Part 20

While he was thus suffering and struggling within himself--now whimpering, and now gnawing his coverlet--all at once, he thought he felt the pillow begin to move under his head, while certain mysterious whisperings met his ear; at last, something laid hold of his head.

"What is that!"

"Ja--ha--hai! it is me, master," said a voice, accompanied by a chattering of teeth.

Vendel looked round. Hanzli stood before him, his face of a livid green, his knees knocking together, and his hair standing on end.

Vendel thought he beheld a spectre. He tried to cry out, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he could not articulate a syllable.

"Master!" exclaimed the youth with upturned eyes; and, trembling violently, he fell upon both knees, and seized the collar of Vendel's night-dress so tightly, that the latter thought he was going to choke him, but he did not--no, he did not; on the contrary, Hanzli began to weep bitterly, and to kiss his master's huge hand, while he could only exclaim in a voice choked with sobs, "Master, master!"

"I hear, my lad; but what is the matter with you?"

"Oh, nothing the matter with me; but my master is ruined for ever; they are going to seize him and carry him off, and make a terrible job of him!"

"What are you talking of, Hanzli, my lad?" exclaimed the amazed brewer; "what do you mean?"

"Well, do you know, master, what the enemy, this terrible, vitriol-drinking enemy, has come for?"

"Not I."

"Nor did I know it before, but now I know it all. Oh! to think that it was for _that_ they have come across kingdoms and worlds with fire and sword! to think that they have been searching governments and realms for _that_!"

"For what?"

"Why, did I not say it?"

"For my wife, perhaps?" cried the ex-patient, starting up, hunger and thirst alike forgotten.

"That would have been a good idea!" thought Hanzli; "they might have done that, but they did not. It is for you yourself, my beloved master--for you alone that all this war is waging," he whispered, with upraised eyes, pointing with his long ape-like arms to his master, who had fallen on his back; for though he did not understand the circumstances of the affair, he was very much alarmed for all that.

He stared at Hanzli, and Hanzli stared at him; both seemed afraid of renewing the conversation.

"But why--what does the French Emperor want with me?" asked Vendel at last, in a voice faint with suspense and terror.

"Ay," replied Hanzli, "that is the thing! They have a great project about you, master. I saw the green csako hussars whispering together, and shaking their heads. 'That is the man,' I heard them say, 'and no other;' and I came as near as possible to listen who or what it could be, and what should I hear"--

"Well, and what did you hear?"

"They said--whispering as low as possible, that nobody might hear them--that the French Emperor would not cease devastating the land with fire and sword, until they delivered him up as a ransom"--

"Well?"

"Until they gave him, as a ransom, a man weighing five hundredweight"--

"And what do they want with him?" gasped Vendel.

"And therefore they are determined to weigh you to-morrow; and if you strike the weight, they will immediately hand you over to the Emperor of the French! All this they whispered very low; but I heard them, master, for all that."

"But what does he want with me, Hanzli? do you not know what he wants?"

"Oh, it will kill you, master, to hear it! Nothing more nor less than"--

"Than what?"

"Than to preserve you in spirits for his museum!"

"All ye saints!" roared Vendel, leaping up on his bed; "preserve me in spirits of wine like the four-legged hen, or the double-tailed lizard!"

"Just so, master, and alive too!"

"But it shall not be!" roared Vendel. "They shall not preserve me in spirits; I have no desire for such an honour--none at all! Come, help me up. Where are my slippers? Holy prophet Jonas! no wish for it whatever! Reach me my jacket and my cap. St. Florian and Habakkuk! help me to dress. My cloak, my cloak, Hanzli--St. Cecilia! my cloak! Let us run, my lad, run"--

"But whither?"

This was the question.

"Where? out of the window, of course. Take the hatchet and knock out the cross beams--that's it! never mind breaking the glass! Now, raise me up, Hanzli; let us run!"

And the next moment there was a terrible crash outside the window, occasioned by the descent of Vendel, which luckily the noise of the revellers within prevented them from hearing.

"But where shall we go now?"

This was the next question, for Vendel-gazda's legs were not exactly fashioned to run away with him. What was to be done?

At last Hanzli bethought him of a large wheel-barrow, which lay under a shed close by; and bringing it out, he placed his master in it, and wheeled him down a by-road which led behind the village; while the gigantic effort of this superhuman undertaking bent his back into a C, and caused his eyes to start almost out of their sockets.

His master tried to encourage him as well as he could: "Push on, my brave boy! I will serve you another time--only push on!"

At last they reached the end of the village. Poor Hanzli still continued pushing his immense burden before him, panting and snorting, while his back seemed ready to break at every step, and Vendel still continued his words of encouragement. "That's right I push on, my boy!--we will rest anon."

They reached the maize-ground.

Hanzli was nearly exhausted; and just as he was exerting his last strength to roll the sisyphian burden over a little mound--while Vendel urged him forward as usual, crying, "Push on, my lad, push out just a little more!"--plump! the barrow turned to one side, and the whole contents were precipitated into a muddy ditch.

"Oh! alas! I am lost! Mercy, Hanzli; save me!" cried the prostrate Blasius.

Hanzli did his best; and after much labour, succeeded in dragging his master out of the mud.

"But now you must get on, master, as you best can, on your own two legs; for if you expect me to push the barrow any more, I must just leave you here--my spine is split already; I shall never be fit for anything."

"Don't be foolish, my lad; you surely don't mean to forsake me! Help me at least to hide somewhere. You know very well how I always loved you--like my own son, Hanzlikam!"

"Well then, don't be talking about it; but just get up and give me your arm. Iai! if you are going to lean on me in that manner, master, I won't go a step farther. Just try to move your own legs--so, so."

And by dint of threats and encouragement, Hanzli succeeded in dragging his unhappy master through the maize till they reached a small shed, the sides and roof of which were somewhat dilapidated by wind and rain. Bundles of reeds, plaited together with maize stems, formed the shed-walls, through which the flowers of the sweet hazel-nut grew up luxuriantly; within, there was nothing but a legion of gnats.

"Am I to remain here?" asked Vendel in a voice of despair, surveying the shed, which was almost filled when he was inside.

"Don't be afraid, master! nobody will think of looking for you here."

"But where am I to sit down?"

"Why, on the ground, master."

"St. Jeremias! that is a hard seat."

"Never mind, master; it is better than being preserved in spirits of wine."

"But it is very cold; and then I am very hungry, too."

"Well, we can help that, master. I will go home and bring you a whole loaf, and some bacon."

"Nothing else? You surely do not wish me to starve, Hanzli?"

"I do not wish that, master; but indeed you must try and get down a little, at least half a hundredweight, unless you intend to spend your life here in eternal concealment."

Vendel looked round in dismay. "Very well, my son, very well--that is, I mean, very bad, very bad; but it can't be helped. Bring my dog, Hanzli, that I may have something to speak to at least when I am alone, and to take care of me."

"Well, Heaven bless you, master, till I come back again! and don't be afraid."

"Hanzli, don't speak of me to _anybody_,--you know who _that_ is, Hanzli--not a syllable!"

"No, no; no, no!"

And Vendel was left alone to his own reflections, which were anything but agreeable. Cold and hungry, turned out of his comfortable home and warm bed, to pass the night in a damp maize-shed--and all for the caprice of a sovereign who wished to preserve him in spirits!

In about an hour's time, every moment of which seemed an eternity to our poor fugitive, Hanzli returned laden with various articles. Vendel descried him at some distance, and rejoiced in seeing him thus bent beneath his burden, believing he had brought the whole contents of the larder on his back.

"What is that on your back, Hanzli?" he called to him as he approached.

"A sheaf of straw, and a cloak."

"Iai! nothing to eat? And what is that in your arms?"

"That is the poodle, which I was obliged to carry, for he would not come with me."

"And the bread, and the other things?" asked Vendel anxiously.

"Here it is, in the bag."

Alas! this bag was a very small concern.

"And have you brought nothing to drink, Hanzli?"

"Yes, master, in this bottle."

"That's right! Reach it here; let me draw the cork. Oh! are you a heathen, Hanzli?--there is nothing here but water!"

"But it is quite fresh."

"Do you wish to kill me, Hanzli?" Large tears stood in poor Vendel's eyes.

"Come now, master, don't be grumbling; there is enough to eat and drink. We will hang up the bag on these cross beams, and I will make your bed. See now, you may sleep soundly there, and I will come back again to-morrow. Good night, master; shut the door after me."

And Vendel was again alone. Ay, such is human life! Man can be secure of nothing in this world; even when he lies down in a comfortable bed, there is no saying where he may awake in the morning!

Thus philosophized poor Vendel as he lay on his back on the hard earth. It was now quite dark; one or two inquisitive stars peeped through the cracks of the shed, but all was silent as death.

Vendel was just beginning to feel drowsy, when all at once he heard something or somebody speaking close to him in the German accent--indeed the sounds were quite distinct.

"Quak, quak, frakk!"

"Who the tartar can that be?"

"Quak, quak, frakk!"

"Perhaps it is Sclavonian they are talking," thought Vendel: "Jako sza volas, moje dusa?"[73]

[Footnote 73: "What is your name, my dear?"]

"Quak, quak, frakk!" The voice came always nearer; until at last Vendel summoned resolution to stretch out his hand in the direction of the sound to feel for its cause.

Something cold moved under his fingers--as cold as a frog. What the tartar could it be? as cold as a frog, speaks German, and moves! Vendel could not guess; but he once more addressed the mysterious creature, and then, seizing his cap from off his head, he laid it over it, that he might not find it staring in his face next morning; after which, he took the loaf out of the bag, and breaking off the crust, placed it under his head as a pillow, and slept soundly till daybreak;--for though he was once or twice disturbed by something pulling his hair or scratching his head, he was too much fatigued to take much notice of it, and only shook his head and fell asleep again. Towards morning, however, he began to be troubled by fearful dreams. A vast museum rose before him, in which were divers stuffed pelicans, ostriches, storks, crocodiles, sea-horses, peacocks, long-tailed monkeys, and dog-faced Tartars, embalmed speckled devils, petrified angels, and suchlike _naturæ curiosa_, all standing in long rows, among which were one or two critics, hung by the legs.

But what most attracted his attention, were two gigantic glasses placed in the middle of the room, both filled with spirits, and bound round the top with oilskin, in one of which stood a meagre elephant, swinging his long trunk before him, with frizzed hair, glazed boots, a wide frock coat, and high collar, from each side of which protruded his long tusks.

But now for the other glass! There floated Master Vendel himself, swelled to twice his original size, in his yellow flannel coat and coloured slippers, and stamping with all his force to break out of his prison. He tried to cry out, too; but when he opened his mouth, the spirits went down his throat. At last he made a desperate leap to get his head through the oilskin, and kicked out--the side of the reed shed.

"Ahhaouhh!" he cried with a loud yawn, infinitely relieved at finding himself there, instead of in the French Emperor's museum. "It was a good thing I did not submit to _that_; a terrible job they would have made of me, no doubt!"

Vendel then sat up, and began to think of breakfasting. He looked about for the loaf; but no loaf was to be seen--only a few scattered crumbs marked the place it had once occupied as a pillow.

"Well!" sighed Vendel, summoning all his philosophy; "I must eat the bacon alone, though I shall probably be ill after it."

But Providence had taken care that Vendel should not be ill through this means: the ham was nowhere to be found--only the empty bag lay on the ground.

Fearful spectres floated across the waste of Vendel's brain. "Filax!" he cried, but the poodle did not answer: there was a mine scratched out under the reeds, by which he had probably made his escape.

Vendel burst open the door, and the first thing which met his eye was his faithful dog quietly gnawing the bones of the bacon.

"Alas, alas! I am lost!" cried Vendel, falling on his back in utter despair.

Fortunately, some secret misgiving induced the faithful Hanzli to return about noon with a fresh transport of provisions, otherwise the poor brewer, like King Eu---- (the tartar knows what comes next!), might have been tempted to eat himself up.

"Hanzli, my son! take away the dog, and bring a cat instead; the mice have eaten all my bread, and the dog has carried off the bacon. But what of the hussars, Hanzli?"

"Oh! they are already beyond the frontiers; they made a great noise till early in the morning, when they mounted their horses and galloped off. Since then, they have probably been in battle."

"And Mistress Vicza?"

"They have not carried her off," replied Hanzli with a bitter sigh. "She is going on in a terrible way, looking for you everywhere. She thinks you are after no good, and promises that you shall smart for it when you return."

"Utcza! I am between two fires!" thought poor Vendel. "On one side the French Emperor, on the other my wife: one wants to have me under a glass, the other under her thumb!"

"But keep yourself well hid, for the enemy is approaching," continued Hanzli. "All the gentlemen of the town are hiding their effects under the beams and in the cellars, and their wives are cooking and baking all sorts of cakes; the very roads are covered with pastry. They say the enemy fires with red powder, and there is a strong smell of pepper all about. Heaven preserve us when they come! for they are a terrible merciless set, it is said, and spare neither man nor child; and they have such a love for torture, that they will bend two trees together for their diversion, and tie a man's legs to them, then suddenly let them go, and whip! he is split in two!"

"Ale! iui!"

"Then they tie the women together by the hair, and drive them off to the markets in Africa."

"I say, Hanzli, how far is it to Africa?"

"I have not heard that yet, master; but I daresay as far as Szerdahely."[74]

[Footnote 74: A little town about twenty miles north of Raab.]

"I should like to know, in order that, if they carry off Vicza, I could reckon in how many days she might return."

"But what if they carry me off? and then some dog-faced young lady in Africa may fall in love with me! sure enough, and then eat me! They say they fatten a man up with currants and other fruits, and then eat him!"

"Alas! my son, Hanzli! if they carry you off and eat you, there will be nobody to bring me anything to eat! For Heaven's sake, Hanzli, take care of thyself!" And the good man seized Hanzli, and kissed and embraced him till the lad thought a bear had got him in its clutches, and was so blinded in consequence of the squeezing, that he stumbled about afterwards like a shell-fish on shore.

Days passed on. Hanzli continued to bring food to his master morning and evening, and to enliven his solitude with the numerous reports he had heard in the village, and which were not unfrequently the cause of sleepless nights to poor Vendel.

Meanwhile, the maize was growing tall and yellow; the pumpkins were ripening beneath their great shady leaves, and the starlings visited the happy fields. Early in the mornings Vendel went up a neighbouring hillock, from whence he could see the village, and watch the smoke of the chimneys, and hear the dogs barking from a distance, and the bells ringing; then, when the sun rose, he would sigh deeply and go back to his hut, where he lay down till Hanzli returned with food; nor would he venture out again till the sun sank below the horizon, when he would creep forth once more, and watch the shepherds' fires on the meadows, and listen to the herd-bells returning to the village, or the merry creaking of waggon-wheels over the plains; and then the moon rose, like a bright silver twentypence--so rare an appearance in those days (not the moon, but the twentypence), and poor Hornyicsek gazed at St. David and his harp in the bright planet, and bethought him of the happy times when he used to watch it from his marble bench, with his head in a state of brilliant clairvoyance, illuminated by beer. The mild evening breeze sighed softly through the leaves of the maize, and the crickets chirped around him. If Vendel had been a poet, he could not have desired more; but unfortunately, as it was, all this was lost to him, and he would readily have been excused the enjoyment of such romantic scenes.

The good man now discovered that his clothes were growing wider every day, and that he mounted the hillock with much less difficulty than formerly. He began to think that he might now with safety return to the village; but Hanzli dissuaded him, declaring that he was still much too fat, though he put him on stricter diet every day.

Thus several weeks passed by, which were unmarked by any incident of great importance in regard to Vendel. True, the ants sometimes took his residence by storm, causing him considerable inconvenience by day and night; once a fearful hurricane nearly terrified him to death; and a mad buffalo kept beating about the maize-ground one afternoon, bellowing fearfully round the shed, while Vendel did not dare to breathe or stir. But there was one adventure which very much disturbed the good man's equanimity; and as it had, besides, some influence on his future proceedings, we shall relate it more in detail.

We have already mentioned that Vendel was haunted by some _uncanny_ spirit, which seemed to converse in German, was cold to the touch, and moved. This visit had been frequently repeated, and Vendel had as often covered the intruder with his cap; but next morning, when he raised it carefully, there was nothing to be seen but a hole in the ground, which was quite dark, and seemed to descend into the depths of the earth.

One evening, as he was musing over the mysteries of this secret passage, he thought he heard steps outside the shed, accompanied by low whisperings. Shortly after, a strange phenomenon took place at the mysterious hole; it seemed as if trying to speak--gurgling, hickupping, and sobbing, exactly like a human throat; he thought he heard it sigh, too. By degrees it grew louder and louder; a gulping sound followed, then a terrible scratching was heard, nearer and nearer, and louder! Vendel trembled like an aspen leaf. At last--hah!--at last, a fearful head appeared,--two eyes, two ears, sharp teeth, a red tongue! higher and higher it came, struggling out of the hole. One struggle more, and a terrible, wild-looking, dirty creature, with sharp nails and shining eyes, rushed forth!

It was a water-rat!

"Saint Bartholomew, help!" cried the brewer; "it will eat me!"

And as the creature issued from the hole, a deluge rose after it, squirting and bubbling; and in an instant the rat, Vendel, and his residence were completely inundated.

The mystery may be thus explained. Some mischievous shepherd boys had come to fill up the hole with water, and having found the entrance on that side of the mound on which the forsaken shed stood, they had brought water from a neighbouring pond in buckets, which they poured down the hole; and, ignorant of its telegraphic theory, they cursed the frogs for drinking all their water, while Vendel's residence was undergoing an inundation at the other outlet of the rat's hole.

Meanwhile, the persecuted monster ran round the small shed, and not finding any mode of exit, climbed up the reeds on all-fours, and had just reached a hole which the wind had broken in the roof, when by some unlucky chance it slipped back and fell--right on Vendel's nose!

Our readers may imagine the cry which burst from the lips of the terrified man at this catastrophe: he kicked open the door with hands and feet, and rolled out, making as great a tumult as if three regiments of Turks had been behind him.

But the shepherd boys by no means took the matter in jest. Every one for himself, they scampered off with terror-stricken countenances, leaving buckets, tubs, and water-rat, and never paused till they reached the village, where they immediately alarmed the inhabitants.

When Vendel had recovered from his panic, he began to reflect on the probable consequences of this imprudent sally: he should now be discovered, betrayed, and put in spirits. And this was the fate that awaited him!

The unfortunate man crept up his hill of observation, and strained his eyes towards the village. In a very short time his worst fears began to be realized: a party of men, armed with pitchforks and scythes, were evidently making for his place of concealment. To have remained there longer would have been tempting Providence; and so the poor man took up his mantle with great resignation, and sighing deeply, wandered out into the fields of buck-wheat, where he lay down and listened anxiously to the distant uproar with which the excited villagers hunted the fearful spectre; and to this day the true legend of the "earth-man" is told in the district.

When all was quiet, Vendel rose and withdrew farther from the dangerous vicinity of his hut. For three whole days he wandered through thorns and bushes, sleeping in the open air, and supporting life with earth-nuts and maize. Three miserable fast days they were, which deprived him of at least twenty pounds of bodily weight, but certainly prolonged his life by three years! On the fourth day he heard a great deal of firing at about a mile's distance, and at intervals the sound of great guns. He even saw some of the balls lazily rebounding from the ground at the end of their flight, and, picking up one, he put it into his pocket in testimony of the battle he had seen, and of all he had gone through during the war.