CHAPTER X.

THE FOREST OF ECKERNFIÖRD.

Bandolo, who knew every foot of the way, avoided the villages and rode towards Eckernfiörd, which, from the landing-place, was double the distance he had mentioned to Ernestine as the space to be travelled. As she was too acute not to perceive this, after they had ridden without speaking for some miles in the dark (for there was no moon, and scarcely a star visible, as the clouds were coming up in heavy masses from the Baltic on their right), she made some inquiries about this fortress, where, as he had said, her father commanded, and how far it might yet be distant.

"It should be just beyond those trees, lady," replied the disguised spy.

"Should," retorted Ernestine in great displeasure; "are you not quite certain that it is?"

"How can one be certain of any thing in so dark a night? But trust in the Lord, lady--trust in the Lord!"

"Herr Doctor, you are very fond of repeating that tiresome phrase; but remember, sir, that at present I trust to _you_, and it seems that you are leading me towards a dense forest.

"Through that forest lies our way, grafine. I did not make the road. If I had, I should perhaps have taken it round by the shore of the haven; but, as it lies through the forest, we must pursue it, or remain where we are."

The narrow horse-path, which hitherto had been bordered only by smooth green meadows, divided by quickset hedges, now became gradually lost in that forest of tall trees which lies between Eckernfiörd and Kiel,* and so dense became the entwined branches and other obstructions incident to a wood growing in a state of nature, that their horses could scarcely move at times, and Bandolo now dispensed with his circular barnacles (a severe impediment to the vision of one who did not require them), and gazed around with all the air of a man who had completely lost himself.

* I know not whether the forest referred to by our cavalier is still extant. It was so in 1702. See "_Travels in the retinue of the English Envoy_, 1702"--printed at the Ship in St. Paul's churchyard, 1707.

"Now, sir," said the impatient Ernestine, "what a scrape you have brought me into! Separated from my sister, who cannot have come this way, else we should have found her in this labyrinth; and separated also from my dear father, who may die before I reach Fredricksort, and while we are fruitlessly wandering in this provoking wood; besides, there may be wild animals or robbers in it, and you are, of course, without arms."

"Heaven forbid, lady, I should ever trust to other weapons than those of the spirit. _Maldicion--Maldicion de Dios!_" he growled between his teeth; "if once I have her safe in the cottage of old Dame Krümpel, I will make her pay dearly for all the trouble her pride has cost me, and for having my face scratched in this rascally thicket."

"What did you say, Herr Doctor?"

"Only a prayer, that we may not meet with any robbers or wild animals, as you said--ha--ha!"

"Or broken soldiers."

"Or with Bandolo," he added.

"Count Tilly's spy?" said Ernestine; "'tis rumoured that he knows every foot of ground in Denmark, so I wish that we could meet with him; though he is a guilty wretch of whom even the Merodeurs speak with contempt and horror."

Bandolo uttered a low, ferocious laugh. Ruffian as he was, and callous to every sentiment of humanity, her words stung him to the soul; for there was something inexpressibly cutting in this hearty and undisguised contempt, as expressed by a beautiful woman. He writhed under it, and a savage glow of mingled triumph and revenge spread through his breast, as he exultingly contemplated the terror, the catastrophe, and the downfall that were awaiting her. His eagerness sharpened his faculties.

"I see a light--a spark--to our left. This way, lady," said he, seizing the bridle of her horse, and conducting her down a narrow track, where the pine trunks grew so close that there was scarcely room for steed and rider to pass between them; but in a few minutes they reached a small and rudely built cottage, which stood by the margin of a little tarn. It was the place where Bernhard was to rejoin Bandolo, and pay over the price of poor Gabrielle.

The bravo alighted from his saddle, and, fastening the bridles of both horses to the branch of a tree, threw open the cottage door, and led in Ernestine.

An oil lamp shed a faint light on the interior of this poor habitation, the furniture of which consisted of a table and couple of stools, of such rough construction that the bark yet adhered to the wood. Here and there a naked spar of the rough wooden roof came out of the obscurity in which dust, cobwebs, and darkness involved it; the floor was of hard-beaten clay. The cottage consisted of what we Scots call a but and a ben, or two apartments. One end of the outer was spanned by the rude lintel of a wide chimney, within which, and close to a few smouldering embers, an old hag, with hands like a kite's claws, sat on a block of wood, skinning squirrels and chattering over her work. She looked up, and Bandolo, as he expected, recognised Dame Krümpel, who, after her expulsion from Glückstadt by order of the puissant burgomaster, Herr Dubbelsteirn, had found her way to the eastern coast of the peninsula.

They greeted each other in a dialect of the German so guttural that Ernestine did not understand it. Then the old woman snatched up her lamp, and, holding it aloft, surveyed with her fierce eyes--which were keen and deep as two gimlet holes--the tall figure of Ernestine, who, on seeing this repulsive old woman approach with her shrivelled hands dyed in blood, shrunk back, and drew herself up to her full height, while a disdainful expression stole over her beautiful face, on which her broad Spanish hat and long black feather cast an impressive shadow.

Old Krümpel croaked and grinned as she set down her iron lamp, and quietly resumed her occupation.

Bandolo now brought in his heavy portmanteau, which he carefully deposited on the table; he then placed beside it two leathern bottles, which he took from his pockets, after securing the cottage-door.

"Be seated, madame--and here Krümpel, old hag! get us glasses, cups, or whatever you have; I long for a taste of schnaps, as doubtless the lady does for a drop of kirschwasser--for I have both."

"I beseech you, sir, to lose no time in procuring a guide," said Ernestine, whose heart was bursting with impatience, grief, and alarm.

"A guide--for where?"

"Fredricksort."

"Content yourself, my pretty one; what the devil would you do at Fredricksort?" he asked, abandoning all his assumed manner. "Surely one of you is quite enough among the rough Merodeurs."

Ernestine was petrified by this speech, and still more when the pretended clergyman threw aside his wig, revealing his coal black hair, and that long and peculiar lock by which he was generally known; and, opening his ample doublet, displayed below, his cases of poniards and pistols.

"Maldicion de Dios! ha, ha! what use is there in masquerading any longer? I am Bandolo, Madame Ernestine, and we may as well be friends at once; so give me a kiss to begin with, though I am one upon whom even the wild Merodeurs look _with contempt and horror_!"

He bluntly approached her, but paused; for the expression of her eyes arrested him, and he quailed before it--he, Bandolo!

Never did terror, anger, and aversion lend a brighter flash to more beautiful eyes than those of Ernestine; and their lofty gaze arrested the insolence of Bandolo, charming the steps of one whom the laws of neither God nor man could bind. He growled an oath and a laugh together; sat down and took a mouthful of schnaps. Ernestine turned anxiously towards the old woman; but that worthy appeared to have neither ears nor eyes for what was passing, and was tearing the skin from the body of a squirrel with the utmost unconcern.

Disdaining to say a word, Ernestine grasped her riding-rod, gave another fiery glance at Bandolo with her tearless eyes, and boldly prepared to retire. Seizing her arm, he forced her into a seat, and, placing his back against the door, burst into a shout of derisive laughter, which made her blood curdle.

The thought of Gabrielle, away, she knew not where, with this man's companion, filled her whole soul with alarm; and in that thought all sense of her own danger was swept away. Terror almost paralysed her, and she burst into tears.

Bandolo eyed her with a strange glance of mingled ferocity, perplexity, and admiration; for in every impulse--his anger, his avarice, and all his passions--this man was a mere animal. He took another draught of the strong schnaps, and warned her to take care what she was about, and what she did and said now; for she was alone with one who would not stand trifling--alone in the heart of a forest where no living thing could hear her outcries but the birds in their nests, or the foxes in their holes--that she was perfectly helpless, and beyond all rescue.

Alone--and with him! ........