Part 6

It was not only that a chignon was constantly hidden or {080}stolen just when it was wanted, stays were mysteriously cut, gloves spoiled, best bonnets crammed up the chimney, and best boots deposited in the bath. These discomforts were unpleasant enough, but the little wretch went far beyond them. He pinched and nipped the poor girls whenever he met them, trod on their toes suddenly, drew away their chairs just as they were about to sit down, and put rhubarb and magnesia into their five o’clock tea. Moreover, he carried all kinds of tales about them to the Baroness, and told falsehood upon falsehood for the mere purpose of getting them into disgrace. Then, when the Baroness inflicted punishment upon them, he would jeer and taunt and tease the poor girls, rendering it doubly disagreeable by his ill-natured and malicious joy. Nothing delighted him so much as to see others suffer, and it seemed as if he lived for nothing else save to procure as much misery as possible for his neighbours.

This state of things gradually drove Dora, Bertha, and Elladine to desperation; and, after many plans and consultations, they determined to seek advice from some of the good spirits of my river. As it happened, however, that, although they are very willing to give good advice and to assist mortals whenever they can, my nymphs and fairies are restrained by etiquette from active interference with the demons in those parts of the river especially appropriated to the latter, the good creatures thought it better to bring the matter before me; and on being consulted by the young ladies, the nymph who saw them upon the subject told them to come again at a certain time, before which she waited upon me, as I have said, with a deputation.

When {081}the case had been fairly represented to me, I saw at once that it was one in which something should be done, and I accordingly promised that if the three young persons would bathe together at a certain spot on the following morning, I would present myself before them and hear their story.

The time came, and I can assure you, Brother Thames, that in order to inspire confidence in the breasts of the maidens, I made my appearance as venerable as I could previous to my appearance before their astonished eyes.

The {082}sweet creatures stood in the water clinging fondly to each other, as they implored my assistance; and whilst I listened to their artless tale of woe, I leaned my head upon my hand, and pondered deeply over the best course to be taken in order to afford them that assistance which I at once determined to render.

I was not long in making up my mind, and in resolving that the demons should not be allowed to have things all their own way. However, as you know very well, the laws of magic must not be broken, and it would never have done for me to have rudely and suddenly exercised my superior power in order to set matters right in the castle of Bandelboots. All I could fairly do was to put mortals in the way of helping themselves, at the same time interfering, if need should arise, with just as much exercise of power as might be necessary. So, having spoken words of comfort to the three girls, I told them to go home and try and bear their misfortunes for three days more, and at the end of that time, if matters were no better, they might again pay me a visit.

There was, as you may suppose, no improvement in their condition during the appointed time. In fact, their supposed brother was, if possible, rather worse than ever. He cut off a great bit of Bertha’s back hair, stole up behind Elladine and boxed her ears violently, and finished up by giving Dora’s pet canary to the cat, which he afterwards hung, as he said, for the murder. It was no matter of surprise to me, then, when the three maidens again presented themselves before me, weeping bitterly over their many misfortunes and sorrows.

I no longer hesitated as to the course which I should pursue, {083}but immediately changed the sisters into three magnificent swans, desiring them to frequent as much as possible the lake on which their father’s castle stood. This course, as you will readily perceive, had a double effect of a most useful character. For one thing, it of course showed the inhabitants of the castle that something was wrong, and aroused both the Baron and Baroness to exertions for the recovery of their lost daughters which would very likely result in their finding out from the powers of magic something, as the lawyers say, “very much to their advantage.” But above and beyond this was the circumstance that, as swans are gifted with the miraculous power of seeing through magical disguises, the young ladies would be perfectly certain to encounter and recognise their real brother in some of his flittings over the lake, and thus would eventually be brought about the consummation so devoutly to be desired.

You may well believe that the disappearance of the three girls plunged the castle into the direst confusion. No one could imagine where they had gone to, and all kinds of surmises were afloat. The Baron smoked twice as many pipes as usual; the Baroness flew into a more violent passion than had been the case for a month before; poor old nurse Grutchen wept bitterly; Martha Scweinvolt seemed to have more vinegar than ever in her countenance; and the false heir ran about teasing and worrying everybody twice as much as usual, and was apparently in the highest possible spirits at the loss of his sisters. Every hole and corner of the castle was searched, the river was dragged, the crier was sent through the straggling hamlets of the neighbourhood, special {084}messengers were despatched in every direction, but it is needless to say that no success attended any of these proceedings.

“We want our rights!” he cried in a loud voice. “What is a Bandelboots to us more than anybody else? We are starving, whilst you and your vile Baroness revel in plenty. Give us our rights--these are the days when the poor are as good as the rich! No more starvation for the poor peasant! Give us our rights!”

And thereupon the whole crew took up the chorus. “Our rights! our rights!--give us our rights!” and made as though they would advance upon the old Baron. The latter quailed not for a moment, but, curling his lips scornfully, thus made reply:--

“Rights? But what are they? Is it your rights to enter a peaceful dwelling and rob its owner? If these are your rights, why are they _yours_ more than the rights of all the rest of the world? What better title have you to your homes than I to mine? And if you may enter and rob my castle, what protection has any one of you for his own cottage, which some one may say it is _his_ right to enter and destroy? Poor churls! ye are deceived, and will but bring ruin upon yourselves. Retire before it is too late, and ye shall yet be pardoned!” Whatever might have been the Baron’s intention in uttering {093}these words, I am sorry to say that they had no conciliatory effect upon those to whom they were addressed. Shouting aloud and brandishing their weapons, they were about to advance upon the venerable nobleman, when, from a side door, some new personages suddenly appeared upon the scene. Pushed along in a chair upon wheels, to which she was securely bound, came the Baroness, in the custody of several peasants, who were under the more immediate guidance and control of Martha Scweinvolt. The latter, with a face beaming with delight, followed triumphantly behind, whilst the false heir, weeping and howling piteously, trotted by the side of the chair, driven forward by the peasants who ushered the Baroness into the room.

The poor Baroness presented a spectacle sad indeed to behold. She was in a towering rage, but at the same time perfectly helpless, and foamed at the mouth with fury as she strove in vain to get loose from the cords with which she was tied.

When these new arrivals had advanced into the room between the Baron and the peasants, there was a momentary pause, during which Martha stepped in front of the chair upon which the poor Baroness was fastened, and, pointing at her with outstretched arm and scornful gesture, addressed the peasants in these words:--

“Here she is, good people; here is the source of all your ills--the cause of all your woes! The poor fool of a Baron would do no harm but for this vile woman. See what a passion she is in now! This is her usual temper; and no wonder she is such a tyrant, and makes her husband the same!”

At {094}this point the Baroness broke in, having previously-vented her rage in sobs and incoherent shrieks. “Let me loose! let me loose!” she cried. “You riff-raff--you vagabonds--you traitors--let me loose directly! This wretched creature has deceived you all; she is a worthless, good-for-nothing hussy. Let me loose, or I vow you shall all be hanged!” And the Baroness shrieked for fury again, her temper being by no means improved by the false heir, who, despite all his fears for himself, seeing her securely tied, could not resist the temptation of giving her a fearful pinch in the fleshy part of the arm, for which a peasant instantly knocked him down.

Before Martha could speak again, the Baron, who was a good old chap in the main, roared out aloud: “By my grandfather’s monument!” cried he (an oath all the more terrible from the edifice in question being well known to be the largest and ugliest of its kind for miles around); “this is past all bearing! Knaves! will ye list to the falsehoods of this base harridan, who has eaten our salt for years, and now wags her evil tongue against a kind, though perhaps somewhat hasty, mistress? Never has the Baroness said a word against one of ye. _My_ faults, whatever they be, are mine own, and for them _I_ will answer. But what has the Baroness done? Who sends ye alms and food when sickness is amongst ye? Who helps your wives and children when trouble is in your homes? Who but the Baroness? And is _this_ your gratitude?”

There was some truth in what the Baron now said, for his wife was by no means unkind to the poor, nor would they have readily turned against her but for the wiles {095}of Martha, assisted by the magical powers of the wehr-wolves. But Martha knew too well to let the Baron continue. She broke in upon his discourse with her shrill, sharp voice: “Hear the good man, my friends; he is right to stand up for his wife, no doubt, but he knows well that he is false to the truth. She is a wretch, a tyrant, a termagant! Yes, Madam the Baroness,” she continued, coming close in front of the chair, and approaching her face much nearer to that of the poor lady than the latter deemed at all pleasant--“yes, your reign is at an end--do you hear, you old fright? Your back hair shall be pulled out; though, as it is nearly all false, it will cause you but little pain. Your nose shall be wrung!--your ears shall be slit!--and you shall serve _me_--do you hear? Oh, _you’re_ a pretty one to box a person’s ears. I’ll pay you out _now_ for _that_, I’ll warrant me!” And as she spoke she lifted up her arm, about to give the Baroness a box on the ears with her full force. But in the very act she paused--stopped--and stood trembling and irresolute, as if suddenly arrested by some superior power.