Part 1

The Gnomes of the Saline Mountains

A FANTASTIC NARRATIVE

By

ANNA GOLDMARK GROSS

Author of "The Whim of Fate," and numerous short stories and plays.

THE SHAKESPEARE PRESS, 114-116 East 28th Street, New York. 1912.

Copyright, 1912, by ANNA G. GROSS.

I dedicate this book to the blessed memory of my father. [Illustration]

ILLUSTRATIONS

by

I. T. BALLIN.

Whispered malicious tales in his ears Frontispiece

He gazed at the fair form in bridal attire lying upon the floor 104

Here, Miss, I ain't got no money but I'd like to give you them shoes 117

Confessing all to the wonder-working Saint 167

Near Dresden lies a garden, Therein a cherry tree, Beneath whose fragrant shadow, Came happy dreams to me.

On its bark my love for her, In ardent words I traced; In rapture, then in sorrow, Trembling with nervous haste.

The moon so bright had risen, Those words glared forth at night. I glanced at them all frightened, Then screened them from my sight.

* * * * * * * *

On zephyr's wave a whisper came, From wicked gnomes to me addressed: "Come here, come here, thou human toy, And find with us thy final rest."

The Gnomes of the Saline Mountains

A FANTASTIC NARRATIVE

I.

Though rather early in the morning, the well-known esplanade along the beautiful Traunsee at Gmunden, surrounded by green-decked Saline Mountains, was already thronged to overflowing with eager-looking sightseers, watching excitedly the completion of the grandstands which were now being erected for the great event of the day.

Special trains arrived hourly from Ischel, Aussee, Hallstadt, and other mountain resorts of prominence, and the excitement seemed to increase each moment more and more.

Humdrum life was thrown aside by young and old; everyone looked on expectantly, reviewing the grandstands, the tourists, and everything new around them.

Fair-browed girls robed in spotless white muslin, garlanded with flowers and bright with rosy badges in honor of the occasion, were seen here and there, while their eyes sparkled and their lips drank from the cup of happiness, enjoying life and the blessing of being young.

The constantly increasing throng of summer visitors and tourists from all parts of the globe, speaking different languages and wearing outlandish clothes, made up a bewildering picture, while the July sun beamed down upon them, and over lake and green-decked mountain-tops.

The much talked of floral regatta of 1910 was not to take place until five, but by one o'clock the grandstands near the water, hardly completed, began to fill rapidly with the elite of Viennese society. These floral festivals, which had been so popular in previous years, were to be surpassed in artistic splendor and brilliant originality by today's display of picturesque effects, and symbolism of national life.

Members of the highest nobility had consented to take leading parts in the regatta, which was under the protectorate of the Archduke Victor. Many celebrities of the musical world, living there in their beautiful cottages, were seen quietly taking their seats. The great bare mountain "Traunstein" seemed to smile down on them from his aerial height in friendly approval; they were no strangers to him, these music giants, but rather belonged to his enthusiastic admirers.

Every spring they came to him, seeking relaxation for their over-strained nerves, and every fall, when his bald head began to be covered with a cap of snow, they went home full of elasticity and creative power, often bringing along conceptions of masterpieces which were later to fill the entire musical world with admiration. No wonder then, that the bald-headed old fellow up there so high above his neighbors looked down so proudly upon them.

Loud blasts of trumpets in the distance announced to the patiently awaiting throng the approach of a long line of richly decorated boats. Archduke Victor, leading the procession, sat in the stern of his boat, which was gorgeously arrayed to represent a bower of field roses. He opened the festival by throwing red carnations into the water as far as his hand could reach. Next came the customary exchange of greetings among the Austrian nobility, whose elaborately decorated boats were stationed on both sides of the lake. At their approach, the orchestra on the esplanade burst forth with the National anthem of Austria, and the spectators applauded frantically.

Right and left, as far as the eye could see, the shimmering surface of the lake, with its little, gently splashing wavelets, was covered with brightly colored crafts, every one an unique marvel of its kind.

There came splashing along a huge Easter egg, made up of lilies of the valley; here a pagoda of large sunflowers called forth the admiration of the delighted sightseers.

From the opposite shore there came floating a half opened Nautilus, out of which a green-clad naiad cast coquettishly her golden net, trying to catch some inexperienced young fish in her golden meshes. Nearby sailed a sleeping beauty (though rather wide awake) embowered enchantingly in clusters of American Beauties, looking in all directions for her enchanted Prince to appear and make ardent love to her.

Suddenly there came, as if by magic, a gondola from the other side of the lake; it was gorgeously decorated, shining brightly in the brilliant afternoon sun. This floating work of art was made of lotus flowers, over which a canopy of glittering, diaphanous material was hanging, presumably as a suitable background for a lady now the cynosure of all eyes. She was of such entrancing beauty that all who beheld her sat spellbound and actually forgot to applaud, according to the customary greeting to newcomers, scarcely knowing which to admire first; the magnificent craft, so artistically constructed, or the dazzling apparition within.

Amazed and speechless, the distinguished gathering gazed at her. "Who is she?" they whispered to each other. Her name was not on the list of nobilities. Nobody knew anything about her, but she was gorgeously dressed, her costume representing that of Cleopatra, made up of pale green crepe de chine, covered with little amorettes of silver pearls, which hung loosely in artistic folds about the luxurious outlines of her bewitching form. Long flaxen hair, artistically arranged, set off with diamond sparks, fell about her, and shone like molten gold in the setting sun. It was supposed to be a real reproduction, according to ancient pictures, of the flirtatious Queen of Egypt, seen in the art galleries of Florence, Genoa and Rome. Her large black eyes held a singular fascination in their sparkling depths, which if once looked into, fastened themselves upon the imagination of man to be forgotten no more.

At the sight of all these splendors amid such exclusive surroundings, she looked with a frightened stare into space, as if she were a newcomer, a stranger in this atmosphere of wealth and distinction. Her features were rigid and white, and she seemed fascinated, dumb with admiration at the sight of the splendid surroundings. For this reason, she had failed to notice the sensation her beauty had aroused among the masculine sightseers.

A slender man, with deep set eyes, and thin and bloodless lips tightly pressed together, sat in an unpretentious little boat a short distance away, murmuring grimly unintelligible words to himself. She caught sight of him and sent him a friendly glance and a smile similar to the greeting of well-known friends. He did not lose sight of her for a moment, but almost devoured her with his eyes.

With feverish eagerness he followed her every movement, knitting his brows threateningly when any boat of the Viennese "Jeunesse doree" came with admiring curiosity too near to her's. In his jealous rage he felt like driving all of them from the spot.

He began to reproach himself for having yielded to her cajoling entreaty to be allowed to take part in the festivity.

"Miserable fops," he murmured contemptuously, as he contemplated the admiring men with a scornful sneer. "I loathe the sight of all these nobodies," he grumblingly soliloquized.

Many of them, in fact, had nothing to boast about. Many of these so-called nobles in addition to a noble name, combined magnificent poverty and an abhorrence for honest work; they acquired a heap of debts and their inherited estates were often in the hands of unscrupulous usurers, or mortgaged to the last cent, while the sneering one had money in such abundance that he could have purchased patents of nobility for an entire regiment, and still have a reserve revenue from his unfathomable gold mine in South Africa. His finances would have allowed him the luxury of such a woman--although it must be whispered he had a wife in England, divorced some people asserted.

II.

It was seven o'clock; the great animated festival drew near its end. At a given signal from the master of ceremonies, the music on the esplanade stopped; a hush fell on the distinguished gathering.

Archduke Victor, in his own exalted person, was to award the stipulated prizes to the boats of most artistic and original designs.

The fanfares sounded gayly over land and sea, and all the boats small and large ranged themselves in a semi-circle about the illustrious judge. The first prize, a silver statuette of the Goddess Hebe, was awarded to the fascinating princess of Egypt.

With a flourish of trumpets, and amid shouts of applause from the enthusiastic throng, all looked around for the boat of the prize winner. But there was no sign of it anywhere, nor was the single boat of the slender Englishman to be seen any more.

At a given signal from Mr. Ogden, the artistically constructed little boat had quietly turned about, and the two, availing themselves of the general excitement over the awarding of prizes, had quietly slipped away behind the neighboring piers, where the palatial home of the unfortunate Archduke Johann Salvatore is to be seen. He is better known to the outer world under the pseudonym "Johann Orth."

His sorrowing mother is still seen by passers-by sitting near the window with expectant eyes waiting for the lost son to return.

The brilliant floral festival enacted on the lake was at an end. On the esplanade were still seen groups of excited spectators discussing with great animation once more, the singular disappearance of the wonderful little boat that was fortunate enough to win the first prize and whose occupants disappeared without claiming that distinction. Others lost no time in entering the brightly illuminated cafes in the vicinity of the esplanade to refresh themselves after the excitement of the grand event.

On the eastern horizon a thin, fleecy scarf of clouds was visible and the silvery moon with all her sparkling companions had just come out to beam upon the scene. The West was a single shrine of beryl, whereon ruby flakes of vapor seemed to float through the universe.

Meanwhile the much-admired boat was silently gliding over the surface of the gently splashing waves. The half reclining form of the fascinating woman seemed in the amber moonlight to resemble that of Aphrodite, as if risen from the waves and in a wanton mood, anxious to make a trial performance all by herself of her incontestable power over the other sex.

"Am I really so fascinating? Did those admiring glances tell the tale of my triumph?" she murmured with a happy smile to herself, looking askance at the boat alongside her's, where her jealous admirer sat with gloomy eyes, consumed by jealousy.

Mr. Ogden, to whom she owed all this splendor, regarded with unconcealed displeasure the day's proceedings. He reproached himself for having yielded to her entreaty. She had begged and coaxed him so much, until he gave his consent, then he ordered the decoration of the boat. Her costume was especially ordered from the most expensive tailor according to ancient pictures of the Egyptian Queen. Ogden undoubtedly wanted her to be the most striking figure on the lake.

And now! Was he really jealous because she was the most admired, the most beautiful? "Jealous? Ho! ho!"

She shrugged her white shoulders with a contemptuous smile.

Did he really think that she loved him? "Phew!"

She had only accepted his ardent devotion to learn what riches and luxury really meant, for which she had an uncontrollable longing, a longing that almost devoured her! Night and day she thought of it, how to get rich.

The aggressive poverty in which she had passed her earlier days, was too hideous to dwell upon; she could not think of it without a shudder. The idea of being poor again took her breath away. How could she ever have consented to become the wife of a man who was poor? "Handsome but poor! What an anomaly!" she said in an undertone, smiling sarcastically.

With bitter envy and scorn in her painfully contracted heart, she saw the rich but most ugly looking women rolling by in their elegant automobiles disdainfully glancing at her and her poor outfit. Often enough when she was working,--engaged in the performance of her household duties in the two small dark rooms of a tenement house, without pure air, without light to brighten her beautiful face, she cursed everything. This hovel her home! And she had the priceless gift of beauty! She made up her mind not to stand it any longer.

The day came when she was seized by such a consuming desire to go in pursuit of pleasure, to wear elegant, stylish clothes and feel the admiring glances of the other sex resting upon her, that meeting Mr. Ogden by accident and dazzled by his wealth, captivated by his costly presents, she accepted his proposal to go with him forgetting everything, even the sacred duty of a mother.

III.

The much-admired little boat was now approaching the narrow bay which is only two minutes distance from Gmunden. There stood the spick and span victoria of Mr. Ogden; the two black horses attached to it struck out sparks of fire with their impatient hoofs. The tall Englishman who had distanced her, stood there waiting. The moment he caught sight of her bewitching face, his eyes sparkled and smiling sweetly at her, helped her tenderly out of the boat.

The sun had just gone down behind a fleecy cloud and kindled a volcano, from whose silver-rimmed crater fiery rays of scarlet shot up almost to the clear zenith. She looked fatigued and closed her eyes for a moment. Now she caught sight of him and smiled, allowing him to take her away--

Tenderly kissing her hand, he led her to the carriage, lifted her carefully in and wrapped a costly cloak, which was laying there, around the enchanting form he so adored.

She did not speak, but sat by his side in silence. He gazed at her several times and then gave the order to start. The carriage set off at a rapid gait.

The light of day was rapidly failing. Day and night seemed to join hands in a twilight mystery; black clouds were now piling up threateningly on the western horizon. A heavy gust scattered the thick aggressive atmosphere. Flying leaves were lifted up in the air as if by magic, and went through the wildest dances to the piping and howling of the storm, which now commenced to rage in all its fury, while voices of sinister shadows in the air, seemed to hold intercourse with others in the distance.

In these high mountainous regions a few moments suffice to turn a smiling landscape into a cheerless dripping desert. Claps of thunder and flashes of lightning followed each other at brief intervals. The rain now fell in torrents and the howling storm whipped the green lake whose wavelets had been so gently splashing half an hour ago.

IV.

During the events described in the preceding chapter, a man still in the glow of youth was walking through the valley surrounded by lofty saline cliffs, in this howling storm, while clouds of shrivelled leaves danced above his head. He did not mind the dreary desolation around him.

His face, naturally strong with manly beauty, was now pale and haggard, showing unmistakable traces of a great sorrow. His large intelligent eyes were now sunk deep in their sockets. A nervous restlessness made him shiver, and his pale cheeks gathered only a little color when an obstinate cough threatened to rend his suffering breast asunder.

His coat betrayed the elegant cut of the fashionable tailor, but it was now old and worn, and hung loosely about his emaciated form. He looked like a teacher on whom fortune had persistently turned her back.

He carried in his hands a thick book, carefully wrapped up in a handkerchief, which he clasped tightly almost tenderly to his breast, as if afraid at any moment it might escape or drop out of his hands. This idea made him tremble. It was indeed his only source of income; by the aid of this valuable book he had already earned many a gold piece in the Tyrolian and Styrian mountains.

His humorous lectures had been received with great approbation in different hotels frequented by many foreign tourists. And still, his earnings were not sufficient to support him and his motherless child, pretty little Marie, whom he had left in the meantime with a family of friends in Dresden. Every silver groschen he had earned was for the support of his child.

He had come all the way from Hallstadt, and this long walk had exhausted his strength considerably; and his heart was sick and heavy. Now he felt a frightful nervousness, fearing not to be able to reach in time the hotel where he was announced to deliver his humorous lecture.

He walked as quickly as he could to the farther end of the valley, where he expected to see a clearing in the forest, and an open road to the hotel. But on all sides he met high, unfamiliar cliffs. Apprehension fell over him like an icy rain.

"Can I have lost my way?" he murmured, breathing heavily, while great beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead.

In an hour's time he was supposed to be at the Mountain View Hotel, and now.... He looked helplessly around. Darkness began to fall, contesting every inch of ground with retreating daylight. His teeth were chattering with a cold chill, when he set out to find another opening.

The continuous excitement of this wandering from one hotel to another, the consuming sorrow, the bleeding wound in his heart, had gradually undermined his constitution, originally none too strong, and now this wearing cough, the insidious fever!... "How upset I feel; it's the peculiar atmosphere," he said to himself. At the same time he remembered that the entertainment he proposed to offer this evening, was not sufficiently furnished with witty epigrams and bons mots. So, bowing and smiling to an imaginary audience of cosmopolitan taste, he began to rehearse his lecture as he walked on, sharpening the humour and adding some popular Austrian witticisms in vogue as trump cards.

Suddenly he looked up and saw a dark cloud threatening down upon him. Heavy gusts of wind commenced to bend the tops of the high, impenetrable trees. The songs of the mocking birds rang from the cedars in the distance in his ear and startled him.

He stopped in alarm and looked distractedly around him. Where was he? He could not make out. In the marshy places the fireflies were seen, wandering about and looking in the distance like malicious eyes of wicked sprites.

There was no longer any doubt, he had taken an entirely wrong direction.

Trembling with excitement, fearing delay, he rushed back to look for the right path, while his hot breath grated audibly on his weak lungs. A fearful storm was gathering, whispering and sobbing like complaining, frightened witches now whirling the leaves into the air vehemently as if driven by the furies of Hades.

A cold shudder ran through his fevered frame. He gazed in helpless despair up and down, not knowing where to turn, while the rain poured down in torrents, soaking him from head to foot, and the centuries old tree-tops groaned and moaned like lost souls in Dante's Inferno. Now everything began to swim around him. Nature was in an uproar and bluster. Every little glowworm seemed to his frightened eyes to grow to gigantic proportions dancing wildly about.

Sharp flashes of lightning lit up the Traunstein ever and anon and seemed to come nearer and nearer, as if trying to march straight down upon him. He wanted to retreat, but could not move; there was a dark mist before his eyes. Uttering a piercing cry, he fell to the ground in a heap because the big monster kept on advancing.

With a tremendous crash, the great mountain burst apart and a whole troop of tiny, little mountain gnomes came out, dancing grotesquely like sprites of another world.

They were garbed in white vestments, like fleecy vapors, with brazen girdles which seemed to be sunbeams, and a cloudy stuff supposed to be mantles hung loosely around their diminutive forms. With bare feet they pattered down upon him. As soon as they caught sight of him they commenced to giggle, swarming around him in great merriment. And then they put their ludicrous little heads together and pointed at him with contempt, whispering tales in falsetto tones to each other, which he could not understand. But he saw by the glare of their twinkling little eyes that they meant him, that they touched on something in his past life.

By and by they became bolder and touched his wet clothes; some of the older ones bent down to him and whispered malicious tales about his wife into his ears. He groaned aloud. "It is a lie! I don't believe a word of it!" he screamed, cursing the whole deceitful band. In his indignation he tried to rise several times in order to drive them away--down into the foaming stream, or back into their mountain riff; but he could not move; his feet seemed to be fastened to the very ground as if paralyzed or chained to earth. They whispered once more the name of his wife with scornful laughter, and passed on over hills and valleys dancing merrily.

Suddenly a bright light shone about him, illuminating the marshy waters; invisible choirs were singing sweetly, as if angels were descending from heaven. His eyes dilated as he saw a procession of tiny elves passing him, carrying little lighted tapers in their diminutive hands. In their midst he saw his dear mother stretching out her arms longingly towards him.

Tears came to his eyes. The dear face! He wanted to run to her, embrace her, but could not stir. A cry of horror broke from his trembling lips when the fair Siren so fatal to his life stood before him, intervening and trying to ensnare him again with the fascination of her glittering eyes, her bewitching smile, speaking to him of love and devotion which he believed again.

He listened to her; and a ray of happiness and delight filled his love-sick heart. She comes back to him! She loves only him! And unheeding the beseeching beckoning of his anxious mother, whose tortured heart writhed and bled for her suffering son, he hastened on with the enticing Siren,--where to, he did not know.

Suddenly they stood before a deep precipice; darkness surrounded them, and the old trees commenced to sigh and moan and bend down upon them. Six shadowy forms with blazing torches appeared upon the scene carrying a coffin. Just in front of him the lid opened and the pale waxen face of his dead mother met his frightened eyes. He screamed aloud with horror. He had broken that noble heart, he had killed the best of mothers, because he had followed this evil spirit of his life.