Part 10

“I wish you would explain it to me,” replied Cristiano; “for I have been trying in vain to recall where I could have seen him; if we ever did meet, the circumstances must have been very insignificant, since my memory of them is so confused. Let me see, has he been travelling in France or Italy since--”

“Oh, it is a long, long time since he left the north!”

“I am mistaken, then; I have never seen the baron before to-day. And yet one would have said that he recognized me. May he not have been delirious when he cried: ‘There it is! there it is!’”

“Oh, that is a sure thing,” said the major. “I have a gardener in my _bostoelle_,[4] who was at one time one of his servants, and who has told me a good many curious things about him. The baron is subject to violent attacks, which his physician calls nervous attacks, and which come from a chronic liver complaint. While these spells last, he sometimes shows signs of the strangest fear. He, the sceptic, the jeering infidel, is as cowardly as a child. He sees ghosts, especially that of a woman, and it is at such moments that he cries: ‘There it is! there it is!’ meaning, I suppose, ‘There, my fit is seizing me!’ or, perhaps, ‘There is the ghost that haunts me!’”

“He seems to be tormented by remorse.”

“Some say it is the recollection of his sister-in-law.”

“Whom he assassinated?”

“They don’t say that he killed her, but merely that he caused her to _disappear_.”

“Yes, that is a more elegant expression.”

“It is quite possible that there is no foundation for either story,” resumed the major. “The fact is that we don’t know anything at all about it, and that the baron is perhaps perfectly innocent of a great many crimes of which he is accused. You know that we are living here on the classical soil of the marvellous. The Dalecarlians have the greatest horror of anything practical, and of natural explanations. You cannot strike against a stone in this country, without supposing that a goblin pushed it against you on purpose; if your nose itches, you must run to a sibyl to be cured of a dwarf’s poisonous bite; nor is there a driver who will mend the broken trace of a carriage or sleigh without saying, ‘Come, come, little goblin, leave us alone; we are not doing you any harm.’”

“You can readily imagine that the Baron de Waldemora could not become very rich, in the midst of such a superstitious people, without being considered an alchemist. Instead of supposing him to be paid by the empress for sustaining her political interests, it was thought more natural to accuse him of magic; and from this accusation to that of the blackest crimes there is only a single step. Every sorcerer drowns his victims in waterfalls, buries them in abysses, rides avalanches, attends the witches’ Sabbath, and at the very least eats human flesh, being thought quite moderate in his ferocious appetites if he only sucks the blood of infants. For my part, I have heard so many stories that I discredit them all, and confine myself to believing what I know; and what I know is, that the baron is a wicked man, too cowardly to strike another man; too well-fed and fastidious to drink blood; too cold-blooded to lie in wait for travellers under frozen lakes; but quite capable of sending his best friend to the gallows, if he had any personal interest in doing so, and had only to utter some wicked calumny to accomplish his purpose.”

“He is a great villain!” said Cristiano. “But allow me to express my surprise at seeing so many respectable persons at his house--”

“You are right,” replied Osmund, without giving him time to continue. “We are unquestionably to blame for coming to amuse ourselves at the entertainments of a man whom we all hate. You have for an excuse that you don’t know him, but as for the rest of us--”

“I did not make any personal allusions,” rejoined Cristiano.

“I know it, my dear fellow; but you should not be surprised to find that a tyrant has a court. You are, of course, familiar with the history of your country; but as you have been absent a number of years, you may have thought that the progress of philosophy has established a little equality between the different orders of the state. It is not so at all, Christian Goefle, not at all; as you will soon see with your own eyes. The nobility is all-powerful; then comes the clergy, enlightened and austere, but also tyrannical and intolerant. The bourgeoise, so useful in the state, and so patriarchal in their manners, count for little, the peasantry for nothing at all, and the king for less than nothing. When a nobleman is rich, which luckily is very rare, he controls the interests and destinies of his whole province, and he either makes men do as he chooses or ruins them. You may rest assured that this would be the case with us young officers, if we should offer any discourtesy to the illustrious Seigneur de Waldemora. It is true that he could not deprive us of our rank, which can only be forfeited in case of actual crime; but, in spite of the inviolable laws of the indelta, we should be forced, by unheard-of persecutions, to abandon our cantonments, houses, estates and friends, as if we were a simple garrison.”

At this moment two other young men came in to smoke, and Cristiano ventured to ask them whether Countess Elfride had returned to the ball-room.

“You are a sly fellow!” replied one of them; “you will not persuade us that you take such an interest in the wicked Countess Elfride. As for her lovely niece, she disappeared at the same time with yourself, and her aunt pretends that she is very lame.”

“_Disappeared_, did you say?” cried Cristiano, unreasonably alarmed at the word.

“Come!” said the major, good-humoredly, “do you feel uneasy about your beauty, my dear Goefle?”

“Excuse me, I have no right to speak so of Countess Margaret. She is certainly beautiful; but, unfortunately for me, she is not _mine_ in any sense of the word.”

“I meant no harm,” replied Osmund, “I merely saw, like everybody else, that she selected you for the partner of her first dance, and that you seemed to be chatting together in a very friendly way. If you are not in love with her you make a mistake, upon my honor, and if she don’t feel some little weakness for you, perhaps she also makes a mistake, for we all think you a capital fellow.”

“It would be altogether a mistake in me,” replied Cristiano, “to aspire to a star too far above me.”

“Bah! because you have no title? But your family has been ennobled, and your uncle, the lawyer, is a distinguished man in talent and character. He is quite as rich, moreover, as the beautiful Margaret. Love removes all obstacles, and if you have disagreeable relations, you can swear fidelity in secret. In our country, such betrothals are as sacred as any, and so, if you want to carry your point, we are all ready to help you.”

“To help me in what?” said Cristiano, laughing.

“To an immediate interview with the countess, unknown to her aunt. Well, comrades, what say you? here are four of us all ready. For my part, I know where their rooms are, and we can go there without a moment’s delay. If Mademoiselle Potin is frightened--pay her compliments, which she really deserves, as to that, for she is a charming person; and if a chambermaid screams, kiss her, and promise her ribbons for her hair. Then we demand a serious conversation with the Countess Margaret for Christian Goefle, in the name of M. Goefle, his uncle, from whom he brings an important communication! Ha!--that’s it. They will introduce us--but of course without our pipes--into a little drawing-room, where we will sit down quietly apart, while Christian Goefle addresses _la diva contessina_ in a low voice, and offers her his heart; or, if he is too timid to do that, lets her divine what his sentiments really are, while he inquires about the dangers with which the peerless little lady is beset, and arranges with her to avert them. I am not laughing, gentlemen. It is quite evident that Madame d’Elveda wants to force the inclination of her ward, and that the cunning Olaus is trying to compromise her, so as to drive off all other suitors. Very well; the situation is magnificent for the man, who, in a crowded ball-room, took up the gauntlet for the victim of this odious and ridiculous plot. Come, Christian! come, gentlemen, are you ready? _Parbleu!_ You shall have your turn! Another time, Christian, you shall be the one to assist us in love affairs as virtuous as your own; we ought to be able to rely upon each other to that extent, we young folks. In Heaven’s name, what would have become of us before now, if we were not all devoted friends and confidants? Forward! To the assault of the citadel. Follow me, if you love me!”

All started up, even Cristiano himself, for he could not help being carried away by the proposition, but he paused at the door of the room, and stopped the others.

“Thanks, gentlemen,” he said, “and depend upon it that I will go through fire for you when necessary, but I have no right to introduce this sweet romance into my life. Nothing in the conduct of Countess Margaret authorized me to undertake her defence, which I did in a moment of thoughtless indignation, and I have no reason now to hope that she thanks me for my interference. She may be offended, on the contrary; and it belongs to M. Goefle the lawyer, and to him alone, to protect her from her aunt, by acquainting her with her rights. The best thing for me to do, since my beautiful partner has left off dancing, and my terrible rival does not fight, is to go and have a good sleep, of which I am really very much in need, since I have been upon my feet for more than twenty-four hours.”

Cristiano’s sentiments were approved of, and he was loudly applauded for his gallantry. They tried to make him stop and drink with them, supposing this to be an irresistible temptation, but Cristiano was sober, as the inhabitants of warm countries usually are. The night was advancing, and he thought it more prudent to put an end to the comedy performed hitherto with so much success. He shook hands with his new friends, bade them adieu, promised to return to breakfast while inwardly resolving to do nothing of the kind, and without giving them time to inquire what part of the new chateau he was stopping in, returned lightly and mysteriously over the frozen lake.

It was on purpose that he left Loki, and the sleigh of the doctor of laws, at the new chateau; he was afraid that they would be heard, and cause him to be observed. He walked along the shore, until too far to be seen from the windows of the chateau, and then crossed to the door of Stollborg, which he had left open, and which no one, Ulphilas least of all, had thought of coming to fasten.

He took these precautions, because, to the pale light of the moon, which was no longer visible, had succeeded the fleeting but brilliant splendor of a magnificent aurora borealis. It was magnificent, at all events, for this region, although it is quite probable that it would have been a very ordinary display at a higher degree of north latitude; and yet the illumination towards the polar regions must have been unusually vivid at this moment, for it lighted up the whole country, and every object around the frozen lake. The snow, under its varying reflections, was showing a fantastic and magnificent succession of red and blue colors, and Cristiano, before entering the bear-room, remained for several moments at the door of the court, unable, in spite of the cold and solitude, to tear himself from this wonderful spectacle.

[Footnote 4: The _bostoelle_ of the officers of the _indelta_ is a house and lands, which they have the use of, and whose rent is proportioned to their rank. This rent is their salary. The minister’s house is also called his _bostoelle_, and the minister has the use of it besides his other perquisites. The soldier of the _indelta_ has his _torp_, his little house with a garden and a few acres of land. The _indelta_ is a rural army, whose excellent organization was formed by Charles XII., and to which there is nothing analogous elsewhere.]

V.

IT was eight o’clock next morning when M. Goefle awoke. Probably he had not rested as well as usual during the night, for he was habitually an early riser, and was quite scandalized to find himself abed at such an hour. It is true that he had reckoned upon little Nils to wake him, but Nils was still sound asleep, and, after several attempts to arouse him, M. Goefle concluded to let him lie as long as he chose. This was not ill-temper on the part of the doctor of laws, but simply complete despair of obtaining any service from his valet-de-chambre. Resigning himself to necessity, therefore, he lighted his own fire, and then proceeded, like a methodical man as he was, by the light of a candle, which somehow seemed to be asleep standing, to shave, and to comb and curl his wig as carefully, and as well too, as if all his conveniences had been at hand. Lastly, having completed his toilet, all except his coat, which was ready to slip on in case of need, he wound up his watch, looked out at the sky, saw that there was not yet the least trace of sunrise, put on his dressing-gown, and, opening the two intermediate doors, prepared to put things in order in his saloon, the bear-room, intending to go to work there, quietly and comfortably, until breakfast-time.

But as he approached the stove, holding up his hand between his eyes and the flickering light of his candle, he started to see a human figure lying down between the stove and himself, the body sunk into the large arm-chair, the head lying over backwards upon the stuffed back, and the legs, thrust at a level with the body, into the large opening for hot air just above the grate of the stove.

“Hallo! What a sleeping beauty!” exclaimed the advocate; “he has really a superb face!” and he stopped to look at Cristiano, who was sleeping peacefully and profoundly. “It is some young gentleman or other who has run away to this old place from the noise and confusion of the new chateau, as I did. Well, I hoped I should be alone in this cursed hole, at any rate; but, if I can’t, I must make up my mind to have company, I suppose. Fortunately this young man looks agreeable. The poor fellow must have been very careful, for he made not the least noise, and did not hunt at all for any better bed than that arm-chair, which must be breaking him in two across the loins!”

Then M. Goefle touched lightly the cheek of Cristiano, who motioned as if driving off a fly, but did not wake up.

“He is warm enough, at any rate,” said the lawyer again. “That’s a capital furred cloak--just like my travelling-cloak; why, it’s exactly like it! Where is mine, by the way? Oh, I see; he found it on the chair, and just put it on. Faith, he was quite right. I should have made him perfectly welcome to it; indeed, I would have given him the other bed in my room, and Master Nils should have been obliging enough to sleep on the sofa. I am sorry the young man thought it necessary to be so particular! Really altogether too particular, I must say! A well-bred fellow, too, that’s evident; and careful of his toilet, for he took his coat off when he went to sleep; that’s a mark of a good, steady character. Let’s see what can be our young friend’s profession: a black coat--quite like my own best dress-coat--so very like it that it _is_ mine, for there’s my own handkerchief perfumed with musk, and--ah! he has been using my invitation to the ball. And my white gloves! where are my white gloves? On the floor!--just where they ought to be, too, for they are entirely spoiled. Ah, ah, my fine fellow, you are not so ceremonious as I thought! indeed, I can venture to assert that you make yourself very much at home. You lose your baggage, or you don’t take the trouble to unpack, and you help yourself to whatever you think proper out of mine. Young people play such tricks on one another, I know. I remember a certain ball at Christiania, where I danced all night in poor Stangstadius’s clothes, and he had to lie abed until I came back--and all next day too, for I let them carry me off. But nonsense! we were young then. At my age it will not do to allow that sort of fun--to other people. Hallo, hallo, monsieur! Wake up! Give me my breeches and silk stockings! God pardon me, what a quantity of stitches the young animal has started in dancing! And he won’t even condescend to open his eyes!”

As he made these observations in rapid succession, M. Goefle at last espied the clothes that Cristiano had laid off the evening before, and which, overcome by sleep at his return, he had left upon another chair. The threadbare trousers, the equally worn Venetian cloak, and the famous corded Tyrolian hat, launched M. Goefle upon a new sea of conjectures. Could this handsome young man, with his distinguished face and well-shaped hands, be some mere Bohemian, a bear-leader perhaps, a travelling pedler, a wandering singer? An Italian singer, possibly? No; his face was unmistakably a Dalecarlian one. A conjurer--perhaps a good deal too skilful in the line of his profession? No; for M. Goefle found his purse all safe in his trunk, and the sleeper’s face was an extremely honest one. He slept the sleep of innocence, too, most assuredly.

What was to be supposed, and what was to be done? The lawyer scratched his head. Possibly this wretched costume was a disguise which the young man had assumed to conceal himself while running about to play the Don Juan under the balcony of some pretty visitor at the new chateau. But finding none of his guesses satisfactory, M. Goefle finally set to work in earnest to awaken his visitor, shaking him repeatedly, and bawling into his ear, “Here, here, hallo! I say! Come, neighbor, wake up!” and such other exclamations as impatient people use for the benefit of obstinate sleepers.

Cristiano at last opened his eyes, looked fixedly at M. Goefle without seeing him, and with a truly Olympian calmness shut them again.

“Ah, there you go again,” said the lawyer, “off to dream-land!”

“What is it? What’s the matter? Does the aurora borealis last yet?” asked Cristiano, whose half sleep was evidently cradled in pleasant dreams.

“Where can you get an aurora borealis at this time of day?” asked M. Goefle; “it’s just before sunrise.”

“The sun? What is the use of talking about the sun in the middle of a ball?” asked Cristiano, in the coaxing voice of a sleeper who is begging to be let alone.

“Yes, that’s it; the ball, my coat, the sun, my small-clothes, the aurora borealis,” replied M. Goefle, “all very logical and well connected in your dreams, no doubt, my good friend, but I want you to give a better account of yourself, and I shall keep on shaking you until you can make out a more satisfactory case than that.”

Good-natured Cristiano submitted to the shaking with incomparable meekness. The habit he had acquired of sleeping on the first board he came to, whether at sea in all sorts of weather or on the road in all sorts of vehicles, rendered even the vigorous rocking which the lawyer was bestowing upon him rather agreeable than otherwise; it was just sufficient to make him pleasantly conscious that he was in a state of repose. Gradually, however, the idea made its way into his mind, of ascertaining what place he was in. He opened his eyes, looked at the stove, turned about and gazed, as if to question the sombre walls of the room.

“Deuce take me!” he exclaimed, “if I know where I am. But, after all, what difference does it make? Here to-day, somewhere else to-morrow! Such is life!”

“Please to take the trouble, at least,” said the lawyer, “to observe in whose company you are.”

Well satisfied with this dignified command, M. Goefle waited for the surprise, or terror, or confusion, which were to appear in the face of the delinquent, but in vain. Cristiano rubbed his eyes, looked upon him with a smile, and observed in the most affable manner:

“A very good face, yours, sir! What do you want of me?”

“What do I want of you?” exclaimed M. Goefle, with some indignation; “I want my fur cloak, my cap, my waistcoat, my shirt, my slippers;--I want everything of mine that you have clothed and ornamented your lovely person with.”

“Bah! bah! What makes you think so? You are dreaming, my good man!” said the adventurer, raising himself to a sitting posture, and looking with astonishment upon his borrowed wardrobe. Then, laughing, as he began confusedly to remember the night’s transactions, he continued:

“Upon my word, Monsieur Goefle--it is that very respectable and eminent gentleman to whom I have the honor of speaking, is it not?”

“I have every reason to believe so, monsieur. Well, then?--”

“Well, then,” replied Cristiano, rising promptly and removing the doctor’s cap from his own head, with perfect courtesy, “I have to beg a thousand pardons--though at the same time I do not merit a single one. Please to consider, sir--I am a young man, and just at this moment quite destitute. A romantic notion led me to the ball last night, and I found no decent clothes within my reach except these, which Providence seemed to have sent on purpose. I am perfectly cleanly, and in perfect health; and moreover, if you should object to wear the clothes after me, I shall be able to-morrow to pay you for them, whatever price you choose to value them at.”

“A good joke that would be! Do you take me for a tailor?”

“By no means; but I should be extremely pained to be thought a thief. That is not my character at all.”

“Faith, I see that you are an honest young fellow--but you are very thoughtless. Still, even if I were inclined to be angry, the thing is done, and can’t be helped. I see very well that your health is good, for, by Jove, you have a magnificent color! And what hair! Ah, my fine fellow, I recognize the perfume of my hair-powder! But how the devil did you get into the ball-room without an invitation? for your style of travelling-dress does not indicate--”

“That I belong in good society, you were going to say? Oh, say so! I am not all susceptible on that point.”

“But, after all, I don’t know anything about it. The clothes don’t make the man. You have a very aristocratic hand. Come--out with it! Who are you? If there’s a romance, I’m fond of romantic stories; and if there’s a secret--well, your face pleases me, and I promise to be as discreet--as discreet as a lawyer--more could not be said.”

“I do not doubt your discretion, Monsieur Goefle,” said Cristiano, “and besides, I have no secrets that I need hesitate to reveal to a man of sense and character; but I give you notice that my story is rather long, and the stove is almost entirely cold. And to tell you the truth, although I had a very good supper last night, my appetite always wakes up as soon as I do; and I already feel some twinges.”

“How do you suppose I feel, then?” said the lawyer; “for I am always in the habit of taking my tea in bed, as soon as I wake. That blockhead of an Ulphilas has abandoned me altogether. There are the very same dishes on the table that were there last night.”

“Thanks to me, then, Monsieur Goefle; for I recognize the same ham and fish that I purloined out of the kitchen of your friend M. Ulph--what is his name?”

“Ulph; for Ulphilas. Yes, that is quite correct. Hereabouts, they abridge all names. They make monosyllables of them all, apparently for fear that otherwise, when they called anybody, half of his name should freeze in the air. If I am indebted to you for my supper, then, I must conclude that this said Ulph would have let me perish of hunger--he! he!--in this very room, about which there is already one story of the kind. Perhaps the rascal meant to leave me to the same fate, so as to make sure that the room should deserve its reputation.”

“Is it the Baroness Hilda who starved to death here, Monsieur Goefle?”