Part 3

M. Goefle did not find it necessary to look into the closet, after he had once taken possession of the double-bedded room. Glancing at the mantle-piece, he saw a pair of heavy candlesticks with three branches, each of them holding three wax candles. It was time; the end of the candle was expiring in the lantern.

“Since there is no danger of our being left in the dark,” said M. Goefle to the child, “we may as well make our arrangements here at once. Light the fire, and I will take the bed-clothes from the closet.”

The bed-clothes were laid upon the beds before Nils had succeeded in doing anything more than fill the room with smoke. When it was time to make the beds, which were enormous, he could think of nothing better than climbing up on top of them, so as to reach the middle of the bolster. M. Goefle was very much inclined to get angry, but since this would only have been a signal for tears, he resigned himself to his fate, and made not only his own bed, but that also of his little valet.

Although he had never done any work of the kind, he was succeeding very creditably, when a fearful noise in the bear-room (the doors between the two rooms had been left open) interrupted him. It was a sort of wild, unearthly, and yet absurd yell. Nils tumbled down on his hands and knees, and considered it prudent to hide under the bed, while M. Goefle, with staring eyes and open mouth, asked himself, without any alarm, but with great surprise, what could be the meaning of such a serenade.

“If, as I firmly believe,” he thought, “it is some practical joker who wants to frighten me, he imitates the growling of the bear in a singular manner. The voice of the ass he really does reproduce, and with remarkable skill; but does he take me for a Laplander, and imagine that I have never heard an ass bray? Come, come, Nils,” he continued, looking for his little valet, “there is no magic here; let us go and see what the matter is.”

Nils would have perished rather than stir, or even answer; and M. Goefle, not knowing what had become of him, went in alone to reconnoitre.

He was not a little surprised to find himself, in the middle of the bear-room, face to face with a veritable ass, and a fine one too (he had never seen its equal in Sweden), with such an honest countenance, that it was impossible to give him an unkind reception, or to take his visit in bad part.

“Well, my poor friend,” said Monsieur Goefle, laughing, “where do you come from? What are you doing in this country, and what request did you just make of me?”

If Jean had had the gift of human speech, he would have replied that he had taken a good nap, while confidently awaiting his master’s return, in his hiding-place under the staircase, where no one had thought of looking; but that, finding that his master did not return, and beginning to feel very hungry, he had lost patience, and, undoing the rope, which was not well tied, had come to ask M. Goefle for some supper.

The latter easily guessed what he wanted, but he could not understand why Ulph, whom he supposed intrusted with the care of this ass, should have given him the haunted chamber of Stollborg for a stable. He thought of a world of things. As this animal is a great rarity in cold countries, the baron, who had a team of reindeer as well (another rarity in this region, too cold for the ass and not cold enough for the reindeer), probably valued him very highly, and had ordered the overseer of the old chateau to take care of him, and keep him in a warm place.

“That accounts for the fire in the stove,” said M. Goefle to himself; “but I can’t understand why Ulph, instead of telling the simple truth, should have pretended to believe the room haunted. Perhaps he was ordered to fit up one of the stables for the occasion, and not having done so, wished to conceal his negligence; he hoped, no doubt, that I would be disgusted with the room, or would not notice the presence of this strange companion. Anyhow,” M. Goefle added, turning gayly to Jean, whose face amused him, “I beg your pardon, my poor ass, but I don’t feel inclined to keep you so near me. You have a remarkably good voice, and I don’t sleep soundly. I am going to take you to Loki, who will be a warm, comfortable companion; and, for to-night, you will have to share his supper and straw. Come, Nils, come, my child; you must light me to the stable.”

Receiving no reply, M. Goefle was obliged to return to the guard-room and find the child’s hiding-place; pulling him out by one leg, he carried him back and seated him, whether he would or not, upon the back of the ass. At first, Master Nils, thinking that he was astride the imaginary bear, uttered piercing cries. He had never seen an ass, and was as much alarmed by Jean’s long ears as he would have been by the horns of the devil; but gradually the tranquillity and gentleness of the poor beast restored his courage. M. Goefle gave him the candlestick with three branches; he himself led the ass by the halter, and, leaving the tower, they all three turned into the wooden gallery, with its mossy shed, that surrounded the snow-covered court, and proceeded towards the stable.

At this very moment, Ulph came out of the pavilion in which his uncle lived, and proceeded towards the tower, with a lantern in one hand, and in the other a large basket-full of articles for setting the lawyer’s table. Ulph now was as eager to return to the bear-room as, a little while before, he had been unwilling to enter it. This is what had happened to him.

Like a true Swede, Ulph was all kindness and hospitality; but since he had been living in the gloomy chateau of Stollborg, with his deaf and melancholy uncle, the poor fellow had become so superstitious and cowardly that he never failed to lock himself up in his room as soon as the sun went down, with the firm resolution of not admitting any suspicious characters after that hour, but of leaving them rather to perish in the ice and snow. If the outer door of the chateau had not been broken open by Puffo’s vigorous fist, and if Ulph had not recognized the lawyer’s voice in the court, the respectable doctor of laws would certainly have been obliged to return to the new chateau, in spite of his dread of its noise and confusion.

After introducing him into the tower, Ulph became a little more tranquil. He even said to himself that it was all for the best. If M. Goefle wanted to defy the devil it was his own business, and it was far better to have to admit him than to be obliged to reconduct him to the new chateau; an order that would have entailed upon the unfortunate guide the terrible necessity of returning alone over a lake peopled with frightful goblins. The old overseer of Stollborg was delicate, chilly, and accustomed to retire early. Happily, he had already shut himself up in his pavilion, which stood at the end of a small inner court, and which had no view of the outer court, as all its windows overlooked the lake. Whether asleep or not, therefore, it was not at all likely that he would suspect the presence of his guest before the next morning. After reflecting deeply, Ulph resolved not to disturb him, and to do his best to prepare M. Goefle a good supper. Sten himself was very frugal, but he was treated with great consideration by his master, the Baron de Waldemora (proprietor both of the new chateau and the old tower), who, once for all, had given his new steward the strictest orders to provide liberally for this old and faithful servant of his house.

Ulph loved good living, and seeing that his uncle sent back, out of prudence and economy, the superfluous provisions brought from the new chateau, he made arrangements, without telling him anything about it, to receive everything himself. He concealed his gastronomic wealth in a certain mysterious corner of the kitchen, and kept his bottles of old wine, which must have been exceedingly valuable in a country where the vine is a hot-house plant, piled up behind a row of empty hogsheads, in a certain little cellar in the rock, very cool in summer and very warm in winter.

Ulph was not covetous; he was an honest fellow, who would not upon any account have made money out of the baron’s presents. He was good-hearted too, and, whenever he could keep a friend with him, he invited him in a mysterious manner to share his precious bottles; drinking alone is sad, and he was only too happy to be able to enjoy them in company. But it was so well established that the chateau was haunted, not by a bear, as Nils imagined, but by an unhappy ghost, that poor Ulph could not persuade a single boon companion to stop with him a moment after sunset. To keep up his courage, he was obliged to finish his bottles himself; and it was at such times that he beheld the wicked _trolls_ and _stroemkarls_, who try to lead their victims to waterfalls, and throw them in. It was probably to avoid being tempted to follow them, that the judicious Ulphilas drank until he had entirely lost the use of his legs. There were a number of free-thinkers and cosmopolites who did not believe in anything, among the baron’s numerous suite of servants, but Stenson hated them all more or less, and his nephew Ulphilas shared his antipathies.

Ulphilas Stenson, therefore, had plenty of materials for the doctor’s supper, and he was not a bad hand at frying and roasting. After all, the lawyer’s gayety had inspirited him a little, and he was looking forward to having a pleasant chat while waiting on the table, when his cheerful ideas were suddenly disturbed by strange sounds. He imagined that he heard a stealthy rustling in the thick walls, a creaking in the wainscots! Twenty times the frying-pan fell from his hand, and at one moment he was so sure that his sighs of terror were repeated behind him by a mocking echo, that he remained for three good minutes without daring to breathe, and far less to turn around.

This was what made him so slow in preparing this much-desired repast. At last, when he had finished his work after a fashion, he went down into the cellar to get some wine. There new agonies awaited him. Just as he was about leaving this sanctuary with a sufficient load, a tall black figure glided before him. His lantern went out, and the same mysterious steps that had already frightened him almost out of his wits, went rapidly up the cellar stairs. Ulph came very near fainting; but, recovering his courage, he returned to the kitchen, and leaving his saucepans simmering on the stove, resolved, under the pretence of setting the table, to go and see whether M. Goefle would not cure him of his terror.

It was at this very moment, as he was coming along the wooden gallery with his useful load, that he met face to face a whimsical apparition. There before him he beheld the doctor of laws in his night-cap, leading by the halter a strange, monstrous animal (like a true Dalecarlian peasant of those days, Ulph had never seen the ass, and perhaps had never heard of it), while upon this animal, whose long ears cast gigantic shadows along the gallery, rode a little red devil bearing a triple flame; the very imp whom M. Goefle had wished to pass off as his valet, but who could only be the kobold in person, the familiar demon whom he had boasted of having in his service.

This was too much for poor Ulph. He respected kobolds, but he did not want to see them. His grasp failed; he set his basket on the ground, and, turning short round, fled, and shut himself up in his room, swearing by his eternal salvation that he would not come out again that night, even although the lawyer should die of hunger and the devil should eat up his supper.

It was all in vain that M. Goefle called. He received no reply, and after conducting the ass to the stable, he took up the abandoned basket and returned to set the table, with Nils’s help, in the bear-room.

“Well,” he said, “travellers must be philosophical. Here are glasses, dishes and napkins, so we will hope that that lunatic will provide us with some food as well. We shall have to wait his good pleasure, since there is no means of doing otherwise; and, in the meanwhile, we can open these bottles, which look promising.”

Nils set the table quite neatly, the fire blazed merrily in the stove, and Monsieur Goefle had quite recovered his natural good-humor, when the child began tumbling about in a languid, helpless way, which showed that he had suddenly become sleepy.

“Look out there!” cried the lawyer; “wake up! You have to eat yet; you must be hungry.”

“Oh yes! Monsieur Goefle,” replied the child; “but I want to sleep so much! I can never wait all the while until your supper is brought and you have done eating. Give me a little of this bread and blackberry jam; then I will be stronger, and will wait upon you.”

M. Goefle himself opened the pot of sweetmeats, and Nils seated himself unceremoniously in the place intended for his master, while the latter warmed his feet, which had been chilled by their expedition to the stable. M. Goefle was as active in imagination as fluent in speech. When there was no opportunity for talking, his mind kept busily at work, or he abandoned himself to agreeable reveries. In a little while he began to feel the pangs of hunger again, and turned to see whether Ulph had returned, at last, with some more solid dish than sweetmeats; but he only saw little Nils fast asleep, with his head on the table and his nose in the plate.

“Come, come!” he said, shaking him; “now that you have had something to eat, you must keep awake. I want you to wait upon me. Go and see whether Ulph--”

It was useless for M. Goefle to finish. Nils was overcome by the irresistible sleep of childhood. He got up, but his eyes were vacant, and he staggered like a drunken man. The lawyer really pitied him.

“Well, go to bed,” he said, “since you are good for nothing.”

Nils turned to go to the guard-room, but stopped at the door, and, leaning against it, fell fast asleep standing. He had to be carried to bed. Then there was another trouble. The little man really could not take off his gaiters. M. Goefle had to take off his valet’s gaiters, and this was not an easy task, for the shoes were tight, and the child’s legs were swollen with fatigue.

When he was going to hoist him into his bed, he saw that the little rogue had already crept in, all dressed.

“The devil take you!” he said; “do you suppose I gave you those beautiful new clothes to sleep in? Get up and undress yourself; it is the least you can do.”

He pulled him out of bed, whether he wished it or not, but the child made useless efforts to unbutton himself. Aunt Gertrude, delighted to have full swing in dressing him up like a little valet before introducing him to his master, had had his elk-skin small-clothes and his red cloth vest made so tight, that they fitted him like wax. M. Goefle himself could scarcely pull them off. While thus engaged, he had to take him upon his knees before the fire, for the child was shivering with cold. It was useless for him to get angry, and curse Gertrude for giving him such a servant; he could not be so inhuman as to let him freeze. And then Nils disarmed him by his pretty ways. At every word of reproach, he would reply artlessly:

“You will see to-morrow, Monsieur Goefle: I will do all that you tell me, and then I will love you so much!”

“That will always be the way,” replied the good lawyer, shaking him a little. “I prefer to be rather less loved and a little better waited on.”

At last Nils was in bed, and M. Goefle turned to go in quest of his problematical supper, when the child called him back unceremoniously, and said in a reproachful voice:

“Wait, monsieur; you are not going to leave me all alone!”

“What more?” cried the doctor of laws. “Do you want company to sleep?”

“But, Monsieur Goefle, I never slept alone in my room at the pastor’s house; and here, above all, where I am so afraid. Oh! stop--stop; if you are going to leave me, I had rather sleep on the floor in the room where you are.”

Wide awake now as a cat, Nils jumped out of bed, and started to follow his master into the bear-room, in his shirt. M. Goefle lost all patience. He scolded; Nils took to crying again. He was going to shut him up. Nils began to howl. The doctor of laws formed an heroic determination.

“Since I have been so foolish,” he said, “as to suppose that a child ten years old was fourteen, and to imagine that Gertrude had a grain of common sense in her brain, I must pay the penalty. Five minutes’ patience and this young rogue will be fast asleep; while if I excite him by my opposition, God only knows how long I shall have to hear him groaning or braying.”

He went into the bear-room to get one of his bundles of papers, not without cursing the child, who followed with naked feet, and would scarcely give him time to find his spectacles; and then sat down before the fire in the guard-room, with the doors shut, as it was not very warm. After asking Nils ironically whether he did not want to be sung to sleep, he buried himself in his dusty papers, and forgot all about the supper, which did not arrive, and the child, who was snoring with all his might.

[Footnote 1: Gevala, Gefle, Gesle, and Goefle, are different ways of writing the name of the same town. The name of the advocate in question happened to be the same as that of the town in which he practised.]

II.

BUT what was Cristiano about while M. Goefle was meeting with all these adventures? The reader has probably guessed that the mocking goblin wandering about poor Ulph in kitchen and cellar was our adventurer in person, in pursuit of his supper. Ulph’s terrors and agonies enabled him to carry off the most portable dishes in the kitchen, almost under his nose. In the cellar he was less fortunate. On blowing out the coward’s light, he had found himself in such utter darkness that he was afraid of being shut up fasting in this subterranean vault. He had hastened, therefore, to retrace his steps, while consoling himself with the thought that he could seize the bottles which Ulph would be sure to bring up, at a more favorable moment.

The adventurer had lost some little time in cautiously exploring the secret passage of the bear-room, which we shall describe rather later; escaping from it with some difficulty, he introduced himself secretly into M. Stenson’s pavilion, and so had not been in a position to notice M. Goefle’s arrival. He thought, therefore, that the supper was being prepared for the old overseer. Before returning to his self-selected lodging, he had still to find some supper for his ass, and for several moments after Ulph’s final fit of terror, he was wandering about in the small court adjoining the outer enclosure; hence he lost the diverting spectacle of M. Goefle in his night-cap, leading the ass in triumph to the stable, with the help of his kobold in red livery. As he explored the old building in every direction, and opened all the doors that were not firmly bolted, Cristiano came at last to the stable, where he was delighted to see Master Jean eating his supper with a good appetite, and trampling upon a thick litter of dry moss, in company with a handsome black horse, who seemed to make him very welcome.

“Really, beasts are sometimes more reasonable and more hospitable than men,” thought Cristiano, caressing the noble animal. “Since we have been travelling in this cold country, Jean has been regarded with amazement, fear, or repugnance, in the various villages and peasants’ huts where we have stopped, and I myself, in spite of the affable manners of the people of this country, have fallen into a strange den of gloomy or absent-minded beings, where I am obliged to go marauding, like a soldier on a campaign. This good horse, on the contrary, makes room for Jean in his stall, without asking him the meaning of his long ears, and treats him from the start as an equal. Well, Jean, good-night, my friend! If I should ask you who had brought you here and supplied your wants to your heart’s desire, you would not perhaps have the goodness to reply; and I should suppose, if I did not see that some one had tied you by your halter, that you had been sensible enough to come of your own accord. Well, anyhow I will follow your example, and go and take my supper without thinking of the morrow.”

Cristiano shut the stable-door and returned to the bear-room, where he was agreeably surprised to find the table set with handsome dishes, heavy silver, and a white table-cloth, soiled only by a few sweetmeat stains around Nils’s plate.

“Hallo!” cried the adventurer, gayly, “these good people have finished, or rather they have begun with the dessert! But who the devil has been here in my absence? Puffo would not have been neat enough to set the table; that is not at all his style in travelling. Besides, he must have gone to the new chateau to seek his fortune, or I should have met him while exploring the old one. In fact, I never expected to receive any assistance from that fellow. If he has found a comfortable place for himself in some kitchen, no matter where, he will be sure to forget all about me, and I was quite right to take care of myself. But no matter, if he should happen to return here to sleep, the poor devil must not freeze at the door of the chateau.”

Cristiano went and opened the door of the court, which Ulph, after M. Goefle’s arrival, had taken pains to fasten, and returned firmly resolved to have his supper, no matter with whom, by fair means or foul.

“I have a right to it,” he continued; “the dishes are empty, and the food I bring fills them handsomely. If I have a companion here, and he proves good-natured, we will join forces; otherwise we will see which of the two is to turn the other out of doors.”

While talking in this way, Cristiano went to see whether his baggage had been disturbed. He found it in the corner where he had left it, and where it had not been noticed. He then examined M. Goefle’s trunk, valise and effects; his clothes scattered about upon the chairs (the linen carefully folded to be laid away in a closet, and the coats stretched over the backs of the chairs to get smooth); and, last of all, the empty valise, upon the cover of which he read these words:--_M. Thormund Goefle, Advocate, Gevala; Doctor of Law, Faculty of Lund_.