Part 46

The opportunity for pleading was too fine to be lost; M. Goefle could not help taking advantage of it. He spoke with inspiration, summed up the facts of the case rapidly, related portions of Christian’s life, after having established his identity by means of Manasses’ letters to Stenson, explained the romantic circumstances of the last two days, and indeed succeeded so well in convincing his auditors, that they forgot all about the lateness of the hour and their own fatigue, and asked him question after question, so as to keep him talking. Finally, they all signed an official report of the proceedings.

The Baron de Lindenwald made a last effort to revive the drooping courage of the other heirs.

“No matter,” he said, rising, for the doors were open, and any one was free to withdraw, “we shall find out the truth of all these ridiculous fictions: we will go to law!”

“I suppose so,” replied M. Goefle, with great animation; “but we shall await you on firm ground.”

“For my part, I shall not go to law,” said the Count de Nora; “I am convinced, and I shall sign.”

“These gentlemen will not go to law either,” said the ambassador, pointedly.

“Oh, yes they will,” rejoined M. Goefle, “but they will lose.”

“We will attack the validity of the marriage,” cried the baron; “Hilda de Blixen was a Catholic.”

Christian was going to reply angrily, when M. Goefle hastened to interrupt him:

“How do you know that, monsieur?” he said to the baron. “Where are your proofs? Where is this pretended chapel to the Virgin which she is said to have erected? Now that the mysteries of Stollborg are disclosed to all, what evidence remains of this ridiculous fable, which served as a pretext to several persons here present for abandoning that unhappy woman to persecution and to death?”

“This Christian Goffredi may be a Catholic also; he was brought up in Italy!” muttered the heirs, as they withdrew. “Patience! we will know the truth of it, and will see whether a man who cannot have a seat in the Diet, nor be appointed to any office, is to inherit a domain entitling him to all the privileges of the nobility.”

“Be quiet, Christian, hold your tongue!” said M. Goefle, in a low voice, holding Christian back with all his force, as the latter started up to follow his adversaries out and defy them to their faces. “Remain where you are, or all is lost. Be a dissenter, if you choose, when you have inherited; but, for the present, keep quiet about it. No one has remarked that the bear-room has become square again.”

“What do you mean?” inquired the major of M. Goefle. “Why should we hesitate to admit every one freely into the upper room, since the pretended chapel does not exist?”

“We could do so,” replied M. Goefle, “if we had not already broken into it. As it is, they would accuse us of having removed the evidences of the prohibited worship.”

Countess Elveda now approached Christian, and said to him, with her most gracious air:

“At present, baron, I sincerely trust that I shall have the pleasure of seeing you in Stockholm--”

“Will you still consent to receive me,” he replied, “only on condition that I am to start for Russia?”

“No,” she said, “I leave you free to select her to whom you have given your heart.”

“Will Countess Margaret accompany you to Stockholm?” said Christian, in a low voice.

“She may join me, perhaps, when you have gained your lawsuit, if lawsuit there is to be. In the meanwhile, she must return to her chateau. It is all settled, and prudence requires it. For my part, I hold to my promise, and am still ready to carry you to Stockholm, where you will be obliged to go to have your affairs settled.”

“I thank you, madame; but I am entirely under the control of my lawyer, who has further use for me here.”

“Au revoir, then!” replied the countess, taking the arm of the ambassador, who said to her, as they went out:

“I am quite as well pleased to have that handsome young baron decline travelling with you!”

Margaret bade adieu to her aunt at the door of Stollborg, and started with her governess and the Akerstrom family for the parsonage, where she was to take some rest before returning to Dalby. She did not exchange a word, or even a glance, with Christian, but it was none the less tacitly understood between them that she was not to leave the neighborhood until they had seen each other again.

The major returned, with his soldiers and his prisoners, to the new chateau, where he was to await the receipt of orders as to whether he was to continue the exercise of his authority. The danneman and his family returned to their mountain, Karine, to the last, being unable to comprehend that she beheld in Christian the child of the lake. Her mind could not so readily be brought back, from the fantasies in which she lived, to a perception of real things. And indeed, even in after years, although her condition was very much ameliorated, although she felt instinctively that she was freed from a great trouble, she never, while she lived, really succeeded in identifying Christian, and she very often confounded him with his father, the young Baron Adelstan.

It was four o’clock in the morning; and though it was the custom of the country to go to bed very late, at a time of the year when the nights are so long, the principal persons of our story had passed through such a series of vehement emotions, that they were all overwhelmed with fatigue. They all retired, therefore, and slept profoundly, being more fortunate in this, probably, than Johan and his gang, shut up in the tower of the new chateau, where they had imprisoned and tortured so many people.

However, before day-break, Stenson glided softly to Christian’s bedside, and after gazing upon him with rapture for a few seconds, he waked him, without arousing M. Goefle.

“Rise, my master!” he whispered in his ear, “I have something to say to you which must be heard by yourself alone! I will await you in the inner room.”

Christian dressed himself quickly and silently, and closing the doors behind him, followed Stenson into the deserted and dilapidated apartment into which he had penetrated on the previous evening. The old man uncovered his head with reverence.

“Here, Monsieur Baron,” he said, “behind this wainscot, where you see a dove carved in marble, a mystery is hidden, that ought to be revealed to you alone. Here it is that your mother had secretly erected an altar to the Virgin; for she was a Catholic, the fact is too certain. The exercise of her worship being forbidden in her husband’s country, madame was obliged to conceal her faith, so as not to draw down persecution upon his head.

“Pastor Mickelson could never prove this. The altar was brought and placed in this hiding-place by Italian workmen, travelling through the country, who had executed other commissions in marble, and in wood, at the new chateau. I was the only person in her confidence. There was a learned old Frenchman among the retainers of the chateau, who was a Catholic priest, unknown to every one, and who said mass here secretly; but he had died, and the Italian workmen had departed at the time of the persecution of your poor mother. You must see this altar, Monsieur Baron, and, whatever may be your own religion, you must regard it with respect. Help me to move the spring in the wainscot, which is probably very rusty.”

“You mean that your poor arms are swollen and aching,” said Christian, kissing the old man’s tortured hands.

“Ah! do not pity me,” said Stenson, “my hands will get well; I do not feel them, all that I have suffered is as nothing in comparison with my present happiness.”

Christian opened the wainscot as Stenson directed, and after drawing a curtain of gilt leather, he saw a white marble altar, in the form of a sarcophagus. Stenson, who was deeply agitated, fell upon his knees.

“Are you a Catholic also, my friend?” Christian asked.

Stenson shook his head in the negative, but without seeming offended by the question. Tears rolled slowly over his pallid cheeks.

“Stenson!” cried Christian, “my mother reposes here. This altar became her tomb!”

“Yes,” said the old man, almost suffocated by his sobs; “here it is that Karine and I buried her, in her white robe, and crowned with a cypress wreath, for it was not the season of flowers. We laid her in a coffin filled with aromatics, and the coffin we placed in this sepulchre, stainless as that of Christ. I sealed it up myself, and afterwards I walled up the room, so that the tomb of the victim should not be profaned. Your enemy never knew why I was so anxious to suppress the door. He thought I was afraid of ghosts. When the minister refused to bury a _pagan_ with religious services, and in sacred ground, he thought I obeyed his orders, and threw the poor body into the bottom of the lake; but whatever Pastor Mickelson may have said, it was the body of a saint. Whatever her worship may have been, the baroness loved God, did good, and respected the faith of others. She is in heaven, and prays for us now, and her soul is happy in beholding her son where he is, and such as he is.”

“Ah!” said Christian, “happiness does not belong, then, to this world, for I should have made her happy, and she is dead.”

He kissed the tomb with respect and fervor, and having reinclosed it behind the curtain and the panel of the wainscot, he went down with Stenson into the bear-room.

“I do not know,” the old man resumed, “how much trouble and delay there may be before your rights are acknowledged; but I hope you will empower me to restore the partition before this chamber. When you are master here, we can carry the tomb to the chapel in the new chateau.”

“Place my mother’s tomb by that of Baron Olaus!” cried Christian. “Oh no, never! Since Sweden refused her a plot of ground to cover her bones, after having refused her air and liberty, I will carry off these precious remains, and deposit them under a more clement sky. Whether rich or poor, I will procure enough to bear this relic with me to the shore of the Italian lake, where sleeps my second mother; she who fulfilled the last prayer of her who gave me birth, and who, although herself most unhappy, had at least a son to close her eyes.”

“Act with calmness and prudence,” replied Stenson, “or your rights will be denied. Some day you will be free to do as you choose; for the present, do not allow even your best friends, even the worthy M. Goefle, to know that your mother was a dissenter. He will argue your cause with more hope and confidence, believing that she was not so; and if you yourself are a dissenter, do not acknowledge it, or you will not be able to triumph over your enemies.”

“Alas!” said Christian, “are riches worth the trouble I must take to acquire them? can they repay me for practising dissimulation and repressing my just indignation, as I am urged and forced to do? I had nothing, Stenson, not even an obole, when I came here three days ago, but my heart was light, my mind was free! I felt no hatred to any human being, no one hated me, and now--”

“And now you will be less free and less happy, I know,” replied the sweet and austere old man, gravely; “but you will have power to comfort and console the poor and suffering. Think of that, and it will give you strength to struggle for your rights.”

“Well said, my dear Stenson!” cried M. Goefle, who had just risen, and who heard the last words of the pious old retainer. “Whoever meets as he ought the duties and responsibilities which life imposes, rivets chains upon his feet, and insures for himself many bitter hours. It remains to be seen whether the man who, in the glory of his youth and strength, finds himself confronted with a plain duty, and who turns away to escape from it, can still be happy in heedless indifference, and can venture to claim that he is contented with himself.”

“You are right, my friend,” said Christian; “do what you choose with me. I promise to be guided by your advice.”

“And then,” added M. Goefle, lowering his voice, “our sweet Margaret ought, I think, to be a sufficient compensation for enduring the life of a grand seigneur!”

It was decided by M. Goefle that Christian should leave Waldemora, where he could exert no authority until his inheritance should be secured to him by the decision of the special committee of the Diet, a mysterious, special, and privileged tribunal, which claimed the right of removing suits pending in ordinary courts, especially those in which the nobility were interested. It was necessary for Christian to accompany his lawyer to Stockholm, so as to demand and solicit a decision.

Before bidding farewell to Stollborg, both of them, however, went to the parsonage, where Christian, after thanking Minister Akerstrom respectfully and affectionately, appointed him guardian of his estates, in so far as it depended upon him, and in the very just anticipation that his choice would be ratified by the house of nobles. He had no opportunity of being alone with Margaret; and even if he could have spoken to her freely, he would not have wished to draw her into an engagement until he was sure that he would not become Christian Waldo again. But Margaret felt no doubt either of his intentions or his success, and returned to her retreat with her heart full of the blissful hopes of youth, and the faith of a first love.

Christian refused to go and breakfast at the new chateau with the major and his friends. They understood his repugnance, and dined with M. Goefle and the young baron in Stenson’s _gaard_. In the evening they were all invited to supper at the parsonage. Margaret was not to start until the next day. On the following day Christian also took his departure with M. Goefle, who amused himself by driving Loki, to the great satisfaction of Nils, who slept soundly during the whole journey, never waking up at all, except to eat.

After passing two weeks at Stockholm, where Christian conducted himself with great prudence, reserve, and dignity, M. Goefle, who was very impatient to return to Gevala, invited him to go there, while awaiting the decision of the supreme court, especially as there was every reason to believe that there would be a great deal of delay in the matter, since, in consequence of the death of the king, and succession of Prince Henry (now become Gustavus III.), the ruling powers were unusually busy and preoccupied. But Christian, foreseeing that he would be left in uncertainty for an indefinite period, did not feel willing to live at M. Goefle’s expense during all this time, and resolved to carry out his plan of taking a journey with Danneman Bœtsoi into the savage and frozen regions in the northern part of Norway. Equally unwilling to be a burden to the brave peasant, he accepted from M. Goefle a very moderate advance upon his inheritance, or upon his future labor; and, after embracing his friends at Waldemora and at Stollborg, he set off with Bœtsoi, once more leaving his dear Jean under the charge of Stenson.

[Footnote 7: _Hæst_, September; _Jul_, December.]

CONCLUSION.

CHRISTIAN had abundance of leisure to travel. In spite of all the precautions taken by his friends, and notwithstanding M. Goefle’s incessant exertions, the recognition of his rights was so vehemently opposed by the caps, the party to which the Baron de Lindenwald belonged, that a moment came when the active and courageous lawyer regarded the cause of his client as lost. The Russian ambassador, who at first had been favorable, turned against them, no one knew why, and Countess Elveda formed other projects of marriage for her niece. M. Goefle appealed in person to the young king; but Gustavus III., who even then was planning, with incredible prudence, the grand revolution of August, 1772, advised patience, without giving any intimation of the hopes which he himself had conceived. In fact the king, as yet, could do nothing.

After travelling with the danneman until the end of February, Christian received news from M. Goefle which decided him to continue alone his explorations in the regions of the north. M. Goefle, finding that Christian’s enemies were very powerful, feared, with reason, that they would seek opportunities of quarrelling with him, if he should appear in Stockholm. He knew how excitable Christian was, and he said to himself that, even if he should kill one or two of his opponents, he would stand a good chance of being killed by the third. There were too many persons whose interest it was to irritate him, and draw him into duels. M. Goefle took good care not to explain to Christian the real grounds of his opinion, but he urged him not to count upon a speedy success, and advised him to remain away.

At the same time he sent him an additional sum, which Christian resolved not to add to the amount of the debt which he had already incurred. In his uncertain position he joined a crew of fishermen, who were about sailing for the Luffoden Islands; and, in the beginning of April, he wrote to M. Goefle as follows:

“Here I am in a small, straggling village of Nordland, where it seems to me that I have entered the land of Canaan, although the chalet of Danneman Bœtsoi is a Louvre in comparison with my present lodging, and his kakebroe delicious cake by the side of the bread of pure wood in which I am now luxuriating. You will guess from this that I have been through a great deal of suffering, without referring to our fatigue and dangers. But, on the other hand, I have seen the most terrible spectacles of the universe, the most austere and sublime scenes of nature: sub-marine gulfs, into which ships and whales are drawn like autumn leaves in a current of wind; rivers which never freeze, in the midst of ice that never melts; waterfalls whose roaring can be heard leagues away; precipices upon whose verge the reindeer and the elk grow dizzy; snows harder than the marble of Paros; men as ugly as monkeys--angelic souls in unclean bodies, a hospitable people dwelling in unheard-of misery--a patient, gentle and pious people living in eternal conflict with nature, who appears to them under her most formidable and violent aspect. I have had no disappointments. Everything that I have seen has been more sublime, or more astonishing, than all that I had imagined.

“So, then, I am a fortunate traveller. Add that my health has withstood all hardships, and that my purse is so well filled that I am in condition to pay off my debt to you, and still have money of my own; lastly, that I have succeeded in studying the geological formation of a long chain of mountains, from which I bring back treasures--in the way of rare and precious specimens--that will make the illustrious Professor Stangstadius pine away with envy, and useful observations that ought to make me--if I take it into my head to aspire to the honor, and exert a little diplomacy to obtain it--Knight of the Polar Star.

“You will ask me how I have grown rich so fast. By enduring a great deal of fatigue; by running the risk, a thousand times, of being drowned or of breaking my neck; by skating along the verge of fearful chasms, on great skates which I have learned to use; by catching a great many fish in the Norwegian archipelago; by selling my cargo on the spot, and very cheap, to those who have a genius for trade; and, lastly, by exposing myself to the danger of being beaten to death by my comrades for my pains. However, they gave up this fancy when they found out that my arm was ready and my hand heavy.

“Now I am going to Bergen, where I must arrive before the thaw, unless I want to be shut up here for six weeks by whirlwinds and avalanches, which man is not strong enough to conquer.

“Do not be distressed, O best of men and of friends! if I lose my suit. I shall make out to be something, and since Margaret is poor (as long as I am _well-born_), I may win her yet. And then, am I not secure of your friendship? I only ask of Heaven to enable me to take care of my dear Stenson in his feeble old age, if he should lose his annuity, and be driven from his asylum at Stollborg.”

M. Goefle received several other letters of the same sort during the following summer and winter. The lawsuit made no progress; in fact there was no suit, in any proper sense of the word. The presumptive heirs carried on the war in the most fatal and insidious way, by interposing constant obstacles, preventing or delaying the decision of the committee.

Christian, in the meanwhile, was beginning to be satiated with danger, fatigue, and hard work. He did not acknowledge it to his friend, but the exuberance of his curiosity was satisfied. His heart, which had been awakened to a new life by hopes that would perhaps prove deceitful, often claimed the happiness of which he had caught a glimpse. His heroic resolutions, and the cheerful energy of his character, were fully equal to the requirements of his terrible life, as he called it, but in silence, in the secrecy of his soul, he was often unhappy. The time had come when the bird, according to Major Larrson’s expression, fatigued with flying through the vastness of space, was longing to find a milder sky, and a sure place to build his nest.

In spite of his intelligence and his activity, Christian was several times overtaken by poverty. The life of the traveller is a series of Godsends and losses, of unexpected successes, and desperate disasters. He earned enough to live upon from day to day, by selling game and fish, and by exchanging commodities transported over great distances with incredible courage and resolution. And yet the young baron, careless, confident, and generous as he was, had not been born a merchant, and his troubles and anxieties could not transform the aristocratic liberality of his character.

Unavoidable accidents, moreover, often defeated his wisest calculations; and one day, he found that his own life must be governed by the ideal of heroic desperation with which he had entertained Major Larrson on the mountain of Blaakdal. Like Gustavus Wasa, he became a workman in the mines, and, as with that hero of a romantic epopée, he was soon recognized as an extraordinary workman, not so much on account of the embroidered collar of his shirt, but rather from the authority of his language and his haughty expression.

Christian, at this time, was in the mines of Roraas, in the highest mountains of Norway, at about ten leagues from the Swedish frontier. He had been working like a common day-laborer for eight days, but with a skill and vigor that had procured him the respect of his companions, when he received a letter from M. Goefle to the following purport:

“All is lost. I have seen the king, and he is a charming man--but nothing more! I made known to him who you are: I laid all my proofs before him; I told him how you felt, and how useful you could be to a philosophical and courageous prince who wished to establish equality of rights in the nation. After listening to me with an attention and comprehending with a lucidity that I have never encountered in any judge, he replied:

“‘Unfortunately, Monsieur Advocate, it is a great task to do justice to the oppressed, and one beyond my strength. I should be crushed in attempting it, like my poor father, whom the nobility doomed to perish of weariness and grief.’

“Gustavus is feeble and good; he does not wish to die! We flattered ourselves in vain that he would smite the senate with heavy blows. Sweden is lost, and our suit also!

“Come back to me, Christian. I love and respect you. I have a little fortune, and no children. Say the word, and I will make you my partner. You speak Swedish captivatingly; you are eloquent. You shall study law, and be my successor. I await you.”