GIFT OF
Irving Lindhahr
TRANSLATORS
whose work is represented in this collection
of " CLASSIC MYSTERY and
DETECTIVE STORIES," many here
rendered into English for the first time
ARTHUR ARRIVET Japanese
JOHN P. BROWN Turkish
United States Legation, Constantinople
JONATHAN STURGES French
SIR RICHARD FRANCIS BURTON Arabic
LADY ISABEL BURTON Arabic
GRACE I. COLBRON .... German-Scandinavian
FREDERICK TABER COOPER, PH.D. Romance Languages
GEORGE F. DUYSTERS Spanish
HERBERT A. GILES Chinese
British Consular Service
GIANVILL GILL French
D. F. HANNIGAN, LL.B French
Louis HOFFMANN French
FLORENCE IRWIN . . . <-. French
CHARLES JOHNSTON Russian-Oriental
Royal Asiatic Society, Indian Civil Service
EUGENE LUCAS Hungarian
R. SHELTON MACKENZIE French
ELLEN MARRIAGE French
JOHN A. PIERCE French
W. R. S. RALSTON, M.A Tibetan
EDWARD REHATSEK Persian
Royal Asiatic Society, Examiner Bombay University
GEORGE RAWLINSON, M.A. (OxoN.) .... Greek
MARY J. S AFFORD French
FRANZ ANTON VON SCHIEFNER Tibetan
Librarian, St. Petersburg Academy of Sciences
CHARLES HENRY TAWNEY, M.A., C.I.E. . . . Hindoo
Librarian, India Office
R. WHITTLING, M.A. (OXON.) French
EDWARD ZIEGLER , . . . German
"Pointed in Wild Frenzy to the One Sitting Above"
Drawing by Power O'Malley. To illustrate
"The Man on the Bottle," by Gustave Meyrink
THE
LOCK AND KEY
LIBRARY
CLASSIC MYSTERY AND
DETECTIVE STORIES
EDITED BY
JULIAN HAWTHORNE
Friedrich Spiel hagen Gustav Meyrink
Dietrich Theden
Paul Heyse Wilhelm Hauff
Ernest Theodor Amadeus Hoffman
Karl Rosner August Groner
NEW YORK
THE REVIEW OF REVIEWS CO.
1909
Copyright, 1909, by
THE REVIEW OF REVIEWS COMPANY
z /" i/ v Vi ^ $ "' '* : ' ?< *r H** ^ ^'"'' -
THE QUINN & BODEN CO. PKESS
RAHWAY, N. J.
Table of Contents
PART I
PAGB
FRIEDRICH SPIELHAGEN
The Skeleton in the House ..... * .' . II
PART II
GUSTAV MEYRINK
The Man in the Bottle
DIETRICH THEDEN
Christian Lahusen's Baron . . . . . . . 16
PAUL HEYSE
Andrea Delfin . . . . . . > . . .* . 37
WILHELM HAUFF
The Singer ............ 83
ERNEST THEODOR AMADEUS HOFFMAN
The Deserted House ->/ . . .v ; . . O 131
KARL ROSNER
The Versegy Case .......... 157
AUGUST GRONER
The Story in the Notebook ........ 212
DIETRICH THEDEN
Well- Woven Evidence ......... 252
M 1517
PART I
Friedrich Spielhagen
The Skeleton in the House
Friedrich Spielhagen
The Skeleton in the House
I
" A ND this is our sleeping-room," said Lebrecht, opening
" the door. " How do you like it? "
" Charming ! " replied Annchen.
She had paused a moment on the threshold and allowed
her eyes to wander around the apartment, then with a few
rapid steps reached the fireplace and threw herself into an
armchair.
" Oh, dear ! how tired I am."
Lebrecht bit his lip, and his handsome face, that had just
been smiling so expectantly, darkened. Annchen could not
see it, for she had put her feet on the brass fender and
leaned her head back on the cushions ; but as he now passed
her for the second time, stepping lightly in spite of the thick
Brussels carpet, she put out her hand and said beseechingly :
" Don't be angry with me, Lebrecht ! "
He had caught the slender hand and raised it to his lips.
" Why should I be angry with you ? " he murmured very
indistinctly, for his heart was throbbing so that it almost
choked him. If she held his hand, if a loving glance flashed
from her eyes, if her lips parted to kiss him, then he would
tell her.
But the brown eyes remained weary ; the charming, half-
parted lips did not move; the hand fell carelessly from his
into her lap. His knees, which had already bent, grew stiff
again; he turned away, and only with the utmost effort
repressed the sigh in which his tortured heart sought relief.
So the story was again deferred until the morrow, as it
had been every evening during the six weeks of their
wedding-tour. But this evening, the first at home, was not
exactly like the others. There was really no morrow to it ;
he had staked the remnant of his courage, his final hope, on
it, as the gambler risks the remnant of his property on a
II
German Mystery Stories
last card. He must tell to-morrow of course, but that he
would tje .compelled to do so was the most terrible thing of
\2fll [3& : would then no longer be a confession simply a
'disclosure,, which by no silence, no deception, no miserable
'.* * * : 'pi Cteijse' xould he delay longer, and he would stand like a
criminal who, after obstinate, hardened denials, is at last
convicted and cannot even make the slightest claim to ex-
tenuating circumstances can offer no reason why the judge
should not contemptuously turn away his angry face from
the shameless fellow.
And this angry judge would be his young, beautiful,
worshipped wife, who trusted him so wholly, so entirely,
who only yesterday morning Oh ! how was it possible
that when she hid her blushing face on his shoulder and
said, amid smiles and tears : " Only your dear, faithful eyes ;
I want nothing more," he could have laughed, kissed her
again and again, and not told her?
He had approached the window, drawn back the heavy
curtains, and was gazing into the gloom of the autumn
evening, while the strong breath of the sea blew through the
ancient trees, till the branches creaked and groaned and the
withered leaves dashed rustling against the panes.
He was thinking of that wretched evening late in the
summer and the mad rush through the room to this very
window.
He had thrown it open, scarcely knowing that he did so,
eagerly inhaling the cold, damp air that blew into his face
and cooled his burning brow.
" There is a terrible draught, my dear Lebrecht," said
Annchen from the fireside.
" I beg your pardon."
He shut the window, let the curtains fall, and came back
into the room. His wife had not changed her position;
this utter listlessness of one usually so elastic, gay, vivacious,
and full of prattle from morning till night vexed him in his
despairing mood.
" You are tired, Annchen," he said dryly ; " you ought to
go to bed."
12
Friedrich Spielhagen
" I'm not at all tired," she answered, " only a little lazy.
I think it's the long drive and the keen wind that constantly
blew into our faces."
" I couldn't help the latter, Annchen. We are in Pom-
erania and by the sea, which has nothing in common with
your mild Rhine breezes; and as for the drive, I was very
sorry afterwards. I meant well; you ought at least to
acknowledge that."
Annchen sat erect in her armchair. This was the first
time she had heard a tone so cold, nay, even harsh, from
her Lebrecht's lips. She gazed at him with more astonish-
ment than fear.
" Pardon me," he said, " I meant no reproach ; the words
escaped me. I don't know what it is; I believe I'm tired
myself nervous."
" We'll rest awhile," said Annchen. " Let me stay here
in the chair it's delightfully comfortable and do you lie
on the couch yonder. Then we'll have a nice supper; to
judge from the fire Frau Uelzen has made in the kitchen,
there must be a brilliant result."
" I'm only afraid you will be kept waiting some time,"
said Lebrecht ; " you know she expected us two hours
later."
" I'm in no hurry ; on the contrary," replied Annchen,
" I'm really too worn out to be able to eat now. I'll ask
for a cup of coffee first; that will revive me more quickly.
The whole house was scented with freshly-roasted coffee;
I believe I can smell it here."
Lebrecht, who had stretched himself on the couch, started
up with a bound.
" Good Heavens ! what's the matter, Lebrecht ? "
" Matter ! Nothing ! I only wanted to go and tell Frau
Uelzen."
The young wife had also hastily risen. " Good heavens ! "
she exclaimed again, " how pale you are. You are certainly
not well. Tell me ! "
She laid her hand on his forehead ; it was cold and damp.
He pushed the hand away almost angrily.
13
German Mystery Stories
" You are really ill, Lebrecht ? Sha'n't we send for your
friend?"
" That's just what was wanting," cried Lebrecht with
a forced smile. " He makes short work of imaginary in-
valids. Besides, he'll probably come this evening at any
rate, though I would rather he did not."
"Why?"
" I thought it would be pleasanter for us to remain the
first evening undisturbed. You know that was one reason
why we didn't take the express train."
" But, as you remember, against my will, and I believe
I was right. I think it would have been pleasanter if your
friends and the gentlemen had received us."
" I have no friend except Bertram ; and as for the gentle-
men, they can pay their respects to-morrow."
'That isn't it, Lebrecht; it's only "
" That you feel solitary, alone with me in the dreary old
house."
Annchen flushed to her temples. " For shame, Lebrecht ! "
" And yet it's true, Annchen ! "
" And I say again, * For shame ! ' "
It had become an actual dispute a real quarrel, at least
in Frau Uelzen's ears ; and if these ears did not hear aright,
it certainly was not the fault of their owner, who had already
been standing before the door for some minutes in so un-
comfortable an attitude that her back was beginning to ache.
Therefore, and also because the quarrel seemed to be over
and there was nothing more to be heard, she straightened
her little fat figure again and knocked.
It was the master who instantly opened the door, and so
suddenly that Frau Uelzen received a hard bump, and could
not help rubbing her elbow while she told him that the Herr
Doctor had just called and was in his room.
Annchen had also appeared in the half -open doorway.
" I should like to send him away again," said Lebrecht,
hesitatingly.
" On no account," cried Annchen. " I'll come, too ; I'll
only change my dress a little."
14
Friedrich Spielhagen
"If he's to stay all the evening, you needn't hurry."
" So much the better, dear Lebrecht."
She wanted to throw her arms around her husband's neck,
but the inquisitive eyes in Frau Uelzen's fat face embar-
rassed her; so she only put her finger on her lips. " Au
revoir, then. Give my compliments to your friend, and
don't forget to tell Frau Uelzen about the coffee."
" No, no ! " said Lebrecht, pushing Frau Uelzen out of the
room and, without having once looked back, shutting the
door so violently behind him that Annchen, with a rapid
movement, had barely time to draw the hem of her dress
out of the crack.
" He's angry with me," she murmured, " and I have de-
served it. When he goes down and meets the horrible man
he calls his only friend in what a tone he said it, ' My only
friend.' And now he's sitting with him pouring out his heart,
and telling him he has a little, unreasonable, foolish wife,
and that he " (tears gushed from her eyes ; she threw herself
into the armchair again, covering her face with her hands
and sobbing) " is not happy that I have made him un-
happy! No, no! not unhappy, but not so happy as he
deserves to be, as I have hoped, dreamed, I should make
him I, who love him so dearly ! "
She had suddenly stretched out both arms as if she wanted
to embrace her beloved husband. The arms fell on her lap ;
she sat gazing before her with fixed eyes into the dying fire.
And as the little blue flames leaped busily up and down
the fading coals, so before her mental vision picture after
picture, scene after scene, came and went the thousand
pictures, the thousand scenes of her short love-life, which
had bloomed so brightly, so blissfully, shone with such a
radiant light, and was now sinking into ashes.
There was the steamer's deck, on which he paced to and
fro alone, with the red book under his arm, gazing with
thoughtful blue eyes at the vineyards and castles. She had
noticed the tall, fair man long before her friends began to
jest about the " stiff Englishman," while Cousin Arthur
twisted his black moustache and swayed to and fro, as if to
15
German Mystery Stories
say: "Thank Heaven! I'm not like that stupid fellow."
Cousin Arthur had made a very wry face when papa brought
up the stranger, whom in his good-nature he had accosted,
and introduced him to the ladies as Herr Lebrecht Nudel,
a merchant from Woldom. " Lebrecht Nudel " was a most
charming name, Cousin Arthur said, and " who can tell me
where Woldom is ? "
A few days later Cousin Arthur knew very well where
Woldom was, and in the interim had had plenty of time to
become accustomed to the name that had at first appeared
so comical, for it was mentioned often enough in the beauti-
ful, hospitable home of Annchen's parents, through whose
door Herr Nudel, who was obliged to stay a few days in
Cologne, went in and out.
The few days had grown into a fortnight, and Herr
Nudel's business matters were prolonged into the third
week; and poor Arthur he wanted to shoot himself, and
would have done so, " 'pon honor," only that he would then
have lost the pleasure of dancing at her wedding and show-
ing her that in his veins flowed the true, noble blood of the
Klungel-Piitz, and not a base stream which had blended
with the mouldy Schmitz current till it was unrecognizable,
like that in his cousin's. Mamma had been on his side ; she
would have so willingly made the bare Klungel-Piitz family-
tree put forth new blossoms with the Schmitz gold ; but dear
papa, in his quiet, easy fashion, had stood faithfully by his
beloved little daughter. Arthur ought to be glad to get a
cousin who might occasionally take up an inconvenient note
and afterwards, if he desired, use it for a lamp-lighter. In
spite of the Klungel-Piitz relationship and his own rank
among the patrician families of Cologne, he was a simple,
commonplace man, who had just money enough to duly
estimate the value of money. Nay, he confessed to being so
base-minded that his son-in-law's two millions really im-
pressed him, and if Annchen loved the man well, Heaven
knows how gladly he would have kept her near him, but
Woldom was also, so to speak, in the world. He hoped,
reluctant as he was to travel, to convince himself of it in
16
Friedrich Spielhagen
his own person, and drink the young couple's health in
genuine Rhine wine on the shore of the Baltic out of the
bowl of the King of Prussia sent to the King of Woldom.
To the King of Woldom !
A banker in Berlin of whom he had privately inquired
about the property of the " produce-dealer " had not only
confirmed the similar statements of the London and Ham-
burg firms to whom Lebrecht had referred him, but added :
" I even think the man much richer; he is, in truth, what our
late witty king called his father. Let him tell you the story
himself, as a clever physician from Woldom, whose acquaint-
ance I made last summer in Heringsdorf, told it to
me."
And Lebrecht related it with downcast eyes, as if he were
ashamed, and an unsteady voice, like a person who has to
confess a crime.
And yet it was the most harmless anecdote in the world :
how the late king, who was so fond of being in Pomerania
and Rtigen, al-so visited Woldom and graciously accepted
the lodgings offered him in the old gable-roofed house on the
market-place. And as next morning he permitted his host
to show him the modest sights of the city, and his father,
in reply to the constant questions of the eager monarch:
" Who built this quay ? To whom do these warehouses
belong? Who owns these ships ? Who laid out this prom-
enade? Who built this poorhouse?" etc., in accordance
with the truth could only reply : " I, your majesty. To me,
your majesty," until the king, who had become very thought-
ful, suddenly stood still and exclaimed : " Why, really, this
is exactly like that charming story of Hebel's, ' Kannitver-
stan,' only that there is no misunderstanding, but the truth."
And then, turning to his suite and pointing to Herr Nudel :
" I tell you, gentlemen, if I were not unfortunately the King
of Prussia I should like to be the King of Woldom/'
And on the magnificent bowl of embossed silver which
came from Berlin six months after, the coat-of-arms of the
city of Woldom glittered beside the royal arms of Prussia,
and below the interlaced initials of the royal name and his
17
German Mystery Stories
father's stood in gold letters : " From the grateful King of
Prussia to his colleague of Woldom."
How often Lebrecht had been obliged to relate the story,
and how heartily her papa had laughed every time and her
proud mother smiled. And she herself she had only gazed
at her Lebrecht's face, now a thousand times dearer in its
touching embarrassment, and said to herself : " He is a king
I his queen ! Oh ! how happy we shall be."
" We shall be ! " They were not yet entirely so, at least
Lebrecht was not, and how could she be if he were not?
He did not feel at ease in her home. Of course he stood
on excellent terms with papa ; that was natural ; who could
help being fond of the kind old papa, who wished everybody
well, and certainly the future husband of his beloved only
child? Mamma did not mean any harm of course not
but it was undoubtedly a hard, hard task for Lebrecht, who
was so averse to all ostentation, to see himself constantly
engaged in conversations that always had the same object
the glorification of the race of Kliingel-Putz ; how brilliant
it had once been, with its fifty castles on the Rhine ; how it
was related to the Sickingens and other families of the
highest nobility, and had even been allied to the imperial
house of Hapsburg; and how the splendor had gradually
paled like the setting sun, until oh, cruel fate ! a Kliingel-
Piitz, she herself, married a plebeian, and the daughter of
this marriage, according to those iron laws that rule over the
rise and fall of great families, was again wedding a plebeian.
And if Lebrecht could not get along with mamma, neither
could he acquire a taste for the gay bustle in the house.
The constant coming and going of so many people disturbed
him. He didn't say so, but it was not necessary ; she saw it
distinctly in an occasional sad, almost angry glance which,
when he thought himself unobserved, wandered over the
motley throng officers with clanking spurs and rattling
sabers ; at their head the slender Arthur, who took his part
of rejected lover now on the tragic and now on the comic
side, and made himself as insufferable in the one as in the
other ; dandified, smooth-talking referendaries and assessors,
18
FriedricH Spielhagen
who were almost all reserve-officers, and carried on a secret
or open jealous warfare with their comrades of the line,
whose cause she she herself had been for several years
of her young life.
She could not, would not, deny this when Lebrecht inti-
mated it, nor that these years had been pleasant ones ; that
she had rejoiced in her triumphs with all her heart ; that she
had firmly believed in the beatific power of sails on the
Rhine and Moselle, officers' and jurists' balls, till she saw
him, the blond Englishman, the Pomeranian produce-dealer,
the King of Woldom. And now away with that cloud from
your dear brow, my beloved royal master! It isn't at all
becoming to you, and moreover, is a culpable doubt of my
love, or must I doubt yours?
Ah! she had not doubted his love, not for a second, and
yet the cloud she believed she had kissed away the first
time for ever returned again and again, and grown darker
and darker, as the covering of ashes yonder fell thicker on
the dying coals. And she had noticed on their wedding-
journey that this darkness increased in proportion as they
approached his home nay, she afterward remembered ex-
actly how on the day they left the Lake of Como, to return
by Venice, Vienna, Prague, and Dresden, a turning-point
began in his mood. She had pondered and pondered over
what it could be, what was passing in his mind when he sat
for minutes nay, afterward for hours at the theaters and
on the endless railway journeys, gazing into vacancy in a
sort of stupor, and then suddenly invariably after a stolen
glance at her, who had silently watched him renewed the
interrupted conversation or commenced a new one. Were
there business cares ? He had assured her it was nothing of
the sort. Did he feel sick? He had never been better.
Did he no longer love her? He closed her mouth with
passionate kisses. Was he not happy ?
At last no other question remained, and precisely because
there was no other, his assurance that he was happy nay, that
he could scarcely realize the excess of happiness with which
her love overwhelmed him could not soothe her ; for now it
19
German Mystery Stories
was no longer the too lively social atmosphere of her parents'
house that had so oppressed him ; now he no longer had to
endure her mamma's long-winded lectures about the splendor
and decay of her family ; this and everything else that had
been so uncomfortable to the betrothed bridegroom lay
behind them forever; he had her, her alone, among all the
thousands of indifferent persons who crowded past them
alone as if they were on Robinson Crusoe's island.
Was it not to deceive her about the real cause of his
trouble when he said with a melancholy smile : " I will
believe that you could be happy with me on a Robinson
Crusoe island, as I certainly should be with you; but in
Woldom in Woldom, the little, gloomy city on the shore
of the gray Baltic Sea in Woldom, where theaters are a
fiction and concerts a legend, where one can have no em-
barrassment in the choice of society, because there is simply
no society at all there might often be difficulties in the way
of happiness might be very many days in which you would
say : * You don't please me.' '''
In vain she answered, at first eagerly, then almost with
secret anger and ill-repressed tears :
" Granted that it is all as you say, but do I hear this for
the first time? Didn't you say the same things when I did
not know that you loved me ? No ! I knew that from the
first moment; and you knew that I loved you and would
follow you to the ends of the earth, let alone to your home,
which you describe so dismally. I quietly allowed you to
talk and only asked : ' Do you like it ? ' You replied : ' I
think it more beautiful almost everywhere else, which, to be
sure, does not require much, and yet I believe I could live
nowhere else.' And then I said : ' Neither can I.' And
what I said then I say still ; and you you must believe me
till I have given you proofs of the contrary. Until then,
if you love me, not a word more about it."
He had not returned to the disagreeable subject during the
past week. This morning in Berlin he had first reverted
to it again.
They had originally intended to travel on the afternoon
20
Friedrich Spielhagen
express train, that reached Woldom at ten o'clock in the
evening, and he had already telegraphed home so the evening
before. Then he had changed his arrangements singularly,
as he usually clung to his resolutions, which he only formed
after mature consideration, with a certain degree of ob-
stinacy. This time it was different. It had occurred to
him too late, that if they should arrive at the appointed hour
certain formalities of reception could not be escaped,
although the clerks in the counting-house knew, or might
know, what a declared enemy he was of all such nonsense.
Speeches would be made which he should have to answer;
there would be an hour's confusion, very probably a noisy
evening, and he longed for rest. He could they could
procure this rest by a very simple expedient : they need only,
instead of taking the afternoon express train, use the morn-
ing one. To be sure, it was an accommodation train, and
stopped at every station, but they would still reach home a
few hours earlier.
She had acquiesced not that the plan pleased her ; on the
contrary, she thought it perfectly proper that the clerks
should give their employer a formal reception after he had
been absent from home six weeks, and was now returning
with his young wife. She had no dislike for the " fuss,"
and if it was a little gay, or even noisy, so much the better.
But after a few timid, useless objections she had wisely
kept silence, and hastily packed her things in the morning.
So they had set out early, gladly as she would have slept
an hour longer. The last days of travel had been very
fatiguing, and she felt for the first time really exhausted.
Yet she had allowed nothing to be noticed, had not even
tried to sleep during the journey, though, to be sure, several
times she could not wholly repress a slight yawn. But the
more trouble she took to make the best of everything, the
more dissatisfied and impatient Lebrecht was. The affair
was worse than he supposed ; the slow motion, the constant
stopping it was insufferable. He walked up and down
the coupe as usual, they traveled first class, and were alone
shut the windows, opened them again, grumbled at the
21
German Mystery Stories
conductor, scolded the guard, and spoke so angrily to a
gentleman, who at a station came to the window, and, judg-
ing from his mode of address, was a resident of Woldom,
and even a business acquaintance, that the man seemed
utterly bewildered, and she herself was really alarmed by the
violence of one usually so quiet and composed.
To be sure, he instantly apologized, and she heard him,
opening the window, tell the man that they would discuss
the matter further in Biissow.
Then the walking up and down the coupe began again,
and suddenly stopping, he said : " Biissow is the station from
which the branch railway goes to Woldom. We shall be
obliged to wait there an hour for the train from Lundin.
It's a horrible delay, and I shall be helplessly delivered over
to that detestable talker. I'll make you a proposal. From
the next station the old highway leads to Woldom. The
distance is four or five miles. It is now two o'clock; and
if we take a carriage there we can be in Woldom almost as
soon as this hateful train. We'll leave our baggage behind
and be our own masters. I've walked, ridden, and driven
over the road hundreds of times as a boy and young man,
when there was no railway here. It is not beautiful, nothing
is in this country; but to me every poplar with which it is
planted represents a pleasant memory. And you can take
the drive as a trial whether my descriptions of the country
and people agree with truth or not. Will you?"
Of course she had consented.
It was a hard test, and she had more than once been forced
to confess that Lebrecht had exaggerated nothing. True,
she had not seen much of the people, but all the more of the
country endless brown moors and gray fields, over which
swept a damp, cold wind, wet and cold and raw, such as in
her beautiful Rhenish home a December wind scarcely was,
and they were in the latter part of October. From time to
time on these dreary plains appeared a solitary farmhouse,
surrounded by trees and bushes, a mill on the top of one of
the rare low hills, at a greater or less distance dark patches
of woodlands. She tried to persuade herself that all this
22
Friedrich Spielhagen
must look very pretty in summer, when the meadows were
green, the heaths bloomed, the boundless fields swayed with
golden waves, and the larks soared trilling upward to a
blue sky studded with large white clouds; but the gray,
rainy reality ruthlessly expunged the bright visions of fancy ;
for now it had begun to rain, and in the little two-seated,
open carriage Lebrecht had called it a Holstein they were
fully exposed to the weather.
She would have cheerfully endured all this, and even a
great deal more although to-day, with her physical exhaus-
tion, the fatigue and discomfort were really harder to bear
than usual if Lebrecht had been more cheerful, if on his
native soil he had at least regained the calm, self-possessed
manner that had so charmed her, and in her young eyes
made the fair, tall North-German seem like a king among
the vivacious throng of her courtiers. But this was unfor-
tunately by no means the case. As he had just declared
the annoyances of the railway unendurable, he now quar-
reled with the situation he had himself caused, as if other
people's imprudence or obstinacy had forced it upon him.
With his traveling-cap drawn far over his brow, and the
collar of his overcoat turned up, he sat leaning back in his
corner, like a person who at least will not waste a word upon
a disappointment he cannot change. And this silence made
her far more uneasy than his previous violence. At last
she, too, no longer ventured to speak, and now had abundant
time to listen to the rattling of the leather on the carriage,
the creaking of the axles, the grating of the wheels, the
clattering of the horses' hoofs, the long-drawn notes of the
wind that roared over the wet fields and bent the sighing
poplars aside. Oh, those sighing poplars! If each really
brought some youthful memory to Lebrecht, as he had said,
how sorrowful that youth must have been! She wrapped
a handkerchief around her head to hear the terrible sighing
somewhat less distinctly, and closed her eyes for fifteen
minutes together, in order to no longer see the ghostly
nodding of the tree-tops.
Soon she did not need the latter precaution; the heavy
23
German Mystery Stories
masses of clouds grew darker and more threatening, and
seemed to have sunk lower every time she looked up at
them again; evening closed in and became night, though it
could be little more than seven o'clock. No friendly star
in the sky, no cheering light on the earth ; only once a faint
glimmer appeared at one side of the road to instantly vanish
again, and the coachman said : " Gallows Hill ! " They were
the first words the man, who sat leaning forward over his
horses, had spoken during the whole drive.
She pondered over what he meant. Did the ominous
place have any special association for him, as the sighing
poplars had for Lebrecht? Did a gallows really still tower
yonder into the black night ? Was it a hellish fire glimmer-
ing there, or the lamplight from the sitting-room of a peace-
ful mill? Had the silent man only meant that the drive
was approaching an end and other lights would soon emerge
from the gloom ?
Thank God! there were really other lights two, three,
four a whole row, the lights of the railway station,
Lebrecht said; then another bit of highroad without pop-
lars; then on the right and left low, square houses with
dimly-lighted windows amid large, dark masses barns be-
longing to the farmers in the suburbs ; a gateway at whose
entrance and exit a lantern suspended by chains was swayed
by the wind ; somewhat better lighted, broader streets, with,
as it seemed, handsome houses ; finally a small, square, open
space, with the harbor on one side. She heard through the
howling of the wind the roar of the sea, and saw, though
indistinctly, against the now lighter sky, tall, swaying masts.
And now several buildings appeared before her, towering
like castles from amid their lowly surroundings. On the
left was the lofty, gable-roofed Rathhaus; on the right,
divided from it only by a narrow street, a still higher house
his house, which was now to be hers also the house he
had so often described to her, and which now, as, still sitting
in the carriage, she cast a timid glance at it by the dim
glimmer of the lanterns scattered here and there about the
market-place and the lights flickering from the windows,
24
Friedrich Spielhagen
towered into the black night-heavens, a mute, dark, stony
secret.
And now the huge door was slowly opened. Old Bal-
thazar she knew his name long before stood there, and
instantly vanished again as the wind extinguished the light
behind the bony hand. She would have liked to laugh it
was just as if the old man had only wanted to show his
huge, copper-red nose but she could not. There was the
threshold which, in imagination, she had already so often
crossed, leaning on the arm of her beloved Lebrecht, and
" Go in ! " impatiently cried Lebrecht, who was paying the
driver. He had undoubtedly meant kindly, and yet the
words sounded unpleasantly in her spoiled ears. True, he
had been at her side again ere she had taken many steps in
the wide lower hall, where Frau Uelzen, with many courtesies
and exclamations of surprise at the unexpected arrival of
her employers, was already welcoming her. And, leaning
on his arm, she had ascended the broad oak staircase which,
commencing in the center of the lower hall, led, with several
landings and queer, low steps, between colossal black ban-
isters, to a wide gallery which, like the staircase, was bor-
dered with huge, black rails, and on which all the rooms in
the second story appeared to open.
And, leaning on his arm, she had walked through the
rooms, preceded by Frau Uelzen with the lamp, while Bal-
thazar behind then lighted the candles on the tables and
consoles.
And, because it constantly grew light behind them, she
had felt as if she were walking through a labyrinth in which
she could never find her way, and then Lebrecht had opened
the last door and said, " This is our sleeping-room ; " and
then
The magnificent clock on the chimney-piece struck eight
in low, silvery tones. Annchen started up, like a person
suddenly aroused from a long sleep in which he has dreamed
infinite things infinite things, through whose confusion he
sought only one, which he could not find.
No, she had not slept, and they were no dreams that had
25
German Mystery Stories
darted through her head and heart in strange, wild haste,
while she sat gazing at the tiny blue flames quivering over
the coals fading into ashes ; it was her whole, short love-life
which she had lived over again within a few minutes, em-
braced in a single glance, as the traveler beholds a wide
landscape with all its countless details, while he still looks
only at the cloud just rising above the horizon, and which
the anxious guide has said, ere the near goal can be reached,
will overspread the whole, beautiful, laughing world with a
gray veil and efface it with floods of rain.
The anxious guide her throbbing, reproachful heart!
She had ill sustained the test!
When had she ever allowed bad weather to rob her of her
gay spirits? How was it the afternoon they were surprised
by a storm on the Lowenburg, during an excursion to the
Liebengebirge, and then also in a pouring rain, and finally
in total darkness, and, moreover, on foot, obliged to retrace
the long road to Konigswinter ? But, to be sure, she had
leaned on his arm, and every obstacle they were forced to
conquer on their way had only been one cause the more for
jest and laughter and happiness. If to-day he sat by her
side silent and ill-humored, ought she not to have soothed
him by redoubled cheerfulness, she who could be so gay,
whom he so liked to see bright and mirthful? Had he not,
perhaps, only waited for that ? Had he not taken her weary
silence for a proof that his fears were being fulfilled, and
she found his beloved Pomerania detestable? And when
they entered the house, when she passed through the rooms
yes, he had hurried very much, but why had she permitted
it, why not insisted on being allowed to admire the princely
magnificence with which everything was fitted up? And
when they finally entered this apartment, which seemed to
be no room at all, but a huge tent hung and furnished with
blue and silver, so elegant, so rich, and yet so cozy and com-
fortable as she had imagined and in a mirthful moment
chanced to describe to him in a few jesting words ; he, dear
fellow, had remembered, understood, known how to make
everything a thousand times more beautiful and she, had
26
Friedrich Spielhagen
she thrown herself into his arms? Had she thanked him
for his solicitude, his kindness, his love ? Had she said : " I
will make your dark house as bright by my love as a dew-
drop in the morning sunlight, and kiss the clouds from your
brow, you dear, foolish fellow; I'll make you as happy as
I am myself? "
Alas ! she had said nothing, nothing of all this. She had
thrown herself into the chair, and by her silly conduct, for
the first time since she had known him, extorted a harsh
word from her kind husband ; and when he left her just now
the cloud on his brow was darker than it had ever been
before the cloud that did not rest there to-day for the first
time, so it was not caused by her behavior the fatal cloud
that had already shadowed it for weeks, and consequently
must have some deeper source, and could only rise from the
one thought : " I have been mistaken in you ; you are not
the woman who can make me happy ! "
And as all her reflecting led her this time to precisely the
same sorrowful conclusion which her meditations always
reached, poor Annchen, like a child that no longer sees any
escape from the pursuing danger, burst into loud sobs, bend-
ing forward and covering her face with her hands, while the
tears trickled through her slender fingers.
Thus she could not see the fat housekeeper, who, after
tapping gently very gently without waiting for a " Come
in," had opened the door a little a very little and for half
a minute peered through the crack, then cautiously shut it,
knocked loudly as if it were the first time, and entered, an
officious smile on her thick lips, bringing on a waiter the cup
of coffee her mistress had just ordered.
II
ANNCHEN had started up in terror, and tried as well as she
could to conceal her tears. It seemed impossible that Frau
Uelzen should have noticed nothing, though the latter by
no means acted as if she had, but, drawing up a small marble
27
German Mystery Stories
table and setting the coffee on it, begged her mistress to
pardon the long delay and excuse her if she did not serve as
skilfully as the maid whom the Herr Commerzienrath and
Frau Commerzienrathen would probably bring in a week.
" I don't know whether my parents will make their prom-
ised visit so soon," said Annchen.
" My master thought so," replied Frau Uelzen, " and I
think they certainly will. The parents long for their little
daughter, and the little daughter for her dear parents. They
have never been separated in their lives and suddenly are
forced to part, but it is very painful. I've lived with a
great many couples who were just married and loved each
other like turtle doves. Dear me! Only people can't live
on love alone, so to speak, but require many other things;
and before all are found months and years elapse, and often-
times they don't find them at all."
Lebrecht had taken care that Annchen did not enter the
house with too high an opinion of Frau Uelzen. He had
called her a person who, though useful enough in her way,
had many weaknesses, among which, in his eyes, or rather
his ears, an unconquerable loquacity was the worst. And
her cautious mamma, during the last few days before her
marriage, had repeatedly warned her to be on good terms
with the influential person who had already taken charge
of the housekeeping ten years, at least at first, until she
herself should feel " firm ground under her feet."
But Annchen was now thinking of anything rather than
these warnings and precautions. What the stout old lady
yonder, with her fat hands folded over her stomach, was
saying in her comfortable, slow fashion, in that delicious
dialect which she had first heard from Lebrecht, and which,
therefore, was so dear to her, was certainly all true. So,
too, a voice from her oppressed soul had spoken.
" Don't find them at all ! " she repeated.
Frau Uelzen had already feared she might have gone a
little too far at first. Now, since her words had evidently
found so good a reception in her young mistress's heart, she
continued calmly:
28
Friedrich Spielhagen
" Yes, indeed, not at all ; though one must never allow it,
and always put the best face on everything, and thus inspire
a poor young lady with courage, as I always did young Frau
von Nulzow, before whose marriage I kept house six months
alone for the young baron, who was a kind master, though
he had his peculiarities, like all of us, and often drank a
bottle more than was good for him. Well, if that were a
reason for a young wife to be unhappy there wouldn't be
many happy ones, at least not in our country ; and my young
mistress was unhappy from the depths of her heart, and
remained so, no matter what I might say, and one morning
we found her in the pond at the end of the park, but she
had been dead several hours."
" Merciful Heavens ! " cried Annchen. " And was it
never discovered why she took her life ? "
" Never exactly," replied Frau Uelzen, shaking her head.
" Some say she had had a lover before, a lieutenant, who
remained in Bohemia, and whom she would gladly have
married, only her parents wouldn't consent, and she was
forced to marry my master, and the other that was the
lieutenant shot himself. But that's mere gossip ; she never
told me anything about it, and she would surely have done
so if there had been anything of the sort ; for she was very
well satisfied with me, and always said, ' As you choose,
Frau Uelzen ;' or, ' Do it just as you please, Frau Uelzen/
And what can so young a lady do better than trust to a
sensible old person who understands housekeeping and never
wants anything for her own good, only for her employers'?
For there's no dependence upon servants, especially here in
Woldom, where the devil of emigration gets into their heads
because one or another has made a fortune in America.
And then people say it's my fault that nobody stays with us
long; but you'll soon be convinced that I'm not to blame
for it."
Annchen, while slowly sipping the excellent coffee, had
been thinking of the unfortunate young wife who had
drowned herself, nobody knew why, and had no idea how
Frau Uelzen from this tragical incident had reached the
29
German Mystery Stories
servant question ; but she did not wish to let her inattention
be noticed, and therefore said haphazard : " Why should it
be your fault ? "
"Isn't that so?" asked Frau Uelzen eagerly. "Why
should it be my fault ? I can't help it that the house is older
than the Sweden wall before the Lundin gate and that people
say: 'If all the persons born in this house were still alive,
everybody else would have to leave the city.' Well, if a
young thing who comes into the house gets frightened and
wants to go away again in six weeks, after all it's perfectly
natural; for to hear old Balthazar, who lived thirty years
with the late Herr Senator, and has already been five with
the young master, talk about all he has heard and seen
one wouldn't believe it till one heard him tell it ; how, when
there's nobody in the room, you can hear breathing, as if
somebody were sleeping close beside you in the bed. I've
heard that myself a thousand times; even Dorthe must
admit it. She's our new cook, whom we've had only six
weeks, and I don't yet know whether she amounts to much,
for she laughs all day long ; but the old one wouldn't answer
any longer ; at last she scarcely talked of anything else, and
would probably have blurted it out to you the very first
evening ; and the two housemaids said then I must give them
their recommendations immediately, too, for nobody could
vanish without flying, and the whole city said so ; and there-
fore I told them they needn't stay, and gave them their
recommendations at once. For even if the new ones, whom
you can now choose yourself, are no different, you'll at
least have some peace from their stupid gossip during the
first few days ; and even that is worth something. Wasn't
I right, madam ? "
" I really don't know what you are talking about," replied
Annchen.
A half-embarrassed, half-angry smile flitted over the
housekeeper's fat face.
" Ah ! you don't know really don't know ? Then I beg
a thousand pardons. I'm certainly not one of those who
can't keep their mouths shut; and when my master says:
30
Friedrich Spielhagen
'Frau Uelzen, don't speak of it; it's to be a surprise/
I don't speak of it. And if he had said : ' Frau Uelzen, don't
say anything to your mistress about what happened to me
with Herr Fliederbusch,' I should have said nothing, you
can depend upon that. Have you any orders to give ? "
Frau Uelzen courtesied, and, as an answer did not come
immediately, was silently retiring in the consciousness of her
insulted dignity as housekeeper, then paused irresolutely;
the large, brown eyes of her young mistress, who had sud-
denly started from her chair, gazed at her so inquiringly,
and at the same time, Frau Uelzen thought, with such a
terrified look.
" Why, do you really know nothing about it? " asked Frau
Uelzen.
A scarcely perceptible shake of the head was the reply.
Frau Uelzen clasped her hands in honest amazement and
exclaimed :
" Dear me ! now I really don't know whether I ought to
say more. For if my master has said nothing about it
well, he has a good conscience and can run the risk; and
besides, he surely doesn't know how people talk, otherwise
he would certainly have told you how it happened, because
you must learn it before you've been in Woldom twenty-four
hours longer, and since, after all, it will be just as well for
you to hear the story from me, because I mean kindly, and
at least know what I know, and how it began, and the
others know nothing at all; and if the people say I was
jealous of Herr Fliederbusch but my master has probably
told you about Herr Fliederbusch?"
" I don't remember," said Annchen sadly.
" Is it possible ? " exclaimed Frau Uelzen.
Annchen had seated herself in the chair, displaying a
calmness that her trembling knees and throbbing heart belied.
In spite of her bewilderment, she keenly felt the impropriety
of allowing this garrulous old person to inform her of things
and persons about which Lebrecht had hitherto kept silence.
But suppose this had not been accidental ? Suppose he had
only kept silence in order not to alarm her? Suppose his
31
German Mystery Stories
restlessness, his ill-humor, his gloomy manner, that had
already caused her so much anxiety, should now find an
unexpected explanation? Suppose she could say to him
this evening : " I know it now, Lebrecht " ? What ? Mer-
ciful Heavens! what? It was certainly something very,
very unpleasant something really terrible ; that was evident
enough from the old woman's previous words ; but in com-
parison to the terrible thought she had had in her mind all
this time, which had made her so wretched
" Won't you sit down ? " said Annchen, pointing to a
chair that stood near.
Frau Uelzen availed herself of the permission only too
willingly. So good an opportunity to let her light shine
before a young wife who had just set foot in the house had
not come in her way during all the many years of her service
as housekeeper. Her little fat figure really seemed to grow,
as, taking a seat on the extreme edge of the chair, and
smoothing her black silk apron with her red hands, while a
self-satisfied smile rested on her broad mouth, she said:
" Don't look so anxiously at the clock. When the Herr
Doctor is with the master he always stays a long time ; and
to-night it'll be longer, for Balthazar, who just took in a
bottle of wine that's always the first thing when the doctor
comes, but I mean nothing, madam; God forbid! says
they're already talking about it. And the doctor goes about
the city so much, and always took a great deal of interest
in Herr Fliederbusch, who lost his mother long ago and had
only an old aunt, a shipmaster's widow. Her brother, Herr
Fliederbusch's father, was a ship's captain, and sailed for
us many years, until he how long ago was it ? Yes ; in the
spring we had the fire on the dike, and in the autumn the
Anna Maria was wrecked and all the crew drowned, and
Herr Fliederbusch too the father, I mean and in the
winter the boy came to our house. It's six years ago, and
he was then fourteen, and so would now be twenty if "
" Is he dead ? " exclaimed Annchen in terror.
Frau Uelzen cast a sorrowful glance at the ceiling.
" Why, that's just what nobody knows and what they're
32
Friedrich Spielhagen
racking their brains about ; for everybody knew him, and it
was Hans Fliederbusch here, and Hans Fliederbusch there.
He was called Hans, and was a regular Hans Dampf in
every street, though he's said to have been very smart in
business, at least now; yet I've often heard the clerks speak
of him very differently, and wonder how our master could
place so much confidence in such a swaggering young fellow.
Well, I don't understand it, and never grudged it to him
when the master invited him to dinner oftener than the
others, took him to the springs in summer during the busi-
ness season, and in winter skated with him or shot at a
target in the garden. Three years ago he even took him to
London, and last year to Paris, that he might learn to know
something of the world, the master said, though Balthazar
said so that he could stand gaping about there, which he
couldn't do here in Woldom. That's certainly very dis-
respectful of Balthazar, but you know what people are, and
it's surely my duty to conceal nothing on this side. Bal-
thazar was really jealous of Herr Fliederbusch, and the last
evening, when my master was going away the next morning
to be married, scolded to us in the kitchen because Herr
Fliederbusch was packing the master's trunks, and he had
done everything himself for the late senator for thirty years.
But Herr Fliederbusch packed in this very room, where the
master has always slept, though it didn't look so elegant as
it does now ; and during that time the Herr Doctor was with
the master in the master's room, where they are at this
moment, and they had probably drunk two or three bottles
of wine. Then the doctor went away, and Balthazar lighted
him downstairs and didn't come up again, because he sleeps
below. I had sent the girls to bed, too, because they were
obliged to be up early the next morning, and there was
nothing more for them to do or for me; only Balthazar
hadn't cleared away the bottles and glasses, and I didn't
know whether I should go in, because the master doesn't
like it if people come when they're not called ; and I prob-
ably nodded a little over it, and was very much surprised,
when I woke, to find the clock was already striking twelve,
33
German Mystery Stories
and I thought I had been roused by it, for it was still striking
when I waked.
" Well, I'm a sensible old person, and not easily fright-
ened ; but when one wakes while the clock is striking twelve,
and thinks that everybody has been in bed a long time, and
the whole house is as still as death, and suddenly it begins
to echo and resound just as it does in church, you know
so hollow and awful that one doesn't know whether the
noise comes down from the ceiling above or up from the
vaults below. ' Merciful Heavens ! ' I thought, ' what can
that be?' For that my master and Herr Fliederbusch
should still be up no, indeed, that didn't occur to me at
first, and it's an everlasting distance to the master's room,
and I was down the passage leading from the kitchen past
the guest-rooms, where I sleep; and it grew louder, and I
summoned up my courage and turned back. Yes, it came
from the master's room first his voice and then Herr
Fliederbusch's and then both at the same time, as if they
were quarreling fiercely with each other. Well, this was
very strange, because I had never yet heard an angry word
from the master to Herr Fliederbusch, and would never
have thought it possible Herr Fliederbusch would venture
to talk so to the master. And out of sheer astonishment
for I know what's seemly for a servant, and a housekeeper
ought to set the servants a good example, and listeners
never hear any good of themselves; but one needn't listen
to hear, and Kabelmann, our beadle, had just gone through
the alley and heard it too, though there's no window at all
opening upon the alley, and the walls are a yard thick.
Well, it may be so, if he swears to it ; but the words he can't
swear to, I say, for I was standing close by the door and
heard nothing I could swear to, except once, when the
master cried, ' Give it back to me,' and Herr Fliederbusch
replied, ' No, I won't give it back ! ' And then God for-
give me the sin ! it seemed as if they had each other by the
throat, and they probably struck against the table, which
upset with all the glasses and bottles on it, and then came
a loud shriek. I thought the master had killed him, for it
34
Friedrich Spielhagen
was Herr Fliederbusch that screamed, and I wanted to go
into the room, but the door was locked, and I you haven't
seen crossed the entry to the dining-room, from which a
door leads into the master's room, and this was locked too.
But now I became so frightened that I can't describe it, and,
besides, everything was perfectly quiet and remained so,
and I probably stood for several minutes, always with the
light in my hand, and I wonder now that I didn't let it fall
in my fright. And then I went into the entry again, and
there, thank God ! came the master at least, but out of the
sleeping-room, and he had a light in his hand, too, and ran
towards the stairs as if the house were on fire, and I behind
him ; for he hadn't seen me at all, so that he was already on
the first landing when I still stood at the top, and would
have certainly rushed all the way down, only that his candle
went out; and he now perceived for the first time that I was
there, and called : ' Come quick, Frau Uelzen ; come quick ! '
Well, I came as quick as I could, and he lighted his candle
by mine, and was as white as a wall; and his hand shook
so that the candlestick struck against mine, and at first he
couldn't light the candle at all; and I was obliged to ask
three times, ' What has happened ? ' before he got out : ' Herr
Fliederbusch ' only he didn't say Herr Fliederbusch, but
Hans ' has thrown himself out of the window in my sleep-
ing-room and is lying in the garden below/ ' Dead ? ' I
asked. ' I don't know,' said my master ; ' I called to him,
but had no answer/ ' What has happened ? ' I asked again.
' We've had a quarrel/ said my master. ' I'm very sorry
very. If I could have suspected it ! ' His lips quivered, his
eyes were starting out of his head, and he swayed to and
fro till I thought he was falling ; then he straightened him-
self and said : ' This will do no good. Frau Uelzen, stay
here and wake Balthazar ; I'll look after him myself/ ' But
your light will go out again, sir/ said I. ' There's Christian/
replied my master ; ' I'll take his lantern/
" Meantime we had reached the bottom of the stairs, and
were passing the windows that look out upon the courtyard.
In the courtyard we saw Christian that's our coachman.
35
German Mystery Stories
He had already pushed out the chaise, in which my master
was going to drive to the station next morning, and, as he
heard it begin to rain, had got up again and gone there to
spread a cover over it. He's a great simpleton, but always
attends carefully to his horses and carriages, and his big
lantern was certainly a necessity in the darkness. And it
was raining hard when my master opened the door leading
into the courtyard, and I said, ' Won't you put on a cap ? '
but he made no answer, only said Balthazar must run for
the doctor immediately. Well, why should I make a long
story? for they didn't find him, though they searched the
whole garden first my master alone with Christian, and
then a few of our servants, whom the master roused, with
half a dozen lanterns; and then they searched the whole
house from the upper garret to the lowest cellar, though
there was no human possibility that he could have got out
of the garden into the house. Then they sent through the
whole city, and there was an uproar as if it were all in
flames ; but Herr Fliederbusch wasn't found, and our master
gave the necessary information, and that very night the old
chief of police took his deposition I believe that's what it's
called and said he could go on his journey in peace, for no
one could object to giving a young man a box on the ear
if he was saucy to his employer; and if the young man,
instead of begging pardon, ran away, and out of pure malice,
so to speak, threw himself out of a window twenty feet high
into the garden, it would serve him right if he broke his
neck; and that he didn't do so was plain; and if he had a
life like a cat he could climb over a garden-wall ; and if cats
were not attached to human beings they were to houses, and
he'd come back again when he had sown his wild oats ; he'd
live to see that, and we too. Well, the old gentleman didn't
live to see it, for they buried him a week ago, and he was the
late senator's best friend and our master's godfather; and
I believe he'd turn in his grave if he heard what the people
say now about the foolish old story."
" What do they say? What can they say? " cried Ann-
chen. She had suddenly started from her chair and
36
Friedrich Spielhagen
stretched her clasped hands towards Frau Uelzen. An
almost malicious glance flashed from the little housekeeper's
swollen eyes at the agitated young wife as she slowly wagged
her head from one shoulder to the other.
" What can they say ? Ah ! what can't wicked people say
when they've nothing better to talk about and the matter
concerns our master, who has so much property that he
could buy the whole city, and gives away his beautiful money
so lavishly that it's a sin and a shame to see what creatures
often get it? For in this the master is just like the late
senator who, when he died, probably had half Woldom in
his debtors' account-book ship captains and sailors and
merchants and mechanics and all canceled and with the
words written underneath : ' Payment will be received
above.' "
Frau Uelzen wiped her eyes, as she always did when she
related this anecdote of the departed.
" Yes, yes," she continued, " he was a good gentleman
too good for this world; and what didn't they say about
him? he had been in the slave-trade when he was a young
man in America, and still had several dozen ships that sailed
between Africa and America, and only carried cargoes of
slaves, but never came to Woldom, always anchored behind
Gallows Hill that's half a mile from here and no one
formerly dared to go there, because a few years ago the
old gallows still stood, until the Herr Senator tore them
down and built a lighthouse. And then they said he only
did it because the late king threatened he would order him to
be hung on them if he didn't stop the slave-trade and fill up
the subterranean passages from the gallows to our house.
Yes, one wouldn't believe it, but people really say so; and
there are some who declare the passage never was filled up,
but is there now; and there is a door, of which nobody
knows except the master, leading into his room, which was
also occupied by the late senator, who on his death-bed
showed it to his son ; and if the door could only be found
Hans Fliederbusch would be found too."
" Good Heavens ! " cried Annchen.
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German Mystery Stories
"It's too shameful, isn't it? But don't worry about it.
Nobody can understand how Herr Fliederbusch got out of
the garden, for there are high, smooth walls all around it,
and only one door into the courtyard, where Christian was
with the carriage, whom he must have passed, and a few
cellar-windows, but they are grated. And it's true about
the door in the master's room, and that nobody who doesn't
know where it is can easily find it ; and there may formerly
have been a passage, for in a house that's three hundred
years old, and has such thick walls, everything is possible ;
but now there's only a closet behind it, which, to be sure,
is big enough to put half a house in ; and one-half is entirely
empty; but the other has shelves, where the late senator
kept his deeds and other papers, which the young master
arranged and packed when the old gentleman died I was
there myself ten chests full, that now stand in the cellar.
And the master kept nothing in it I know that much
except his fishing-rods and guns, until a few days before
he went away he said to me : ' Frau Uelzen, we have the
house full of workmen and it will be so for two or three
weeks, until everything is finished, and you can't have your
eyes everywhere. We'll take the silver from the sideboard
and put it in the closet; for, though the men are honest,
something might be spoiled which could not be replaced/
' Yes, indeed,' said I ; ' and I think we'll put the spoons and
other things in, too. Safe is safe, and I shall be free from
anxiety, for anybody can open the drawers in the sideboard
with a crooked nail.' The master laughed, but a person like
me knows better, and so I packed everything in the closet
in silk paper, as is proper when one has such valuable things
in charge and only kept out half a dozen of our common
table and coffee spoons in case of accident ; and it was very
lucky, for when you wanted the coffee just now, and I told
the master I would like to put one of our beautiful gold
spoons in the saucer, he told me it would do very well so,
and he had lost the key. ' Why didn't you give it to me ? '
I said ; for he was going to give it to me, and I was to take
the things out and arrange them on the sideboard again when
38
FnedricH Spielhagen
everything was in order. And I wonder you haven't noticed
how it looks now like a plucked goose ; only the last night
the master had his mind so full and didn't go to bed at all,
because we expected every minute they would find Herr
Fliederbusch somewhere, till it was seven o'clock, and the
master was obliged to go to the railway station if he wanted
to be with his young bride in Cologne the next morning.
But, dear me ! there it is striking half-past nine. How time
passes when one is talking ! I must go to the kitchen, that
you may have something fit for supper, for I can't trust
Dorthe across the street, though she's been head cook at
Mother Ihlefeldt's three years, and the master and Herr
Doctor must have finished their talk, if you want to go down
now. Can I do anything else for you ? "
" Thank you," said Annchen ; " I can find my way alone."
" I suppose so," said Frau Uelzen, collecting the coffee
service ; " if a petted young lady can travel six weeks with-
out even her maid, and the master, well, our master really
needs no servant at all; and I've always said, when people
wondered : ' So young a couple are happiest when they're
entirely alone, and those who have an abundance of every-
thing at home are most unpretending while traveling/ "
Frau Uelzen was already at the door when she made this
remark, which she thought particularly complimentary, and
in return for which she expected from the young wife a
friendly word, or at least a courteous wave of the hand, or
even both. But Annchen, who, with her back half turned,
was now standing at the end of the room before the large
mirror between the two windows, said nothing, and did not
even move; but, to make amends, Frau Uelzen, with her
sharp eyes, saw very distinctly the young wife's reflection in
the mirror, which was brightly illuminated by the candles
in the sconces, and it was gazing so mournfully into vacancy
with its dark eyes Frau Uelzen thought a few soothing
words could do no harm at least ; she hemmed, to show that
she was still in the room, and said:
" But you mustn't take this to heart. When one has a
clear conscience one can let people talk; and our master
39
German Mystery Stories
isn't like Baron von Klabenow, at Wustenei, when I was
housekeeper there. It's almost forty years ago now, and
I was a very young thing, and had to go before the court
to say whether I knew anything about it, and what I knew.
But I really knew nothing at all, and because a young gentle-
man comes into the store-room and talks nonsense to a girl,
even when he has a beautiful young wife dear me! Well,
old Palzow must have noticed it too, and they probably
quarreled about it in Wustenei Wood; and one day the
baron didn't come home, and did not appear for six weeks,
though every place was searched the fields and the woods
and the ponds and old Palzow was always at the head,
because nobody had any suspicion of him. And so about
this time, in October, Jochen Wenhak's dog barked in the
woods Jochen was the cow-herd, and had driven the cattle
under the trees and had a bone in its mouth. And a cow-
herd knows all kinds of bones, and said at once to the
gendarme, who was just riding up the highway : * That's one
of our master's bones ;' and it was true ! He had lain in the
pine woods all the time, only a foot under the earth; and
they had walked ten times over the very spot without any
suspicion; and old Palzow hadn't dared to bury him any
deeper, so the foxes had dug up the body and half devoured
it. They went at once to arrest the old man, for his powder-
horn had been found with other things; but when he saw
them coming he shrieked, * I've been waiting for you a long
time/ and sent a bullet through his head, so that he fell dead
on the threshold."
Frau Uelzen had related the story, which was one of her
favorite tales, loud enough, but was not quite sure whether
her mistress had heard, for she still stood before the mirror
without moving, and a fear suddenly took possession of the
housekeeper that she might, after all, have said too much
and talked of things about which she had better kept silence.
But she consoled herself with the thought that she had intro-
duced no subject of which she had been expressly forbidden
to speak, and had said nothing about the only thing her
master had prohibited.
40
Friedrich Spielhagen
So she coughed lightly, this time in token that she now
really intended to go, rattled the china a little, as the cough
did not avail, and left the room in the embarrassing uncer-
tainty whether her mistress really did not notice her
departure or only pretended not to.
But Annchen, when she heard the door close, passed both
hands over her brow and eyes like a person roused from a
stupor, glanced timidly around to convince herself that she
was really alone, and then rushed to the door through which
Frau Uelzen had gone, pushed the bolt, and did the same
to the second door that led to the front room.
Then she hurried to the table, on which lay various hand-
bags piled one above another, opened an elegant little box,
and with trembling hands rummaged among all sorts of
dainty articles of feminine attire. There it was !
She took it out an article wrapped in a white cambric
handkerchief. She unwound it one of Lebrecht's fine
pocket-handkerchiefs; an old-fashioned key, with a long,
smooth handle, circular bit, and round top, appeared.
The key was dotted with brown spots; she had already
noticed them, and also that the rust had stained the hand-
kerchief.
But as she unfolded the handkerchief and held it to
the light merciful Heavens! was that really rust?
A shudder ran through her frame. She had involuntarily
dropped key and handkerchief.
But the next instant she picked them up again, and, look-
ing around her, seemed to be seeking some safe hiding-place,
when she perceived the little box.
Were those steps? No; but the key and handkerchief
were perhaps safest in her pocket, where she had let them
slip in her fright.
From what?
The young wife tried to laugh. The laugh sounded so
strange, so unlike her own, that she suddenly burst into
tears.
" That horrible person with her frightful stories ! And
Lebrecht that he has never said a word to me about it ! "
41
German Mystery Stories
She again sat in the armchair before the fireplace, think-
ing, thinking as before no, no! struggling with all the
power of her soul against the terrible thought that she had
now found the key to Lebrecht's melancholy.
Ill
" WHAT was that? " asked the doctor.
" I heard a noise," said Lebrecht, closing the door again.
" It was only Frau Uelzen."
' * Only Frau Uelzen ' is charming," said the doctor,
emptying his glass and filling it again " just like the man
with the bad conscience. She was probably coming from
your wife."
" I suppose so," said Lebrecht.
" H'm! and suppose she has just told your wife wholly
en passant and without thinking anything of it ; why should
she think much about it ? your pretty secret ? "
" I forgot to tell you that I expressly requested her not
to speak of it."
"On what pretext?"
" It is it is to be a surprise for Annchen."
" A surprise is good, very good ; and suppose one of the
other servants surprises her with it old Balthazar, for
instance ? "
" That's as improbable as possible."
" But still possible."
" Why do you torment me ? "
" Only to show you that your secret, like the sword of
Damocles, in spite of all your precautions, hangs by a silken
thread."
"As if I didn't know that just as well and better than
you."
" By a silken thread, that any wretched chance can sever,
and the sword will fall and you will be a lost man. Yes,
you are already, and I'll prove it to you."
The ironical smile with which the doctor had hitherto
42
Friedrich Spielhagen
listened to his friend's long confession vanished from his
pale face. He began to rub the sharp knees of his long,
thin legs with the palms of his hands, at first slowly and then
faster and faster, as was his habit when a patient had
exhausted his forbearance. Besides, he no longer, as before,
looked over his spectacles with a humorous twinkle into his
friend's face, but kept his eyes down, as if everything he
had to say were writen on the carpet and he must read it
in the greatest hurry, for fear the next moment might blot
it out.
" I'll prove as plainly as that two and two make four
that you're nothing more nor less than a monomaniac, as
much as anyone who suffers from an insane idea of persecu-
tion or believes that he has a hundred-weight of hay in his
stomach or a bushel of caterpillars in his head. For
Heaven's sake, imagine how a sensible man in your position
would have behaved ! There is, apart from his name, about
which the schoolboy fought a thousand bloody battles in
consequence of teasing and ridicule, in his relations, in his
life, a circumstance of which he is ashamed, although in no
way to blame for it, and which he can change as little as
his name or the nose he brought into the world. In my
eyes, to be sure, this shame is contemptible aristocratic non-
sense, which already borders on insanity, but is no lunacy,
because in this direction I make the widest concessions to
taste. What is one man's owl is another man's nightingale,
and vice versa; and to the man of whom we speak the cir-
cumstance in the course of his life has become more and
more of an owl. He has alternately raged over it and
dreaded it, and even in his way had reason to do so, because
other people are just as weak as he, and have occasionally
reproached him with his owl ; as, for instance, that charming
colonel with his : ' We would gladly make you an offer, my
dear fellow ; but in this aristocratic regiment, you know '
* Devil take him ! ' the man said then, and I hoped that on
every other occasion, when anyone even pretended to jeer at
his owl, he would say, * Devil take him ! '
" He always did so, too, so far as I know, until one fine
43
German Mystery Stories
day he was obliged to say, 'Devil take her!' and that he
could not do; he hadn't the heart.
" From my standpoint I must lament this, but I can under-
stand it ; nay, more, I'm no moralist, at least not one of those
strict ones who allow no exceptions. I allow exceptions ;
I say love, like war, is a struggle for existence. In war, as
in love, all means are fair ; and as he would be a poor general
who betrayed to the enemy his weak point before the time,
so he would be a fool who allowed his lady-love to look into
the owl's eyes, when, like the colonel, she would say : ' I
would gladly have you for a husband, my dear sir, but in
this aristocratic house, you know '
"Bon! The wise general and prudent lover practise con-
cealment. That is their right nay, more, it is their duty.
" But mark this, mon cher, only for a time only until
in battle the moment comes when the battalion the enemy
took for an army must break forth and shout, or rather
show, we are a handful of men, but each one is a hero only
until those sweet days of satiated, insatiable love, when he
can venture to tell her all, all, even if it were that he was a
mystic swan knight or incarnate Satan, and she would
answer, ' That is all the same to me/
" I am a physician, my dear fellow, and if I wanted to be
indiscreet could cite cases where confessions of scarcely
less import have been made and forgiven nay, what do I
say, answered with kisses steeped in tenfold sweetness.
" But you for I must now speak of you what are you
doing? What have you done? You have allowed those
favorable, all-powerful, all-kind, all-loving moments to
vanish, never to return.
" Never to return, mon cher. You are outside of that
paradise where there is no sin and no repentance, no atone-
ment and no punishment the paradise from which you
have just come, and which the young wife inevitably leaves
with the first step she takes across the threshold of the
house whose mistress she must henceforth be. And she,
suddenly feeling on her delicate shoulders the burden of
responsibility which she undertook with such careless
44
Friedrich Spielhagen
courage, asks herself, startled and doubting, ' Will you be
able to bear this burden ? ' And she answers the critical
question with a hopeful, confident sigh, ' Yes, if he stands
firmly and loyally beside me, he who is the embodiment of
loyalty and firmness and honesty and goodness.' And now
this good, firm, honest, loyal man comes to her and makes
a sneering grimace, ' You are snared, my sweet little bird ; '
or, what in my eyes is ten times worse, he whispers in her
ear, amid caresses that cannot come from his anxious heart,
* I have sinned against you and am not worthy.' Pshaw !
can the excellent husband marvel if she takes him at his
word? I tell you, mon cher, I know young ladies who
would do so ; and, from all you have told me earlier or later
about your wife, I should say that she will do so. One
isn't descended on the mother's side from the Kliingel-Putz
for nothing.
" For here, my dear fellow, the circle from which there
was an escape at first closes. From fear of the aristocratic
nonsense of the family you have kept your secret until you
can no longer disclose it without not only offending the
aristocratic whims for which I should care nothing, but
morality itself morality, mon cher, whose sacredness I,
too, respect.
" Think of the poet's words : ' He who murders confidence
destroys the coming generation in its mother's womb.' The
wound you have dealt your young wife's trusting heart will
never wholly heal. From this hour to all eternity, she will,
she can, never believe your words until she has obtained
confirmation of them elsewhere. Do you know what that
means to a young wife from elsewhere? It simply means
from other men, who are probably no better and no worse
than you, but whom she, out of pure opposition to you,
unceremoniously believes better. I'll show you by an ex-
ample close at hand how far this want of confidence can go.
" You say Frau Uelzen won't disclose the secret to her
because you have forbidden it. Let us suppose she resists
the temptation that lies in the very command and doesn't
chatter. Who in the world will answer for it that she
45
German Mystery Stories
doesn't make use of the precious time to tell your wife the
story of Hans Fliederbusch I repeat, in spite of your
muttering, who will answer for it? and tell the story with
the ghastly comments, as it has been in people's mouths
almost ever since you went away? I haven't told you the
most horrible yet, because I wanted to spare you ; but quod
ferrum non sanat, ignis! So the old, half -forgotten legend
of the secret passage that opens into this room and at the
other end into a cave on the seashore near Gallows Hill has
been dug up again, and people now know exactly where the
young man is. It's very ridiculous, isn't it? And yet it's
not ridiculous at all. You can't let everybody come here
and say : * Look, gentlemen, at this great closet ; it would
probably hold all you fools together/ And even if you care
nothing about the fools' gossip, suppose the talk gets to your
wife's ears, and the youngster doesn't return which may
God forbid! and the secret of his disappearance should
never be explained, do you think all this would contribute
to make your young wife's stay in this confounded castle
very comfortable? Do you suppose she could ever enter
this room without thinking of the story? Or, I'll tell you
what, my dear fellow, if I were in your place, before she
heard anything of the gossip and the existence of the closet
I'd secretly have it walled up, so that when the cackle is
really carried to her you can say quietly : ' Now think what
nonsense, my dear ! There isn't even a closet here, let alone
a secret closet, let alone a secret passage, let alone ' Are
you crazy ? "
The doctor, whose thin body had accompanied the long
speech, finally poured forth in almost frantic haste, with
more and more energetic, pendulum-like motions, while the
hands that rubbed his knees looked like trembling reflections
of light, sat as if petrified, his eyes fixed on Lebrecht with
a half -startled, half-questioning gaze, as a physician looks
in whose presence some one suddenly displays extremely
suspicious symptoms of insanity; for Lebrecht, who, as the
doctor at least supposed, sat opposite to him listening quietly,
had started up, raised the heavy armchair, which the doctor
46
Friedrich Spielhagen
could only move with difficulty from one place to another,
high in the air as if it were a child's, and then dashed it
down again, so that, in spite of the thick carpet, there was
a loud bang that made the glasses and bottles on the large
oak table rattle and the lamp with three burners hanging
over it swing perceptibly. Then he rushed up and down the
room, thrusting both hands in his fair, curly hair and shak-
ing his clenched fists, as if in the face of an invisible rival,
and now paused close before the doctor and muttered
through his teeth :
" Damn it ! Damn it ! "
" Damn what or who, my dear Lebrecht ? " said the doctor,
in a tone whose calmness formed the strangest contrast to
the torrent of speech he had just poured forth.
" We put it there there in the closet ! "
"What, my dear Lebrecht?"
" How can you ask ? The the "
" The corpus delicti? "
" Yes, yes ; we were obliged to put it somewhere. It was
the nearest, the safest hiding-place for the moment."
" Of course ! I had entirely forgotten to ask where you
had left it."
" He was to take it out again and restore it to its place,
in case I could write to him that I had spoken to Annchen,
or else put it secretly somewhere in safety in one of the
garrets ; for it ought not to be destroyed at any cost."
" Of course the ancient sign of the house ! We still
possess so much reverence."
" I had left the key with him for the purpose."
"And he has taken it?"
" No ; it was about the key that matters went so far. He
threatened to betray me ; I wanted it back again ; he wouldn't
return it. I snatched the accursed key; I I struck him
with it."
"Dead?"
"Are you mad?"
" No matter ; you needn't stamp your foot. So he wasn't
dead? And then?"
47
German Mystery Stories
" Then came everything as I have told you. I "
"Well?"
"I've lost the key!"
"Where and how?"
" I don't know ; I thought I threw it, wrapped up, into one
of my trunks. On the journey I repeatedly searched for it
in vain; it's gone."
" Take it for a good omen," cried the doctor, starting up
"take it as a sign that you must never open the closet
again, or, as I just said, have an extra wall built over it
immediately, and as, according to the words and meaning
of your father's will, you must have one, let it be a new one.
Le roi est mort, and, as behooves so great a tyrant, solemnly
interred in the vaults of his own palace. Requiescat in
pace, and mue le roil"
" It won't do ! it won't do ! The closet must be opened
again ; I had put in all my silver that very morning."
" Does anybody know ? "
" Frau Uelzen."
" H'm ! Does she know the key is gone ? "
" I was obliged to tell her just now ; she wanted to get
something. I knew it would be so, and therefore wished
to avoid the reception of my young clerks, whom I should
have been compelled to entertain, and then "
" And you are afraid to have the closet opened in other
people's presence, and especially by other people. The
corpus delicti "
" Stands tall and broad in front."
" Then you must do it alone ! "
" That will be very difficult without the confounded key,
as there is no other."
" Then burst the door. Or are you afraid the noise will
wake your wife? Pshaw! healthy young women generally
sleep sound."
" Cease your jests."
" By Heavens ! I'm not jesting. What are you doing,
what have you done all this time, except trust to your wife's
sound sleep that she hears nothing, sees nothing, gives no
48
Friedrich Spielhagen
thought to the altered, insufferable manner of which you
accuse yourself that no incautious word of your servants
will afford an explanation of your melancholy that would
make her tender skin creep so that no kisses and no caresses
could ever wholly soothe her again? Why do you stand
there, man, as if thunderstruck ? You, the King of Woldom,
every inch a boy, that is afraid of the ghoste he himself
conjured up! Can nothing, neither my jests, my earnest-
ness, my sound reasons, the malicious chance that seems to
have conspired against you and there is a chance, believe
me, in spite of Wallenstein respect for yourself, love for
your wife can nothing, nothing at all, induce you to do the
sole and only thing that remains for you to do; to go at
once, before your wife can cross this threshold, and tell her
all weeping or swearing, humbly or angrily, it's all the
same to me, and a matter of no consequence but all, do
you hear ? all, all down to the dot over the ' i ' ! "
"For God's sake, hush!"
The doctor, who in the fire of his zeal had spoken the
last imploring words as loud as his hasty manner and
hoarse voice permitted, had pointed with outstretched arm
towards the door that led into the entry, and through which
he expected Annchen's entrance. But the eyes of Lebrecht,
who stood opposite to him, were fixed upon a second one,
through which the first room of the suite was reached, and
to his extreme discomfort he had suddenly seen that this
door, which he had just carefully closed himself, was only
ajar. Perhaps it had sprung open when he banged the heavy
chair so violently on the floor; no matter, it must be shut
again, and he was just in the act of rushing past the doctor,
whom he scarcely heard, when a chair before it was moved.
His startled exclamation and staring eyes now made the
doctor turn too. The door, already ajar, was wide open,
and against the light background of the apartments, illu-
mined with candles, stood Annchen's tall, slender figure. She
hesitated a moment, and then, with a light, floating move-
ment, a smile on her beautiful, though somewhat pallid face,
advanced towards the gentlemen.
49
German Mystery Stories
IV
THE suddenness of Annchen's appearance had for a few
moments completely robbed of their composure the two men
surprised in so strange a conversation.
Lebrecht, presenting the doctor, could scarcely mutter
something about his " oldest and best friend," and the doctor
gurgle : " How do you do, fair lady ? Welcome to Wol-
dom ! " in his most unintelligible throat-notes. He then
made a terribly solemn bow, and, after straightening his tall,
thin figure, gazed down from his height through his glitter-
ing spectacles at Annchen, while the latter, in a few cordial
words, answered his greeting and sat down in one of the
armchairs which Lebrecht, in embarrassed haste, pushed up
to the fireside, inviting his friend to be seated. But the
doctor muttered something unintelligible through his teeth
and began to pace up and down with long strides, as was
his habit when in his practice an unforeseen moment met
him, concerning which he wished to decide without troubling
himself about the patient or others present.
He had not foreseen, could not have foreseen this. From
Lebrecht's scanty description, he had imagined Annchen to
be a little, pretty, vivacious person, with a quantity of flutter-
ing ribbons, always ready for jests, laughter, and all sorts
of pranks and mischief; a little, or even very, coquettish,
and, all in all, terribly pampered and spoiled but yet, in
spite, or precisely on account of these qualities, the right
wife for his somewhat too grave friend, who was now and
then pensive to melancholy, formal to pedantry. And he
had constantly seen this airy little figure before his mind's
eye during the whole singular conversation he had just had
with his friend, and which had made him so beside himself.
The darling of his soul, his idol nay, his ideal, much as he
found to criticise and reprove the handsome, proud man,
the King of Woldom, in a situation of such horrible
absurdity that if, instead, he had really killed and cooked
and eaten Hans Fliederbusch it would have seemed to him,
50
Friedrich Spielhagen
Dr. Adalbert Bertram, the more pardonable case, and all for
the sake of the airy little figure, the little person who doubt-
less scarcely reached to the blond giant's heart, whom the
giant could take up on his arms like a doll, and, with
" Eiapopaia, what is rustling in the straw ? " laughingly sing
the ridiculous secret into the little doll's ears! Was the
doll getting angry? Hush, little doll, hush! or you won't
have your piece of sugar to-night. And the doll is quiet,
and there is no longer a rustling in the straw.
Then he turns, and before him stands a young lady, in
each and every particular a complete contrast to the picture
of his over-hasty imagination an elastic figure, that only
requires to raise the beautiful head a very little to touch the
giant Lebrecht's lips. And what a head ! small and dainty
as the Diana of Versailles, with superb contours, the blue-
black, slightly-waving hair sweeping above the broad, yet
delicate forehead, and gathered with careless grace into a
knot at the back of the head; large, flashing eyes under
beautifully-arched, delicate eyebrows; a small mouth, with
soft, yet firm lips, that one is uncertain whether one can best
kiss or command; everything about the beautiful, slender
figure looking as if it had been cast in a mould, and every
pose, every slightest gesture of the hand, like that of a
gracious queen, even the tone of the voice, soft and low, like
the drapery that floats about a divinity. The doctor was
like a person who has received a divine revelation.
A divine, terrible revelation!
He had suddenly understood all that a few minutes before
had been an intricate rebus, which possibly has a very pro-
found, but, according to all probability, extremely tasteless
interpretation. The strange problem was solved, to the
shame, and at the same time the deepest alarm, of the coun-
selor. Lebrecht's original thought, which had seemed to
him cowardice and absurdity, suddenly appeared like great
boldness ; Lebrecht's delay in making the disclosure at least
perfectly intelligible; his present situation not in the least
laughable, but in the highest degree critical, nay, almost
desperate; a frankness such as he had just imagined and
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German Mystery Stories
advised as a matter of course only possible to the boldest
courage, and extremely doubtful of success; preparation
very wise, perhaps necessary, the more so as here there
could be no question of submissive, easily-intimidated, all-
forgiving love. One so beautiful had unquestionably found
it easy to be loved ; why take the trouble to love in return ?
Did a young, loving wife look so? Did a young, loving
wife talk so so politely and formally, sensibly and calmly
on her first evening in the house of her beloved husband,
at the first interview with her husband's best friend. For
he had long since given up the idea that, as he had feared at
her entrance, she had heard something of their conversation,
even if only enough to make her perplexed and confused.
There was no trace of embarrassment the air of a princess
who is not wholly satisfied with her reception, the arrange-
ments made, but is far too aristocratic to allow it to be
noticed. Perhaps it did not suit her ladyship that he was
still here, after she had delayed her coming long enough and
given him time to go. Out of this room? Do you know,
madam, that I, Dr. Adalbert Bertram, have a right to this
room which you must yet gain? Do you know that your
husband, who now bears you company so silently and sul-
lenly beside the fire, and I, Dr. Adalbert Bertram, have sat
together yonder beside that dear old massive table of solid
oak for years, evening after evening, until late at night,
drinking, chatting, smoking, exchanging thoughts and feel-
ings, even if we were silent, even if we did not vie with
each other in mad jests, or restore the confused world to
order in long speeches overflowing with wisdom ? And now
do you come and make the boldest man a coward, separate
the most faithful friends, like a beautiful ghost, till I, Dr.
Adalbert Bertram, who do not fear the devil himself,
scarcely dare step on this, my well-worn soil, this confounded
thick carpet, that is merely put down on your account, and
no longer venture to pour out a glass of wine, though, from
so much talking and the nervous excitement I feel through
my whole body, my tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth ?
Well, by Heaven ! you shall not catch me in your net, fair
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Friedrich Spielhagen
fiend, nor yonder poor fellow either, or you shall release
him again, so sure as my name is Dr. Adalbert Bertram!
And the doctor approached the table, filled his glass to
the brim, emptied it at a single draught, and continued his
walk, cursing his nerves his nerves that were utterly re-
bellious to-day; secretly quarreling with Lebrecht, whose
cowardice was undoubtedly contagious; cursing the young
wife's beauty, in which he no longer saw the cause of the
situation, but the real motive and root of the evil.
The tall, thin man, who, revolving so many dangerous and
critical matters in his mind, scarcely found time to occasion-
ally mingle in the scanty conversation with an abrupt, almost
unintelligible word, spoken, moreover, in a strangely scornful
tone, would probably have made a perplexing nay, un-
pleasant impression upon anyone who saw him for the first
time. To poor Annchen, saddened and agitated by the most
sorrowful forebodings, the most terrible fears, he seemed
horrible, although she summoned up all her strength to con-
ceal her real feelings. This was much worse than she had
feared, and she had dreaded the doctor, and often, half in
jest and half in earnest, called him her beloved Lebrecht's
Mephistopheles and evil genius. Was he, who, according
to Lebrecht's declaration, could detect the most secret
thoughts in people's minds, now reading her soul, while,
wherever he walked and stood, he kept the spectacles that
glittered like coals in the firelight fixed steadily upon her?
Was he enjoying her terror, which assumed more and more
tangible form, ever increasing when her timid glance wan-
dered to Lebrecht, from whose handsome face the quiet
serenity that formerly so bewitched her had vanished forever
nay, who, as he sat there gazing so silently into the coals,
seemed to have aged ten years, scarcely to be her beloved,
adored Lebrecht?
But, to be sure, Lebrecht doubted himself nay, was
almost in despair. Bertram really need not have used so-
many words or been so pathetic to show him that he had
committed an act of folly and cowardice ; that, if he were no
brainless, heartless creature, he must at least speak now;
53
German Mystery Stories
that every moment he suffered to elapse aggravated his
horrible situation. Yes, yes, yes! he was determined to
speak; he repeated again and again the words he wanted
to say, and then hoped these words would suddenly utter
themselves, and shrank from the terror he would feel if they
did. In Bertram's presence? It was impossible! He
would do it the moment Bertram was out of the door. Why
didn't he go? Why was he rushing about with his long
legs between husband and wife, who had the most important
things to tell each other, and with his diabolical gestures
and looks secretly challenging him to do his duty? He
would do his duty, but not under Bertram's spectacles. And
then he thought how he had anticipated the moment in
which he should make his friend and his wife, the two
dearest beings he had on earth, acquainted with each other,
and this dull, embarrassed, torturing interview was that
ardently-desired moment !
" Have you no more patients to visit this evening, Adal-
bert ?" he asked.
The doctor stopped, looked over his spectacles at his
friend with a scornful smile, as if he wanted to say, " You
haven't the courage yet, mon cher," and silently continued
his walk.
" I had hoped the doctor would take supper with us to-
night," said Annchen.
Bertram bowed, at the same time slightly shrugging his
narrow shoulders, so that it might have meant equally well,
" I thank you," or, " I am very sorry, madam ! "
" To be sure, there will still be a slight delay," Annchen
continued, hesitatingly. " Frau Uelzen says she can't have
it ready before ten o'clock, at which hour she expected us ;
it now "
" Lacks five minutes of being a quarter past eight," said
the doctor, first glancing hastily at the clock, and then
gazing fixedly at Lebrecht ; " but it occurs to me that if you
really want me to stay here, madam, I must excuse myself
for a short time the shortest possible time, Lebrecht."
" So you must go to your patients ? " said Annchen.
54
Friedrich Spielhagen
" Heaven forbid ! " replied the doctor ; " perfectly healthy
young fellows, clerks from the counting-house. They were
to meet at a quarter past eight at Mother Ihefeldt's our
great restaurant, madam to rehearse once more an octette
they have been practicing the words by myself mellow
with a glass or two throats somewhat hoarse by respect and
expectation. They won't leave the place until I go for them,
and, as a compassionate man, which I am, I wouldn't like to
leave them sitting there all night. So excuse me for five
or ten minutes, and a rivederci!"
The doctor approached the side-table, on which, at his
entrance, he had laid his hat and cane. Lebrecht, who had
just ardently wished him away, felt a chill run through his
veins. If Bertram went, the moment was there ; the secret
that oppressed his breast and closed his throat must be
spoken. Could not the chalice still remain undrained for a
time only a little respite, the few miserable hours that
would be left to him if Bertram stayed?
"Why should you trouble yourself?" said he. " Nebe-
low would attend to it just as well."
" He could probably attend to it, but not so well," said the
doctor, stretching out his hand towards his hat.
" Poor young fellows ! " said Annchen, " they have un-
doubtedly been anticipating it. It's too bad that we have
deprived them of the pleasure, and ourselves."
"If it will afford you pleasure, madam," said the doctor
hastily, " they will come at any moment."
Lebrecht trembled. Bertram evidently did not trust him,
and this was nothing but a trick to bring about the situation
which would undoubtedly cause the discovery, and which
he had therefore avoided with so much care to thus indi-
rectly force him to an explanation, that must of course be
made before the young men came. He would not allow
himself to be forced, and would not be a plaything in Bert-
ram's hands.
" Pardon me, my friend," he said, " if I enter a protest
and send Nebelow to positively decline the attention. It is
very painful to me to have spoiled the young fellows' sport r
55
German Mystery Stories
but I don't see how the matter could be improved in this
way. Such a thing only has meaning, it is only pleasant,
when done at the right moment."
Lebrecht had risen and touched the knob of the bell, push-
ing aside, with a pressure of his strong arm, Bertram, who
was already standing at the door.
" So you will not ? " said the doctor in a low tone, and
then, turning to Annchen, added aloud : " At the right
moment ! That is certainly the principal thing ; woe to those
who lose the right moment."
" But it is now lost again ! " cried Lebrecht, throwing
himself lazily into his chair.
" Every moment can be made the right one nay, will only
become so by being seized," said the doctor with a scornful
smile. " To be sure, the right moment requires the right
man."
" Perhaps I'm not the right man."
" At least not at this moment."
" In none in your eyes ! Pray, speak out ; I'm accustomed
of old to such friendly criticisms from your mouth."
" Then they ought at least no longer to surprise you, as
they appear to do," said the doctor. " I have the honor,
madam "
" Stay ! " cried Annchen.
She had started up and taken a few hasty steps towards
the doctor. "You must not inflict this sorrow on me. It
is the first time I see you with my Lebrecht, and would you
part from him in anger? Must I suppose that I am the
cause of a quarrel between two such old friends? I "
A feverish flush suffused her cheeks. She passed her
hand over her brow and eyes, and in a quieter tone, with a
smile upon her lips, with which her fixed, anxious eyes did
not exactly harmonize, continued:
" No, no, dear Herr Doctor ! you must stay. Lebrecht
is right, too; there will not be a pure tone to-night. And
then " she had turned towards the table and was smooth-
ing the cover, which the doctor had pushed aside in his
moving to and fro, " and then I should really be embar-
56
Frledrich Spielhagen
rassed by so many visitors, whom I ought not to send away
without entertaining. Frau Uelzen would probably do her
duty, and there is no lack of wine, but an entire, almost
entire, deficiency of silver. So so at least Frau Uelzen
said, and that my usually careful Lebrecht "
She was still standing at the table, turning her back to the
two men. During her last words the doctor had placed him-
self opposite to Lebrecht and was glaring down at him
through his spectacles, while the latter answered the mute
invitation with a defiant smile and, interrupting Annchen
with a calmness that enraged Bertram, said:
" Has lost the key of the closet. That is perfectly correct ;
and also that it would be very troublesome to open the door ;
Annchen knows that, and enough of the matter! Isn't
that so, Annchen ? "
" Certainly, certainly ! " said Annchen ; " just as you
please."
" Certainly, just as he pleases ! " cried the doctor. "Poly-
garchy is objectionable. One must be master! An excel-
lent motto ! a jovial motto ! Ah ! that old rogue of a Homer !
that ironical rogue."
The doctor seemed to have entirely forgotten that he had
just intended to go, as well as Lebrecht that he had rung for
the servant. They again sat around the fireside as before,
only no one spoke a word, and no one seemed to notice the
long pause which yet oppressed all like a burden.
A terrible burden to poor Annchen. It seemed as if an
eternity had elapsed since, summoning up all her courage, she
had entered through yonder door; and yet scarcely half an
hour had passed. How should she bear it ? An eager longing
welled up hotly in her heart. " Lebrecht ! dear Lebrecht !
tell me! Now, now! humbly or angrily it's just the same
but all, all, all ! " And again the cry already on her lips
crept back to her dully-throbbing heart. It had happened
here, here ! within these thick walls, that seemed as if they
must stifle the angriest shout, the loudest shriek, and yet
had not stifled them to the listener at the door. Through
that second door he had fled, the angry man behind him
57
German Mystery Stories
through the salon through all the rooms, the magnificent
rooms, gleaming with gold and silk, through which she had
first walked in the half-dusk and just now in the dazzling
light of the lamps and candles the sleeping-room to the
window !
A long-drawn, wailing sound, as if from some huge trum-
pet out of tune, suddenly roused her from her terrible
fancies.
" Merciful Heavens! what's that?"
" An old acquaintance of ours," said the doctor " Capell-
meister Northeast. He always toots first in the narrow
Rathmus alley, to try whether he's in the right tune; then
the whole orchestra joins in. There it goes already ! Isn't
it magnificent music, madam ? and costs nothing."
" Except at the utmost a few window-panes or ships," said
Lebrecht, making a violent effort to join in the conversation.
" Apropos of old acquaintances," continued the doctor,
heeding Lebrecht as little as if he were sitting alone with
Annchen by the fireside, " do you know, madam, that you'll
meet an old acquaintance here? At least I may be per-
mitted to infer so from the man's hints and the very unusual
interest he seems to take in you and your husband."
" An acquaintance, and an old one, and here in Woldom !
How is that possible ? "
The doctor was not perfectly sure that the young wife
knew what she was saying ; her large dark eyes looked fixed,
as if her thoughts were elsewhere; but he was not talking
for her, but Lebrecht, although he seemed not to notice him.
" How is it possible ? You must thank the great sower
called the Government, who scatters the priceless seeds of
his treasured intelligence over all countries, even our dreary
sand-downs, on which, to be sure, usually such costly plants
do not thrive."
"You make me curious," said Annchen, with the same
fixed, vacant stare.
" Certainly not so curious as the man I don't know
whether by nature or profession is. Lawrence Sterne
one of my saints, madam would have numbered him among
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Friedrich Spielhagen
the most inquisitive travelers, in possession of a ticket that
gives him a legal right to all family mysteries and secrets
within a circuit of ten miles for the space of six weeks. The
commission he holds here as chief of police ad interim lasts
no longer; then he goes to the Ministry in Berlin, where
there is a larger field for such talents. Meantime, as I said,
he hasn't been idle. He knows everything. I'll venture
to say he knows we're sitting here together and of whom
we are talking."
"If we only knew of whom you were talking!" said
Lebrecht.
" He's very enthusiastic about you both," said the doctor,
still addressing Annchen ; " he calls it the greatest sorrow of
his life that he was obliged to leave Cologne a week before
your wedding, and thus was prevented from glorifying the
entertainment by his presence and poetry, in which latter
field, to judge from his own statements, he is superior to
Goethe and Schiller."
" So it's one of your many adorers, Annchen," said
Lebrecht.
The doctor was vexed at the sneering tone in which
Lebrecht had made the remark, that seemed to have deeply
wounded Annchen. She had suddenly started up in her
chair, then sank back in it again as quickly as the burning
blush had appeared and vanished in her cheeks.
" Undoubtedly," said he ; " it is the privilege of the sun
to be worshiped by many by the just and unjust, giants
and pygmies."
"Of course, the little humpbacked assessor," said
Lebrecht " Frank, or whatever the repulsive fellow is
called."
" Von Frank Oscar von Frank," said the doctor. " The
description agrees, except the repulsiveness, which is a
matter of taste. Do you, too, think him so repulsive,
madam ? "
" He has been intimate in my parents' house for years,"
said Annchen.
" He boasts of it," said the doctor, " and his regret that
59
German Mystery Stories
he can only continue the pleasant custom in your home so
short a time is, therefore, all the deeper."
" I think he won't continue it at all," said Lebrecht. " I
hate the man."
" Could that, perhaps, be mutual ? "
The doctor suddenly dropped the satirical tone in which
he had hitherto spoken and turned to Lebrecht.
" In all seriousness, mon cher, I believe it is the case, and
that the very unusual activity which the gentleman in ques-
tion has developed in a certain affair from the first moment
of his presence here we were just talking of the matter
when you came in, madam ; Lebrecht will probably tell you
about it by no means has its source in friendly sympathy
and kind desire to aid, as he pretends, but, on the contrary,
flows from the very impure spring of a deep, but not suffi-
ciently concealed, hatred. At least, the man's behavior made
this impression upon me. I wanted to tell you so, and warn
you to use caution towards the smooth hypocrite, but, to
my satisfaction, I perceive that the warning would be un-
necessary. What is the matter, madam ? "
The eager doctor had noticed as little as Lebrecht, whose
blood buzzed in his ears at this abrupt mention of the odious
story, that Annchen sat, deadly pale and almost fainting,
pressing her hand upon her heart, and the two men were
equally startled by her convulsive sobbing.
They sprang from their seats, but Annchen had also
already risen, smiling, and by a wave of the hand beseeching
her astonished companions not to be alarmed.
" Pardon me," she said ; " it's nothing, really nothing at
most the fatigue of the journey. No, you mustn't go,
doctor ; on the contrary, you see I am making as much haste
as possible to belong to the list of your patients. Only such
attacks, thank Heaven! don't last long with me only a
moment, I assure you. Certainly, dear Lebrecht, it's already
over entirely over. I believe I only want something to
eat. We are fasting, my dear doctor, and you're certainly
hungry, too. I'll look after the supper; you needn't be
afraid, Lebrecht, that I shall interfere with your Frau
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Friedrich Spielhagen
Uelzen; she shall reign undisturbed, at least this evening.
Are you laughing, doctor ? I'm really not quarrelsome, like
some people."
She held out one hand to the doctor, who, bending his fall
figure very low, pressed it to his lips.
" You are a glorious woman," said he. " I must make
this confession, even if the jealous Lebrecht should forbid
me the house for it, like the unfortunate chief of police."
" You would talk the blue out of the sky to-day," said
Lebrecht, forcing a smile, and then added angrily to the
servant, who had just entered:
"Where have you been? I rang for you half an hour
ago. You must what have you there ? "
" Just delivered," said the old man in his hollow voice,
holding out a telegram to his master with a trembling hand.
" Well, then, give it to me! " cried Lebrecht impatiently.
He had approached the table and scrawled his name below
the receipt. " Here ! and come back again at once, do you
hear?"
" The old man is drunk again to-day," said Lebrecht,
opening the dispatch. " I shall be obliged to send him away,
sorry "
" What has happened ? " cried Annchen.
She had noticed how Lebrecht, after scarcely a glance at
the sheet, changed color. He did not answer immediately.
" For Heaven's sake ! " cried Annchen, " tell me.
Mamma is sick, or papa "
" What ! Sick ! They are coming this evening."
Annchen uttered a cry of joy, hastily seizing the paper
Lebrecht had dropped on the table and reading the contents
aloud, as if her ears must come to the aid of her tear-dimmed
eyes.
" ' Mamma half dead with longing to see you ; hoped to
meet you to-day in Berlin. Coming by express train.
Please send carriage to station for mamma. Have king's
bowl ready for me; will brew the drink myself. Bring
Lisette with us.' (That's my maid, doctor.)
" ' Your Old Papa/ "
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German Mystery Stories
" Oh ! how happy I am. Oh ! how happy I am."
She kissed the sheet again and again amid streaming
tears.
" I believe you, madam I believe you," said the doctor,
with a reminiscence of the favorite character of his favorite
author; and then, in true Brasig style, added in a low tone
to Lebrecht, who with frowning brow was standing beside
the great table as if rooted to the earth : " Keep your nose in
sight. Will you speak now?"
Annchen had not understood the words, but, low and
quickly as the doctor had spoken, caught the whisper. The
black veil was again about to fall over her joy; she threw
it resolutely back.
" Now, quick ! quick ! " she cried. " You must excuse
Lebrecht. And me I'll go with him. No, that won't do;
it will be better after all if if What was I going to
say?"
The doctor, with a sympathizing face, watched the young
wife, who now seemed to him doubly beautiful, and in her
joyful excitement evidently scarcely knew what she was
saying.
" Perhaps you were going to say whether it would
not be better if I brought your parents from the
station?"
Annchen and Lebrecht looked at him at the same time,
Annchen surprised, Lebrecht startled.
" They can't escape me," continued the doctor quietly ;
" the night train is never crowded, and even a less practiced
eye would instantly discover such distinguished persons.
Lebrecht and you could then quietly make your preparations
together."
" How kind you are ! " said Annchen again, holding out
her hand to the doctor.
" On no account ! " cried Lebrecht.
" Why on no account ? " asked the doctor, over his
shoulder.
"What would our parents think? Impossible! And
what preparations should I have to make?"
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Friedrich Spielhagen
" Are your parents-in-law to eat with tin spoons ? " said
the doctor, releasing Annchen's hand and stepping between
her and Lebrecht, so that the former saw nothing of the
half-scornful, half -threatening grimace he made the latter,
and which Lebrecht answered with a more defiant than
embarrassed look and the sullen words :
" It will do so "
" Said the pitcher till it broke ! " cried the doctor vehe-
mently. " What do you say, madam ? "
"It will do," said the latter very gently. "In case of
necessity we might in the neighborhood "
" Very seemly for the king of Woldom ! " growled the
doctor.
"I say, only in case of necessity; but, dear Lebrecht,
papa and you you have so often spoken of the old silver
bowl, and that your first drink should be out of it, and papa
expressly requested if it were possible "
" Here no resistance avails," sang the doctor in horribly
false notes.
Lebrecht felt like a hunted stag that no longer sees any
way of escape, and therefore resolves to fight. He would
run the risk and see whether Bertram would venture.
" There is no question of resistance," he said, " but a
simple impossibility. The bowl is, of course, in the closet,
too."
" Which is in that wall," replied the doctor. " Send for
Peter Hinrich ; he'll open any lock for you in five minutes."
" Except this ; I know it."
" In plain German, you won't give your father-in-law this
little pleasure."
" If I could."
" Man can do what he wishes."
"Well, then, I won't!"
" You ought to have said so at once."
" What kind of a key was it ? " said Annchen.
"Dear me! I've already told you," exclaimed Lebrecht.
" A large, old-fashioned, very oddly-shaped key of the fif-
teenth or even fourteenth century, such as no longer exists
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German Mystery Stories
or can be procured. I even remember that years ago old
Hinrich once worried for hours at that lock."
" Then go," said Annchen, " or my poor parents will find
no one at all at the station."
" There's plenty of time yet," observed the doctor " a
little after nine a full hour. We can drive there in ten
minutes."
" And the horses must be harnessed," said Lebrecht ;
" besides, we want a second carriage for the baggage. I'll
bring ours at the same time, Annchen. Is there anything
else?"
" No, thank you," said Annchen.
The tone cut Lebrecht to the heart. She surely did not
suspect why he refused so simple a request, and that he
would have given one of his hands if he had not been com-
pelled to deny her wish and everything were already told.
But surely it was not yet too late. Bertram was going; he
himself could then, under some pretext, remain or return
before he drove away. Perhaps it could best be said in a
pinch.
" Will you go with me, Bertram ? Nebelow doesn't come
back; perhaps the message is incorrectly delivered. There
will be a misunderstanding."
" Certainly," said the doctor ; " anything except misunder-
standings. I have the honor, madam "
The two men moved toward the door.
"Doctor!"
Bertram turned. " At your service."
" I wanted to ask you something about mamma, dear
Lebrecht; ladies' affairs; nothing that will interest you,
Lebrecht ; mamma's old trouble. I know she'll begin about
it this very evening and never forgive me for not having
at least prepared our friend for such an important matter.
Could you stay a few minutes, doctor?"
Lebrecht ground his teeth. So it was not to be.
" I won't interrupt you then," said he. (f Au revoir."
He was out of the door, which he closed behind him.
The doctor had his hat and cane in his hand. He was
64
Frledrlch Spielhagen
furious with Lebrecht and furious with Annchen, who, in
the usual feminine fashion, without the slightest suspicion
of what she was doing, thought she might chatter away in
nonsense moments on which life and death depended. He
was just going out of the door with a " Sorry, madam ; an-
other time," when the young wife, who had stood as if listen-
ing, rushed up to him, and, putting her hand on his arm r
exclaimed in anxious tones, " Don't go ! Don't go ! I must
speak to you ! "
" Ah ! " said the doctor, " you must speak to me. That's
quite a different matter. Pray sit down again, madam.
What is it?"
HOWEVER, the doctor did not seem at all curious to learn
the matter in question. It was not about the mamma; so
much was plain. So Frau Uelzen had told the secret.
Lebrecht had not feared in vain, had not exaggerated; she
was indignant at the affront offered to her distinguished
ancestors on the mother's side under her eyes, as it were,
of a von Klungel-Putz, whom a strange chance was now
bringing to be present at her daughter's disgrace. Even the
sudden appearance of an old acquaintance a friend who
had been intimate in the family for years seemed to have
greatly startled her. Of course, it was one witness the more
of the cruel injury. And now she was going to open her
heart, so filled with shame and sorrow, to the friend, since
she dared not to the husband perhaps did not even think it
worth while to show her scorn to the man she despised.
During the whole preceding scene she had been a pattern of
matrimonial coolness and reserve. But she need only quar-
rel with Dr. Adalbert Bertram. He understood how to
drive out devils ; among others, even the devil of arrogance.
She need only come to him.
While the doctor, with each long stride that he took up
and down the room, plunged deeper and deeper into the
error which friendly zeal and a firm belief in the infallibility
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German Mystery Stories
of his powers of observation had lured him, poor Annchen
had long since lost the desperate courage with which she had
detained him. What had she done? What did she want?
Confess to this gloomy, disagreeable man the tortures she
had suffered ever since she entered this house, in constantly
increasing proportions, until her heart could no longer con-
tain her terror? The horrible dread of a horrible thing,
which she dared not think, which she did not think no, no !
with which she struggled as a sleeper struggles with the
nightmare that oppresses him. It was surely only a horrible
dream, from which she would awake if she could only once
cry out, call for help. Help! Help!
But the cry did not cross her quivering lips; instead of
that, somebody said it must be herself, only that the
voice seemed like a stranger's, and appeared to come from
the end of the room :
" It isn't on my mother's account ; it's about Lebrecht, who
is so strange, so out of humor of late and this evening
on the long journey and now here just now. My
parents my kind old father he has always been so fond
of him, so very fond; they have so often joked about it
why why "
The strange voice was silenced by a sob ; but the sob came
from her own breast, and these were her tears which trickled
through her fingers, which, sinking into a chair, she pressed
upon her burning eyes.
The doctor looked at the drooping figure in astonishment.
Did she really know nothing? That twice repeated, trem-
ulous " Why " really did not sound like a person who knew,
far less like an angry one. Was the beautiful young lady
only nervous from the journey, annoyed, alarmed by her
Lebrecht's strange conduct? Did she only desire an ex-
planation, which Frau Uelzen had not given, which he
But he, who apparently had just erred so greatly, wanted
firmer ground this time, so he said :
" Why Lebrecht did not grant you the apparently trifling
favor about the bowl do you want to know that, madam ? "
She nodded. "Yes, yes; that too."
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Friedrich Spielhagen
"That too! So there's something else?"
" No, no ! " said the anxious Annchen, convulsively clasp-
ing her fingers and gazing up at the doctor with fixed, staring
eyes.
Should he tell her ? The opportunity was favorable. She
seemed gentle, agitated ; perhaps feared that Lebrecht would
vent upon her parents the ill-humor so unintelligible to her ;
that her parents, to their surprise and terror, would find the
new marriage already shadowed by mysterious clouds ; and
he could say, " That is it ; and now rush to your Lebrecht,
when he returns, and whisper in his ear, with a kiss, * I know
all,' and you'll see how, in the twinkling of an eye, he'll be
the old Lebrecht again."
No, he could not say it. Lebrecht had snared himself in
this net like a clumsy lion ; he must also have the power to
rend the bonds ought to owe his deliverance to no helpful
mouse. That would be a bad service he would render him.
Love forgives much, but will not pardon cowardice; and
this, which unfortunately bordered upon, or was already,
cowardice, would remain so in the eyes of this beautiful,
aristocratic lady if he deprived Lebrecht of the chance of
trampling the loathsome worm with his own feet.
But he could do this : show her the loathsome worm as it
appeared to Lebrecht's eyes a horrible dragon. He could
try to place her at Lebrecht's point of view, inspire her with
the necessary respect for the monster. This he could do,
and he would.
He again laid his hat and cane on the table, sat down in
one of the low armchairs opposite Annchen, and, slowly
rubbing his sharp knees with the palms of his hands
and fixing his glittering spectacles upon the anxious wife,
said,
" I don't know whether from reading English Tauch-
nitz's edition, madam you are familiar with an expression
which not rarely occurs, especially in Thackeray, who is
also one of my saints: the skeleton in the house?"
Annchen started, but the odd man was surely smiling at
the disagreeable question. How could he have smiled, if it
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had not concerned one of his strange jests? She answered
haphazard :
" I remember having read the expression, and that I did
not know how to apply it."
" That's just it," said the doctor, smiling still more de-
cidedly ; " there must be an idea connected with the words ;
but we'll first follow Mephistopheles' advice and ' keep to
the words.' Skeleton, madam, skeleton that sounds so
horrible in unaccustomed ears. Of course. The skeleton
is what remains after the fair, blooming flesh has become
earth again the end of love, so to speak. ' Even if the song
does not sound divine/ we wish to know nothing about the
end; and when a bold young rake drinks his champagne
out of a skull it only gives one charm the more to the greedy
tongue. Don't you think so ? "
" It may," murmured Annchen.
" It does, believe me ; and, besides, the matter is perfectly
simple, intelligible to a child's comprehension. Death is
never a welcome guest, and so we don't particularly love
his grinning counterfeit, yet still find nothing unseemly in
it where it belongs ; at the utmost, if we happen to be Hamlet
and hold Yorick's skull in the hand, utter a few melancholy
comments very disparaging to the value of life.
" But let us suppose, madam, that the witty prince had
lived, become king, and grown fatter and wittier. Would
not his humor have wholly vanished whenever afterwards
he had to pass a certain staircase in the palace, though a
certain garrulous old gentleman had long since found his
legitimate resting place in the Pere-la-Chaise of Elsinore?
A 'skeleton in the churchyard, madam, is as harmless as a
rat in the cellar or a sword in the sheath; but a skeleton
under the back stairs that's like a rat behind the tapestry.
Out with the sword, and dead for a ducat ! Do you under-
stand that, madam ? "
" Certainly, certainly," murmured poor Annchen.
" Why shouldn't you ? You ladies have so keen a per-
ception of what is suitable ; a misplaced bow, a ribbon whose
color does not harmonize with that of your dress such
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Friedrick SpielHagen
trifles can drive you to despair; and a skeleton under the
back stairs! Oh, dear! And yet another thing will not
have escaped your penetration ; that the object of the terror
in the above case no longer existed, and, I might add, need
no longer exist, if it were once there; nay, nay, I'll go
further: it is by no means always an osteological object,
perhaps not even visible to the senses any more than the
mathematical point, which no mortal eye has perceived, and
yet around which the whole world turns. You are no
mathematician, madam? No? That's of no consequence;
we're not discussing mathematics, but morals aesthetics,
if you choose in which women are always superior to us.
Only keep to the spot, madam the spot which we need only
qualify by a single epithet, in order instantly, as if it were
a proof to our example, to obtain the best possible transla-
tion of the English expression, ' We have the dark spot.' "
The doctor had removed his spectacles, and was cleaning
the glasses with a yellow silk handkerchief. This would
have been a great relief to the poor Annchen, as the uncom-
fortable man was at least obliged to take his hands from
his knees; only now, with his staring, grayish-green eyes,
with their inflamed lids, he still more decidedly resembled
a lunatic. Had she to deal with a veritable madman, who
was only displaying his eccentricities to her to hear himself
talk ? Was there in this nonsense a terrible meaning, which
he did not like to utter plainly ? She wanted to cry : " Speak
out ! " but it seemed as if her mouth was closed ; and then
the disagreeable man already had his glasses on his hawk's
nose again, the palms of his hands were again busily rubbing
the sharp knees, the diabolical smile again played around his
lips, and he continued to speak with the strange rapidity in
which there seemed to be not the smallest pause for reflec-
tion nay, scarcely to take breath amid the rushing words.
" But the best translation, madam, rarely gives the full
meaning of the original ; it sometimes says too much, some-
times too little ; in our case, too much. Our dear metaphori-
cal skeleton is, to be sure, always a dark spot; but every
dark spot is by no means a skeleton. There is a dark spot
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in every individual existence nay, the individual concerned
may be glad if there are not several, and I've known people
tattooed like a New Zealand chieftain. There is even no
family that has not its dark spot a son who must have
constant remittances, a daughter who runs away with the
music-teacher ; but all these things bear the same relation to
the real skeleton as acute diseases to chronic suffering. The
skeleton is a chronic, conservative, nay, more, an exclusively
aristocratic affliction. One human life is not sufficient to
fully mature it; it absolutely requires generations genera-
tions, madam, with uninterrupted historical traditions. Can
we wonder that the disease was first noticed, studied, classi-
fied, and named in England, the land of hereditary wisdom
and traditional folly, hereditary virtues and hereditary vice,
worm-eaten old family-trees and old rat-haunted houses
that in England was made the interesting discovery: every
skeleton must have an old house, and, vice versa, every old
house must have a skeleton ? "
During the last words the doctor had pushed his spectacles
down so far that Annchen's face was visible to him over the
brims. It was pale, perhaps even a little paler than before,
but, as it seemed to him in his over-zeal, by no means with
an expression of anxiety, scarcely of intense expectation.
" You must hear me conjure more strongly," thought the
doctor, and continued :
" There is a horrible legend, madam, that there were times
when men took the second part of our thesis literally and
walled up an innocent child in the foundation of a new
house, which was to become an old one. Although I credit
the barbarous Middle Ages with every ghastly thing possible,
I will suppose, for the honor of humanity, that this never
happened ; we rather have to do with a bit of the poesy of
the people that sought a symbolical expression for an often-
noticed experience.
" But the experience was that a house rarely or never
became old what in one sense is synonymous rich and
powerful, if some one were not first found who sacrificed
for it his innocence, or to explain it more logically
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FriedrlcH Spielhagen
brought a sin upon it. Perhaps not in his opinion. The
worthy man whose roof was falling over his ears probably
thought it quite right to saddle his horse and lurk among
the bushes by the highway, until with the booty lowered
into the castle keep, and there transformed into purses of
gold, he could build, in the name of God, a fine castle.
The estimable valet who could only gratify a sovereign
whim of his fiery young master at the expense of his family
honor certainly did so only in usum Delphini that is, for
the advantage and benefit of his dear grandchildren, who
wanted to live, and, God willing, should live, better than
their kind, indulgent old grandpapa.
" But the dear grandchildren, madam ! Do they thank
the kind grandpapa for the sacrifices made for them ? Why
yes ; they build a chapel over the place where the booty was
once let down in the dead of night into the castle keep ; but
the weak-nerved ones cannot be married or baptized in the
chapel without thinking that under the stone pavement on
which they kneel lies the skeleton of the house. Perhaps
the portrait of the daughter-sacrificing Agamemnon is taken
from the line of ancestral portraits, because the story ended
too horribly ; but whenever there is dancing in the old hall,
through the quavering of the violins and the growling of the
bass viols the skeleton immured behind the thick gold
brocade on the wall rattles audibly. You are looking at the
clock, madam ; it's more than a quarter of ten, and there is
Lebrecht just driving out of the yard. It always makes a
thundering noise in the narrow street ; Lebrecht really ought
to have it macadamized. You see we have an ocean of
time, and I would be only too glad to show you some more
specimens from my collection of skeletons, which are per-
haps the most interesting of all, though they can't compare
in romantic horror with the first ones, possibly even do not
lack a touch of humorousness. Let us take, for instance,
the following case: there is a great mercantile house that
has its connections in all the countries of the known world,
whose ships sail on every sea, that only reckons by hundreds
of thousands; and this great firm has in a side-wing do
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German Mystery Stories
you think a merchant's house can have no skeleton ? Pardon
me, that is a totally false idea, which I forgive the born
aristocrat, and for which I have perhaps given cause by my
distorted description. Think of the royal merchants of the
Middle Ages, the Fuggers, the Welsers, and others, who
probably in their palaces paid little heed to the noble foot-
pads in their robbers' nests. And such an old house doesn't
even need to be a palace ; it only needs to stand long enough
and be occupied by one and the same family a family of
doctors, we'll say, to take an example from my profession.
The grandfather had been a doctor, the father of course;
the son is also one. But the great-grandfather, who built the
great house, was a barber by trade; and because he had
built the said house, as it were, on his shaving-basin, he
commanded in his will that the said basin should not only
forever ornament the front in the most conspicuous place as
a sign, but the barber's shop should never fall to ruin on
the contrary, be kept up till the end of all things ; and each
of his successors and heirs, on pain of losing the whole rich
house and its business, even were he ten times doctor medi-
cine? and ^Esculapius in person, must continue the barber's
business in his name nay, have been taught it, if only for
a month, and used the ancestral razor. You can probably
imagine, madam, how the man, one of the foremost in his
department, feels with a brain full of comprehensive plans
and the barber's basin in his coat-of-arms the basin about
which he has been forced to hear countless gibes in the
course of his life, which has actually made his entrance into
certain prominent corporations towards which his ambition
soared impossible nay, instilled into his soul, otherwise
frankness and goodness incarnate, the venom of distrust,
nay, cowardice ! "
For the first time in his long speech the doctor made a
real pause. He had even ceased to rub his knees, and, with
his long neck stretched forward, was gazing at Annchen,
waiting for a reply, some remark that would show she
understood him, that she at least suspected what he
wanted.
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Frledrich SpielHagen
"Pardon me," faltered Annchen; "but I think I must
look out."
The doctor felt like a person who runs against a closed
door where he expected to find an open one. He who, so
far as he was concerned, wanted the young wife to under-
stand everything his concealed allusions, his sudden transi-
tions, his horrible pictures found she did not understand,
that she had scarcely heard and certainly not grasped the
meaning of his last words, that at this moment she only had
one desire: to escape from a situation which she felt she
could not endure much longer. To him she was simply the
spoiled young lady, the proud princess who, rolling over a
smooth course in her chariot of victory people may say
what they like can form no idea of the pitfalls a malicious
fate digs for other mortals who must walk over the rough
earth. And with these thoughts, which darted through his
mind with the speed of lightning, a hot wave of blood rushed
to his brain, and from his brain to his heart, and in that
heart welled up a fiery hatred against this young, beautiful,
proud creature, who had come here only to forever rob his
beloved Lebrecht of rest and peace, to bring into this old
house for the whole future unhappiness and ruin. Suppose
he told her this?
It only lacked a little provocation and the passionate man
would have done so. And now the force he was obliged
to put upon himself, in order not to burst forth into words
which would have permitted no misinterpretation, increased
his ill-humor, as a rider in anger drives his spurs into his
horse's flanks till it dashes over hedges and ditches.
"Only a moment, madam," he cried; "only wait until
I have told you what part the dear little wives play in this
pathology of the skeleton in the house. You will then learn
that these Graces, with their velvet-soft, innocent deer-eyes,
and white, rouged nixy-hands, only too often, almost always,
are the original source of the outbreak of the trouble ; that
they, above all, are the cause that first makes the evil malig-
nant and dangerous, and renders what might otherwise
be easily endured insupportable. To the original possessor
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German Mystery Stories
the skeleton is always surrounded by the breath of antiquity
to men ; often enough he has it in his own blood and bones,
and lets it stay there, simply because he could not get rid of
it, perhaps would not even desire to do so, like Philoctetes
with his hurt, to which he had become accustomed, and to
suit which he had arranged his life, thoughts, and feelings.
Bon!
" And now the young wife comes into the house. She
is not our flesh and blood, does not know how the skeleton
pinches our flesh, riots in our blood. She only finds it a
horrible or ridiculous thing; she has no reverence for the
skeleton, she is only afraid of it ; she has no sympathy with
the skeleton, she is only ashamed of it.
" And this, madam, is the best, the very best case ; and
well for the young husband who was wise and brave enough
to say before the marriage : ' Between such and such stairs,
behind such and such a tapestried wall, lies the skeleton
of my house, and it is constituted so and so ; and now marry
me, if you have the courage/
" Less loyal, but still prudent enough, will be the conduct
of the cunning Bluebeard who, in some happy hour of love-
making, mentions the skeleton en passant. It isn't of so
much consequence ; still, he will warn the charming Phyllis,
when she is once Madam Bluebeard, at the risk of her sweet
life, against putting her inquisitive little nose into a certain
room in such and such a tower, and this is the key to it, and
the key is eighteen-carat gold. For you see, madam, if the
young lady does not choose to listen, and plays with the
golden key until some fine day the door springs open, and in
her terror she begins to lament over the horrible spectacle
and make her dear husband's life uncomfortable why,
Bluebeard has studied Hegel; the punishment is the law
that follows wrong-doing, and down with the pretty, im-
prudent little head !
" But, madam, the case which is a thousand, ten thousand,
times worse, worst of all nay, even fatal is when the
dear Phyllis knows nothing, suspects nothing, because she
has no eyes to see, no ears to hear, and asks her beloved
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Friedrich Splelhagen
husband to show her the silver treasure, the precious silver
treasure, in the old closet, of which she has lost the key.
And the husband, who frankly tells himself that the matter
must be told some time, unlocks the closet, and the family
treasure is doubtless there, sparkling and glittering, but on
the treasure sits the skeleton, rattling and grimacing : ' My
best greetings to you, my darling; you and I now belong
together, for you probably know you have married me with
the old house/ '
And as the doctor, suddenly starting up and pointing with
his meager, outstretched hand, shrieked these words in his
most disagreeable throat-notes, a gust of wind raged around
the house, which it seemed to shake to its very foun-
dations. The storm had probably found a chink in one of
the rattling shutters; a terrible wailing, moaning note
echoed through the room, and with this note mingled a
shriek.
Annchen had uttered it; she was standing before the
doctor, an image of horror, with pale, quivering lips and
clasped hands. " In the name of God's mercy ! what is in
the closet?"
" Why," said the doctor, " I've already had the honor to
remark: the famous bowl, et cetera, inclusive of the
skeleton."
He made one of his grotesque bows, and, taking his hat
and cane, was moving towards the door when he suddenly
felt his arm seized by a trembling hand.
" I I first Frau Uelzen and then through the door
your last words : He must tell me all ! Is it does it con-
cern Hans Fliederbusch ? "
The doctor passed his hand across his brow.
What had he done ? The possibility, nay, probability, that
Frau Uelzen might have gossiped in the meantime the
factor that he had just counted upon to Lebrecht as a very
important one was left out of his own calculations as if
it had not existed. And she had heard his last treacherous
words, too! Was the secret betrayed? Impossible! She
would have put her question differently ; she would not have
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German Mystery Stories
been in this terrible anxiety. Heaven knew with what
marvelous story the old gossip had unsettled her brain.
Was it wise to set her right ? Was it not more prudent to
let her grope for a while longer in the darkness that
shrouded Hans's flight nay, if possible, increase the gloom,
so that the discovery of the real secret would afterwards
seem like a sunbeam?
" Yes, yes," said he ; " Hans Fliederbusch, the wild fellow
as you know, he has caused us a great deal of anxiety,
still does so. He has probably scarcely broken his neck;
but a man drowned is also dead. To be sure, he was a
cat, and young cats don't drown so easily. We must wait
we must wait."
And as the doctor could not reach his knees, by way of
variety he stroked his long, thin chin with his long, thin
fingers.
" So Hans Fliederbusch is not not the skeleton ? "
" I haven't yet inquired into it ; however, what is not
may be. I've already told you that such a skeleton requires
time plenty of time."
" What is it then."
" Ah ! madam, if I ought or wished to tell you I should
have done so long ago. A doctor, you know, must have
very rigid principles in these matters. I never meddle in
family affairs, and from my discourse it must have become
evident to you that a skeleton is an extremely exclusive
family affair. Besides, you I mean you and Lebrecht
are in that last-mentioned, worst, most delicate case, which
by the bungling interference of a third person may have
a fatal result. I shall avoid being this third person.
Lebrecht will take charge of the matter. Heretofore, with
the key to the old closet, he has also lacked the necessary
courage. Let us hope that at the right moment he will find
both key and courage."
"I I have the key!"
" You you have ! and you say it now say it to me ! You
have concealed it from Lebrecht, and Lebrecht is making
a mystery to you of a matter to which you have the key !
76
Friedrich Spielhagen
Upon my honor, that is the most amusing thing that has
come in my way for a long time."
And the doctor laughed, laughed loudly, only it sounded
more like the hoarse cackling of an old hen than human
laughter.
A deep flush suffused Annchen's face to the delicate
temples, and, lowering her long lashes on her burning cheeks,
she said in a low, trembling voice that gradually grew firmer :
" It's very wrong of me, I know, but I meant it for a
joke, I assure you. In Verona (I believe it was in Verona)
before our departure Lebrecht had gone out I wanted
something from his trunk: a guidebook we missed, and
which I knew he must have. I couldn't find it, and at last
took everything out to the bottom, and on the bottom I
found the key wrapped in a pocket-handkerchief. I assure
you it was to be a jest; I meant to ask him, casually,
whether "
" Whether it was the key to his heart? " asked the doctor
with a sympathizing glance at the beautiful, embarrassed
young face.
"Yes, yes!"
" And that he must take better care of it in future ? "
"Yes, yes!"
" You see I, too, understand a little about affairs of the
heart. Go on! But let us sit down again; we can talk
better."
He offered the trembling Annchen his arm with wonder-
ful grandezza and led her to the chair by the fireside, taking
his old place opposite to her. His voice was no longer
scornful as before, his expression no longer sarcastic; he
even let his hands rest quietly on his knees.
" You meant to give him back the key as soon as you
came here ? "
" Yes, yes ; and therefore put it in my box, to have it at
hand, and then forgot it. During all the last part of the
time Lebrecht's manner made me so anxious he was often
so gloomy, so absent I thought he "
Several large tears welled from under the dark lashes.
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German Mystery Stories
" Did not love you as you desired, as as you deserved ? "
The doctor had seized and pressed Annchen's hand.
" I have endured such torments ! " said Annchen, sobbing.
" I was always asking myself what I could have done to
forfeit his love. No, no! he loves me, does he not? He
loves me? But he wasn't happy, and it was I who made
him miserable. Just now, when I was yonder, before Frau
Uelzen came, I sat by the fireside, as I sit here. I pondered
over everything again, and always lingered over the same
terrible thought : ' You do not make him happy ; you never
will ! ' Then Frau Uelzen came, and talked and talked.
I scarcely heard her, until I don't know how it happened
she told me of the evening before Lebrecht's departure, how
she came out of the kitchen "
" Heard the quarrel, etc. I can imagine how the old
woman kneaded and dressed the puppet. And then you
remembered the key ? "
" She had talked so much about the closet "
" The nonsense people say about it ! You don't really
believe that?"
"No, but I thought it so horrible, so frightful, and I
wondered that Lebrecht had told me nothing at all. Of
course, it was only in order not to alarm me, but it would
have been better. I wanted to rejoice that I had found a
motive for his ill-humor, but could not do so. My heart
remained oppressed, I knew not why. I took out the key
to give it to him. Frau Uelzen had said he had lost the
key to the closet, and I was sure that it was this very one.
Then I came through the rooms, to that door Herr Doctor,
Herr Doctor, have pity on me! What all must Lebrecht
tell me ? What is in that closet ? "
She had slipped from her chair to his feet, her hands
clasped over her beautiful bosom, her large, tearful, brown
eyes raised beseechingly to him. The strange man's pas-
sionate heart throbbed hotly. She was so beautiful, so
dreamily beautiful, like one of the forms his enraptured
eyes beheld in the hours of the night when the Muse with
light hand touched his throbbing temples! Had not what
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Friedrich Spielhagen
he just told Lebrecht really happened : " She will in her
trouble turn to other men " ? Should he let the fool rush
to his destruction? Should he
He had long since raised the kneeling figure and pressed
it back into the chair ; and now, after having paced up and
down the apartment with his longest strides, approached
her.
"You see, fair lady, I would fain give my finger no,
that can't be, on account of my profession but I would
give much, very much, if Lebrecht had been the wise hus-
band number one on my list and told you of his secrets at
the right time. I fear this right time is over. But how-
ever that may be, he, and he alone, must tell you; I dare
not, and you are far too wise to play the clumsy part of
Bluebeard's inquisitive wife. As to the skeleton itself, it
belongs to the last category of those most horrible by their
absurdity. And as for that silly Hans "
" I am troubled only about him," said Annchen, in a hasty,
anxious tone. " If you can assure me that there is nothing
in it ; people are saying such horrible things "
" Gossip, madam, gossip ! "
"But they dare to do so! And they will dare so long
as the young man remains absent. O God! if he should
stay away if he should be dead, the horrible event never
cleared up, the horrible suspicion He is suspected.
I gathered it from the housekeeper's confused words."
" The stupid old woman ! "
" And when you spoke just now of Herr von Frank you
did not do so unintentionally ; you wanted to warn Lebrecht."
" But, madam, warn of what? "
" Of the machinations of the man who whom I have
mortally offended, who has vowed vengeance on me and on
Lebrecht, and who will avenge himself where and as he can."
" I didn't know that," said the doctor ; " but it explains
much much. What is the cause, if I may ask? Or let it
pass; I see it is painful to you."
" No, no ! " cried Annchen ; " you must know. Perhaps
I have been too harsh ; but the hateful men they were all
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German Mystery Stories
so hostile to Lebrecht, my Cousin Arthur and the others,
and especially Herr von Frank. And Lebrecht, he let
nothing be noticed he's too proud for that but I saw
he knew that they joked about him behind his back about
his name, which isn't very beautiful and I was horribly
afraid he would fly into a rage, for he can be very angry.
And I was told that there was a poem by Herr von Frank,
a friend. "
" Of course," said the doctor.
" It was horrible a parody on Heine's ' Lorelei/ and
ended :
" This hath Herr Lebrecht Nudel, the King of Woldom, done.'
I was furious. I took the first opportunity on the steamer,
went up to him, and said "
" Ah ! madam, I don't envy him in anticipation."
" I said, ' People ought to beware of caricaturists, but
caricaturists must also beware ; kings have a long arm.' "
"Magnificent! And the man?"
" I had given him no time to answer ; but I learned
through my friend that he had sworn a terrible oath to repay
me; and now misfortune must bring him here at this
moment, when my parents, my poor parents my dear papa,
if he should hear of it and the assessor will attend to that
it will make such a bad impression upon papa that
Lebrecht won't open the closet. Won't he do so if I tell
him I have the key? Won't he?"
The doctor rubbed his knees.
" That's a doubtful question," he said. " Lebrecht has un-
doubtedly told your father that the king's bowl can't be used
this evening ; he would be placed in a very embarrassing posi-
tion, and I should not like to increase his perplexity, which is
already too great. You, too, madam, from a timidity I
understand, have missed the right moment. Suppose we
let the key, which, according to my sincere conviction, only
plays a symbolic part, morally considered, in this disagree-
able affair, remain lost. The real key is quite different, and
this Lebrecht may, and I hope to Heaven he will, find late,
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'Friedrich Spielhagen
but not too late for the true love that endures and forgives
everything. You have the key with you ? "
"Yes," said Annchen hesitatingly.
" I'll make you a proposal : give it to me."
" Here it is."
Annchen felt in her pocket and drew it out, wrapped in
the handkerchief. The doctor, who only wanted the key,
unfolded the handkerchief and was in the act of returning
it to her when he suddenly drew back his outstretched
hand and hastily thrust it into the side-pocket of his
coat.
"Is it blood?"
Annchen had spoken, in so low a tone that it seemed
almost a miracle the doctor should have heard. He had
really been able to read the words from the pale, trembling
lips because at the same moment the same question flashed
through his own mind.
" Only a chemical analysis could determine that," he said,
buttoning his coat and rising.
" It is blood ! " cried Annchen, sinking down in the chair
as if utterly crushed.
Dr. Bertram gazed compassionately from his height at
the drooping figure.
" And if it should be so," he said slowly, " and what has
happened will perhaps never be cleared up, because Lebrecht
himself I hope so, as I am his friend only knows the
beginning, not the end, of the matter? It is the evil will
that makes the criminal not the act; and therefore in the
eyes of friendship Lebrecht can never be a criminal. Would
he, could he, ever become one in those of love ? "
" Never ! never ! never ! " cried Annchen, clasping her
hands.
" Whatever has happened ? "
" I love him ! I love him ! "
" And may God bless you ! "
The doctor took a step and paused again.
" I know he will ; take courage. In the Middle Ages
marriage was denied those who gave themselves to the
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devil; for love, Wolfram von Eschenbach says, is every-
where except in hell. But marriage is the highest purity
of love, and he who walks in its light goes on the way to
sanctification. Only God often leads His saints by strange
ways. The lover would fain make the May breezes milder
for the woman he loves; and she, for his sake, defies the
autumnal storm, and, if it must be, goes through fire and
water for him. Once more, I hope there will be no neces-
sity ; and once more, God bless you."
The noise of the door first warned Annchen that the
doctor had left her. She started up ; she ought not to have
given him the key. She wanted to call him back, rushed
towards a door; but it led into the dining-room, and when
she reached and opened the one into the entry it was too
late. The house-door was just closing with a crash that
echoed through the lofty space like distant thunder. Then
it grew still, and she, leaning against the jambs, listened
breathlessly with a throbbing heart and murmured : " I
ought not to have given him the key."
VI
THE doctor was deeply moved by the scene through which
he had just passed. Full of the most sincere admiration
for the beautiful young wife and the greatest anxiety about
his beloved friend, he had walked mechanically, stepping
slowly down the stairs, to the lower entry, and reached the
door, which he held open, irresolute whether to turn back
and undertake the investigation of the suspicious closet
himself or go on and declare the bad case, in whose man-
agement he had so strongly interfered, to be hopeless, when
a gust of wind snatched the door from his hand and closed
it behind him.
:< The confounded wind ! " he cried furiously.
" It's a bad night," said a hoarse voice beside him.
" Holloa ! " cried the doctor.
" It's I Kabelmann."
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Friedrich Spielhagen
" What are you looking for here ? Has your wife grown
worse ? "
"Heaven forbid, doctor !"
"Well?"
" I've to ask you to come to the Herr Assessor on
official business."
The doctor involuntarily made a movement towards the
handle of the door, though he knew it had locked and was
not to be opened from outside. So, in order to gain time
for consideration, he said :
"What is it, Kabelmann? Is it Frau Ledebur? I told
the Herr Assessor the poor woman would be crazy
if he tormented her much longer with darkness and ques-
tions."
" It's not about Frau Ledebur, Herr Doctor ; she is now,
owing to your intercession, in Number 7, where she at least
has air and light ; and she has had hot food to-day, too, and
told me herself : ' Kabelmann, I owe this to the district
doctor ; he ' it was a very bad word, Herr Doctor * he
would have left me to rot on the straw.' It's " (the police-
man, who towered above even the tall doctor half a head,
stooped and said in his hoarsest tone) " I ought not to
say it, but you won't betray me, Herr Doctor, I know it's
about Herr Nudel and young Herr Fliederbusch."
The doctor tried to laugh, but only accomplished a cough,
which the wind drove back into his throat.
" You know something, Kabelmann ; you needn't an-
nounce it officially, but the devil ought to take your Herr
Assessor."
The policeman pushed up his cap and scratched his short,
stiff hair.
"Oh, yes! Herr Doctor; I'd have no objection, and the
devil is in it, too; and if he once gets anything'into his head
he has no rest day or night till he knows all about it, and
now he knows."
" Nonsense ! " said the doctor. " He's crazy ! "
" Yes, yes, Herr Doctor ; for aught I care he may be
crazy, too, and I wouldn't grudge him Number 24 rather
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than Frau Ledebur if it were not for that confounded
closet."
A cold chill ran through the doctor's veins. " So he
knows that, too ! "
" He didn't find it out from me," continued the policeman
apologetically, " though I might have told him, for I know
the house like my own pocket, and the closet up in the corner
room, where the late senator lived, who kept his documents
in it. I've moved them in and out often myself. One day,
when I was standing before it, he said : ' Kabelmann, what
do you think ? How many thousand thalers have I brought
out of the hole in Gallows Hill?' 'Why, Herr Senator/
said I, ' who believes that ? ' ' Kabelmann believes it, and
the whole city/ he said, and then laughed, and I laughed
too, for he was fond of his little jokes. But Nebelow swears
through thick and thin that the Herr Senator could go out
of his room without opening a door, and has probably said
so to one and another. ' Don't talk about it to the Herr
Assessor, Nebelow/ said I; and he didn't when he ques-
tioned him about the closet upstairs of which people were
speaking. Well, Herr Doctor, I have really said nothing
to him except always, ' It's only stupid gossip, Herr
Assessor/ and thought he would be satisfied with it, until
half an hour ago he rang for me, and was rushing around
his room, rubbing his hands and saying, ' Well, Kabelmann,
I know all about it; and at ten o'clock, when Herr Nudel
comes back, we'll examine the closet to see if we can't find
something that will please his young wife.' ' Why, Herr
Assessor/ said I, ' Herr Nudel's been back ever since eight
o'clock, and has just gone down to the station again to get
the old people ; ' for I had talked with Nebelow, Herr Doctor,
whom Frau Uelzen had sent to Senator Zingst to get some
silver, because Herr Nudel had lost the key to the closet;
and I told the Herr Assessor so, and that the Herr Doctor
was with the young wife. Then the Herr Assessor laughed,
just like an old ape, and said, ' Has he lost the key? We'll
try to help him look for it a little/ And I must go and tell
the Herr Doctor, 'You were to come at once, the Herr
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Friednch Spielhagen
Assessor had urgent business matters to discuss with you/
and there you were, just coming out."
The doctor, much as he would have liked to get away
quietly, let the old man finish ; now he turned up his coat-
collar, saying, " Very well, Kabelmann ; in an hour, tell him ;
I've really no time now."
He took a step forward ; the policeman remained standing.
" You can't do it, Herr Doctor ; it's no use. He sent
Martin to the station at once ; he's not to leave Herr Nudel,
though without letting Herr Nudel notice it. I heard him
give the orders myself."
" Ah ! then wait a minute ; I'll be here again directly."
The doctor grasped the bell-handle. The policeman shook
his head.
" Don't do it, Herr Doctor. Nebelow isn't there ; it might
be a long time before the door would be opened, and I have
the strictest orders to bring you without delay. I wonder
already that he hasn't sent again."
" Then say you didn't find me I had already gone."
" I can't, Herr Doctor ; I must answer for it on my oath
of office. I'll tell you what, Herr Doctor, come with me;
perhaps he'll hear reason, if you talk with him, and let the
matter drop, at least until to-morrow. The poor young
wife ! the very first evening it's too horrible. To be sure,
it will be all over to-morrow."
" But, Kabelmann," cried the doctor, " you're a sensible
old fellow; do you really believe that a man kills another
without cause and then travels quietly away and gets
married?"
" Why, yes," replied Kabelmann. " He probably had
cause, and probably he hasn't felt very quiet, but everything
else has happened before, and even far more curious things.
But now come, Herr Doctor, it's high time."
The doctor reflected. It really seemed best for him to go.
Even if he should not convince Herr von Frank that his
suspicion was groundless and how could he do so? how
many damaging circumstances might not the man's keen
nose have already scented out ? he had one weapon in case
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of necessity : he could say, " I know the personal motives
by which you are urged on in this affair " a weak weapon,
indeed, against so malicious and dangerous a man, yet he
must see what could be accomplished with it.
Dull sounds echoed through the storm-lashed air from the
steeple of the neighboring church. Quarter of ten ! In half
an hour, at latest, Lebrecht would be there with his parents-
in-law, and the young, pale, beautiful wife
" Now then, Kabelmann ! " said the doctor, passing out
of the deep doorway where this conversation had taken
place, along the front of the old gable-roofed house, past
the little narrow street, towards the Rathhaus.
The old policeman followed silently.
Meantime the doctor's departure had not remained un-
noticed in the kitchen regions. Dorthe, who had already been
standing a long time at the little window through which a
portion of the gallery and staircase could be overlooked,
dropped the curtain, and, turning to Frau Uelzen, said :
" Well, at last ! Now go in and ask what I'm to cook."
" I won't stir from this place," replied Frau Uelzen,
slowly twirling her thumbs; " if the lady has time to chatter
an hour with the doctor, instead of attending to her house-
keeping, it's all the same to me."
" Why, that's what you're housekeeper for," said Dorthe ;
" and a young wife always has something particular to say
to the doctor."
" Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Dorthe ? Such a young
thing! "said Frau Uelzen.
" Well, I wasn't born yesterday," said the girl, laughing ;
" people know how things go on in the world ; and I must say
I like her."
" I don't buy a cat in a bag," said Frau Uelzen, with a
philosophical look at the shining tins on the large kitchen-
dresser.
" She doesn't look a bit like a cat now," said Dorthe.
"She has such kind, earnest eyes, and she is so beautiful,
with such a slight, graceful figure. And how her brown
traveling-dress fitted! Ah! Frau Uelzen, there's nothing
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Friedrich Spielhagen
like it in this country; even Frau Senator Zingst can't be
compared with her. She might be a little more lively; it
could do no harm. Dear me ! when I think of it so young
and so beautiful and so rich, and a young, rich, handsome
husband!"
" I thank God that I'm not in her skin," said Frau Uelzen.
The girl laughed loudly. " That would be hard, Frau
Uelzen," she said.
"We shall see," said Frau Uelzen; "I've been here
longest."
" You say so, Frau Uelzen."
" I don't say so ; it is so ! " replied Frau Uelzen eagerly.
" A person who has lived with so many employers as I
knows when the pot has a hole, which in brushing it out will
be found. It's just the same here as at Baron Grieben's,
where I was housekeeper five years. He married young
Countess Piistow, and not a week had passed when he shot
himself in his own bedroom, for his young wife slept at the
other end of the castle. And " (Frau Uelzen drew her chair
a few inches nearer and said in a mysterious tone)" he had
six toes on his right foot ; the woman who laid him out told
me so herself."
" Merciful Heavens ! " cried Dorthe, clasping her red
hands, " didn't she know it ? I mean, what was the young
wife?"
Frau Uelzen evaded the question by continuing in a mys-
terious whisper:
" There was Herr von Lindblad, from Sweden, who
married the youngest of the twelve Passelwitz frauleins,
and to whom old Herr von Passelwitz gave Randow, because
he was completely infatuated with him. And one day his
first wife, from whom he had run away, came from Sweden,
and sent in her name "
"Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! what people!" cried Dorthe.
" What did the poor wife say I mean the second one ? "
" What did she say ? She said nothing at all, but ordered
the carriage and took her two little children the youngest
wasn't six months old ; but the other had brought some too,
German Mystery Stories
real tow-heads and drove back to Passelwitz, and now she
is living in Lundin."
"And you think our master has a wife hidden away?"
asked Dorthe.
Frau Uelzen smiled scornfully. " Worse things happen,
Dorthe ; and I say when the old people come a week earlier
than they intended, and send a telegram, and the master
turns as white as chalk when he reads it, and we have no
silver for the company, and he has lost the key and won't
have the closet opened, there's a reason for it, I say, and
Nebelow says so too."
" And you both ought to be ashamed of yourselves," cried
Dorthe angrily ; " for it isn't right, when one's living in a
house, and has lived in it so long, and something happens
in the house, nobody knows what, to let the folks in the
city talk with them yes, and even say worse things till
it makes the hair of a poor girl who has lived here six weeks
stand on end, merely because Herr Fliederbusch has run
away and I certainly liked him when he was always the
wildest fellow at Mother Ihlefeldt's; but now I wish he
might get as many thrashings as he has been days away ; then
he'd probably come back."
" As for coming back, he won't fail to do that ; he has
already announced himself twice this evening," said old
Nebelow, who, unnoticed by the two angry women, had
entered the kitchen.
"If you say such a thing again, I'll scream!" cried
Dorthe.
"Announced himself! Where? When? How? Speak!"
exclaimed Frau Uelzen.
The old man had dropped the box he carried under his
arm on the dresser so that some of the spoons rolled out,
and, sinking into the chair from which Frau Uelzen had
started in her first fright, sat there with shaking knees,
while his bloodshot, watery eyes stared fixedly at the stone
floor.
" Speak out ! " cried Frau Uelzen again.
" Or I'll scream ! " exclaimed Dorthe.
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Friedrich Spielhagen
" Let him come to his senses first," said Frau Uelzen.
She had taken a bottle from the kitchen closet and filled
a small glass, which she held under the old man's nose. He
took it with a trembling hand, then emptied it at a single
draught, cleared his throat, and, still staring at the floor,
said in his hollow voice:
" It was about seven o'clock, an hour before the master
and mistress came. I was below, asking the young men if
they didn't want to shut up, on account of the singing at
ten. And Bohm, the shoemaker, was there, telling them that
the Herr Assessor sent for him yesterday, showed him a
pair of boots, and asked if they were Herr Fliederbusch's
boots, because he has always worked for Herr Fliederbusch ;
and Bohm said, * Yes, those were his boots and where did
the Herr Assessor get them?' And the Herr Assessor
began to laugh very spitefully, and said ' that didn't concern
him ; he knew enough now, and he could go.' And we were
talking it over, and Herr Schmidt was lighting the lamps,
because it was already growing dark, and saying, * How
could anybody swear to boots made three months ago? and
he scarcely knew how Herr Fliederbusch looked, and it was
only six weeks since he disappeared ; ' and I was looking
towards the window, wondering whether I really remem-
bered, and there was his face peering in at me between the
two loaves of sugar, so that I spilled half my rum, and when
I looked again it was gone. Give me some more, Frau
Uelzen."
The housekeeper willingly filled his glass for the second
time ; the old man drank, cleared his throat, and continued :
" I told Kabelmann this just now as I passed the Rath-
haus, where he was standing in the doorway, and Kabelmann
said, * He's stone dead, and the Herr Assessor found the
boots himself among the pine trees on Gallows Hill Martin
was with him and he went straight to the place, as if he
had scented them like a pointer, Martin says; and,' said
Kabelmann, ' he'll find it out. Only hold your tongue about
the closet; I'll do so too, then it won't be we who brought
him to the gallows/ 'Why, where shall I say anything?'
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German Mystery Stories
I answered. Well, so I went on to the Zingsts and asked
to borrow a dozen spoons, because company was coming and
our master had lost the key to the closet. The Herr Senator
looked at his wife and the wife looked at the Herr Senator
they were just sitting down to dinner and the wife got
up and brought the spoons, and looked at me, and never said
a single word, nor I either; and I was still thinking it over
as I crossed the market-place, and the rain beat into my face,
and I struck my umbrella against the door of the house.
'Are you drunk, Balthazar Nebelow?' I said to myself,
shutting the umbrella. ' Nebelow ! ' said a voice beside me."
" Nonsense ! " cried Dorthe.
" Hush ! " cried Frau Uelzen. " Herr Fliederbusch ? "
" I ask that too," said the old man " Herr Fliederbusch ?
For it was just as he used to call out from the counting-
house window across the courtyard when they wanted to
know whether the master had gone out, that they might get
to Mother Ihlefeldt's an hour earlier. Then the voice called
again, ' Nebelow ! ' so that I almost dropped the handle ; and
just as I was opening the door something came up and an
ice-cold hand seized me behind by the neck, and for the third
time "
A terrible rushing and rattling did not allow the old man
to finish; flames a foot long darted out of the fire; dense
clouds of smoke followed, filling the kitchen. Dorthe, who
during the old man's terrible story had entirely lost her
courage, screamed shrilly and fell upon her knees, covering
her face with her hands and continuing to shriek when a
hand, which she took for Frau Uelzen's, was laid upon her
shoulder, until a voice, that was not Frau Uelzen's voice,
said, "What is the matter with the girl?"
Dorthe remained on her knees, and, stretching out her
clasped hands towards her young mistress, exclaimed amid
convulsive sobs:
" I can't help it ; I struggled as long as I could, and always
said, ' It's a sin and a shame to tell such things about our
master ; ' and I don't believe them, madam I really don't."
" Rise, dear child," said Annchen.
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Friedrich Spielhagen
The girl rose from her knees and went to the hearth, half
turning her back upon her mistress, suppressing her sobs
as well as she could, and terribly perplexed as to what she
ought to answer if the lady asked her why she had screamed
so, and what she didn't believe.
But her mistress seemed to take no further notice of .her,
only asked in a perfectly quiet voice, at which Dorthe won-
dered greatly, whether it often smoked in the kitchen, and
what spoons those were in the box, and who had given
orders to get them. Frau Uelzen was then obliged to
answer that she had done so because the master had gone
away without leaving anything behind, and she didn't want
to disturb her mistress, and the company couldn't eat without
spoons.
To this Annchen made no special reply, only asked
whether the table was laid, and for how many. Frau Uelzen
might be kind enough to take her to the guest-rooms, which
she would like to see before her parents arrived, although
she was sure that nothing would be lacking.
With these words Annchen left the kitchen, taking Frau
Uelzen with her.
Frau Uelzen had a feeling that her mistress, who had had
a very different look in her eyes and spoken in a very different
tone, was very angry, and determined to anticipate the storm.
" To be sure, she ought not to make her responsible if dis-
agreeable rumors were going about the city nay, she had
said just now that people's tongues wouldn't be stopped, and
now her mistress had heard it with her own ears. But how
can it be otherwise, when the Herr Assessor is actually
plotting to deprive the master of honor and reputation and
God forgive him the sin ! bring him to the gallows ? She
hadn't wanted to speak of it again, in order not to trouble
the young wife, who had just come into the house. How-
ever, after all, it was very well that she should know it and
tell the master what he had to expect from the Herr
Assessor, that he might beware of him in time, for in a
little city, it is said, ' trust whom ? ' And when a person
who, next to the Herr Burgermeister, was the chief in the
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German Mystery Stories
city, and always wore polished boots and yellow kid gloves,
went himself in the horrible weather to Gallows Hill to look
for a pair of old boots, and afterwards sent for Bohm, the
shoemaker, to swear that they were Herr Fliederbusch's,
she should like to ask the mistress whether such a person
could be trusted across the street ? "
It had been extremely unpleasant to Frau Uelzen that
while she said this, standing at the end of the room smooth-
ing the beds and arranging the pillows, her mistress, who,
turning her back upon her, stood at the window, did not
utter a single word in reply, and in consequence of this she
had said more and used stronger colors. But how she
started when Annchen, suddenly turning, showed her a face
as white as the curtains that fell on the right and left of her
figure, and so rigid that even the large brown eyes did not
move ; and now, with the white face and fixed eyes, walked
past her to the door, that had remained open, and there,
without looking back, said, in a tone that did not sound at
all as if she were speaking, " If I am wanted, I shall be in
the master's room."
Frau Uelzen was so startled that for several minutes after
her mistress had disappeared she remained standing in the
same spot as if nailed to the earth, and when she returned
to the kitchen gave Annchen's order to Balthazar, but in
reply to the questions of the old man and Dorthe as to what
it meant only answered, "If other people wanted to burn
their fingers, they might do so. For her part, she wouldn't
speak another word, even if her tongue were torn out of
her mouth with red-hot pincers."
But Annchen sat by the fireside in Lebrecht's room, with
her white hands pressed upon her white face, and before her
closed eyes the picture she had just seen, looking from the
window of the sleeping-room across the narrow street into
a room in the Rathhaus several feet below the one where
she was, and brightly lighted by a lamp suspended from the
ceiling and several candles placed upon a large table covered
with books and papers. But over this table leaned the little,
hump-backed figure of Herr von Frank, the gray silhouette
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Friedrlch Spielhagen
clearly outlined against the light background, gesticulating
with his thin arm to the doctor, who with bowed head stood
before him, stroking his chin with his hand, apparently
listening silently to the hunchback's eager words. And then
the doctor, in his turn, began to gesticulate with his long
arms, till it looked as if every moment he would clutch the
thick hair that grew low on the little man's forehead, while
the latter had crossed his arms over his breast and was listen-
ing with a scornful smile. And then Herr von Frank had
suddenly turned towards the table and touched a bell, upon
which a tall figure in uniform entered and stood behind the
doctor, while Herr von Frank, without sitting down, leaned
over the table and hastily wrote on a sheet of paper that
glittered like snow in the light of the candles. But the
doctor, without turning, had stretched his arm behind him
towards the man in uniform, who also put out his long
arm, so that their hands touched for a moment and then
separated, just as Herr von Frank put the folded sheet in
an envelope, which he addressed and handed to the officer,
who instantly walked to the door, out of the lofty vaulted
room, through narrow corridors, down a broad staircase into
the market-place, on whose high, gable-roofed houses flared
the lurid light of torches blazing on a black-draped scaffold
in the center of the square; and on the scaffold he was
standing, pale and sad, and, looking towards his own house,
stretched his arms to her : " You might have saved me, but
you let the key be taken from me, and now I must die."
And then came thick darkness, and from the darkness
flashed lightning like a flaming sword.
Annchen started from her horrible vision. Before her
stood the man she expected.
" I beg your pardon," he said ; " I was shown in here. I
am to present the Herr Assessor's compliments and hand
you this letter."
The old policeman's hoarse voice trembled, and the big
brown hand in which he held the letter trembled, and he
wondered that the little white hand that received it was so
firm and the beautiful young lady, who now approached the
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German Mystery 'Stories
table to read by the light of the lamp, remained standing
perfectly erect, read it quietly through, laid it on the table,
and then, turning to him, said calmly, " Very well, I thank
you."
The old man shook his head. "No occasion, madam;
and by your leave, madam I'm a good friend of your
husband and the doctor may I ask what the Herr Assessor
wrote to you ? "
" Only that he will come here in half an hour with the
Herr Doctor to pay his respects to me and my parents. We
have known him a long time."
And as she said this she smiled so strangely that an icy
chill ran down the old man's back. He said in a whisper :
"If you know him, madam, you will probably know how
to use the half-hour you perhaps still have, and what you
must do with the key the Herr Doctor secretly gave me."
VII
ANNCHEN did not move from her seat until the man had
closed the door behind him; then she darted to it as if on
wings, turned the key, flew to the second, which opened into
the dining-room, and a third leading into the salon, locking
both. Then she rushed to the table and seized the huge key,
shuddering as if she had touched red-hot iron. For several
minutes it seemed as if she would drop it, but she held it,
while her eyes rested on the letter lying beside it :
" Madam : An accusation made in this office an hour ago
in regard to a very sad affair the matter in question con-
cerns the hitherto unexplained, though not wholly traceless,
disappearance of a young man from your husband's count-
ing-housecompels me at least to partially search your
house this very evening. It really did not require the inter-
vention of Doctor Bertram, who is with me at this moment,
and, in his character of district physician, must attend the
search, to induce me to discharge my painful duty in
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Friedrick Spielhagen
the most considerate manner possible. This consideration
would, at any rate, be dictated by regard for the hitherto
unsullied reputation of your husband, the bearer of so dis-
tinguished, I might say illustrious, a name; by the warm
friendship that has bound me so many years to your family ;
by the sincere admiration I have always personally paid you
from a respectful distance. So you will permit me to mingle
in the joyful group at the moment your husband brings your
honored parents to your arms, as a quiet, interested guest,
who will linger behind a short time after your unsuspicious
parents have retired to rest.
" Madam, I do not say a word for myself. To attempt
apology here would be to accuse myself. It is my destiny
to displease you, but precisely because it is my destiny I must
endure it. There is a feeling which transcends every other :
the consciousness of duty.
" With deep respect,
" OSCAR VON FRANK."
" The consciousness of duty ! " murmured Annchen ; " I
will learn from this fiend." The key no longer burned in
her fingers ; she held it firmly in her right hand, and in the
left the candle she had taken from the mantelpiece. So she
rushed towards that corner of the room where the thick
walls, projecting several feet, must conceal the closet. The
doctor had also pointed towards this spot. Yet, flashing
the light up and down over the hangings of the dark yellow
leather, she could not find the keyhole. The seconds grew
to eternities. " Oh, God ! Oh, God ! " she moaned, " where,
where? Oh, God, help me. There!"
The key entered the lock.
And again the storm howled in that terrible tone through
the window close by which she now stood ; the yellow curtain
waved to and fro as if someone behind was moving it;
there was a clattering in the closet, as if bones were rattling.
"Oh, God! help me."
The doors sprang open, both at once. At the same
moment a large object directly before her fell, striking with
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German Mystery Stories
a dull sound on the thick carpet. It was probably a board
that had become loosened from the door. She noticed it as
little as the danger she had escaped. She did not even heed
the articles that stood in long rows on the shelves which
filled the right side of the closet from bottom to top the
tall candlesticks, magnificent vases, glittering heaps of
spoons, knives, and forks, the sparkling cups and tankards,
the huge bowl, a royal gift amid this royal treasure. What
did she care for it now? There on the left, in the vast,
empty space in one of the deep corners, where not even the
light of the candle penetrated, suppose she should wander,
grope her way onward, never again find the exit out of the
terrible gloom to the light of day. " Help me ! help me ! "
She had reached the opposite side. There was no open-
ing, only smooth walls covered with very old-fashioned
tapestry, where on wooden shelves lay and hung various
articles a few old saddles, bridles with silver ornaments,
whips and skates of the most varied forms, nets and rods,
hunting guns with their appurtenances, several pairs of high
boots evidently for Lebrecht's by no means small feet
" What are you looking for ? "
The voice seemed above her as she knelt on the floor at
the end of the closet, rummaging among the various articles
a gentle, vibrating tone, like divine accents. It could
be no human voice.
Poor Annchen clasped her hands, as she had done as a
child when she prayed fervently to her favorite saints and
fancied she saw the radiant image almost in bodily form
before her. Her trembling lips murmured a half -forgotten
prayer.
"Can I help you?"
The voice was behind her louder, firmer, a human voice.
And she had locked all the doors!
Annchen did not scream ; after what she had experienced
during the last few hours, and even minutes, she was steeled
against any earthly horror. She seized the candle, which
she had set on the floor behind her, and rising, turned.
But even to a more timid nature there would have been
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Friedrich Spielhagen
nothing horrible in the aspect of the young man who, now
brightly illuminated by the candle held high in her upraised
right hand, stood in the open door of the closet a hand-
some young face, with soft, brown waving locks, large blue
eyes twinkling roguishly, and a little dark mustache on
the quivering upper lip, beneath which the white teeth
flashed for a moment.
" Hans Fliederbusch ! " cried Annchen.
The handsome young fellow, bowing gracefully, clasped
both hands over his breast, and said, with downcast eyes,
which he instantly smilingly raised again: ;
"Of the race of the Asra, who die if the mistress does
not forgive."
It sounded so sincere and yet so comical. A cry of joy
burst from Annchen's oppressed heart, while tears gushed
from her eyes so that for a few moments she was fairly
blinded. And then she did not know how she had come
from the closet and put the candle out of her hand ; but the
young man was now kneeling at her feet, pressing her hands,
which he held clasped in his, to his brow and lips, and saying
over and over again, " Forgive me, dear, dear lady, and
plead for me to my kind master ! "
And then she was sitting in a chair because her knees
trembled, but now. with joyful agitation, and Hans was
standing beside her, talking and telling his story with won-
derful fluency, in his graceful, drolly-theatrical way, with
numerous gesticulations and many a half-suppressed laugh.
" How did I get into the house, madam ? Ten minutes
ago, close behind that old donkey of a Nebelow, who, out
of fright at a little trick I played him, left the door open.
Could I have found it easier? Then I glided cautiously
upstairs and reached the top just as you were going to the
guest-room with Frau Uelzen. Then I slipped into this
room and stood behind the curtains while Kabelmann
isn't he a fine old fellow? gave you the letter from the
Herr Assessor."
Here Hans had the greatest inclination to give way to
uncontrollable laughter, but before the beautiful, sparkling
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eyes, that seemed to be drinking the words from his lips,
he calmed himself and said:
" Oh, madam ! it's really too tempting when a person can
be so thoroughly deceived. Listen, madam. I've already
been here in Woldom three days, hidden at my friend Cap-
tain Martin's, who, on the night I took the salto morfale
out of the window into the garden, and then climbed by the
help of the old pear-tree over the wall one of my best
performances, madam, that nobody can easily imitate
received me on board his ship, which was lying in the
harbor, and sailed for Stettin that very night. And Martin,
good soul! has kept my secret faithfully. I haven't lacked
money once more through Martin and, between our-
selves, madam, I shouldn't have come back again so soon
if there hadn't been so much difficulty in acting; and that
everybody will find who, like me, has wandered for six
weeks with such a company of strolling players from town
to town and village to village of our beloved Pomerania in
this detestable autumn weather. A week ago the star that
lighted the bottomless paths for our poor chariot of Thespis
led us here to the neighborhood of Woldom; and whether
it was repentance that now came over me, or longing for my
dear master and the old business and old house, or whether
I already saw in my mind's eye the beautiful young mistress
who must soon enter the old house and would help me
beseech, if my own entreaties for pardon were not sufficient
enough, I shook the honest, not invariably clean hands of
my brothers and sisters in Apollo and hastened to the arms
of my friend Martin, who luckily had just returned from
his voyage.
" And now, madam, while I was on the watch with
Martin, awaiting the moment of meeting and reconciliation
with my beloved master, in Martin's two little rooms that
smelt strongly of tarred boots, I heard through him, to my
great delight, what marvelous stories of my disappearance
were in circulation throughout the city ; and how, to explain
this disappearance, even the tale of the fabulous passage
from the master's room here to Gallows Hill had been
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Friedrich Spielhagen
revived; and how the new chief of police had questioned
and taken the deposition of Crethi und Plethi, who might
know something about the matter, and thus roused the
whole city, until the oldest huckster-woman swore that the
master had killed Hans, dragged him out of his room
through the secret passage to Gallows Hill, and buried him
there under the pine-trees. Except the boots ! those he had
in some way forgotten, and right; day before yesterday
the Herr Assessor found them. We Martin and I had
put them there for him, under the last stone towards the
sea on the giant's grave; and the Herr Assessor couldn't
mistake, for one ' who knew about the matter ' do you
understand, madam ? and ' whose conscience reproached
him,' had described the spot exactly in a letter, whose con-
tents the evil conscience probably made so illegible and un-
orthographical. It was a capital joke, madam, to see them
march off with the old boots, and we were standing
near behind some big pine-trees, laughing fit to kill our-
selves.
" Then Martin, who in passing by this afternoon inquired
at the counting-house, heard that you would come by the
express-train; and the same unhappy person with the bad
conscience and defective spelling, I must confess to my
shame, wrote in the same doubtful hand to the Herr
Assessor that there was danger in delay, but if he (the Herr
Assessor) would have courage to enter the old house with
the returning master, and commence his search without delay
in the closet in the master's room, he wouldn't need to seek
long to find the skeleton in the house."
" The skeleton ! " cried Annchen " the skeleton ! "
" The expression was a little strong, madam, I admit, and
might for that very reason easily betray the whole affair;
but the ominous word came naturally to the writer's pen
because he had heard it so often from Dr. Bertram's mouth.
You have made his acquaintance, madam, and doubtless
heard it too. But, notwithstanding, it was possible that the
fox might enter the trap, and the person with the evil con-
science, who had been prowling around the house all evening
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ever since it had grown dark, had seen you and your husband
arrive, so long before the appointed time, and the master
afterwards drive to the station again to get someone."
" My parents," said Annchen.
" I thought so ; and while I stood at my post at the house-
door, and heard from the doctor and that good old soul of
a Kabelmann that the Herr Assessor hasn't even hesitated
at the skeleton I should have done so, madam, if I had
been in his place then my conscience really did reproach
me, and I saw I had carried the joke too far, and that, taken
all in all, it was a poor joke, the worse because one who
wishes to ask forgiveness should play no pranks at all.
And then it occurred to me that the young mistress, on
whose intercession I so strongly relied, even though her
husband had told her about the mad quarrel the evening
before the wedding-journey, and how we took the thing
yonder down and put it in the closet, and "
" What is that ? " asked Annchen, for the first time glanc-
ing at the long black board which just now, when she opened
the closet, had almost fallen upon her, and now lay as it had
dropped, directly at her feet, between her and Hans, who
had just pointed to it with his finger.
" Don't you know ? " asked Hans.
" Why, yes a board," said Annchen, laughing at the
odd expression that Hans's face assumed at the singular
question.
" Don't you know what is on the other side of the board? "
" As it isn't transparent "
" Oh, Heavens ! " cried Hans, " Oh, Heavens ! is it possi-
ble ? He has told you nothing about it up to this day, up to
this hour? He has concealed it from you so long, so long
he who usually lives and ought to live in a crystal palace,
because his heart is pure as the heart of the water "
" What is it ? " asked Annchen, whose heart, in spite of
Hans's mad declamation, began to throb anxiously. " I
wish to know."
"You wish it really wish it? Well, then, madam, be
kind enough to go back a few steps, or you won't get the
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Friedrick Spielhagen
perspective for which it is intended. I'll kneel here no
longer for myself; it is for my dear master-. Oh, pitiful
fate of kings! You will see the veil withdravm \ftom' the
secrets of majesty by my hand."
He had placed the board on the long edge/ ^
" What does this mean ? " asked Annchen.
" Good Lord ! Good Lord ! the letters are big enough,"
murmured Hans between his white teeth.
" I intended to say, what does this joke mean?"
Hans dropped the board, but backward, so that the
inscription remained uppermost, sprang to his feet, and
exclaimed :
"Joke, do you call it? Joke! cruel woman, joke! A
thing that has almost broken my kind master's heart! A
joke on account of which he nearly killed his most beloved
and faithful servant! A joke, poor, unsuspicious lady!
Haven't you read the date in the left corner, 1654, and the
words in the opposite one ' Renovatum 1854 ' ? Reno-
vatum, madam, means ' renewed/ ' restored,' ' freshened up '
by old Herr Senator Lebrecht the First, King of Woldom,
who on his death-bed entreated Lebrecht the Second, if he
valued the parental blessing that builds children's houses, to
let it hang as it had hung for two centuries, yonder under
that window. And Lebrecht the Second let it hang, though
when he assumed the government, with by no means clear
conscience and Jesuitical cunning, he barred the shutters
even in the narrow Rathhaus street until that night. And
he said to me here in this room, by that table, which was full
of empty bottles, and the hour for ghosts was approaching
' Hans/ he said, ' the people in the house with the plate-
glass windows and flower-decked balconies yonder in the
holy city by the waves of the Rhine do not know that here
in Woldom, on the shore of the Baltic, every huckster-
woman gets her half-ounce of coffee and every cobbler's
apprentice his salt herring at the King of Woldom's/
'Well?' I said. ' She wouldn't marry me if she knew it/
' Let her go, then/ said I. Madam, don't set the horrible
crime down to my account ; I hadn't seen you. So he only
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smiled contemptuously. And now came the story of his
sufferings : -how he thanked God that you at least didn't
find his 'namft it's yours, too, now, madam, and the rose,
it is. said and -so I'll say no more; and how he didn't have
courage to 'add to the treacherous name you understand
me, madam? the fact too; and how he had continued to
offend by letting day after day and week after week elapse
without confessing what, as he firmly believed, would make
a marriage with him impossible, if not in your own divine
eyes, in those of your relatives and friends; and he must
now continue to offend, and should do so, he knew, up to the
moment when, driving across the old market-place, you
would see the sign. * Then come in the night/ said I. ' It
would threaten me through the deepest darkness like charac-
ters of flame/ Madam, don't be vexed with me, but he
really seemed half out of his senses ; for my part, I was at
least quarter-part so; and thus, three-quarters crazy as we
were together, it was done. But, I swear it, only by my-
self. I had the clever idea ; I took it from its old hooks ; I
put it there in the closet, somewhat clumsily, as I saw after-
wards I was almost frightened to death, you poor, brave
lady and put the key in my pocket. ' For/ said I, ' it
might be that the King of Woldom would pluck up the
necessary courage, which so long as I have been in his
service he has never lacked, and would do me the favor to
write to me to hang it again, in the darkness and rain, in
the old place, and then let other people rack their brains
about how it got away and came back again and if he didn't
pluck up the courage '
" I looked into his eyes, his handsome blue eyes, madam,
and saw that he wouldn't that he would defer until the
very last moment the revelation so terrible to him.
" And now, madam, when I saw the strong man so weak,
the King of Woldom so helpless, the tempter came to me
and whispered, ' Now he must do now he must give you
the permission for which you have begged, in jest and
earnest, a hundred times : to be allowed to show an aston-
ished world that Garrick, Talma, and Ludwig Devrient were
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Friedrich Spielhagen
miserable bunglers in comparison with Hans Fliederbusch,
the only real actor ! ' And now, madam, he whom I thought
I had in my pocket would not consent. I entreated he
refused; I pleaded he laughed at me; I grew angry he
called me a fool ; I defied him he forbade me once for all,
so long as he was my guardian; and I I, pitiful rascal I
threatened threatened to betray my master. I swore by
all that was sacred. I wasn't in earnest, and should never
have done so; but the heavy Burgundy, dear lady, and the
late hour! I was certainly terribly unmannerly, and de-
served the soundest thrashing, let alone the one blow he, I
know, only gave by mistake when he struck me over the head
with the key he had snatched from me. But his hand is
heavy, and the blood gushed from my nose and I fell for-
ward over the table, which in the fall I upset with everything
on it. And he was kneeling beside me when I it can't
have lasted long recovered my senses, and had my head
on his knee, and he was saying kind, loving words ; but
good Heavens, madam ! I was drunk and I started up in a
fury. ' You have struck me ; we are quits ! ' ' Hans, you
must stay ! ' ' I won't! ' ' You shall! ' Well, madam, I
first became sober in Martin's cabin, and we were already
ten miles out to sea, and it was too late."
VIII
" AND I say and repeat," cried the Assessor in a low,
thin, but remarkably clear voice, " I have done and am
doing nothing that you would not also have done in my
place. The young fellow did not come out of this room
alive that is as clear to me as the sun in the heavens.
Where has he remained? Yes, my respected sir, I racked
my brains over that for five weeks, until this evening the
amazing accusation, which you prefer to call a clumsy
mystification, was made. Well, we'll see what there is
in it. A corpse isn't thrown into a closet and left there
six weeks. Granted, for more than one reason. I don't
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believe in the secret passage, either, but I know the arrange-
ment of this house thoroughly, from an old plan of the
building which our city architect found in the recorder's
office for me. The walls are thick enough to allow a secret
dungeon, or something of the sort, behind or under the
closet, which I had long suspected. There ! the closet must
be in that projecting corner by the window. You see how
thoroughly I am informed, though I've never been in this
room before. And what has become of the sign the sign
that hung under the window until that night, and during
that night disappeared ? "
" What the devil has that to do with the matter? " cried
the doctor.
" I don't know," said the assessor, rubbing his low fore-
head ; " I only know that when I came to Woldom I first
learned, to my no small amazement, of the existence of an
open shop in this house ; that this state of affairs existed at
the time Herr Nudel was in Cologne wooing his bride ; and I,
who, as an intimate friend of the family, was tolerably
familiar with everything, never heard the slightest word of
allusion to it, and most fortunately for the lover. From
what I know of the family, and especially the mother, this
little concealed circumstance would have rendered his
marriage impossible. The young fellow was his intimate
friend; the young fellow and the sign vanished the same
night. Really, that rouses very strange thoughts perfectly
new combinations. You are laughing, of course."
" I'm not laughing ! " cried the doctor, who was at the
other end of the room.
" But somebody laughed here ! " said the assessor, who
was standing directly in front of the closet.
" Then the devil may have done it ! " screamed the
'doctor.
He did not feel inclined to laugh ; he had to struggle with
a strong temptation to seize the fiendish man by the throat,
like a foaming mad dog which the next instant would bite
with its poisonous teeth what was dearest to him on earth.
Merciful Heavens! how was this to end? Suppose the
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Friedrich Spielhagen
young wife had made no use of the key he had just sent her
suppose she had not understood his mute warning, or had
not the courage to obey it. And had he not done his utmost
to rob her of this courage? Suppose the horrible man,
whose black, piercing eyes seemed to see through the deepest
secrets like glass, had found a bloody handkerchief or cap
that had belonged to Hans; suppose, as was inevitable, he
discovered the fatal sign in the closet, and there That
was the roll of a carriage rapidly approaching, a roll that
became a rattling past the shaking windows a stop
they had arrived. The sound of the door-bell, hasty steps
along the passage, down the stairs, up the stairs, a confusion
of voices what would be the end?
" I again give you my word," said the assessor in a low
tone, approaching the doctor, " that, far from having any
personal rancor, I shall show all possible consideration.
Whether I can do so will depend upon the young wife's
tact and Herr Nudel's conduct. Herr Nudel, you will
pardon an old friend of the family in Cologne if he at the
persuasion and on the responsibility of our worthy doctor
ventures to pay his respects to you this evening and make
the request to be permitted to take his modest share in the
family's festival?"
Lebrecht, who had just entered, cast a hasty, sullen glance
at the poor doctor, who was pacing up and down the room
with long strides like a madman, but took the hand the
assessor offered and said:
" Hospitality, Herr von Frank, is a law as inviolable to us
Pomeranians as it can be to you dwellers on the Rhine, so
I bid you welcome. My wife has already informed me of
your presence. She begs to be excused a few minutes
longer until she has greeted her parents. Meantime, will
you be seated ? Won't you sit down too, Adalbert ? "
" Thank you," said the doctor, without interrupting his
tramp.
Lebrechfs handsome face betrayed the annoyance that
stirred within him. No human being's presence would have
been more unwelcome to him at this moment than the
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German Mystery Stories
assessor's. On the way to the station, in the dark corner
of his carriage, with the memory of every warning word
his friend had spoken, the sorrowful glance his unsuspicious
Annchen had cast at him, as he went out of the door, the
whole folly of the situation into which he had plunged him-
self became clear, and in the same moment a resolution had
become fixed in his soul. He would, not to Annchen alone,
not to her parents alone, but when they were together, and
in the presence of Bertram, whose esteem he valued more
than that of all other human beings except Annchen he
would say to them, " It happened so-and-so. Now do what
you wish and can." What would the parents, Annchen
herself, do and say ? He bowed his head in sincere humility.
In his own opinion he had deserved any punishment nay,
asked himself whether he even dared to wish that he might
not receive the most severe chastisement whether if he
did not, he should ever again have peace from the reproaches
of his own conscience. How he should bear it he had under
no circumstances to ask.
And now a malicious fate must throw this man in his way
this man, to whom from the first moment he had felt a
deep, unconquerable repugnance, of whose malicious wit
he had had proofs enough, of whose hostility towards him-
self, even without direct proofs, he was secretly convinced,
and who in the eyes of Annchen's parents certainly and
who could tell whether not also in hers? for he was un-
doubtedly a clever man and had been able to exert his
influence over her when she was still almost a child stood
in high and, if people chose to consider it, just esteem. It
had already affected him most unpleasantly when Bertram
said that the man was in Woldom, and now he sat opposite
to him by his own fireside sat there as if in mockery of
him, in the very chair from which he had just wished his
faithful, beloved old friend a thousand miles away! Or
was it only a righteous sharpening of the punishment?
Must what he had not ventured to say to the friend now be
confessed in the presence of that friend, Annchen's parents,
and this man? Very well; he had determined that no pun-
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Friedrich Spielhagen
ishment would be too hard; a harder one than this no
malicious fiend could have invented.
While such sad, nay, cheerless emotions filled poor silent
Lebrecht's soul and reflected themselves in his gloomy
face, and Herr von Frank, with the most unconcerned ex-
pression and perfect politeness, chatted about Cologne and
Woldom, and this and that, Dr. Bertram, during his prom-
enade, had had time to watch the strange pair by the fireside.
Was that his friend in conversation with a new acquaintance ?
Was it a poor fly in the web of a spider that cautiously pulls
the thread to show how great its victim's power of resistance
will be a stupid devil of a traveler, who pursues his way
while the robber aims his gun at him from behind a tree
a man who, before he puts down the poker with which he
has just stirred the coals, falls dead with palpitation of the
heart? Yes, palpitation of the heart, if she did not aid in
the dangers that threatened him on all sides she of whom
the young men where could they be now? would sing
that evening :
" The pure, the innocent, the fair,
His comfort sweet, his help and stay."
Hear me, Father Apollo! I'll never again sin against you
by sweet verses, if you'll make me your prophet this
time.
So the singular man prayed, while wiping the sweat of
anxiety from his brow with his yellow silk handkerchief, and
then in the act of turning, in an attitude only possible to his
figure, stood motionless, handkerchief in hand. Through
the door leading into the entry, which Nebelow had just
thrown open, entered a handsome old gentleman in a black
coat, with a most conspicuous double chin between the points
of a high, stiff collar, supporting on his arm a tall, corpulent
lady in a black silk dress, whose most prominent feature
was an imperious nose under heavy, black, straight eye-
brows. And between the black shoulders of this worthy
couple the doctor saw a beautiful face, which he alone
sought, and which, while the black shoulders swayed to the
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German Mystery Stories
right and left, remained a moment in the frame of the door-
way and cast a glance at him from the large, sparkling eyes
a single glance, accompanied by the sweetest, most mischie-
vous smile; and all in the room, the assessor not excepted,
were startled by a strange sound, half like the cry of a
human being, half like the crow of a hen, which the doctor
had undoubtedly uttered, though he now stepped forward,
with the gravest face, to meet the Herr and Frau Com-
merzienrath and claim for himself, in well-chosen words,
the right to be permitted to introduce himself as Lebrecht's
oldest and best friend. Ere two minutes had passed the
most animated conversation, in which Lebrecht alone took
no share, was going on among the party gathered round
the hearth. What did he care for Herr von Frank's rem-
iniscences of the dear, hospitable house in the holy city,
his mother-in-law's gracious answers, his father-in-law's
stories of the events of the present journey, and how he
had manfully struggled with hunger and thirst in order not
to spoil his appetite for supper, inclusive of the king's bowl?
What did he care for Bertram's wit, which played the
maddest pranks, and had repeatedly made Annchen's kind
old father almost go into convulsions of laughter, to which
the doctor was once obliged to put an end by gently rapping
him between the black shoulders? His eyes, when he ven-
tured to raise them, sought only her face, which had never
seemed to him so beautiful, so radiant with mirth a mirth
which, alas! formed a contrast with the weary sadness of
the past hours very humiliating to him. And why had she,
in the hurry, put on the gray silk dress of which he was so
fond, because he saw her in it for the first time, except in
order, by every circumstance, to remind him of the priceless
treasure he had once possessed and was now in the act of
losing forever ? How her laugh would die away the laugh
that, rising from time to time with silvery clearness above
the hum of conversation, fell with painful sweetness upon
his ear! How at every word he uttered the sunny smile
would vanish more and more from her face; and yet they
must be spoken!
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Friedrich Spielhagen
" My honored friends, will you allow me to say a few
W0 rds "
" On no account," interrupted the doctor, who, in spite
of the jests he was making, constantly maintained a sharp
watch. " He wants to make a speech ; don't allow it,
madam."
" Certainly not ! " cried Annchen, hastily turning from an
apparently eager conversation with the assessor, " except at
the table. I'm very fond of speeches at table. Papa is
great in them. Yes, yes, papa! you are. Our Herr
Assessor, you must know, doctor, is famed along the Rhine
for his toasts, and deserves it. From you, my dear doctor,
after the lecture you've already given me to-day, I expect
something magnificent. And, Lebrecht, you must speak too
really, whether you want to or not. I've invited your
clerks I wonder they're not here yet all of them, ev^en
the young men from our shop. Yes, yes, mamma ; we have
a shop, too a real shop for provisions and colonial wares,
which has already been in the family I don't know how
long, and in which one can get everything that is wanted
in the kitchen. I must say I haven't been so much delighted
with the whole magnificent old house as with my shop ; for
you must know, mamma, that on our betrothal Lebrecht
gave me the income for pocket-money several thousand
thalers a year, mamma. We wanted to surprise you, and
even had the old sign under the window taken down; but
I'm too proud of my shop it had to be put back immedi-
ately. Didn't you see it in the dark after all ? And, papa,
the sugar and oranges for the king's bowl all came from my
shop. But, mamma, what will, perhaps, interest you still
more is that we have a skeleton in the house too, and a
skeleton in the house, you know, is the most genteel and
aristocratic thing in the world ; for a skeleton only appears
in very old and aristocratic houses, and every aristocratic
old house must have its skeleton. Our doctor here under-
stands the whole don't you call it pathology, doctor? of
skeletons, and that there are chronic and acute ones, but the
chronic are the genuine, and ours is a genuine chronic one.
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Oh! he has made me so curious about our skeleton, but I
couldn't do anything, for Lebrecht had the key to the old
closet yonder, where it is, in his trunk, and I was obliged
to wait until the baggage came. So, to the despair of Frau
Uelzen, I've been till this moment without our silver, which
is also in the closet, together with the king's bowl, dear
papa ; and, Lebrecht, it is high time for us to go to supper.
The skeleton will of course eat with us. You needn't be
at all afraid of it, mamma; there were certainly plenty of
skeletons in our fifty castles, and the Herr Assessor will be
so pleased to make its acquaintance. You also belong to
an old family, Herr von Frank, and I know you are enthu-
siastic on the subject of skeletons, especially ours. Here is
the key, Lebrecht."
A crimson flush had suffused Lebrecht's face from the
moment Annchen's smiling lips uttered the fatal word.
There was no time for him even to form a conjecture
whether Bertram had betrayed him, or how she had obtained
the key; and, besides, it was a matter of indifference. He
knew, he felt, only one thing: your repentance, your atone-
ment all too late, too late ! He could have died of shame
at the feet of the enchantress, who, smiling sweetly, was
loosening in careless, sportive play, with light, gentle hand,
the heavy fetters in which his folly, his pitiful disbelief in
the infinitude of her love and kindness, had ensnared him.
And while, a weak, shamefaced man, he still gazed at the
undeserved miracle, what new flood of light was this
that now almost dazzled his eyes? Could it be? Her
previous sadness, her exuberant mirth now, Bertram's
allusions, the assessor's inexplicable presence, the policeman
who had followed him everywhere at the station she had
known, endured, been silent about this too, she whom he
had not thought generous enough to forgive a trifle!
The strong man almost broke down under the flood of
happiness that overwhelmed him. He staggered up from
his seat like a drunkard, rushed to the closet, and tore open
the door.
"Hans!"
no
Friedrich Spielhagen
Hans had darted out of the darkness into the outstretched
arms of his beloved master so quickly that they scarcely
knew whether he had come from the closet or sprung from
the floor. In the haste it had been impossible, even for
Annchen's mother, to utter the smallest cry of surprise or
terror, while the two men, amid flowing tears, embraced
each other again and again, and shook hands like brothers
who had met after the pain of a long and sorrowful sep-
aration.
Hans first released himself, wiped the tears from his
laughing eyes, bowed gracefully, and said, " I beg pardon,
Herr and Frau Commerzienrath. My name is Hans
Fliederbusch, fourth clerk in your son-in-law's counting-
house. Herr Assessor von Frank, I'm extremely happy to
make your valuable acquaintance. You must excuse my
emotion and my somewhat reduced condition, ladies and
gentlemen. It's no joke to be shut up here in the dark for
six weeks, and have no amusement except a nocturnal
promenade through the secret passage to Gallows Hill and
a game of sixty-six with the slave-ship captains there. And
as soon as I had no more ready cash the rascals took from
me all our silver piece by piece, except the king's bowl,
Herr Commerzienrath, which you see glittering there alone,
that I wouldn't give up on any account ; and can you con-
ceive of such avarice, Herr Assessor? finally they even
took my boots."
" Mauvais sujet! " cried the doctor, " will you never listen
to reason ? This, you must know, Herr Commerzienrath
allow me, Herr Commerzienrath ! "
And the doctor gently patted the black shoulders of the
Commerzienrath, who at all the jokes, of which he did not
understand a word, and the comical people who seemed as if
they had sprung out of a carnival, was choking with laughter
again, and then drew him aside, whispering a few explana-
tory words about these jests, while Hans rushed across the
entry into the dining-room, from whence he heard various
shrill and growling tones that seemed trying to pitch them-
selves on A.
in
German Mystery Stories
" For God's sake, dear Herr Assessor, what does all this
mean ? " whispered Frau Commerzienrathen Schmitz to the
assessor, who raised himself on the toes of his varnished
boots and whispered in reply:
" It means, madam, that you have a very clever daughter,
and people must get up early in the morning to obtain their
revenge."
But Annchen held her husband in a close embrace, as if
she would never release him from her arms.
" Forgive me, Lebrecht ! "
" I forgive you ? "
" You made me almost crazy, Lebrecht."
" I I fool, madman ! Annchen, Annchen ! henceforth
I must live by your favor."
"By my love, Lebrecht, as I by yours. Isn't that so,
doctor, you dear, dear friend ? "
The doctor, who was just passing them, passionately
kissed the hand offered him, exclaiming:
" I don't know what you have been talking about, I only
know that there are still angels, and only the poet's eye has
the favor of beholding them ; and my eye beheld this angel,
when, on the day after your departure, I sat in my dark
corner at Mother Ihlefeldt's, and, in compensation for your
having left me, and that I should henceforth be more lonely
than ever before, wished you the best of wives."
The assessor had vanished.
" A pity ! " muttered the doctor, putting on his glasses
again ; " he's a clever fellow, who would have made a
thousand jokes this evening, when it will doubtless be un-
commonly gay. And as for the others dear me ! he doesn't
suspect how good-natured and forgiving people are who
have successfully driven their skeleton out of the house."
112
PART II
Short Stories
Short Stories
Gustav Meyrink
The Man on the Bottle
ELANCHTHON was dancing with the Bat, whose
costume represented her in an inverted position.
The wings were folded close to the body, and in the claws
she held a large gold hoop upright, which gave the impres-
sion that she was hanging, suspended from some imaginary
point. The effect was grotesque, and it amused Melanch-
thon very much, for he had to peep through this gold hoop,
which was exactly on a level with his face, while dancing
with the Bat.
She was one of the most original masks and at the
same time one of the most repelling ones at the fete of
the Persian prince. She had even impressed his highness,
Mohammed Darasche-Koh, the host.
" I know you, pretty one," he had nodded to her, much
to the amusement of the bystanders.
" It is certainly the little marquise, the intimate friend of
the princess," declared a Dutch councilor in a Rembrandt
costume. He surmised this because she knew every turn
and corner of the palace, to judge by her conversation.
And but a few moments ago, when some cavalier had or-
dered felt boots and torches so that they might go down
into the courtyard and indulge in snowballing, the Bat
joined them and participated wildly in the game. It was
then and the Dutchman was quite ready to back it with
9
German Mystery Stories
a wager that he had seen a well-known bracelet on her
wrist.
" Oh, how interesting," exclaimed a Blue Butterfly.
4t Couldn't Melanchthon discreetly discover whether or not
Count Faast is a slave of the princess ? "
" Don't speak so loud," interrupted the Dutch councilor.
" It is a mighty good thing that the orchestra played the
close of that waltz fortissimo, for the prince was standing
here only a moment since."
" Better not speak of such things," whispered an Egyp-
tian, " for the jealousy of this Asiatic prince knows no
bounds, and there are probably more explosives in the pal-
ace than we dream. Count de Faast has been playing with
fire too long, and if Darasche-Koh suspects "
A rough figure representing a huge knot dashed by them
in wild flight to escape a Hellenic warrior in shimmering
armor.
"If you were the Gordian knot, Mynherr, and were pur-
sued by Alexander the Great, wouldn't you be frightened? "
teased the inverted Bat, tapping the Dutchman coquettishly
on the end of the nose with her fan.
" The sharp wit of the pretty Marquise Bat betrays her,"
smiled a lanky Satan with tail and cloven foot. " What a
pity that only as a Bat are you to be seen with your feet
in the air."
The dull sound of a gong filled the room as an execu-
tioner appeared, draped in a crimson robe. He tapped a
bronze gong, and then, resting his weight on his glittering
cudgel, posed himself in the center of the big hall.
Out of every niche and lobby the maskers streamed
toward him harlequins, cannibals, an ibis, and some Chi-
nese, Don Quixotes, Columbines, bayaderes and dominoes
of all colors.
The crimson executioner distributed tablets of ivory in-
scribed with gold letters.
" Oh, programmes for the entertainment ! " chorused the
crowd.
10
Gustav Meyrink
THE MAN IN THE BOTTLE
Marionette Comedy in the Spirit of Aubrey Beardsley
By PRINCE MOHAMMED DARASCHE-KOH
CHARACTERS:
THE MAN IN THE BOTTLE Miguel, Count de Faast
THE MAN ON THE BOTTLE Prince Mohammed Darasche-Koh
THE LADY IN THE SEDAN CHAIR
VAMPIRES, MARIONETTES, HUNCHBACKS, APES, MUSICIANS
Scene of Action: A Tiger's Maw
" What ! The prince the author of this marionette play ? "
" Probably a scene out of the ' Thousand and One
Nights. 5 "
" But who will play the part of the Lady in the Sedan
Chair?"
" Oh, there is a great surprise in store for us," twittered
a seductive Incroyable, leaning on the arm of an Abbe.
" Do you know, the Pierrot with whom I danced the taran-
telle was the Count de Faast, who is going to play The
Man in the Bottle; and he confided a lot of things to me:
the marionettes will be very grewsome that is, for those
who appreciate the spirit of the thing and the prince had
an elephant sent down from Hamburg but you are not
listening to me at all ! " And the little one dropped the
arm of her escort and bolted into the swirling crowd.
New groups of masks constantly poured out of the ad-
joining rooms through the wide doorways into the big hall,
making a kaleidoscopic play of colors, while files of cos-
tumed guests stood admiring the wonderful mural frescoes
that rose to the blue, star-dotted ceiling. Attendants served
refreshments, sorbets and wines in the window niches.
With a rolling sound the walls of the narrow end of the
hall separated and a stage was pushed slowly into view.
Its setting, in red brown and a flaming yellow proscenium,
ii
German Mystery Stories
was a yawning tiger's maw, the white teeth glittering above
and below.
In the middle of the scene stood a huge glass bottle
in the form of a globe, with walls at least a foot thick. It
was about twice the height of an average man and very
roomy. The back of the scene was draped with pink silk
hangings. ,
Then the colossal ebony doors of the hall opened and ad-
mitted a richly caparisoned elephant, which advanced with
majestic tread. On its head sat the crimson executioner
guiding the beast with the butt of his cudgel. Chains of
amethysts dangled from the elephant's tusks, and plumes of
peacock feathers nodded from its head. Heavily embroi-
dered gold cloths streamed down from the back of the
beast, skirting the floor ; across its enormous forehead there
was a network of sparkling jewels.
The maskers flocked around the advancing beast, shout-
ing greetings to the gay group of actors seated in the palan-
quin ; Prince Darasche-Koh with turban and aigrette, Count
de Faast as Pierrot, marionettes and musicians, stiff as
wooden puppets. The elephant reached the stage, and with
its trunk lifted one man after another from its back. There
was much applause and a yell of delight as the beast seized
the Pierrot and sliding him into the neck of the bottle,
closed the metal top. Then the Persian prince was placed
on top of the bottle.
The musicians seated themselves in a semicircle, drawing
forth strange, slender instruments. The elephant gazed at
them a moment, then turned about and strode toward the
door. Like a lot of happy children the maskers clung to
its trunk, ears, and tusks and tried to hold it back; but
the animal seemed not to feel their weight at all.
The performance began, and somewhere, as if out of the
ground, there arose weird music. The puppet orchestra
of marionettes remained lifeless and waxen ; the flute player
stared with glassy, idiotic eyes at the ceiling; the features
of the rococo conductor in peruke and plumed hat, holding
the baton aloft and pressing a pointed finger mysteriously
12
Gustav Meyrink
to his lips, were distorted by a shrewd, uncanny smile. In
the foreground posed the marionettes. Here were grouped
a humpbacked dwarf with chalky face, a gray, grinning
devil, and a sallow, rouged actress with carmine lips. The
three seemed possessed of some satanic secret that had
paralyzed their movements. The semblance of death
brooded over the entire motionless group.
The Pierrot in the bottle now began to move restlessly.
He doffed his white felt hat, bowed and occasionally greeted
the Persian prince, who with crossed legs sat on the cap
of the bottle. His antics amused the audience. The thick
walls of glass distorted his appearance curiously ; sometimes
his eyes seemed to pop out of his head; then again they
disappeared, and one saw only forehead and chin; some-
times he was fat and bloated, then again slender, with long
legs like a spider's.
In the midst of a motionless pause the red silk hangings
of the background parted, and a closed sedan chair was
carried on by two Moors, who placed it near the bottle.
A ray of pale light from above now illuminated the scene.
The spectators had formed themselves into two camps.
The one was speechless under the spell of this vampiric,
enigmatic marionette play that seemed to exhale an atmos-
phere of poisoned merriment; the other group, not sensi-
tive enough to appreciate such a scene, laughed immoder-
ately at the comical capering of the man in the bottle. He
had given up his merry dancing and was trying by every
possible means to impart some information or other to the
prince sitting on the cap. He pounded the walls of the
bottle as though he would smash them; and to all appear-
ances he was screaming at the top of his voice, although
not the slightest sound penetrated the thick glass.
The Persian prince acknowledged the movements of the
Pierrot with a smile, pointing with his finger at the sedan
chair.
The curiosity of the audience reached its climax when
it saw that the Pierrot had pressed his face against the glass
and was staring at something in the window of the sedan
13
German Mystery Stories
chair. Then suddenly, like one gone mad, he beat his face
with his hands, sank on his knees and tore his hair. Then
he sprang furiously up and raced around the bottle at such
speed that the audience saw only a fluttering cloth in his
wake.
The secret of the Lady in the Sedan Chair puzzled the
audience considerably they could only see that a white face
was pressed against the window of the chair and was star-
ing over at the bottle. Shadows cut off all further view.
Laughter and applause rose to a tumult. Pierrot had
crouched on the bottom of the bottle, his fingers clutching
his throat. Then he opened his mouth wide and pointed
in wild frenzy to his chest and then to the one sitting above.
He folded his hands in supplication, as though he were
begging something from the audience.
" He wants something to drink ! Such a large bottle
and no wine in it? I say, you marionettes, give him a
drink," cried one of the maskers.
Everybody laughed and applauded.
Then the Pierrot jumped up once more, tore his garments
from his chest and staggered about until he measured his
length on the bottom of the bottle.
" Bravo, bravo, Pierrot ! Wonderfully acted ! Da capo,
da capo!" yelled the maskers.
When the man in the bottle did not stir again and made
no effort to repeat his scene, the applause gradually sub-
sided and the attention of the spectators was drawn to the
marionettes. They still remained motionless in the poses
they had assumed, but in their miens there was now a sense
of expectancy that had not been there before. It seemed
as if they were waiting for a cue.
The humpbacked dwarf, with the chalked face, turned his
eyes carefully and gazed at the Prince Darasche-Koh. The
Persian did not stir.
Finally two figures advanced from the background, and
one of the Moors haltingly approached the sedan chair and
opened the door.
And then something very remarkable occurred the body
14
Gustav Meyrink
of a woman fell stiffly out on the stage. There was a mo-
ment of deathly silence and then a thousand voices arose:
"What has happened?"
Marionettes, apes, musicians all leaped forward; mask-
ers climbed up on the stage.
The princess, wife of Darasche-Koh, lay there strapped
to a steel frame. Where the ropes had cut into her flesh
were blue bruises, and in her mouth there was a silk gag.
A nameless horror took possession of the audience.
" Pierrot ! " a voice suddenly shrilled. " Pierrot ! " Like
a dagger, indescribable fear penetrated every heart'.
"Where is the prince?"
During the tumult the Persian had disappeared.
Melanchthon stood on the shoulders of Mephisto, but he
could not lift the cap of the bottle, and the air valve was
screwed tightly shut.
" Break the walls of the bottle ! Quick ! "
The Dutch councilor tore the cudgel from the hand of
the crimson executioner and with a leap landed on the
stage.
A grewsome sound arose, like the tolling of a cracked
bell. Like streaks of white lightning the cracks leaped
across the surface of the glass. Finally the bottle was splin-
tered into bits. And within lay, suffocated, the corpse of
the Count de Faast, his fingers clawing his breast.
Silently and with invisible pinions the gigantic ebon birds
of terror streaked through the hall of the fete.
Dietrich Theden
Christian Lahusen's Baron
JTROM the beginning- the villagers said that there was
something queer about the Baron, " Farmer Chris-
tian's Baron," as they called him. Of course, even the
most inveterate gossips of the neighborhood didn't expect
things to turn out just as they did. But the gossips enjoyed
themselves because of the outcome, which enlivened many
a long winter evening for them. They were sorry for Chris-
tian, of course, but they said it did him good. And then
he was a rich man, and could stand a lesson even if it did
cost him quite a pretty sum.
Christian Lahusen, owner of the Sea Inn, was a man
whose carriage and bearing, one might say his whole atti-
tude toward life, showed that his bank account was of a
satisfactory heaviness, and that his land was good land
which repaid his labor and his confidence.
The Lake Inn farm belonged to the wealthy village of
Briigghofen, near Kiel. The farm itself was of consider-
able size, with good rich loam and a fine beach wood sur-
rounding a pretty little lake from which the inn took its
name. Agriculture and the fishing in the lake were not the
only occupation of the owner of the farm. His many-sided
energy allowed him to give sufficient attention to an eating
and drinking establishment in one wing of this house, and
not to neglect over it a general store at the opposite end
of the large building. Besides the favorite lager beer which
he ordered from Kiel, he brewed a beer on his own grounds
which was eagerly consumed by all the neighborhood, and
also sold in considerable quantities to other inns in the
vicinity. A large metal shield with golden letters on a
black ground told all who might be interested that Chris-
16
Dietrich Theden
tian was also the general agent of a large fire insurance
company, and his customers comprised almost the entire
landed population of the district. But more important than
any of these was his wholesale fruit trade, which made his
name known far beyond the boundaries of his own county.
Christian Lahusen was the first farmer who had utilized the
railroad for the service of his business. He bought up the
entire fruit output for many square miles and sent whole
carloads to Kiel and Hamburg. The fruit growers of the
neighborhood, even the owners of the large baronial es-
tates, brought all their produce to Christian, and he num-
bered the largest shops of the cities among his customers.
All this naturally made Christian a marked man among
his fellows, and a man universally respected for his energy
and his success. But, like everyone else, he had his fail-
ings. One particular little fancy of his was the cause of
great amusement to the entire neighborhood, of amuse-
ment that turned to distrust and led to many a well-meant
warning. But these warnings passed all unheeded, and
Christian brought his trouble upon himself.
The owner of the Lake Inn farm had two daughters,
and he had great hopes and schemes for them. The young-
est, Marie, was still only fourteen years old, and was a
pupil in a leading boarding school in Kiel. From this
school the elder sister, Dorothea, had just returned as a
maiden of seventeen. For a few weeks before this story
opens, Dorothea had been visiting her sister in Kiel, and
had made an aristocratic acquaintance who is the hero of
this serio-comic tale. This gentleman had evidently become
so interested in Dorothea that he followed her home and
took a room at the inn for an indefinite length of time.
Christian Lahusen introduced him to the daily guests as
Baron Herbert von Waregg, pronouncing the name as if it
gave him the greatest pleasure. The Baron was polite enough
whenever he would condescend to depart from his usual
elegant reserve and make the acquaintance of the peasants
of the neighborhood. But, somehow, the villagers did not
seem to take to the Baron, and they laughed at Christian
17
German Mystery Stories
for his folly, the best natured of them saying that they hoped
at least that his fancy for the aristocracy would not cost
him all too dear. They did not know quite how well justi-
fied their distrust turned out to be.
The Baron had a large amount of baggage with him and
dressed in the latest style. He wore easy morning clothes
of the most fashionable cut during the week, and honored
the Sunday by shining patent-leather boots, pale-gray
trousers, a long black frock coat and a most carefully
brushed silk hat, which he wore just a little over one eye.
When he walked through the village streets or on the
shores of the lake in all this elegance, he was the cause of
great excitement among the small boys of the neighbor-
hood. The village girls appeared to look upon him with
favor, which naturally increased the dislike of the men of
the neighborhood.
The tall hat made the Baron look even longer than he
was, and lengthened his narrow face in a rather disadvan-
tageous manner. His guest's height would make even
Lahusen smile, when the former was obliged to bow his
head considerably to pass in under the somewhat low door
of the inn. " I'll have to send for the carpenter to raise the
top of that door," laughed the landlord. But his peasant
friends told him that they didn't think it was necessary.
" It won't hurt the Baron or whatever he may be to
have to make a bow to a decent farmer occasionally," said
one of them.
" It is not so much his height I'm worrying about," said
another. " He can carry it all, for he stands up as stiff as
a ramrod. But it's his face I don't like. I can't say what
it is, but there's something in it that makes me think I
wouldn't trust the man."
"What's in it?" said the third. "Why, nothing but a
nose like a hawk and eyes like a cat "
Christian Lahusen rattled the glasses at his bar in a
noticeable way, as a delicate hint that he did not like the
conversation.
18
Dietrich Theden
The peasants were not so far out of the way with their
description of " hawk's nose and cat's eyes." But in spite
of this, the Baron's face was not altogether unpleasing, and
was certainly not uninteresting. It would light up well
when he was talking to his landlord, and he could then
show an amiability, which quite charmed the farmer, and
make him think that the distrust shown by his friends in
the village sprang from their lack of understanding a gen-
tleman of the great world. He paid no further attention
to their remarks, but merely shrugged his shoulders. One
thing did worry him, however, and that was his daughter's
attitude toward the Baron.
Dorothea Lahusen was a typical Holstein girl in appear-
ance; above middle height, slender but well developed,
bloomingly healthy, with rich blond hair and clear frank
blue eyes. Her character also showed all the good quali-
ties of her countrywomen. She was capable and energetic,
efficient in the ordering of her house, neat and tidy, straight-
forward and honest in her loyal devotion to her family and
in her reserve toward strangers. Her boarding-school edu-
cation in the city had given her somewhat easier manners
than those of country girls generally. It had awakened her
intelligence and raised her from the plane of her friends
at home, thus seeming to heighten her reserve toward them,
and to give to her attitude toward the Baron the politeness
of maidenly modesty. She had met the gentleman at the
house of a friend in the city, and at the various parties and
excursions that had brought them together, he had notice-
ably shown his preference for her. His attentions had flat-
tered her, although she did not feel herself drawn toward
him in the slightest. She had accepted the bouquet which
he brought to the train on her departure simply to show
her gratitude for his preference. But she had been much
astonished when he appeared at the inn and engaged a room
for a prolonged stay.
Several months had passed and Waregg was still there.
He had entirely won the father's confidence, and went in
and out as if he were a member of the family. But he did
German Mystery Stories
not seem to have made any advance in Dorothea's favor.
The girl talked to him as to anyone else at the table, but
she evidently avoided being alone with him. She could not
have explained what it was that warned her to be cautious
and not to encourage his suit. Nor could she have told
what it was that affected her unpleasantly, when he would
wander into the store in the busy early evening hours to
help her father and to chat with the customers.
" Looking for change ? " he asked once, as Dorothea
could not seem to find the money she looked for, and was
about to send out the errand boy. " Please permit me."
Waregg brought out a handful of change from his pocket,
counted it out, and said, laughing, " Don't you want to make
me your banker? I won't ask any commission."
The next evening he was there again. The store was
full, and Lahusen as well as his daughter had as much as
they could do.
"Want some help?" asked the Baron amiably. "I'm a
trained cashier ; can't I help you a little, my dear friend ? "
Christian Lahusen was very glad of the assistance, and
gave the Baron the entire charge of the cash, turning the
money over to him with simply a mention of the sum to
be returned, and then going right on to the next customer
himself. Dorothea did not like this, but she did not want
to show her distrust and so followed her father's example.
The Baron was quick and adept at his work, said laugh-
ingly that he was glad he was of some use in the world,
and remained in the store as long as they did. His daily
assistance came to be a matter of habit. There was but one
disadvantage, if one can call it that, about this new ar-
rangement. The women customers, finding that the Baron
was there every evening, appeared to prefer those hours
for their errands, and the room was often so crowded that
it was impossible to move sometimes. Waregg appeared
much amused at this, and exchanged jokes with his land-
lord about it.
Punctually every Saturday evening the Baron paid his
weekly bill. This was not a very large one, and was in-
20
Dietrich Theden
creased only on the rare occasions when the Baron allowed
himself a good bottle of wine.
" He must have some money," acknowledged even Detlev
Bruhn, who had been the first and worst to talk against the
Baron.
" He ? He has more money than you and I together,
Detlev," declared Lahusen.
" Has he spoken to you about his affairs ? " asked the
other.
" Why, of course."
" What part of the country does he come from ? "
" From Austria, if you must know."
"Oh! and what is his father?"
" His father his father is a bank president, and has a
big estate besides. He showed me a picture of the castle
it's fine, I tell you."
" Has he got the picture with him ? "
" Yes that is, he sent for it."
" Hm ! Has he sent for money, much ? "
" For these few months ? A man like that doesn't go
round with a few groschen in his pocket. Besides, he
doesn't need much here. He'd use more in one week in
the city than he would here in four months. Why, he's
saving money now ! "
"Will he will he stay much longer?" asked Detlev.
This was his way of avoiding the direct question which
the entire village was asking itself, " Will he ask for your
daughter's hand?"
" We'll see soon, I suppose," answered Lahusen eva-
sively.
" He hasn't got a profession, I suppose ? " continued
Bruhn.
" He studied at college the law, I think. In Vienna
and Berlin. People like that, Detlev, can arrange their
vacation just as they like. They don't need to earn money,
'cause they have more than they can spend, anyway."
' 'Twould make me lazy I'd want something to do."
" Yes, you might, Detlev, And I would, too, but there's
21
German Mystery Stories
all sorts of people in this world. And, besides, he isn't quite
lazy even here. In the store evenings, for instance, he takes
entire charge of the money. You ought to see how he can
work."
" Indeed ? " asked Detlev Bruhn, with a long-drawn tone.
Lahusen poured out a fresh glass of beer. " Prost, Det-
lev!"
" Prost, Christian ! you made a good thing out of this
year's plums, didn't you ? "
" I'm satisfied."
Toward the end of September Waregg went to Kiel for
a day, returning in time to help Lahusen with his account-
ing after the close of the apple trade. Combined with the
payment for a large order from a big Hamburg house, the
amounts that came in reached a considerable height.
" Don't you think we'll make up that last twenty thou-
sand ? " joked the Baron. " I really shouldn't have thought
that a few carloads of apples "
Lahusen interrupted with a laugh. " Would run up such
a capital, hey? Well, I suppose you have different sums to
calculate with than we do."
" Yes, at least my old man does. He strings on a few
ciphers on general principles before he begins to add up.
But as far as I'm concerned, I respect the smallest sum
when I see it's honestly worked for. But your business is
worthy of respect anyway. This Hamburg firm, for in-
stance let me see it's No. 60 or 70 Graskeller, isn't it ?
yes, Heinrich Kruse, that's the name on the draft. Are they
secure ? "
" As certain as death. They complain now and then and
want to cut down a little, but they are honest as gold."
" Hm, you see I don't know much about that sort of
thing. And it's a draft on sight, too, no loss of interest.
Now that we're here alone, my dear Lahusen, won't you
shut your book a moment, and allow me a discreet ques-
tion?"
" Certainly." Christian Lahusen knew what was com-
22
Dietrich Theden
ing. At least, he thought he did, and his fresh round face
flushed.
Waregg came to the point at once. " I suppose you
know what's keeping me here? Will you give me your
daughter for my wife ? "
" Have you spoken to her ? " asked Lahusen, hesitating.
" No, I wish to be quite correct and to secure your con-
sent first."
Lahusen stood up. "If my daughter wants you, I have
nothing against it."
" I will speak to her myself."
" Yes, I will leave that to you."
" She is busy in the house now. But late in the after-
noon when she is free, I will find her. It can hardly sur-
prise her by this time."
Lahusen pressed his guest's hand. "Yes, speak to her
then," he said.
So he really meant business ; he thought in triumph.
What a sensation it would make in the village ! and what a
defeat for the gossips and the backbiters ! Lahusen mopped
his brow with his handkerchief, put his books and his ac-
counts in his iron safe, hurried through his house and gar-
den and couldn't seem to await the afternoon. During
the day, however, a young friend of Dorothea's came to
take her away to a birthday party, which rather upset the
plans of the men of the household and put them in a bad
humor. During the early evening, when there was so
much business in the store, there was no possibility of a
quiet conversation. The Baron didn't come to take care
of the cash that evening, but promenaded the garden, in-
stead, with a very melancholy expression of face.
Finally, after supper, the balmy air drew Dorothea to the
garden, and she wandered out to a little arbor with a ro-
mantic outlook on the lake and the woods beyond. It was
a charming evening, with the delicate light of the early
moon over wood and water, and the young girl hummed
a song gently as she sat there alone.
In the deep silence she was startled by steps approach-
23
German Mystery Stories
ing the arbor. She recognized the Baron and left her little
nook, as she did not wish to be alone with him in any place
so secluded.
She answered his greetings with reserve.
" May I speak to you for a moment ? " Waregg began.
She nodded and walked slowly through the garden path,
while he followed at her side.
" Miss Dorothea, I have followed you ever since I first
met you. Must I tell you why I am here ? "
She halted and turned to look at him.
" I will tell you then/' he said. " I love you, Dorothea ;
will you be my wife ? "
She was surprised at the calmness with which she heard
his words, particularly as the moonlight streaming over his
face brought out its peculiarities more clearly than she
had ever seen them before. It looked yellow, deepened in
spots where the smooth-shaven black beard gleamed through
the skin. The turned-up corners of the mustache had an
artificial appearance; fine lines that years alone can bring
were gathered about the corners of his eyes, and his glance
had a glowing keenness that frightened her.
She shook her blond head. " No," she said ; " I thank
you for the honor you have done me, but I cannot accept."
He paused for a moment, then answered calmly, with a
sharp glance at her : " Forgive me, if I ventured to hope
too much. I had your father's consent. But if I cannot
win yours, I will leave this place at once." He bowed for-
mally and ceremoniously. " I will take the noon train to-
morrow and may therefore have no further opportunity to
see you. Farewell, Miss Lahusen."
She bowed without speaking and breathed a deep sigh
of relief as he walked quickly toward the house and left
her alone with the peace of the evening. She saw no more
of the Baron that evening. When she had remained about
an hour more in the garden she went quietly upstairs to
her own room without going to see her father as usual. She
was still awake when, at eleven o'clock, the last guests left
the inn room, and shortly after that she heard her father
24
Dietrich Theden
come upstairs. She heard midnight strike from the deep-
toned church clock of Briigghofen, then her eyes closed
in the deep healthy sleep of youth.
Lahusen was usually the first up in the morning, awaken-
ing his daughter and the rest of the household force by
knocking on their doors. The morning following Dorothea's
refusal of Waregg, Lahusen started up uneasily from his
bed, as it seemed to him that he heard a loud knocking at
the window of the inn room which looked out upon the
main street. He looked at his clock, saw that it was only
five o'clock and listened again. There it was, beyond a
doubt this time. " Well, that is early," he said, sprang out
of bed, and drew his clothes on hastily.
Five o'clock was the usual rising hour at the farm in
summer, but for several weeks now the winter hour of
six o'clock had been introduced. Even the early drovers
did not come before six. Who could it possibly be?
Bum bum bum there it was again, at the window
of the inn room. Lahusen opened his own window and
called out, " Yes, yes, one moment." He finished his toilet
in haste and hurried down to welcome the early guest.
A broad-shouldered stranger with a dark gray overcoat
and a stiff black hat stood before him as he opened the
door. " Good morning. Is this Mr. Lahusen ? "
" Yes, I am he."
" I beg your pardon for coming so early. My name is
Groth. Police Commissioner from Kiel."
" Who ? what ? " asked the landlord, surprised.
The Commissioner pointed to a little shield under his
overcoat and continued, " I come on official business ; may
I speak to you alone?"
Lahusen led the way to the room in surprise. " You come
on business ? To me ? " he asked as if in doubt.
The stranger took a portfolio from his pocket, searched
among the papers it contained, took one out, read it and
asked, " Is there a Baron Herbert von Waregg living
here?"
25
German Mystery Stories
" Waregg? " stammered Lahusen astounded.
" Herbert von Waregg, as he calls himself."
"Calls himself?"
" Will you please answer my question ? Does the gentle-
man live here ? "
" Yes, certainly."
"Is he still in the house?"
" Why, yes, in his room."
The Commissioner smiled. " That's good. I was afraid
the bird might have flown. I have an order here to arrest
the Baron."
"What? Arrest him?"
" I'm very sorry that I have to thus disturb you, and I
am sorry also to have to ,tell you that you have fallen into
the hands of a swindler."
" A swindler ? Oh, impossible ! " cried Lahusen in ex-
citement.
The official showed him the warrant, but the letters
danced before Lahusen's eyes. He could only make out
the official heading and the words " Warrant for Arrest,"
then a strange name, " Thomas Gliczek," and beside it in
brackets, " Baron Herbert von Waregg, also Lieutenant
Thomas von Bowegg," and then finally the signature " Dis-
trict Attorney Riittgers."
Yes, he knew that last name. The man was the brother
of a landed proprietor who was one of his customers. And
this representative of justice was on the heels of his Baron,
and this Baron von Waregg was only Thomas Gliczek and
a common swindler! Lahusen groaned, and it was some
time before he could control himself. But then he pulled
himself together and told the official to do his duty. " Come
with me." He crossed a narrow corridor between the inn
room and the store and pointed to a staircase which led to
the second story.
" Lead the way, please," said the official. " But be care-
ful that the stairs do not creak."
They tiptoed past several doors until Lahusen stopped
before one of them, to which he pointed. The Commis-
26
Dietrich Theden
sioner turned the knob gently and found that the door
was locked. He took an instrument from his pocket
and opened it noiselessly. They stepped inside, but the
bed was empty. The trunks still stood in the room, sev-
eral suits and coats hung in the wardrobe, and a half-
opened drawer was full of underwear. The bed had not
been used at all.
The official turned to Lahusen. " Did the man have
other rooms ? " he said, evidently in a bad humor.
" No, only this one, the largest in the house."
The Commissioner stepped to the window. " Aha ! " he
exclaimed, " he has escaped us after all." He drew up a
heavy rope which was fastened to the window sill and hung
down nearly to the ground. " You see the path he has
taken. That sort of man has a fine sense of danger and
generally gets out in time. Do you know whether he re-
ceived a telegram last night ? "
" Not that I know of."
" We got wind of him yesterday in Kiel through a
woman he lived with." (Lahusen gasped at this.) "A
Polish woman, very ordinary sort," continued the Commis-
sioner. " He has neglected her since the beginning of the
summer, and that made her very angry. He came back
to her day before yesterday, brought her money, and told
her that he would send her some regularly from now on,
from here. The woman believed that he was deceiving her
and she betrayed him to the police. In this way we found
out where he was, but too late again. Well, it wasn't my
knocking that frightened him, for he has not been to bed
this night and probably left here in the late evening. You
see, he shut the door carefully that his flight would not be
discovered until as late as possible. I suppose he told you
all sorts of things about himself, and was he in your debt
also?"
Christian Lahusen shook his head. " No, even yesterday
evening he paid me up for the very last days."
" Yesterday was Thursday ; did he usually pay on that
day?"
27
German Mystery Stories
" No, he usually paid his bill on Saturdays."
" How long has he been here ? "
" Since the beginning of the summer."
" Oh, indeed ! During the whole time he's been away
from the woman then. And he paid regularly, you said ? "
"Yes, every Saturday regularly."
" But then, didn't you notice the change in the day ?
Didn't you wonder why he paid yesterday ? "
Lahusen was embarrassed. " Well, I'll tell you," he said
finally ; " you see he was a suitor for my daughter's hand.
She refused him yesterday and he told us that he would
leave to-day."
" Oh, indeed ! " A gleam in the Commissioner's eyes
showed that he was surprised at this. " Hm ! " he con-
tinued, " this refusal could hardly have caused him to run
away by night and leave all his things here. It was prob-
ably the fear of discovery from his other doings that caused
him to hurry up with his wooing and then to flee when this
last hope went back on him. If I only knew how the knowl-
edge that the woman had betrayed him reached him. Did
he have any callers ? "
" Never, that I knew of."
" Not even yesterday ? "
" No that is, in the night perhaps. That I do not know,
of course."
" When did he go to his room? "
" A little after ten, I think."
" And you heard nothing more of him ? "
"No.""
The Commissioner examined the trunks and the clothes
that were scattered about, but could find nothing except a
few loose leaves of newspapers and the photograph of a
large house that looked like a castle. " This looks famil-
iar," he remarked. " Isn't this Prince Heinrich's castle,
Hemmelmark ? "
Lahusen did not know the castle in question, and stam-
mered out that the swindler had showed him this building
as his family home. " He took it easy," replied the Com-
28
Dietrich Theden
missioner ironically. " This is a side view of Hemmel-
mark."
He asked for any further information about statements
the swindler had made, and took down notes. " Did he re-
ceive any money through the mails or in any other way ? "
" No."
" Then I don't understand what he lived on and where
he got the five hundred marks that he gave the woman
yesterday. He didn't have any money at all last spring."
He looked sharply at the innkeeper. " You have a very
large business, I understand. Did he manage to get in on
the inside of that somehow ? "
Christian Lahusen changed color. " Robbed me, you
mean?"
" Exactly."
Lahusen beat his forehead. " Impossible ! I " he mur-
mured several things to himself that were not quite polite.
He told his visitor of how the Baron had handled the cash
evenings in the store.
" That's the explanation," said the Commissioner coolly,
with a short laugh. " Were you quite blind ? Paid you
regularly out of your own pocket eh! He took it piece
by piece, I suppose are you sure that he didn't take larger
sums?"
Lahusen started.
" I suppose you do not leave the money in the shop till.
Where do you keep the larger sums ? "
" In the private office behind the inn room."
" Has he ever been there ? "
" Sometimes ; he helped me with my accounts occasion-
ally."
The Commissioner loosened the rope from the window
and closed the blinds. " I will close this room and keep
the key. You must leave everything just as I have found
it. And now lead me to your office."
Lahusen hastened down the stairs. A sudden idea that
the swindler might have utilized the last night to carry
out some big trick caused him to hurry very considerably.
29
German Mystery Stories
He threw open the door and stared into the narrow room.
Apparently everything was in perfect order and the safe
untouched. He let himself fall on a chair. " That was a
fright!"
Groth looked about him carefully. On a chair beside
the safe he saw a little box made of wire netting such as
is used as a tray for small safes. He raised it. " Did you
forget to shut this in ? " he asked.
Lahusen sprang up. " Why why, how did that get
there ? " He took out his keys, sought hastily for the key
of the safe with ringers that trembled, and finally opened it.
After one look, he sprang back with a cry of horror.
The inside compartments were half open. The bags of
gold and silver, the portfolio with the banknotes and the
draft of the Kruse firm, even the rolls of small change,
were all gone. Lahusen groaned and cursed and carried on
like a madman.
The Commissioner waited impatiently until he was some-
what calmer. " Do you want to waken the whole house
and the neighborhood, and give the swindler warning ? "
he asked energetically. " Calm yourself and answer my
questions first. This safe has been opened with the key
that belongs to it or another one just like it. You must
have guarded your keys very carelessly. You probably left
it in the lock and gave him a chance to make an impres-
sion. How much money was there in the safe ? "
" Nineteen thousand marks," groaned the robbed man,
sinking down in a chair.
The Commissioner seemed surprised. " As much as that ?
In gold or paper ? "
" Three thousand in gold," groaned Lahusen. " About
eleven thousand in banknotes and, my God! there was
the draft for four thousand eight hundred the rascal for-
got nothing."
" A draft ? " inquired the official, taking down the figures.
"When due?"
" On sight on sight ! that's the worst of all. He'll cash
it at once."
30
Dietrich Theden
" A sight draft ? Have you a telegraph station here ? "
" Yes, at the railway station. I will wire at once," said
Lahusen hastily.
" You can leave that to me," answered Groth coolly.
" To whom was the draft made out ? "
" Hamann & Son in Kiel good Lord ! if we could only
save that ! "
" Calm yourself, you will probably get back most of the
rest of it also. The draft is the noose in which the criminal
will hang himself." Groth spoke with conviction. " I will
tell you a few hurried facts about this Baron, so that you
may see what sort of a man he was. And then you must
do exactly as I tell you if you want us to help you officially.
I shan't bother to make a long report now. That will do
later." He closed his notebook and leaned back against
the table.
" Gliczek is an international swindler." Groth spoke
somewhat as if he were giving a lesson, but rather more
quickly. " His last operations were carried out in Vienna,
and he is being sought for by the Russian, English, and
Prussian authorities. He is one of the cleverest of his kind.
The police have never before had such a man to deal with.
He appears at places where we could by no possibility ex-
pect him to be, and he disappears as completely as a meteor
drops from the sky. He is considered a marvel in the cir-
cles of criminals, and also among the police officials. What
he has done here has proved that this opinion is justified.
Let us hope that his greed, and his anxiety to get as much
as possible, may lead him to his fate."
Groth looked at his watch hastily. " It is almost half-
past six already. Hamann & Son will open their offices at
nine o'clock, and the swindler will probably be among the
first to present his draft. I will telegraph the police to
notify the bank and watch for the thief there. And still
further : I do not think that he has sought safety in further
flight as yet, for he may not have known of his betrayal
through the woman. He will take for granted that several
hours will pass before his disappearance and his crime here
31
German Mystery Stories
are discovered, and until then he will feel quite safe in
Kiel. You must not warn him by any noise here. Until I
notify you, you must say nothing to anyone in this place.
Do not let a word of your loss escape you. Wait as pa-
tiently as you can until to-morrow evening, unless you
should hear from me before then. Should we not find him
at the bank, we want to have time to search the hotels and
all the criminal haunts for him, before he knows that he
has been discovered. To-morrow evening at the very latest
you will receive a telegram from me. And now, will you
please give me a sheet of paper? How will this do? " He
read the telegram he had written : " Important, Police
Headquarters, Kiel. Gliczek robbed safe of Lahusen in
Briigghofen. Fled probably to Kiel. Watch for him at
bank Hamann & Son, will probably present draft on sight.
Return at once myself. GROTH."
" I will be there myself a few minutes after nine," he said
to Lahusen, and took a cool official farewell.
Lahusen found his daughter waiting for him with his
morning coffee in their own little room behind the inn
room. The old man struggled hard to control his emotion,
as he did not wish his daughter to have any suspicions of
what had happened during the night. " Is everybody up ? "
he asked Dorothea, and then discovered that his household
had taken the opportunity for a little extra morning nap.
He hurried from door to door, calling them, and then re-
turned to the coffee table.
" The Baron has gone away," he said slowly, avoiding
looking at her.
She noticed his excitement and thought she understood
it. " It is better so, father," she said quietly and softly.
He did not answer, took a few swallows of coffee and
left the room. He closed and locked his plundered safe,
and went out to the shores of the lake.
The fresh autumn air cooled his heated brow and seemed
to relieve his pain. His blue eyes, under their heavy brows,
glanced around, but without seeing what was before them.
32
Dietrich Theden
The money lost, if it could not be recovered, was bad
enough, and would cost him the profit of an entire year.
More, perhaps, for it was impossible to oversee what the
thief might have taken during his evening " assistance " in
the shop. But, more than all that, he felt keenly the foolish
part which the swindler had forced him to play in his own
house a part that would now make him the laughing-
stock of the entire village. And then the thought of his
daughter, that was the worst of all. Had the rascal dared
to pretend affection for her simply for the sake of the
chance to rob the house? Or should the sweet girl really
have made an impression on the criminal, and had he really
the intention of marrying her, of carrying disgrace into a
respectable family? Lahusen rejoiced that his child had
not been carried away by a title and the appearance of
wealth, and that her sensible straightforward nature had
felt sufficient dislike of the man to refuse him in spite of
his amiability.
The natural impatience with which Lahusen awaited the
evening of the following day grew from hour to hour as
the appointed time came and went without the news for
which he was so anxiously waiting.
As the evening neared its end he sought to console him-
self by the thought that the official might not have wished
to content himself with the telegram, and that the following
morning would surely bring him a letter. He did not sleep
at all that night, arose early the following morning and
went to the post office before the usual delivery hour.
There were but a few letters for him, none of them from
Groth.
Lahusen staggered to the waiting room of the railway
station, which was still quite empty, and tried to collect his
thoughts. What should he do ? Should he wait longer, or
should he telegraph himself? Yes, he would do that. The
gentlemen at the police station would not be surprised at
his natural impatience.
He found a telegraph blank in the anteroom of the office,
33
German Mystery Stories
went back into the waiting room and wrote the following :
" Police Headquarters, Kiel. Please ask Commissioner
Groth for news whether Gliczek has been arrested and
stolen money saved." He signed his full name, paid for his
telegram without heeding the astonished expression of the
operator, and returned to his home.
The answer came just as he had seated himself for his
breakfast. He opened the envelope hastily and read:
" Christian Lahusen, Briigghofen. Commissioner Groth
unknown here. No information regarding Gliczek robbery
received. Police Headquarters, Kiel."
Lahusen staggered, handed the telegram to his daughter
and explained it stammeringly. " Twice betrayed by the
thief and by his accomplice ! " he groaned, as the full con-
sciousness of the truth burst upon him.
Dorothea accompanied him to the telegraph station.
" Was was there a telegram sent to the police station in
Kiel yesterday morning early sent by Commissioner
Groth about a robbery in my house ? " he asked of the
operator.
" Groth a robbery in your house ? " repeated the official,
looking through the file of the last two or three days. " No,
I can't find anything," he said finally.
Lahusen wired to Hamann & Son about the draft. The
answer, which was received almost immediately, read:
" Draft four thousand eight hundred presented yesterday
morning by Baron von Waregg. Claimed to be your son-
in-law and money paid to him. If any trouble, let us know.
Hamann & Son."
" Of course, of course," groaned Lahusen. " The thief
knew that he would be discovered, and he warded off pur-
suit and gained two or three days, by the help of his accom-
plice. A very clever trick ! The two rascals are probably
safe over the frontier with their booty by now ! "
The news about the swindler Baron and the robbery ran
like wildfire through the quiet village, and the peasants
gathered in scores in the inn room. They talked, disputed,
told of their own distrust and warnings, asserted that they
34
Dietrich Theden
had known all about it all along, and shrugged their shoul-
ders over the so easily deceived Lahusen. They were sorry
for him, but they declared that his punishment had not been
undeserved.
The real police, called in too late, took great interest in
the affair. But all they could do was to declare that all the
talk about the " marvel " and the " well-known interna-
tional swindler " was an invention of the imaginative ac-
complice. There were no records of any such person on
the police lists.
But Lahusen remembered his Baron for many a year,
long after he had overcome the actual money loss. When
he forgot himself and began to lay down the law to his
friends at the inn, the shrewd peasants would receive his
dictatorial advice with an amused smile, and would remark :
" Not even the Pope is infallible, they say. Remember your
Baron von Waregg, Christian."
35
Venice at the Period of "Andrea Delfin "
THE scene and time of Heyse's "Andrea Delfin" are alike tragic.
Venice was rarely a peaceful community in its early glory. But
the years from 1750 on until nearly th* close of the century saw
the very blackest period. The Queen of the Seas had become a
community torn by petty internal strife and jealousies.
Unsuccessful war had robbed the proud Republic of many of
her possessions. Aggression from without could not be combated
by a people harassed by tyranny within. Individual initiative was
killed by despotism, industry and commerce suffered in conse-
quence, and life in Venice offered nothing but the opportunity for
political intrigue or private and public debauchery.
The Great Council, that splendid machinery of government,
instituted in the early days of the Republic to secure the power to
the Sovereign People forever, had come to be only an instrument
in the hands of the nobility, helpless itself to control its own creature,
the Council of Ten. This smaller council, at first merely a com-
mittee of the Great Council, chosen to act on certain special cases
of urgency, had become the true seat of power, and with its own
appointed committee, the Three Inquisitors of State, ruled Venice
absolutely.
The Three Inquisitors were the final judges, and the mystery
which surrounded their actions, their very persons even, made their
rule a complete despotic tyranny, responsible to no one, sparing
no one. No citizen of Venice was safe from interference in his
most private affairs ; open murder and secret assassination were the
order of the day. The strife of the nobility among themselves rent
the city asunder. A party of the older families, prominent since
the earliest days of Venetian history, had been ousted from power
by a younger faction which had captured the Council of Ten. They
still held seats in the Great Council, but were powerless to control
the Ten. Their jealousy broke out in constant petty rebellions
which sharpened the tyranny of the Ten, and an era of oppression
that would have done credit to the most despotic form of monarchy
brooded over the nation calling itself a Republic. The absorption
of power and wealth in the hands of the few meant poverty and
loss of energy for the many, and the death knell of Venetian in-
dependence had sounded. EDITOR.
Paul Heyse
Andrea Delfin
"Vengeance is mine, said the Lord"
A BOUT the middle of the last century there stood, in
a side street of Venice, a quiet little street bearing
the cheerful name "Delia Cortesia/' a simple one-story
house. The Madonna was enthroned above its low portal,
in a niche framed by wooden columns and quaint stone
carvings. A tiny lamp, set in a globe of ruby glass, shone
out before the statue day and night. Just inside the lower
vestibule a steep staircase led to the upper rooms. On its
higher landing another little lamp, hanging on chains from
the ceiling, gave a dim light in the dark hall. In spite of
the eternal twilight that reigned there, the staircase was
the favorite place, for rest or work, of the owner, Giovanna
Danieli. Since the death of her husband, Madame Gio-
vanna had occupied the little dwelling with her only child,
her daughter Marietta, renting some of the rooms she did
not need to quiet, well-recommended strangers. Giovanna
would explain her love for the stairs by saying that her
eyes had become so weakened through weeping for her
lost husband that they could no longer endure the full day-
light. Her neighbors asserted that she enjoyed the oppor-
tunity her position on the stairs gave her for stopping
those who went in or out, and chatting with them.
However this might be, her favorite place of sojourn
afforded her little chance for amusement on the day and
hour when we first make her acquaintance. It was an
evening in August of the year 1762. For six months she
had had no lodgers, and she was unlikely to have any
visitors at so late an hour. Madame Giovanna had sent
37
German Mystery Stories
her daughter to bed, and had settled herself on the stairs
with a basket of vegetables beside her. But her hands
rested idly in her lap, her head fell back against the railing,
and she was just dozing off when three slow, heavy blows
on the house door awoke her. She listened in alarm, not
knowing whether she had really heard the noise. The blows
of the knocker were repeated. Madame Giovanna shook
her head, then walked slowly down the stairs, and asked
through the crack of the door who demanded entrance at
so late an hour.
A voice answered that a stranger stood outside who was
looking for a room. The house had been recommended to
him and he desired to remain for some time. His polite
manner of speaking awoke Giovanna's confidence sufficiently
to allow her to open the door. She saw a man in the quiet
black garb of the middle-class citizen, holding a leather bag
under one arm. His face attracted her attention. He was
neither young nor old, his beard was dark brown, his eyes
bright and fiery, his brow without a furrow. But around
his mouth were lines of weariness and his close-cropped
hair was quite gray.
" I regret to have disturbed you so late, my good woman/*
he said. " Tell me at once whether you have a room look-
ing out upon the canal. I come from Brescia, and my
physician told me that I must live near the water, as I need
the moist air for my weak lungs."
" Fortune be praised ! " exclaimed the widow. " My last
lodger left me because his room was too near the canal;
he complained that the water smelled as if rats had been
boiled in it. They do say here in Venice that our canal
water is a radical cure for all ills. But they mean it in the
sense of the many times when the authorities send out a
gondola to the lagoons with three passengers, and it returns
with only two. God preserve us all! Is your passport in
good order? Otherwise I may not take you."
" I have already shown it three times in Mestra, in the
police gondola outside the harbor, and at the Traghetto.
My name is Andrea Delfin, my business that of scribe to
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Paul Heyse
the notaries. I am a quiet man, and have as little to do
with the police as possible."
" That is good hearing," said the little woman, leading
her guest upstairs. " These are hard times, Ser Andrea.
Is it not pretty here ? " She opened the door of a large
room and motioned him to enter. " The window there
looks out upon the canal, and the other window opens on
a little alley. But you must close that window on account
of the bats. And across the canal there, so near that you
could almost touch it, is the palace of Countess Amadei, who
is as blond as yellow gold, and goes through as many hands.
I will bring you light and water in a moment. Do you wish
anything to eat ? "
The stranger threw a quick, sharp glance about the room,
went from one window to the other, and then threw his
bag upon a chair. " This will do very well/' he said. " We
will soon come to an agreement about the price, I fancy.
Bring me something to eat and a glass of wine if you
have it."
His voice was gentle, but there was something of com-
mand in his manner. The woman left the room, and as
soon as he was alone he walked at once to the window and
leaned out, looking down at the narrow canal. The black
water lay quiet, and opposite him rose the heavy mass of
the palace, turning its front to the other street and show-
ing him only a few dark windows. A narrow door opened
almost under his window and a black gondola lay chained
to the step.
All this seemed to please the stranger very much, particu-
larly the fact that his other window looked out upon a blank
wall, with no vis-a-vis to spy upon him. Below was a
narrow courtyard, which seemed abandoned entirely to cats,
rats, and birds of the night. A light from the hall bright-
ened the room as the door opened and the little widow en-
tered, bearing a candle. Behind her was her pretty young
daughter, Marietta, carrying a tray upon which were bread,
cold meat, fresh figs, and a half-filled bottle of wine. As
the girl set the tray down upon the table she _ whispered
39
German Mystery Stories
to her mother : " What a queer face he has ! He looks
like a new house in winter, when snow has fallen upon the
roof."
" Be quiet, foolish child," whispered the mother quickly.
" White hairs are oftentimes false witnesses. The gentle-
man is ill. Go and fetch the water now. He is very tired
and will want to go to sleep." During these whisperings
the stranger had sat by the window, resting his head in his
hands. When he looked up, he scarcely seemed to notice
the presence of the pretty girl, in spite of her polite cour-
tesy.
" Come and eat," said the widow. " The figs are fresh
and the ham is tender. This is a good wine which the
Doge's own cellar keeper sold to my husband. You have
traveled much, sir have you perchance met my husband
anywhere, Orso Danieli ? "
The stranger had poured out a glass of wine and taken
up one of the figs. " Good woman," he replied, " I have
never been far from Brescia, and know no one of the name
you mention."
Marietta had left the room, and her young voice was
heard trilling a cheerful song as she ran down the stairs.
" Just hear that child ! " exclaimed Madame Giovanna.
" She would rather dance and sing all day than do any-
thing else. And it's ill singing here in Venice, where they
say it's a good thing the fishes are dumb, because of the
terrible things they might tell. But her father was just
like that. My Orso was the best workman in Murano
where they make the colored glass. They say you can't
find it anywhere else in the world. He had a gay heart,
and he said to me one day, ' Giovanna/ he said, ' the air
here chokes me. Just yesterday they hung a man because
he dared to talk against the Council of Ten. Therefore,
Giovanna/ said he, 'I'm off for France. I know my work,
and just as soon as I've earned enough, you and the child
can follow me.' He laughed when he kissed me good-by,
but I wept, sir. Then a year later, sir, what do you suppose
happened? The Signoria sent to me that I should write
40
Paul Heyse
him he must come back at once. No workman from Mu-
rano must dare to carry his skill and his knowledge into
another country, they said. He laughed at the letter, but
one morning they dragged me out of my bed, and took me
with the child to the lead roofs then they told me to write
him again and tell him they would keep me there till he
came himself. After that he wrote that he was coming.
' But I watched and watched, weeks and months, and oh,
sir! my heart grew heavy and my head was sick for it's
hell out there under the lead roofs. And in the third month
they let us out and sent us home, and told me that my Orso
had died of fever in Milan. Others told me that, too but
I know the Signoria. Dead? Does a man die when he
knows his wife and child are waiting for him under the
lead roofs ? "
" And what do you think has happened to your hus-
band ? " asked the stranger.
She turned her eyes on him with a look which reminded
him afresh of the weeks she had spent under the dreaded
" lead roofs." " Many a man lives and does not come
back," she said. " And many a man is dead and yet he
comes back. But it's best that I talk no more about it.
How can I know that you may not repeat to the Tribunal
what I am saying? You look like an honest man, but we
trust no one in Venice to-day."
There was a pause. The stranger had pushed back his
plate and was listening attentively. " I cannot blame you
if you will not tell me your secret," he said. " But how
comes it, my good woman, that you do not rebel? you
and all the others in Venice who have suffered so much at
the hands of this Tribunal? I have troubled myself little
with political questions, but I have heard that only a year
ago there was an uprising against the Secret Tribunal, an
uprising led by a member of the nobility. Then, finally,
when the disturbance was quelled and the might of the
secret judges stronger than ever, why then did the people
rejoice and heap scorn upon the nobility? Why was there
no one brave enough to protest when the Inquisitors sent
German Mystery Stories
their rash enemy into exile in Verona? I know little about
it, as I have said but I think it strange that the people of
Venice should complain of their tyrants, and then rejoice
at the defeat of those who would put an end to the
tyranny ? "
The widow shook her head. " Then you never saw
him, the Advocate Signer Angelo Querini, he whom they
exiled? I saw him, sir, and many other poor people have
seen him, and we all know him for an honest gentleman
and a great scholar. But we could see also that he was
a nobleman, and that all that he did and said against the
Tribunal, he did and said not for the poor people but for
the great gentlemen. But it's all the same to the sheep,
sir, whether they are slaughtered by the butcher or eaten
by the wolf. And therefore, the people rejoiced when the
big thief hung the little one."
The stranger seemed about to answer, but contented
himself with a short laugh. Marietta reentered, bearing a
pitcher of water and a little pan of sharp-smelling incense,
which she held to the walls and ceilings to kill the flies
hanging there in myriads. The women chattered gayly,
but their new guest did not seem interested. He bade them
a curt farewell when they finally turned to leave him, and
when alone he sat for a long time motionless at his table.
The shadows deepened in his face, and his whole figure
was so quiet one might have thought him dead, had it not
been for the wild fire in his eyes.
The clock from a neighboring church, striking the
eleventh hour, aroused him from his thoughts. The sharp-
smelling smoke of the incense still hung about the low
ceiling; Andrea opened the window to clear the air. He
saw a light in one of the windows opposite, and through
the opening of a white curtain he could see a girl seated
at a table eating and drinking. Her face had a care-free
and light-hearted expression, although she was no longer in
her first youth. There was something studied in the dis-
order of her dress and hair, something that was self-con-
scious but not unpleasing. She must have noticed that the
42
Paul Heyse
room opposite was occupied, but she continued her supper
calmly. Then she set the empty dishes aside and moved
the table with the lamp against the wall, that the light might
fall on a tall mirror in the background. Whereupon she
began to try on, one after the other, a number of fancy
costumes which lay thrown about on the chairs. Her back
was turned to the man opposite, but he could see her pic-
ture clearly in the mirror. And he could also see that the
girl was watching his reflection sharply. As he remained
motionless and she did not see the expected signs of ap-
plause for her appearance in her changing garb, she grew
impatient. She took up a large red turban on which a
heron's feather was fastened by a shining clasp. The vivid
coloring looked well with her olive skin, and she made a
deep bow to herself in the mirror. Then she turned sud-
denly and came to the window, pushing back the curtain.
" Good evening, Monsu," she said cheerily. " You are my
new neighbor, I perceive. I hope that you will not play
the flute all night as your predecessor did, keeping me
awake thereby."
" Fair neighbor," answered the stranger, " I am not
likely to disturb you with any sort of music. I am a sick
man who is thankful if he is not disturbed himself."
" You are ill ? " answered the girl. " Are you rich ? "
"No. Why do you ask?"
" Because it is very sad to be ill and poor at the same
time. Who are you ? "
" My name is Andrea D elfin. I have been a scribe of the
court in Brescia, and have come here to take service with a
notary."
The answer seemed to disappoint her. " And who are
you, fair maiden ? " Andrea continued, with an interest in
his tone belied by the expression of his face. " It will be
a comfort for me in my suffering, to know that you are so
near me."
This seemed to be what the girl was looking for, and she
smiled as if pleased. " To you I am the Princess Smeral-
dina," she said, " and I will allow you to admire me from
43
German Mystery Stories
a distance. When I put on this turban it is a sign that
I am willing to chat with you. For I find many hours
hanging weary on my hands here. You must know," she
continued in a changed tone, " that my mistress, the coun-
tess, will not permit me to have a lover, although she
changes her own lovers more often than she changes her
gowns. If it were not that occasionally some pleasing
stranger takes your room "
" Who is the present lover of your mistress ? " interrupted
Andrea. "Does she receive the high nobility of Venice?
Are the foreign ambassadors among her visitors ? "
" They come to her masked, usually," answered Smeral-
dina. " But I know that young Gritti is her favorite now ;
she loves him more than I have ever seen her love anyone
since I have been with her. She loves him more than she
does the Austrian ambassador, who pays court to her until
the others laugh at him. Do you know my countess ? She
is very beautiful."
" I am a stranger here, child. I have never seen her."
The girl laughed a sly laugh. " She paints her face, al-
though she is not yet thirty. But you can see her easily
if you wish to. I will arrange it some time. But good-
night now. I must go to her."
She shut the window. " Poor and ill " she said to
herself as she drew the curtain. " Well, it is better than
nothing."
The man opposite had closed his window also. " I might
find that useful," he said to himself, with an expression
which showed that there was no thought of love in his mind.
He unpacked his bag, and laid the few articles of cloth-
ing and the book or two which it contained in a cupboard
in the wall. One of the books fell from his hand, and the
stone on which it struck gave forth a hollow tone. Andrea
put out his light at once, bolted his door, and commenced
to examine the floor by the pale glimmer that came in
through the window. In a few moments he found that it
was possible to raise the stone, and beneath it he discovered
a hole of considerable size. He removed his outer coat and
44
Paul Heyse
unbuckled a heavy belt with well-filled pockets, which had
been fastened round his body. He was about to put it in
the hole when he suddenly halted. " No," he exclaimed,
" this may be a trap laid by the police. It is much too
inviting to be safe."
He replaced the stone and sought for another, safer,
hiding place for his secrets. The window looking out on
the blind alley was barred, but the openings were large
enough to admit of the passage of an arm. He felt about
on the outer wall and discovered a tiny hole just under the
sill. It could not be seen from below, and the window
ledge hid it from above. He dug at the hole noiselessly
with his dagger, arid had soon widened it sufficiently to lay
his belt in it. He examined it all closely when his work
was done, to see that there was nothing of it visible, and
then closed the window again. An hour later he was fast
asleep, his lips tight set, as if fearing to reveal his secrets
even in a dream.
The following day the newcomer arose early. He
paused on the stair, where his landlady sat at her accus-
tomed place, just long enough to inquire the way to the
offices of several notaries whose names had been given
him by a friend in Brescia. The widow looked at her guest
in curiosity. He seemed so blind to everything about him,
even to the young beauty of her Marietta. But in spite of
his gray hair and the illness of which he had spoken, his
step was quick and firm. His chest was deep and the
color of his face was clear and youthful. Many a woman
looked after him as he passed through the streets, although
he did not seem to notice them in return.
Although Andrea had been so careful in asking direc-
tions from Madame Giovanna, when once out of his own
street he threaded the net of alleys and canals as if quite
at home there. Several hours passed in a vain search for
work. In spite of the recommendations he had brought
from Brescia, and in spite of the modesty of his manner,
there was a certain look of pride in his carriage which
45
German Mystery Stories
seemed to say that he considered the work he sought be-
neath his dignity. Finally, he found a position with a very
low salary in the office of a little notary in a side street.
The haste with which he consented to take the position
made the owner of the office think that his new clerk was
probably one of the many impoverished noblemen now
trying to earn a livelihood by their own labor.
Andrea seemed quite satisfied with the result of his
morning's work and entered the nearest inn, a haunt of the
poorer classes, to take his dinner. He sat in a corner near
the door and ate the simple food without complaint, al-
though he did not seem to care for the wine after he had
tasted it. He was about to pay for his food when his
neighbor, whom he had not noticed hitherto, spoke to him.
This was a man of about thirty years old, with curly blond
hair, wearing the usual Venetian costume of quiet black,
a garb which did not at once betray his Jewish descent.
He wore heavy golden rings in his ears and jeweled
buckles on his shoes, while his linen was far from clean
and his clothes were unbrushed.
" You do not seem to like the wine, sir," he said in a
low tone, turning to Andrea. " You have probably come
here by mistake. They are not accustomed to serving
guests of rank in this house."
" I beg your pardon, sir," replied Andrea quietly.
" What do you know of my rank ? "
" I can see by the way you eat that you do not be-
long to the class of those who come here daily," said the
Jew.
Andrea looked at him sharply, then a sudden thought
seemed to change his mood and impel him to meet the
other with more friendliness. " You are a good judge of
men," he said. " I have known better days, although I am
the son of a small merchant and have studied law with-
out any great success. But my father became bankrupt,
and a poor scribe and lawyer's apprentice has no right to
expect anything better than he can find in such a place as
this."
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Paul Heyse
" A scholar has always a right to demand respect," said
the other with a polite smile. " I should be very glad
to be of service to you if I could. I have always desired
the company of gentlemen of learning. Might I suggest
that you drink a glass of better wine with me ? "
" I cannot afford better wine," said the other indiffer-
ently.
" I would look upon it as an honor to be allowed to show
you our Venetian hospitality "
Andrea was about to put an end to the conversation
when he noticed the landlord beckoning to him from the
back of the room. He noticed also that the other guests
seemed much interested in his conversation with the Jew.
With the excuse that he must first pay his account, he
left his chair and walked to the table where sat the land-
lord. The old man whispered to him, " Oh, sir, be care-
ful! That is a dangerous man. The Inquisitors pay him
for prying out the secrets of all strangers who come here.
I have to endure his presence to avoid trouble, but I can
at least warn you."
Andrea thanked him, returned to his place and said to
his officious neighbor, " I will go with you, sir, if you
desire." Then in a lower tone, " I can see that they take
you for a spy here. Let us continue our conversation else-
where."
The Jew's face paled. " By God ! " he said, " they wrong
me. My business leads me in and out of many houses;
but what do I care for the secrets that may be hidden
there? However, I cannot blame these people for their
watchfulness. The bloodhounds of the Signoria are in
every street."
" But in my opinion, Ser But what is your name? "
" Samuele."
" In my opinion, Ser Samuele, you think too hardly of
those who are working for the good of the State, in that
they discover all conspiracies against the Republic and
frustrate them before they become dangerous."
The Jew stood still and caught at the other's arm.
47
German Mystery Stories
"Why did I not recognize you at once? Since when are
you in the service ? "
" I ? Since day after to-morrow."
" Are you mocking me, sir? "
" Most assuredly not. It is my serious intention to take
service in those ranks. I am very poor as I told you, and
the employment I have been able to obtain is miserably
paid. I wish to better my condition."
" Your confidence honors me," said the Jew thought-
fully. " But the gentlemen do not like to take strangers
into their service, until they have gone through with a
trial apprenticeship. If my purse can be of any service
to you during this time I ask but very low rates of in-
terest from my friends."
" I am grateful to you, but your protection and your
recommendation are of greater service to me. This is my
house, and I must leave you now, for I have much work
to do. When I am needed, remember me : Andrea Delfin,
Calle della Cortesia."
Andrea could not mount the stairs to reach his room
without passing his little landlady, who, of course, was
most anxious to know what he had done. She was far
more discontented than he seemed to be at the position
he had found. And she was much worried that he would
not return to the streets, bright with sunshine, and enjoy
the concert in the neighboring square. Even little Mari-
etta, when she had brought him the supper he asked for
later in the day, was too much abashed by the gravity of
his expression to chatter as was her wont. " Oh, mother,"
she exclaimed, as she returned to the staircase, " I don't
want to go into his room again. He has eyes like the
martyr in the picture in the chapel. I can't laugh when he
looks at me like that."
But little Marietta would have been very much surprised
if she could have seen their guest several hours later. Un-
der cover of the night, he stood at his window in lively
conversation with the maid opposite.
" Fair Smeraldina," he said, " I could scarce await the
Paul Heyse
hour when I should see you again. As I passed the gold-
smith's shop, I thought of you and bought you this brooch.
It is not fine enough for you, but at least it is more real
than the clasp on your turban. Open the window and I
will throw it over, in the hope of going the same way
myself soon."
" You are very gallant," smiled the girl, catching the lit-
tle package. " And what good taste you have ! I am glad
of anything to make me rejoice to-day. It has been a hard
day for us, for the countess is in a very evil humor. Her
lover, the son of Senator Gritti, has not been here for four
and twenty hours. She sent to his house, but he is miss-
ing from there also and it is feared that he has been im-
prisoned. The countess will see no one. She lies on her
sofa, weeping, and struck at me when I would comfort
her."
" Does no one know of what the young man is ac-
cused?"
" I would be willing to take a vow of eternal chastity, sir,
if that poor boy is found ever to have conspired against
the State. He was only three and twenty, and he thought
of nothing but the countess or perhaps his game of cards.
But the gentlemen of the Inquisition can make a hang-
man's rope out of a cobweb."
" Speak more cautiously when you mention the authori-
ties," said Andrea gently. " The wisdom of our fathers
gave them the power, it is not for us to doubt it."
The girl looked at him to see whether he was in earnest,
but it was not easy to read his features. " Be not so grave,
I pray you," she said. " I find it very stupid. You have
been here but for a short time, therefore you still have
some respect for these hangmen, who may, perhaps, look
quite reverend from a distance. But I've seen them here
at the card table and I can assure you that they're just like
the rest of us."
" That may be, my child," he answered. " But they
have the power, and it is not wise for a poor citizen like
myself to utter such speeches at an open window."
49
German Mystery Stories
" You may say what you like here," said the maid.
" There are few windows looking out on the canal and
the rooms are empty at this hour. On your side there is
nothing but a blank wall. But will you not come over
for an hour and drink a glass of wine with me? I have
a board here which will make a bridge between our two
windows. Are you easily dizzy ? "
" No, indeed, fair friend. Patience for a moment and
then I am ready to come to you." Andrea put out the
light, bolted the door of his room, listened a moment, and
then went to the window. Smeraldina had her improvised
bridge ready and stood beckoning to him. He sprang
up onto the window sill, looked down at the black water
below with a calm eye, and with a single step had crossed
the space. She caught him in her arms as he sprang down
on the other side and her lips touched his cheek. But
he assumed a modest demeanor, as if awed by the respect
due his friend in her own home. The girl drew in the
plank, brought cards and wine from a cupboard, and the
two sat down to lively chatter.
Smeraldina had just poured herself the second glass of
wine and was gently scolding her guest for not drinking
more, when a bell shrilled out from somewhere in the
house. The girl threw down her cards angrily and rose
from her chair. " See how annoying it is, I haven't an
hour to myself ! But be patient for a few moments, I will
return as quickly as I can/'
Left alone, Andrea went to the window and looked care-
fully at the space of wall between his own window and
the canal. It was not more than twenty feet in height and
the plaster had become loosened in so many places that
the naked stones afforded sufficient foothold for a good
climber. The little door of the palace was immediately
under the window at which he stood, and between the boat
lying chained there and the wall opposite there was only
just room for a second gondola to pass.
" I could not have arranged it better myself/' he mur-
mured, as he looked down thoughtfully at the dark waters
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Paul Heyse
flowing between the blank walls. In the distance a pale
light appeared, moving nearer, and in a little while the
noise of oars floated up to him. A gondola came slowly
down the stream and halted at the door below. The
listener at the window drew back, but he could see a man
step from the boat, and he heard three heavy blows of the
knocker beneath. From within the house a voice asked
who it was that demanded entrance.
" Open ! in the name of the Mighty Council of the Ten ! "
was the answer. The door was opened and closed again be-
hind the nightly visitor.
A few moments later, Smeraldina hurried back into her
room in great excitement. " Did you hear it ? " she whis-
pered. " Oh ! they have come to take our countess
away! They will kill her! and who will pay me the six
months' wages she owes me ? "
" Be calm, dear child," he answered. " You will find
good friends who will not forsake you. But I will be
very grateful to you if you could hide me somewhere where
I might hear what the Mighty Council has to say to your
mistress. I am a stranger here and it would interest me
greatly."
The girl thought a moment. Then she said, " I could
do it easily the hiding place is a good one but suppose
it should be discovered ? "
" I will take it all upon myself, my dear, and no one
shall know who let me into the house. Here is money,
in case I may not be able to show my gratitude to you
later. But if all goes well, you shall see that I am will-
ing to divide the little I have with such a kind friend."
She slipped the money into her pocket, opened the door
and looked out into the blackness of the corridor.
" Take off your shoes," she whispered. " Then give me
your hand and follow wherever I may lead you. Every-
one in the house is asleep except the doorkeeper."
She extinguished her lamp and slipped through the cor-
ridor, drawing him after her. They passed through sev-
eral dark rooms, then entered a large dancing hall, dimly
German Mystery Stories
lighted by a pale glimmer falling through the three high
windows. On one side a staircase led up to a balcony
for the musicians. " Have a care/' warned the girl. " The
steps creak. I will leave you alone now. You will find a
crack in the wall up there, through which you can look
down into the countess's reception room. But do not
move from your place until I come for you."
She left him alone and he mounted the few steps and
felt along the wall until he came to the crack. The neigh-
boring room was separated from the great hall by a wooden
partition only, as in earlier days the two had been one.
Andrea knelt down and put his eye to the crack in the
wall, through which a ray of light fell. Uncomfortable as
his position was, there were many who would have been
glad to change with him. A large silver candelabrum stood
on the table, beside the divan upon which the countess
lay. She was clad in a loose gown, which showed that she
had not expected visitors at this hour. Her rich red-blond
hair was caught up carelessly, her eyes, although reddened
with weeping, still shone brilliantly. The man who sat
opposite her in an armchair, turning his back to Andrea,
seemed to be watching her sharply. He sat motionless,
listening quietly to the angry words of the beautiful
woman.
" I am astonished," said the countess, in a bitter tone.
" I am astonished that you dare to show yourself here, now
that you have so shamefully broken all your solemn prom-
ises to me. Is it for this that I have done you so many
services? What have you done with him, with my poor
friend, the only one I cared for and whom you promised
to spare, no matter what happened? Was there no other
that you could find if your prisons are empty? Give him
back to me or I will break off all relations with you I will
leave Venice and follow my lover in his exile. You will
soon see what you have lost by this betrayal."
" You forget, countess," said the man, " that we have
means to prevent your flight, or to find you wherever you
might go. Young Gritti deserved his punishment. In spite
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Paul Heyse
of our warnings, he continued to be seen everywhere with
the secretary of the Austrian Ambassador, a young man
who knows much too much. It was a sign of our paternal
kindness toward him that we exiled him before he became
more guilty. But we know what we owe you, Leonora.
And therefore I have been sent to you to tell you of this,
and to show you how all can be made good again if you
will only be sensible."
" I am tired of taking orders from you," she said hastily.
" I see now that it is impossible to have faith in you ; I
see now that it is useless to expect any return from you
for all I have done. I want no more of you. I need you
no longer."
" I am only sorry," he interrupted, " that we still need
you. You will understand, Leonora, that it will not be
possible for us to allow you, who know so many secrets
of the Republic, to travel in foreign parts. You might fall
a victim to the disease of the times, the desire to write
memoirs. Venice and you are still inseparable, and you
should by this time understand that it will not take us
long to reconcile you."
" I want no reconciliation," she cried passionately, with
tears in her eyes. " What would it mean to me ? I want
nothing I know nothing but the one thought that I
have lost my poor Gritti ! "
" You shall have him back, Leonora. But not at once,
for his sudden return would interfere with our plans."
" And how long must I wait ? " she asked.
" That depends upon you," he answered. " How much
time do you need to bring a young man to your feet ? One
who has a reputation for virtue ? "
A gleam of interest brightened the despair of her face.
" Of whom are you speaking?" she asked.
" I mean the young German who was Gritti's friend, the
secretary of the Viennese minister. You know him ? "
" I saw him at the last regatta."
" We have reason to believe that he is in communication
with our opponents, and that he is utilizing the discontent
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German Mystery Stories
left by Querini's banishment for the good of his own sov-
ereign. But he is very clever and we can obtain no proofs.
For this we turn to you, Leonora; we want you to give
us the key to the secrets of this well-guarded mind. We
could hope for nothing from you as long as Gritti was
here. His exile leaves you free and gives you an excuse
for a nearer acquaintance with his friend. The rest I leav.e
to the power of your charms, which are never greater than
where they meet resistance."
She lay silent for a few moments ; her eyes brightening,
her beautiful mouth curving to a smile. " Then you prom-
ise to call Gritti back at once, when I have handed the
other over to you ? "
" We promise."
" You will not have to wait long then." She stood up
and paced the room. Andrea could see her when she
passed within the area commanded by the crack at which
he sat. Her large, dark eyes, glancing upward, rested on
his hiding place. He started involuntarily as if discovered.
The man in the armchair stood up also, but seemed to
be blind to her beauty, for he continued to talk in a busi-
nesslike tone :
" And one thing more, Leonora, the sum which we still
owe you for the supper you gave Candiano "
She started violently and changed color. " By all the
saints," she exclaimed, " do not mention that again give
the rest of the money to the Church that they may read
masses for his soul and for mine. Whenever I hear that
name, it sounds in my ears like the trumpet of the judg-
ment day."
" You are a child," said the other. " The responsibility
for that supper falls on us, not on you. Young Candiano
was guilty of treason, but his connections and his high
rank compelled us to punish him in secret. He died quietly
in his bed, and no one could have imagined that he
drank death here in your house. Or have you heard any
rumors?"
She trembled and looked down. "No," she said; "but
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Paul Heyse
in the night I awake with a start and some voice seems
to call to me, ' You should not have done that not
that!'"
" It is your nerves, Leonora ; you must conquer them.
There is no one left who has the right to inquire into his
death. His elder brother and his sister perished, as you
know, by the burning of their home. The money is wait-
ing for you whenever you wish to send for it. Good night,
countess. I will ^not keep you awake any longer. Rest
well, that the sun of your beauty may shine cloudless over
the just and the unjust. Good night, Leonora! "
He bowed to her lightly and walked toward the door.
For a fleeting moment Andrea could see his cold features.
It was a face without a soul and without passion, illumined
only by the expression of a mighty will. He put on a mask
and threw a black cloak over his shoulder, then left the
room. A moment later Andrea heard the girl's voice calling
him softly. Like a man who has received a heavy blow he
staggered down from the balcony and followed the maiden
without a word. Her room was light again, the wine and
cards stood ready on the table. But the man's face was
darkened by heavy shadows, so black that it frightened even
Smeraldina's careless nature. " You look as if you had
seen a ghost," she said. " Take a glass of wine and tell
me what you have heard. It passed off better than we ex-
pected."
" Oh, yes," he said, with forced calm. " The Ten are
favorably disposed toward your mistress, and you are likely
to receive your wages very soon. But they spoke so softly
that I heard little, and I am very tired from kneeling on
the hard boards. I will be better able to appreciate your
kindness another time. To-night I must sleep." He sprang
upon the board which she had laid across the window,
and when he reached his own room he looked down into
the canal, at the end of which the light of the disappearing
gondola shone dimly. He called a good night over to the
opposite window, and then disappeared into the darkness
of his room, while Smeraldina endeavored in vain to ex-
55
German Mystery Stories
plain to herself the strange contrasts in the behavior of
her new friend.
A week passed and yet she had made very little advance
in the conquest of her new neighbor. One evening after
having won the favor of the doorkeeper, she let him in at
the front door, led him through the house to the little
portal over the canal and entered the gondola with him.
He handled the oars himself, rowing slowly through the
dark labyrinth of water streets until they reached the Grand
Canal. But in spite of the tete-a-tete with Smeraldina,
he did not seem to be in a very loving mood, and listened
carelessly to her chattering comments on her mistress and
the society in which she moved. From them he learned
that for the last few days the secretary of the Austrian
Embassy had spent long hours with the countess. The
lady was in a better humor, and showered presents on her
handmaiden. Andrea listened so inattentively that the
girl did not object when he turned the boat and took the
shortest way home. He drove the narrow gondola up to
the steps, threw the chain around the post, and asked for
the key which locked it. The girl was already in the door-
way when her companion called out to her that he had un-
fortunately dropped the little key into the water. This
seemed to annoy her; but with her customary carelessness
she comforted him with the assurance that there was a
second key somewhere in the house. As she let him out
of the front door of the palace an hour later, he touched
her cheek in a hasty kiss as he said good-by.
The next morning, he explained to his landlady that
there was so much work in his new master's office that he
had been obliged to spend the night there. This was the
only time that he had asked for the key of the house.
Usually he came home at twilight, ate a light supper and
retired early. His landlady sang his praises to all her
neighbors as a model lodger.
On the morning of the second Sunday after Andrea's
advent in the widow's house, the little woman entered his
room in great excitement. She was dressed in her best
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Paul Heyse
clothes, as if just returning from church, but her face was
drawn in emotion. He sat at his table reading, his face
paler than usual, but his eye calm and quiet. " You are
sitting here so quietly, sir!" she exclaimed. "And all
Venice in excitement? Holy Jesus! To think that this
should happen and I thought that nothing more could
occur here that would surprise me ! "
"Of what are you speaking, good woman?" he asked
in an indifferent tone.
She threw herself into a chair, breathless. " Would you
believe it! Last night, between eleven o'clock and mid-
night, the noble Lord Lorenzo Venier, the highest of our
three grand Inquisitors, was murdered on the doorstep of
his own house! "
" Was he an old man ? " asked Andrea calmly.
" Misericordia ! you talk as if he had died in his bed f
You are no Venetian, and you cannot understand what it
means when an Inquisitor is murdered. But the most ter-
rible thing about it is that on the dagger which they found
in the wound were the words : ' Death to all Inquisitors ! '
That is no private revenge; that is a political murder, so
my neighbor says. And it means conspiracy and revolu-
tion "
" Have they any clew to the murderer, Madame Gio-
vanna?"
" Not the faintest," answered the widow. " It was a
dark, windy night; there was not a gondola to be seen
on the Grand Canal, where his palace is. He came home
alone through a side street, was struck down, and lived
just long enough to arouse the doorkeeper. There was
nobody to be seen. But I know what I know. You are
a good man and you will not tell anyone if I say to you
that I know the hand that shed this blood."
He looked at her firmly. " Say what you wish, I will
not betray you."
She came close to him. " Did I not tell you that many
a man may be dead and may yet come home? He could
not forget that they threw his wife and child into the prison
57
German Mystery Stories
under the lead roofs. But for God's sake, not a word of
this." She looked about in the room and shivered. Then
she continued in a whisper, " I heard queer noises last
night as if something were creeping up the walls and
splashing gently in the water and there was a rattling
at your window and the bats in the alley flew about as
if frightened, until long after midnight. I know what it
was. He came after he had done it he came to greet us
because we had never said good-by to him."
Andrea's head was bowed as he said that he had slept so
soundly that he had heard nothing in the night. He said
also that it was best for her to repeat nothing of what she
had told him, since it was a dangerous thing to have any
knowledge of such a crime, even if committed by a ghost.
Then he left the house and went out into the tumult on the
street.
It was plain to be seen that some great excitement
moved the minds of the crowds pouring toward St. Mark's
Square from every direction. There was no singing, no
laughing, nothing but sighs or whispered words and a
steady crowding toward the center of the city. Andrea
mingled with the stream, his hat drawn deep over his eyes,
his hands crossed carelessly on his back. Now he entered
St. Mark's Square, where the greatest crowd was gathered
in front of the stately, ancient palace of the Doges. A
company of soldiers was posted at the entrance, and no
one allowed to enter who did not belong to the greater
council. Upstairs, in the wide hall decorated by trophies
of the great deeds of the Republic, the flower of Venetian
nobility sat in secret conclave, and the crowd below were
waiting to hear the decision. Andrea worked his way
through until he had almost reached the palace, throwing
a glance as he passed into the interior of the cathedral,
which was filled to the last corner. In a few moments
more he stood between the two high columns on the edge
of the Piazetta Quay, watching the jam of black gondolas
with their gleaming, steel-shod prows that flashed back
the rays of the sun.
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Paul Heyse
A large, open gondola, rowed by two servants in rich
livery, flew past the quay. Under the canopy a lady lay
carelessly inclining on the soft cushions, her head resting
in her hand. Diamonds flashed from her red-gold hair;
her eyes were resting on the face of a young man who sat
opposite her, talking eagerly. She raised her head and
looked out proudly at the crowd on the Piazetta. "The
blond countess," Andrea heard the people behind him mur-
mur. He turned with a shudder and found himself face to
face with the Jew, Samuele.
" Where have you been all these days, sir? " exclaimed
the latter. " I have been looking for you everywhere. If
you will come with me I have much to tell you that may
interest you." He called up a gondola and drew Andrea
in with him.
"What have you to say to me?" began Andrea, "and
where are you taking me ? "
" Do not go to your notary to-morrow morning," said
the Jew. " It may be possible that I shall fetch you for a
more lucrative errand."
" W r hat do you mean ? "
" You know what happened last night? It is unheard of
that now, twelve hours after such a murder here in Venice,
there is no trace of the murderer. We will have lost our
credit with the Signoria, with the people, and with all the
strangers who expect our police here to work wonders.
The Council of Ten are angry at such poor service. They
will be looking for new helpers. And if you think still
as you did ten days ago, you may soon find better work
than that which you are doing for your notary. I know
faces, and I can see that you have yours in your control.
The man who can hide his own thoughts is the man to
discover the thoughts of others."
" I am still of the same mind. But who is to decide
whether I can be of use ? "
" The Tribunal will question you ; all I can do is to rec-
ommend you. They are now choosing the third man again.
/ would not take the position, no matter what they might
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German Mystery Stories
offer me. The inscription on that dagger was not made
for amusement."
" But there is no doubt that the man who is chosen must
accept the position? Or will he refuse?"
" Refuse ! Do you not know that the Republic has a
heavy punishment for any man who dare refuse office?"
They were now passing a broad stairway leading down
to the water, about which a crowd of gondolas swayed and
pushed. It was the Palazzo Venier, where the dead man
lay. Andrea forced himself to appear calm, and inquired,
41 Have you business here, Samuele? or is it only curiosity
to see the dead that brings you?"
" I am here on business," answered the Jew, " and it may
prove useful to you to come with me. Do you know, I
would be willing to wager that among all these who come
here apparently to condole, there are not a few of our
enemies. The murderer himself, perhaps, may be even
now dismounting from one of these gondolas. He may be
clever enough to know that he is safer here than any-
where else, for the police are searching everywhere
everywhere the slightest suspicion could fall." With these
words, he sprang out of the gondola and held out his hand
to Andrea. " Will it alarm you to see the dead? " he asked.
" No, indeed, Samuele," answered Andrea quickly. " Let
us go upstairs and pay our respects to the great man; he
was not likely to have received us so unceremoniously dur-
ing his lifetime."
In the great hall of the palace the catafalque was set up
under a high canopy. Tall cypresses reached to the ceiling,
the candles on high silver candelabra flared in the breeze
that came from the open balcony, and four servants in
mourning livery held watch at the corners of the bier.
The sharp profile of the dead man rose white from the
black velvet of his shroud. Andrea recognized the fea-
tures that he had seen, and cherished in his memory, from
that short moment in Leonora's room. But no quivering of
lips or eyes betrayed that the murderer stood beside his
victim.
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Paul Heyse
An hour later, Andrea returned to his home and heard
from his landlady that the police had searched the room
during his absence, but that they had found everything in
good order. The little woman gave him much advice as
to how to act in this dangerous time, when suspicion might
fall upon one for the slightest carelessness. Early next
morning, before he had arisen, Samuele entered his room.
" If you are anxious to earn fourteen ducats a month," said
the Jew, " come with me at once."
" Have they chosen the new Inquisitor? " asked Andrea.
" I believe so."
" And they have no clew to the conspiracy?,"
" None at all. The nobility are much alarmed, and are
shutting themselves up in their houses. The foreign am-
bassadors are sending, one after the other, their solemn as-
surances that they have had nothing to do with this deed.
The Three will hold themselves more in secret than ever,
and there will be a price set upon the head of the murderer
which will make a poor man rich for the rest of his life."
When they reached the palace, Samuele knocked at a lit-
tle door in the courtyard and was allowed to enter up a
narrow stairway. After they had passed several armed
sentries, they were ushered into an apartment of medium
size, the windows of which were half covered by heavy
curtains. Three men, in masks which almost hid their
faces, were walking up and down engaged in a whispered
conversation. A fourth man, unmasked, sat at a table,
writing by the light of a single candle.
"Is this the stranger of whom you spoke?" asked the
scribe.
" Yes, your honor."
" You may go now, Samuele." The Jew bowed and
left the room.
There was a pause, during which the secretary of the
Tribunal looked through several papers before him. Then
he turned a sharp glance on the stranger and said : " Your
name is Andrea Delfin. Are you related to the Venetian,
nobili of this name?"
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German Mystery Stories
" Not that I know of. My family have lived for many
generations in Brescia."
" You live in the Calle della Cortesia, in the house of
Giovanna Danieli. You desire to enter the service of the
mighty Council ? "
" I wish to offer my services to the Republic."
" Your papers from Brescia appear to be in good order.
The notary with whom you worked there for five years
gives you the name of a sensible and reliable man. But
we know nothing of the six or seven years before you came
to him. Were you in Brescia during that time?"
" No, your honor," answered Andrea quietly. " When
I had exhausted my small patrimony, I was obliged
to take a position as servant, and I traveled with my
master."
"And your references?"
" They were stolen from me, with the bag which con-
tained my entire property. I was tired of traveling and
returned to Brescia. My various masters had utilized me
for secretary work at times. Therefore I sought service
with a notary, and your honor can see that my work was
satisfactory."
He said all this in a quiet, modest manner, his head
bent slightly forward. Suddenly one of the three masked
men approached the table and Andrea felt piercing eyes
resting upon him. "What is your name?" asked the In-
quisitor, in a voice weakened by age.
" Andrea Delfin. Here are my papers."
" Remember that it is dangerous to deceive the High
Tribunal. What if I should tell you that your name is
Candiano?"
A short pause followed these words a silence so com-
plete that the gentle ticking of the death worm in the walls
could be heard. Four pairs of eyes were turned toward the
stranger.
" Candiano? " he answered slowly in a firm voice. " Why
should my name be Candiano? I wish that it might be,
for as far as I know, the Candiano family are rich and
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Paul Heyse
noble, and no one who bears this name need earn his bread
with his pen."
"You have the face of a Candiano; your manner and
bearing show a higher rank than these papers would give
you."
" I cannot help the look on my face, noble gentlemen,"
answered Andrea calmly. " And as for my manners, I
have endeavored to learn what I could from my various
masters."
The other two Inquisitors had come nearer also, and one
of them, whose red beard shone out under his mask, said
in a low tone : " There is a resemblance, I confess, it is
this, probably, that deceives you. But you know yourself
that that branch of the family which was settled in Murano
has died out entirely. The father was buried in Rome,
the sons did not long survive him."
" That may be," answered the first. " But look at him,
and say yourself if you would not think that it was old
Luigi Candiano risen from his grave and grown younger.
I knew him well enough." He took the papers from the
table and looked through them carefully. " You may be
right," he said finally. "The age does not agree. This
man is too old for one of Luigi's sons. If he is born out
of wedlock then we need have no fear of him!" He
threw the papers down again and retired with the others
to the window. The steady glance of Andrea's eyes did
not reveal the terrible weight that was lifted from his soul
at this moment.
The secretary began again to question him, and dis-
covered that he knew the French language and something
of German. After a few moments' consultation with the
three at the window, the secretary returned to the table
and said : " You will be given the pass of an Austrian
citizen born in Trieste. With this you are to go to the
house of the Austrian ambassador, and ask for his pro-
tection, saying that the Republic threatens to exile you.
This visit is to give you the opportunity of making the
acquaintance of the secretary of the embassy. Your task
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German Mystery Stories
is to find out if any personal and secret relations exist
between the Viennese court and the nobility of Venice.
You are to make no change in your manner of life. We
will pay you twelve ducats for the first months ; if you prove
yourself worthy, the sum will be doubled."
Andrea bowed as a sign that the arrangement was satis-
factory. " Here is your German pass," said the secretary.
" Your house stands next the palace of the Countess
Amidei. It should be easy for you to make the acquaint-
ance of her serving maid. We will pay you whatever ex-
penses you may incur in doing this. Report to us whatever
you may hear about the relations of the countess with
Venetian noblemen. And one thing more," here the sec-
retary opened a little box which stood upon the table.
" Step nearer and look at the dagger in this box. There
are large armor factories in Brescia. Do you remember
ever having seen any work of this character ? "
Controlling himself by a tremendous effort, Andrea
looked into the little box, looked at the weapon which he
knew only too well. It was a double-edged knife with a
steel handle in the form of a cross. On the blade, still
stained with blood, were carved the words : " Death to all
Inquisitors ! "
After a long pause he pushed back the box with a hand
which did not tremble. " I do not remember to have seen
this dagger, or one like it, in any shop in Brescia," he said.
The secretary closed the box and dismissed him with
a gesture. Andrea walked out slowly past the sentries,
through the echoing corridor, and not until he reached the
stairs did he permit himself to sink down upon a seat. His
knees trembled, cold drops shone on his forehead, his
tongue clove to his palate.
Out on the open street again he threw back his head
defiantly, and regained his usual calm, quiet demeanor.
With an apparently careless eye he read a placard announc-
ing the high reward set upon the capture of the murderer.
Then he called a gondola and rowed to the palace of the
Austrian ambassador. Just as he was about to leave his
Paul Heyse
boat, a tall young man standing before the door turned
suddenly and exclaimed in delight. " Ser Delfin! how de-
lightful that we should meet here! Do you not know me?
Have you forgotten our evenings on the Garda Lake ? "
" Is it you, Baron Rosenberg? " answered Andrea, taking
the other's hand heartily. " Are you in Venice for some
time?"
" Heaven alone knows for how long," said the other.
" For you must know, dear friend, that I am now secretary
to his excellency, the Austrian ambassador. I fear you may
not wish to be recognized as an old acquaintance of mine? "
" I am not afraid," replied Andrea. " If I am not dis-
turbing you, I would like a few moments' talk with you."
" Oh, then, you were coming to see me without knowing
me? I am all the more glad to do whatever I can for you."
Andrea blushed and felt for the first time the humiliation
of his disguise. The Austrian pass in his pocket seemed
to weigh like lead; but the control that hard years had won
for him did not desert him.
" I wish merely to ask for some information about a
German firm," he said. " For I am here in Venice in the
very modest position of scribe to a notary. But as I was
nothing more in Brescia, and you still did not think me
unworthy of your acquaintance and that of your mother,
I am very glad to meet you again. You must first of all
tell me of that noble lady, whose great kindness to me still
lives fresh in my memory."
The young man led his guest up to a comfortable apart-
ment, where Andrea's eyes fell first upon a large portrait
hanging over the desk. He recognized the brilliant eyes
and the shining hair of Countess Leonora.
His host pulled two armchairs to a window through
which one looked out over a broad canal to the rear wall
of an old church. " Sit down and make yourself quite at
home," he said. " Can I offer you some wine or a sherbet ?
But you are not listening to me you are looking at that
picture. Do you know who it is but who in Venice would
not know it? Do not talk to me of this woman. I know
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German Mystery Stories
all they say of her and I believe it all, and yet I assure you
in all seriousness, that even you yourself, if you could stand
before her, would forget everything except joy that you are
there."
" Is this picture your property ? " asked Andrea after a
pause.
" No. It belonged to a more fortunate man than I a
handsome young Venetian who had the good luck to be
her favorite. The poor fellow was careless enough to be-
come my friend, and this crime has been punished by ban-
ishment. And it is now my punishment to have this picture
before me, and to see the eyes of the original clouded with
tears for his sake."
He stood before the picture as he spoke, looking at it
with sad eyes. Andrea looked at him, in his turn, with the
deepest sympathy. The young man could not be called
particularly handsome, but a mingling of youthful slen-
derness and manly gravity made him very attractive. Nobil-
ity and energy were shown in the grace of his tall figure.
His guest exclaimed involuntarily : " And you you too
can love this woman, so unworthy of you ? "
" Love ? " answered the young German in a gloomy tone.
" Who says that I love her ? that I love her as I have
loved "at home? Say rather that it is an obsession, that I
wear her fetters with groaning and with gnashing of teeth ;
that I am ashamed of my weakness, and yet revel in it. I
have never known before what joy it is to feel one's shoul-
ders borne down by a self-chosen yoke, and to feel all one's
pride crushed to the dust for a smile from such eyes. But
I am tiring you. Let us talk of something else. How has
the world gone with you since you left Brescia ? "
" Talk to me rather of your mother," said Andrea.
" What a woman she is ! The very stranger even feels the
desire to love and respect her as a mother."
" Ah ! Yes ! yes ! " exclaimed the other. " Let us talk
of her it may free me from this evil spell that has fallen
upon me. Would you believe that I could be so ungrateful
as ever to forget what a mother she has been to me ? Would
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Paul Heyse
you believe that I have already received three letters from
her, in which she implores me to leave Venice and return
to her in Vienna ? She feels that there is some evil waiting
for me here alas ! she does not know how great the evil
is that has already crossed my path she does not know
that nothing holds me here but a woman whose name I
would not dare mention in her pure presence. But, no it
is not quite as bad as that. It would not be possible for
me to leave my post just now. My chief, the count, be-
lieves that I am indispensable to him, and there is much
to do at this moment. It may not be unknown to you that
we have fallen into disfavor here. They have even gone
so far as to blame us for Venier's murder, a deed which
we all abhor ! For, don't you think yourself," he continued
eagerly "don't you think yourself that it will be quite im-
possible to gain the evident object, the fall of the Tribunal,
through a path of crime like this ? The question of morals
quite apart, is it at all possible that any conspiracy could
remain sufficiently long undiscovered to make it at all of
use?"
" Quite impossible," answered Andrea carelessly. " What
three Venetians know, the Council of Ten knows. It is
only strange that they were served so badly this time."
" And suppose that it should be possible to the conspir-
ators to heap murder upon murder, until no one can be
found who will take upon himself the dangerous honor of
an inquisitor's office what would be won by that? The
pillars of a healthy State are undermined in Venice, and
only the stern hand of tyranny can hold the rotten structure
together for a short time longer. But you see how careless
I am for a diplomat who would win his spurs in Venice!
Here I know you only slightly, and I am already talking
so freely to you ! But I think I know something of char-
acter, and I do not believe that a mind like yours could
ever bend to the service of the Signoria."
Andrea held out his hand to his friend. But in the same
moment he turned and saw, several steps behind them, his
colleague Samuele standing in the middle of the room. The
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German Mystery Stories
Jew had opened the door softly and walked quiet/y across
the heavy carpet. He bowed deeply to Rosenberg, pre-
tending not to notice Andrea. " Your honor will pardon
me for entering unannounced, there was no lackey in the
anteroom. I bring the jewels you asked for."
He pulled several boxes from his pocket and laid them
carefully on the table with all the manner of the Jewish
merchant, a manner he was careful to suppress in his other
affairs. While the young nobleman examined the jewels,
Samuele threw a meaning look to Andrea, who had turned
from him and was looking out of the window. He knew
what the Jew's appearance in this hour meant. The spy
was set to watch the spy, the old hand was to encourage
the novice in his trial venture.
When Rosenberg had chosen a chain with a ruby clasp,
paid for it without bargaining, and dismissed the Jew with
a gesture, he turned to Andrea again. " Do you know any-
thing about that Jew ? " asked the latter.
" Oh, yes, I know him. He is a spy set to watch us in
our house by the Council of Ten. I am sorry for your sake
that he should have come in just then. He saw me take
your hand; I wager that in less than an hour your name
will be in the black book."
Andrea smiled bitterly. " I am not afraid, my friend. I
am a peaceful man and my conscience is clear."
Four days later, on a Saturday evening, Andrea asked
his landlady for the key of the house. She praised his de-
cision to make an exception from his usual rule and spend
one evening out of doors. It would be worth while on this
particular evening; the funeral ceremonies for the noble
Lord Venier, in the Cathedral San Rocco, would be well
worth seeing. Andrea replied that he would rather avoid
the crowd, and that he preferred to take a gondola and row
out toward the Lido.
He left the house and walked down the street in the
opposite direction from that leading to San Rocco. It was
already eight o'clock; a fine rain thickened the air, but
did not prevent crowds of people from streaming in all
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directions toward the great church across the canal where
the funeral mass for the murdered Inquisitor was to be
sung. Andrea paused in a dark side street, took a mask
from his pocket and fastened it over his face. Then he
walked quickly to the nearest canal, and sprang into a gon-
dola, giving the order : " To San Rocco."
The stately old church was bright as day with the light of
innumerable candles, and alive with the swaying movement
of a tremendous crowd. A great silver cross stood at the
head of the catafalque, and the coverings of black velvet
bore the crest of the Venier family. The chairs arranged
in a semicircle up through the entire depth of the choir
were draped in black, and were filled by representatives of
the entire Venetian nobility. Not one of them dared to be
missing on this occasion, for not one of them wished to
allow a doubt of the sincerity of his grief. On another
row of seats sat the foreign ambassadors. Their number
also was complete when the solemn sound of the trumpets
from the height of the dome announced the beginning of
the ceremonies.
Two men walked hastily, absorbed in eager conversation,
through a side street which led under gloomy arcades to
the square of San Rocco. They did not notice that a third
man was following them, keeping closely to the dark shad-
ows of the houses, his face and figure hidden by mask and
cloak. The two who walked on ahead did not wear the
mask. One of them was a gray-bearded gentleman of noble
dignity of bearing ; his companion, much younger, listened
with respectful attention to what the elder man was saying.
And now they came past the spot where a bright lamp in
a house window threw a sharp light out over the street.
Their follower in his mask had come close to them and
looked at them eagerly as the light fell on their faces. He
could plainly see that the younger man was the Secretary
of the Inquisition ; and the face and voice of the older man
had been seen and heard in the Chamber of the Secret Tri-
bunal. It was the voice which had told Andrea Delfin that
he was a Candiano.
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German Mystery Stories
" Go back at once," the older man was saying, " and
finish this affair immediately. You may order the first hear-
ing of the prisoners, for it is not likely that I will be able
to return until midnight. If there is any immediate report
to make, you may find me at the house of my brother-in-
law when the ceremony is over."
They parted, and the elder man walked more quickly
through the silent arcades toward the square. The music
in the church was silent now, and thousands of eyes turned
toward the pulpit where a white-haired feeble priest, the
papal nuncio, was slowly mounting the steps supported
by two younger clergymen. There was not a sound to
be heard as the old man's weak voice arose in a solemn
prayer.
The last echo of the amen had scarce rolled down from
the domed roof when a murmur arose among the crowd at
the portal, running rapidly through the length of the church
until the entire assemblage was swaying uneasily as the
surface of an ocean. All eyes were turned toward the great
doors, from which the nameless terror had come. Torches
waved across the dark square, and after a moment's breath-
less pause in the first birth of the excitement a hundred-
voiced cry was heard : " Murder ! Murder ! "
A panic which threatened to tear apart the walls of the
old church followed this sound. Nobles and plebeians,
priests and choir boys, the guardians of the catafalque,
thousands of men and women all rushed blindly to the
exit. The old man in the pulpit stood alone in quiet dig-
nity, looking down upon the struggling crowd at his feet,
and left his place only when the empty church showed him
that his duty was over.
Outside on the open square the terrified crowd pushed
and struggled toward one spot where gathered torches
flared in wind and rain. A troop of the guards, called up
in haste, stood about a motionless body lying at the en-
trance to a dark side street. By the light of the torches
the blood was seen streaming from a wound in the side,
and in the wound itself was a dagger with a steel cross for
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Paul Heyse
a handle, a dagger which bore the words : " Death to all
Inquisitors."
The effect on Venice of this terrible discovery resembled
the effect of the second and fatal shock of an earthquake.
The first shock had caused surprise and terror a terror
which the very suddenness rendered fleeting, as the realiza-
tion of what had happened could not penetrate the con-
sciousness so quickly. But this second shock brought full
comprehension. It was not possible to conceal the fact
that the wounded man was one of the Three. This time the
dagger had been turned aside by a heavy undergarment,
and the victim was not dead. But the injury was very
serious, possibly fatal, and caused a pause in the business
of the Secret Tribunal, as the consent of all three members
was necessary for every decree. Worse even than this
laming of the power of government was the apparent pene-
trating of the secrecy which surrounded all its acts and
which surrounded the very personality of its possessors.
The choice and election of the third Inquisitor had been car-
ried out in the Council of Ten with the utmost secrecy pro-
tected by the most solemn oaths, and yet a few days later
a blow had struck down the newly elected Inquisitor. The
thought lay near that treason must dwell in the very inner-
most circles of the government itself. The Secretary of
the Inquisition, the last person to see the wounded man
before the attack, was arrested, submitted to the most se-
vere examinations, and threatened with a terrible death.
But all in vain.
Venice was practically in a state of siege after this second
attack. Half the city was in the service of the government
to watch the other half. The streets were patrolled day
and night ; the wearing of masks, or the carrying of weap-
ons of any sort, was forbidden under pain of severe punish-
ment; and every gondola that landed passengers at the
quays was inspected. No one was allowed to leave Venice,
and a ship at the entrance to the harbor held up even the
messengers of the government. Far beyond the limits of
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German Mystery Stories
the city the news of these conditions spread like a panic.
Anyone planning a journey to Venice postponed it indefi-
nitely. Merchants having business connection with Ve-
netian houses withdrew their orders until the Reign of
Terror should have passed over. Inside the town, the
nobles left their houses only under pressure of dire neces-
sity, and refused to receive visitors, as it was impossible to
know that one's nearest friends might not be concerned in
the conspiracy. Even the common people, usually uncon-
cerned in the quarrelings of the higher powers, felt the in-
creasing gloom of the nameless terror that had seized upon
the entire town.
Among the few people who did not allow the panic to
influence their thoughts or actions was Andrea Delfin. The
morning following the deed he had been ordered to the
palace and put through an examination as to what he might
have seen and heard during the hour of the attack. He
had said that he had been out on the Lido, endeavoring to
discover the opinions of the fishermen. His friend Samuele
had at once reported his noticeable friendliness with Baron
Rosenberg. Andrea explained this by his former acquaint-
ance with the young secretary, which could only be of use
to the Tribunal.
He spent some part of every day with his German friend,
as the two men had begun to find more and more real pleas-
ure in each other's society. The baron told Andrea laugh-
ingly that he had been warned against him as a secret spy
of the Tribunal. But Andrea's calm answer gave the other
an assurance which was scarcely needed, as his confidence
in his Italian friend was complete.
One day, as Andrea was leaning over the edge of a rail-
ing looking down at the quiet waters of the canal, some one
called his name from a gondola, and he saw Baron Rosen-
berg waving eagerly to him from the cabin. " Have you
an hour free ? " cried the young man. " Then come with
me. I am in a hurry, but want to speak to you." When
Andrea had entered the boat the baron continued, pressing
his friend's hand warmly, " I am very glad indeed to have
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Paul Heyse
met you. I would have been very sorry to have had to
depart without bidding you good-by, but I feared for your
sake to visit you or even to send for you."
" You are going away ? " asked Andrea, startled.
" I must. My dear mother is worrying about me. I
have a piteous letter from her begging me to return. Her
physician tells me that I must be with her or she will fall
seriously ill. Here is the letter."
When Andrea had read it he returned it to the other,
saying : " It is indeed touching, and yet I could almost
wish that you would not go just now. Not alone because
I shall be so utterly solitary when you are gone but it is
not safe now for anyone to leave Venice. For you to do
so would be to incur suspicion of flight. Have you had
any difficulty in obtaining permission to leave ? "
" Not the slightest. But how could they prevent me ?
I am a member of the embassy."
" Then you have a double reason for caution. Many a
door stands invitingly open here in Venice which leads to
an abyss beyond. If you will follow my advice, you will
not show yourself so openly in the streets the last hours
before your departure. You cannot tell what may be done
to prevent your going."
" But what can I do ? " asked the young man. " You
know it is forbidden to wear masks."
" Then stay at home, and let the representatives of the
Republic wait in vain for your farewell visit. When do you
leave?"
" To-morrow morning at five. I expect to be away about
a month. Now that I have fully decided to go, I am almost
glad of this heroic treatment, although it hurts me cruelly.
When I am far away from the fatal charm of the en-
chantress, I may be able to throw off the spell of her power
forever. And yet, would you believe me, dear friend, I
tremble at thought of parting."
" The best cure for that would be to part from her at
once."
" You mean not to see her again ? You ask too much/'
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German Mystery Stories
Andrea caught the other's hand. " My dear friend," he
said with more tenderness than he had ever shown before,
" I have no right to ask any sacrifice of you. But the deep
affection that has drawn me to you from the very first gives
me the courage to make a request of you. I beg of you,
by the memory of your noble mother, do not go to the
countess's house. I have a premonition, strong enough to
be almost a certainty, that some terrible evil will befall you
if you see this woman during the last hours before your
departure. Promise me, I beg of you, promise me ! "
Rosenberg shook his head gravely. " Do not ask a
promise of me ; be content that it is my will to follow your
advice. But the demon may be stronger than I am my-
self."
They sat silent for some time while the gondola moved
gently through the quiet waters. Near the Rialto, Andrea
caused the boat to halt, as he would be obliged to leave his
friend here. He started and trembled slightly at the other's
question whether he would still be in Venice a month later.
He held his friend's hand for some time, and stood looking
at the boat long after it had moved on.
Andrea Delfin had long since cut himself loose from all
ties that could bind him to another personality ; the terrible
task that he had set for himself had seemed to kill all hu-
man instincts within him. But he himself was astonished
at the pain the parting from this young man awoke in his
heart. He found himself wishing that he might not see him
again until his work was done. He decided to write to the
mother and warn her not to allow her son to return to
Venice. The thought seemed to cause him great relief, and
he hurried home to carry out his intention at once. But
alone in his gloomy room he could not control the unease
and distress that kept him pacing up and down the narrow
space. He knew that the softening of his heart did not
come from any twinge of conscience or from any fear of
the discovery of his terrible secret. That very morning he
had been called before the Secretary of the Tribunal and
had seen how complete was the panic of the government.
74
Paul Heyse
The wounded Inquisitor still lay between life and death.
One blow more and the building with its undermined
foundations must fall forever. Andrea felt no doubt as to
his mission, no doubt as to the protection of Providence
for his work. It was a something else, a vague premo-
nition he could not understand, which made him uneasy
now and would not allow him to regain his usual iron
composure.
The tenor of his thoughts was interrupted as twilight fell
by a sound at Smeraldina's window opposite. He had
neglected the girl lately, and now hastened to make up for
this with particular friendliness, as he found the connection
too useful to lose. Smeraldina was soon reconciled, and
told him that her countess was expecting a number of gen-
tlemen to play cards that evening.
" Is the German baron coming, the one you told me of? "
asked Andrea.
" He ? Why, of course not. He is so jealous that he
will never enter the house if he knows anyone else is here.
Besides, he is going away and we are not sorry."
Andrea breathed a sigh of relief. At ten o'clock, as ar-
ranged, he stood before the portal of the palace waiting for
the girl to let him in. The air was thick, the night cloudy,
and the few passers through the little square wrapped them-
selves in their cloaks. As Andrea stood and waited, he
remembered the evening that another Candiano had crossed
this threshold to meet his death. He shivered, and the
hand he held out to the girl a moment later was icy cold.
Once in her room he would not consent to sit down at the
richly spread table she had prepared, but persuaded her to
allow him to look through the crack in the wall once more,
pretending great curiosity to see what a card party among
rich people might be like. He spoke jokingly, and pro-
tested that he would return to her very soon.
When he had taken his uncomfortable position on the
little platform and looked down at the neighboring room,
he would scarcely have recognized it again. Tall mirrors
reflected the light of many candles, and their golden frames
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German Mystery Stories
shot out flashes that awoke answering gleams from the
painted walls. Jewels sparkled on the white throat of the
fair Leonora, but her eyes were tired and rested with in-
difference on the cards and on the faces of the young men
about her. The money passed rapidly from hand to hand
at the card table. One young gallant, weary of the game,
sat on a divan singing sentimental barcaroles to the accom-
paniment of the lute, while servants passed noiselessly over
the thick carpet carrying trays of refreshments. The
watcher on the platform was about to retire, seeing nothing
to interest him, when one of the great doors was suddenly
opened and a stately figure entered the card room, greeted
by a sudden respectful silence. It was a man past middle
age, carrying his white head still proudly erect on stalwart
shoulders. He threw a quick glance over the young men
and bowed to the countess, as he prayed her not to allow
him to disturb the company.
" You are asking too much, Ser Malapiero," answered
the countess. " These young men have too much respect
for the many services you have rendered the Republic
that they should continue their sinful pastime in your
presence."
" You mistake, fair Leonora," said the newcomer. " I
have long since retired from all political activity, and find
myself still young enough at heart to wish to enjoy a merry
hour over cards and wine in the presence of beauty. But
I do not come to-night to lay claim to your hospitality. I
stepped in for a moment to bring you news of your brother,
news which I have received from Genoa to-night. It is
good news, and will not spoil your mood, therefore I feel
free to ask for a few moments of your time. May we step
in here ? " He pointed to the door of the great hall.
Andrea started up, but realized that it would be impos-
sible for him to leave his place without being seen. With
quick decision he laid himself flat on the floor of the plat-
form in a position which enabled him to hide behind the
low railing. He heard the opening of the door, the rustle
of the countess's gown and the step of the old man who
Paul Heyse
followed her, asserting that he did not need a light for the
few words he had to say. The door closed behind them,
and they stood just below the platform.
" Why do you come here ? " asked the countess hastily.
" Do you bring me the news that Gritti will return ? "
" You have not fulfilled the conditions, fair Leonora.
You have not revealed to us any of the secrets from Vi-
enna."
" Is it my fault ? I did everything a woman could do, and
this stubborn German is absolutely my captive. But not
a word of business would pass his lips and he is going
away to-day, as you know. I am ill of annoyance over the
whole matter."
" It would be more agreeable to us if it were he who
were ill."
" What do you mean? "
" He is going away, and it is not possible for us to stop
him. But we are quite certain that he has important mes-
sages to carry to Vienna, and he must be prevented from
reaching there. It is you who can hold him."
"And how?"
" Send him a messenger to come to you at once. He
will surely come. And when he does, it must be your care
that he shall fall ill."
She interrupted hastily. " I have vowed never to do that
sort of thing again."
" You will receive absolution. And we do not wish that
he shall die ; in fact, that would make it very disagreeable
for us."
" Do what you will," she said, " but leave me out of it."
"Is this your last word, countess?"
" It is."
" Well, then, it will have to be arranged that the traveler
shall meet with an accident on his journey."
"And Gritti?"
" We will speak of him another time. Permit me to lead
you back to your guests."
The door of the hall opened and closed behind them.
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German Mystery Stories
Andrea could now leave his post without danger, but the
words he had heard lamed him in mind and body. He
arose with difficulty and staggered down the steps, his hand
clutching at the dagger hidden in his coat. His lips were
bleeding where his teeth had pressed them. But he had
sufficient control to rejoin Smeraldina, to chat with her for
a few moments, leave her the contents of his purse, and
then ask her to lay the bridge to his window again. As
he crossed the plank with a steady foot, a decision stood
firm within his soul. It was time for action again; action
that had for incentive not alone the great cause to which
he had devoted himself. He must strike, and strike well,
to save a friend from treachery, to send a son safe home to
a waiting mother.
He walked softly through the corridor of his own house
and out into the quiet street until he reached the little
square in front of Leonora's palace. He had seen no wait-
ing gondola anywhere, and concluded from this that the
man he sought intended to go home on foot. The black
shadow of a column near the door gave him sufficient
shelter.
He stood here, his dagger firm in his hand, watching and
waiting. In his heart and brain the vague voices that had
troubled him before were alive again. Cold drops stood
out on his forehead with a sigh of relief he thought to
himself that this might be the last time. It occurred to
him that Malapiero would probably be accompanied by
lackeys, and he was astonished at the feeling of relief it
gave him to think that it would be useless to wait this
time. But just as he was about to move from his shadow,
the door of the palace opposite opened and a single stately
figure wrapped in a cloak stepped out into the black night.
White hair fell from under the hat rim, a quick, firm step
beat the stone pavement as the belated wanderer kept close
to the shadow of the houses. Now he had approached the
blackness where stood the avenger ; he had passed him ten
or twenty steps ; suddenly he heard a footfall behind him ;
he turned, threw back his coat to free his sword, but in the
78
Paul Heyse
same moment he staggered and fell the steel had struck
to his heart.
" Mother ! my poor mother ! " groaned the murdered
man. Then his head sank back on the pavement, and his
eyes closed forever.
A deep silence followed the words. The dead man lay
stretched across the street with arms outthrown. His hat
had fallen back from his forehead, and under the disguise
of the white wig curly brown hair appeared, the youthful
face seemed sleeping in the pale night light. A step or two
distant, the murderer stood leaning against the wall of
the nearest house, his eyes staring wildly at the face op-
posite him; his tortured brain trying to pierce the spell of
ghostly enchantment that seemed to hold it enthralled.
Must he not see in this face the features of the old man he
had watched a few moments before in Leonora's hall ? Was
it not just because of the man who lay here that he had
struck the blow ? And what was it that the man there had
said as he fell? The blood rushed back from his head to
his heart. His eyes, suddenly clearing, could plainly see
the dagger in the dead man's breast. He read aloud the
words on the handle, words that his own hand had graven
in the steel : " Death to all Inquisitors ! " The thoughts
whirled through his brain in hideous haste. He suddenly
understood it was no miracle, this hideous thing that had
happened. It was all quite natural. The boy had remained
away from his enchantress throughout the day, but when
evening came he could no longer resist the spell of the
demon and had come to her door. At the portal they had
told him that the countess was not alone, and he had turned
to leave the house again. And then it was that his only
friend in all the city had sprung upon him to murder him
to murder him because of the disguise which this very
friend had advised!
The door of the palace opened again, and a tall figure
wrapped in a cloak came out into the street. The light
from the vestibule fell on the white hair of Ser Malapiero
returning to his home. Andrea looked up, the horrible
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German Mystery Stories
irony of his position cutting deep into his soul. There
walked the man from whom he had thought to free the
city, to free the helpless, oppressed citizens, and to free his
own friend. This man walked toward him alone, unguarded
save in the mask of a secret which his enemy had pene-
trated there was nothing to turn aside the dagger that
was aimed for his heart but this dagger was stained with
innocent blood, the Judge and Avenger equally sinful with
those whom he had condemned. There was no difference
between them, except that the one had been impelled by
evil chance, the others by evil intention.
All this whirled through Andrea's brain. He started up,
drew the dagger from the wound and fled through the
shadow before the aged Triumvir had seen him. As he
ran, his heart was torn by the agony of the thought that
Malapiero would find the dead man, and would breathe a
thanks to the unknown murderer who had relieved him of
a dangerous and difficult task.
It was long past midnight when a man sprang out of a
gondola and knocked at the door of a lonely convent that
stood on a little point of land far out beyond the city. In
the convent dwelt a few Capuchin monks who lived on the
charity of the surrounding fishermen, and in return gave
them spiritual aid and comfort. The solitary man, Andrea
Delfin, knocked more loudly at the door. A moment later
a voice from within asked who it was.
" A dying man," he answered. " Call brother Pietro
Maria if he is in the convent." The doorkeeper retired,
and Andrea sat down on the stone bench beside the house,
took a notebook from his pocket and began to write hastily.
This was what he wrote :
" To Angela Querine: It is a doomed man who writes
to you now, a doomed man to whom your noble deeds gave
courage to dare to resist the tyranny which had crushed
out his entire family. Do you remember young Candiano,
who many years before was introduced to you in the Pa-
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Paul Heyse
lazzo Morosini? I was then a young man living the cus-
tomary life of pleasure of my kind, thinking neither of the
past nor the future. It was you who first reminded me of
the great deeds my forefathers had done in service of the
State; it was you who first led me to study the history of
my poor country and to understand how terribly this Re-
public of Venice had fallen, through a tyrant's hand, from
her once high estate. Inspired by you, I won my brother
Orso from his life of idle pleasure, and it was thus we drew
down upon ourselves the vengeance of those who held the
power.
" I will not trouble you with a recital of the means that
were taken to crush out our family, as well as many others
of the independent landed nobility. Enough to say that
my brother died by poison, my sister perished in the flames
that destroyed our home, and I was supposed to have
shared her fate. But I had escaped, how I do not know,
and by sheerest accident I had found papers belonging to
one of my servants. This afforded me a possibility of al-
lowing the belief in my death to spread abroad while I
could sink my personality in that of another. My hair had
grown white in a single night, my features aged as if by
many years.
" When I recovered from the deep apathy into which the
loss of all those dear to me had sunk me, I had but one
thought, that of vengeance. Then came I was living
quietly in Brescia under the name of my servant then
came the news of your noble deed and its shameful defeat.
I gathered my broken energy together, waited for a while
to strengthen my hatred and my purpose, and then set forth
to carry out in secret, by my own hand alone, the work
which you could not perform by an open appeal to justice.
I felt assured that there was no hatred in my soul for any
one person, no desire for revenge for personal suffering,
nothing but the sacred will to raise my hand in the avenging
of the sorrows of my country.
" But it is for God alone to mete out vengeance I would
have played the judge and have become a murderer. I
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German Mystery Stories
took upon myself that which belonged alone to God, and
God has punished me with my own weapons, and has al-
lowed me to shed innocent blood. It is not yet time for a
task such as mine God has refused the sacrifice that I
would bring him.
" I go now to meet the face of the Highest Judge, that
he may pass judgment upon my sin and my suffering. I
have nothing more to expect of mankind. Of you I pray
only a passing pity for my error and my unhappiness.
" CANDIANO."
Long before the writer had finished, the door of the con-
vent had opened and a venerable monk stood behind him.
Andrea arose. " Pietro Maria," he said. " I thank you
that you have answered my call. Will you grant one more
request to an unhappy man, and take this letter safely to
the exile in Venice? Will you promise me?"
" I promise you."
" God will reward you. Farewell."
He turned away without taking the hand the monk held
out to him, entered his gondola and steered toward the
open sea. The old man, who had hastily read the lines on
the page before him, called after him in alarm and begged
him to return, but received no answer. Greatly moved and
excited, the venerable monk stood watching the last scion
of a noble family pass out over the waves, which began to
dance before the fresh morning breeze. When the gondola
was near the gray horizon the dark figure in it rose to its
feet, threw back a farewell look over land and sea, and
toward the dim outlines of the city just visible above the
mists of the lagoons. One moment it stood motionless,
then with a spring it disappeared beneath the waves.
The monk who watched folded his hands and prayed si-
lently. Then he loosened his boat from its chain and rowed
out into the sea where the empty gondola danced on the
crest of the waves. There was no trace of the man who had
taken it out to this lonely spot.
82
Wilhelm Hauff
The Singer
I
"JT is a strange occurrence, truly," said Councilor Bol-
nau to a friend whom he met on Broad Street in B.
" You must confess that this a queer age we live in."
" You mean the affair in the North ? " answered his
friend. " Have you important news, councilor? Has your
friend, the foreign minister, told you some important secret
of state?"
" Oh, don't bother me with politics or state secrets ; let
them go as they may. I mean now the affair of Made-
moiselle Bianetti."
" The little singer? Has she been engaged again? They
say the conductor of the orchestra has quarreled with
her "
"But for heaven's sake!" cried the councilor in aston-
ishment, " where have you been hiding yourself that you
do not know what all the city knows? Have you not heard
what has happened to our little Bianetti ? "
" Not a word, on my honor. What is it, then ? "
" Nothing further than that she was stabbed to death
last night."
The councilor was known as a great joker. When he
made his usual morning promenade up and down Broad
Street, it was his habit to stop his friends and tell them some
wonderful story. This particular friend, therefore, was not
much shocked at such terrible news. Instead, he answered
calmly : " Is that all you know to-day, Bolnau ? Your
imagination must have given out if you exaggerate to this
extent. When you stop me another time, have something
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German Mystery Stories
more sensible to tell me. Otherwise, I shall turn down
another street if I see you in the distance."
" He won't believe me ! " cried the councilor. " He won't
believe me ! If I had told you that the Emperor of Morocco
had been stabbed, you would have received the news with
gratitude and would have carried it further, because such
news from Morocco is nothing unusual. But if they kill a
singer here in B., nobody will believe it until they see the
funeral. But, my dear friend, it is true this time, as true
as that I am an honest man."
" Man ! Think of what you are saying ! " cried the friend
in horror. " Dead, you say? Mademoiselle Bianetti dead? "
" She was not dead up to an hour ago, but I heard that
she was in a very bad way."
"But tell me more, for mercy's sake! Are we in Italy,
then, that people can be stabbed to death here in our city?
Where is our police ? how could it have happened ? "
" Don't scream so, good friend," replied Bolnau sooth-
ingly, " people are looking at us from the windows. How
it happened, you ask? That is just the point no one
knows how it happened. Yesterday evening the young
singer was at the masked ball, as charming and amiable as
ever, and at twelve o'clock last night Court Physician
Lange was awakened from a sound sleep and told that
Signora Bianetti was dying of a knife wound. The whole
city is talking of it rank nonsense, of course. There are
several circumstances which make it difficult to find out
the truth. For instance, she will allow nobody to enter her
house except the doctor and her own serving people. The
court knows the news already, and the order has been
given that the watch should not go through that street.
The entire battalion makes the detour over the market
place."
" You don't say so ! But does no one know how it could
have happened ? Have they no clew at all ? "
" It is difficult to pick out the truth among the many
rumors that are going about. Our little Bianetti is a very
decent girl, one must acknowledge. There is nothing that
Wilhelm Hauif
could be said against her reputation. But people are ma-
licious, particularly our dear ladies. If one mentions the
respectable life the poor girl leads, they will shrug their
shoulders and hint that they know of all sorts of things
from her past. Her past, dear Lord ! The child is scarce
seventeen years old, and has been here for a year and a
half. What chance is there for a past there?"
" Do not linger so long on the preface," interrupted his
friend, " but come to the main theme of your story. Do
they know who stabbed her?"
" Why, that is just the point, as I have already told you.
People insist that it is some rejected lover, or else a jealous
lover, who has tried to kill her. There are strange circum-
stances surrounding the case. They say that at the ball
yesterday evening she was seen talking for some time with
a masked man whom no one knew. She left the hall shortly
after that, and there are those who claim to have seen
that the man drove away with her in her carriage. This
is all that anyone knows for a certainty. But I will soon
find out how much truth there is to it."
:< Yes, I know that you have your own channel for news.
iYou have probably secured some one among those sur-
rounding the signora who will keep you aware of every-
thing that happens. People call you the city chronicler."
" Too much honor," laughed the councilor, and appeared
flattered. " But this time I have no other spy than Dr.
Lange himself. You must have noticed that, quite con-
trary to my usual custom, I am not promenading up and
down the length of the street, but am confining myself to
this block."
" I have noticed it, but I thought you were endeavoring
to attract the eye of the fair Madame Baruch."
"Do not talk to me of the Baruchs! We broke off
with them three days ago. My wife says that Madame
Baruch plays for too high a stake. No, Dr. Lange comes
through this street every day at twelve o'clock on his way
to the Palace. I am standing here to catch him when he
comes around the corner."
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" Let me remain with you," said his friend ; " I want to
hear more about this affair."
" Oh, my dear friend, don't take the trouble to do that,"
replied Bolnau. " I know that you dine at twelve o'clock ;
do not allow your soup to grow cold. And, furthermore,
Lange might not talk so freely before you. Meet me this
afternoon in the cafe, and I will tell you everything. But
go now there he comes around the corner."
II
" I DO not consider the wound to be necessarily fatal,"
said Court Physician Lange, after the first greeting. " The
knife was not held very securely in the hand that dealt the
blow. She is conscious again, and, apart from the weak-
ness which has followed the great loss of blood, there is no
immediate danger."
The councilor put his arm through the doctor's, and an-
swered : " I am very glad to hear that. I'll walk with you
these few blocks to the Palace. But do you tell me some-
thing more about this affair. No one seems to know any-
thing definite about the manner in which it happened."
" I can assure you," said the other, " the whole affair is
shrouded in the deepest mystery. I had just fallen asleep
when my Johann awakened me with the news that I had
been sent for to come to some very sick person. I threw
on my clothes and ran to the next room, where I found
a pale and trembling girl who whispered to me that I was
to bring bandages with me. This began to attract my at-
tention. I entered the carriage hastily, told the maid to
sit on the box with Johann to show him the way, and we
drove to Lindenhof. I got down before a small house,
and asked the maid who the sick person was."
" I can imagine how astonished you were "
"When I heard that it was Signora Bianetti! I only
knew her on the stage had seen her there scarcely two or
three times. But the mysterious way in which I had been
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Wilhelm Hauff
called to her, the bandages I was told to bring, all this
aroused my curiosity greatly. We mounted a short stair
and went through a narrow, dark hall. The maid led the
way, left me there in the darkness a few moments, and then
returned sobbing and even paler than before.
" ' Come in, please, doctor/ she said. ' Alas ! I fear you
are come too late she will not live through it.' I entered
the room. It was, indeed, a terrible sight."
The physician was quiet a moment, his face darkening.
He seemed to be looking at some picture which depressed
him. " Well, and what did you see ? "*' cried his companion,
impatient at the interruption.
" I have seen many things in my life," continued the
doctor, after a pause " many things that have alarmed me,
many things that have aroused my pity ; but I have seldom
seen anything that so touched my heart as did the sight
that met my eyes there. In a dimly lighted room a pale
young woman lay stretched out upon the sofa. An old
servant knelt beside her, holding a cloth to her heart. I
came nearer; the head of the dying woman lay thrown
back, white and fixed as the head of a statue. Her long
black hair, her dark eyebrows and lashes formed a terrify-
ing contrast with the startling whiteness of her forehead,
her face, and her beautiful rounded throat. The full folds
of her white garments, which were doubtless part of her
masquerade costume, were stained with blood. There was
blood upon the floor and upon the sofa, blood that poured
out from her heart in a crimson stream. This was what I
saw in that first moment. Then I recognized that it was
the singer Bianetti."
" Oh, how very touching ! " said the councilor, much
moved, and wiping his eyes with a large silk handkerchief.
" She lay just like that a week ago when she sang ' Des-
demona.' The effect was so alarmingly real, one could
almost think that the Moor had really killed her. And
to think that such a thing should in very truth happen
to her! "
" Did I not forbid you to allow yourself to become ex-
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cited?" interrupted the physician; "do you want to bring
on another attack?"
" You are right," said the councilor, putting his hand-
kerchief back in his pocket, " you are right my constitu-
tion does not permit me any excitement. Continue to tell
me what you know, and I will count the window panes in
the War Office as we pass; that helps to calm me."
" If that doesn't help, you might take the second story
of the Palace also.
" The old servant removed the cloth, and to my aston-
ishment I saw a wound very near the heart, which had
evidently been made by a knife or a dagger. There was
no time to ask questions, however much I may have wished
to do so. I examined the wound, and bound it up. During
the operation the wounded girl had given no sign of life
except that she had started and quivered when I probed the
wound. I let her rest just as she lay, and watched her
slumbers carefully."
" But the two serving maids did you not question them
about the wound ? "
" You are my good friend, councilor; therefore I will
confess to you that when I had bound up the wound and
could do no more for the moment, I told the servants that
I would do nothing more for the lady until they gave me
some explanation as to what had happened."
- " And what did they say ? "
" That the singer came home shortly after eleven o'clock
in company with a tall man who wore a mask. I may have
shown some expression in my face at this news, for the
two women began to weep, and implore-d me not to think
ill of their young lady. They had been with her for some
time, they said, and they had never seen any man enter the
house after four o'clock in the afternoon. The young girl,
who probably had been reading romances, said that the
signora was an angel of purity."
" I would say that myself," said the councilor, busily
counting the window panes in the Palace, which they were
approaching. " I would say that myself. One can find
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Wilhelm Hauff
nothing to say against Signora Bianetti. She is a good,
pious child. Is it her fault that she is beautiful, and that
she must support herself by her singing ? "
" You can believe me," replied Lange, " a physician can
see deeply in these matters. One look at the pure features
of the unhappy girl convinced me of her innocence far
more than did the vows of her handmaiden. The latter,
probably from curiosity as to this strange midnight visit,
had remained near the door. She heard excited words pass
between her mistress and the stranger, who had a deep,
hollow voice. They spoke in French. The signora finally
began to weep bitterly, and the man cursed horribly. Sud-
denly she heard a sharp scream in her mistress's voice.
Alarmed at this, she opened the door, and the man in the
mask rushed hastily past her and through the hall to the
stairs. The maid followed him for a few steps, and heard
a great noise at the bottom of the staircase a noise as if
he had fallen. She heard him groaning and moaning, but
she was too terrified to go a step farther in that direction.
She ran back into the room there lay the lady covered
with blood, her eyes closed as if she were dead. The girl
was so alarmed that she did not know what to do at first.
She awoke the old woman, told her to do what she could
for their mistress, while she herself ran to fetch me "
" And Signora Bianetti herself has said nothing ? Did
you not question her ? "
" I went to the police station at once and awoke the com-
missioner. He ordered a search of all the taverns and of
all dark corners of the city where criminals are wont to
hide. No one had passed the gates in that last hour, and
orders went out that anyone who passed after that should
be examined. The owners of the little house, who lived in
the upper story, did not even know of the affair until the
police came to search their dwelling. It is quite incredible
that the murderer could have escaped, for he must have
injured himself severely in his fall down the stairs. The
lower steps were stained with blood. It is likely that he
wounded himself with his own dagger. It is still more
German Mystery Stories
impossible to understand how he could have escaped, as
the house door was closed. Signora Bianetti became con-
scious at ten o'clock this morning, and when examined
by the chief of police, declared that she had no idea who
the man in the mask could be. All physicians and surgeons
are compelled, as you perhaps know, to report any such
wounds at once to the authorities, to aid in the capture of
the murderer. This is the affair as it stands now. But I
am convinced that there is some deep secret here which the
singer will not reveal. Signora Bianetti is not the sort of
woman who would allow a strange man to accompany her
home at that hour. Her handmaiden, who was present
at the examination, seems to suspect something of the kind.
For, when she saw that the signora did not intend to say
anything, she herself said nothing about the quarrel she
had heard, and threw me a look which seemed to implore
me to be silent also. * This is a terrible affair,' she said as
she led me out to the stairway again, ' but nobody in the
world can make me betray what my signora does not wish
to have known/ Then she confessed something else to me,
something which may throw light on this sad affair."
" Well and may I not know what this something else
is ? " asked the councilor. " You see how curious I am.
Do not keep me in suspense, if you do not wish me to have
one of my attacks."
" Tell me, Bolnau, do you know whether there is anyone
else of your name in this city ? Or do you know of anyone
of that name anywhere else in the world ? And if you do,
where is he and who is he ? "
" I know of no one else in this town," answered Bolnau.
" When I moved here about eight years ago, I was pleased
to think that my name was not Meier, or Miiller, or any-
thing else that one finds by the dozen, causing great trouble
and inconvenience. In Cassel I was the only man in my
family. And I know of no other Bolnau in the whole world
except my son, that unhappy music-mad fool. He has
gone to America, I believe, and has disappeared altogether.
But why do you ask this question, doctor?"
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Wilhelm Hauff
" Well, it can't be meant for you, councilor, and your son
is in America ; but it is already a quarter past twelve o'clock !
Princess Sophie is ill, and here I stand chatting with you.
Farewell and au revoir ! "
" You don't move one step," cried Bolnau, holding the
doctor's arm, " until you tell me what it was the girl said."
" I will, but you must not reveal it to a soul. The sing-
er's last word, breathed just as she sank down unconscious,
was Bolnau"
III
No one had ever seen Councilor Bolnau in so serious
and gloomy a mood as he was after he had parted from
Dr. Lange in front of the Palace. He was usually so cheery
and bright when he made his morning promenade, and had
such an amiable smile for all the ladies he met, such merry
jokes for his men friends, that no one would have taken
him to be sixty years old. He had, indeed, all possible
cause for cheeriness. He had made a neat fortune for him-
self, had won the title of Councilor of Commerce, and then
had retired to enjoy life in his pretty home in B. in com-
pany with a wife who was as fond of all good things as he
was himself. He had one son, whom he had intended
to make his successor in business. But the boy had but one
interest, his love for music. All business, trading and com-
merce was hateful to him. The father had a hard, stubborn
head; the son also. The father was apt to be violent and
exaggerated in excitement; the son also.
When the son had just passed twenty, the father was
fifty years old, and ready to retire and to leave his business
to his son. But one fine summer evening the son disap-
peared, taking nothing with him but a few piano scores of
his favorite operas. From England he wrote his father a
friendly letter, saying that he was going to America. The
councilor wished him good luck for his journey, and then
moved his household to B.
The thought of this music-mad fool, as he dubbed his
German Mystery Stories
son, rendered many an hour gloomy for him. He had told
the boy never to show himself before him again ; hence, he
knew that he need never expect to see his son unless he
sent for him. It seemed to him at times that he had been
foolish to insist on putting the boy into trade. But years
passed, and a busy life of pleasure gave him little time for
sad thoughts. His days were spent in seeking for amuse-
ment, and if one wanted to behold him at his merriest, one
could do it easily between eleven and twelve o'clock in
Broad Street. There one could see a tall, thin man in
modishly cut garments with a lorgnette and a riding whip,
whose quick movements contrasted amusingly with his gray
hairs. He bowed incessantly to the right and to the left,
stopping every two paces to talk to some one and to laugh
merrily. If one were a stranger and saw such a man at
the hour named, o*ne could be certain that it was Councilor
Bolnau.
But to-day all was different. If the news of the sad ac-
cident to the singer had excited him, the doctor's last
words threw him into a fright that almost lamed him.
" Her last word before she became unconscious was Bolnaul
She had spoken his honest name under such suspicious cir-
cumstances?" His knees trembled, his head drooped.
" Bolnau! " he thought " Bolnau, royal Councilor of Com-
merce! Suppose the singer were to die, and the maid-
servant were to tell her secret! The police authorities
would then know all about the murder, and all about this
terrible last word. What could not a clever, ambitious law-
yer make of this single word, some young man who was
anxious to make a name by a cause celebre? " The coun-
cilor put up his lorgnette and stared in despair at the prison,
the gables of which he could just see in the distance. " That
would be your goal, Bolnau. Perhaps they would make it
a short term only, because of many years of faithful service
to your country ! "
He breathed heavily and loosened his cravat, then
dropped his hand with a start of terror. Was not that the
spot the rope encircled ? that the cold steel cut through ?
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Wilhelm Hauff
If he met an acquaintance who bowed to him, he said
to himself : " He knows about it already, and wants to show
me that he understands." If another friend passed hastily
without seeing him, then he was sure that this person knew
also all about it and did not wish any further acquaintance
with a murderer. A little more, and he would soon come
to believe that he himself had really committed the murder.
It was no wonder that he made a wide curve to avoid the
police station. Might not the commissioner be standing
at the window, see him, and call down to him, " Come up
here a moment, I have a word to say to you"? He al-
ready felt a guilty trembling in all his limbs ; he was already
conscious of a desire to control all possible emotion in his
face. Was it not he whom the unfortunate singer had ac-
cused with her last word?
Then he suddenly remembered that all this emotion was
exceedingly bad for his health. He looked eagerly about
for window panes to count, but the houses danced before
his eyes, and the church steeple seemed to drop him a mock-
ing courtesy. A terror of alarm seized him ; he ran hastily
through the streets until he sank down breathless in his
own armchair. His first question, when he had come to
himself again, was whether anyone from the police station
had come to ask for him.
IV
WHEN Dr. Lange came to see his patient that evening,
he found her much better than he had hoped. He sat
down beside her bed and began to talk with her about the
unfortunate affair. She was resting one elbow on her pil-
lows, while her delicate hand supported her beautiful head.
Her face was still very pale ; her great exhaustion seemed
to give her but one charm the more, and her dark eyes had
lost nothing of their expressiveness, nothing of the fire
which had attracted the doctor, even though he was no
longer in those years where imagination heightens beauty.
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German Mystery Stories
He said to himself that he had seldom seen so sweet a face.
Her features were not regular, but there was a harmony,
a charm about them for which he could not find the reason
at first. But his eyes, experienced in reading the soul, soon
saw that it was the nobility, the purity of her spirit, which
shed such a radiance over her virginal beauty. " You seem
to be studying my features, doctor," said the singer, smiling.
" You sit there so quiet looking at me, and you seem to
forget what I have just asked you. Or perhaps you do not
wish to give the answer. May I not know what people say
about my misfortune ? "
" Why should you wish to hear all the foolish gossip
started by idle tongues? I was just thinking how pure your
soul shines out from your eyes. You have found peace
within yourself; what, therefore, do you care for the opin-
ions of others ? "
" You are evading me," she answered. " You wish to
avoid giving me an answer by paying me compliments.
Why should I not care for the opinion of others? What
honest girl may dare to ignore the society in which she
lives may dare to say that it is of no importance to her
what people say about her? Or do you believe, perhaps,"
she continued more gravely, " that I do not care about the
gossip because I belong to a profession in which the world
has little confidence? Confess that you take me to be as
careless as some of the others ! "
" Most assuredly not. I have never heard anything but
good said about you, Signora Bianetti. What else would
there be but good to say of your quiet, retired life, and of
your calm reserve when you do go out into the world ? But
why do you insist upon knowing what they say now? As
your physician, I may not think that it is yet time to tell
you."
" Oh, please, doctor please do not torture me like this,"
she cried. " I can read in your eyes that it is no good
thing they say of me now. Do you not think that this un-
certainty is far worse for me than the truth could be ? "
The doctor saw the truth of this last remark, and he
94
Wilhelm Hauff
feared also that during his absence some gossiping woman
might intrude upon his patient and tell her worse things
than he would say.
" You know the people here," he began. " B. is quite
a city, but when an event of this kind happens we learn
how provincial we still are. It is true that everyone in the
city is talking about you now, but you cannot be surprised
at that. And as nothing definite is known, why then
why then, they invent all sorts of things. For instance, this
masked man to whom you were seen talking at the ball,
and who without doubt is the person who committed this
deed, they say that he is "
" Well, what do they say ? " begged the singer in excite-
ment. " Please tell me."
" They say that it is some former lover who knew you
in some other city, and who tried to kill you because of
jealousy."
" They can say that ! Oh, how miserable I am ! " she
cried in emotion, while tears shone in her beautiful eyes.
" How hard people are toward a poor unprotected girl.
But tell me more, doctor, tell me more ! You are keeping
something from me, I know it. What other city do they
say was it that "
" Signora, I should have thought that you had more self-
control ! " said Lange, alarmed at the excitement of his
patient. " In truth I am sorry that I have already said so
much. I would not have said even this had I not feared
that some one else might do so."
The singer dried her tears hastily. " I will be very quiet,"
she said with a sad smile. " I will be as quiet as a good
child. I will try to think that all these people who are
now condemning me were applauding me. And now tell
me more, dear good doctor, tell me more ! "
" Oh, well, these idle tongues say stupid things," con-
tinued the physician reluctantly. " It seems that the other
evening, when you appeared in ' Othello,' there was a
strange nobleman here visiting some one in the city. He is
said to have recognized you and to have declared that
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German Mystery Stories
about two years ago he saw you in Paris in exceedingly bad
company but, dear me you are so pale "
" No, no, the lamp is growing dim ; tell me more ! "
" This talk went about in the higher circles only at first,
but a little later it leaked out, and the general public seemed
to know of it. Now that this affair has occurred, people
are trying to connect the two, and they say that the crime
has something to do with your former life in Paris."
The expressive features of the sick girl had changed from
deepest pallor to flaming red during the last sentences. She
had raised herself up in bed as if she would not lose a word
of it, her eyes rested hotly upon the mouth of her physi-
cian, she scarcely seemed to breathe. " Ah, now it is all
over ! " she cried, while tears burst from her eyes. " If he
should hear this, it would be too much for his jealous na-
ture. Why did I not die yesterday? Then I should have
been with my good father and my sweet mother they
would have comforted me, and I should not have known
the scorn of these cruel people ! "
The doctor was still pondering over these strange words,
and was seeking some comfort to give her, when the door
flew open hastily and a tall young man rushed in. His face
was very handsome, but his features were darkened by an
expression of wild defiance; his eyes rolled, his hair hung
loose around his forehead. He had a large roll of music
in one hand, with which he gesticulated violently before
he could find breath to speak. The singer cried out at
his entrance. The doctor thought at first that her scream
was one of fear; but he saw in a moment that it was joy,
for a sweet smile had parted her lips and her eyes shone
through the tears.
" Carlo ! " she cried. " Carlo ! Are you come at last to
see me?"
" Miserable woman ! " cried the young man, stretching
his arm, with the roll of music, majestically toward her.
" Let me hear no more of your siren song. I am come
to judge you ! "
" Oh, Carlo ! " interrupted the singer, her voice as soft
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Wilhelm Hauff
and sweet as the tones of a flute. " How can you speak
so to your Giuseppa! "
The young man was apparently preparing an answer,
when the doctor, who found this scene much too exciting
for his patient, intervened between them. " My dear Mr.
Carlo," he said, offering him his snuff-box, " would you
kindly remember that mademoiselle* is in no condition to
have her nerves played upon in such manner?"
The stranger turned wide eyes on him, and pointing the
roll at him inquired, in a deep, threatening voice, " Who
are you, earthworm, that you dare intervene between me
and my anger ? "
" I am Court Physician Lange," replied the latter, clos-
ing his snuff-box. " And among my several titles there is
nothing about an earthworm. I am master here as long
as the signora is ill, and I tell you in all kindness that I
will put you out unless you modulate your presto assai to
a respectable lar ghetto."
" Oh, do not worry him, doctor," cried the sick woman
anxiously. " Do not make him angry. Carlo is my friend
he will not harm me, whatever evil tongues may have told
him concerning me."
" Ha ! You dare to mock me ? But know, miserable
creature, the lightning has burst the door of your secret,
and illumined the night in which I have been walking!
Was it because of this that you would not let me know
where you came from? who you were? For this reason,
therefore, did you close my mouth with kisses when I would
ask about your past life? Fool that I am, to let myself be
charmed by a woman's voice, although I knew that it is
but deception and falsity. Only in the song of man is there
truth and strength, del! How could I let myself be car-
ried away by the roulades of a worthless creature ! "
" Oh, Carlo ! " whispered the invalid, " if you only knew
how your words wound my heart! Your suspicions strike
deeper than did the murderer's steel ! "
The stranger laughed a harsh laugh. " Ah, yes, indeed,
my fair dove ! You would wish your lovers deaf and blind,
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German Mystery Stores
would you not? This Parisian must have been a clever
fellow to find you again so soon."
" This is too much ! " cried the doctor, catching the other
by the arm. " You leave this room at once or I will call
up the janitor of the house to put you out with violence."
" I'm going, earthworm, I'm going ! " cried the stranger,
pushing the doctor gently down into an armchair. " I am
going, Giuseppa, never to return again ! If you die, miser-
able woman, hide your soul in some corner where I can
never meet you ! I would curse Heaven if I must share it
with you! you have robbed me so cruelly of my love, of
my very life ! " He gesticulated again with the roll of
music, but his wildly rolling eye was dim with tears as he
threw a last look at the sick girl and then rushed sobbing
from the room.
" Oh, follow him, stop him ! " cried the singer. " Bring
him back, or I shall never be happy again ! "
" No, indeed, my dear young lady," replied Dr. Lange,
getting up out of his armchair. " We must have no more
such scenes here. I will prescribe for you some soothing
drops, which you must take every hour."
The poor girl had sunk back in her cushions and had
fainted again. The doctor called a servant and they worked
together to restore the patient to her senses. During this
time the doctor could not resist the temptation to scold the
serving maid. " Did I not tell you that nobody should be
allowed to enter this room? And here you let this crazy
man in, who was near being the death of your young
lady!"
" I didn't let anybody in," answered the girl, sobbing.
" But I couldn't refuse him. Signora sent me to his house
three times already to-day to implore him to come to her,
if only for a moment. I was to say that she was dying
and that she must see him once more before her death."
" Indeed? And who is this "
The sick woman opened her eyes. She looked first at the
doctor then at her servant, then her eyes wandered uneasily
about the room. " He is gone, he is gone forever," she
Wilhelm Hauff
whispered weakly. " Oh, dear doctor, please go to Bol-
nau!"
" For mercy's sake, what do you want of my poor old
councilor? This affair has already thrown him on a sick
bed. How could he possibly help you? "
" I made a mistake," she said. " I meant you should go
to my friend, the foreign orchestra leader. His name is
Boloni, and he lives in the Hotel de Portugal."
" I remember having heard about him," said the doctor.
" But what shall I say to him when I see him ? "
" Tell him that I will explain everything if he will only
come once more but no, I could never tell him myself
would you tell him, doctor ? I have such confidence in you
if I told you everything, you would explain it to him,
would you not ? "
" I am quite at your disposal, and will do everything I
can to ease your mind."
" Then come back to-morrow morning. I do not feel
able to talk any more to-day. And one thing more. Ba-
bette, give the doctor his handkerchief."
The servant opened a cupboard and handed the doctor a
handkerchief of yellow silk which exhaled a strong but
pleasant perfume.
" This is not mine," said the doctor. " I use only linen
handkerchiefs. You have made a mistake in the owner."
" But that is impossible, sir," replied the girl. " We found
it on the floor last night. It does not belong to any of us,
and no one has been here but yourself."
The doctor's eyes met those of his patient, which were
resting in anxious expectation on his face. " Could not this
belong to some one else ? " he asked firmly.
" Show it to me," she replied anxiously. " I had not
thought of that." She examined the cloth and found a
monogram in one corner. Her cheek paled and she began
to tremble.
" You seem to know that name. You perhaps know also
the person who has lost this handkerchief ? " continued
Lange. " It might be of use to us.; may I take it with me? "
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Giuseppa seemed fighting with herself for a decision.
Finally she said : " Take it ! Even if the terrible man
should come once more, and better strike my suffering heart
this time even then! Take it, doctor. To-morrow I will
explain this handkerchief and other things to you."
IT is easy to imagine how completely this affair occupied
the thoughts of Dr. Lange. His extensive practice was as
much of a burden to him now as it had hitherto been a
delight. The many other visits he was obliged to make
kept him away from the singer until quite late the follow-
ing morning, in spite of his impatience to be at her bedside.
But these visits were not quite an unmixed evil, for in all
the different houses he could listen to what was being said
about Signora Bianetta. And he hoped also to be able to
learn something more about her strange lover, Boloni.
The opinions as to the singer were not very favorable.
The judgment was all the harsher because the gossips were
angry at not being able to hear anything definite about the
matter. And what young and beautiful maiden, who is
also successful as an artist, has not many enemies made by
envy? The strange musician was little known in the city.
He had come to B. a little less than a year ago, and
lived very quietly in a small upper room in his hotel. He
seemed to be making a living by giving singing lessons
and composing music. All those who knew him seemed
to think that he was just a little crazy. But the few who
had become his friends spoke of him as being very inter-
esting, and some of them went regularly to the Hotel de
Portugal for supper, to be able to listen to his delightful
conversation on musical subjects. Boloni seemed to have
no relatives or no intimate friends here. People did not
seem to suspect his relations with the singer Bianetti.
Councilor Bolnau was still ill in bed. He was much de-
pressed, and spoke incessantly of things which usually did
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not interest him at all. He had bought a collection of law
books which he was eagerly studying. His wife said that
he had read throughout the preceding night, and that she
had heard him moaning. His study was particularly di-
rected toward the subject of the unjustly accused, especially
such of them as had been executed, although quite innocent.
He told his friend the doctor that there was much comfort
in the slowness of law proceedings in Germany, for if a
suit lasted ten years or more it was safer for those who
were really innocent, than in places where they arrested you
one day and hanged you the next.
When the doctor finally reached the home of the singer
Bianetti, he found his patient much depressed and very un-
happy. Her wound appeared to be healing well, but with
her growing physical health the calmness of her soul
seemed to be vanishing. " I have been thinking over all
these things," she said. " Is it not strange, doctor, that
you should have come into my life in this peculiar way?
Two days ago I scarcely knew of your existence. And now
that I am so unhappy, I have found a kind, fatherly friend
in you."
" Mademoiselle Bianetti," replied Lange, " the physician
has more to do by the sick bed than merely to feel the
pulse, to bind up wounds and to prescribe medicines. Be-
lieve me, when we sit alone by our patient, when we hear
the inner pulse, the pulse of the soul, beating so uneasily,
when we know that there are wounds to heal which cannot
be seen then the physician is lost in the friend, and we see
anew the wonderful interrelation between body and soul."
" Yes, indeed, that is it! " said Giuseppa, taking his hand.
" That is it, and my soul also has found its physician in you.
You may have to do much for me ; you may even have to
appear in the courts in my name. If you are willing to
make this great sacrifice for a poor girl who has no one
else, then I will tell you everything."
"You may depend upon me for everything," said the
kind old man, pressing her hand warmly.
" But think well before you promise ! The world has
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cast a slur upon my reputation; it has accused, judged,
and condemned me. Will it not throw scorn upon you
when you take the part of the maligned singer, of the
friendless foreigner ? "
" I am not afraid," cried the doctor ardently. " And now
tell me your story."
VI
THE singer began : " My father was Antonio Bianetti, a
celebrated violinist, whose name you may have heard, as
his travels led him through many countries. I can remem-
ber him only from my very earliest childhood, when he
taught me the scales. My mother was an excellent singer,
and accompanied my father on his travels, appearing with
him at his concerts. I was four years old when my father
died on one of his journeys, and left us in great poverty.
My mother was obliged to support us by her singing. A
year later she married a musician who had been very flat-
tering in his compliments and attentions. But she soon saw
that he had married her only to utilize her voice. He be-
came musical director in a little city in Alsatia, and then
our sorrows began.
" My mother had three more children and lost her voice
completely. This cut off the better part of my stepfather's
income, for it was my mother's singing which had been the
main attraction at his concerts. He was very cruel to her
after this, and even refused me proper food until he hit
upon a means of making me useful. He forced me to sing
many hours each day, teaching me the most difficult music,
and he made of me one of those unfortunate infant prodi-
gies to whom nature has given a beautiful talent to their
own misfortune. My mother could not endure the sight of
my suffering. She seemed to be fading away, and we found
her dead in bed one morning. What shall I tell you of the
years that followed, years of martyrdom for me? I was
but eleven years old, and had to attend to the housekeeping,
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to educate the smaller children, and to learn the songs for
my concerts. It was indeed a time of torture !
" During these years a strange gentleman would come to
visit us occasionally, bringing with him a bag full of money
for my father. Even now I shiver when I think of him.
He was a tall gaunt man of about middle age. The piercing
glance of his small gray eyes cannot be forgotten by anyone
who has seen him. He seemed to be particularly fond of
me. He praised my size, my face, my figure, and my sing-
ing. In spite of my protests he would take me on his knee
and kiss me, with the words : ' Two or three years more,
and you will be ready, little one ! ' and then he and my
stepfather would burst into a wild, coarse laugh. On my
fifteenth birthday my stepfather said to me : ' Listen, Giu-
seppa! You have nothing, you are nothing, and you need
expect nothing from me. I have enough to do to care for
my own three. Little Christel can now take your place as
infant prodigy. All you have your singing you have me
to thank for, and that must help you to get along in the
world. But your uncle in Paris has promised to take you
into his house/ ' My uncle in Paris ? ' I cried in aston-
ishment, for I had never heard of any such person. * Yes,
your uncle in Paris. He may be here any day/
" You can perhaps imagine how delighted I was at this.
It is now three years ago, but I can still remember the hap-
piness of those hours as clearly as if it were but yesterday.
It was almost too much happiness to think of the chance
of escape from my stepfather's house, to think of an uncle
kind enough to take pity on me, and also to think of going
to Paris, which had always seemed to me the home of
brightness and pleasure. Finally, one evening, a carriage
stopped at our door. ' That is your uncle,' said my father.
I ran downstairs, threw open the door what a terrible dis-
appointment awaited me! It was the man with the bags
of money.
" I was almost unconscious from fright and disappoint-
ment, but I cannot forget the ghastly joy that shone out
of his graj eyes when he saw how tall I had grown. I
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can still hear his hoarse voice in my ears : ' Ah. now you are
ready, my dear! Now I can introduce you into the great
world/ He took me by the hand, and threw the bag which
he carried on the table. A shower of gold and silver pieces
rolled out of it, and my father cried aloud with joy, while
the smaller children crawled about picking up the money
that had fallen to the floor. It was the price of my body
and soul!
" The following day we set out for Paris. The gaunt
man (I could not bring myself to call him uncle) talked to
me incessantly of the brilliant part I should play in his
salons. I could not feel any pleasure in it; a strange fear
had taken the place of all my joy and happiness. We
reached Paris at last, and our carriage stopped before a
large brilliantly lighted house. Ten or twelve very pretty
girls danced down the broad staircase to meet us. They em-
braced and kissed me, and called me their sister Giuseppa.
I asked the man, ' Are these all your daughters, sir ? ' ' Yes,
they are all my good children/ he answered, laughing, and
the girls and the many servants standing about also laughed
loudly.
" The magnificent apartments and the beautiful garments
that were given me distracted my troubled mind a little.
The following evening I was most beautifully dressed and
led into the drawing-room. The twelve girls, also mag-
nificently attired, sat about at card tables and on sofas.
They were carrying on a lively conversation with a num-
ber of gentlemen of varying ages. When I appeared they
all stopped talking and looked at me. The owner of the
house led me to the piano and told me to sing. When I
had finished they all applauded enthusiastically. Some of
them began to talk to me, and appeared much entertained
by my awkward French, which was half Italian. They
paid me many compliments, and I blush now to think of
some of the words they said. My life went on thus for
several days very pleasantly. No one troubled me, I could
do as I chose, I had everything I wished for, and I might
have been quite content had I not felt that strange fear of
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this house and of these people. I would try to explain it
by my own ignorance, saying to myself that this was the
great world, and that I should learn to grow accustomed
to its ways.
" And now, dear doctor, look at this insignificant little
bit of paper. To it I owe my rescue. I found it one morn-
ing on my breakfast tray, hidden beneath a roll. I do not
know what kind hand laid it there, but may heaven for-
ever bless the writer of it, who had taken pity on me before
it was too late! In the letter were the words:
'"MADEMOISELLE
" ' This house in which you live has the worst possible reputation.
The women who surround you are unfit companions for any good
girl. Should we have been mistaken in believing Giuseppa innocent
of this knowledge? Is she willing to purchase a short time of
pleasure with many years of repentance ? '
" It was terrible news, for it suddenly, almost too sud-
denly, tore aside the happy veil of childish innocence that
had rested over my soul and it destroyed all my hopes
for the future. What was I to do? I was still too young
to have learned to make important decisions for myself.
The man to whom this house belonged appeared to me
like an evil magician who was able to read all my thoughts,
who might indeed already know that I had learned the
truth. And yet I would rather have died than stay a mo-
ment longer in that house. I had heard a girl in the house
opposite ours speaking Italian now and then. I did not
know her but did I know anyone else in this great city?
The sounds of my own language awoke confidence in me!
I would flee to her and on my knees I would implore her
to save me.
" It was but seven o'clock in the morning. Following
the habits of my childhood I was accustomed to rise early,
and it was this that saved me. At such an hour everyone
in the house, even to the majority of the servants, was still
asleep. Only the concierge might possibly see me, but
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German Mystery Stories
he was not likely to imagine that anyone could wish to
escape. I dared the attempt. Throwing a plain dark cloak
about me, I hurried down the stairs and slipped past the
man at the door without his noticing me. Three steps
more and I was free.
" Across the street to the right lived the Italian girl.
I sprang across the roadway and knocked at the door.
When the servant opened it I asked for the signora with
the dark curls, who could speak Italian. The man laughed
and said I probably meant her excellency, the young
Countess Seraphina. ' Yes, yes/ I exclaimed, ' please lead
me to her quickly!' He seemed to hesitate at first for
it was still so early, but my entreaties won him over. He
led me up to a room in the second story, told me to wait
there and called a serving maid whom he told to announce
me to her excellency. I had thought that the pretty Italian
girl was some one of my own class in life; I felt almost
ashamed to have to tell my story to a young lady of such
position. But I had no time for hesitation; the maid re-
turned in a moment to lead me to the bed of her young
mistress. It was indeed the beautiful young lady whom
I had heard speaking Italian. I fell on my knees before
her and implored her protection. When she had heard
my story she was much moved, and promised to save me.
She sent for the man who had let me into the house, and
commanded him to say nothing to anyone about my being
there. She told them to give me a little room, the win-
dows of which opened on to the court. She had my food
sent to me there, gave me some sewing to occupy my
mind, and I lived there for several days, full of joy over
my rescue mingled with anxiety for my future.
" The house to which I had fled was the home of the
ambassador of a small German court. Her excellency was
his niece, a young Italian countess, who was completing
her education in Paris. She was a most kind and amiable
creature, whose benevolence to me I shall never forget.
She came to see me every day and tried to comfort me.
She told me that her uncle had sent his servants on a
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secret investigation of the house opposite. The occupants
of it were in great alarm at my disappearance, but they
were anxious that no word of it should be spread abroad.
The servants whispered among themselves that one of
the young ladies had thrown herself from a window of the
second story into the canal. It happened that my room
had been on a corner, one window looking out upon the
street, the other down on to the canal which flowed past
the house. I remember to have opened the window on
that side the morning of my escape; it had probably re-
mained open, and in this way my disappearance was
apparently explained. Signora Seraphina was just about
to return to Italy, and she was kind enough to take
me with her. She did even more than this: she per-
suaded her parents to take me into their home in Pia-
cenza. She engaged masters to perfect my talent. I have
to thank her for my art, for my freedom, for my life itself,
perhaps.
" It was in Piacenza that I became acquainted with the
musical director, Carlo Boloni. In spite of his name, how-
ever, he is not an Italian. He seemed to love me, but
he did not declare himself to me there. Soon after making
his acquaintance I accepted the engagement at this theater.
People have been kind to me here; the public has seemed
to admire me. My manner of life and my reputation have
been unspotted by any calumny. In all these months no
man has ever visited me except I can confess our beau-
tiful relations to you without a blush except Boloni, who
soon followed me here. Now you have heard my story.
Tell me candidly, do you think that I have done anything
to deserve such bitter punishment? How have I sinned
that this terrible thing should happen to me? "
When the singer had finished talking, the physician took
her hand and pressed it warmly. " I am very happy," he
said, " to join the little company of those who have been
good to you. It is not much that I can do, it is out of
my power to help you to the extent that the kind young
countess has done, but I will try to do what can be done
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to clear up the matter here; and I will also endeavor to
bring about a reconciliation with your hot-tempered friend.
But tell me, what nationality is this Signor Boloni? "
" Now you are asking me too much," she answered
evasively. " All I know is that he is of German birth, and
I have understood that he left his home because of a
family quarrel. He has been in England and in Italy, and
has been here less than a year."
" But why haven't you told him the story you have told
me just now?"
Giuseppa blushed at the question. She looked down as
she answered : " You are my physician, my fatherly friend.
When I speak to you I feel as a child might feel when con-
fiding in its father. But how could I speak to a young
man about such things? I know his jealous temperament,
his easily excited nature. I would never dare to tell him
of this terrible snare that I have escaped."
" I honor and admire your feelings, my dear child. Be-
lieve me, it does an old man good to find such delicacy of
scruple in these days, when it seems to be considered good
form to forget all scruple. But you have not told me
all. That evening at the ball, that terrible night? "
" It is true, I have still more to tell you. Whenever
I thought back over my rescue, I would send up silent
thanks to Heaven that my good fortune had led me to such
kind people. And also did I praise Heaven that, in that
terrible house from which I had escaped, they believed
me to be dead. For I knew that if that dreadful man
had any suspicion that I was still alive, he would come
to drag back his victim, or to kill her. For he had doubt-
less given my father much money for me. Therefore, as
long as I was in Piacenza I would not accept any of the
many favorable offers I received to make a public appear-
ance. But one day, when I had been there about a year
and a half, Countess Seraphina showed me a Paris news-
paper in which I read the announcement of the death of
the Chevalier de Planto."
"Chevalier de Planto?" interrupted the physician.
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Wilhelm Hauff
" Was that the name of the man who took you from your
stepfather's house?"
" Yes, that was what he was called. This news from
Paris made me very happy and took away the last obstacle
to a public appearance, and to the possibility of my no
longer being a burden to my benefactors. A few weeks
later I came here to B. Two days ago, as you know, I
went to the ball, and I will confess to you that I was in
a very happy mood. I had not told Boloni what costume
I was to wear. I wished to tease him and then surprise
him. But suddenly, as I chanced to be standing alone,
a voice whispered in my ear, ' Seppa, how is your uncle?'
It was like a clap of thunder. I had not heard that name
since the day I had escaped from that terrible man. ' My
uncle?' I had no uncle, and there was but one who had
passed for my uncle in the eyes of the world, the Chevalier
de Planto. I could scarcely control myself sufficiently
to reply, ' You must be mistaken.' I attempted to hurry
away and hide myself in the crowd, but the stranger pushed
his arm through mine and held me fast. ' Seppa,' he whis-
pered, ' I warn you that you had better walk quietly along
with me, or else I will tell all these good people of the
company you once kept.' I was crushed, everything looked
black before my eyes I seemed to have but one thought,
a terrible fear of shame. What could a poor helpless girl
do, when this stranger, whoever he might be, could tell
the world such things of me? It would have been only too
readily believed, and Carlo, alas! would not have been the
last to accept it as true and to condemn me. Helplessly I
followed the man at my side. He whispered dreadful
things to me. He told me that I had rendered my uncle,
my stepfather, most unhappy, that I had ruined my entire
family. When I could endure it no longer I tore myself
away and called for my carriage. But as I looked back
once more on the staircase the dreadful stranger was be-
hind me. ' I will drive home with you, Seppa,' he said
with a hoarse laugh. ' I have a few words more to say
to you.' I must have fainted, for I remember nothing very
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clearly until the carriage stopped before this house. I
entered my room ; he followed me and began to talk to me
at once. In deadly terror that he would betray me, I told
Babette to leave the room. ' What do you want of me,
wretch?' I cried in anger. * What evil can you say of
me? It was without my own consent that I entered that
house, and I left it as soon as I saw what I had to expect
there/
, " ' Do not make a scene, Seppa. There are but two ways
to save yourself. Either you pay me ten thousand francs
at once, in jewels or in gold, or you follow me to Paris.
You must do one of these things, or the whole city will
know more about you than you would like.' I was beside
myself with rage and horror. ' Who gives you the right
to make such demands of me ? ' I cried. ' Tell them if
you must, but leave my house this instant or I will call
the neighbors ! '
" I made several steps toward the window, but he fol-
lowed me and caught my arm. ' Who gives me the right? '
he repeated. * Your father, my dear, your father/ A hor-
rible laugh burst from his lips, the light of the candles
fell upon a pair of piercing gray eyes, and I knew who it
was that I saw before me. I knew that his death had
been only a pretense, a lie spread abroad for some evil
purpose. Despair gave me strength. I tore myself from
his hold and endeavored to snatch off his mask. ' I know
you, Chevalier de Planto ! ' I cried, ' and you must answer
before the Court of Justice for your treatment of me ! '
' Not too fast, my darling/ he said, and as he spoke 1 felt
the steel in my heart I believed myself dying."
The doctor shivered. It was a bright day, and yet he
felt the shudder one experiences when speaking of ghosts
in the dark. It seemed to him that he could hear the
hoarse laugh of this Satan, that he could see the monster's
piercing gray eyes behind the curtains of the bed. " Then
you believe/' he said after a few moments, "that the
chevalier is not dead, and that it is he who attempted to
murder you? "
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Wilhelm Banff
" His voice, his eyes, tell me that it was he. The hand-
kerchief I gave you yesterday makes it quite certain. It
had his initials in the corner."
" And will you give me authority to act for you ? May
I tell in court what you have told me now?"
" I have no other choice; you may tell everything. But
first, dear doctor, please go to Boloni and tell him what
I have told you. He will believe you; he knows Countess
Seraphina also."
" And may I not also know," continued the physician,
" the name of the ambassador in whose house you were
hidden?"
"Why not? it was Baron Martinow."
"Baron Martinow?" cried Lange in pleasant excite-
ment. " He who was in the diplomatic service of Prince
X ?"
" You know him? He was the ambassador of the
prince's court in Paris, and later in St. Petersburg."
" Oh, that is very good, very good ! " said the physician,
rubbing his hands joyfully. " I know him, and he is in
this very town, having arrived yesterday. He sent for
me this morning; he has taken rooms in the Hotel de
Portugal."
A tear shone in the singer's eyes, and she appeared
much moved. "What a happy chance!" she exclaimed.
" I had imagined him many hundred miles away, and now
he is here; and he can bear witness to the truth of my
story. Oh, hurry to him and oh! if Carlo could only
be with you when he assures you that I have told the
truth!"
" He shall be with me. I will drag him there, depend
upon me. And now, my dear child, farewell for to-day.
You may be quite calm, fate will be kind to you once more,
I know. And be sure that you take the medicine I left for
you, two spoonfuls every hour."
The doctor left the room, looking back to receive an-
other grateful glance from his patient. She seemed calm
and happy. It was as if the narration of her story had
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lifted a heavy weight from her soul. She looked with con-
fidence to the future, for a more fortunate fate seemed
dawning for her.
VII
BARON MARTINOW, for whom Dr. Lange had done an
important service some years before, welcomed him gladly
and told him all he wished to know about the singer Bian-
etti. The baron not only corroborated the truth of her
story, but he was enthusiastic in his praise of her charac-
ter. He promised to talk about her in this way to everyone
whom he should meet in the city, and to refute the rumors
that were in circulation. He kept his promise, and his high
position, and his open praise of the Italian singer caused
a complete reversion of opinion in her favor within a few
days. But Dr. Lange, when he had finished his visit to the
ambassador, mounted a few stories higher in the hotel to
No. 54, the room where the musician lived. He stood
before the door for an instant to get his breath, for the
steep stairs had fatigued him. Then he listened, for he
heard strange sounds behind the door. There seemed
to be some one seriously ill within the room; he heard
sighs and deep groans, mingled with dreadful French and
Italian curses, and now and then a hoarse, despairing
laugh. The physician shuddered. He remembered that the
musician's excitability of the day before had seemed to
him almost like insanity. Could he have gone altogether
mad through sorrow? Dr. Lange's hand was already raised
to knock at the door when he noticed that it was No. 53,
and he recognized with relief that he had made a mistake.
When he stopped before No. 54, he heard sounds of a
different character. A man's voice, rich and sweet, was
singing to the accompaniment of a piano. The doctor en-
tered and found the young man he had seen in the singer's
house the day before.
Guitars, violins, loose strings, and sheets of music lay
scattered about the room. In the midst of it all stood the
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musician in a loose black dressing-gown, a red cap on his
head, and a roll of music in his hands. Dr. Lange said
later that all he could think of was Marius amid the ruins
of Carthage.
The young man seemed to remember him, arid his wel-
come was a gloomy one. But he was polite enough to
push a pile of music from a chair, which he then offered
to his visitor. He himself walked about the room with
long steps, the flying tails of his dressing-gown taking
the dust neatly off the tables and books.
He did not give the visitor time to say a word, but began
at once: " You come from her? Aren't you ashamed, with
your gray hairs, to be the messenger of a woman like
that? I will hear nothing more of her. I have buried my
happiness, I am mourning for my dead love. You see
I am wearing my black dressing-gown. If you have any
understanding of the workings of the soul, this should
prove to you that that woman is dead for me. Oh, Giu-
seppa! "
" Honored sir," interrupted the doctor, " if you will but
hear me "
"Hear? What do you know about hearing? Let me
try your ear, old man! Listen now, this is Woman," he
continued, throwing open the top of the piano and playing
something which seemed to the physician, who had no
great knowledge of music, to be very much like other
tunes he had heard. " Do you hear how soft this is, how
melting, how clinging? But do you not notice also in
these intervals the unreliable, fickle character of these crea-
tures? But now listen " He raised his voice and his eyes
shone as he threw back the wide sleeves of his mourning
garment " Where men are gathered, there is power and
truth ! Here there is nothing impure, here are truly noble
and beautiful tones ! " He pounded about on the keys with
great energy, but it seemed to the doctor that this also was
like most other music he had heard.
" You have rather a peculiar manner of characterizing
people," said the doctor. " As we are in the business, might
German Mystery Stories
I ask you to show me what a court physician would sound
like on a piano?"
The musician looked at him with scorn. " How dare
you, earthworm, interrupt my brilliant and magnificent
harmonies with your squeaky C sharp?"
The physician's answer was interrupted by a knocking
at the door. A crooked little man entered, bowed deeply
and said: " The sick gentleman in No. 53 begs the hon-
ored director not to make so much noise, for he is very
weak and probably very near his passing away from this
earth."
" I send my most obedient respects to the gentleman,"
replied the young man. " As far as I am concerned he may
pass away from this earth as soon as he chooses. He keeps
me awake all night with his moaning and his groaning,
and he makes me shiver with his godless curses and his
horrible laugh. Does this Frenchman imagine that he
owns the hotel? If I disturb him, so he disturbs me also."
" But your honor will forgive me," said the little man.
" He'll not last much longer, you wouldn't disturb his last
moments "
" Is the gentleman so ill? " asked the physician in sym-
pathy. "What is the matter with him? Who is taking
care of him? And who is he? "
" I do not know who he is, for I am hired to care for
him in the hotel by the day. I think he calls himself Lorier,
and comes from France. He was all right day before yes-
terday, only a little melancholy. He did not go out at all,
and did not seem to want to see the sights of the city. But
then I found him very ill in bed one morning, and he said
that he had had an apoplectic stroke during the night. But
he won't let me bring him a physician, and he curses me
when I say I will fetch one. He takes care of himself, and
bandages himself. I think he has some old wound from
the war, which has opened again."
Just then they heard the hoarse voice of the sick man
next door calling amid curses. The little lackey crossed
himself and hurried away.
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Wllhelm Hauff
The doctor began again at his task of bringing the stub-
born lover to reason, and this time with more success. The
musician had taken up an opera score, and was gently hum-
ming portions of it. The physician took advantage of this
quieter mood, and began to tell the story the singer had
told him yesterday. His host did not seem to pay any
attention to him at first. He read his score as absorbedly
as if he were alone in his room. But gradually he began
to take notice, and now and then stopped singing. He
would then raise his eye from his book and glance at his
visitor. Finally, he dropped the score altogether and gazed
at the speaker. His eyes shone, he moved nearer, and
snatched at the arm of the doctor. When the latter had
finished his narrative, the young musician sprang up and
ran excitedly about the room. " Yes," he exclaimed, " it
sounds like truth; there is a gleam of truth in it it may
possibly be as you say. But, by Satan! might it not also
be all a lie?"
"Why such sudden decrescendo, honored artist? Why
jump from truth to lies at one leap? And if I bring you
a witness for the truth what then, my maestro ? "
Boloni stood before him looking down at him. " Ah, if
you could do this! I would frame you in gold! This
thought alone demands a royal reward. Ah! if we could
find a witness but it is all so black around me a tangled
labyrinth no escape no guiding star "
" Most honored friend," interrupted the doctor, " that
sounds to me very much like some lines from Schiller's
* Robbers/ But in spite of it I do know such a witness,
such a guiding star."
" Ah ! bring him to me ! " cried the other. " He shall be
my friend, my angel, my God I will worship him ! "
" Now you are leaving out something. I seem to re- ,
member some words about a burning sword there. But I
can convince you of my good will. The ambassador who
received poor Giuseppa into his house happens by a lucky
chance to be in this hotel occupying the first-floor suite. If
you will condescend to put on a coat and a cravat, I will
German Mystery Stories
lead you to him. He has promised to give you all the
assurance you need."
The young man pressed the doctor's hand warmly. But
even then he could not resist a certain theatrical pathos.
" You are my good angel," he said with much expression.
" I owe you inexpressible thanks ! I will slip into my coat
and follow you at once to the ambassador's rooms."
VIII
THE reconciliation with her lover seemed to have a more
beneficial effect upon the singer than did her medicines.
She recovered quickly in the next few days, and was soon
well enough to leave her bed, and to receive her sympathiz-
ing friends in her boudoir.
The chief of police had been waiting for this improve-
ment in her condition to take up the case officially. He
was a cautious and capable man, and rumor said that it
was not easy for the criminal to escape upon whom his eye
had once fallen. Dr. Lange had told him the singer's his-
tory, and he had received still further information from
Baron Martinow. The ambassador told him that he had
caused the authorities to investigate the life and the busi-
ness dealings of the Chevalier de Planto. He had not
neglected to emphasize the fact that the poor child had
been actually sold. Shortly after Giuseppa had left Paris the
house from which she had fled had been closed by the po-
lice, and the baron attributed this action to the information
he had given. He also had heard of the chevalier's death,
but believed, as "did the police chief, that it was only a blind
by means of which he might the more easily continue his
nefarious business. For both men had no doubt that it was
this man who had attempted to murder the singer. But it
would be very difficult to follow the trace of this murderer.
All the strangers who had been in B. at the time were quite
above suspicion. However, they had the handkerchief which
had been found in Signora Bianetti's room, and the descrip-
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tion of it had been given to all seamstresses and all laun-
dresses who had the care of the garments of strangers in
the city. And the chief of police believed that it was very
likely the murderer would make a second attempt upon the
life of his victim, and that he was probably hiding some-
where in the vicinity.
As soon as the patient had begun to recover, the chief
of police visited her in company with Dr. Lange. The three
discussed the steps to be taken, but none seemed to them
quite hopeful of results. Giuseppa herself finally made a
suggestion which pleased both men very much. " My dear
doctor," she said, " has permitted me to go out next week.
If he does not think it will harm me, I might attend the last
ball of the carnival as my first appearance in public again.
It would interest me to show myself for the first time in
the place where my misfortunes began. We will take care
that it is known throughout the city that I am to attend
the ball. If the chevalier is still here, I am firmly convinced
that he will attempt to approach me in some disguise. He
will be careful not to speak to me, or to betray himself in
any way. But I know that he will not give over his at-
tempt upon my life, and I would know him among a thou-
sand. His height, his figure, and, above all, his eyes, would
make him known to me. What do you think of this, gen-
tlemen?"
" The plan is not a bad one," said the chief of police.
" I am willing to wager that when he hears you are to be
at the ball, he will appear there himself, if only to see you
again and to give his anger fresh nourishment. I would
recommend that you do not wear a mask. That will en-
able him to recognize you the more quickly, and the sooner
to fall into our trap. I will dress a couple of my strongest
men in dominos, and they shall remain near you the entire
evening. At a sign from you they will arrest the old fox."
Babette, the signora's maid, had been in the room during
this conversation. When she heard that her lady was mak-
ing plans to discover the murderer or his accomplices, she
believed it to be her duty to help as much as she could.
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She waited for the chief of police as he was leaving the
house, and told him that she had confided a circumstance to
Dr. Lange, to which he did not seem to attach much im-
portance, although it seemed worthy of notice to her.
" Nothing is unimportant for the police," answered the
director. " If you know anything, tell me what it is."
" I believe my signora is too discreet, and would not tell
it herself. But when she had been stabbed and fainted in
my arms, her last sigh was Bolnau."
"What?" exclaimed the chief of police angrily. "And
they have not told me of this yet ? This is very important.
Are you sure you heard aright ? Bolnau ? "
" On my honor ! " replied the girl, laying her hands on
her heart. " Bolnau was the name she said, and with such
an expression of grief that I believe it must be the name of
the murderer. But please, sir, do not betray me ! "
The chief of police believed on principle that no man,
however respectable he might be, was too good to commit
a crime. Councilor Bolnau (he knew of no one else of this
name in the city) was known to him as a man of absolute
probity and of well-regulated life. But were there not in-
stances of people of just this character discovered later to
be secret criminals ? Might not this man be in league with
the notorious Chevalier de Planto? In such musings he
continued on his way, and as he neared Broad Street it
suddenly occurred to him that this was the hour when the
councilor was wont to take his morning promenade. The
chief decided it was a very good chance to look into the
matter a little. As he turned the corner he saw the coun-
cilor coming down the street, bowing to the right and to
the left, stopping to chat and laugh every few steps, a
picture of cheerfulness and good nature. He might have
been about fifty steps from the head of police when he
caught sight of him, grew pale, and turned as if about to
go down a side street. " Suspicious, most suspicious ! "
thought the chief, calling out the other's name as if he had
just seen him. The councilor was the picture of misery.
He tried to smile and to utter a jovial " Bonjour" but his
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Wilhelm Hauff
eyes rolled uneasily, his knees trembled and his teeth chat-
tered.
" Well, well, what a stranger you are ! I haven't seen
you pass my window for several days. Aren't you well?
You are so pale." The chief spoke cheerfully, but he
glanced sharply at the other's face.
" Oh, no, it was just a little chill I haven't been quite
well for several days, but I think that I am all right now."
" Indeed ! You have not been well ? " continued the head
of police. " I should not have thought it ! I seem to re-
member to have seen you at the last ball in excellent
spirits."
11 Yes, indeed ! But the very following day I had to go
to bed with one of my attacks. But I am quite well again
now."
"Well, in that case you will be certain to attend the
coming ball. It is to be the last of the season, and they
say it will be unusually brilliant. I hope to meet you there,
councilor; and until then, adieu ! "
IX
" I WILL not fail to be there ! " called out the councilor
with a very depressed expression. " He suspects me ! " he
thought to himself. " He has heard of that last word be-
fore she fainted. They say she is almost well again; but
what does that matter to the police authorities when they
once suspect you ? Could he have been spying upon me ?
Perhaps they are following me and reporting to him every-
thing that I say or do ? Merciful Heaven ! to think that /
should ever have come to be a dangerous individual ! "
Thus reasoned the unfortunate Bolnau, his fear increas-
ing as he thought over the suspicious question about the
next ball. " He thinks probably that I would not dare to
approach the young lady because of a guilty conscience.
But I will go! I will not let him nourish this suspicion.
But suppose I really should tremble and become excited
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when I see her? He would then believe that it was the
pangs of remorse ! " He tortured himself with these ques-
tionings for days, trying in vain to nerve himself to face
the danger. He ordered a handsome Oriental costume, the
dress of the Pasha of Janina. He put it on every day,
and standing in front of a large mirror, he endeavored to
school his features until he should look as if he were quite
at home in this new garb. He made a lay figure out of his
dressing-gown and sat it on the sofa; this was to represent
Signora Bianetti. He bowed politely before her and said,
" I am most delighted to see that you are quite well again."
On the third day he had progressed sufficiently to say his
lesson without trembling. Then he attempted something
still more difficult. He offered the lady a plate with bon-
bons and punch, taking a glass of water to practice on. At
first the dishes rattled in his trembling hand, but he soon
learned to hold them more steadily, and to remark quite
cheerily, " My dear signora, may I not offer you some
slight refreshment ? " He was getting along finely. No
mortal man should see him tremble ! He was going to the
ball, be he ever so fearful !
Dr. Lange would not yield to anyone else the pleasure of
escorting his recovered patient upon her first appearance in
public. He accompanied her to the ball, and seemed to
feel quite proud of his position as official escort of the
beautiful girl who was now an object of great interest to all
the townspeople. The inhabitants of B. are a strange sort ;
but perhaps they are not so very different from people else-
where, after all ! In the first days of the exciting affair one
could hear nothing* but evil said of the singer, from the
most aristocratic drawing-rooms down to the meanest beer-
gardens. But when men of position had taken up the
cudgels in her behalf, when leaders of society began to
praise her, the tide turned in her favor, and the entire city
seemed to look upon it as a cause for public rejoicing that
she had recovered again. When she entered the ballroom,
the entire company appeared to have been waiting to make
her the queen of the occasion. They cheered and clapped
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Wilhelm Hauff
at her entrance, crowded about her, and had so much that
was complimentary to say to her that there was sufficient
for some portion to fall on the head of Dr. Lange, who was
much praised for having so cleverly brought her out of
danger.
The singer was very happy over all this attention and
applause. The joy of it almost made her forget the seri-
ous reason for her appearance that evening. But the four
sturdily built dominos who were constantly near her, and
the doctor's questions as to whether she had not already
caught sight of the chevalier's gray eyes, reminded her of
the business of the evening. She herself, and Dr. Lange
also, had noticed that a tall, gaunt Turk (in B. they called
it the costume of AH Baba) was apparently endeavoring to
approach her and to remain at her side. Whenever the
movement of the crowd separated them, he would edge
his way up to her again. The singer nudged the doctor
and glanced toward the pasha. The doctor followed her
glance, and said, " I've been noticing him for some time,"
as the Turk approached with hesitating steps. The singer
held her escort's arm closer. Now he was quite near. Lit-
tle gray eyes peeped out from his mask, and a hollow voice
said : " Honored signora, I am most delighted to see you
once more in full possession of your health." The singer
started, trembled, and drew back. This seemed to alarm
the man, and he disappeared again in the crowd. " Was
that he? " asked the doctor. " Try to be strong; you know
how important it is that we should be able to discover
him. Do you think this is he ? "
" I am not quite certain yet," she answered. " But I
seem to recognize his eyes."
Dr. Lange gave the four dominos the order to watch
the pasha sharply. He himself walked on through the
hall with his lady. But they had not gone very far before
they noticed the Turk evidently following them at a little
distance.
Dr. Lange and his companion stepped to the buffet to
take some refreshments. Scarce had they halted when the
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Turk was at their side. He was holding a plate with a
glass of punch and some bonbons on it; his eyes glistened;
the glass danced about on the shaking plate. Now he is
at her side and holds the plate out to her with the words,
" My dear signora, may I not offer you some slight re-
freshment?"
The singer looked at him in alarm, pushed back the plate,
and cried: "It is he, it is he! That terrible man! He is
trying to poison me ! "
The Pasha of Janina stood perfectly motionless he
seemed to have given up all idea of resistance. Without a
word he allowed himself to be led away by the four sturdy
dominos.
At the same moment the doctor felt somebody pulling
at his cloak from behind. He turned and saw the little
humpbacked lackey from the Hotel de Portugal standing
pale and trembling before him. " For the love of God,
doctor, won't you please come with me to No. 53? The
devil is just about to fetch the French gentleman."
" What nonsense is this ? " asked the doctor angrily, for
he was just about to follow the arrested man to the police
station. " What does it matter to me if the devil fetches
him?"
" But please, honored doctor," cried the little man, almost
weeping, " I thought you might possibly save him. Your
honor is court physician, and usually goes to the sick people
in the hotels."
Dr. Lange swallowed a curse, for he saw that he would
not be able to avoid this call. He motioned to Boloni,
who was standing near them, put the singer in his charge,
and hurried off to the hotel with the little lackey.
X
IT was quiet and deserted in the great hotel. Midnight
had passed, and the lamps in the halls and on the stairways
burned dimly. Dr. Lange had an uncanny sensation as
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Wilhelm Hauff
he followed the little man upstairs to the solitary invalid.
The lackey opened the door, the doctor entered, and almost
sank to his knees in his horror. Here lay, or rather sat, in
the bed the very same sort of being who had for several
days been occupying his waking and sleeping thoughts.
It was a tall, gaunt, elderly man with a pointed white night-
cap drawn over his forehead. Under the nightcap a large,
sharp nose rose out of a thin yellow-brown face. From his
color one might have thought the man already dead, had
not a pair of piercing gray eyes given him a look of terrify-
ing life. His long, thin fingers were scratching at the bed
covering, while he laughed incessantly, a hoarse, frightful
laugh.
" Look, he is digging his own grave ! " whispered the
little lackey, waking the doctor out of his dazed staring at
the sick man. It was just thus that he had imagined the
Chevalier de Planto would look: this piercing gray eye,
these repulsive features, this thin, bony figure all just as
the singer had described him. But then he controlled him-
self had he not just seen the chevalier arrested? Might
not another man have gray eyes? And should he be sur-
prised if a sick man was thin and pale ? The doctor laughed
at himself and stepped to the bedside. But in all his long
years of practice he had never felt such fear, such repulsion
at any sick bed as he did here, when he took the cold,
clammy hand in his.
" This stupid fellow," cried the sick man with a weak,
hoarse voice, mingling French, bad Italian, and broken
German together in his speech " this stupid fellow has
brought me a doctor, I do believe. You will pardon him,
sir. I have never thought much of your art. The only
thing that can help me are the baths of Genoa. I have told
this little beast to order post-horses for me. I will set out
to-night."
" He'll set out," murmured the little lackey ; " he'll set
out with six coal-black steeds, but it won't be to Genoa he
goes. He's going to that place where there is weeping and
gnashing of teeth." The doctor saw that there was very
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little to do here. He recognized the symptoms of ap-
proaching death in the sick man's eyes and in his uneasi-
ness. He contented himself, therefore, with the command
to the patient to lie as quiet as possible, and promised him
a soothing draught.
The sick man laughed grimly. " Lie quiet ? " he an-
swered. " When I lie still, I can't breathe. I must sit up !
I must sit in my carriage! I must get away from here!
Dog, have you ordered my horses, and packed my lug-
gage?"
" Oh, dear Lord above ! " groaned the little man. " Here
he is thinking about his luggage. It'll be a heavy sackful
of sins that he takes with him. It wouldn't be possible to
tell you all the godless speeches and curses I have heard
him utter."
The physician took the sick man's hand again. " Will
you not trust me a little ? " he said. " My art may be able
to help you, after all. Your servant tells me that you have
an old wound which has opened again. Will you not let
me examine it ? "
The sick man complied with grumblings. The physician
took off a badly made bandage, and found a stab wound
near the heart! Remarkable to relate, the wound was of
the same size and character, and almost exactly in the same
place as the singer's wound had been.
" But this is a fresh wound, a stab ! " cried the doctor,
looking at the patient with distrust. " Where did you get
this wound ? "
"You think I stabbed myself? Or that I have been
dueling? No, by all the devils! I had a dagger in my
breast pocket, and I scratched myself a little in falling
downstairs."
" Scratched himself a little? " thought Lange. " He will
die of this wound."
He had prepared some lemonade, and held it out to the
sick man. The latter seemed to feel refreshed after drink-
ing. He lay still for a few moments ; then, seeing that sev-
eral drops had fallen on the coverlet, he began to curse
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Wilhelm Hauff
and demanded a handkerchief. The lackey ran to a chest,
opened it and brought out a handkerchief. A sudden ter-
rible suspicion arose in Dr. Lange's mind. The handker-
chief was of the same material and color as the one which
had been found in the singer's room. The little servant
was about to hand the cloth to the sick man when the latter
pushed it away, and cried : " To the devil with you, little
beast ! How often must I tell you to put eau de heliotrope
on it ? " The servant took out a little bottle and sprinkled
some drops upon the cloth. It was the same perfume that
the other handkerchief had exhaled.
Dr. Lange trembled in every limb. There was no longer
any doubt this man here was the would-be murderer of the
singer Bianetti the Chevalier de Planto! It was a help-
less and dying man that he saw before him, but the doctor
felt as if he might at any moment spring from his bed and
clutch at his throat. He could not endure to remain an
instant longer in the room with this terrible man. As he
took up his hat, the little lackey clutched at his coat and
groaned : " Oh, your honor, don't leave me alone with him !
I should die of fright if he were to die now and walk about
like a ghost in his flannel clothes and his nightcap. For
the love of God, don't leave me."
The sick man grinned alarmingly, and laughed and
cursed all together. The fright of the little servant seemed
to amuse him. He put one long, thin leg out of the bed
and waved his claw-like hands in the air. The doctor could
endure it no longer. The madness of the other seemed to
pass over into his own soul. He pushed back the little
lackey and rushed from the room. Even at the street door
below he could still hear the murderer's horrible laugh.
The following morning a carriage stopped before the
Hotel de Portugal. A veiled lady and two elderly gentle-
men dismounted from it and entered the house. " It is a
strange chance that he should have wounded himself so
severely in falling downstairs that he could not flee from
the city. And a still stranger chance that it was just you,
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Lange, that was called to him," remarked one of the gentle-
men.
" It was, indeed/' said the veiled lady. " But did you
not think it was also a strange chance about the handker-
chiefs ? One of them he left in my room, and then to think
that he should have asked for another in the very moment
that the doctor was with him."
" That is fate ! " said the other gentleman. " It is as if
it were ordained that it should happen so. But I had almost
forgotten something in all this excitement. How about the
pasha who was arrested? Signora must have been mis-
taken. Did you release him again? Who was the poor
devil?"
" Quite the contrary ! " said the first gentleman. " I am
convinced that this man is an accomplice of the murderer.
I have had my eye on him for some time. I have ordered
him to be brought here. I want to confront him with the
villain upstairs."
" An accomplice ? Impossible ! " cried the lady.
" Not at all," said the gentleman with a slight smile.
" We know a good deal more than we are willing to say
just yet. But here we are at No. 53. Mademoiselle, will
you have the kindness to step in here to No. 54 for the
time being? Signor Boloni has permitted us to use his
room as long as we need it. When I am ready to question
you I will send for you."
We need not tell the reader that these three persons were
the singer, the doctor, and the head of police. They came
to accuse the Chevalier de Planto of an attempt at murder.
The chief and the physician entered No. 53. The sick man
sat up in bed just as the doctor had seen him the night
before. In the light of day his features seemed still more
haggard, the expression of his eye still more terrible. He
looked at the doctor, then at his companion, with a glance
which seemed already that of a dying man. He seemed
trying to find out what all this could mean, for he already
had one other visitor in his room, a young attorney with
red cheeks and bright eyes. The latter had taken a place
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Wilhelm Hauff
at a table, arranged a pile of white paper before him, and
held a long pen ready in his hand.
" Beast, what do these gentlemen wish here ? " cried the
sick man in a weak voice to his little servant. " You know
I do not receive visitors."
The chief of police stepped to the bed, looked firmly at
the sick man, and said with emphasis, " Chevalier de
Planto!"
" Qui vive? " cried the sick man, raising his head in
military salute.
" You are the Chevalier de Planto? "
The gray eyes gleamed, he threw piercing glances about
the room, laughed mockingly, and shook his head as he
replied, " The chevalier is long since dead."
" And who are you ? I command you to answer, in the
name of the king."
The dying man laughed : " My name is Lorier. Beast,
show the gentleman my passport."
" It will not be necessary. Do you recognize this hand-
kerchief?"
"Why should I not recognize it? You have just taken
it from the chair there. But why do you annoy me with
these questions ? "
"If you will look down at your left hand," said the chief,
" you will see that you are holding your own handkerchief.
This one was found in the house of a certain Giuseppa
Bianetti."
The sick man threw an angry look at his visitors. He
clenched his fists and gnashed his teeth, but he would not
speak another word. The chief of police motioned to the
doctor. The latter left the room and returned in an instant
with the singer, Signer Boloni, and the Ambassador Baron
Martinow.
" Baron Martinow ! " the chief turned to the ambassador,
" do you recognize this man for the person you knew in
Paris under the name of the Chevalier de Planto ? "
" I do," replied the baron. " And I am ready to repeat
what I have already told the police about him."
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" Giuseppa Bianetti, is this the man who took you from
your stepfather's home, who brought you into his house in
Paris, and whom you accuse of the attempt to murder
you?"
The singer trembled as she looked on the terrible man,
but before she could answer, he himself spared her all fur-
ther confession. He raised himself still higher in his bed,
the top of his woolen nightcap seemed to rise up of itself,
his arms were so stiff that he could scarcely move them,
but his fingers caught at the air like greedy claws. His
voice was scarcely more than a hoarse whisper.
" Are you come to visit me, Seppa ? That is nice of you.
I know that you are delighted to see me looking like this.
I am sorry, indeed, that I did not reach your heart, for I
would gladly have spared you the pain of seeing your uncle
mocked thus by these beasts ! "
" What more witness do we need ? " interrupted the chief.
" Attorney, you will please write out a warrant of arrest
for "
" What would you do ? " cried the doctor. " Don't you
see his death is very near? He will not live half an hour
longer. If you have any more questions to ask him, do it
at once."
The chief ordered a servant to tell the gendarmes wait-
ing downstairs that they were to bring up their captive.
The sick man sank down more and more in his pillows.
His eye was breaking, but rage and anger still held it fixed
on the trembling girl.
" Seppa," he whispered again. " You have ruined me ;
it was for that that you deserved death. You have ruined
your father; they sent him to prison because he had sold
you for money. He employed me to kill you I regret in-
deed that my hands trembled. Cursed be these hands that
can no longer strike true ! " The terrible curses which he
continued to pour out over himself and Giuseppa were inter-
rupted by new arrivals. Two gendarmes brought in a man
in Turkish garb the unfortunate Pasha of Janina. Un-
der the turban was the utterly miserable face of Councilor
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Wilhelm Hauff
Bolnau! The entire company was struck dumb with as-
tonishment at this apparition. The musician Boloni seemed
particularly startled ; he grew first red, then pale, and turned
his head away.
" Chevalier de Planto," said the chief, " do you know
this man ? "
The sick man had closed his eyes. He opened them with
difficulty and said, " Send him to the devil ! I never saw
him before."
The Turk looked at those about him with an expression
of utter despair. " I knew that it would happen thus," he
said with tears in his voice. " I have been afraid of this.
Mademoiselle Bianetti, how could you bring an innocent
man into all this misery ? "
" But what is the matter with the gentleman ? " asked
the singer. " I do not know him at all. What has he done,
sir?"
The chief answered in great solemnity : " Signora, the
Court of Justice knows no partiality ! You must know this
gentleman; it is Councilor Bolnau. Your own servant has
confessed that when you were stabbed, you called upon his
name."
The pasha groaned : " Yes, indeed, my honest name at
such a moment ! "
The singer was much astonished. A deep flush colored
her beautiful face, she caught the hand of . her lover and
exclaimed : " Carlo, we must speak now ! Yes, sir, I did
mention this name, so dear to me, but it was not that gen-
tleman I meant it was "
" It was I ! " exclaimed the musician, stepping forward.
" My name, if my dear father there will allow me, is Carl
Bolnau."
" Carl ! Musician ! American ! " cried the Turk, seizing
him in his arms. " That is the first sensible word you ever
said. You have saved me in my hour of need."
" If this is the case," said the chief of police, " then you
are free, and our business here is only with this Chevalier de
Planto." He turned to the bed, but the physician was al-
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German Mystery Stories
ready standing there, holding the hand of the murderer in
his own. He now laid it gravely back on to the coverlet
and closed the staring eyes. " He has gone before a higher
judge," he said solemnly.
They walked softly from the room, and entered the mu-
sician's apartment. The singer buried her face on her
lover's breast, and her tears, the last she should ever weep
over her unfortunate fate, flowed freely. The pasha walked
about the group, as if struggling for some important de-
cision. He whispered to the doctor, then approached the
young couple.
" My dearest mademoiselle," he said, " I have had much
to suffer on your account. As you have uttered my name
at such an important moment, I must beg you to take it for
your own. You scorned the refreshment I offered you
yesterday. But to-day I hope you will not refuse me
when I present to you this musical son of mine, and ask
you to marry him."
She did not refuse this time, but caught his hand and
kissed it fervently. The young musician clasped her in
his arms again, and seemed to have quite forgotten his
usual tragical pathos. The councilor took the doctor's hand
and said : " Would we have thought, Lange, that all this
would happen the day you told me to count the windows
in the Palace when you said to me, ' Her last word was
Bolnau'?"
" Well, and what more do you want ? " replied the physi-
cian, laughing. " It was all for the best that I told you this
circumstance then. For who knows whether it would have
all come about like this without the singer's last word ? "
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Ernest Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann
The Deserted House
*T*HEY were all agreed in the belief that the actual facts
of life are often far more wonderful than the inven-
tion of even the liveliest imagination can be.
" It seems to me," spoke Lelio, " that history gives proof
sufficient of this. And that is why the so-called historical
romances seem so repulsive and tasteless to us, those stories
wherein the author mingles the foolish fancies of his meager
brain with the deeds of the great powers of the universe."
Franz took the word. " It is the deep reality of the in-
scrutable secrets surrounding us that oppresses us with a
might wherein we recognize the Spirit that rules, the Spirit
out of which our being springs." " Alas," said Lelio, " it
is the most terrible result of the fall of man, that we have
lost the power of recognizing the eternal verities."
" Many are called, but few are chosen," broke in Franz.
" Do you not believe that an understanding of the wonders
of our existence is given to some of us in the form of an-
other sense? But if you would allow me to drag the con-
versation up from these dark regions where we are in dan-
ger of losing our path altogether up into the brightness of
light-hearted merriment, I would like to make the scurrilous
suggestion that those mortals to whom this gift of seeing
the Unseen has been given remind me of bats. You know
the learned anatomist Spallanzani has discovered a sixth
sense in these little animals which can do not only the
entire work of the other senses, but work of its own
besides."
" Oho," laughed Edward, " according to that, the bats
would be the only natural-born clairvoyants. But I know
some one who possesses that gift of insight, of which you
German Mystery Stories
were speaking, in a remarkable degree. Because of it he
will often follow for days some unknown person who has
happened to attract his attention by an oddity in manner,
appearance, or garb; he will ponder to melancholy over
some trifling incident, some lightly told story ; he will com-
bine the antipodes and raise up relationships in his imag-
ination which are unknown to everyone else."
" Wait a bit," cried Lelio. " It is our Theodore of whom
you are speaking now. And it looks to me as if he were
having some weird vision at this very moment. See how
strangely he gazes out into the distance."
Theodore had been sitting in silence up to this moment.
Now he spoke : " If my glances are strange it is because
they reflect the strange things that were called up before my
mental vision by your conversation, the memories of a most
remarkable adventure "
" Oh, tell it to us," interrupted his friends.
"Gladly," continued Theodore. "But first, let me set
right a slight confusion in your ideas on the subject of the
mysterious. You appear to confound what is merely odd
and unusual with what is really mysterious or marvelous,
that which surpasses comprehension or belief. The odd
and the unusual, it is true, spring often from the truly
marvelous, and the twigs and flowers hide the parent stem
from our eyes. Both the odd and the unusual and the truly
marvelous are mingled in the adventure which I am about
to narrate to you, mingled in a manner which is striking
and even awesome." With these words Theodore drew
from his pocket a notebook in which, as his friends knew,
he had written down the impressions of his late journey-
ings. Refreshing his memory by a look at its pages now
and then, he narrated the following story.
You know already that I spent the greater part of last
summer in X . The many old friends and acquaint-
ances I found there, the free, jovial life, the manifold artis-
tic and intellectual interests all these combined to keep
me in that city. I was happy as never before, and found
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Ernest Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann
rich nourishment for my old fondness for wandering alone
through the streets, stopping to enjoy every picture in the
shop windows, every placard on the walls, or watching the
passers-by and choosing some one or the other of them to
cast his horoscope secretly to myself.
There is one broad avenue leading to the Gate and
lined with handsome buildings of all descriptions, which is
the meeting place of the rich and fashionable world. The
shops which occupy the ground floor of the tall palaces are
devoted to the trade in articles of luxury, and the apart-
ments above are the dwellings of people of wealth and
position. The aristocratic hotels are to be found in this
avenue, the palaces of the foreign ambassadors are there,
and you can easily imagine that such a street would be the
center of the city's life and gayety.
I had wandered through the avenue several times, when
one day my attention was caught by a house which con-
trasted strangely with the others surrounding it. Picture
to yourselves a low building but four windows broad,
crowded in between two tall, handsome structures. Its one
upper story was little higher than the tops of the ground-
floor windows of its neighbors, its roof was dilapidated, its
windows patched with paper, its discolored walls spoke of
years of neglect. You can imagine how strange such a
house must have looked in this street of wealth and fashion.
Looking at it more attentively I perceived that the windows
of the upper story were tightly closed and curtained, and
that a wall had been built to hide the windows of the ground
floor. The entrance gate, a little to one side, served also
as a doorway for the building, but I could find no sign of
latch, lock, or even a bell on this gate. I was convinced
that the house must be unoccupied, for at whatever hour of
the day I happened to be passing I had never seen the
faintest signs of life about it. An unoccupied house in this
avenue was indeed an odd sight. But I explained the
phenomenon to myself by saying that the owner was doubt-
less absent upon a long journey, or living upon his country
estates, and that he perhaps did not wish to sell or rent the
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German Mystery Stories
property, preferring to keep it for his own use in the
eventuality of a visit to the city.
You all, the good comrades of my youth, know that I
have been prone to consider myself a sort of clairvoyant,
claiming to have glimpses of a strange world of wonders,
a world which you, with your hard common sense, would
attempt to deny or laugh away. I confess that I have often
lost myself in mysteries which after all turned out to be no
mysteries at all. And it looked at first as if this was to
happen to me in the matter of the deserted house, that
strange house which drew my steps and my thoughts to
itself with a power that surprised me. But the point of
my story will prove to you that I am right in asserting
that I know more than you do. Listen now to what I am
about to tell you.
One day, at the hour in which the fashionable world is
accustomed to promenade up and down the avenue, I stood
as usual before the deserted house, lost in thought. Sud-
denly I felt, without looking up, that some one had stopped
beside me, fixing his eyes on me. It was Count P., whom
I had found much in sympathy with many of my imag-
inings, and I knew that he also must have been deeply
interested in the mystery of this house. It surprised me
not a little, therefore, that he should smile ironically when I
spoke of the strange impression that this deserted dwelling,
here in the gay heart of the town, had made upon me. But
I soon discovered the reason for his irony. Count P. had
gone much farther than myself in his imaginings concern-
ing the house. He had constructed for himself a com-
plete history of the old building, a story weird enough to
have been born in the fancy of a true poet. It would give
me great pleasure to relate this story to you, but the events
which happened to me in this connection are so interesting
that I feel I must proceed with the narration of them at
once.
When the count had completed his story to his own satis-
faction, imagine his feelings on learning one day that the
old house contained nothing more mvsterious than a cake
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Ernest Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann
bakery belonging to the pastry cook whose handsome shop
adjoined the old structure. The windows of the ground
floor were walled up to give protection to the ovens, and the
heavy curtains of the upper story were to keep the sunlight
from the wares laid out there. When the count informed
me of this I felt as if a bucket of cold water had been
suddenly thrown over me. The demon who is the enemy
of all poets caught the dreamer by the nose and tweaked
him painfully.
And yet, in spite of this prosaic explanation, I could not
resist stopping before the deserted house whenever I passed
it, and gentle tremors rippled through my veins as vague
visions arose of what might be hidden there. I could
not believe in this story of the cake and candy factory.
Through some strange freak of the imagination I felt as
a child feels when some fairy tale has been told it to con-
ceal the truth it suspects. I scolded myself for a silly fool *
the house remained unaltered in its appearance, and the
visions faded in my brain, until one day a chance incident
woke them to life again.
I was wandering through the avenue as usual, and as I
passed the deserted house I could not resist a hasty glance
at its close-curtained upper windows. But as I looked at
it, the curtain on the last window near the pastry shop
began to move. A hand, an arm, came out from between
its folds. I took my opera glass from my pocket and saw
a beautifully formed woman's hand, on the little finger of
which a large diamond sparkled in unusual brilliancy ; a rich
bracelet glittered on the white, rounded arm. The hand set
a tall, oddly formed crystal bottle on the window ledge and
disappeared again behind the curtain.
I stopped as if frozen to stone; a weirdly pleasurable sen-
sation, mingled with awe, streamed through my being with
the warmth of an electric current. I stared up at the mys-
terious window and a sigh of longing arose from the very
depths of my heart. When I came to myself again, I was
angered to find that I was surrounded by a crowd which
stood gazing up at the window with curious faces. I stole
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German Mystery Stories
away inconspicuously, and the demon of all things prosaic
whispered to me that what I had just seen was the rich
pastry cook's wife, in her Sunday adornment, placing an
empty bottle, used for rose-water or the like, on the window
sill. Nothing very weird about this.
Suddenly a most sensible thought came to me. I turned
and entered the shining, mirror-walled shop of the pastry
cook. Blowing the steaming foam from my cup of choco-
late, I remarked : " You have a very useful addition to your
establishment next door." The man leaned over his counter
and looked at me with a questioning smile, as if he did not
understand me. I repeated that in my opinion he had been
very clever to set up his bakery in the neighboring house,
although the deserted appearance of the building was a
strange sight in its contrasting surroundings. " Why, sir,"
began the pastry cook, " who told you that the house
next door belongs to us? Unfortunately every attempt
on our part to acquire it has been in vain, and I fancy it
is all the better so, for there is something queer about the
place."
You can imagine, dear friends, how interested I became
upon hearing these words, and that I begged the man to
tell me more about the house.
" I do not know anything very definite, sir," he said.
" All that we know for a certainty is that the house belongs
to the Countess S., who lives on her estates and has not
been to the city for years. This house, so they tell me,
stood in its present shape before any of the handsome build-
ings were raised which are now the pride of our avenue,
and in all these years there has been nothing done to it
except to keep it from actual decay. Two living creatures
alone dwell there, an aged misanthrope of a steward and
his melancholy dog, which occasionally howls at the moon
from the back courtyard. According to the general story
the deserted house is haunted. In very truth my brother,
who is the owner of this shop, and myself have often, when
our business kept us awake during the silence of the night,
lieard strange sounds from the other side of the wall
136
Ernest Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann
There was a rumbling and a scraping that frightened us
both. And not very long ago we heard one night a strange
singing which I could not describe to you. It was evi-
dently the voice of an old woman, but the tones were so
sharp and clear, and ran up to the top of the scale in
cadences and long trills, the like of which I have never
heard before, although I have heard many singers in many
lands. It seemed to be a French song, but I am not quite
sure of that, for I could not listen long to the mad, ghostly
singing, it made the hair stand erect on my head. And at
times, after the street noises are quiet, we can hear deep
sighs, and sometimes a mad laugh, which seem to come out
of the earth. But if you lay your ear to the wall in our
back room, you can hear that the noises come from the
house next door." He led me into the back room and
pointed through the window. " And do you see that iron
chimney coming out of the wall there ? It smokes so heav-
ily sometimes, even in summer when there are no fires used,
that my brother has often quarreled with the old steward
about it, fearing danger. But the old man excuses himself
by saying that he was cooking his food. Heaven knows
what the queer creature may eat, for often, when the pipe
is smoking heavily, a strange and queer smell can be smelled
all over the house."
The glass doors of the shop creaked in opening. The
pastry cook hurried into the front room, and when he had
nodded to the figure now entering he threw a meaning
glance at me. I understood him perfectly. Who else could
this strange guest be, but the steward who had charge of
the mysterious house! Imagine a thin little man with a
face the color of a mummy, with a sharp nose, tight-set
lips, green cat's eyes, and a crazy smile; his hair dressed
in the old-fashioned style with a high toupet and a bag
at the back, and heavily powdered. He wore a faded old
brown coat which was carefully brushed, gray stockings,
and broad, flat-toed shoes with buckles. And imagine fur-
ther, that in spite of his meagerness this little person is
robustly built, with huge fists and long, strong fingers, and
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German Mystery Stories
that he walks to the shop counter with a strong, firm step,
smiling his imbecile smile, and whining out : " A couple of
candied oranges a couple of macaroons a couple of
sugared chestnuts " Picture all this to yourself and judge
whether I had not sufficient cause to imagine a mystery
here.
The pastry cook gathered up the wares the old man had
demanded. " Weigh it out, weigh it out, honored neigh-
bor," moaned the strange man, as he drew out a little leath-
ern bag and sought in it for his money. I noticed that he
paid for his purchase in worn old coins, some of which
were no longer in use. He seemed very unhappy and mur-
mured : " Sweet sweet it must all be sweet ! Well, let it
be ! The devil has pure honey for his bride pure honey ! "
The pastry cook smiled at me and then spoke to the old
man. " You do not seem to be quite well. Yes, yes, old
age, old age ! It takes the strength from our limbs." The
old man's expression did not change, but his voice went
up : " Old age ? Old age ? Lose strength ? Grow weak ?
Oho ! " And with this he clapped his hands together un-
til the joints cracked, and sprang high up into the air until
the entire shop trembled and the glass vessels on the walls
and counters rattled and shook. But in the same moment
a hideous screaming was heard; the old man had stepped
on his black dog, which, creeping in behind him, had laid
itself at his feet on the floor. " Devilish beast dog of
hell ! " groaned the old man in his former miserable tone,
opening his bag and giving the dog a large macaroon.
The dog, which had burst out into a cry of distress that
was truly human, was quiet at once, sat down on its
haunches, and gnawed at the macaroon like a squirrel.
When it had finished its tidbit, the old man had also fin-
ished the packing up and putting away of his purchases.
" Good night, honored neighbor," he spoke, taking the hand
of the pastry cook and pressing it until the latter cried aloud
in pain. " The weak old man wishes you a good night,
most honorable Sir Neighbor," he repeated, and then walked
from the shop, followed closely by his black dog. The old
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Ernest Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann
man did not seem to have noticed me at all. I was quite
dumfoundered in my astonishment.
" There, you see," began the pastry cook. " This is the
way he acts when he comes in here, two or three times a
month, it is. But I can get nothing out of him except the
fact that he was a former valet of Count S., that he is now
in charge of this house here, and that every day for many
years now he expects the arrival of his master's family.
My brother spoke to him one day about the strange noises
at night ; but he answered calmly, ' Yes, people say the
ghosts walk about in the house. But do not believe it, for
it is not true." The hour was now come when fashion
demanded that the elegant world of the city should as-
semble in this attractive shop. The doors opened inces-
santly, the place was thronged, and I could ask no further
questions.
This much I knew, that Count P.'s information about the
ownership and the use of the house were not correct ; also,
that the old steward, in spite of his denial, was not living
alone there, and that some mystery was hidden behind its-
discolored walls. How could I combine the story of the
strange and grewsome singing with the appearance of the
beautiful arm at the window? That arm could not be part
of the wrinkled body of an old woman; the singing, ac-
cording to the pastry cook's story, could not come from
the throat of a blooming and youthful maiden. I decided
in favor of the arm, as it was easy to explain to myself
that some trick of acoustics had made the voice sound
sharp and old, or that it had appeared so only in the pastry
cook's fear-distorted imagination. Then I thought of the
smoke, the strange odors, the oddly formed crystal bottle
that I had seen, and soon the vision of a beautiful crea-
ture held enthralled by fatal magic stood as if alive before
my mental vision. The old man became a wizard who,
perhaps quite independently of the family he served, had
set up his devil's kitchen in the deserted house. My im-
agination had begun to work, and in my dreams that night
I saw clearly the hand with the sparkling diamond on its
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German Mystery Stories
finger, the arm with the shining bracelet. From out thin,
gray mists there appeared a sweet face with sadly implor-
ing blue eyes, then the entire exquisite figure of a beautiful
girl. And I saw that what I had thought was mist was the
fine steam flowing out in circles from a crystal bottle held
in the hands of the vision.
" Oh, fairest creature of my dreams," I cried in rapture.
" Reveal to me where thou art, what it is that enthralls
thee. Ah, I know it! It is black magic that holds thee
captive thou art the unhappy slave of that malicious devil
who wanders about brown-clad and bewigged in pastry
shops, scattering their wares with his unholy springing,
and feeding his demon dog on macaroons, after they have
howled out a Satanic measure in five-eight time. Oh, I
know it all, thou fair and charming vision. The diamond
is the reflection of the fire of thy heart. But that bracelet
about thine arm is a link of the chain which the brown-clad
one says is a magnetic chain. Do not believe it, O glori-
ous one ! See how it shines in the blue fire from the retort.
One moment more and thou art free. And now, O maiden,
open thy rosebud mouth and tell me " In this moment a
gnarled fist leaped over my shoulder and clutched at the
crystal bottle, which sprang into a thousand pieces in the
air. With a faint, sad moan, the charming vision faded
into the blackness of the night.
When morning came to put an end to my dreaming I
hurried to the avenue and placed myself before the deserted
house. Heavy blinds were drawn before the upper win-
dows. The street was still quite empty, and I stepped close
to the windows of the ground floor and listened and lis-
tened; but I heard no sound. The house was as quiet as the
grave. The business of the day began, the passers-by be-
came more numerous, and I was obliged to go on. I will
not weary you with the recital of how for many days I
crept about the house at that hour, but without discovering
anything of interest. None of my questionings could re-
veal anything to me, and the beautiful picture of my vision
began finally to pale and fade away.
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Ernest Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann
At last as I passed, late one evening, I saw that the door
of the deserted house was half open and the brown-clad old
man was peeping out. I stepped quickly to his side with
a sudden idea. " Does not Councilor Binder live in this
house?" Thus I asked the old man, pushing him before
me as I entered the dimly lighted vestibule. The guardian
of the old house looked at me with his piercing eyes, and
answered in gentle, slow tones : " No, he does not live here,
he never has lived here, he never will live here, he does
not live anywhere on this avenue. But people say the
ghosts walk about in this house. Yet I can assure you
that it is not true. It is a quiet, a pretty house, and to-
morrow the gracious Countess S. will move into it.
Good night, dear gentleman." With these words the
old man maneuvered me out of the house and locked the
gate behind me. I heard his feet drag across the floor, I
heard his coughing and the rattling of his bunch of keys,
and I heard him descend some steps. Then all was silent.
During the short time that I had been in the house I had
noticed that the corridor was hung with old tapestries and
furnished like a drawing-room with large, heavy chairs
in red damask.
And now, as if called into life by my entrance into the
mysterious house, my adventures began. The following
day, as I walked through the avenue in the noon hour,
and my eyes sought the deserted house as usual, I saw
something glistening in the last window of the upper story.
Coming nearer I noticed that the outer blind had been
quite drawn up and the inner curtain slightly opened.
The sparkle of a diamond met my eye. O kind Heaven!
The face of my dream looked at me, gently imploring,
from above the rounded arm on which her head was rest-
ing. But how was it possible to stand still in the moving
crowd without attracting attention? Suddenly I caught
sight of the benches placed in the gravel walk in the cen-
ter of the avenue, and I saw that one of them was directly
opposite the house. I sprang over to it, and leaning over
its back, I could stare up at the mysterious window un-
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German Mystery Stories
disturbed. Yes, it was she, the charming maiden of my
dream! But her eye did not seem to seek me as I had
at first thought; her glance was cold and unfocused, and
had it not been for an occasional motion of the hand and
arm, I might have thought that I was looking at a cleverly
painted picture.
I was so lost in my adoration of the mysterious being
in the window, so aroused and excited throughout all my
nerve centers, that I did not hear the shrill voice of an
Italian street hawker, who had been offering me his wares
for some time. Finally he touched me on the arm; I
turned hastily and commanded him to let me alone. But
he did not cease his entreaties, asserting that he had earned
nothing to-day, and begging me to buy some small trifle
from him. Full of impatience to get rid of him I put my
hand in my pocket. With the words : " I have more beau-
tiful things here," he opened the under drawer of his box
and held out to me a little, round pocket mirror. In it,
as he held it up before my face, I could see the deserted
house behind me, the window, and the sweet face of my
vision there.
I bought the little mirror at once, for I saw that it would
make it possible for me to sit comfortably and inconspicu-
ously, and yet watch the window. The longer I looked
at the reflection in the glass, the more I fell captive to a
weird and quite indescribable sensation, which I might
almost call a waking dream. It was as if a lethargy had
lamed my eyes, holding them fastened on the glass beyond
my power to loosen them. Through my mind there rushed
the memory of an old nurse's tale of my earliest childhood.
When my nurse was taking me off to bed, and I showed
an inclination to stand peering into the great mirror in my
father's room, she would tell me that when children looked
into mirrors in the night time they would see a strange,
hideous face there, and their eyes would be frozen so that
they could not move them again. The thought struck
awe to my soul, but I could not resist a peep at the mirror,
I was so curious to see the strange face. Once I did be-
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Ernest Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann
lieve that I saw two hideous glowing eyes shining out of
the mirror. I screamed and fell down in a swoon.
All these foolish memories of my early childhood came
trooping back to me. My blood ran cold through my veins.
I would have thrown the mirror from me, but I could
not. And now at last the beautiful eyes of the fair vision
looked at me, her glance sought mine and shone deep down
into my heart. The terror I had felt left me, giving way
to the pleasurable pain of sweetest longing.
" You have a pretty little mirror there," said a voice be-
side me. I awoke from my dream, and was not a little con-
fused when I saw smiling faces looking at me from either
side. Several persons had sat down upon my bench, and
it was quite certain that my staring into the window, and
my probably strange expression, had afforded them greafc
cause for amusement.
" You have a pretty little mirror there," repeated the
man, as I did not answer him. His glance said more, and
asked without words the reason of my staring so oddly into
the little glass. He was an elderly man, neatly dressed, and
his voice and eyes were so full of good nature that I could
not refuse him my confidence. I told him that I had been
looking in the mirror at the picture of a beautiful maiden
who was sitting at a window of the deserted house. I
went even farther; I asked the old man if he had not
seen the fair face himself. " Over there? In the old house
in the last window?" He repeated my questions in a
tone of surprise.
" Yes, yes," I exclaimed.
The old man smiled and answered : " Well, well, that was
a strange delusion. My old eyes thank Heaven for my
old eyes ! Yes, yes, sir. I saw a pretty face in the window
there, with my own eyes; but it seemed to me to be an
excellently well-painted oil portrait."
I turned quickly and looked toward the window; there
was no one there, and the blind had been pulled down.
" Yes," continued the old man, " yes, sir. Now it is too
late to make sure of the matter, for just now the servant,
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who, as I know, lives there alone in the house of the Coun-
tess S., took the picture away from the window after he
had dusted it, and let down the blinds."
" Was it, then, surely a picture ? " I asked again, in be-
wilderment.
" You can trust my eyes," replied the old man. " The
optical delusion was strengthened by your seeing only the
reflection in the mirror. And when I was in your years it
was easy enough for my fancy to call up the picture of a
beautiful maiden."
" But the hand and arm moved," I exclaimed. " Oh,
yes, they moved, indeed they moved," said the old man
smiling, as he patted me on the shoulder. Then he arose
to go, and bowing politely, closed his remarks with the
words, " Beware of mirrors which can lie so vividly.
Your obedient servant, sir."
You can imagine how I felt when I saw that he looked
upon me as a foolish fantast. I began to be convinced
that the old man was right, and that it was only my absurd
imagination which insisted on raising up mysteries about
the deserted house.
I hurried home full of anger and disgust, and promised
myself that I would not think of the mysterious house, and
would not even walk through the avenue for several days.
I kept my vow, spending my days working at my desk,
and my evenings in the company of jovial friends, leaving
myself no time to think of the mysteries which so enthralled
me. And yet, it was just in these days that I would start
up out of my sleep as if awakened by a touch, only to find
that all that had aroused me was merely the thought of
that mysterious being whom I had seen in my vision and
in the window of the deserted house. Even during my
work, or in the midst of a lively conversation with my
friends, I felt the same thought shoot through me like an
electric current. I condemned the little mirror in which
I had seen the charming picture to a prosaic daily use.
I placed it on my dressing-table that I might bind my
cravat before it, and thus it happened one day, when I was
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Ernest Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann
about to utilize it for this important business, that its glass
seemed dull, and that I took it up and breathed on it to
rub it bright again. My heart seemed to stand still, every
fiber in me trembled in delightful awe. Yes, that is all
the name I can find for the feeling that came over me,
when, as my breath clouded the little mirror, I saw the
beautiful face of my dreams arise and smile at me through
blue mists. You laugh at me? You look upon me as an
incorrigible dreamer? Think what you will about it
the fair face looked at me from out of the mirror! But
as soon as the clouding vanished, the face vanished in the
brightened glass.
I will not weary you with a detailed recital of my sensa-
tions the next few days. I will only say that I repeated
again the experiments with the mirror, sometimes with
success, sometimes without. When I had not been able
to call up the vision, I would run to the deserted house
and stare up at the windows; but I saw no human being,
anywhere about the building. I lived only in thoughts
of my vision; -everything else seemed indifferent to me.
I neglected my friends and my studies. The tortures in
my soul passed over into, or rather mingled with, physical
sensations which frightened me, and which at last made
me fear for my reason. One day, after an unusually severe
attack, I put my little mirror in my pocket and hurried to
the home of Dr. K., who was noted for his treatment of
those diseases of the mind out of which physical diseases
so often grow. I told him my story; I did not conceal the
slightest incident from him, and I implored him to save me
from the terrible fate which seemed to threaten me. He
listened to me quietly, but I read astonishment in his glance.
Then he said : " The danger is not as near as you believe,
and I think that I may say that it can be easily prevented.
You are undergoing an unusual psychical disturbance, be-
yond a doubt. But the fact that you understand that some
evil principle seems to be trying to influence you, gives
you a weapon by which you can combat it. Leave your
little mirror here with me, and force yourself to take up
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German Mystery Stories
with some work which will afford scope for all your mental
energy. Do not go to the avenue ; work all day, from early
to late, then take a long walk, and spend your evenings in
the company of your friends. Eat heartily, and drink
heavy, nourishing wines. You see I am endeavoring to
combat your fixed idea of the face in the window of the
deserted house and in the mirror, by diverting your mind
to other things, and by strengthening your body. You
yourself must help me in this/'
I was very reluctant to part with my mirror. The phy-
sician, who had already taken it, seemed to notice my hesi-
tation. He breathed upon the glass and holding it up to
me, he asked: " Do you see anything?"
" Nothing at all," I answered, for so it was.
" Now breathe on the glass yourself," said the physician,
laying the mirror in my hands.
I did as he requested. There was the vision even more
clearly than ever before.
' " There she is! " I cried aloud.
The physician looked into the glass, and then said: " I
cannot see anything. But I will confess to you that when
I looked into this glass, a queer shiver overcame me, pass-
ing away almost at once. Now do it once more."
I breathed upon the glass again and the physician laid
his hand upon the back of my neck. The face appeared
again, and the physician, looking into the mirror over my
shoulder, turned pale. Then he took the little glass from
my hands, looked at it attentively, and locked it into his
desk, returning to me after a few moments' silent thought.
" Follow my instructions strictly," he said. " I must con-
fess to you that I do not yet understand those moments
of your vision. But I hope to be able to tell you more
about it very soon."
Difficult as it was to me, I forced myself to live absolutely
according to the doctor's orders. I soon felt the benefit of
the steady work and the nourishing diet, and yet I was
not free from those terrible attacks, which would come
either at noon, or, more intensely still, at midnight. Even
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Ernest Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann
in the midst of a merry company, in the enjoyment of wine
and song, glowing daggers seemed to pierce my heart, and
all the strength of my intellect was powerless to resist their
might over me. I was obliged to retire, and could not
return to my friends until I had recovered from my con-
dition of lethargy. It was in one of these attacks, an
unusually strong one, that such an irresistible, mad long-
ing for the picture of my dreams came over me, that I hur-
ried out into the street and ran toward the mysterious
house. While still at a distance from it, I seemed to see
lights shining out through the fast-closed blinds, but when
I came nearer I saw that all was dark. Crazy with my
desire I rushed to the door; it fell back before the pres-
sure of my hand. I stood in the dimly lighted vestibule,
enveloped in a heavy, close atmosphere. My heart beat in
strange fear and impatience. Then suddenly a long, sharp
tone, as from a woman's throat, shrilled through the house.
I know not how it happened that I found myself sud-
denly in a great hall brilliantly lighted and furnished in
old-fashioned magnificence of golden chairs and strange
Japanese ornaments. Strongly perfumed incense arose in
blue clouds about me. " Welcome welcome, sweet bride-
groom! the hour has come, our bridal hour!" I heard
these words in a woman's voice, and as little as I can
tell, how I came into the room, just so little do I know
how it happened that suddenly a tall, youthful figure, richly
dressed, seemed to arise from the blue mists. With the
repeated shrill cry: "Welcome, sweet bridegroom!" she
came toward me with outstretched arms and a yellow
face, distorted with age and madness, stared into mine! I
fell back in terror, but the fiery, piercing glance of her
eyes, like the eyes of a snake, seemed to hold me spell-
bound. I did not seem able to turn my eyes from this
terrible old woman, I could not move another step. She
came still nearer, and it seemed to me suddenly as if
her hideous face were only a thin mask, beneath which
I saw the features of the beautiful maiden of my vision.
Already I felt the touch of her hands, when suddenly she
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German Mystery Stories
fell at my feet with a loud scream, and a voice behind me
cried:
" Oho, is the devil playing his tricks with your grace
again? To bed, to bed, your grace. Else there will be
blows, mighty blows ! "
I turned quickly and saw the old steward in his night
clothes, swinging a whip above his head. He was about
to strike the screaming figure at my feet when I caught
at his arm. But he shook me from him, exclaiming: " The
devil, sir! That old Satan would have murdered you if I
had not come to your aid. Get away from here at once ! "
I rushed from the hall, and sought in vain in the dark-
ness for the door of the house. Behind me I heard the hiss-
ing blows of the whip and the old woman's screams. I
drew breath to call aloud for help, when suddenly the
ground gave way under my feet ; I fell down a short flight
of stairs, bringing up with such force against a door at
the bottom that it sprang open, and I measured my length
on the floor of a small room. From the hastily vacated
bed, and from the familiar brown coat hanging over a
chair, I saw that I was in the bedchamber of the old stew-
ard. There was a trampling on the stair, and the old man
himself entered hastily, throwing himself at my feet. " By
all the saints, sir," he entreated with folded hands, " who-
ever you may be, and however her grace, that old Satan
of a witch has managed to entice you to this house, do
not speak to anyone of what has happened here. It will
cost me my position. Her crazy excellency has been pun-
ished, and is bound fast in her bed. Sleep well, good sir,
sleep softly and sweetly. It is a warm and beautiful July
night. There is no moon, but the stars shine brightly.
A quiet good night to you." While talking, the old man
had taken up a lamp, had led me out of the basement,
pushed me out of the house door, and locked it behind me.
I hurried home quite bewildered, and you can imagine that
I was too much confused by the grewsome secret to be
able to form any explanation of it in my own mind for
the first few days. Only this much was certain, that I was
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Ernest Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann
now free from the evil spell that had held me captive so
long. All my longing for the magic vision in the mirror
had disappeared, and the memory of the scene in the de-
serted house was like the recollection of an unexpected
visit to a madhouse. It was evident beyond a doubt that
the steward was the tyrannical guardian of a crazy woman
of noble birth, whose condition was to be hidden from the
world. But the mirror? and all the other magic? Listen,
and I will tell you more about it.
Some few days later I came upon Count P. at an evening
entertainment. He drew me to one side and said, with a
smile, " Do you know that the secrets of our deserted house
are beginning to be revealed?" I listened with interest;
but before the count could say more the doors of the dining-
room were thrown open, and the company proceeded to
the table. Quite lost in thought at the words I had just
heard, I had given a young lady my arm, and had taken
my place mechanically in the ceremonious procession. I
led my companion to the seats arranged for us, and then
turned to look at her for the first time. The vision of my
mirror stood before me, feature for feature, there was no
deception possible ! I trembled to my innermost heart, as
you can imagine ; but I discovered that there was not the
slightest echo even, in my heart, of the mad desire which
had ruled me so entirely when my breath drew out the
magic picture from the glass. My astonishment, or rather
my terror, must have been apparent in my eyes. The girl
looked at me in such surprise that I endeavored to control
myself sufficiently to remark that I must have met her
somewhere before. Her short answer, to the effect that this
could hardly be possible, as she had come to the city only
yesterday for the first time in her life, bewildered me still
more and threw me into an awkward silence. The sweet
glance from her gentle eyes brought back my courage,
and I began a tentative exploring of this new companion's
mind. I found that I had before me a sweet and delicate
being, suffering from some psychic trouble. At a particu-
larly merry turn of the conversation, when I would throw
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German Mystery Stories
in a daring word like a dash of pepper, she would smile,
but her smile was pained, as if a wound had been touched.
" You are not very merry to-night, countess. Was it the
visit this morning? " An officer sitting near us had spoken
these words to my companion, but before he could finish
his remark his neighbor had grasped him by the arm and
whispered something in his ear, while a lady at the other
side of the table, with glowing cheeks and angry eyes, began
to talk loudly of the opera she had heard last evening.
Tears came to the eyes of the girl sitting beside me. " Am
I not foolish ? " She turned to me. A few moments before
she had complained of headache. " Merely the usual evi-
dences of a nervous headache," I answered in an easy tone,
" and there is nothing better for it than the merry spirit
which bubbles in the foam of this poet's nectar." With
these words I filled her champagne glass, and she sipped
at it as she threw me a look of gratitude. Her mood
brightened, and all would have been well had I not touched
a glass before me with unexpected strength, arousing from
it a shrill, high tone. My companion grew deadly pale,
and I myself felt a sudden shiver, for the sound had exactly
the tone of the mad woman's voice in the deserted house.
While we were drinking coffee I made an opportunity to
get to the side of Count P. He understood the reason for
my movement. " Do you know that your neighbor is
Countess Edwina S. ? And do you know also that it is her
mother's sister who lives in the deserted house, incurably
mad for many years? This morning both mother and
daughter went to see the unfortunate woman. The old
steward, the only person who is able to control the countess
in her outbreaks, is seriously ill, and they say that the sister
has finally revealed the secret to Dr. K. This eminent
physician will endeavor to cure the patient, or if this is not
possible, at least to prevent her terrible outbreaks of mania.
This is all that I know yet."
Others joined us and we were obliged to change the sub-
ject. Dr. K. was the physician to whom I had turned in
my own anxiety, and you can well imagine that I hurried
Ernest Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann
to him as soon as I was free, and told him all that had
happened to me in the last days. I asked him to tell me
as much as he could about the mad woman, for my own
peace of mind; and this is what I learned from him under
promise of secrecy.
" Angelica, Countess Z.," thus the doctor began, " had
already passed her thirtieth year, but was still in full pos-
session of great beauty, when Count S., although much
younger than she, became so fascinated by her charm that
he wooed her with ardent devotion and followed her to
her father's home to try his luck there. But scarcely had
the count entered the house, scarcely had he caught sight
of Angelica's younger sister, Gabrielle, when he awoke as
from a dream. The elder sister appeared faded and col-
orless beside Gabrielle, whose beauty and charm so en-
thralled the count that he begged her hand of her father.
Count Z. gave his consent easily, as there was no doubt
of Gabrielle's feelings toward her suitor. Angelica did not
show the slightest anger at her lover's faithlessness. ' He
believes that he has forsaken me, the foolish boy ! He does
not perceive that he was but my toy, a toy of which I had
tired.' Thus she spoke in proud scorn, and not a look
or an action on her part belied her words. But after the
ceremonious betrothal of Gabrielle to Count S., Angelica
was seldom seen by the members of her family. She did not
appear at the dinner table, and it was said that she spent
most of her time walking alone in the neighboring wood.
" A strange occurrence disturbed the monotonous quiet of
life in the castle. The hunters of Count Z., assisted by
peasants from the village, had captured a band of gypsies
who were accused of several robberies and murders which
had happened recently in the neighborhood. The men
were brought to the castle courtyard, fettered together on
a long chain, while the women and children were packed
on a cart. Noticeable among the last was a tall, haggard
old woman of terrifying aspect, wrapped from head to foot
in a red shawl. She stood upright in the cart, and in an
imperious tone demanded that she should be allowed to
German Mystery Stories
descend. The guards were so awed by her manner and
appearance that they obeyed her at once.
" Count Z. came down to the courtyard and commanded
that the gang should be placed in the prisons under the
castle. Suddenly Countess Angelica rushed out of the
door, her hair all loose, fear and anxiety in her pale face.
Throwing herself on her knees, she cried in a piercing
voice, ' Let these people go ! Let these people go ! They
are innocent ! Father, let these people go ! If you shed
one drop of their blood I will pierce my heart with this
knife ! ' The countess swung a shining knife in the air and
then sank swooning to the ground. ' Yes, my beautiful
darling my golden child I knew you would not let them
hurt us/ shrilled the old woman in red. She cowered be-
side the countess and pressed disgusting kisses to her face
and breast, murmuring crazy words. She took from out
the recesses of her shawl a little vial in which a tiny gold-
fish seemed to swim in some silver-clear liquid. She held
the vial to the countess's heart. The latter regained con-
sciousness immediately. When her eyes fell on the gypsy
woman, she sprang up, clasped the old creature ardently
in her arms, and hurried with her into the castle.
" Count Z., Gabrielle, and her lover, who had come out
during this scene, watched it in astonished awe. The
gypsies appeared quite indifferent. They were loosed from
their chains and taken separately to the prisons. Next
morning Count Z. called the villagers together. The
gypsies were led before them and the count announced
that he had found them to be innocent of the crimes of
which they were accused, and that he would grant them
free passage through his domains. To the astonishment of
all present, their fetters were struck off and they were set
at liberty. The red-shawled woman was not among them.
It was whispered that the gypsy captain, recognizable
from the golden chain about his neck and the red feather
in his high Spanish hat, had paid a secret visit to the
count's room the night before. But it was discovered, a
short time after the release of the gypsies, that they were
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Ernest Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann
indeed guiltless of the robberies and murders that had
disturbed the district.
" The date set for Gabrielle's wedding approached. One
day, to her great astonishment, she saw several large
wagons in the courtyard being packed high with furniture,
clothing, linen, with everything necessary for a complete
household outfit. The wagons were driven away, and the
following day Count Z. explained that, for many reasons,
he had thought it best to grant Angelica's odd request
that she be allowed to set up her own establishment in his
house in X. He had given the house to her, and had
promised her that no member of the family, not even he
himself, should enter it without her express permission.
He added also, that, at her urgent request, he had per-
mitted his own valet to accompany her, to take charge
of her household.
" When the wedding festivities were over, Count S. and
his bride departed for their home, where they spent a year
in cloudless happiness. Then the count's health failed mys-
teriously. It was as if some secret sorrow gnawed at his
vitals, robbing him of joy and strength. All efforts of
his young wife to discover the source of his trouble were
fruitless. At last, when the constantly recurring fainting
spells threatened to endanger his very life, he yielded to
the entreaties of his physicians and left his home, ostensi-
bly for Pisa. His young wife was prevented from accom-
panying him by the delicate condition of her own health.
" And now," said the doctor, " the information given me
by Countess S. became, from this point on, so rhapsodical
that a keen observer only could guess at the true coherence
of the story. Her baby, a daughter, born during her hus-
band's absence, was spirited away from the house, and all
search for it was fruitless. Her grief at this loss deepened
to despair, when she received a message from her father
stating that her husband, whom all believed to be in Pisa,
had been found dying of heart trouble in Angelica's home
in X., and that Angelica herself had become a danger-
ous maniac. The old count added that all this horror had
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German Mystery Stories
so shaken his own nerves that he feared he would not
long survive it.
" As soon as Gabrielle was able to leave her bed, she
hurried to her father's castle. One night, prevented from
sleeping by visions of the loved ones she had lost, she
seemed to hear a faint crying, like that of an infant, be-
fore the door of her chamber. Lighting her candle she
opened the door. Great Heaven! there cowered the old
gypsy woman, wrapped in her red shawl, staring up at her
with eyes that seemed already glazing in death. In her
arms she held a little child, whose crying had aroused the
countess. Gabrielle's heart beat high with joy it was her
child her lost daughter! She snatched the infant from
the gypsy's arms, just as the woman fell at her feet life-
less. The countess's screams awoke the house, but the
gypsy was quite dead and no effort to revive her met with
success.
" The old count hurried to X. to endeavor to discover
something that would throw light upon the mysterious dis-
appearance and reappearance of the child. Angelica's
madness had frightened away all her female servants ; the
valet alone remained with her. She appeared at first to
have become quite calm and sensible. But when the
count told her the story of Gabrielle's child she clapped
her hands and laughed aloud, crying : ' Did the little dar-
ling arrive ? You buried her, you say ? How the feathers
of the gold pheasant shine in the sun! Have you seen
the green lion with the fiery blue eyes ? ' Horrified the
count perceived that Angelica's mind was gone beyond
a doubt, and he resolved to take her back with him to
his estates, in spite of the warnings of his old valet. At
the mere suggestion of removing her from the house
Angelica's ravings increased to such an extent as to en-
danger her own life and that of the others.
" When a lucid interval came again Angelica entreated
her father, with many tears, to let her live and die in the
house she had chosen. Touched by her terrible trouble he
granted her request, although he believed the confession
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Ernest The odor Amadeus Hoffmann
which slipped from her lips during this scene to be a
fantasy of her madness. She told him that Co ant S. had
returned to her arms, and that the child which the gypsy
had taken to her father's house was the fruit of their
love. The rumor went abroad in the city that Count Z.
had taken the unfortunate woman to his home; but the
truth was that she remained hidden in the deserted house
under the care of the valet. Count Z. died a short time
ago, and Countess Gabrielle came here with her daugh-
ter Edwina to arrange some family affairs. It was not
possible for her to avoid seeing her unfortunate sister.
Strange things must have happened during this visit, but
the countess has not confided anything to me, saying
merely that she had found it necessary to take the mad
woman away from the old valet. It had been discovered
that he had controlled her outbreaks by means of force
and physical cruelty; and that also, allured by Angelica's
assertions that she could make gold, he had allowed him-
self to assist her in her weird operations.
" It would be quite unnecessary," thus the physician
ended his story, " to say anything more to you about the
deeper inward relationship of all these strange things. It
is clear to my mind that it was you who brought about
the catastrophe, a catastrophe which will mean recovery
or speedy death for the sick woman. And now I will con-
fess to you that I was not a little alarmed, horrified even,
to discover that when I had set myself in magnetic com-
munication with you by placing my hand on your neck
I could see the picture in the mirror with my own eyes.
We both know now that the reflection in the glass was
the face of Countess Edwina."
I repeat Dr. K/s words in saying that, to my mind also,
there is no further comment that can be made on all these
facts. I consider it equally unnecessary to discuss at any
further length with you now the mysterious relationship
between Angelica, Edwina, the old valet, and myself a
relationship which seemed the work of a malicious demon
who was playing his tricks with us. I will add only that
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German Mystery Stories
I left the city soon after all these events, driven from the
place by an oppression I could not shake off. The un-
canny sensation left me suddenly a month or so later,
giving way to a feeling of intense relief that flowed through
all my veins with the warmth of an electric current. I
am convinced that this change within me came about in
the moment when the mad woman died.
Thus did Theodore end his narrative. His friends had
much to say about his strange adventure, and they agreed
with him that the odd and unusual, and the truly mar-
velous as well, were mingled in a strange and grewsome
manner in his story. When they parted for the night,
Franz shook Theodore's hand gently, as he said with a
smile : " Good night, you Spallanzani bat, you."
156
Karl Rosner
The Versegy Case
TT was my friend Richard Plank who first told me the
entire truth about the Versegy case. This remarkable
affair, occurring in Budapest in the early ox>'s, had caused
great excitement, an excitement shared by the police of all
Austria. Plank, who was a detective in the service of the
Viennese police department, had been the one to bring light
into the darkness of this mysterious case. After twenty
years' service, Plank had settled down to private life in the
same little suburb where my home was situated. He was
my neighbor, and this fact, as well as our mutual fondness
for the game of chess, made firm friends of us. In the
course of the long evenings we spent in each other's com-
pany he told me many incidents of his adventurous life.
Among the most interesting of the stories was the one about
the Versegy case, a narrative which I shall write down here
exactly as Plank told it to me.
The Versegy case (he began) was one of the few of real
importance which came to me during my last years of
service. What made it particularly interesting to me was
the fact that through a mere chance I was enabled to observe
the events from their very beginning. This is something
which happens but seldom in criminal cases. Usually the
detective is sent for only when the clumsiness of local police
authorities has so garbled the material that it is of little
use to him. We detectives consider it a great piece of luck
when we are able to study a crime from the beginning,
unhampered by all assistance, well meant or otherwise, from
our superiors in the police force. This good luck fell to
my share in the Versegy case.
My Viennese chief of the moment, Commissioner Franz,
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German Mystery Stories
had sent me to Budapest to round up a company of
Roumanian swindlers who had been operating disastrously
in Vienna. Some members of the band had been seen in
Budapest, and I was detailed to follow them up. Aided
by an unusually intelligent commissioner of police, it was
an easy matter for me to run the gang to earth. I was
rather attracted to the young Budapest commissioner. He
had considerable talent for the business, except for his over-
sanguine temperament, perhaps.
The affair of the swindlers was settled to our satisfaction,
and I was standing one day in the office of the young com-
missioner, just about to take my farewell of him, when an
attendant announced a gentleman outside, who was anxious
to speak to someone in authority. The man handed us a
card which bore the name " Professor Sandor Versegy."
Before I could leave the room our visitor rushed in, evidently
in great excitement. He stammered an excuse for his hasty
entrance, then broke out into a rush of incoherent words.
With difficulty we gathered the facts that his safe had been
opened and that he had been robbed of a large sum. The
poor man seemed utterly upset, and he finally sank down
on a bench near the wall and burst into loud sobs.
While the commissioner was endeavoring to soothe him
with kindly words of sympathy, I stood watching the gentle-
man closely. Professor Sandor Versegy was a nervous
little man of about fifty years of age, dressed in clothes of
fashionable cut. In spite of the disordered condition of his
nerves at the moment, his face was clearly that of a man
accustomed to intellectual pursuits. It was also plain to
be seen that overwork and indulgence in stimulants had
aged him prematurely. His appearance was sympathetic,
or would have been so, except for the uncontrollable manner
in which he gave way to his feelings. His excitability was
so great as to point to a lack of mental b
