Babekan sat lost in thought, wondering what the devil could have stirred such a strange passion in the girl, when the fugitive entered the room with a note he’d written, stuffed in the pocket of his nightgown, inviting his family to spend a few days at the plantation of the Negro Hoango. He extended a cheerful and friendly greeting to mother and daughter, handed the note to the old woman and asked that someone immediately take it to the clearing along with a few provisions for his kinfolk, as he’d been promised. Babekan stood up, and with a worried look, took the note, stuffed it into the cupboard and said: “Sir, we must ask you to immediately return to your bedroom. The highway is teeming with lone Negro troops rushing by, who’ve informed us that General Dessalines and his army are headed this way. In this house, which is open to everyone, you will find no safe haven unless you hide in your room facing the yard and shut tight the door and all the windows.” “What?” said the stunned stranger, “General Dessalines . . . ?” “Don’t ask any questions!” Babekan interrupted, knocking three times with a stick on the wooden floor. “I’ll follow you and explain everything in your room.” Hustled off by the old woman who feigned worried looks, the stranger turned and called out at the dining room door: “But won’t you at least send a messenger to my family waiting for me in the woods, informing them of that . . . ?” “It will all be attended to,” she cut him short, just as the bastard boy whom we already know came rushing in; whereupon she ordered Toni, who stood before a mirror with her back to the stranger, to take up the basket of provisions in the corner of the room; and mother, daughter, the boy, and the stranger went up to his bedroom.
Here, easing herself slowly into a chair, the old woman told how they’d seen the fires of General Dessalines shimmering all night long on the mountains that blocked the horizon, a verifiable fact indeed, although not a single Negro from his army advancing in a southwestern direction toward Port au Prince had shown his face in the immediate surroundings. She thereby succeeded in sending the stranger into a frenzied panic, which she promptly managed to still with the assurance that, even in the worst-case scenario, if soldiers were quartered in her house, she would do everything possible to ensure his safety. And upon the latter’s imploring reminder that, under these circumstances, his family at least be furnished with provisions, she took the basket from her daughter’s hands, and handing it to the boy, instructed him to go to the clearing at the edge of the seagull pond and bring it to the officer’s family that was camped out there. “The officer himself is safe,” she told him to tell them, “friends of the whites, who, on account of their sympathies, had been made to suffer much at the hands of the blacks, have given him shelter.” In conclusion, she said to assure them that, as soon as the highway was free of the armed Negro bands they expected soon, efforts would be made to bring the family here too and offer them safe haven in this house. “Do you understand?” she asked. Hoisting the basket onto his head, the boy replied that he was very familiar with the seagull pond, where he liked to go fishing with his friends, and that he would do everything he’d been told to help the stranger’s family camping out there for the night. And upon the old woman’s question if he had anything to add, the stranger proceeded to pull a ring from his finger and gave it to the boy, instructing him to pass it to the head of the family, Monsieur Strömli, as a sign that the conveyed message was true. Hereupon the old woman took numerous precautionary measures to assure the stranger’s safety, as she maintained; she ordered Toni to close the shutters, and in order to shed a little light in the darkness, she ignited, not without difficulty, as the flint at first refused to function, a kerosene lamp on the mantelpiece. The stranger took advantage of this moment of chaos to gently sling an arm around Toni and whisper in her ear: “How did you sleep?” And: “Should I not inform your mother of what happened?” But Toni ignored the first question, and pulling herself free of his embrace, whispered back a hasty “No!” in response to the second. “If you love me, don’t say a word!” She did her best to hide the terror that all these deceitful maneuvers stirred up in her; and with the pretext of having to prepare the stranger’s breakfast, she scrambled down to the dining room.
Taking from her mother’s cupboard the note the stranger had written to his family, in which he had, in all innocence, invited them to the house, she decided to follow the boy to their camp; and having resolved, if worst came to worst, and her mother noticed it was missing, to share her lover’s death, she rushed after the boy who had already set off along the highway. For she now no longer saw the young officer, before God, in her heart of hearts, as merely a wanderer to whom she had given shelter, but as her betrothed husband-to-be, and she was determined, once his kinfolk had entered the house in full force, to openly declare this to her mother without worrying about her stupefied reaction. “Nanky,” she gasped, out of breath, having run after and finally caught up with the boy on the highway, “mother changed her plan concerning the family of Monsieur Strömli. Take this letter! It is addressed to Monsieur Strömli himself, the old head of the family, and contains an invitation for them all to come spend a few days at our place. Use your head and do everything in your power to bring it off without a hitch; Congo Hoango will reward you upon his return!” “Good, good, Miss Toni!” the boy replied. And carefully folding and stashing the letter in his pocket, he asked: “And am I to serve them as a guide on the walk back?” “Definitely,” said Toni, “since they don’t know the way. But to avoid running into any troops that might be patrolling the highway you’ll have to hold off your return until after midnight, but then make sure to walk quickly so as to get them here before the break of day. Can I count on you, Nanky?” she asked. “You can count on Nanky!” the boy replied. “I know why you’re luring these white fugitives to the plantation, and Hoango will be well pleased!”
Hereupon Toni rushed back to the house and brought the stranger his breakfast; and after bringing back the dirty dishes, the daughter rejoined her mother in the front dining room to attend to household chores. A little while later, without fail, the mother went to the cupboard and, of course, found the message missing. Doubting her memory, she put her hand to her head and asked Toni: “Where in Heaven’s name could I have put the letter the stranger gave me?” After a moment’s silence, during which she looked down at the floor, Toni replied: “As I recall, the stranger took it back and tore it up in our presence in his room!” The mother gave the girl a puzzled look: “I’m quite sure I remember him handing me the letter and my putting it in that cupboard for safekeeping!” But after rummaging through all the shelves and still not finding it, not trusting her memory, on account of several such apparent lapses, she finally had no other recourse but to believe her daughter’s recollection. In the meantime, busying herself with other tasks, she could not hide her considerable vexation, muttering that the letter would have been of the greatest importance to the Negro Hoango, as it would have enabled them to lure the entire family to the plantation. At lunch and again at suppertime, as Toni served the stranger his meal, Babekan, who kept him company at table, took advantage of the opportunity to ask after the letter; but as soon as the talk turned to this dangerous issue, Toni managed skillfully to deflect or muddle the conversation, such that the mother was unable to make hide or hair of the stranger’s explanation concerning the letter. And so the day went by; after the evening meal, Babekan locked the stranger’s door, for his safety, she assured him; and after hashing out with Toni by what ruse she might lay her hands on such a letter the next day, she retired for the night and likewise told her daughter to go to bed.
But as soon as Toni got to her room and assured herself that her mother was sound asleep, having longed for this moment, she took the painting of the Holy Virgin from where it hung on the wall beside her bed, set it on a chair, and knelt down before it with folded hands. In a fervent prayer, she implored, her godly Son, the Savior, to grant her the courage and perseverance to confess to the young man, her betrothed, all the crimes that burdened her young bosom. She swore
not even to hide from him, however painful it might be to reveal, her merciless and terrible intent when she lured him into the house the previous day; but for the sake of the things she’d done since then to save him, she begged him to forgive her and to take her with him to Europe as his faithful wife. Feeling wonderfully fortified by this prayer, she rose, and reaching for the pass key to every room in the house, slowly made her way in the dark down the narrow corridor that ran through the middle of the house, feeling her way toward the stranger’s room. Quietly she unlocked the door and walked over to his bed, where he lay fast asleep. The moon lit up his radiant face, and the night wind that wafted through the open window played with the hair on his forehead. She gently leaned over him and whispered his name, inhaling his sweet breath; but he was preoccupied by a deep dream of which she appeared to be the object: for several times she heard his feverish, fluttering lips whisper back, “Toni!” Overcome by an indescribable wistfulness, she could not bring it upon herself to tear him out of his sweet heavenly illusions down into a mundane and miserable reality; and convinced that he would awaken sooner or later of his own accord, she knelt down beside his bed and covered his precious hand with kisses.
But who can describe the horror that gripped her breast moments later upon suddenly hearing the sound of people, horses and rattling arms in the courtyard, and clearly recognizing among them the voice of the Negro Congo Hoango, unexpectedly returned with his entire band from General Dessalines’ encampment. Careful to avoid being seen in the moonlight, she scrambled for cover behind the window curtains, and already heard her mother informing Hoango of everything that happened while he was gone, including the presence of the European fugitive. With a muffled voice the Negro ordered his men to be still in the yard. He asked the old woman where the stranger was at that moment, whereupon she told him the room the white man was in and promptly proceeded to report the curious conversation she had had with her daughter concerning him. She assured the Negro that the girl was a traitor and that because of her daughter her entire plan of capturing the fugitive’s family threatened to fall through. The little fox, she said, had secretly taken advantage of the cover of night to sneak off to his bed, where she was sleeping soundly at this moment; and in all likelihood, if the stranger hadn’t already flown the coop, she’d warned him and conspired to facilitate his escape. Having already tested the girl’s trustworthiness under similar circumstances, the Negro replied: “I can’t believe it!” And “Kelly!” he cried in a rage. And “Omra! Get your guns!” And without wasting another word, he scampered up the steps with his entire entourage and barged into the stranger’s room.
Toni, before whose eyes and ears the entire scene had transpired, stood paralyzed in every limb, as though she’d been struck by lightning. At one point she thought of waking the stranger; but she immediately fathomed that, given the presence of Hoango’s troops, escape was no longer an option, and that since he was likely to reach for his weapons, and the Negro held the advantage by strength of number, she already saw him stretched out dead on the floor. She was indeed compelled to take into account the likelihood of the poor man’s assumption, upon finding her beside his bed at that moment, that she had betrayed him, and so, instead of following her advice, of flying in a frenzy and rashly falling right into Hoango’s clutches. In this unspeakable paroxysm of terror she suddenly laid eyes on a rope that, God knows by what coincidence, hung from a hook on the wall. God himself, she felt, had placed it there to save her and her beloved. She took it and bound the young man’s hands and feet, tying several knots; and not concerning herself with the fact that he had begun to stir and struggle to break free, she fastened the rope ends tightly to the bed frame; and happy to have mastered the moment, pressed a kiss on his lips and hurried off to greet Hoango, who was already clambering up the steps.
Still doubting the old woman’s account of Toni’s betrayal, upon seeing the girl rush out of the stranger’s room the Negro stood stunned and bewildered in the corridor with his armed and torch-bearing retinue. “The false-hearted turncoat!” he cried out, and turning to Babekan, who had taken several steps toward the door, asked her: “Has he escaped?” Finding the door open, without herself going in, Babekan turned back and howled like a lunatic: “The lying little cheat! She let him get away! Hurry up and man the gates before he makes it to the open fields!” “What’s the matter?” asked Toni, seeing the look of fury on the faces of the old woman and the blacks in attendance. “What the matter is?” Hoango replied, whereupon he seized her chest and dragged her into the room. “Are you all mad?” she yelled, breaking free of Hoango, who stood there stunned by what he saw. “Here’s your fugitive festooned by my own hand in his bed; and, by God, it’s not the worst deed I’ve ever done in my life!” At these words, she turned her back to him and sat down at a table, pretending to burst into tears. The old man turned in a rage at the mother who stood to the side: “Oh Babekan, with what fairy tales have you deceived me?” “Thank heaven,” replied the bewildered mother, examining the rope with which the stranger was tied; “here he is, indeed, though I can’t for the life of me understand what’s going on.” Sheathing his sword, the Negro strode to the bed and asked the stranger who he was, where he came from and where he was headed. But since the latter, twisting and turning to break free, made no reply but the pitifully muttered words: “Oh, Toni! Oh, Toni!” the mother spoke up and said he was a Swiss by the name of Gustav von der Ried, and that he and his filthy brood of European dogs, who at this very moment were hiding out in caves by the seagull pond, came from the coastal outpost of Fort Dauphin. Hoango, who saw the girl seated in a woeful state with her head buried in her hands, walked over to her and called her his dear girl, clapped her on the cheeks and begged her to forgive his having hastily suspected her. The old woman, who likewise approached the girl, shaking her head, flung her hands in the air, and asked: “Why then, if the stranger knew nothing of the impending danger he was in, did you bind him to the bed?” Turning suddenly to her mother, Toni, who was now crying real tears of heartache and fury, replied: “Because you have no eyes and ears! Because he did indeed grasp the danger he was in! Because he wanted to escape and begged me to help him! Because he intended to make an attempt on your own life, and had I not tied him up while still asleep, would surely have carried out his plan at daybreak!” Old Hoango covered the girl with caresses, trying to calm her down, and ordered Babekan to speak no more of this. He called for several guards with muskets to promptly carry out the sentence prescribed by the law on the stranger, but Babekan whispered in his ear: “For heaven’s sake, no, Hoango!” She took him aside and gave him to understand: “Before being executed, the stranger must be made to write an invitation, with the help of which we will lure to the plantation his family, whose capture would otherwise involve considerable risk.” Considering the fact that the family was most likely not unarmed, Hoango concurred with this recommendation; but seeing as it was too late to make the prisoner write such a letter, he posted two guards at his bedside; and after once again inspecting the rope himself, finding that it was too loose, and calling upon two of his men to tie it more tightly, he left the room with his retinue, and things settled back into an apparent calm.
But only pretending to go to bed, Toni bid good-night to the old Negro, who once again gave her his hand, and got up again as soon as the house was still, slipped out the back door and rushed into the field, and ran with her breast heaving in the darkest despair out to the highway to the path Monsieur Strömli’s family would have to take. The looks of contempt that the stranger shot at her from his bed pierced her heart like the thrusts of a knife; a feeling of hot bitterness mingled with the love she felt for him, and she exulted at the thought of dying in the course of carrying out his rescue. Afraid of missing the family if she tried to head them off, she waited by the trunk of a stone pine, by which, presuming they accepted the invitation, the group was bound to pass; and no sooner did the first flicker of dawn break on the horizon than, true to her instr
uctions, Nanky’s voice could already be heard in the distance, leading them along.
The group comprised Monsieur Strömli and his wife, the latter riding on a mule, their five children, two of which, Adelbert and Gottfried, big strapping boys of eighteen and seventeen, respectively, walked beside the animal; three servants and two maids, one of whom, with a baby at her breast, rode the second mule; in all, they counted twelve. Making their way slowly over the protruding roots at the edge of the forest, they came to the stone pine, where Toni stepped out of the shadow as silently as possible, so as not to scare anyone, and called out: “Halt!” Nanky immediately recognized her and when she asked, as men, women, and children surrounded her, “Which one is Monsieur Strömli?” he cheerfully introduced her to the aging head of the family. “Noble Sir,” she said, with a firm voice interrupting the latter’s warm greeting, “the Negro Hoango unexpectedly returned home with his entire force. You cannot now find refuge here without risk to your life; indeed, your nephew, who, alas, was duped by the ploy, is lost if you don’t immediately take up arms and follow me to rescue him from the plantation where the Negro Hoango is holding him captive!” “God in Heaven!” all the members of the terror-stricken family cried out in unison; and the mother, who was ill and drained by the difficult journey, fell unconscious from the pack animal to the ground. While the maids leapt forward, on Monsieur Strömli’s orders, to help his wife, Toni, fearing Nanky’s inquisitive ears and all the while showered with questions from the sons, took Monsieur Strömli and the other men aside. And making no attempt to hold back her tears of shame and compunction, she told them everything that had happened; how matters stood at the moment the young man arrived at the house; how the intimate conversation she had with him unexpectedly changed everything; what she had done, half-crazy with terror, upon the Negro’s arrival, and how she was now resolved to risk her life to save him from the trap she herself had led him into. “My weapons!” cried Monsieur Strömli, rushing to his wife’s mule and pulling out his musket. And while his brave sons Adelbert and Gottfried and the three stout-hearted servants likewise reached for their arms, he said: “Our nephew Gustav saved more than one of our lives, now it’s up to us to do the same for him.” Whereupon he hoisted his wife, who had meanwhile regained consciousness, back onto the mule; as an added precaution, he had Nanky taken as a sort of hostage with his hands bound; sent his wife and little children and the maids, under the armed guard of his thirteen-year-old son Ferdinand back to the seagull pond; and after sounding out Toni, who had herself taken up helmet and sword, as to the strength of the Negro’s force and their positioning in the courtyard, and having assured her that he would do his best to spare Hoango as well as her mother, bravely putting himself in the hands of God, taking the lead of his little troop, he set off after Toni back to the plantation.
Selected Prose of Heinrich Von Kleist Page 5
