The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror)

by Eliza Parsons

  Joy for some moments suspended the utterance of Jacques, and surprise that of the count; which silence the host misconstruing on the part of the count, advanced to rid him of his troublesome detainer, and for that purpose, seized with both his hands Jacques's left arm; this rough handling first recalled Jacques to his recollection, and immediately springing on his feet, he levelled a blow at the host for attempting to tear him from the count, which, had not the count arrested his arm, and thus prevented its full execution, might have proved of fatal consequences to the unwarranted interferer.

  Those who laugh irrationally at trifles, laugh equally whoever is the cause; thus the whole merriment of the kitchen was now turned against the precipitately retreating landlord; but as ridicule has often produced valour in a breast which nature never implanted in it, the landlord, with a countenance which seemed in return for this raillery to wish every one present in his situation, with exactly his feelings (by no means a slender punishment), was advancing to the combat, when the count stepping between the combatants, explained in as few words as he could convey his meaning in, that the offender was a person in whom he felt interest, and that he wished the dispute to cease.

  A smaller plea would have quieted the fury of the host; and all Jacques wished for, was a moment for testifying the joy and triumph he felt at again finding the count, which he did by a loud huzzah, and exclaiming "that the count was the only good man ever created, except his own father, who was dead."

  The confusion of fists being ended, the confusion of tongues ensued; Jacques stood on one side of the count, exclaiming incoherently, "Ah, monsieur, how could you run away and not take me with you? I am sure I would have been faithful to you: you know I would.—I would not have staid there without you for all the world; it was worse than the maudite Bastile:—well, Dieu merci, I have found you now, and if ever I leave you again, I wish my uncle and Kroonzer may both catch me the next minute."—On the other side stood the host, who, regardless of Jacques's ejaculation, contended to relate, that Jacques had arrived there on foot about two hours before, that he had inquired for a person, by whom the host now found him to have meant the count, whose dress he could not describe, and with whom he had sometimes said he expected to find a lady; sometimes a lady and a young man, and sometimes that he was alone; in short, that he had talked so inconsistently, and so much in French, that they had not understood above half what he said, only that he had often mentioned the Bastile; that they at last conjectured him to be mad, and when the count entered, he confessed they had been amusing themselves at his expense, till he had wept for vexation; added to this, the hostess, whose voice was none of the softest, was continually interlarding her husband's story with her own emendations and additions, and no one else in the kitchen desisted from giving their own opinion, whether it was attended to or not.

  The count seized the first moment of silence, which many attempts to articulate at length gained him from that part of his audience by which he wished to be heard, to announce to the host and hostess that Jacques was a person for whom he entertained a warm friendship, and to desire that he might be accommodated to his ease, making himself answerable for the charge: he then turned to Jacques, and having easily convinced him that he was under the necessity of leaving him to watch over a sick friend, and with a caution to be careful what he said, and promising to see him early in the morning, he returned to the chamber of Alphonsus with the drink he had left it to procure.

  Count Byroff was far from being displeased at so unexpectedly again meeting with Jacques Perlet; he knew him to be faithfully attached to him, and promised himself that he would be a useful companion on their intended journey; that Jacques had contrived to escape from the banditti, after having effected it from the Bastile, could not much excite his wonder; but what chance had fortunately conducted him to the spot where he now was, his curiosity was raised to learn.

  At an early hour Lauretta returned to the chamber of her husband; she found him fallen into a soft slumber: the count stole silently out of the room, and left his daughter to the willing task of watching over her Alphonsus.

  Early as the hour was, Jacques was risen, and the count descending, found him waiting his arrival, seated on a bench without the door of the little inn, where he was practising his trade on his own shoes, which were a good deal the worse for the journey they had performed.

  On seeing the count, he sprang from his seat, and shaking him by the hand with both his, reiterated his joy at their fortunate meeting: the count in return acknowledged the pleasure it gave him, and having told Jacques to resume his seat, and placed himself by his side, he began to inquire what accident had brought him to that spot.

  "No accident at all, monsieur," replied Jacques, "but chance; as soon as I had got away from the old castle full of robbers, I resolved to walk all over the empire, and ask every body I met after you, till I found you; and you see, monsieur, what good fortune I have had, graces à Dieu; and I hope you won't send me away from you now, monsieur."

  The count immediately eased his doubts on this head, and then proceeded to inform him of the occasion of his having left the banditti, and also gave him the outlines of such occurrences as had befallen him since their last meeting.

  "Well, monsieur, and how do you think I got away from them?" cried Jacques, in return to the count's narrative.

  "I know you have a ready invention," returned count Byroff, "but cannot possibly presume to guess in what manner you exercised it in effecting your escape."

  "Then I'll tell you, monsieur:—when Kroonzer came back at night, and told us of Theodore's death, and that the lady was your daughter, some said one thing of you, and some another; however they all agreed that it was natural enough for you to go with your child, and that they believed you were too much a man of honour to betray them, after they had been so kind to you; so they resolved not to seek after you, or to hurt you, if you again fell into their hands. Well, monsieur, when I heard you were gone, I had a strange inclination to be gone too; but I durst not ask, for I thought perhaps they might not put so much trust in me as a man of honour, as they did in you, and would keep such a tight watch over me, that I might never get away from them at all; so I only pretended to cry, and be very unhappy, because I might never see you again; and I declared, that if you did not come back next day, I would kill myself: they only laughed at me, but, however, I knew what I was doing, and did not mind them a straw; next day I was quite melancholy, and at night they asked me, whether I would keep my word; I did not answer them, but went and threw myself on my bed, dressed as I was: when they were all asleep, I got up, and running past the man who had the watch in the hall, I made for the muddy pond on the west side of the castle, and having thrown in a great stone, a hat, and handkerchief, I climbed up, like a cat, into the top of the old willow that stands on its margin; presently several of the banditti came and dragged for me in the pond; the hat which they saw left them no room to doubt that I had thrown myself in, and not finding my body after some time searching, they concluded me sunk into the mud and smothered, and away they went neither pleased nor sorry at what had happened: when they were gone I came down from the tree, and ever since, monsieur, I have been wandering about, I hardly know where."

  The physician arriving to attend his patient put an end to their conversation, as count Byroff rose to accompany him to the chamber of Alphonsus.

  In the course of the day Jacques was introduced to the knowledge of Alphonsus and Lauretta, the former of whom received him as graciously as his situation would permit; the latter, in a transport of gratitude, as the sole means of her having ever known a father.

  Alphonsus continued rapidly to regain his health and strength, and at the expiration of ten other days the physician pronounced him able to recommence his journey; our travellers accordingly, with the addition of Jacques to their former party, again set forward on their route, and no occurrence worthy of notice happened till their arrival at a solitary inn, which was situated in the road between C
ohenburg castle, and the mansion of count Frederic, and about a league distant from each.

  CHAPTER XXII

  How many things are there that the fancy makes terrible by night, which the day turns into ridicule!

  -SENECA'S MORALS

  Fortunately for Alphonsus, who wished not to be known, the little inn had changed its inhabitants since he had last visited it; thus no suspicion of their being any other than common travellers was entertained by the landlord when they entered his dwelling.

  Shortly after their arrival Alphonsus took occasion to lead to the subject on which his thoughts were unremittingly bent.

  "That's a fine castle that stands about a league from hence," said he, addressing his host.

  "Yes, sir," was the answer.

  "Who inhabits it?"

  "Nobody."

  "To whom does it belong?"

  "To the Cohenburg family."

  "And why do they not reside in it?"

  "Ah, sir! they are all dead but one poor gentleman, the brother of him that used to live there, and he can no where find rest for his guilty mind: folks say he is gone into a monastery to repent of his sins, and make his peace with heaven."

  "Of what crime is he accused?"

  "Why, sir, I have not lived here long, but as I have heard people say, count Frederic, the youngest brother, he that I now speak of, and who used to live in a handsome mansion about a league from hence to the left, and which is now inhabited by one count Radvelt, was so jealous of his brother's castle and riches, that he had him murdered by assassins in the Wolf's Wood, in his return home to his castle, from Vienna; and then killed his brother's wife and son with his own hand. The matter was pretty well hushed up at first; it was given out that the countess had died of grief for the loss of her husband, and that her son had killed himself in a fit of madness: nobody much believed it, but as nobody had any proofs to the contrary, nothing durst be said; but the villain soon betrayed himself, for he staid at the castle but two or three days, and then went no one knows whither."

  "And did he leave nobody in the castle?"

  "No, sir, nobody; people do tell strange stories that it is haunted, and that he was frightened away by the ghost of the murdered count; and some say, that a bell is tolled by it every night at midnight."

  "I have a strange curiosity to visit this castle."

  "You had better not, sir."

  "Why so, friend?"

  "Why, sir, people think that the reason of the ghost's ringing the bell is, that it is shut up by priestcraft within the walls of the castle, and prevented from coming out; and that it tolls the bell to call somebody in, that it may reveal the murder of its body to them, and frighten them into promising to revenge its death. Nobody goes near the castle on that account."

  Alphonsus pretended to smile at the tale related by his host, but it had an effect on his feelings which he could ill conceal: all his efforts to coerce the wish of immediately gratifying his curiosity he found to be in vain, and he declared to the count and Lauretta, that he felt an impulse he could not resist, to certify himself that night as to the tolling of the bell: in vain did they remonstrate, and endeavour to prevail with him not to leave the inn until the morning; but there was a resolute and anxious wildness in his countenance to follow the impulse he had described, which seemed to bid defiance to every objection.

  The tears however of Lauretta, whose alarm was raised, she could hardly express on what account, to a pitch of agony, at the idea of Alphonsus that night approaching the castle, brought him to consent to defer his visit to the following day, on condition that if he could gain no light on the mystery which occupied his mind by traversing the castle, and examining his father's cabinet, she would not object to their there taking up their abode, which he declared would be an alleviation of his sorrows and perplexities.

  After a sleepless night, Alphonsus rose to an uneasy morn; every the most minute circumstance attendant on the mystery wherein his happiness was involved, had been turned over in his thoughts during the night; and as heretofore, instead of deriving any clue of elucidation from reflection, the mystery had only thickened upon increased conjecture.

  Again he felt scruples arising in his mind against opposing the injunction laid on him by his mother: again his doubts were lulled by the secrecy he had vowed to maintain, relative to any discovery he might make in the castle, which, notwithstanding the strong impulse he felt to visit it, reason seemed to contradict he should do; and then again he felt a momentary fear, for which he shuddered to account, that a snare might be spread for taking his life if he returned to the castle.

  Judging it however most consistent with the faith he owed himself to go alone to the castle, he avowed his intention to his Lauretta, and resigning her after a fond embrace to the care of her father till his return, he departed, followed by the eyes of Lauretta till the intervening branches of the trees shut him from her sight.

  Alphonsus rode swiftly forward, lost in a maze of fluctuating thought; at length taking a turn of the well-known road, Cohenburg castle burst full upon his sight; he beheld it with mingled sensations of melancholy pleasure, and awful apprehension. Crossing the moat, he proceeded to the stable from whence he had taken his steed on the morning on which he had last departed from the castle: fond remembrance was hasty to contrast the present gloom of desertion with former scenes of happier aspect;—recollection became too painful to be constrained, and burst its way from his eyes in burning drops of sorrow.

  Having left his steed in the stable, he proceeded to the castle-gate; it was locked, and bade defiance to his repeated efforts to open it: he next attempted the postern-gate, it in like manner resisted his endeavours. He ran round the castle, gazing upon it in every part, and trying to recollect some window by which he might effect his entrance; he would not trust to recollection for believing them all too high, and too strongly barricaded to favour his attempts, but examined every one separately in the circuit of the castle.

  Tortured by having his attempts thus baffled, he threw himself upon the ground in despair; in a few minutes, however, recollecting that inactivity could add little to forward his wishes, he rose from his situation, resolving to return to the inn, and ask advice of count Byroff how to proceed in his present dilemma. Once again he exerted his utmost endeavours to open the two gates, but they proved equally vain with his former efforts; he mounted his steed and returned to the inn.

  Alphonsus immediately related his adventure, and opened a consultation with the count, on what steps were the best to be taken by him.

  "Much deliberation," the count said, "seemed to be required on a subject of so delicate a nature: the gates of the castle being locked might be construed into an indication either of its being inhabited, or not being inhabited. If it was inhabited, the prevalent idea of its being deserted plainly proved it was the shelter of some person who wished to live in obscurity, and would, from this motive, perhaps, revenge the entrance of any one who dared to trespass on his retirement."

  "How can he wish to live unknown?" cried Alphonsus, "who every night publicly announces his dwelling by tolling the castle bell?"

  "Have you any proof of this?" said the count.

  "The young miner, and now again our landlord, both assert that it is so."

  "But they never heard it; nor likely any one who trembles while he relates it, has any authority for it but the dream of some old woman, who having talked all day of the occurrences at the castle, had seen them in her sleep in aggravated colours."

  "I will certify myself in this point," returned Alphonsus, "before I proceed to any measures for entering the castle; I will watch the tolling of the bell this night."

  After promising Lauretta that he would use no means for entering the castle that night, she consented that he should watch on the outside, in order to learn the truth of the story which had been related of the midnight bell, provided her father accompanied him; but as Alphonsus declared that he could not leave her at the inn with satisfaction to him
self, unless the count remained with her, it was at length agreed that Jacques Perlet should be the companion of Alphonsus on his nightly expedition.

  As Alphonsus was well aware that his going out in the night could not fail being known by the host, and excite his curiosity, he determined to inform him, that he meant to go and listen for the tolling of the singular bell he had mentioned to be sounded every night at the castle; the host, unsuspicious that Alphonsus meant more than his words conveyed, endeavoured to dissuade him from his purpose by all the arguments of blind superstition, and vulgar fear; and finding him resolute in his purpose, besought him to wear a little cross on his expedition, which, he said, "had belonged to his deceased wife, and which having been kissed by the pope, would secure him from the influence of the devil, and his fiends."

  To avoid the imputation of obstinacy and irreligion, Alphonsus accepted the offer of the sacred cross, and placed it within his waistcoat.

  At a little after ten Alphonsus and Jacques set out for the castle on foot.

  Where flesh and blood were to be contended with by day-light, Jacques was no coward, but a breath of wind, or a shadow in a dark night, were great settlers of his valour. Count Byroff knowing his disposition, had not made him acquainted with any of the particulars which constituted Alphonsus' curiosity in regard to the bell which was sounded at the old castle; and as he fortunately had not heard of any dreadful appearance which had been seen in the vicinity of this building, he endeavoured all the way to keep up his courage by repeating to himself, "that the sound of a bell in the night could be no more than the sound of a bell in the day."