Hugues-le-Loup. English

by Erckmann-Chatrian

  CHAPTER IV.

  Daylight was beginning to tinge with bluish grey the only window in mydungeon tower when I was roused out of my niche in the granite by theprolonged distant notes of a hunting horn.

  There is nothing more sad and melancholy than the wail of this instrumentwhen the day begins to struggle with the night--when not a sigh nor asound besides comes to molest the solitary reign of silence; it isespecially the last long note which spreads in widening waves over theimmensity of the plain beneath, awaking the distant, far-off echoesamongst the mountains, that has in it a poetic element that stirs up thedepths of the soul.

  Leaning upon my elbow in my bear-skin I lay listening to the plaintivesound, which suggested something of the feudal ages. The contemplation ofmy chamber, the ancient den of the Wolf of Nideck, with its low, darkarch, threatening almost to come down to crush the occupant; and furtheron that small leaden window, just touching the ceiling, more wide thanhigh, and deeply recessed in the wall, added to the reality of theimpression.

  I arose quickly and ran to open the window wide.

  Then presented itself to my astonished eyes such a wondrous spectacle asno mortal tongue, no pen of man, can describe--the wide prospect that theeagle, the denizen of the high Alps, sweeps with his far reaching kenevery morning at the rising of the deep purple veil that overhung thehorizon by night mountains farther off! mountains far away! and yet againin the blue distance--mountains still, blending with the grey mists ofthe morning in the shadowy horizon!--motionless billows that sink intopeace and stillness in the blue distance of the plains of Lorraine. Suchis a faint idea of the mighty scenery of the Vosges, boundless forests,silver lakes, dazzling crests, ridges, and peaks projecting their clearoutlines upon the steel-blue of the valleys clothed in snow. Beyond this,infinite space!

  Could any enthusiasm of poet or skill of painter attain the sublimeelevation of such a scene as that?

  I stood mute with admiration. At every moment the details stood outmore clearly in the advancing light of morning; hamlets, farm-houses,villages, seemed to rise and peep out of every undulation of the land. Alittle more attention brought more and more numerous objects into view.

  I had leaned out of my window rapt in contemplation for more than aquarter of an hour when a hand was laid lightly upon my shoulder; Iturned round startled, when the calm figure and quiet smile of Gideonsaluted me with--

  "Guten Tag, Fritz! Good morning!"

  Then he also rested his arms on the window, smoking his short pipe. Heextended his hand and said--

  "Look, Fritz, and admire! You are a son of the Black Forest, and you mustadmire all that. Look there below; there is Roche Creuse. Do you see it?Don't you remember Gertrude? How far off those times seem now!"

  Sperver brushed away a tear. What could I say?

  We sat long contemplating and meditating over this grand spectacle. Fromtime to time the old poacher, noticing me with my eyes fixed upon somedistant object, would explain--

  "That is the Wald Horn; this is the Tiefenthal; there's the fall of theSteinbach; it has stopped running now; it is hanging down in greatfringed sheets, like the curtains over the shoulder of the Harberg--acold winter's cloak! Down there is a path that leads to Fribourg; in afortnight's time it will be difficult to trace it."

  Thus our time passed away.

  I could not tear myself away from so beautiful a prospect. A few birdsof prey, with wings hollowed into a graceful curve sharp-pointed at eachend, the fan-shaped tail spread out, were silently sweeping round therock-hewn tower; herons flew unscathed above them, owing their safetyfrom the grasp of the sharp claws and the tearing beak to the elevationof their flight.

  Not a cloud marred the beauty of the blue sky; all the snow had fallen toearth; once more the huntsman's horn awoke the echoes.

  "That is my friend Sebalt lamenting down there," said Sperver. "He knowseverything about horses and dogs, and he sounds the hunter's horn betterthan any man in Germany. Listen, Fritz, how soft and mellow the notesare! Poor Sebalt! he is pining away over monseigneur's illness; he cannothunt as he used to do. His only comfort is to get up every morning atsunrise on to the Altenberg and play the count's favourite airs. Hethinks he shall be able to cure him that way!"

  Sperver, with the good taste of a man who appreciates beautiful scenery,had offered no interruption to my contemplations; but when, my eyesdazzled and swimming with so much light, I turned round to the darknessof the tower, he said to me--

  "Fritz, it's all right; the count has had no fresh attack."

  These words brought me back to a sense of the realities of life.

  "Ah, I am very glad!"

  "It is all owing to you, Fritz."

  "What do you mean? I have not prescribed yet."

  "What signifies? You were there; that was enough."

  "You are only joking, Gideon! What is the use of my being present ifI don't prescribe?"

  "Why, you bring him good luck!"

  I looked straight at him, but he was not even smiling!

  "Yes, Fritz, you are just a messenger of good; the last two years thelord had another attack the next day after the first, then a third anda fourth. You have put an end to that. What can be clearer?"

  "Well, to me it is not so very clear; on the contrary, it is veryobscure."

  "We are never too old to learn," the good man went on. "Fritz, there aremessengers of evil and there are messengers of good. Now that rascalKnapwurst, he is a sure messenger of ill. If ever I meet him as I amgoing out hunting I am sure of some misadventure; my gun misses fire, orI sprain my ankle, or a dog gets ripped up!--all sorts of mischief come.So, being quite aware of this, I always try and set off at earlydaybreak, before that author of mischief, who sleeps like a dormouse, hasopened his eyes; or else I slip out by a back way by the postern gate.Don't you see?"

  "I understand you very well, but your ideas seem to me very strange,Gideon."

  "You, Fritz," he went on, without noticing my interruption, "you area most excellent lad; Heaven has covered your head with innumerableblessings; just one glance at your jolly countenance, your frank, cleareyes, your good-natured smile, is enough to make any one happy. Youpositively bring good luck with you. I have always said so, and now wouldyou like to have a proof?"

  "Yes, indeed I should. It would be worth while to know how much there isin me without my having any knowledge of it."

  "Well," said he, grasping my wrist, "look down there!"

  He pointed to a hillock at a couple of gunshots from the castle.

  "Do you see there a rock half-buried in the snow, with a ragged bush byits side?"

  "Quite well."

  "Do you see anything near?"

  "No."

  "Well, there is a reason for that. You have driven away the Black Plague!Every year at the second attack there she was holding her feet betweenher hands. By night she lighted a fire; she warmed herself and boiledroots. She bore a curse with her. This morning the very first thing whichI did was to get up here. I climbed up the beacon tower; I looked wellall round; the old hag was nowhere to be seen. I shaded my eyes with myhand. I looked up and down, right and left, and everywhere; not a sign ofthe creature anywhere. She had scented you evidently."

  And the good fellow, in a fit of enthusiasm, shook me warmly by the hand,crying with unchecked emotion--

  "Ah, Fritz, how glad I am that I brought you here! The witch _will_ besold, eh?"

  Well, I confess I felt a little ashamed that I had been all my lifesuch a very well-deserving young man without knowing anything of thecircumstance myself.

  "So, Sperver," I said, "the count has spent a good night?"

  "A very good one."

  "Then I am very well pleased. Let us go down."

  We again traversed the high parapet, and I was now better able to examinethis way of access, the ramparts of which arose from a prodigious depth;and they were extended along the sharp narrow ridge of the rock down tothe very bottom of the valley. It was a long flight of jagged precipitous
steps descending from the wolf's den, or rather eagle's nest, down to thedeep valley below.

  Gazing down I felt giddy, and recoiling in alarm to the middle of theplatform, I hastily descended down the path which led to the mainbuilding.

  We had already traversed several great corridors when a great open doorstood before us. I looked in, and descried, at the top of a doubleladder, the little gnome Knapwurst, whose strange appearance hadstruck me the night before.

  The hall itself attracted my attention by its imposing aspect. It wasthe receptacle of the archives of the house of Nideck, a high, dark,dusty apartment, with long Gothic windows, reaching from the angle ofthe ceiling to within a couple of yards from the floor.

  There were collected along spacious shelves, by the care of the oldabbots, not only all the documents, title-deeds, and family genealogiesof the house of Nideck, establishing their rights and their alliances,and connections with all the great historic families of Germany, butbesides these there were all the chronicles of the Black Forest, thecollected works of the old Minnesinger, and great folio volumes from thepresses of Gutenberg and Faust, entitled to equal veneration on accountof their remarkable history and of the enduring solidity of theirbinding. The deep shadows of the groined vaults, their arches divided bymassive ribs, and descending partly down the cold grey walls, remindedone of the gloomy cloisters of the Middle Ages. And amidst thesecharacteristic surroundings sat an ugly dwarf on the top of his ladder,with a red-edged volume upon his bony knees, his head half-buried in arough fur cap, small grey eyes, wide misshapen mouth, humps on back andshoulders, a most uninviting object, the familiar spirit--the rat,as Sperver would have it--of this last refuge of all the learningbelonging to the princely race of Nideck.

  But a truly historical importance belonged to this chamber in the longseries of family portraits, filling almost entirely one side of theancient library. All were there, men and women; from Hugh the Wolf toYeri-Hans, the present owner; from the first rough daub of barbaroustimes to the perfect work of the best modern painters.

  My attention was naturally drawn in that direction.

  Hugh I., a bald-headed figure, seemed to glare upon you like a wolfstealing upon you round the corner of a wood. His grey bloodshot eyes,his red beard, and his large hairy ears gave him a fearful and ferociousaspect.

  Next to him, like the lamb next to the wolf, was the portrait of a ladyof youthful years, with gentle blue eyes, hands crossed on the breastover a book of devotions, and tresses of fair long silky hair encirclingher sweet countenance with a glorious golden aureola. This picture struckme by its wonderful resemblance to Odile of Nideck.

  I have never seen anything more lovely and more charming than this oldpainting on wood, which was stiff enough indeed in its outline, butdelightfully refreshing and ingenuous.

  I had examined this picture attentively for some minutes when anotherfemale portrait, hanging at its side, drew my attention reluctantly away.Here was a woman of the true Visigoth type, with a wide low forehead,yellowish eyes, prominent cheek-bones, red hair, and a nose hooked likean eagle's beak.

  That woman must have been an excellent match for Hugh, thought I, andI began to consider the costume, which answered perfectly to the energydisplayed in the head, for the right hand rested upon a sword, and aniron breastplate inclosed the figure.

  I should have some difficulty in expressing the thoughts which passedthrough my mind in the examination of these three portraits. My eyepassed from the one to the other with singular curiosity.

  Sperver, standing at the library door, had aroused the attention ofKnapwurst with a sharp whistle, which made that worthy send a glance inhis direction, though it did not succeed in fetching him down from hiselevation.

  "Is it me that you are whistling to like a dog?" said the dwarf.

  "I am, you vermin! It is an honour you don't deserve."

  "Just listen to me, Sperver," replied the little man with sublime scorn;"you cannot spit so high as my shoe!" which he contemptuously held out.

  "Suppose I were to come up?"

  "If you come up a single step I'll squash you flat with this volume!"

  Gideon laughed, and replied--

  "Don't get angry, friend; I don't mean to do you any harm; on thecontrary, I greatly respect you for your learning; but what I want toknow is what you are doing here so early in the morning, by lamplight?You look as if you had spent the night here."

  "So I have; I have been reading all night."

  "Are not the days long enough for you to read in?"

  "No; I am following out an important inquiry, and I don't mean to sleepuntil I am satisfied."

  "Indeed; and what may this very important question be?"

  "I have to ascertain under what circumstances Ludwig of Nideck discoveredmy ancestor, Otto the Dwarf, in the forests of Thuringia. You know,Sperver, that my ancestor Otto was only a cubit high--that is, a foot anda-half. He delighted the world with his wisdom, and made an honourablefigure at the coronation of Duke Rudolphe. Count Ludwig had him inclosedin a cold roast peacock, served up in all his plumage. It was at thattime one of the greatest delicacies, served up garnished all round withsucking pigs, gilded and silvered. During the banquet Otto kept spreadingthe peacock's tail, and all the lords, courtiers, and ladies of highbirth were astonished and delighted at this wonderful piece of mechanism.At last he came out, sword in hand, and shouted with a loud voice--"Longlive Duke Rudolphe!" and the cry was repeated with acclamations by thewhole table. Bernard Herzog makes mention of this event, but he hasneglected to inform us where this dwarf came from, whether he was oflofty lineage or of base extraction, which latter, however, is veryimprobable, for the lower sort of people have not so much sense as that."

  I was astounded at so much pride in so diminutive a being, yet mycuriosity prevented me from showing too much of my feelings, for he alonecould supply me with information upon the portraits that accompanied thatof Hugh Lupus.

  "Monsieur Knapwurst," I began very respectfully, "would you oblige me byenlightening me upon certain historic doubts?"

  "Speak, sir, without any constraint; on the subject of family history andchronicles I am entirely at your service. Other matters don't interestme."

  "I desire to learn some particulars respecting the two portraits on eachside of the founder of this race."

  "Aha!" cried Knapwurst with a glow of satisfaction lighting up hishideous features; "you mean Hedwige and Huldine, the two wives of HughLupus."

  And laying down his volume he descended from his ladder to speak more athis ease. His eyes glistened, and the delight of gratified vanity beamedfrom them as he displayed his vast erudition.

  When he had arrived at my side he bowed to me with ceremonious gravity.Sperver stood behind us, very well satisfied that I was admiring thedwarf of Nideck. In spite of the ill luck which, in his opinion,accompanied the little monster's appearance, he respected and boastedof his superior knowledge.

  "Sir," said Knapwurst, pointing with his yellow hand to the portraits,"Hugh of Nideck, the first of his illustrious race, married, in 832,Hedwige of Lutzelbourg, who brought to him in dowry the counties ofGiromani and Haut Barr, the castles of Geroldseck, Teufelshorn, andothers. Hugh Lupus had no issue by his first wife, who died young, in theyear of our Lord 837. Then Hugh, having become lord and owner of thedowry, refused to give it up, and there were terrible battles betweenhimself and his brothers-in-law. But his second wife, Huldine, whom yousee there in a steel breastplate, aided him by her sage counsel. It isunknown whence or of what family she came, but for all that she savedHugh's life, who had been made prisoner by Frantz of Lutzelbourg. He wasto have been hanged that very day, and a gibbet had already been set upon the ramparts, when Huldine, at the head of her husband's vassals, whomshe had armed and inspired with her own courage, bravely broke in,released Hugh, and hung Frantz in his place. Hugh had married his wifein 842, and had three children by her."

  "So," I resumed pensively, "the first of these wives was called Hedwige,and the de
scendants of Nideck are not related to her?"

  "Not at all."

  "Are you quite sure?"

  "I can show you our genealogical tree; Hedwige had no children; Huldine,the second wife, had three."

  "That is surprising to me."

  "Why so?"

  "I thought I traced a resemblance."

  "Oho! resemblance! Rubbish!" cried Knapwurst with a discordant laugh."See--look at this wooden snuff-box; in it you see a portrait of mygreat-grandfather, Hanswurst. His nose is as long and as pointed as anextinguisher, and his jaws like nutcrackers. How does that affect hisbeing the grandfather of me--of a man with finely-formed features and anagreeable mouth?"

  "Oh no!--of course not."

  "Well, so it is with the Nidecks. They may some of them be like Hedwige,but for all that Huldine is the head of their ancestry. See thegenealogical tree. Now, sir, are you satisfied?"

  Then we separated--Knapwurst and I--excellent friends.