Hugues-le-Loup. English

  CHAPTER XII.

  An hour after the conversation with Odile, Sperver and I were ridinghard, and leaving Nideck rapidly behind us.

  The huntsman, bending forward over his horse's neck, encouraged him withvoice and action.

  He rode so fast that his tall Mecklemburger, her mane flying, tailoutstretched, and legs extended wide, seemed almost motionless, soswiftly did she cleave the air. As for my little Ardenne pony, I think hewas running right away with his rider. Lieverle accompanied us, flyingalongside of us like an arrow from the bow. A whirlwind seemed to sweepus in our headlong way.

  The towers of Nideck were far away, and Sperver was keeping ahead asusual when I shouted--

  "Halloo, comrade, pull up! Halt! Before we go any farther let us knowwhat we are about."

  He faced round.

  "Only just tell me, Fritz, is it right or is it left?"

  "No; that won't do. It is of the first importance that you should knowthe object of our journey. In short, we are going to catch the hag."

  A flush of pleasure brightened up the long sallow face of the oldpoacher, and his eyes sparkled.

  "Ha, ha!" he cried, "I knew we should come to that at last!"

  And he slipped his rifle round from his shoulder into his hand.

  This significant action roused me.

  "Wait, Sperver; we are not going to kill the Black Pest, but to take heralive!"

  "Alive?"

  "No doubt, and it will spare you a good deal of remorse perhaps if Ideclare to you that the life of this old woman is bound up with that ofyour master. The ball that hits her hits your lord."

  Sperver gazed at me in astonishment.

  "Is this really true, Fritz?"

  "Positively true."

  There was a long silence; our mounts, Fox and Rappel, tossed their headsat each other as if in the act of saluting one another, scraping up thesnow with their hoofs in congratulation upon so pleasant an expedition.Lieverle opened wide his red mouth, gaping with impatience, extending andbending his long meagre body like a snake, and Sperver sat motionless,his hand still upon his gun.

  "Well, let us try and catch her alive. We will put on gloves if we haveto touch her, but it is not so easy as you think, Fritz."

  And pointing out with extended hand the panorama of mountains which layunrolled about us like a vast amphitheatre, he added--

  "Look! there's the Altenberg, the Schneeberg, the Oxenhorn, the Rhethal,the Behrenkopf, and if we only got up a little higher we should see fiftymore mountain-tops far away, right into the Palatinate. There are rocksand ravines, passes and valleys, torrents and waterfalls, forests, andmore mountains; here beeches, there firs, then oaks, and the old womanhas got all that for her camping-ground. She tramps everywhere, and livesin a hole wherever she pleases. She has a sure foot, a keen eye, and canscent you a couple of miles off. How are you going to catch her, then?"

  "If it was an easy matter where would be the merit? I should not thenhave chosen you to take a part in it."

  "That is all very fine, Fritz. If we only had one end of her trail, whoknows but with courage and perseverance--"

  "As for her trail, don't trouble about that; that's my business."

  "Yours?"

  "Yes, mine."

  "What do you know about following up a trail?"

  "Why should not I?"

  "Oh, if you are so sure of it, and you know more about it than I do, ofcourse march on, and I'll follow!"

  It was easy to see that the old hunter was vexed that I should presume totrespass upon his special province; therefore, only laughing inwardly, Irequired no repetition of the request to lead on, and I turned sharply tothe left, sure of coming across the old woman's trail, who, after havingleft the count at the postern gate, must have crossed the plain to reachthe mountain. Sperver rode behind me now, whistling rathercontemptuously, and I could hear him now and then grumbling--

  "What is the use of looking for the track of the she-wolf in the plain?Of course she went along the forest side just as usual. But it seems shehas altered her habits, and now walks about with her hands in herpockets, like a respectable Fribourg tradesman out for a walk."

  I turned a deaf ear to his hints, but in a moment I heard him utter anexclamation of surprise; then, fixing a keen eye upon me, he said--

  "Fritz, you know more than you choose to tell."

  "How so, Gideon?"

  "The track that I should have been a week finding, you have got it atonce. Come, that's not all right!"

  "Where do you see it, then?"

  "Oh, don't pretend to be looking at your feet."

  And pointing out to me at some distance a scarcely perceptible whitestreak in the snow--

  "There she is!"

  Immediately he galloped up to it; I followed in a couple of minutes; wehad dismounted, and were examining the track of the Black Pest.

  "I should like to know," cried Sperver, "how that track came here?"

  "Don't let that trouble you," I replied.

  "You are right, Fritz; don't mind what I say; sometimes I do speak ratherat random. What we want now is to know where that track will lead us to."

  And now the huntsman knelt on the ground.

  I was all ears; he was closely examining.

  "It is a fresh track," he pronounced, "last night's. It is a strangething, Fritz, during the count's last attack that old witch was hangingabout the castle."

  Then examining with greater care--

  "She passed here between three and four o'clock this morning."

  "How can you tell that?"

  "It is quite a fresh track; there is sleet all round it. Last night,about twelve, I came out to shut the doors; there was sleet falling then,there is none upon the footsteps, therefore she has passed since."

  "That is true enough, Sperver, but it may have been made much later; forinstance, at eight or nine."

  "No, look, there is frost upon it! The fog that freezes on the snow onlycomes at daybreak. The creature passed here after the sleet and beforethe fog--that is, about three or four this morning."

  I was astonished at Sperver's exactitude.

  He rose from his knee, clapping his hands together to get rid of thesnow, and looking at me thoughtfully, as if speaking to himself, said--

  "It is twelve, is it not, Fritz?"

  "A quarter to twelve."

  "Very well; then the old woman has got seven hours' start of us. We mustfollow upon her trail step by step; on horseback we can do it in half thetime, and, if she is still going, about seven or eight to-night we havegot her, Fritz. Now then, we're off."

  And we started afresh upon the track. It led us straight to themountains.

  Galloping away, Sperver said--

  "If good luck only would have it that she had rested an hour or two in ahole in a rock, we might be up with her before the daylight is gone."

  "Let us hope so, Gideon."

  "Oh, don't think of it. The old she-wolf is always moving; she nevertires; she tramps along all the hollows in the Black Forest. We must notflatter ourselves with vain hopes. If, perhaps, she has stopped on herjourney, so much the better for us; and if she still keeps going, wewon't let that discourage us. Come on at a gallop."

  It is a very strange feeling to be hunting down a fellow-creature; for,after all, that unhappy woman was of our own kind and nature; endowedlike ourselves with an immortal soul to be saved, she felt, and thought,and reflected like ourselves. It is true that a strange perversionof human nature had brought her near to the nature of the wolf, and thatsome great mystery overshadowed her being. No doubt a wandering life hadobliterated the moral sense in her, and even almost effaced the humancharacter; but still nothing in the world can give one man a right toexercise over another the dominion of the man over the brute.

  And yet a burning ardour hurried us on in pursuit; my blood was at feverheat; I was determined to stand at no obstacle in laying hold of thisextraordinary being. A wolf-hunt or a boar-hunt would not have excited menear so much.


  The snow was flying in our rear; sometimes splinters of ice, bitten offby the horse-shoes, like shavings of iron from machinery, whizzed pastour ears.

  Sperver, sometimes with his nose in the air and his red moustachefloating in the wind, sometimes with his grey eyes intently followingthe track, reminded me of those famous Cossacks that I had seen passthrough Germany when I was a boy; and his tall, lanky horse, muscular andfull-maned, its body as slender as a greyhound's, completed the illusion.

  Lieverle, in a high state of enthusiasm and excitement, took boundssometimes as high as our horses' backs, and I could not but tremble atthe thought that when we came up at last with the Pest he might tear herin pieces before we could prevent him.

  But the old woman gave us all the trouble she could; on every hill shedoubled, at every hillock there was a false track.

  "After all, it is easy here," cried Sperver, "to what it will be in thewood. We shall have to keep our eyes open there! Do you see the accursedbeast? Here she has confused the track! There she has been amusingherself sweeping the trail, and then from that height which is exposed tothe wind she has slipped down to the stream, and has crept along throughthe cresses to get to the underwood. But for those two footsteps shewould have sold us completely."

  We had just reached the edge of a pine-forest. In woods of thisdescription the snow never reaches the ground except in the open spacesbetween the trees, the dense foliage intercepting it in its fall. Thiswas a difficult part of our enterprise. Sperver dismounted to see our waybetter, and placed me on his left so as not to be hindered by my shadow.

  Here were large spaces covered with dead leaves and the needles and conesof the fir-trees, which retain no footprint. It was, therefore, only inthe open patches where the snow had fallen on the ground that Sperverfound the track again.

  It took us an hour to get through this thicket. The old poacher bit hismoustache with excitement and vexation, and his long nose visibly bentinto a hook. When I was only opening my mouth to speak, he wouldimpatiently say--

  "Don't speak--it bothers me!"

  At last we descended a valley to the left and Gideon pointing to thetrack of the she-wolf outside the edge of the brushwood, triumphantlyremarked--

  "There is no feint in this sortie, for once. We may follow this trackconfidently."

  "Why so?"

  "Because the Pest has a habit every time she doubles of going three pacesto the right; then she retraces her steps four, five, or six in the otherdirection, and jumps away into a clear place. But when she thinks she hassufficiently disguised her trail she breaks out without troubling herselfto make any feints. There now! What did I say? Now she is burrowingbeneath the brushwood like a wild boar, and it won't be so difficult tofollow her up."

  "Well, let us put the track between us and smoke a pipe."

  We halted, and the honest fellow, whose countenance was beginning tobrighten up, looking up at me with enthusiasm, cried--

  "Fritz, if we have luck this will be one of the finest days in my life.If we catch the old hag I will strap her across my horse behind me like abundle of old rags. There is only one thing troubles me."

  "And what is that?"

  "That I forgot my bugle. I should have liked to have sounded the returnon getting near the castle! Ha, ha, ha!"

  He lighted his stump of a pipe and we galloped off again.

  The track of the she-wolf now passed on to the heights of the forest byso steep an ascent that several times we had to dismount and lead ourhorses by the bridle.

  "There she is, turning to the right," said Sperver. "In this directionthe mountains are craggy; perhaps one of us will have to lead both horseswhile the other climbs to look after the trail. But don't you think thelight is going?"

  The landscape now was assuming an aspect of grandeur and magnificence.Vast grey rocks, sparkling with long icicles, raised here and there theirsharp peaks like breakers amidst a snowy sea.

  There is nothing more sadly impressive than the aspect of winter in amountainous region. The jagged crests of the precipices, the deep, darkravines, the woods sparkling with boar-frost like diamonds, all form apicture of desertion, desolation, and unspeakable melancholy. The silenceis so profound that you hear a dead leaf rustling on the snow, or theneedle of the fir dropping to the ground. Such a silence is oppressive asthe tomb; it urges on the mind the idea of man's nothingness in thevastness of creation.

  How frail a being is man! Two winters together, without a summer between,would sweep him off the earth!

  At times we felt it a necessity to be saying something if only to showthat we were keeping up our spirits.

  "Ah, we are getting on! How fearfully cold! Lieverle, what is the matter?what have you found now?"

  Unfortunately Fox and Rappel were beginning to tire; they sank deeper inthe snow and no longer neighed joyfully.

  And added to this the endless mazes of the Black Forest wearied us too.The old woman affected this solitary region greatly; here she had trottedround a deserted charcoal-burner's hut; farther on she had torn out theroots that projected from a moss-grown rock; there she had sat at thefoot of a tree, and that very recently--not more than two hours since,for the track was quite fresh--and our hope and our ardour rose together.But the daylight was slowly fading away!

  Very strangely, ever since our departure from Nideck we had met neitherwood-cutters, nor charcoal-burners, nor timber-carriers. At this seasonthe silence and solitude of the Black Forest is as deep as that of theNorth-American steppes.

  At five o'clock it was almost dark. Sperver halted and said--

  "Fritz, my lad, we have started a couple of hours too late. The she-wolfhas had too long a start. In ten minutes it will be as dark as a dungeon.The best way would be to reach Roche Creuse, which is twenty minutes'ride from here, light a good fire, and eat our provisions and empty ourflasks. When the moon is up we will follow the trail again, and unlessthe old hag is the foul fiend himself, ten to one we shall find her deadand stiff with cold against the foot of a tree, for nothing can liveafter such a tremendous tramp in weather like this. Sebalt is the bestwalker in the Black Forest, and he would not have stood it. Come, Fritz,what is your opinion?"

  "I am not so mad as to think differently. Besides, I am perishing withhunger!"

  "Well, let us start again."

  He took the lead and passed into a close and narrow glen between twoprecipitous faces of rock. The fir-trees met over our heads; under ourfeet ran a mere thread of the stream, and from time to time some ray fromabove was dimly reflected in the depths below and glinted with a dullleaden light.

  The darkness was now such that I thought it prudent to drop my bridle onRappel's neck. The steps of our horses on the slippery gravel awokestrange discordant sounds like the screaming of monkeys at play. Theechoes from rock to rock caught up and repeated every sound, and in thedistance a tiny space of deep blue widened as we advanced; it was theissue from the glen.

  "Fritz," said Sperver, "we are in the bed of the Tunkelbach. This is thewildest spot in the Black Forest. The end is a pit called La Marmite duGrand Gueulard, the muckle-mouthed giant's kettle. In the spring, whenthe snow is melting, the Tunkelbach hurls all its waters into it, a depthof two hundred feet. There is an awful uproar; the waters dash down andthen splash up again and fall in spray on all the hills around. Sometimesit even fills the Roche Creuse, but just now it must be as dry as apowder-flask."

  Whilst I was listening to Gideon's explanations I was at the same timemeditating upon this dark and fearful glen, and I reflected that theinstinct which attracts the brutes into such retreats as these, far fromthe light of heaven, away from everything bright and cheerful, mustpartake of the nature of remorse. Those animals which love the opensunshine--the goat aloft upon a high conspicuous peak, the horse flyingacross the wide plain, the dog capering round his master, the bird bathedin sunlight--all breathe joy and happiness; they bask, and sing, andrejoice in dancing and delight. The kid nibbling the tender grass underthe shade of the grea
t trees is as poetic an object as the shelter thatit loves; the fierce boar is as rough as the tangled brakes through whichhe loves to run his huge bristly back; the eagle is as proud and lofty asthe sky-piercing crags on which he perches as his home; the lion is asmajestic as the arching vaults of the caves where he makes his den; butthe wolf, the fox, and the ferret seek the darkness that conforms totheir ugly deeds; fear and remorse dog their steps.

  I was still dreamily pursuing these thoughts, and I was beginning to feelthe keen air moving upon my face, for we were approaching the outlet ofthe gorge, when all at once a red light struck the rock a hundred feetabove us, purpling the dark green of the fir-trees and lighting up thewreaths of snow.

  "Ha!" cried Sperver, "we have got her at last!"

  My heart leaped; we stood, closely pressed, the one against the other.

  The dog growled low and deep.

  "Cannot she escape?" I asked in a whisper.

  "No; she is caught like a rat in a trap. There is no way out of LaMarmite du Grand Gueulard but this, and everywhere all round the rocksare two hundred feet high. Now, vile hag, I hold you!"

  He alighted in the ice-cold stream, handing me his bridle. I caught inthe silence the click of the lock of his gun, and that slight noise threwme into a tremor of apprehension.

  "Sperver, what are you about?"

  "Don't be alarmed; it is only to frighten her."

  "Very well, then, but no blood. Remember what I told you--the ball whichstrikes the Pest slays the count!"

  "Don't trouble yourself," was the answer.

  He went away without further parley. I could hear the splash of his feetin the water; then I saw his tall figure emerge at the opening of thedark glen, black against a purple background. He stood five minutesmotionless. Attentive, bending forward, I looked and listened, stillmoving onward. As he returned I was but a few yards from him.

  "Hark!" he whispered mysteriously. "Look there!"

  At the end of the hollow, scooped out perpendicularly like a quarry inthe mountain side, I saw a bright fire unrolling its golden spiresbeneath the vault of a cave, and before the fire sat a man with his handsclasped about his knees, whom I recognised by his dress as the Baron deZimmer-Bluderich.

  He sat motionless, his forehead resting between his hands. Behind him laya dark gaunt form extended on the ground. Farther on, his horse, halflost in the shade, reared his neck, gazed on us with eyes fixed, earserect, and nostrils distended.

  I stood rooted to the ground.

  How did the Baron de Zimmer happen to be in that lonely wilderness atsuch a time? What did he want here? Had he lost his way?

  The most contradictory conjectures were passing in confusion through myexcited brain, and I could not tell what conclusion to arrive at, whenthe baron's horse began to neigh, and the master raised his head.

  "Well, Donner, what is the matter now?" said he.

  Then he, too, directed his gaze our way, straining his eyes through thedarkness.

  That pale face, with its strongly-marked features, thin lips, and thickblack eyebrows meeting together, and forming a deep hollow on the brow inthe form of a long vertical wrinkle, would have struck me with admirationat any other time; while now an inexplicable anxiety laid hold of me, andI was filled with vague apprehensions.

  Suddenly the young man exclaimed--

  "Who goes there?"

  "I, monseigneur," answered Sperver, coming forward--"Sperver, chiefhuntsman to the lord of Nideck."

  A flash shot from the baron's quick eye; not a muscle of his countenancequailed. He rose to his feet, gathering his pelisse over his shoulders. Idrew towards me the horses and the dog, and this animal suddenly beganhowling fearfully.

  Is not every one, more or less, subject to superstitious fears? At thesedismal sounds I trembled, and a cold shudder crept through my whole body.

  Sperver and the baron stood at a distance of fifty yards from each other;the first immovable in the midst of the deep glen, his gun unslung fromhis shoulder, the other erect upon the level platform outside of thecave, carrying his head high, fixing on us a haughty eye and a proud lookof superiority.

  "What do you want here?" he asked aggressively.

  "We are looking for a woman," replied the old poacher--"a woman who comesevery year prowling about Nideck, and our orders are to take her."

  "Has she stolen anything?"

  "No."

  "Has she committed murder?"

  "No, monseigneur."

  "Then what do you want with her? What right have you to pursue her?"

  "And you--what right have you over her?" answered Sperver with anironical smile. "See, there she is. I can see her at the bottom of thecave. What right have you to meddle with our affairs? Don't you know thatwe are here in the domains of Nideck, and that we administer justice andexecute our own decrees?"

  The young man changed colour, and said coldly--

  "I have no account to render to you."

  "Beware," replied Sperver. "I am come with proposals of peace andconciliation. I am here on behalf of the lord Yeri-Hans. I am in theexecution of my duty, and you are putting yourself in the wrong."

  "Your duty!" cried the young man bitterly. "If you talk about your dutyyou will oblige me to do mine!"

  "Well, do it!" cried the huntsman, whose features were becoming disturbedwith anger.

  "No," replied the baron, "I am not responsible to you, and you shall notcome here!"

  "That's what we shall soon see!" said Sperver, drawing nearer to thecave.

  The young man drew his hunting-knife. Perceiving this menacing action, Iwas about to dart between them, but happily the hound which I was holdingby his collar slipped from me with a violent shock and threw me on theground. I thought the baron would be lost, but at that instant a wildshriek rose from the dark bottom of the cavern, and as I rose to my feetI saw the old woman standing erect before the fire, her tattered garmentshanging loosely about her, her grey and tangled locks floating wildly inthe wind; she flung her bony arms in the air and uttered prolongedpiercing howls like the cry of agony of the hungry wolf in the long coldnights of winter when famine is gnawing his entrails.

  Never in my life have I seen a more fearful apparition. Sperver,motionless, his eyes riveted on the fearful object before him, and hismouth open with astonishment, stood as if rooted to the earth. But thepowerful dog, surprised himself at this unexpected sight, stood still fora moment; then with a bend of his bristling back in preparation for amighty leap, he made a rush with a deep, impatient growl which made metremble. The platform before the cave was about eight or nine feet fromthe level where we stood, or he would have reached it at a single bound.I can yet hear him clearing a way through the snowy brambles, the baronflinging himself before the woman with a piercing cry, "My mother!" thenthe dog taking another spring, and Sperver, quick as lightning, raisinghis gun, and bringing down the poor animal dead at the young man's feet.

  This was but the work of a second. The gulf had been illuminated with amomentary flash, and the wild echoes were vibrating with the explosionfrom rock to rock, till it died in the far distance. Then silence againsettled on the gloomy scene, as darkness after the lightning.

  When the smoke of the explosion had cleared away I saw Lieverle lyingoutstretched at the foot of the rock, and the woman fainting in the armsof the young man. Sperver, pale with concentrated rage and excitement,and eyeing the young baron darkly, dropped the butt of his gun to theground, his features discomposed, and his eyes half-hid in his gloomyfrown.

  "Seigneur de Bluderich," he cried, with his hand extended, "I have killedmy best friend to save the life of that unhappy woman, your mother! ThankGod that her life is bound up with that of the Count of Nideck! Take heraway! take her hence, and never let her return here again; if you do Icannot answer for what old Sperver may be driven to do!"

  Then, with a glance at the poor dog--

  "Oh! Lieverle, Lieverle!" he cried, "was it to end thus? Come, Fritz, letus go. I cannot stay here. I might do som
ething that I should have torepent of!"

  And, laying hold of Fox by the mane, he was going to throw himself intothe saddle, but suddenly his feelings of distress overcame all restraint,and bowing his head upon his horse's neck, he burst into sobs and tears,and wept like a child.