CHAPTER VII.
Several uneventful days followed. My life at Nideck was becoming dulland monotonous. Every morning there was the doleful bugle-call of thehuntsman, whose occupation was gone; then came a visit to the count;after that breakfast, with Sperver's interminable speculations upon theBlack Plague, the incessant gossiping and chattering of Marie Lagoutte,Maitre Tobias, and all that pack of idle servants, who had nothing to dobut eat and drink, smoke, and go to sleep. The only man who had any kindof individual existence was Knapwurst, who sat buried up to the tip ofhis red nose in old chronicles all the day long, careless of the cold solong as there was anything left to find out in his curious researches.
My weariness of all this may easily be imagined. Ten times had Spervertaken me over the stables and the kennels; the dogs were beginning toknow me. I knew by heart all the coarse pleasantries of the major-domoover his bottles and Marie Lagoutte's invariable replies. Sebalt'smelancholy was infecting me; I would gladly have blown a little on hishorn to tell the mountains of my _ennui_, and my eyes were incessantlydirected towards Fribourg.
Still the disorder of Yeri-Hans, lord of Nideck, was taking its usualcourse, and this gave my only occupation any serious interest. All theparticulars which Sperver had made me acquainted with appeared clearlybefore me; sometimes the count, waking up with a start, would half rise,and supported on his elbow, with neck outstretched and haggard eyes,would mutter, "She is coming, she is coming!"
Then Gideon would shake his head and ascend the signal-tower, but neitherright nor left could the Black Plague be discovered.
After long reflection upon this strange malady I had come to theconclusion that the sufferer was insane. The strange influence that theold hag exercised over him, his alternate phases of madness and lucidity,all confirmed me in this view.
Medical men who have given especial attention to the subject of mentalaberrations are well aware that periodical madness is of not unfrequentoccurrence. In some cases the illness appears several times in the year,in others at only particular seasons of the year. I know at Fribourg anold lady who for thirty years past has regularly presented herself at thedoor of the asylum. At her own request they place her in confinement;then the unhappy woman every night passes through the terrible scenes ofthe French Revolution, of which she was a witness in her youth. Shetrembles in the hands of the executioner; she fancies herself drenchedwith the blood of the victims; she weeps and cries aloud incessantly. Inthe course of a few weeks the mind returns to its wonted seat, and she isrestored to liberty with the full expectation that she will return againin a year.
"The Count of Nideck is suffering from a similar attack," I said;"unknown chains unite his fate with that of the Black Plague. Who cantell?" thought I; "that woman once was young, perhaps beautiful!"
And my imagination, once launched, carried me into the interestingregions of romance; but I was careful to tell no one what I thought. If Ihad opened out those conjectures to Sperver he would never have forgivenme for imagining that there could have been any intimacy between hismaster and the Black Plague; and as for Mademoiselle Odile, I dared notsuggest insanity to her.
The poor young lady was evidently most unhappy. Her refusal to marry hadso embittered the count against her that he could scarcely endure to haveher in his presence. He bitterly reproached her with her ingratitude anddisobedience, and expatiated upon the cruelty of ungrateful children.Sometimes even violent curses followed his daughter's visits. Things atlast were so bad that I thought myself obliged to interfere. I thereforewaited one evening on the countess in the antechamber and entreated herto relinquish her personal attendance upon her father. But here arose,contrary to all expectations, quite an unforeseen obstacle. In spite ofall my entreaties she steadily insisted on watching by her father andnursing him as she had done hitherto.
"It is my duty," she repeated, "and no arguments will shake my purpose,"she said firmly.
"Madam," I replied as a last effort, "the medical profession, too, hasits duties, and an honourable man must fulfil them even to harshness andcruelty; your presence is killing your father."
I shall remember all my life the sudden change in the expression of theface of Odile.
My solemn words of warning seemed to cause the blood to flow back to theheart; her face became white as marble, and her large blue eyes, fixedsteadily upon mine, seemed to read into the most secret recesses of mysoul.
"Is that possible, sir?" she stammered; "upon your honour, do you declarethis? Tell me truly!"
"Yes, madam, upon my honour."
There was a long and painful silence, only broken at last by these wordsin a low voice:--
"Let God's will be done!"
And with downcast eyes she withdrew.
The day after this scene, about eight in the morning, I was pacing up anddown in Hugh Lupus's tower, thinking of the count's illness, of which Icould not foretell the issue--and I was thinking too of my patients atFribourg, whom I might lose by too prolonged an absence--when threediscreet taps upon my door turned my thoughts into another channel.
"Come in!"
The door opened, and Marie Lagoutte stood within, dropping me a lowcurtsey.
This old dame's visit put me out, and I was going to beg her to postponeher visit, when something mysterious in her countenance caught myattention. She had thrown over her shoulders a red-and-green shawl;she was biting her lips, with her head down, and as soon as she hadclosed the door she opened it again, and peeped out, to make sure thatno one had followed her.
"What does she want with me?" I thought; "what is the meaning of allthese precautions?"
And I was quite puzzled.
"Monsieur le Docteur," said the worthy lady, advancing towards me, "I begyour pardon for disturbing you so early in the morning, but I have a veryserious thing to tell you."
"Pray tell me all about it, then."
"It is the count."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, sir; you know that I sat up with him last night."
"I know. Pray sit down."
She sat before me in a great arm-chair, and I could not help noticing theenergetic character of her head, which on the evening of my arrival atthe castle had only seemed to me grotesque.
"Doctor," she resumed after a short pause and with her dark eyes upon me,"you know I am not timid or easily frightened. I have seen so manydreadful things in the course of my life that I am astonished at nothingnow. When you have seen Marengo, Austerlitz, and Moscow, there is nothingleft that can put you out."
"I am sure of that, ma'am."
"I don't want to boast; that is not my reason for telling you this; butit is to show you that I am not an escaped lunatic, and that you maybelieve me when I tell you what I say I have seen."
This was becoming interesting.
"Well," the good woman resumed, "last night, between nine and ten, justas I was going to bed, Offenloch came in and said to me, 'Marie, you willhave to sit up with the count to-night.' At first I felt surprised.'What! is not mademoiselle going to sit up?' 'No, mademoiselle is poorly,and you will have to take her place.' Poor girl, she is ill; I knew thatwould be the end of it, I told her so a hundred times; but it is alwaysso. Young people won't believe those who are older; and then, it is herFather. So I took my knitting, said good night to Tobias, and went intomonseigneur's room. Sperver was there waiting for me, and went to bed; sothere I was, all alone."
Here the good woman stopped a moment, indulged in a pinch of snuff, andtried to arrange her thoughts. I listened with eager attention for whatwas coming.
"About half-past ten," she went on, "I was sitting near the bed, and fromtime to time drew the curtain to see what the count was doing; he made nomovement; he was sleeping as quietly as a child. It was all right untileleven o'clock, then I began to feel tired. An old woman, sir, cannothelp herself--she must drop off to sleep in spite of everything. I didnot think anything was going to happen, and I said to myself, 'He is sureto sleep till daylight.' About twelve the wind went down;
the big windowshad been rattling, but now they were quiet. I got up to see if anythingwas stirring outside. It was all as black as ink; so I came back to myarm-chair. I took another look at the patient; I saw that he had notstirred an inch, and I took up my knitting; but in a few minutes more Ibegan nodding, nodding, and I dropped right off to sleep. I could nothelp it, the arm-chair was so soft and the room was so warm, who couldhave helped it? I had been asleep an hour, I suppose, when a sharpcurrent of wind woke me up. I opened my eyes, and what do you think Isaw? The tall middle window was wide open, the curtains were drawn, andthere in the opening stood the count in his white night-dress, right onthe window-sill."
"The count?"
"Yes."
"Nay, it is impossible; he cannot move!"
"So I thought too; but that is just how I saw him. He was standing witha torch in his hand; the night was so dark and the air so still that theflame stood up quite straight."
I gazed upon Marie Anne with astonishment.
"First of all," she said, after a moment's silence, "to see that long,thin man standing there with his bare legs, I can assure you it had suchan effect upon me! I wanted to scream; but then I thought, 'Perhaps he iswalking in his sleep; if I shout he will wake up, he will jump down, andthen--' So I did not say a word, but I stared and stared till I saw himlift up his torch in the air over his head, then he lowered it, then upagain and down again, and he did this three times, just like a man makingsignals; then he threw it down upon the ramparts, shut the window, drewthe curtains, passed before me without speaking, and got into bedmuttering some words I could not make out."
"Are you sure you saw all that, ma'am?"
"Quite sure."
"Well, it is strange."
"I know it is; but it is true. Ah! it did astonish me at first, and thenwhen I saw him get into bed again and cross his hands over his breastjust as if nothing had happened, I said to myself, 'Marie Anne, you havehad a bad dream; it cannot be true;' and so I went to the window, andthere I saw the torch still burning; it had fallen into a bush near thethird gate, and there it was shining just like a spark of fire. There wasno denying it."
Marie Lagoutte looked at me a few moments without speaking.
"You may be sure, doctor, that after that I had no more sleep; I satwatching and ready for anything. Every moment I fancied I could hearsomething behind the arm-chair. I was not afraid--it was not that--butI was uneasy and restless. When morning came, very early I ran and wokeOffenloch and sent him to the count. Passing down the corridor I noticedthat there was no torch in the first ring, and I came down and found itnear the narrow path to the Schwartzwald; there it is!"
And the good woman took from under her apron the end of a torch, whichshe threw upon the table.
I was confounded.
How had that man, whom I had seen the night before feeble and exhausted,been able to rise, walk, lift up and close down that heavy window? Whatwas the meaning of that signal by night? I seemed to myself to witnessthis strange, mysterious scene, and my thoughts went off at once to theBlack Plague. When I aroused myself from this contemplation of my ownthoughts, I saw Marie Lagoutte rising and preparing to go.
"You have done quite right," I said as I took her to the door, "to tellme of these things, and I am much obliged to you. Have you told any oneelse of this adventure?"
"No one, sir; such things are only to be told to the priest and thedoctor."
"Come, I see you are a very wise, sensible woman."
These words were exchanged at the door of my tower. At this momentSperver appeared at the end of the gallery, followed by his friendSebalt.
"Fritz!" he shouted, "I have got news to tell you."
"Oh, come!" thought I, "more news! This is a strange condition ofthings."
Marie Lagoutte had disappeared, and the huntsman and his friend enteredthe tower.