On the Night of the Seventh Moon

  But as I sat in the room I wondered about the girl who had been so unhappy that she had decided to end her life. I imagined her beautiful, with long flaxen hair, like a girl in the fairy-tale picture book my mother had brought with her from her home. I thought of her sitting at this window awaiting the arrival of her lover and then seeing that other woman—the wife, when she herself had believed herself to be married to him.

  The despair, the wretchedness, the horror would have been overwhelming. I imagined her to have been strictly brought up. She would have believed herself to be dishonored and see the only way out of her wretchedness was to end her life.

  Sad Girda! Perhaps when anyone was as unhappy as she must have been he or she left behind them some aura of the past. Was that what people meant by haunting?

  What nonsense! It could well have been only a legend. Perhaps the girl fell from the window by accident. People like to put dramatic constructions on perfectly ordinary events.

  I decided that I would exorcise the ghost by making this a normal room so that in a short time no one would consider it any different—except perhaps more beautiful—than any other room in Klocksburg.

  The next day I brought the children up and gave them a lesson there. At first they were overawed but when they saw that it was just like an ordinary room Dagobert and Liesel forgot about the ghost. Fritz, I noticed, kept looking over his shoulder and didn’t like to move too far from my side. He was the sensitive one.

  I took them to the windows and pointed out the various landmarks giving them their English names. This was always a good way of getting them to learn and I really was becoming quite pleased with their progress. Fritz was by far the best, which pleased me because I thought it would give him the confidence he needed. Liesel was quite a fair mimic and although she couldn’t always remember words her pronunication was good. Dagobert lagged a little but there again I decided that would do him no harm; he really was a little braggart.

  When I was alone with Fritz and we were in the schoolroom I said to him: “Fritz, there’s nothing to be afraid of in the turret room.”

  A puzzled frown appeared between his eyes. He said: “A lady jumped out of the window.”

  “That’s just a story.”

  “You mean it never happened?”

  “It might have done but we can’t be sure.”

  He shook his head. “A lady did jump,” he said. He looked at me as though wondering whether he could trust me.

  “Yes, Fritz,” I said tenderly.

  “I think it was my mother.”

  “No Fritz. If it did happen it happened long ago. It couldn’t possibly have been your mother.”

  “She died,” he said.

  “Unfortunately some people do die young . . . but never mind, you have Frau Graben; you have your father and now you have me.”

  I felt very moved because he gripped my hand rather tightly and nodded. I was touched to think that already I meant something to him.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” I said. “It’s only a story, you know. It may well not be true and if it is, it happened years and years ago.”

  I had an idea that although he was comforted by my presence he didn’t really believe that.

  FOUR

  Dagobert’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “There’s going to be a stag hunt,” he told me. “We’re to go. It’s exciting. Bang. Bang.”

  “You’re to go to hunt stag?”

  “This is a special one. My father will be there.”

  I turned to Fritz. “Are you going?”

  Fritz didn’t answer and Dagobert shouted: “Of course he’s going. Liesel isn’t. She’s too little.”

  Liesel set up a wail.

  “She can go in my place,” said Fritz.

  “She can’t,” cried Dagobert. “Because you’re frightened that doesn’t make her old enough.”

  “I’m not frightened,” said Fritz.

  “You are!”

  “I’m not!”

  “You are, you are, you are, you are!” Dagobert was dancing round Fritz like some irritating dervish. Fritz hit out at him.

  “Please, stop,” I said. “It is most impolite to fight in front of your English teacher.”

  Dagobert paused and said: “Would it be impolite to fight behind your back, miss?”

  “You are being a little impertinent, Dagobert,” I said, “which is equally impolite. Now stop being foolish. Where is this stag hunt to be held?”

  “In the forest where the stags are.”

  “In the Klocksburg forest?”

  “No, in the ducal forest.”

  “Do you mean to say that you boys are going to join the hunt?”

  Dagobert tittered, and Fritz said: “It’s a different sort of hunt, miss. They are all together lots of them and they come in and they’re shot dead and . . .”

  “Bang, bang, bang!” said Dagobert.

  I could see that I could not get from them what I wanted to hear so I went along to Frau Graben.

  She was seated in an armchair holding a basin in her hand; she smiled at me when I entered. On the table beside her was a piece of spiced cake such as I had discovered she loved and which she kept in a tin in the cupboard in this room with various other food to take out at odd moments. She rarely sat down to a meal I had discovered but was nibbling titbits throughout the day.

  She set down the basin as I entered and I couldn’t help seeing what was in it. Not the soup I had expected but two spiders. She saw my astonishment and gave her fat comfortable laugh.

  “I like to put them in together and see what they do,” she said. “They’re scouting round at the moment. Don’t know what to make of it. There they are in this strange white world. They’ll fight, I shouldn’t wonder. One will kill the other.”

  “But why . . .” I said.

  “I like to see what they’ll do. You put them together, you see how they take it. Spiders are interesting. The way they weave their webs . . . beautiful things webs. One day I saw a fight between a great bumblebee and a big spider.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement. “The bee was caught in the web and you should have seen that spider get to work; he wrapped up the bee in his sticky thread but the bee was too strong and the web wouldn’t hold him. He tore himself away and flew off clutching the spider. I often wonder what happened to them. It’s like people. You put them down somewhere with someone else and you see what happens. But I’m being a silly old woman. I’m afraid I’m often that. Now you’re a nice kind young lady and you’re going to say I’m not, but you don’t know me, dear, do you? And you are a bit surprised at my spiders, aren’t you? Never mind.” She smiled comfortably. “You see, dear Miss Trant, I’m so interested in everybody—yes everybody—even the spiders.”

  I said: “The boys say they are going stag hunting, is that true?”

  “It’s a form of hunt. You’ll see, because you’re to go with them.”

  “I go to a hunt . . .”

  “It’s not chasing the stag. You’ll see what it is. The Count wants the boys to go. It’s tomorrow. It’s the shooting festival. It’s a pity the Prince won’t be home for it. He always enjoyed the Schützenfest.”

  “What shall I be expected to do?”

  “Nothing. You’ll just be there to look after the boys. You’ll love the procession. It’s pretty. We’re very fond of these occasions here.”

  “So it isn’t chasing after the stag?”

  “There’s no chasing. Those boys will tell their tales.”

  She was smiling her simple happy smile, which was meant to assure me that everything was well.

  The next morning we set out for the shooting festival. I could get little sense out of the boys. Dagobert was too excited and kept running around shouting bang and killing, I supposed, imaginary stags. Fritz was silent, a little apprehensive.

  As we were not coming home for food Frau Graben had told us we must stop at one of the inns in the town where we were to leave our horses. Here the very pretty innkeep
er’s daughter served us with a sort of cider ale, a long cool drink and what was called a Schinkenbrot which was several slices of boiled bacon on thickish brown bread and butter.

  As we were eating crowds began to fill the oberer Stadtplatz; wagons decorated with flowers trundled in from the surrounding country and in them sat the girls in their black skirts and yellow satin aprons. The men walked beside the wagons dressed in various colorful costumes, reds, blues, blacks, and yellows, calling to the girls as they walked. Some were on horseback; there were fiddlers to provide music, and some were singing.

  Dagobert said that we were to go to the Schützenhaus without delay because we must be there before the procession came in. There was a special place which his father had said was to be kept for us.

  Dagobert led the way and we came to a building near the town hall. As we entered a man in uniform approached us; he evidently knew the boys because he led us to seats near a platform where we sat down.

  We could hear the sounds of the band and singing as the procession was coming nearer. Dagobert kept looking at me to see how impressed I was. Now the hall began to fill with people. Tall men each carrying a rifle were then led in by a man in a green doublet. Dagobert whispered to me that he was the Schützen König. He was elected each year for his skill with his rifle and for the whole year he was king; and the medals he wore on his green doublet were given to him by the kings of other years. Into the hall began to file representatives from the surrounding villages all come to see the shooting contest. Although the men and women in their colorful costumes kept crowding in, the center of the hall and the space at one end opposite the dais were kept clear. In this space was a pole on which what appeared to be a bird was set up.

  Fritz whispered that it was not a real bird; it was made of wood and the feathers had been stuck on. There was a new bird every year for the Schützenfest.

  Now there was a great fanfare of trumpets because the ducal party was about to arrive. I was very excited. I should see the Count the children’s father who, through them, had become a legendary figure to me. I noticed the effect the sound of the trumpets had on them. They sat in awed silence beside me.

  Then a door which I had not noticed before was flung open. Two heralds came in—boys of about fourteen in the blue and gold which I knew to be the colors of the ducal livery. As they blew a fanfare on their trumpets all the people in the hall rose to their feet. The Duke entered. I recognized him at once as the man whose picture I had seen all those years ago. Even the cloak about him was the same as in the picture. It was of blue velvet lined with miniver. Immediately behind him were a man and two women. I felt my heart begin to hammer; the room swung round me, and for a moment I was afraid that I would faint. I had thought in that moment that I had found Maximilian. The man was like him . . . the same height, the same build. But it was not he. I had been mistaken. I had known him so well during those three days that every detail of his face was familiar to me, engraved on my memory forever. I should never, never forget . . . nor could I mistake anyone else for him for more than a second or two. What I had seen was only a resemblance. But it was undoubtedly there. And one of the women who was with him reminded me of Ilse, though as I looked closer I saw that the similarity was by no means as marked as that between the Count and Maximilian.

  This was like one of my dreams, I was going to wake up in a moment. The hall had suddenly become unbearably hot but I was shivering. I felt Fritz gripping my hand. I returned the pressure and took comfort. I was not dreaming.

  I looked at the boys; their eyes were fixed on the man whom I had momentarily mistaken for Maximilian. I had realized at once that he was the Duke’s nephew and their father.

  I thought then: I’m just imagining this. There is a slight resemblance, nothing more, and because above all things I want to see Maximilian again I see him in this man because he has the same haughty demeanor and is of similar height and build.

  The ducal group had taken their seats on the dais. I kept staring at the Count. Now I could see the differences. He was a little darker than Maximilian; his complexion was more ruddy; his expression was different; there was a touch of cruelty in his expression which I had never seen in Maximilian’s. Had it been there though? And had I refused to see it? This man had not the humorous expression which I had found so charming in Maximilian. His nose was longer, his mouth thinner. No, there was a strong resemblance but it was growing less the more I saw of him. And the woman who was with him—faintly like Ilse, yes, but that was all.

  Dagobert gave me a fleeting look. I knew he wanted me to admire his father. I whispered: “Who is the lady now sitting beside the Duke?”

  “The Prince’s wife Princess Wilhelmina.”

  “Where is the Prince?”

  “He is not here. My father’s his cousin and he’s taking his place while he is away.”

  I nodded.

  The ceremony started, the object being to find the best shot of the year. The Schützen König of last year led the competitors in and presented them to the Duke; they then began to shoot at the wooden bird, in order to bring it off the perch.

  The shots rang out as one by one the attempts were made. Only two of the contestants succeeded in bringing it off its perch and loud applause followed these efforts; then the two had to undergo a further test and the bird was replaced. In a short time one of them was proved the victor and proclaimed the Schützen König for the next year. Up on the dais the Family congratulated him and the Schützenfest was over, but this was apparently only the beginning of the entertainment. The best was yet to come, Dagobert told me. The ducal party left the hall. As they came near us the Count looked in the boys’ direction and his glance swept over me in a manner which disturbed me and aroused my indignation. I was in a strange mood. For a few moments I had believed I had found that which I now knew I had come a long way to seek, and a bitter frustration swept over me. Perhaps that was why I felt this indignation and imagined that there was something insulting about the manner in which he gave me that cursory glance.

  “We’re going out into the forest now for the real hunt,” said Dagobert.

  “I don’t feel well,” said Fritz.

  I looked at him anxiously. “Perhaps we had better all go home.”

  “No!” cried Dagobert. “Our father would be angry. You daren’t, Fritz. You know it.”

  “Yes,” agreed Fritz, “I do.”

  “If you are not well we should go back to Klocksburg,” I said. “I will go with you and take the responsibility.”

  “I won’t go,” said Dagobert.

  “I won’t go either,” said Fritz.

  But I could see that he wanted to.

  We went to the inn where the horses had been watered and then set out from there. Many people were making their way into the forest. About half a mile in we came to a spot where a crowd had gathered and our horses were taken from us by one of the foresters. The boys seemed to be well known and the crowds parted to let us ride through. Then I saw what looked like a large tent. There were four sides of canvas round an enclosed space which was open to the sky and as we approached a man who seemed to be standing on guard lifted a flap in the canvas and we went inside the enclosure. In the center of this was a kind of pavilion which was beautifully decorated with flowers and leaves; some of these were made into garlands and wreaths and the effect was delightful.

  There were seats in the pavilion and we were assigned to three of these.

  “What is going to happen?” I whispered.

  Dagobert put his fingers to his lips but I saw that Fritz had grown pale. I knew that something was about to take place which he knew would upset him.

  I turned to speak to him but as I did so I heard the fanfare again and now others were coming into the enclosure. The Duke was not with them this time but the boys’ father and the two women—one of whom had reminded me of Ilse—were there. They led the party. Again I received that quick appraising look and instinctively I knew that that was the manner
in which he looked at every woman. I thought of the mothers of these two boys and little Liesel who had most certainly been assessed in the same way and instinctively I disliked this man who had dared raise my hopes and fill me with great joy only to let me discover that he was not the man I sought.

  Fritz had moved a little nearer to me. I reached for his hand and pressed it. Dagobert’s shining eyes were fixed on his father. All the seats in the pavilion were now occupied and the Count clapped his hands. Everyone stood up and I saw that they all had guns in their hands. Some of them standing near the canvas then let out bloodcurdling cries; the flap was lifted and numbers of stags and hinds dashed into the enclosure. I heard the rifles crack and I saw the beautiful animals stretched out on the grass; I could not bear to look. I glanced at Fritz whose eyes were tightly shut; he was swaying slightly.

  I heard my own voice then. I was unaware that I had spoken. “It’s horrible—butchery!”

  I took Fritz by the hand and drawing aside the canvas I dragged him away from the scene of the slaughter.

  I had forgotten Dagobert. My one thought was to look after Fritz whose feelings were mine. I had rarely been so shaken in my life as when I saw those innocent beautiful creatures run forward to their deaths.

  I found our horses. The man who was guarding them looked at me strangely.

  I said: “We are going back to Klocksburg. Will you go and tell Master Dagobert to come to us at once.”

  Fritz was visibly trembling as he mounted his pony; I hope I managed to hide that I was similarly disturbed. In a very short time one of the foresters came out with Dagobert. The boy looked stunned. As we rode away he said: “My father is very angry.”

  I hope I did not show my dismay. I was well aware that both boys were watching me closely—Fritz as a kind of deliverer but one in whose powers he had little confidence; Dagobert as a stranger who had behaved in a reckless manner through ignorance rather than courage.