On the Night of the Seventh Moon

  “Don’t you worry,” she said to me, “I’m going to look after you.”

  The words were comforting, but there was that glint in her eyes—something of the amusement and speculation which I had seen there when she was watching the spiders.

  The Count lost no time in coming to Klocksburg. We were in the turret room where I had made a habit of taking the children—not for the written exercises I gave them, but for our conversations. I would make them tell me about the ducal palace and then I would translate it into English. As they were greatly interested in the palace and everything that went on there, this meant that I had their full attention.

  He came in and the children all rose to their feet—the boys bowing, Liesel dropping a pretty curtsy. He waved a hand indicating that he preferred them to be seated.

  “Please continue, Miss Trant,” he said. “I want to see how the lesson progresses.”

  I was determined not to let him see how his presence disturbed me if I could help it. “Now,” I said, “there is the Watching Tower. Fritz, will you please say that in English?”

  He stammered a little but I was not displeased with the result.

  Then I asked Dagobert in English to point out the barracks and tell me who lived there. He was particularly interested in the soldiers, so I felt safe there.

  I asked Liesel to show me the big bell and tell me when it was rung.

  They stammered through and I continued with the lesson, but I can hardly say that the children were at their best. Dagobert was soon trying to show off, Fritz grew nervous, and Liesel was a little silly. The Count sat smiling superciliously. I could see that he was not impressed by the performance.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” he said, “if you want to be presented to Her Majesty Queen Victoria when she deigns to pay us another visit.”

  Dagobert said: “Is she coming again, sir?”

  “Oh come, come. She was with us a few years ago. You must not expect too much from such mighty folk. I have no doubt that Miss Trant has told you that her country is the greatest in the world and we are just a poor little state in comparison.”

  Dagobert stared open-mouthed at me and Fritz stammered: “M . . . Miss T . . . Trant didn’t tell us that. She . . . she likes our country.”

  I was touched. It was an effort to protect me.

  I said sharply: “I have not come to teach politics, Herr Count. I have come to teach English.”

  “With the natural assumption that the whole world recognizes without any prompting from its subjects the superiority of Britain.”

  “You pay us a great compliment,” I said.

  “I believe it was said you did the same to us when you allowed your Queen to take a husband from one of our Houses.”

  “It linked our countries,” I said.

  “And so great benefits were conferred.”

  “Perhaps on both sides.”

  “You are determined to be gracious.”

  “It makes social life so much more comfortable.”

  “Even when one does not say exactly what one means?”

  “I try to say what I mean.”

  “And only prevaricate for expediency. I believe that is a good old English custom.”

  “It’s frequently considered to be a diplomatic one, I believe.”

  I looked at my watch.

  “Pastor Kratz will be waiting for you,” I said to the children. They were surprised. I realized then that until the Count dismissed them we were supposed to remain where we were and Pastor Kratz could wait all morning if necessary.

  I rose. To my surprise so did the Count.

  “You speak German better than you teach English,” he said.

  “It is unwise to judge on such slight evidence,” I retorted. “My German could be better and I believe that in a few weeks your children will have quite a smattering of English.”

  I took Liesel by the hand and led her to the door. The Count followed, so the boys came on behind.

  We reached the schoolroom where Pastor Kratz was waiting. I went in to have a word with him and the Count sent the children in after me.

  When I came out he had gone.

  Encounters with him disturbed me. He was determined to be critical and yet at the same time he was interested in me. Our badinage amused him. I had always been able to hold my own in such conversations and when I was stimulated I felt these powers increase. I enjoyed my verbal battles. I had even enjoyed that one this morning for I did not think I had come out of it too badly.

  I knew what was going to happen. He was attracted by me. I must seem different from the women he would meet. I was a foreigner for one thing; he wanted to subdue me partly on this account. He had evidently been impressed by the dignity of our Queen when she visited Saxe-Coburg, Leiningen, and the surrounding states—and who would not be? Never had such a tiny person been able to display such regality. On the occasions when I had seen her I had been impressed by it—not that I had seen her often for since the death of the Prince Consort she had shut herself away and had rarely been seen by her subjects. I knew though that she had visited Germany after his death, and I could imagine the effect that unconscious royal dignity would have on a man like the Count. Moreover, she was a great Queen, with a growing Empire, and he was the nephew of the Duke of an insignificant state. How he would have reveled in her position! He would not see that it was natural acceptance of her royalty which gave her such presence.

  How did I know so much about him? But he was easy to read. And this I knew: He was planning to seduce me. He betrayed that completely. He was ready to dally a little, but it would only be for a little while. He would enjoy being repulsed at first; but not for long. I thought of those beautiful deer; the destruction of the fleetest and most difficult to ensnare would provide the greatest enjoyment. But he would soon tire of the chase. And then he would be angry. He would find fault with me. I should be dismissed. This had happened to a friend of mine—one of the girls who had been with me at the Damenstift. She was exceptionally pretty and without means. She had become a governess. The master of the house had pursued her and when she had repulsed him at first he had been intrigued; but very soon she was looking for another post and had only a very indifferent testimonial to help her.

  Life had become very uneasy since the appearance of the Count.

  In the Randhausburg there was a garden. It was rather beautiful, shut in by stubby firs and containing a lawn with a fountain and seats painted white. Here the children practiced their shooting and archery once a week. At one side was a sheer drop from the plateau but the hedge of bushy firs made it safe for even little Liesel to wander in alone. It was a favorite spot of mine and I often went there. So this morning I took some books intending to work out my next lesson, but I suppose really to brood on my situation and to wonder whether I should begin making inquiries about a position at the Damenstift.

  I was sitting with my back to the little gate which had been set up in the hedge of firs when I heard the latch click. Instinctively I knew who it was.

  “Why Miss Trant.”

  He pretended to be surprised but I knew that he had seen me come here.

  “Have you any objection to my sitting beside you,” he asked, with an irony which I pretended to ignore.

  “Please sit here if you wish.”

  “This is a pleasant garden,” he went on.

  “Very pleasant.”

  “I am glad you find it so. And what do you think of our little Klocksburg?”

  “I would hardly describe it as little.”

  “Oh but not to be compared with Windsor Castle, Buckingham Palace, and, is it Sandringham?”

  “There is such a palace and one could not really compare Klocksburg with them. They are quite dissimilar.”

  “And much more grand, eh?”

  “I find it difficult to make these comparisons. Personally I live in a small house next to a bookshop. I can assure you that is not in the least like Klocksburg either.”
r />   “A small house next to a bookshop,” he said. “But a very superior small house next to a very superior bookshop, I daresay.”

  “I found it pleasant because it was my home. It is a good bookshop too.”

  “Do you think longingly of your home, Miss Trant?”

  “Not yet. Perhaps I have not been away long enough.”

  “I fancy you have a fondness for our mountains.”

  I assured him that I had.

  The conversation was running too smoothly.

  He said: “I was interested to see that you had decided to throw open our haunted room.”

  “I thought it wiser to open it than keep it shut. Frau Graben agreed with me.”

  “It has been locked for several years, but you sweep away our traditions with an imperious wave of your English hand.”

  “I must explain about the locked room.”

  “I look forward to your explanations, Miss Trant.”

  “The room was kept locked,” I said. “Therefore it was given a certain eerie aura. I believed that if it were open the idea that it was haunted would vanish. It would be shown to be just a room—nothing more. And this is what is happening.”

  “Bravo!” he said. “St. George and the dragon—only this time we have a St. Georgiana. With her cool common sense broom she sweeps away our medieval cobwebs of superstition. That’s the case isn’t it?”

  “It was time that particular cobweb was swept away.”

  “We like our fancies you know. We are said to be so unimaginative, but are we really? You tell me, Miss Trant. You know so much about us.”

  “I must dispute that.” I had half-risen.

  “You are not going?” He said it as a question but his eyes made it a statement.

  He took my wrist and held it so firmly that I could not release it. Rather than attempt and fail I sat down.

  “Pray tell me how you came here?” he said.

  I told him about Frau Graben’s coming into the shop, how we had spoken in German because her English was not very good.

  “We grew friendly,” I said. “She thought it would be a good idea if I came out to teach the children English, so I came.”

  “What is she up to?” he murmured.

  “I think she thought it would be good for the children to speak English.”

  “English teachers are not very difficult to come by,” he mocked.

  “Frau Graben thought a native would be best to teach the language.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Well,” he said at length, “I’m glad she brought you over.”

  “I had the impression that you did not greatly admire my teaching ability.”

  “But there are some things I do admire about you.”

  “Thank you.” I rose again. “If you will excuse me.”

  “No,” he said. “I will not. I have made it very clear that I wish to talk to you.”

  “I cannot understand what we should have to talk about except the children’s progress in English and we have discussed that already.”

  “That was a not very inspiring topic,” he said. “I am sure we have greater points of interest. I find you amusing.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “That is what I call mock surprise? You know you amuse me. I see no reason why we should not become good friends.”

  “I see many reasons.”

  “What are they?”

  “Your elevated position for one thing. Aren’t you the nephew of the Duke? You have already seen that my knowledge of protocol is negligible.”

  “It is easily acquired.”

  “No doubt by those in the position to do so. As an English teacher—even though a parent of my charges is in a very exalted position—I could hardly expect noble etiquette to concern me.”

  “It could concern you if I wished it.”

  “Oh but surely that would be another breach of the social code. After all, I am not even teaching your legitimate offspring.”

  He leaned toward me. “Would you care to? It could be arranged.”

  “I am happy with the present arrangement.”

  “Your cool English airs delight me. You behave as though I am a customer in the er . . . bookshop, was it?”

  “Our encounter is not dissimilar. I have to sell my services as a teacher; you as my employer are buying them.”

  “Ours is a more lengthy transaction surely.”

  “You would be surprised how many customers come back and back again in bookshops.”

  “I think you and I are going to be on closer terms. What do you think? Or haven’t you thought about it yet?”

  “I do not have to think very long. I know that our respective positions and characters make a close acquaintance impossible.”

  He was taken slightly aback and I felt the victory was mine particularly as the gate clicked again and there stood Frau Graben smiling at us.

  “I knew you were here,” she said. “Miss Trant, Pastor Kratz wants to talk to you . . . something about changing the time of tomorrow’s lesson. Fredi, I wanted a word with you.”

  He frowned at her.

  “Oh you can frown Herr Donner,” she said. “You know I won’t have tantrums.”

  As I hurried through the gate, I saw her fat smile as she prepared to do battle with the Count. I was reminded of Hildegarde, my guardian angel of the hunting lodge.

  My thoughts were in a turmoil for the rest of the day. I knew that relentless obstinacy of men like Count Frederic. I could picture his riding through the countryside, selecting the women who took his fancy briefly. He had believed that I would be so overawed by his importance, so beguiled by his masculine charm, that I would be the next victim. If, in spite of my attitude he still believed he could overcome my resistance, he was mistaken.

  More vividly than ever there came back to me that day when Maximilian had loomed out of the mist. Could it really have been that he had been such another as this man? I was now ten years older than that girl who had been so deeply impressed, who had fallen so much in love with the hero of the forest that she had never forgotten him even though there were times when she feared he had been only another bold adventurer. Had I endowed him with the qualities of the heroes of his country’s legends? Was the picture I had treasured for so many years only one of my own painting? If ten years ago the Count had shared that adventure would I have believed him to possess those qualities with which I had endowed Maximilian?

  When I went into the schoolroom after the Count had left there was a babble of excitement among the children. They were going hunting tomorrow with the Count.

  “Who told you that?” I asked.

  “The Count did,” said Dagobert. “He is coming for us at nine o’clock.”

  Dagobert’s eyes shone with excitement but I detected a trace of apprehension. Even he was afraid that he could not match up to his father’s expectations. As for Fritz I could see that he was in a state of terror. I guessed that after what had happened in the pavilion during the slaughter of the deer, he would be expected, as his father would put it, to show his manhood. It wouldn’t surprise me if this were not the purpose of the exercise. The child sensed this I believed and was very disturbed about it.

  Liesel would not accompany them of course. She was going to watch them ride off. There would be a party of them and they were going to hunt boar, the most dangerous creatures of the forest. Boars could be really vicious, Dagobert told me.

  “My father likes hunting boar.”

  “Say it in English please, Dagobert,” I said automatically.

  That night footsteps awakened me again. Stealthily they went past my door. This time I immediately thought of Fritz. I listened to which direction they were going. It was not to the turret room this time.

  Hastily I lighted my candle, put on my slippers and wrapped my dressing gown about me. By the time I had done this I could no longer hear the footsteps. But I knew that they had descended the stairs. I went down the spiral staircase, through the narrow passage
s. A cold breeze sweeping into the fortress told me which door was open.

  I hurried to it and I saw the small figure walking steadily toward the stables.

  I ran.

  Fritz was at the stable door; he was trying to open it.

  I caught him. The blank expression of the sleepwalker was on his face.

  I took him gently by the hand and led him back to the fortress. Although it was summer and the days warm, the temperature dropped considerably at night and his hand was icily cold. I led him carefully to his room. He was shivering; his feet were chilled; he wore nothing but his nightshirt. He was murmuring something: “No . . . please no.” And there was such fear in those words that I was sure I knew what was troubling him.

  Tomorrow he was to go out hunting wild boar with his father: and he was afraid. That would explain why he had gone to the stables.

  I felt a fury against this insensitive man who did not understand that he had a son who might well be brilliant. I had immediately assessed Fritz’s mental capacity; but because of this he was imaginative in a manner which men such as the Count could not understand.

  I leaned over Fritz. I said: “It’s all right, Fritzi.”

  He opened his eyes.

  He said: “Mutter . . .” Then, “Miss . . .”

  “Hello, Fritz. Yes, I’m here.”

  “Did I walk?”

  “A little . . .”

  He began to shiver.

  I said: “It’s all right. Lots of people do it. I heard you and brought you back to bed.”

  “You heard me last time. Dagobert heard them talking about it.”

  “I’ve got a special pair of ears for you.”

  That made him laugh.

  “Tomorrow, Fritz,” I said, “you’re not going to the hunt.”

  “Did my father say . . . ?”

  “I said you’re not.”

  “You can’t, miss.”

  “Oh yes, I can,” I said. “Your feet are like ice. I’m going to put an extra blanket on. And tomorrow morning you’re to stay in bed. You’re a little chilled. And you won’t get up until it’s too late to go with the hunters.”