A Night on the Borders of the Black Forest. Edwards Amelia Ann Blanford

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СКАЧАТЬ noisy, exchanging boisterous greetings with every passer-by, singing snatches of songs, and laughing incessantly. Then, as the dusk deepened and we left the last stragglers behind, they sank into a tipsy stupor, and ended by falling fast asleep.

      Meanwhile, the driver lit his pipe and let his tired horses choose their own pace; the stars came out one by one overhead; and the road, leaving the dead level of the plain, wound upwards through a district that became more hilly with every mile.

      Then I also fell asleep – I cannot tell for how long – to be waked by-and-by by the stopping of the charrette, and the voice of the driver, saying: —

      "This is the nearest point to which I can take these Herren. Will they be pleased to alight?"

      I sat up and rubbed my eyes. It was bright starlight. Bergheim was already leaning out, and opening the door. Our fellow-travellers were still sound asleep. We were in the midst of a wild, hilly country, black with bristling pine-woods; and had drawn up at an elevated point where four roads meet.

      "Which of these are we to take?" asked Bergheim, as he pulled out his purse and counted the stipulated number of florins into the palm of the driver.

      The man pointed with his whip in a direction at right angles to the road by which he was himself driving.

      "And how far shall we have to walk?"

      "To Rotheskirche?"

      "Yes – to Rotheskirche."

      He grunted doubtfully. "Ugh!" he said, "I can't be certain to a mile or so. It may be twelve or fourteen."

      "A good road?"

      "Yes – a good road; but hilly. These Herren have only to keep straight forward. They cannot miss the way."

      And so he drives off, and leaves us standing in the road. The moon is now rising behind a slope of dark trees – the air is chill – an owl close by utters its tremulous, melancholy cry. Place and hour considered, the prospect of twelve or fourteen miles of a strange road, in a strange country, is anything but exhilarating. We push on, however, briskly; and Bergheim, whose good spirits are invincible, whistles and chatters, and laughs away as gaily as if we were just starting on a brilliant May morning.

      "I wonder if you were ever tired in your life!" I exclaim by and by, half peevishly.

      "Tired!" he echoes. "Why, I am as tired at this moment as a dog; and would gladly lie down by the roadside, curl myself up under a tree, and sleep till morning. I wonder, by the way, what o'clock it is."

      I pulled out my fusee-box, struck a light, and looked at my watch. It was only ten o'clock.

      "We have been walking," said Bergheim, "about half an hour, and I don't believe we have done two miles in the time. Well, it can't go on uphill like this all the way!"

      "Impossible," I replied. "Rotheskirche is on the level of the river. We must sooner or later begin descending towards the valley of the Neckar."

      "I wish it might be sooner, then," laughed my companion, "for I had done a good twenty miles to-day before you overtook me."

      "Well, perhaps we may come upon some place half way. If so, I vote that we put up for the night, and leave Rotheskirche till the morning."

      "Ay, that would be capital!" said he. "If it wasn't that I am as hungry as a wolf, I wouldn't say no to the hut of a charcoal-burner to-night."

      And now, plodding on more and more silently as our fatigue increased, we found the pine-forests gradually drawing nearer, till by and by they enclosed us on every side, and our road lay through the midst of them. Here in the wood, all was dark – all was silent – not a breath stirred. The moon was rising fast; but the shadows of the pines lay long and dense upon the road, with only a sharp silvery patch breaking through here and there. By and by we came upon a broad space of clearing, dotted over with stacks of brushwood and great symmetrical piles of barked trunks. Then followed another tract of close forest. Then our road suddenly emerged into the full moonlight, and sometimes descending abruptly, sometimes keeping at a dead level for half a mile together, continued to skirt the forest on the left.

      "I see a group of buildings down yonder," said Bergheim, pointing to a spot deep in the shadow of the hillside.

      I could see nothing resembling buildings, but he stuck to his opinion.

      "That they are buildings," he said, "I am positive. More I cannot tell by this uncertain light. It may be a mere cluster of cottages, or it may be a farmhouse, with stacks and sheds close by. I think it is the latter."

      Animated by this hope, we now pushed on more rapidly. For some minutes our road carried us out of sight of the spot; but when we next saw it, a long, low, white-fronted house and some other smaller buildings were distinctly visible.

      "A mountain farmstead, by all the gods of Olympus!" exclaimed Bergheim, joyously. "This is good fortune! And they are not gone to bed yet, either."

      "How do you know that?" I asked.

      "Because I saw a light."

      "But suppose they do not wish to take us in?" I suggested.

      "Suppose an impossibility! Who ever heard of inhospitality among our Black Forest folk?"

      "Black Forest!" I repeated. "Do you call this the Black Forest?"

      "Undoubtedly. All these wooded hills south of Heidelberg and the Odenwald are outlying spurs and patches of the old legendary Schwarzwald – now dwindling year by year. Hark! the dogs have found us out already!"

      As he spoke, a dog barked loudly in the direction of the farm; and then another, and another. Bergheim answered them with a shout. Suddenly a bright light flashed across the darkness – flitted vaguely for a moment to and fro, and then came steadily towards us; resolving itself presently into a lanthorn carried by a man.

      We hurried eagerly to meet him – at all, square-built, heavy-browed peasant, about forty years of age.

      "Who goes there?" he said, holding the lanthorn high above his head, and shading his eyes with his hand.

      "Travellers," replied my companion. "Travellers wanting food and shelter for the night."

      The man looked at us for a moment in silence.

      "You travel late," he said, at length.

      "Ay – and we must have gone on still later, if we had not come upon your house. We were bound for Rotheskirche. Can you take us in."

      "Yes," he said sullenly. "I suppose so. This way."

      And, swinging the lanthorn as he went, he turned on his heel abruptly, and led the way back to the house.

      "A boorish fellow enough!" said I, as we followed.

      "Nay – a mere peasant!" replied Bergheim. "A mere peasant – rough, but kindly."

      As we drew near the house, two large mastiff pups came rushing out from a yard somewhere at the back, and a huge, tawny dog chained up in an open shed close by, strained at his collar and yelled savagely.

      "Down, Caspar! Down, Schwartz!" growled our conductor, with an oath.

      And immediately the pups slunk back into the yard, and the dog in the shed dropped into a low snarl, eyeing СКАЧАТЬ