The Lost Manuscript: A Novel. Gustav Freytag

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СКАЧАТЬ Take from those towers beyond us the caps that were placed upon them a century ago, give them back their old pinnacles, place here and there a turret on the walls, and you have an ideal, wondrously beautiful picture of mediaeval days."

      "And upon the same road that leads us thither, a learned monk once strode with his precious manuscripts towards the quiet valley; there to teach his companions, or to shield himself, perhaps, from powerful enemies," the Doctor said, with enthusiasm.

      The travelers passed by the pasture ground; the herdsmen looked with indifference at the strangers; but the cows placed themselves by the edge of the ditch and stared, while the young ones of the herd bellowed at them inquiringly. They went through the dark arch of the gate and looked curiously along the streets. It was a poor little town, the main street alone was paved, and that badly. Not far from the gate the sloping beam of a well projected high in the air, and from it hung along pole with a bucket attached. Few people were to be seen, those who were not working in the houses were occupied in the field; for the straws which stuck in the stone crevices of the arch of the gate showed that harvest wagons were carrying the fruits of the fields to the farm-yards of the citizens. Near many of the houses there were open wooden doors, through which one could look into the yard and barns, and over the dung heap on which small fowls were pecking. The last century had altered the place but little, and the low houses still stood with their gables to the front. Instead of the coats of arms, there projected into the street the signs of artisans, carved in tin or wood, and painted-such as a large wooden boot; a griffin, holding enormous shears in its hand; or a rampant lion, that extended a bretzel; or, as the most beautiful masterpiece of all, a regular hexagon of colored glass panes.

      "Much has been retained of mediæval times here," said the Professor.

      The friends came to the market-place, an irregular space, the little houses of which were adorned with bright paint. There on an insignificant building prominently stood a red dragon with a curled tail, carved out of a board, and supported in the air on an iron pole. Upon it was painted, in ill-formed letters; "The Dragon Inn."

      "See," said Fritz, pointing to the dragon, "the fancy of the artist has carved him with a pike's head and thick teeth. The dragon is the oldest treasure-preserver of our legends. It is remarkable how firmly the recollection of this legendary animal everywhere clings to the people. Probably this sign-board originates from some tradition of the place."

      They ascended the white stone steps into the house, utterly unconscious that they had long been watched by sharp eyes. A citizen, who was taking his morning draught, exclaimed to the stout host, "Who can these be? They do not look like commercial travelers; perhaps one of them is the new parson from Kirchdorf."

      "Parsons don't look like that," said the inn-keeper, decidedly, who knew men better; "they are strangers on foot, no carriage and no luggage."

      The strangers entered, placed themselves at a red-painted table, and ordered breakfast. "A beautiful country, mine host," began the Professor; "magnificent trees in your forests."

      "Yes," answered the host.

      "A wealthy neighborhood, apparently," continued the Professor.

      "People complain that they do not earn enough," replied the host.

      "How many clergy have you in the place?"

      "Two," said the host, more politely. "But the old pastor is dead; meanwhile, there is a candidate here."

      "Is the other pastor at home?"

      "I do not know," said the landlord.

      "Have you a court of justice here?"

      "We have a Justice of the Peace; he is now here-court is in session to-day."

      "Was there not in former times a monastery in the city?" said the Doctor, taking up the examination.

      The citizen and the landlord looked at each other. "That is long since," replied the master of the inn.

      "Does not the Manor of Bielstein lie in the neighborhood?" inquired Fritz.

      Again the citizen and the landlord looked significantly at each other.

      "It lies somewhere here in the neighborhood," answered the landlord, with reserve.

      "How long does it take to go to the manor?" asked the Professor, irritated by the short answers of the man.

      "Do you wish to go there?" inquired the landlord. "Do you know the owner?"

      "No," answered the Professor.

      "Have you any business with him?"

      "That is our affair," answered the Professor, curtly.

      "The road leads through the wood, and takes half an hour-you cannot miss it;" and the landlord abruptly closed the conversation and left the room. The citizen followed him.

      "We have not learnt much," said the Doctor, laughing. "I hope the pastor and magistrate will be more communicative."

      "We will go direct to the place," said the Professor, with decision.

      Meanwhile the landlord and the citizen consulted together. "Whatever the strangers may be," repeated the citizen, "they are not ecclesiastics, and they did not seem to care for the magistrate. Did you remark how they inquired about the monastery and the Manor?" The landlord nodded. "I will tell you my suspicion," continued the citizen, eagerly; "they have not come here for nothing; they are after something."

      "What can that be?" asked the landlord, pondering.

      "They are disguised Jesuits; that's what they look like to me."

      "Well, if they intend to seek a quarrel with the people at the Manor, they will find their match."

      "I am on my way now to the Inspector on business; I will give him a hint."

      "Do not meddle with what does not concern you," said the landlord, warningly. But the citizen only held the boots he carried, tighter under his arm, and drove round the corner.

      Our two friends left, disgusted with the lack of courtesy they encountered at the Dragon. They inquired the way to the manor of an old woman at the opposite gate of the city. Behind the town the path rose from the gravel bed of the brook to the woody height. They entered a clearing of underbrush, from which, here and there, rose up high oaks. The rain of the last evening still hung in drops on the leaves-the deep green of summer glistened in the sun's rays-the song of birds and the tapping of the woodpecker above broke the stillness.

      "This puts one in different frame of mind," exclaimed the Doctor, cheerfully.

      "It requires very little to call forth new melodies in a well-strung heart, if fate has not played on it with too rough a hand. The bark of a few trees covered with hoary moss, a handful of blossoms on the turf, and a few notes from the throats of birds, are sufficient," replied the philosophic Professor. "Hark! that is no greeting of nature to the wanderer," added he, listening attentively, as the sound of distant voices chanting a choral, fell softly on his ear. The sound appeared to come from above the trees.

      "Let us go higher up," exclaimed the Doctor, "to the mysterious place where old church-hymns murmur through the oaks."

      They ascended the hill some hundred steps, and found themselves on an open terrace, one side of which was surrounded by trees. In the clearing stood a small wooden church surrounded by a graveyard; some distance beyond on a massive extent of rock rose a great old building, СКАЧАТЬ