The Lost Manuscript: A Novel. Gustav Freytag

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СКАЧАТЬ rose and disappeared in the depth. She put on the fellow of the fugitive and hastened along the path to the grotto. Turning round the corner of the rock she stepped back startled, for in front of the grotto stood the Professor, thoughtfully contemplating the embroidered arabesques of the shoe. The sensitive man was scarcely less startled than Ilse at this sudden encounter. He also had been impelled to go out into the early morning, to the spot where first the heart of the maiden had revealed itself to him. He had seated himself on a stone at the entrance, and leaned his head against the rock in deep and sorrowful thought. Then he heard a soft rustling, and, amidst gravel and sand, the little masterpiece of art fell close to his feet. He hastened forward, for he guessed at once to whom the bounding shoe belonged. There he saw the loved one standing before him, in a light morning dress, enveloped in her long blond hair, like a water fairy or a mountain nymph.

      "It is my shoe," said Ilse, with embarrassment, concealing her foot.

      "I know it," said the man of learning, equally embarrassed, pushing the shoe reverently to the border of her dress. The shoe was quickly slipped on, but the short glimpse of the white foot suddenly gave the Professor heroic courage, such as he had not had for the last few days.

      "I will not move from this spot," he cried, resolutely.

      Ilse drew back into the grotto and gathered her hair into the net she held in her hand. The Professor stood at the entrance of the sanctuary; near him hung the long shoots of the blackberry, the bees hummed over the wild thyme, and his heart beat. When Ilse, with blushing cheeks, stepped out of the grotto into the light of day, she heard her name uttered by a voice in deep emotion, she felt her hand pressed, an ardent look shot from those true eyes, sweet words fell from his lips, his arm clasped her, and she sank silently on his heart.

      As the Professor himself on another occasion had explained, man sometimes forgets that his life rests on a compact with the overwhelming powers of nature, which, unawares, influence the little lords of the world. Thus similar unexpected powers now controlled the Professor and Ilse. I know not what agencies of nature sent the bees, or threw the shoe. Was it the elves in whom Ilse did not believe? Or was it one of the antique acquaintances of the Professor, the goat-footed Pan, who blew his reed-pipes in the grotto?

      The wooing had begun in a scientific manner, but it had been brought to a conclusion with little wisdom and without any regard for formality.

       CHAPTER XI.

      SPITEHAHN

      Raven-black night brooded over the hostile houses. The world looked like a great coal-pit in which the lights had been extinguished. The wind howled through the trees of the park. A rustling of leaves and crackling of branches was heard. Nothing was to be seen but a monstrous black curtain that concealed the neighboring woods and a black-tented roof which was spread over the houses. The streets of the city were empty. All who loved their beds had long been lying therein, and whoever possessed a nightcap had now pulled it over his ears. Every human sound was silenced; the striking of the tower-clock was interrupted by the stormy winds, and each tone was driven hither and thither, that no one could count the midnight hour. But around the house of Mr. Hummel the yelping dogs pursued their wild career in the courtyard, undaunted by storm or darkness; and when the wind blew like a bugle-horn between the houses, the pack dispelled sleep from men by their clamor and din.

      "This night suits them well," thought Gabriel, in his room. "This is just the weather for them." At last he slept, and dreamt that the two dogs opened the door of his room, placed themselves on two chairs before his bed and alternately snapped their pocket pistols at him.

      As he was lying in this unquiet sleep, there was a knock at his door.

      "Get up, Gabriel!" called out the old porter from the factory; "an accident has happened."

      "Through the dogs," exclaimed Gabriel, springing out of bed.

      "Some one must have broken in," cried the man again, through the door, "the dogs are lying on the ground."

      Gabriel, alarmed, put on his boots and hastened into the yard, which was dimly lighted by the dawn. There lay the two poor watch-dogs on the ground, with no other sign of life than helpless writhing. Gabriel ran to the warehouse, examined the door and windows, and then the house; every shutter was closed, and no sign of disturbance could be discovered. When he returned, Mr. Hummel was standing before the prostrate dogs.

      "Gabriel, a dastardly deed has been perpetrated here. Something has been done to the dogs. Let them both lie there; an investigation must be made. I will send for the police."

      "Indeed?" answered Gabriel; "compassion should come first, then the police. Perhaps something may yet be done for the poor brutes."

      He took the two animals, carried them to the light, and examined their condition.

      "The black one is done for," he said, compassionately. "The red one has still some life in him."

      "Go to the veterinary surgeon, Klaus," exclaimed Mr. Hummel, "and ask him to do me the favor to get up at once; he shall be remunerated. This case must be put into the morning paper. I require satisfaction before the magistracy and town council. – Gabriel," he continued, in angry excitement, "the dogs of citizens are being murdered: it is the work of low malice, but I am not the man to put up with such assassins. They shall be made an example of, Gabriel."

      Meanwhile Gabriel stroked the fur of the red dog, which rolled its eyes wildly under its shaggy brow and stretched out its paws piteously.

      At last the veterinary surgeon came. He found the whole family assembled in the court. Mrs. Hummel, still in her night-dress, brought him a cup of coffee, while drinking which he sympathized with them, and then began the examination. The verdict of the expert pointed to poisoning. The dissection showed that a little dumpling with arsenic had been eaten, and, what vexed Mr. Hummel still more, there were glass splinters besides. For the red dog there was a doubtful prospect of recovery.

      It was a gloomy morning for the Hummel family. Before breakfast Mr. Hummel sat down to his writing table and wrote out an advertisement for the daily paper, in which ten dollars reward was offered to any one who would make known the name of the malignant poisoner of his dog. The ten dollars were underlined with three dashes. Then he went to his window and looked savagely upon the haunts of his opponent and on the Chinese temple which had been the occasion of this new disturbance. Finally he began to pace up and down the room, turning to his wife as he passed and muttering:

      "I have not the slightest doubt about the matter-not the slightest doubt."

      "I do not understand you," answered his wife, who on this trying morning was taking a second breakfast; "and I do not understand how you can be so positive in this matter. It is true, there is something about those people that has always been repugnant to us, and it may be a misfortune to have such neighbors. But you have no right to assume that they have poisoned the dogs. I cannot think that such an idea could have entered into the head of Mrs. Hahn. I admit that she is an ordinary woman. Moreover, the doctor says it was dumplings; which points to a woman as the guilty person. But when our red dog was caught running off with the snipe they were going to have for dinner, she sent me back the dog with her compliments, saying she thought it was not good behavior in him, as he had eaten three of the birds. That was civil, and I can find no murderous intention in it. And he surely does not look as if he would do anything to our dogs at midnight."

      "He is a treacherous fellow," growled Mr. Hummel; "but you have always had your own opinion about those people. He has played the hypocrite toward me from the very first day, when he stood by his pile of bricks before these windows and turned his back upon me. I have always allowed myself to be persuaded by you women to treat him as a neighbor, with greetings and civil speeches; and I have always been silent when you СКАЧАТЬ