The Mysterious Stranger, and Other Stories. Марк Твен

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СКАЧАТЬ that my spirits rose once more. He told some very cunning things that put us in a gale of laughter; and when he was telling about the time that Samson tied the torches to the foxes’ tails and set them loose in the Philistines’ corn, and Samson sitting on the fence slapping his thighs and laughing, with the tears running down his cheeks, and lost his balance and fell off the fence, the memory of that picture got him to laughing, too, and we did have a most lovely and jolly time. By and by he said:

      “I am going on my errand now.”

      “Don’t!” we all said. “Don’t go; stay with us. You won’t come back.”

      “Yes, I will; I give you my word.”

      “When? To-night? Say when.”

      “It won’t be long. You will see.”

      “We like you.”

      “And I you. And as a proof of it I will show you something fine to see. Usually when I go I merely vanish; but now I will dissolve myself and let you see me do it.”

      He stood up, and it was quickly finished. He thinned away and thinned away until he was a soap-bubble, except that he kept his shape. You could see the bushes through him as clearly as you see things through a soap-bubble, and all over him played and flashed the delicate iridescent colors of the bubble, and along with them was that thing shaped like a window-sash which you always see on the globe of the bubble. You have seen a bubble strike the carpet and lightly bound along two or three times before it bursts. He did that. He sprang – touched the grass – bounded – floated along – touched again – and so on, and presently exploded – puff! and in his place was vacancy.

      It was a strange and beautiful thing to see. We did not say anything, but sat wondering and dreaming and blinking; and finally Seppi roused up and said, mournfully sighing:

      “I suppose none of it has happened.”

      Nikolaus sighed and said about the same.

      I was miserable to hear them say it, for it was the same cold fear that was in my own mind. Then we saw poor old Father Peter wandering along back, with his head bent down, searching the ground. When he was pretty close to us he looked up and saw us, and said, “How long have you been here, boys?”

      “A little while, Father.”

      “Then it is since I came by, and maybe you can help me. Did you come up by the path?”

      “Yes, Father.”

      “That is good. I came the same way. I have lost my wallet. There wasn’t much in it, but a very little is much to me, for it was all I had. I suppose you haven’t seen anything of it?”

      “No, Father, but we will help you hunt.”

      “It is what I was going to ask you. Why, here it is!”

      We hadn’t noticed it; yet there it lay, right where Satan stood when he began to melt – if he did melt and it wasn’t a delusion. Father Peter picked it up and looked very much surprised.

      “It is mine,” he said, “but not the contents. This is fat; mine was flat; mine was light; this is heavy.” He opened it; it was stuffed as full as it could hold with gold coins. He let us gaze our fill; and of course we did gaze, for we had never seen so much money at one time before. All our mouths came open to say “Satan did it!” but nothing came out. There it was, you see – we couldn’t tell what Satan didn’t want told; he had said so himself.

      “Boys, did you do this?”

      It made us laugh. And it made him laugh, too, as soon as he thought what a foolish question it was.

      “Who has been here?”

      Our mouths came open to answer, but stood so for a moment, because we couldn’t say “Nobody,” for it wouldn’t be true, and the right word didn’t seem to come; then I thought of the right one, and said it:

      “Not a human being.”

      “That is so,” said the others, and let their mouths go shut.

      “It is not so,” said Father Peter, and looked at us very severely. “I came by here a while ago, and there was no one here, but that is nothing; some one has been here since. I don’t mean to say that the person didn’t pass here before you came, and I don’t mean to say you saw him, but some one did pass, that I know. On your honor – you saw no one?”

      “Not a human being.”

      “That is sufficient; I know you are telling me the truth.”

      He began to count the money on the path, we on our knees eagerly helping to stack it in little piles.

      “It’s eleven hundred ducats odd!” he said. “Oh dear! if it were only mine – and I need it so!” and his voice broke and his lips quivered.

      “It is yours, sir!” we all cried out at once, “every heller!”

      “No – it isn’t mine. Only four ducats are mine; the rest…!” He fell to dreaming, poor old soul, and caressing some of the coins in his hands, and forgot where he was, sitting there on his heels with his old gray head bare; it was pitiful to see. “No,” he said, waking up, “it isn’t mine. I can’t account for it. I think some enemy… it must be a trap.”

      Nikolaus said: “Father Peter, with the exception of the astrologer you haven’t a real enemy in the village – nor Marget, either. And not even a half-enemy that’s rich enough to chance eleven hundred ducats to do you a mean turn. I’ll ask you if that’s so or not?”

      He couldn’t get around that argument, and it cheered him up. “But it isn’t mine, you see – it isn’t mine, in any case.”

      He said it in a wistful way, like a person that wouldn’t be sorry, but glad, if anybody would contradict him.

      “It is yours, Father Peter, and we are witness to it. Aren’t we, boys?”

      “Yes, we are – and we’ll stand by it, too.”

      “Bless your hearts, you do almost persuade me; you do, indeed. If I had only a hundred-odd ducats of it! The house is mortgaged for it, and we’ve no home for our heads if we don’t pay to-morrow. And that four ducats is all we’ve got in the – ”

      “It’s yours, every bit of it, and you’ve got to take it – we are bail that it’s all right. Aren’t we, Theodor? Aren’t we, Seppi?”

      We two said yes, and Nikolaus stuffed the money back into the shabby old wallet and made the owner take it. So he said he would use two hundred of it, for his house was good enough security for that, and would put the rest at interest till the rightful owner came for it; and on our side we must sign a paper showing how he got the money – a paper to show to the villagers as proof that he had not got out of his troubles dishonestly.

      Chapter 4

      It made immense talk next day, when Father Peter paid Solomon Isaacs in gold and left the rest of the money with him at interest. Also, there was a pleasant change; many people called at the house to congratulate him, and a number of cool old friends became kind and friendly again; and, to top all, Marget was invited to a party.

      And there was no mystery; Father Peter СКАЧАТЬ