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NORTHWESTERN
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
The Gift of
MRS. BORDEN B.
KESSLER
"You guilty!" exclaimed the president. "Yes, I am alone guilty,"
said Ordener. Page 286.
Halts of Iceland.
Standard €dttion
The Works of
VICTOR HUGO
Hans of Iceland
H Romance of i6p9
H. L-. Burt Company, Publishers
New "^orh
INTRODUCTIOK
" Hans of Iceland " is the work of a young man,—a
\ very young man.
As we read it, we see clearly that the eighteen-year old
boy who wrote " Hans of Iceland " during a fever fit in
1821 had no experience of men or things, no experience
of ideas, and that he was striving to divine all this.
Every intellectual effort, be it drama, poem, or romance,
must contain three ingredients,—what the author has
felt, what he has observed, and what he has divined.
In a romance particularly, if it is to be a good one,
there must be plenty of feeling and plenty of observation ;
and those things which are divined must be derived
logically, simply, and with no solution of continuity,
from those things which are observed and felt.
If we apply this law to " Hans of Iceland," we shall
readily grasp the chief defect of the book.
There is but one thing felt in " Hans of Iceland," the
young man's love; but one thing observed, the young
girl's love. All the I'est is a matter of divination,—that
is, of invention; for youth, having neither facts nor ex¬
perience nor models behind it, can only divine by means
of its imagination. " Hans of Iceland," therefore, ad¬
mitting that it deserves classification, is hardly more
than a fanciful romance.
"When a man's prime is past, when his head is bowed,
when he feels compelled to write something more than
strange stories to frighten old women and children,
when all the rough edges of youth are worn away by the
fricticn of life, he realizes that every invention, every
ci'eation, every artistic divination, must be based upon
study, observation, meditation, science, measure, com¬
parison, serious refiection, attentive and constant imita-
iv
INTRODUCTION.
tion of Nature, conscientious self-criticism; and the inspi¬
ration evolved from these new conditions, far from losing
anything, gains broader influence and greater strength.
The poet then realizes his true aim. All the vague revery
of his earlier years is crystallized, as it were, and con¬
verted into thought. This second period of life is usually
that of an artist's greatest works. Still young, and yet
mature,—this is the precious phase, the intermediate
and culminating point, the warm and radiant hour of
noon, the moment when there is the least possible shade,
and the most light. There are supreme artists who
maintain this height all their lives, despite declining
years. These are the sovereign geniuses. Shakespeare
and Michael Angelo left the impress of youth upon some
of their works, the traces of age on none.
To return to the story of which a new edition is now
to be published: Such as it is, with its abrupt and breath¬
less action, its characters all of a piece, its barbarous and
bungling mannerism, its supercilious and awkward form,
its undisguised moods of revery, its varied hues thrown
together haphazard with no thought of pleasing the eye,
its crude, harsh, and shocking style, utterly destitute of
skill or shading, with the countless excesses of every kind
committed almost unwittingly throughout, this book rep¬
resents with tolerable accuracy the period of life at which
it was written, and the particular condition of the soul,
the imagination, and the heart of a youth in love for the
first time, when the commonplace and ordinary obstacles
of life are converted into imposing and poetic impedi¬
ments, when his head is full of heroic fancies which glo¬
rify him in his own estimation, when he is already a man
in two or three directions, and still a child in a score of
others, when he has read Ducray-Duminil at eleven years
of age, Auguste la Fontaine at thirteen, Shakespeare at
sixteen,—a strange and rapid scale, which leads abruptly,
in the matter of literary taste, from the silly to the sen¬
timental, from the sentimental to the sublime.
We give this book back to the world in 1833 as it was
written in 1821, because we feel that the work, ingen¬
uous, if nothing else, gives a tolerably faithful picture of
the age that produced it.
Moreover, the author, small as may be his place in lit-
INTRODUCTION.
V
erature, having undergone the common fate of every
writer, great or small, and seen his first works exalted at
the expense of the latest, and having heard it declared
that he was far from having fulfilled the promise of his
youth, deems it his duty, not to oppose to a criticism,
perhaps wise and just, objeetions which might seem sus¬
picious from his lips, but to reprint his first works sim¬
ply and literally as he wrote them, that his readers may
decide, so far as he is concerned, whether it be a step
forward or backward that divides " Hans of Iceland "
from " Notre Dame de Paris."
Paris, May, 1833.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"You guilty!" exclaimed the president. "Yes, I am alone
PAGE
Raising the corpse in his arms and hugging it to his heart, he
began to utter wild yells of love and grief 33
Tearing off his gloves, his black beard, and his cowl, the
man revealed a fierce countenance 117
His movements were so rapid that upon whatever side Ordener
attacked him, he always met the monster face to face 206
Then, rising, he signed to the surprised and startled Ethel to
follow him 266
The sweet and solemn ceremony was performed, and with
the final blessing of the priest, they rose a wedded pair. 301
At this instant a tall black burst through a blazing fence carry¬
ing in his arms a young woman who shrieked and struggled. 381
Marie recognized me in a moment, and with a cry of joy
threw herself into my arms 450
Hans of Iceland. 0
HANS OF ICELAND,
CHAPTER I.
Did you see it ? did you see it ? did you see it ? Oh ! did
you see it ?—Who saw it ? Who did see it ? For mercy's
sake, who saw it ?
Sterne : Tristram Shandy.
"That's what comes of falling In love, Neighbor
Niels. Poor Guth Stersen would not be stretched out
yonder on that great black slab, like a starfish forgotten
by the tide, if she had kept her mind on mending her
father's boat and patching his nets. Saint Usuph, the
fisher, console our old friend in his affliction! "
" And her lover," added a shrill, tremulous voice, " Gill
Stadt, that fine young man beside her, would not be
there now, if instead of making love to Guth and seeking
his luck in those accursed Roeraas mines, he had stayed
at home and rocked his little brother's cradle, under the
smoky cross-beams of his mother's hut."
Neighbor Niels, whom the first speaker addressed, in¬
terrupted; "Your memory is growing old along with
yourself. Mother Oily. Gill never had a brother, and
that makes poor Widow Stadt's grief all the harder to
bear, for her home is now left utterly desolate; if she
looks up to heaven for consolation, she sees nought but
her old roof, where still hangs the cradle of her son,
grown to be a tall young man, and dead."
" Poor mother! " replied old Oily, " it was the young
man's own fault. Why should he go to Roeraas to be a
miner ? "
" I do believe," said Niels, " that those infernal mines
1
2 HANS OF ICELAND.
rob us of a man for every escalin's * worth of copper which
we get out of them. What do you think, Father Braal ? "
"Miners are fools," replied the fisherman. "If he
would live, the fish should not leave the water. INIan
should not enter the bowels of the earth."
" But," asked a young man in the crowd, " how if Gill
Stadt had to work in the mines to win his sweetheart ? "
" A man should never risk his life," interrupted Oily,
" for affections which are far from being worth a life, or
filling it. A pretty wedding-hed Gill earned for his -
Guth!"
" So then that young woman," inquired a curious by¬
stander, " drowned herself in despair at the death of this
young man ?"
" Who says so ?" loudly exclaimed a soldier, pushing
his way through the crowd. " That young girl, whom I
knew well, was indeed engaged to marry a young miner
who was lately crushed by falling rocks in the under¬
ground tunnels of Storwaadsgruhe, near Roeraas; hut
she was also the sweetheart of one of my mates, and as
she was going to Munkholm secretly, day before yesterday,
to celebrate with her lover the death of her betrothed,
her boat capsized on a reef, and she was drowned."
A confused sound of voices arose: " Impossible, master
soldier," cried the old women. The young ones were
silent; and Neighbor Niels maliciously reminded fisher
Braal of his serious statement: " That's what comes of
falling in love 1"
The soldier was about to lose his temper with his oppo¬
nents ; he had already called them " old witches from the
cave of Quiragoth," and they were not disposed to bear
so grave an insult patiently, when a sharp and imperious
voice, crying " Silence, silence, you old fools!" put an
end to the dispute. All was still, as when the sudden
crow of a cock is heard amid the cackling of the hens.
Before relating the rest of the scene, it may be well to
describe the spot where it occurred. It was—as the reader
has doubtless guessed—one of those gloomy structures
which public pity and social forethought devote to un-
* A small coin worth twelve and a half cents. The name is
still in use in Louisiana.
UA?rs OF ICELAND.
3
known corpses, the last asylum of the dead, whose lives
were usually sad ones ; where the careless spectator, the
surly or kindly observer gather, and friends often meet
tearful relatives, whom long and unendurable anxiety has
robbed of all but one sad hope. At the period now re¬
mote, and in the uncivilized region to whigh I have car¬
ried my reader, there had as yet been no attempt, as in
our cities of gold and mud, to make these resting-places
into ingeniously forbidding or elegantly funereal edifices.
Daylight did not fall through tomb-shaped openings, into
artistically sculptured vaults, upon beds which seem as
if the guardian of the place were anxious to leave the
dead some of the conveniences of life, and the pillow
seems arranged for sleep. If the keeper's door were left
ajar, the eye, wearied with gazing upon hideous, naked
corpses, had not as now the pleasure of resting upon
elegant furniture and happy children. Death was there
in all its deformity, in all its horror; and there was no
attempt to deck its fieshless skeleton with ribbons and
gewgaws.
The room in which our actors stood was spacious and
dark, which made it seem still larger; it was lighted only
by a broad, low door opening upon the port of Thrond-
hjem, and a rough hole in the ceiling, through which a
dull, white light, fell, mingled with rain, hail, or snow,
according to the weather, upon the corpses lying directly
under it. The room was divided by an iron railing,
breast-high, running across it from side to side. The
public entered the outer portion through the low door;
in the inner part were six long black granite slabs, ar¬
ranged abreast and parallel to each other. A small side
door served to admit the keeper and his assistant to either
section, their rooms occupying the rear of the building,
close to the water. The miner and his betrothed occupied
two granite beds ; decomposition had already begun its
work upon the young woman's body, showing itself in
large blue and purple spots running along her limbs on
the line of the blood-vessels. Gill's features were stern
and set; but his body was so horribly mutilated that it
was impossible to judge whether his beauty were really
so great as old Oily declared.
It was before these disfigured remains, in the midst of
4
HANS OF ICELAND.
the mute crowd, that the conversation wlych we have
faithfully interpreted, began.
A tall, withered old man, sitting with folded arms and
bent head upon a broken stool in the darkest corner of
the room, had apparently paid no heed until the moment
when he rose suddenly, exclaiming, " Silence, silence, you
old fools!" and seized the soldier by the arm.
All were hushed; the soldier turned and broke into a
burst of laughter at the sight of his strange interimpter,
whose pale face, thin greasy locks, long fingers, and com¬
plete costume of reindeer leather amply justified this
mirthful reception. But a clamor arose from the crowd
of women, for a moment confounded: " It is the keeper of
the Spladgest! *—That infernal doorkeeper to the dead!—
That diabolical Spiagudry !—That accursed sorcerer! "
" Silence, you old fools, silence! If this be the witches'
Sabbath, hasten away and find your broomsticks ; if you
don't, they'll fly off without you. Let this worthy de¬
scendant of the god Thor alone."
Then Spiagudry, striving to assume a gracious expres¬
sion, addressed the soldier: " You say, my good fellow,
that this wretched woman—"
« Old rascal!" muttered Oily; " yes, we are all' wretch¬
ed women,' to him, because our bodies, if they fall into
his claws, only bring him thirty escalins' reward, while
he gets forty for the paltry carcass of a man."
" Silence, old women!" repeated Spiagudry. " In truth,
these daughters of the Devil are like their kettles; when
they wax warm, they must needs sing. Tell me, my
valiant king of the sword, your comrade, this Guth's
lover, will doubtless kill himself in despair at her loss,
won't he ? "
Here burst forth the long-repressed stormT " Do you
hear the miscreant,—the old Pagan!" cried twenty shrill,
discordant voices. "He would fain see one less man
living, for the sake of the forty escalins that a dead body
brings him."
" And what if I would ? " replied the keeper of the Splad¬
gest. " Doesn't our gracious king and master. Christian
v.,—may Saint Hospitius bless him !—declare himself
* Name of the Throndhjem morgue.
HANS OF ICELAND.
5
the natural guardian of all miners, so that when they die
he may enrich his royal treasury with their paltry leav¬
ings ? "
"You honor the king," answered fisher Braal, "by
lomparing the royal treasury to the strong-box of your
charnel-house, and him to yourself, Neighbor Spiagudry."
"Neighbor, indeed!" said the keeper, shocked by such
familiarity. "Your neighbor! say rather your host!
since it may easily chance some day, my dear boat-dweller,
that I shall have to lend you one of my six stone beds for
a week. Besides," he added, with a laugh, " if I spoke of
that soldier's death, it was merely from a desire to see
the perpetuation of the custom of suicide for the sake of
those great and tragic passions which ladies are wont to
inspire."
" Well, you tall corpse and keeper of corpses," said the
soldier, " what are you after, with your amiable grimace,
which looks so much like the last smile of a man who has
been hanged ? "
" Capital, my valiant fellow!" replied Spiagudry. " I
always felt that there was more wit beneath the helmet
of Constable Thurn, who conquered the Devil with
his sword and his tongue, than under the mitre of
Bishop Isleif, who wrote the history of Iceland, or the
square cap of Professor Shoenning, who described our
cathedral."
" In that case, if you will take my advice, my old bag
of leather, you will give up the revenues of the charnel-
house, and go and sell yourself to the viceroy's museum
of curiosities at Bergen. I swear to you, by Belphegor,
that they pay their weight in gold there for rare beasts;
but say, what do you want with me ? "
" When the bodies brought here are found in the water,
we have to give half the reward to the fisherman. I was
going to ask you, therefore, illustrious heir to Constable
Thurn, if you would persuade your unfortunate comrade
not to drown himself, but to choose some other mode of
death; it can't matter much to him, and he would not
wish to wrong the unhappy Christian who must entertain
his corpse, if the loss of Guth should really drive him to
that act of despair."
"You are quite'mistaken, my charitable and hospitable
0
HANS OF ICELAND.
friend. My comrade will not have the pleasure of occu¬
pying an apartment in your tempting tavern with its six
beds. Don't you suppose he has already consoled him¬
self with another Valkyria for the death of that girl ? lie
had long been tired of your Guth, by my beard! "
At these words, the storm, which Spiagudry had for a
moment drawn upon his own head, again burst more
furiously than ever upon the luckless soldier.
" What, miserable scamp ! " shrieked the old women;
" is that the way you forget us ? And yet we love such
good-for-nothings! "
The young girls still kept silence. Some of them even
thought—greatly against their will, of course—that this
graceless fellow was very good-looking.
" Oh, ho!" said the soldier; " has the witches' Sabbath
come round again ? Beelzebub's punishment is frightful
indeed if he be condemned to hear such choruses once a
week!"
No one can say how this fresh squall would have
ended, if general attention had not at this moment been
utterly absorbed by a noise from without. The uproar
increased steadily, and presently a swarm of little ragged
boys entered the Spladgest, tumultuously shouting and
crowding about a covered bier carried by two men.
" Where does that come from ? " the keeper asked the
bearers.
" From Urchtal Sands."
" Oglypiglap! " shouted Spiagudry.
One of the side doors opened, a little man of Lappish
race, dressed in leather, entered, and signed to the bearers
to follow him. Spiagudry accompanied them, and the
door closed before the curious crowd had time to guess,
by the length of the body on the bier, whether it were a
man or a woman.
This subject still occupied all their thoughts, when
Spiagudry and his assistant reappeared in the second com¬
partment, carrying the corpse of a man, which they placed
upon one of the granite couches.
"It's a long time since I've handled such handsome
clothes," said Oglypiglap; then, shaking his head and
standing on tiptoe, he hung above the dead man the ele¬
gant uniform of a captain in the army. The corpse's head
HANS OF ICELAND.
7
■wa3 disfigured, and his limbs were covered with blood
the keeper sprinkled the body several times from an old
broken pail.
" By Saint Beelzebub! " cried the soldier, " it is an offi¬
cer of my regiment. Let me see; can it be Captain Bol-
lar,—^from grief at bis uncle's death ? Bab! be is the
heir. Baron Randmer ? He lost bis estate at cards yes¬
terday, but be will Avin it back to-morrow, with bis ad¬
versary's castle. Can it be Captain Lory, whose dog was
drowned, or Paymaster Stunck, whose wife Avas unfaith¬
ful to bira ? But, really, I don't see Avby be should blow
out bis brains for that! "
The croAvd steadily increased. Just at this instant, a
young man who was crossing the wharf, seeing the mob
of people, dismounted from bis horse, banded the bridle
to the servant behind bim, and entered the Spladgest.
He wore a simple traveling dress, was armed Avitb a
sword, and Avrapped in a large green cloak; a black plume,
fastened to bis bat by a diamond buckle, fell over bis
noble face and Avaved to and fro upon bis lofty broAv,
shaded by chestnut hair; bis boots and spurs, soiled with
mud, showed that be bad come a long distance.
As be entered, a short, thick-set man, also Avrapped in
a cloak and biding bis bands in huge gloves, replied to
the soldier.
" And who told you that be killed himself ? That
man no more committed suicide, I'll be bound, than the
roof of your cathedral set itself on fire."
As the double-edged SAVord makes two Avounds, this
phrase gave birth to two answers.
" Our cathedral!" said Niels; " it is covered Avitb cop¬
per now. It was that miserable Hans Avbo set it on fire
to'make work for the miners, one of Avbom Avas bis favorite
Gill Stadt, whom ypu see lying yonder."
" What the devil!" cried the soldier, in bis turn ; " do
you dare tell me, the second musketeer in the Munkbolin
garrison, that that man did not bloAV out bis brains !"
" He Avas murdered," coldly replied the little fellow.
"Just listen to the oracle ! Go along Avitb you. Your
little gray eyes can see no better than your bands do
under the big glpA'cs Avitb which you cover them in the
middle of the summer."
8
BANS OF ICELAND.
The little man's eyes flashed.
" Soldier, pray to your patron saint that these hands
may never leave their mark upon your face!"
" Oh!—enough of this ! " cried the soldier, in a rage.
Then, pausing suddenly, he said : " No, there must be no
word of a duel before dead men."
The little man growled a few words in a foreign tongue,
and vanished.
A voice cried out: "He was found on TJrchtal Sands."
" On TJrchtal Sands ? " said the soldier; " Captain Dis-
polsen was to land there this morning, from Copenhagen."
" Captain Dispolsen has not yet reached Munkholm,"
said another voice.
" They say that Hans of Iceland haunts those sands
just now," added a fourth.
" Then it is possible that this may be the captain,"
said the soldier, " if Hans was the murderer ; for we all
know that the Icelander murders in so devilish a fashion
that his victims often seem to be suicides."
" What sort of man is this Hans ? " asked some one.
" He is a giant," said one.
" He is a dwarf," said another.
" Has nobody seen him, then ? " put in a voice.
" Those who see him for the flrst time, see him for the
last time also."
" Hush!" said old Oily; " they say there are but three
persons who ever exchanged human speech with him,—
that reprobate of a Spiagudry, Widow Stadt, and—but he
had a sad life and a sad death—that poor Gill, who lies
yonder. Hush!"
" Hush !" was repeated on all sides.
" Now," suddenly exclaimed the soldier, " I am sure
that this is indeed Captain Dispolsen. I recognize the
steel chain which our prisoner, old Schumacker, gave him
when he went away."
The young man with the black plume broke the silence
abruptly, « Are you sure it is Captain Dispolsen ? "
" Sure, by the merits of Saint Beelzebub!" said the
soldier.
The young man left the room hurriedly
" Get me a boat for Munkholm," he said to his servant.
" But, the general, sir'?"
IIAys OF ICELAND.
9
"Take the horses to him. I will follow to-morrow.
Am I my own master, or not ? Come, night is falling,
and I am in haste. A boat!"
The servant obeyed, and for some time stood watching
his young master as he moved away from the shore.
CHAPTER II.
I will sit by you while you tell me some pleasant tale to pass
away the time.—Maturin ; Bertram.
The reader is already aware that we are at Thrond-
hjem, one of the four chief cities in Norway, although
not the residence of the viceroy. At the date of this
story (1699) the kingdom of Norway was still united to
Denmark, and governed by a viceroy whose seat was in
Bergen, a larger, handsomer, and more southerly town
than Throndhjem, in spite of the disagreeable nickname
attached to it by the famous Admiral Tromp.
Throndhjem offers a pleasant prospect as you approach
it by the fjord to which the city gives its name. The
harbor is quite large, although it cannot be entered easily
in all weathers. At this time it resembled nothing so
much as a long canal, lined on the right by Danish and
Norwegian ships, and on the left by foreign vessels, as
prescribed by law. In the background lay the town,
situated on a well-cultivated plain, and crowned by the
lofty spires of the cathedral. This church—one of the
finest pieces of Gothic architecture, as we may judge from
Professor Shoenning's book, so learnedly quoted by
Spiagudry, which describes it as it was before repeated
fires had laid it waste—bore upon its highest pinnacle
the episcopal cross, the distinctive sign that it was the
cathedral of the Lutheran bishop of Throndhjem. Beyond
the town, in the blue distance, were the slender white
peaks of the Kiblen Mountains, like the sharp-pointed
ornaments on an antique crown.
In the middle of the harbor, within cannon-shot of the
shore, upon a mas^of rocks lashed by the waves, rose the
lonely fortress of iifunkholm, a gloomy prison which then
10
HANS OF ICELAND.
held a prisoner celebrated for the splendor of his long
prosperity and for his sudden disgrace.
Schumacker, born in an obscure station, was loaded
Avith favors by his master, then hurled from the chair of
the Lord High Chancellor of Denmark and Norway to the
traitor's bench, dragged to the scaffold, and thence by
royal clemency cast into a lonely dungeon at the extreme
end of the two kingdoms. His creatures had overthrown
him, but gave him no right to inveigh against their in¬
gratitude. Hoav could he complain if the steps gave way
beneath him, which he had built so high for his own
aggrandizement only ?
The founder of the Danish nobility, from the depth of
his exile, saw the grandees whom he had created share
his own dignities betAveen them. Count d'Ahlefeld, his
mortal enemy, succeeded him as chancellor; General
Arensdorf, as earl-marshal, distributed military titles, and
Bishop Spollyson took the position of inspector of uni¬
versities. The only one of his foes who did not owe his
rise to him Avas Count Ulric Frederic GuldenleAv, natural
son of King Frederic HI., and now viceroy of Norway.
He Avas the most generous of all.
ToAvard the somber rock of Munkholm the boat of the
youth with the black plume now slowly moved. The sun
sank rapidly behind the lonely fortress, whose walls cut
off its last beams, already so horizontal that the peasant
on the distant eastern hills of Larsynn might see beside
him on the heather the faint shadow of the sentinel keep¬
ing his watch on Munkholm's highest tower.
CHAPTER III.
Ah! my heart could receive no more painful wound 1 ... A
young man destitute of morals. ... He dared gaze at her! His
glance soiled her purity. Claudia ! The mere thought drives me
mad.—Lessing.
" Andrew, go and order them to ring the curfew bell in
half an hour. Let Sorsyll relieve Duckness at the port¬
cullis, and Malvidius keep watch on the platform of tho
great toAver. Let a careful lookout be kept in the direc-
HANS OF ICELAND.
11
tion of the Lion of Schleswig donjon. Do not forget to
fire the cannon at seven o'clock, as a signal to lift the
harbor chain. But no, we must wait a little for Captain
Dispolsen; better light the signals instead, and see if the
Walderhog beacon is lighted, as I ordered to-day. Be
sure to keep refreshments ready for the captain. And,
I forgot,—give Toric-Belfast, the second musketeer of
the regiment, two days' arrest; he has been absent all
day."
So said the sergeant-at-arms beneath the black and
smoky roof of the Munkholm guard-house, in the low
tower over the outer castle gate.
The soldiers addressed left their cards or bed to carry
out his orders; then silence Avas restored. At this mo¬
ment the measured beat of oars was heard outside.
" That must be Captain Dispolsen at last!" said the
sergeant, opening the tiny grated window which looked
out upon the gulf.
A boat was just landing at the foot of the iron gate.
" Who goes there ? " cried the sergeant in hoarse tones.
" Open!" was the answer; " peace and safety."
" There is no admittance here. Have you a passport ? "
"Yes."
" I must make sure of that. If you lie, by the merits
of my patron saint, you shall taste the waters of the gulf! "
Then, closing the lattice and turning away, he added: " It
is not the captain yet."
A light shone behind the iron gate. The rusty bolts
creaked, the grating rose, the gate opened, and the ser¬
geant examined a parchment handed him by the new¬
comer.
" Pass in," said he. " But stay," he added hastily,
" leave your hat-buckle outside. No one is allowed to
enter the prisons of the State wearing jeAvels. The order
declares that' the king and the members of the royal
family, th^ viceroy and members of the vice-regal family,
the bishop, and the officers of the garrison, are alone
excepted.' You come under none of these heads, do
you V "
The young man, without reply, removed the forbidden
ornament, and flung it to the fisherman who brought him
thither, in payiflent of his services; the latter, fearing
12
UANS OF ICELAND.
lest he might repent his generosity, made haste to put a
broad expanse of sea between the benefactor and his
benefit.
While the sergeant, grumbling at the chancellor's im-
prndence in being so prodigal with his passes, replaced
the clumsy bars, and while the lingering sound of his
heavy boots still echoed on the stairs leading to the guard¬
house, the young man, throwing his mantle over his shoul¬
der, hurriedly crossed the dark vault of the low tower,
the long parade-ground, and the ordnance-room, where lay
a few old dismantled culverins, still to be seen in the
Copenhagen museum, all nearer approach to which was
forbidden by the warning cry of a sentinel. He reached
the great portcullis, which was raised on sight of his
parchment. Thence, followed by a soldier, he crossed
diagonally, without hesitation, and like one familiar with
the place, one of the four square courts which skirt the
great circular yard, in Avhose midst rose the huge round
rock upon which stood the donjon, called the castle of
the Lion of Schleswig, from the forced sojourn there of
Jotham the Lion, Duke of Schleswig, held captive by his
brother, Rolf the Dwarf.
It is not our purpose to give a description of Munk-
holm keep, the more so that the reader, confined in a
State prison, might fear that he could not escape through
the garden. He would be mistaken; for the castle of the
Lion of Schleswig, meant for prisoners of distinction only,
among other conveniences affords them the pleasure of a
walk in a sort of wild garden of considerable extent,
where clumps of holly, a few ancient yews, and some dark
pines grow among the rocks around the lofty prison, in¬
side an enclosure of thick walls and huge towers.
Reaching the foot of the round rock, the young man
climbed the rude winding steps which lead to the foot of
one of the towers of the enclosure, having a postern below,
which served as the entrance to the keep. Here he blew
a loud blast on a copper horn handed to him by the war¬
der of the great portcullis. " Come in, come in ! " eagerly
exclaimed a voice from within; " it must be that con¬
founded captain!"
As the postern swung open, the new-comer saw, in a
dimly lighted Gothic apartment, a young officer stretched
nA\S OF ICELAND.
13
carelessly upon a pile of cloaks and reindeer-skins, beside
one of the three-beaked lamps which our ancestors used
to hang from the rose-work of their ceilings, and which
at this moment stood upon the ground. The elegance
and indeed excessive luxury of his dress was in strong
contrast with the hare walls and rude furniture; he held
a hook, and turned slightly toward the new-comer.
«Is it you. Captain ? How are you. Captain ? You little
suspected that you were keeping a man waiting who has
not the pleasure of your acquaintance ; hut our acquaint¬
ance will soon he made, will it not ? Begin by receiving
my commiseration upon your return to this venerable
eastle. Short as my stay here may he, I shall soon he about
as gay as the owl nailed at donjon doors to serve as scare¬
crow, and when I return to Copenhagen, to my sister's
wedding feast, the deuce take me if four women out of a
hundred will know me! Tell me, are the knots of pink
ribbon at the hem of my doublet still in fashion ? Has
any one translated a new novel by that Frenchwoman,
Mademoiselle Scudery ? I have' Clelia'; I suppose peo¬
ple are still reading it in Copenhagen. It is my code of
gallantry, now that I am forced to sigh remote from so
many bright eyes; for, bright as they are, the eyes of our
young prisoner—you know who I mean—have never a
message for me. Ah ! were it not for my father's orders!
... I must tell you in confidence. Captain, that my father,
—but don't mention it,—charged me to—you understand
me—Schumacher's daughter. But I have my labor for
my pains; that pretty statue is not a woman; she weeps
all day long and never looks at me."
The young man, unable thus far to interrupt the
officer's extreme volubility, uttered an exclamation of sur¬
prise :—
" What! What did you say ? Charged you to seduce
the daughter of that unfortunate Schumacker! "
« Seduce? Well, so be it, if that is the name you give
it now in Copenhagen; but I defy the Devil himself to
succeed. Day before yesterday, being on duty, I put on
for her express benefit a superb French ruff sent direct
from Paris. Would you believe that she never even
raised her eyes to look at me, although I passed through
her room thj«e or four times clinking my new spurs,
14
HANS OF ICELAND.
whose rowels are no bigger than a Lombardy ducat?
That's the newest fashion, isn't it ? "
" Heavens ! Heavens ! " said the young man, striking
his forehead; " but this confounds me !"
" I thought it would ! " rejoined the officer, mistaking
the meaning of the remark. " Not to take the least notice
of me ! It is incredible, and yet it is true."
The young man strode up and down the room in violent
excitement.
" Won't you take some refreshment, Captain Dispol-
sen ? " cried the officer.
The young man started.
" I am not Captain Dispolsen."
" What!" said the officer angrily, sitting up as he
spoke; " and pray who are you, then, that venture to in¬
troduce yourself here at this hour ? "
The young man displayed his papers.
" I wish to see Count Griffenfeld,—I would say, your
prisoner."
" The Count! the Count!" muttered the officer in
some displeasure. " But, to be sure, this paper is in
order; here is the signature of Vice-Chancellor Grum-
mond de Knud: ' Admit the bearer to visit all the royal
prisons at any hour and at any time.' Grummond de
Knud is brother to old General Levin de Knud, who is in
command at Throndhjem, and you must know that this
old general had the bringing up of my future brother-in-
law."
"Thanks for these family details. Lieutenant. Don't
you think you have told me enough of them ? "
" The impertinent fellow is right," said the lieutenant,
biting his lips. " Hullo, there, officer, officer of the tower!
Escort this stranger to Schumacker, and do not scold if I
have taken down your lamii with three beaks and but
one wick. I was curious to examine an article which is
doubtless the work of Sciold the Pagan or Havar the
giant-killer; and besides it is no longer the fashion to
hang anything but crystal chandeliers from the ceiling."
With these words, as the young man and his escort
crossed the deserted donjon garden, the martyr to fashion
resumed the thread of the love adventures of the Amazo-
jaian Clelia and Horatius the One-eyed.
HANS OF ICELAND,
15
CHAPTER IV.
Benvolio. Where the devil should this Romeo be ? Came he
not home to-night?
Mercutio. Not to his father's ; I spoke with his man.
Shakespeare : Romeo and Juliet.
A MAN and two horses entered the courtyard of the
palace of the governor of Throndhjem. The horseman dis¬
mounted, shaking his head with a discontented air. He
was about to lead the two animals to the stable, when
his arm was seized, and a voice cried: "How! You here
alone, Poel! And your master,—where is your master ? "
It was old General Levin de Knud, who, seeing from
his window the young man's servant and the empty
saddle, descended quickly, and fastened upon the groom a
gaze which betrayed even more alarm than his question.
"Your Excellency," said Poel, with a low bow, "my
master has left Throndhjem."
" What! has he been here, and gone again without see¬
ing his general, without greeting his old friend! And
how long since ? "
" He arrived this evening and left this evening."
" This evening,—this very evening! But where did he
stay ? Where has he gone ? "
" He stopped at the Spladgest, and has embarked for
Munkholm."
" Ah! I supposed he was at the antipodes. But what
is his business at that castle ? What took him to the
Spladgest? Just like my knight-errant. After all, I am
rather to blame, for why did I give him such a bringing
up ? I wanted him to be free in spite of his rank."
" Therefore he is no slave to etiquette," said Poel.
"No; but he is to his own caprice. Well, he will
doubtless return. Rest and refresh yourself, Poel. Tell
me," and the general's face took on an expression of
solicitude, " tell me, Poel, have you been doing much
running up and dbwn? "
16
HANS OF ICELAND.
" General, we came here direct from Bergen. My master
was melancholy."
" Melancholy ! "Why, what can have occurred between
him and his father ? Is he averse to this marriage ? "
" I do not know. But they say that his Serene High¬
ness insists upon it."
" Insists! You say, Poel, that the viceroy insists upon
this match! But why should he insist unless Ordener
refused ? "
" I don't know, your Excellency. He seems sad."
" Sad ! Do you know how his father received him ? "
" The first time, it was at the camp, near Bergen. His
Serene Highness said, ' I seldom see you, my son.' ' So
much the better for me, my lord and father,' replied my
master, ' if you take note of it.' Then he gave his Grace
certain details about his travels in the North, and his
Grace said; 'It is well.' Next day my master came
back from the palace and said: ' They want me to marry;
but I must consult my second father. General Levin.' I
saddled the horses, and here we are."
" Really, my good Foci," said the general, in trembling
tones, " did he really call me his second father ? "
"Yes, your Excellency."
"Wo to me if this marriage distresses him, for I will
sooner incur the king's displeasure than lend myself to it.
And yet, the daughter of the Lord High Chancellor of
both kingdoms—By the way, Poel, does Ordener know
that his future mother-in-law. Countess d'Ahlefeld, has
been here incognito since yesterday, and that the count
is expected ? "
" I don't know. General."
" Oh, yes," thought the old governor, " he knows it;
for why else should he beat a retreat the instant that he
arrived ? "
Upon this, the general, with a friendly wave of the
hand to Poel, and a salute to the sentinel who presented
arms to him, returned in anxious mood to the quarters
which he had left in anxious mood.
HANS OF ICELAND.
17
CHAPTER V.
It seemed as if every emotion had stirred his heart, and had
also deserted it ; nothing remained but the mournful, piercing
gaze of a man thoroughly familiar with men, who saw, at a
glance, the aim and object of all things.—Schiller : The
Visions.
When, after leading the stranger along the winding
stairs and lofty halls of the donjon of the Lion of Schleswig,
the officer finally threw open the door of the room oc¬
cupied by the man he sought, the first words that fell
upon his ear were once more these : " Has Captain Dis-
polsen come at last ? "
The speaker was an old man, seated Avith his back to
the door, his elbows on a writing-table, his head buried
in his hands. He wore a black woolen gown, and above
a bed at one end of the room hung a bro!:en escutcheon,
around which were grouped the broken collars of the
orders of the Elephant and the Dannebrog; a count's
coronet, reversed, was fastened under the shield, and two
fragments of a hand of Justice, tied crosswise, completed
the strange ornamentation. The old man was Schu-
macker.
" No, my Lord," replied the officer; then he said to the
stranger, " This is the prisoner;" and leaving them to¬
gether, he closed the door, without heeding the shrill voice
of the old man, who exclaimed: " If it is not the captain,
I will see no one."
At these words the stranger remained by the door; and
the prisoner, thinking himself alone,—for he had turned
away,—fell back into his silent revery. Suddenly he ex¬
claimed : " The captain has assuredly forsaken and be¬
trayed me I Men,—men are like the icicle which an Arab
took for a diamond; he hid it carefully in his Avallet, and
when he looked for it again he found not even a drop of
water."
" I am no such tnan," said the stranger.
18
HANS OF ICELAND.
Schumacker rose quickly. " Who is here ? Who over¬
hears me ? Is it some miserable tool of that Guldenlew ? "<
" Speak no evil of the viceroy, my lord Count."
" Lord Count! Do you address me thus to flatter me ?•
You have your labor for your pains ; I am powerful no
longer."
" He who speaks to you never knew you in your day of
power, and is none the less your friend."
" Because he still hopes to gain something from me ;
those memories of the unhappy which linger in the minds
of men are to be measured by the hopes of future
gain."
" I am the one who should complain, noble Count; for
I remember you, and you have forgotten me. I am
Ordener."
A flash of joy lit up the old man's sad eyes, and a smile
which he could not repress parted his white beard, as
when a sunbeam breaks through a cloud.
" Ordener! Welcome, traveler Ordener! A thousand
prayers for the happiness of the traveler who remembers
the prisoner ? "
" But," inquired Ordener, " had you really forgotten
me ? "
" I had forgotten you," said Schumacker, resuming his
somber mood, " as we forget the breeze which refreshes
us and passes by ; we are fortunate if it does not become
a whirlwind to destroy us."
" Count Griffenfeld," rejoined the young man, " did you
not count upon my return ? "
" Old Schumacker did not count upon it; bub there is a
maiden here, who reminded me this very day that it was
a year on the 8th of last May, since you went away."
Ordener started.
" Heavens! Can it be your Ethel, noble Count ? "
« Who else ? "
" Your daughter, my Lord, has deigned to count the
months of my absence! Oh, how many dreary days I
have passed ! I have traversed Norway from Christiania
toWardhus; but my journeyings always tended back
toward Throndhjem."
"Use your freedom, young man, while you may. But
tell me who you are. I would like, Ordener, to know you
HANS OF ICELAND.
10
by some other name. The son of one of my mortal foes
is called Ordener."
" Perhaps, my lord Count, this mortal foe feels greater
kindness for you than you for him."
"You evade my question ; but keep your secret. I
might learn that the fruit which quenches my thirst is a
poison which will destroy me."
" Count!" cried Ordener, angrily; « Count! " he re¬
peated, in tones of pity and reproach.
" Why should I trust you," replied Schumacker,—" you
who to my very face defend the merciless Guldenlew?"
" The viceroy," gravely interrupted the young man,
"has just ordered that for the future you shall be free
and unguarded within the entire precinct of the Lion of
Schleswig keep. This news I learned at Bergen, and you
will doubtless soon hear it from headquarters."
" This is a favor which I dared not hope, and I thought
you were the only person to whom I had mentioned my
wish. So they lessen the weight of my chains as that of
years increases; and when old age renders me helpless, they
will probably tell me, ' You are free.'"
So saying, the old man smiled bitterly, and added:
" And you, young man, do you still cling to your foolish
ideas of independence ? "
" If I had not those same foolish ideas, I should not be
here."
" How did you come to Throndhjem ? "
" Why, on horseback."
" How did you reach Munkholm ? "
" By boat."
" Poor fool! You think yourself free, and yet you only
leave a horse for a boat. It is not your own limbs that
carry out your wishes ; it is a brute beast, it is material
matter ; and you call that free will! "
" I force animate beings to obey me."
" To assume a right to the obedience of certain beings
is to give others a right to command you. Independence
exists only in isolation."
" You do not love mankind, noble Count?"
The old man laughed sadly. " I weep that I am a man,
and I laugli at him who would console me. You will yet
learn, if you do not already know, that misfortune creates
20
HANS OF ICELAND.
suspicion as prosperity does ingratitude. Tell me, since
you come from Bergen, what favoring winds blow upon
Captain Dispolsen. Some good fortune must have be¬
fallen him, that he forgets me."
Ordener looked grave and embarrassed.
" Dispolsen, my lord Count ? I come here to-day to
talk to you of him. I know that he possessed your en¬
tire confidence."
"You know?" broke in the prisoner, uneasily. "You
are mistaken. No one on earth has my confidence. Dis¬
polsen has, it is true, my papers, and very important
papers too. He went to Copenhagen, to the king, for me.
I may even confess tiiat I reckoned more surely upon him
than upon any one else, for in the days of my prosperity
I never did him a service."
"Well, noble Count, I saw him to-day—"
" Your distress tells me the rest; he is a traitor."
" He is dead."
" Dead !"
The prisoner folded his arms and bent his head, then
looking up at the "young man, said: "I told you some
good fortune must have befallen him! "
His eye turned to the wall, where the signs of his
former grandeur hung, and he waved his hand, as if
to dismiss the witness of a grief which he strove to
conquer.
"I do not pity him, 'tis but one man the less. Nor
do I pity myself ; what have I to lose ? But my daughter,
—my unfortunate daughter ! I shall be the victim of this
infernal plot; and what is to become of her, if her father
is taken from her ? "
He turned quickly to Ordener. "How did he die?
Where did you see him ? "
" I saw him at the Spladgest. No one knows whether
he died by suicide or by the hand of an assassin."
" That is now all-important. If he was murdered, I
know who dealt the blow. Then all is lost. He bore
proofs of the conspiracy against me. Those proofs might
have saved me and ruined them! Unhappy Ethel 1"
" JMy lord Count," said Ordener, bowing, " to-morrow
I will tell you whether he was murdered."
Schumacker, without answering, cast on Ordener, as
nANfi OF ICELAND.
21
he left the room, a look of quiet despair more terrible
then the calm of death.
Ordener found himself in the prisoner's empty ante¬
chamber, not knowing which way to turn. Night was
far advanced and the room was dark. He opened a door
at haphazard and entered a vast corridor lighted only by
the moon, which moved rapidly through pale clouds. Its
misty beams fell now and again upon the long, narrow
glass windows, and painted on the opposite wall what
seemed a procession of ghosts, appearing and disappearing
simultaneously in the depths of the passage. The young
man slowly crossed himself, and walked toward a light
which shone faintly at the end of the corridor.
A door stood ajar; a young girl knelt in a Gothic
oratory, at the foot of a bare altar, reciting in low tones
litanies to the Virgin,—simple and sublime aspiration, in
which the soul that rises toward the Mother of Seven
Sorrows asks nothing but her prayers.
The young girl was dressed in black crape and white
gauze, as if to show at a glance that her days had hitherto
been passed in grief and innocence. Even in this modest
attitude she bore the impress of a strange nature. Her
eyes and her long hair were black (a very rare beauty in
the North); her eyes, raised to heaven, seemed kindled
with rapture rather than dimmed by meditation. She
seemed a virgin from the shores of Cyprus or the banks
of the Tiber, clad in the fanciful disguise of one of Ossian's
characters and prostrate before the wooden cross and
stone altar of Christ Jesus.
Ordener started and almost fell, for he recognized the
devotee.
She was praying for her father, for the mighty who
had fallen, for the old and desolate prisoner; and she re¬
cited aloud the psalm of the deliverance out of Egypt.
She prayed for another as well, but Ordener did not hear
his name. He did not hear it, for she did not utter it; she
merely recited the canticle of the Sulamite, the bride who
awaits her bridegroom and the return of her beloved.
Ordener stepped back into the gallery; he respected
the maiden holding converse with the sky. Prayer is a
great mystery, and bis heart was involuntarily filled with
unknown but profane ecstasy.
2'2
HANS OF ICELAND.
The door of the oratory was gently closed. Soon a
light borne by a white figure moved toward him through
tlie darkness. He stood still, for he felt one of the
strongest emotions of his life; he leaned against the
gloomy wall; his body was weak, and his limbs trembled
beneath him. In the silence of his entire being the beating
of his heart was plainly audible to his own ear.
As the young girl passed, she heard the rustle of a
garment, and a quick, sudden gasp, and cried out in
terror.
Ordener rushed forward. With one arm he supported
her, with the other he vainly tried to grasp the lamp
which she had dropped, and which went out.
" It is I," he said softly.
" It is Ordener! " said the girl ; for the last echo of
that voice, which she had not heard for a year, still rang
in her ear.
And the moon, passing by, revealed the joy of her fair
face. Then she repeated, in timid confusion, freeing her¬
self from the young man's arms, " It is my lord Ordener."
" Himself, Countess Ethel."
" Why do you call me countess ? "
" Why do you call me my lord ? "
The young girl smiled, and was silent. The young
man was silent, and sighed. She was first to break the
silence.
" How came you here ? "
" Pardon me, if my presence disturbs you. I came to
see the count, your father."
"Then," said Ethel, in a changed tone,"you only came
for my father's sake."
The young man bent his head, for these words seemed
to him unjust.
" I suppose you have been in Throndhjem a long time,"
she continued reproachfully, " I suppose you have been
here a long time already? Your absence from this castle
cannot have seemed long to you."
Ordener, deeply wounded, made no reply.
" You are right," said the prisoner, in a voice which
trembled with anger and distress; " but," she added in a
haughty tone, " I hope, my lord Ordener, that you did not
overhear my prayers ? "
BANS OF ICELAND.
23
" Countess," reluctantly replied the young man, " I did
hear you."
" Ah! my lord Ordener, it was far from courteous to
listen."
" I did not listen, noble Countess," said Ordener in a
low voice ; " I overheard you accidentally."
" I prayed for my father," rejoined the girl, looking
steadily at him, as if expecting an answer to this very
simple statement.
Ordener was silent.
" I also prayed," she continued uneasily, and apparently
anxious as to the effect which her words might produce
upon him, " I also prayed for some one who bears your
name, for the son of the viceroy, Count Guldenlew. For
we should pray for every one, even our persecutors."
And she blushed, for she thought she was lying ; but
she was offended with the young man, and she fancied
that she had mentioned him in her prayers ; she had only
named him in her heart.
" Ordener Guldenlew is very unfortunate, noble lady, if
you reckon him among the number of your persecutors ;
and yet he is very fortunate to possess a place in your
prayers."
" Oh, no," said Ethel, troubled and alarmed by his cold
manner, " no, I did not pray for him. I do not know
what I did, nor what I do. As for the viceroy's son, I
detest him; I do not know him. Do not look at me so
sternly; have I offended you ? Can you not forgive a
poor prisoner,—you who spend your days in the society
of some fair and noble lady, free and happy like your¬
self ? "
" I, Countess !" exclaimed Ordener.
Ethel burst into tears; the young man flung himself at
her feet.
" Did you not tell me," she continued, smiling through
her tears, " that your absence seemed to you short ? "
" Who, I, Countess ? "
" Do not call me countess," said she, gently ; " I am no
longer a countess to any one, and far less to you."
The young man sprang up, and could not help clasping
her to his heart in,convulsive delight.
" Oh, my adored Ethel, call me your own Ordener!
24
HANS OF ICELAND.
Tell me,"—and his ardent glances rested on her eyes wet
with tears,—" tell me, do you love me still ? "
The young girl's answer went unheard, for Ordener, car¬
ried away by his emotions, snatched from her lips with
her reply that first favor, that sacred kiss, which in
the sight of God suffices to make two lovers man and
wife.
Both were speechless, because the moment was one of
those solemn ones, so rare and so brief in this world,
when the soul seems to feel something of celestial bliss.
These instants when two souls thus converse in a lan¬
guage understood by no other are not to be described; then
all that is human is hushed, and the two immaterial
beings become mysteriously united for life in this world
and eternity in the next.
Ethel slowly withdrew from Ordener's arms, and by
the light of the moon each gazed into the other's face
with ecstasy; only, the young man's eye of fire flashed
with masculine pride and leonine courage, while the
maiden's downcast face was marked by that modesty and
angelic shame which in a virgin beauty are always blended
with all the joys of love.
"Were you trying to avoid me just now," she said at
last, " here in this corridor, my Ordener ? "
" Not to avoid you. I was like the unfortunate blind
man who is restored to sight after the lapse of long years,
and who turns away fi'oin the light's first radiance."
" Your comparison is more applicable to me, for during
your absence my only pleasure has been the presence of
a wretched man, my father. I spent my weary days in
trying to comfort him, and," she added, looking down,
" in hoping for your coming. I read the fables of the Edda
to my father, and when he doubted all men, I read him
the Gospel, that at least he might not doubt Heaven;
then I talked to him of you, and he was silent, which shows
that he loves you. But when I had spent my evenings
in vainly watching the arrival of travelers by various
roads, and the ships which anchored in the harbor, he
shook his head with a bitter smile, and I wept. This
prison, where my whole past life has been spent, grew
hateful to me ; and yet my father, who until you came
•yvas all-sufficient for my wants, was still here; but you
HANS OF ICELAND.
25
were not here, and I longed for that liberty which I had
never known."
There was a charm which no tongue can express, in the
maiden's eyes, in the simplicity of her love, and the sweet
hesitation of her confession. Ordener listened with the
dreamy delight of a being who has been removed from
the world of reality to enjoy an ideal world.
" And I," said he, " no longer desire that liberty which
you do not share ! "
" What, Ordener!" quickly exclaimed Ethel, " will you
leave us no more ? "
These words recalled the young man to all that he had
forgotten.
" My Ethel, I must leave you this very night. I will
see you again to-morrow, and to-morrow I must leave you
again, to remain until I may return never more to leave
you."
" Alas! " mournfully broke in the girl, " must you leave
me again ? ■*
" I repeat, my beloved Ethel, that I will come back
soon to wrest you from this prison or bury myself in it
with you."
" A prisoner with him ! " she said softly. " Ah ! do
not deceive me. Must I only hope for such happiness ? "
" What oath do you require ? What would you have
me do ? " cried Ordener; " tell me, Ethel, are you not my
wife ? " And in a transport of affection he pressed her
to his heart.
" I am yours," she whispered.
The two pure and noble hearts throbbed rapturously
together, and were but purer and nobler for the embrace.
At this moment a violent burst of laughter was heard
close by. A man wrapped in a cloak opened a dark lan¬
tern which he had concealed, and the light suddenly re¬
vealed Ethel's alarmed, confused face and Ordener's proud
but astonished features.
" Courage, my pretty pair! Courage! It strikes me
that after so short a walk in the regions of Romance you
can scarcely have followed all the windings of the stream
of Sentiment, but that you must have taken a short-cut
to reach the village of Kisses so quickly."
Our readers have doubtless recognized the lieutenant
36
HANS OF ICELAND.
who SO cordially admired Mademoiselle de Scudery.
Roused from his reading of " Clelia " by the midnight
bell, which the two lovers had failed to hear, he started
on his nightly rounds. As he passed the end of the
eastern corridor, he caught a few words, and saw what
seemed two ghosts moving in the gallery by the light of
the moon. Being naturally bold and curious, he hid his
lantern under his cloak, and advanced on tiptoe to the
two phantoms, so disagreeably awakened from their
ecstasy by his sudden burst of laughter.
Ethel made a movement to escape from Ordener; then,
returning to his side as if instinctively, and to ask his
protection, she hid her burning blushes on her lover's
breast.
He raised his head with all the dignity of a king.
"Wo," said he, "wo to him who has frightened and
distressed you, Ethel! "
" Yes, indeed," said the lieutenant; "wo befall me if
I am so unfortunate as to alarm so sensitive a lady! "
" Sir Lieutenant," haughtily exclaimed Ordener," I com¬
mand you to be silent!"
" Sir Insolent," replied the officer, " I command you to
be silent!"
" Do you hear me ? " returned Ordener in tones of
thunder. " Buy pardon by your silence."
" 7'ibi tua^'' responded the lieutenant; " take your own
advice,—buy pardon by your silence ! "
" Silence ! " cried Ordener in a voice which made the
windows shake ; and seating the trembling girl in one of
the old arm-chairs in the corridor, he grasped the officer
rudely by the arm.
" Oh, clown! " said the lieutenant, half laughing, half
angry; "don't you see that the doublet which you are
so mercilessly crushing is made of the finest Abingdon
velvet ? "
Ordener looked him full in the face.
" Lieutenant, my patience is not so long as my sword."
" I understand you, my fine fellow," said the lieutenant,
with a sardonic smile. "You want me to do you the
honor to fight with you. But do you know who I am ?
No, no, if you please! Prince with prince; clown with
clown,' as the fair Leander has it."
HANS OF ICELAND.
27
" If he had added, «Coward witn coward,'" Ordener
replied, " I should assuredly never have the distinguished
honor of measuring weapons with you."
"I would not hesitate, most worthy shepherd, if you
did but wear a uniform."
"I have neither lace nor fringes. Lieutenant; but I
wear a sword."
The proud youth, flinging back his cloak, set his cap
firmly on his head and grasped his sword-hilt, when
Ethel, roused by such imminent danger, seized his arm
and clasped his neck, with an exclamation of terror and
entreaty.
" You are wise, my pretty mistress, if you do not want
your young coxcomb punished for his temerity," said the
lieutenant, who at Ordener's threats had put himself
upon his guard without any show of emotion; " for Cyrus
was about to quarrel with Cambyses,—if it be not too
great an honor to compare this rustic to Cambyses."
" For Heaven's sake. Lord Ordener," said Ethel, " do
not make me the cause and witness of such a misfortune !"
Then lifting her lovely eyes to his, she added, " Ordener,
I implore you !"
Ordener slowly replaced his half-drawn blade in its
scabbard, and the lieutenant exclaimed,—
" By my faith. Sir Knight,—I do not know whether
you be a knight, but I give you the title because you seem
to deserve it,—let us act according to the laws of valor,
if not of gallantry. The lady is right. Engagements like
that which I believe you Avorthy to enter upon with me
should not be witnessed by ladies, although—begging this
charming damsel's pardon—they may be caused by them.
We can therefore only properly discuss the dmllum remo-
tum here and now, and as the offended party if you will
fix the time, place, and weapons, my fine Toledo blade or
my Merida dagger shall be at the service of your chop-
ping-knife from the Ashkreuth forges or your hunting-
knife tempered in Lake Sparbo."
The " duel adjourned," which the officer suggested was
usual in the North, where scholars aver that the custom
of duelling originated.
The most valiant gentlemen offered and accepted a
duellum remotum. It was sometimes deferred for several
28
HANS OF ICELAND.
months, or even years, and during that space of time the
foes must not allude by word or deed to the matter which
caused the challenge. Thus in love both rivals forbore
to see their sweetheart, so that things might remain un¬
changed. All confidence was put in the loyalty of a
knight upon such a point; as in the ancient tournament,
if the judges, deeming the laws of courtesy violated, cast
their truncheon into the arena, instantly every combatant
stayed his hand; but until the doubt was cleared up, the
throat of the conquered man must remain at the selfsame
distance from his victor's sword.
"Very well. Chevalier," replied Ordener, after a brief
refiection; " a messenger shall inform you of the place."
" Good!" answered the lieutenant; " so much the bet¬
ter. That will give me time to go to my sister's wed¬
ding ; for you must know that you are to have the honor
of fighting with the future brother-in-law of a great lord,
the son of the viceroy of Norway, Baron Ordener Gulden-
lew, who upon the occasion of this ' auspicious union,' as
Artamenes has it, will be made Count Daneskiold, a
colonel, and a knight of the Order of the Elephant; and
I myself, who am a son of the lord high chancellor of
both kingdoms shall undoubtedly be made a captain."
"Very good, very good. Lieutenant d'Ahlefeld," impa¬
tiently exclaimed Ordener, " you are not a captain yet,
nor is the son of the viceroy a colonel; and swords are
always swords."
" And clowns always clowns, in spite of every effort to
lift them to our own level," muttered the soldier.
" Chevalier," added Ordener, " you know the laws of
duelling. You are not to enter this donjon again, and
you are not to speak of this affair."
" Trust me to be silent; I shall be as dumb as Mutius
Scsevola when he held his hand on the burning coals. I
will not enter the donjon again, nor permit any Argus of
the garrison to do so; for I have just received orders to
allow Schumacher to go unguarded in future, which order
I was directed to convey to him to-night,—as I should
have done had I not spent most of the evening in trying
on some new boots from Cracow. The order, between
you and me, is a very rash one. Would you like to have
me show you my boots ? "■
TIANS OF ICELAND.
29
During this conversation Ethel, seeing that their anger
was appeased, and not knowing the meaning of a duellum
remotum, had disappeared, first softly whispering in
Ordener's ear, " To-morrow."
" I wish. Lieutenant d'Ahlefeld, that you would help
me out of the fortress."
" Gladly," said the officer, " although it is somewhat
late, or rather very early. But how will you find a
boat ? "
" That is my affair," said Ordener.
Then, chatting pleasantly, they crossed the garden, the
circular courtyard, and the square court, Ordener escorted
by the officer of the guard, meeting with no obstacle;
they passed through the great gate, the ordnance-room,
the parade-ground, and reached the low tower, whose
iron doors opened at the lieutenant's order.
" Good-by, Lieutenant d'Ahlefeld," said Ordener.
" Good-by," replied the officer. " I declare that you are
a brave champion, although I do not know who you are
or whether those of your peers whom you may bring to
our meeting will be entitled to assume the position of
seconds, and ought not rather confine themselves to the
modest part of witnesses."
They shook hands, the iron grating was closed, and the
lieutenant went back, humming an air by Lully, to enjoy
his Polish boots and French novel.
Ordener, left alone upon the threshold, took off his
clothes, which he wrapped in his cloak and fastened upon
his head with his sword-belt; then, putting into practice
Schumacker's principles of independence, he sprang into
the still, cold waters of the fjord, and swam through the
darkness towards the shore, in the direction of the Splad-
gest,—a pomt which he was almost sure to reach, dead
or alive.
The fatigues of the day had exhausted him, so that it
was only with great difficulty that he landed. He
dressed himself hastily, and walked towards the Splad-
gest, which reared its black bulk before him, the moon
having been for some time completely veiled.
As he approached the building he heard the sound of
voices; a faint light shone from the opening in the roof.
Amazed, he knoeked loudly at the square door. The
30
HANS OF ICELAND.
noise ceased ; the light disappeared. He knocked again.
The light reappeared, and he saw a black figure climb out
of the hole in the roof and vanish. Ordener knocked for
the third time with the hilt of his sword, and shouted:
" Open, in the name of his Majesty the King! Open, in
the name of his Serene Highness the Viceroy! "
The door opened slowly, and Ordener found himself face
to face with the pale features and tall, thin figure of
Spiagudry, who, his clothes in disorder, his eyes fixed, his
hair standing erect, his hands covered with blood, held a
lamp, whose flame trembled less visibly than his long and
lanky figure.
CHAPTER YI.
Pirro. Never!
Angela. What! I believe you would try to play the virtuous
man. Wretch ! If you utter a single word—
Pirro. But, Angelo, I beseech you, for the love of God—
Angela. Do not meddle with what you cannot prevent.
Pirra. Ah ! When the Devil holds one by a single hair, as well
yield him the entire head. Unhappy that I am !
Emiua Galotti.
An hour after the young traveler with the black plume
left the Spladgest, night fell, and the crowd dispersed.
Oglypiglap closed the outer door of the funereal structure,
while his master, Spiagudry, gave the bodies deposited
within a final sprinkling. Then both withdrew to their
scantily furnished abode, and while Oglypiglap slept upon
his wretched pallet, like one of the corpses intrusted to
his care, the venerable Spiagudry, seated at a stone table,
covered with old books, dried plants, and fleshless bones
was buried in grave studies which, although really very
harmless, had done no little to give him a reputation
among the people, for sorcery and witchcraft,—the dis¬
agreeable consequence of science at this period.
He had been absorbed in his meditations for some hours,
and, ready at last to exchange his books for his bed, he
paused at this mournful passage from Thormodr Torfesen :
" When a man lights his lamp, death is beside him ere it
be extinguished."
BANS OP ICELAND.
31
" With the learned doctor's leave," he muttered, " he
shall nov be beside me to-night."
And he took up his lamp to blow it out.
« Spiagudry!" cried a voice from the room where the
corpses lay.
The old man shook from head to foot. Not that he
believed, as another might have done in his place, that the
gloomy guests of the Spladgest had risen in revolt against
their master. He was enough of a scholar to be proof
against such imaginary terrors; and his alarm was genuine,
because he knew the voice which called him only too well.
" Spiagudry ! " angrily repeated the voice, " must I come
and pull oft your ears before I can make you hear me ? "
" Saint Hospitius have mercy, not on my soul, but on
my body!" said the terrified old man; and with a step
both hastened and delayed by fear, he moved towards the
second side door, which he opened. Our readers have not
forgotten that this door led into the mortuary.
His lamp lit up a strange and hideous scene,—on the one
hand, the thin, tall, stooping figure of Spiagudry; on the
other, a short, stout man, dressed from head to foot in the
skins of wild beasts, still stained with dried blood, stand¬
ing at the feet of Gill Stadt's corpse, which, with the dead
bodies of the young girl and the captain, occupied the
background. These three mute witnesses, buried in
shadow, were the only ones who could behold, without
flying in horror, the two living beings who now entered
into conversation.
The features of the little man, thrown into vivid relief
by the light, were singularly wild and fierce. His beard
was red and bushy, and his forehead, hidden under an
elkskin cap, seemed bristling with hair of the same color;
his mouth was large, his lips thick, his teeth white, sharp,
and far apart, his nose hooked like an eagle's beak; and
his grayish-blue eyes, which were extremely quick, flashed
a side glance at Spiagudry, in which the ferocity of a tiger
was only tempered by the malice of a monkey. This sin¬
gular character was armed with a broadsword, an un¬
sheathed dagger, and a stone ax, upon whose long handle
he leaned; his hands were covered with thick gloves
made of a blue fox-skin.
" That old ghosf keeps me waiting a long time," said he.
3:2
HANS OF ICELAND.
as if talking to himself; and he uttered a sound like the
roar of a wild beast.
Spiagudry would certainly have turned pale with fright,
had he been capable of turning paler than he was.
" Do you know," continued the little man, addressing
him directly, " that I come from TJrchtal Sands ? Do you
want to change your straw bed for one of these beds of
stone, that you keep me waiting thus ? "
Spiagudry trembled more than ever; the two solitary
teeth left to him chattered in his head.
" Excuse me, master," said he, bending his long back to
a level with the little man; " I was asleep."
" Do you want me to make you acquainted with a far
sounder sleep than that ? "
Spiagudry's face assumed an expression of terror, the
only thing which could be more comic than his expression
of mirth.
" Well! what is it ? " continued the little man. " What
ails you ? Is my presence disagreeable to you ? "
" Oh, my lord and master!" replied the old keeper,
«there can surely be no greater happiness for me than to
see your Excellence."
And the effort which he made to twist his frightened
face into a smil^ would have unbent the brow of any but
the dead.
" Tailless old fox, my Excellence commands you to hand
over the clothes of Gill Stadt."
As he uttered this name, the little man's fierce, mocking
features grew dark and sad.
" Oh, master, pardon me, but I no longer have them!"
said Spiagudry. "Your Grace knows that we are obliged
to turn over the property of all workers in the mine to
the Crown, the king inheriting by right of their being his
wards."
The little man turned to the corpse, folded his arms, and
said in a hollow voice: "He is right. These miserable
miners are like the eider duck; * their nests are made for
them, but their down is plucked from them."
Then raising the corpse in his arms and hugging it to
* The Norwegian peasants build nests for the eider duck, sur¬
prise them while sitting on their young, and strip them of their
down.
Raising the corpse in his arms and hugging it to his heart, he be¬
gan to utter wild yells of love and grief. Page 33.
Hans of Iceland.
HANS OF ICELAND.
33
his hearts he began to utter wild yells of love and grief
like the howls of a bear caressing her young. With these
inarticulate sounds were blended, at intervals, a few words
in a strange lingo, which Spiagudry did not understand.
He let the corpse drop back upon the stone, and turned
towards the guardian.
" Do you know, accursed sorcerer, the name of the ill-
fated soldier who was so unlucky as to be preferred by
that girl to Gill ? "
And he kicked the cold remains of Guth Sterson.
Spiagudry shook his head.
"Well! by the ax of Ingulf, the first of my race, I
will exterminate every wearer of that uniform!" and he
pointed to the officer's dress. " He on whom I must be
avenged will surely be of the number. I will burn down
the entire forest to consume the poisonous shrub that it
contains. I swore it on the day that Gill died, and I
have already given him a companion that will delight his
corpse. Oh, Gill! so there you lie, lifeless and powerless,
—you who outswam the seal, outran the deer; you who
outwrestled the bear in the mountains of Kiolen. There
you lie motionless —you who traversed the province of
Throndhjem, from the Orkel to the Lake of Miosen, in a
single day ; you who climbed the peaks of the Dovrefjeld
as the squirrel climbs the oak. There you lie mute and
dumb. Gill,—you who on the stormy summits of Kongs-
berg sang louder than the thunder's roar. Oh, Gill! so it
is in vain that for your sake I filled up the Faroe mines ;
in vain for your sake I burned the Throndhjem cathedral.
All my labor is in vain, and I shall never see the race
of the children of Iceland, the descendants of Ingulf the
Destroyer, perpetuated in you; you will never inherit my
stone ax; but you leave me the legacy of your skull,
from which I may henceforth drink sea-water and the
blood of men."
With these words he seized the corpse by the head,
exclaiming: " Help me, Spiagudry!" And pulling off his
gloves, he displayed his broad hands, armed with long,
hard, crooked nails, like the claws of a wild beast.
Spiagudry, seeing him about to hew off the corpse's
head with his swqj-d, cried out with unconcealed horror,
" Good heavens 1 master I A dead man I "
3
34
BAyft OF ICELAND.
" Well," calmly responded the little man, " would you
rather have me sharpen my blade upon a living one ? "
"Oh, let me entreat your Grace— How can your
Excellency commit such profanation ? Your Worship—
Sir, your Serenity would not—"
«Are you done ? Do I require all these titles, living
skeleton, to believe in your deep respect for my sahre ? "
"By Saint Waldemar! By Saint tjsuph! In the name
of Saint Hospitius, spare the dead! "
" Help me, and do not talk of saints to the devil! "
"My lord," continued the suppliant Spiagudry, "by
your illustrious ancestor. Saint Ingulf—"
" Ingulf the Destroyer was an outlaw like myself."
" In the name of Heaven," said the old man, falling on
his knees, " whose anger I would spare you!"
Impatience overcame the little man. His dull gray
eyes flashed like a couple of live coals.
" Help me! " he repeated, flourishing his sword.
These words were uttered in the voice which might
beseem a lion, could he speak. The keeper, shuddering
and half dead with fright, sat down upon the black stone
slab, and held Gill's cold, damp head in his hands, while
the little man, by means of sword and dagger, removed
the crown with rare skill.
When his task was done, he gazed at the bloody skull
for some time, muttering strange words; then he handed
it over to Spiagudry, to be cleaned and prepared, saymg
with a sort of howl,—
" And I, when I die, shall not have the comfort of
thinking that an heir to the soul of Ingulf will drink sea-
water and the blood of men from out my skull."
After a mournful pause, he added,—
" The hurricane is followed by a hurricane, each ava¬
lanche brings down another avalanche, but I shall be the
last of my race. Why did not Gill hate every human
face even as I do. What demon foe to the demon of In¬
gulf urged him into those fatal mines in search of a hand¬
ful of gold ? "
Spiagudry, who now returned with Gill's skull, inter¬
rupted him: "Your Excellency is right; even gold, as
Snorri Sturleson says, may often be bought at too high a
price."
HANS OF ICELAND.
35
"You remind me," said the little man, "of a commis¬
sion I have for you; here is an iron casket which I found
upon yonder officer, all of whose property, as you see, did
not fall into your possession ; it is so firmly fastened, that
it must contain gold,—the only thing precious in the eyes
of men. You will give it to widow Stadt, in Thoctree
village, to pay her for her son."
He drew a small iron box from his reindeer-skin knap¬
sack. Spiagudry received it with a low bow.
" Obey my orders faithfully," said the little man, with
a piercing glance ; " remember that nothing can prevent
two demons from meeting ; I think you are even more of
a coward thaii a miser, and you will answer to me for that
box."
" Oh, master, with my soul !"
" Not at all. With your flesh and bones."
At this moment the outer door of the Spladgest echoed
with a loud knock. The little man was amazed ; Spia¬
gudry tottered, and shaded his lamp with his hand.
" Who is there ? " growled the little man. « And you,
old villain, how you will shake when you hear the last
trump sound, if you shiver so now ! "
A second and louder knock was heard.
" It is some dead man in haste to enter," said the
little man.
" No, master," muttered Spiagudry, " no corpses are
brought here after midnight."
" Living or dead, he drives me hence. You, Spiagudry,
be faithful and be dumb. I swear to you, by the spirit of
Ingulf and the skull of Gill, that you shall see the dead
bodies of the entire regiment of Munkholm pass through
your hostelry in review."
And the little man, binding Gill's skull to his belt, and
drawing on his gloves, hurried, with the nimbleness of a
goat, and by the help of Spiagudry's shoulders, through
the opening in the roof, where he vanished.
A third knock shook the whole Spladgest, and a voice
outside commanded him to open in the name of the king
and viceroy. Then the keeper, moved alike by two dif¬
ferent terrors,—one of which might be called the terror
of memory, and the other of hope,—hurried toward the
low door, and openfid it.
HANS OF ICELAND.
CHAPTER VII.
In the pursuit of such pleasure as may be found in temporal
felicity, she wore herself out, on rough and painful paths, with¬
out ever attaining her object.—Confessions of Saint Augustine.
Returning to his closet after leaving Poel, the governor
of Throndhjem ensconced himself in a big easy-chair, and
to distract his thoughts directed one of his secretaries to
read over the petitions presented to the government.
Bowing low, the secretary began :—
" 1. The Rev. Dr. Anglyvius prays that a substitute
may be provided for the Rev. Dr. Foxtipp, the head of
the Episcopal library, on account of his incompetency.
The petitioner does not know who should take the place
of the said incompetent doctor; he would merely state
that he. Dr. Anglyvius, has for a long time exercised the
functions of librari—"
" Send the rascal to the bishop," interrupted the general.
" 2. Athanasius Munder, priest and chaplain to the
prisons, asks pardon for twelve penitent convicts on the
occasion of the glorious marriage of his Grace, Ordener
Guldenlew, Baron Thorwick, Knight of the Dannebrog,
son of the viceroy, and the noble lady Ulrica d'Ahlefeld,
daughter of his Grace the lord high chancellor of the two
kingdoms."
" Lay it on the table," said the general. " I pity
convicts."
" 3. Faustus-Prudens Destrombides, Norwegian subject
and Latin poet, asks leave to write the epithalamium for
the said noble pair."
" Ah, ha ! The worthy man must be growing old, for
he is the same man who wrote a)i epithalamium in 1674,
for the marriage planned between Schumacker, then Count
of Griffenfeld, and Princess Louisa Charlotte of Holstein-
Augustenburg,—a marriage which never took place. I
fear," muttered the governor, " that Faustus-Prudens is
destined to be the poet of broken matches. Lay his peti¬
tion on the table, and go on. Inquire, on behalf of the
HANS OF ICELAND.
37
said poet, if there be not a vacant bed at the Throndhjem
hospital."
" 4. The miners of Guldbrandsdal, the Faroe Islands,
Snnd-Moer, Hubfallo, Roeraas, and Kongsberg, petition
to be released from the costs of the royal protectorate."
" These miners are restless. I hear that they are even
beginning to grumble at our long delay in answering their
petition. Let it be laid aside for mature consideration."
" 5. Braal, fisherman, declares, in virtue of the Odels-
recht,* that he persists in his intention of buying back his
patrimony.
" 6. The magistrates of Noes, Loevig, Indal, Skongen,
Stod, Sparbo, and other towns and villages of Northern
Throndhjem, pray that a price may be set upon the head
of the assassin, thief, and incendiary, Hans, said to be a
native of Klipstadur, in Iceland. Nychol Orugix, exe¬
cutioner for the province of Throndhjem, who claims
that Hans is his property, opposes the petition. Benig-
nus Spiagudry, keeper of the Spladgest, to whom the
corpse should belong, supports the petition."
"That robber is a very dangerous fellow," said the
^general, " particularly now that we are threatened with
trouble among the miners. Issue a proclamation offering
a thousand crowns reward for his head."
"7. Benignus Spiagudry, doctor, antiquary, sculptor,
mineralogist, naturalist, botanist, lawyer, chemist, me¬
chanic, physicist, astronomer, theologian, grammarian—"
" Why," broke in the general, " is not this the same
Spiagudry who keeps the Spladgest ? "
"Yes, to be sure, your Excellency," replied the secre¬
tary,—" keeper, for his Majesty, of the institution of the
Spladgest, in the royal city of Throndhjem, sets forth that
he, Benignus Spiagudry, discovered that the stars called
fixed are not lighted by the star called the sun; item, that
the real name of Odin is Frigg, son of Fridulf; item, that
the marine lobworm feeds on sand ; item, that the noise
of the inhabitants drives the fish away from the coast of
* The Odelsrecht was a singular law establishing a species of
Vntail among the Norwegian peasantry. Any man who was
compelled to part with his patrimony might prevent the pur¬
chaser from transferi^ng it, by declaring every tenth year that
he intended to buy it bank.
38
HANS OF ICELAND. .
Norway, so that the means of subsistence are growing
less in proportion to the increase of the population; item,
that the fjord known as Otte-Sund was formerly known
as Limfjord, and only took the name of Otte-Sund after
Otho the Red cast his spear into it; item, he sets forth
that it was by his advice and under his direction that an
old statue of Freya was changed into the statue of Justice,
which now adorns the market-place in Throndhjem, and
that the lion found at the feet of the idol has been turned
into a devil, symbolizing crime ; item—"
" Oh, spare me the rest of his eminent services ! Let
me see,—what does he want ? "
The secretary turned over several pages, and went
on:
" Your most humble petitioner feels that he may justly
petition your Excellency, in return for so many useful
labors in the domain of science and literature, to increase
the reward to ten escalins for every corpse, male or fe¬
male, which cannot but be gratifying to the dead,
approving the value set upon their bodies."
Here the door opened, and the usher in a loud voice
announced, " The noble lady. Countess d'Ahlefeld."
At the same time a tall woman, wearing the small
coronet of a countess, richly dressed in scarlet satin
trimmed with gold fringe and ermine, entered, and ac¬
cepting the hand which the general offered her, seated
herself beside him.
The countess was perhaps fifty years old. Age had
added little to the furrows with which pride and ambition
had long since marked her face. She looked at the old
governor haughtily, and with an artificial smile.
"Well, General, your ward delays. He should have
been here before sunset."
" He would have been here, my lady Countess, if he had
not gone to Munkholm upon his arrival."
" To Munkholm! I hope it was not to see Schumacker ? "
" That may be."
" Could Baron Thorwick's first visit be to Schumaeker!"
« Why not. Countess ? Schumacker is unfortunate and
unhappy."
" What, General! Is the viceroy's son on familiar terms
with a prisoner of state 'i "
HANS OF ICELAND.
39
" When Frederic Guldenlew confided his son to my care,
he begged me, noble lady, to bring him up as if he were my
own. I thought that an acquaintance with Schumacher
might be useful to Ordener, who is destined some day to
wield such power; consequently, with the viceroy's per¬
mission, I obtained from my brother, Grummond de Knud,
a permit to enter all the prisons, which I gave to Ordener.
He often uses it."
" And how long, noble General, has Baron Ordener had
the pleasure of this useful acquaintance ? "
"Rather more than a year, Countess. It seems that
Schumacker's society pleased him, for it kept him at
Throndhjem for a long time; and it was only reluctantly,
and by my express request, that he left the city last year
to vi.sit Norway."
" And does Schumacker know that his comforter is the
son of one of his greatest enemies ? "
" He knows that he is a friend, and that is enough for
him, as for us."
" But you, General," said the countess, with a searching
look," when you tolerated—nay, encouraged—this connec¬
tion, did you know that Schumacker had a daughter ? "
" I knew it, noble Countess."
" And this fact seemed to you of no importance to your
pupil ? "
"The pupil of Levin de Knud, the son of Frederic
Guldenlew, is an honest man. Ordener knows the barrier
which separates him from Schumacker's daughter; he is
incapable of winning the affection, unless his purpose was
upright, of any girl, above all the daughter of an unfor¬
tunate man."
The noble Countess d'Ahlefeld blushed and paled. She
turned away her head to avoid the calm gaze of the old
man, as if it were that of an accuser.
" But," she stammered, " this connection strikes me.
General,—let me speak my mind,—as strange and impru¬
dent. It is said that the miners and tribes of the North
are threatening to revolt, and that the name of Schumacker
is mixed up with the affair."
" Noble lady, you surprise me ! " exclaimed the gov¬
ernor. " Schumacker has hitherto borne his misfortunes
calmly. The report is doubtless ill-founded."
40
HANS OF ICELAND.
At this moment the door opened, and the usher an¬
nounced that a messenger from his Grace the lord high
chancellor wished to speak with the noble countess.
The lady rose hurriedly, took leave of the governor,
and while he continued his inspection of the petitions she
hastened to her apartments in a wing of the palace, direct¬
ing that the messenger should follow her.
She had been seated on a rich sofa in the midst of her
women for a few instants only, when the messenger en¬
tered. The countess on seeing him made a slight gesture
of aversion, which she hid at once by a friendly smile.
And yet the messenger's appearance was not at all re¬
pulsive. He was a man of somewhat diminutive stature,
whose plumpness suggested anything else rather than a
messenger. Still, a close study of his face showed it to
be frank to the point of impudence, and his look of good-
humor had a spice of deviltry and malice. He bowed
low to the countess, and offered her a package sealed with
silk thread.
"Noble lady," said he, "deign to permit me to venture
to lay at your feet a precious message from his Grace
your illustrious husband, my revered master."
" Is he not coming himself ? And why did he choose
you as his messenger ? " inquired the countess.
" Important business delays the coming of his Grace, as
this letter will inform you. Madam. For myself, I am by
the orders of my noble master to enjoy the distinguished
honor of a private interview with you."
The countess turned pale, and exclaimed in a trembling
voice, "With me,—me, Musdoemon?"
" If it distresses the noble lady in the slightest degree,
her unworthy servant -will be reduced to despair."
" Distress me! No, of course not," returned the coun¬
tess, trying to smile. "But is this conversation so es¬
sential?"
The messenger bowed down to the ground.
" Absolutely essential. The letter which the illustrious
countess has deigned to receive from my hands probably
contains a formal order to that effect."
It was strange to see the proud Countess d'Ahlefeld
tremble and turn pale before a servant who paid her such
profound respect. !She slowly opened the iJiiekage and
HANS OF ICELAND.
41
read its contents. After a second reading she turned to
her women, and said in a faint voice: " Go; leave us
alone."
" I hope the noble lady," said the messenger, bending
his knee, " will deign to pardon the liberty which I
venture to take and the trouble which I seem to cause
her."
" On the contrary," replied the countess, with a forced
smile, " I assure you that I am very happy to see you."
The women withdrew.
" Elphega, have you forgotten that there was a time
when you were not averse to being alone with me ? "
It was the messenger who addressed the noble coun¬
tess, and the words were accompanied by a laugh like
that uttered by the Devil, at the instant that his compact
expires and he seizes the soul which sold itself to him.
The great lady bowed her humbled head.
"Would that I had indeed forgotten it!" she mur¬
mured.
" Poor fool! Why should you blush for things which
no human eye ever saw ? "
" God sees what men do not see."
"God, weak woman! You are not worthy to deceive
your husband, for he is less credulous than you."
"Your insults to my remorse are scarcely generous,
Musdcemon."
" Well, if you feel remorse, Elphega, why insult it your¬
self by daily committing fresh crimes ? "
The Countess d'Ahlefeld hid her face in her hands;
the messenger continued: " Elphega, you must choose:
remorse and more crimes, or crime and no more remorse.
Do as I do: choose the second course; it is better—at
least it is more cheerful."
" Heaven grant," said the countess, in low tones, " that
those words may not be counted against you in eternity."
" Come, my dear, a truce to jest."
Then Musdcemon, seating himself behind the countess,
and putting his arm about her neck, added: " Elphega,
try to be, at least in imagination, what you were twenty
years ago."
The unfortunate (jountess, the slave of her accomplice,
strove to respond to his loathsome caresses. There was
42
HANS OF ICELAND.
something too revolting, even for these degraded souls, in
this adulterous embrace of two beings who scorned and
despised each other. The illegal caresses which had once
delighted them, and which some horrible and unknown
expediency compelled them still to lavish upon each other,
now tortured them. Strange but just change of guilty
affections! Their crime had become their punishment.
The countess, to cut short this guilty torment, at last
asked her odious lover, tearing herself from his arms, with
what verbal message her husband had charged him.
"D'Ahlefeld," said Musdoemon, "just as he was about
to see his power confirmed by the marriage of Ordener
Guldenlew to our daughter—"
" Our daughter! " exclaimed the haughty countess; and
she fixed her eye on Musdoemon with a look of pride and
contempt.
"Well," coldly continued the messenger, "I think that
Ulrica is at least as much mine as his. I was saying that
the match would not be wholly satisfactory to your hus¬
band unless Schumacker could at the same time be de¬
stroyed. In his remote prison the old favorite is yet
almost as much to be dreaded as in his palace. He has
obscure but powerful friends at court,—powerful because
they are obscure; and the king, learning a month since
that the chancellor's negotiations with the Duke of Hol-
stein-Ploen were at a standstill, cried out impatiently:
' Griffenfeld knew more than all of them put together.'
A schemer named Dispolsen, come from IMunkholm to
Copenhagen, had several secret interviews with him, after
which the king sent to the chancellor's office for Schu-
macker's patents of nobility and title-deeds. No one
knows the object of Schumacer's ambition; but if he
desire nothing but his liberty, for a prisoner of state that
is the same as to desire power! He must therefore die,
and must die by authority of justice ; we are now striving
to invent a crime for him. Your husband, Elphega, on
the plea of inspecting the northern provinces incognito,
will assure himself of the result of our underhand deal¬
ings among the miners, whom we hope to incite to rebel,
in Schumacker's name, which revolt we can easily put
down later. What troubles us is the loss of certain im-
portuiit papers relating to this plot, and which we have
nAXS OF ICELAND.
43
every reason to believe have fallen into the hands of Dis-
polsen. Knowing that he had set out to return to Munk-
holm, carrying to Schumacker his parchments, his diplo¬
mas, and possibly these documents which might ruin, or
at least compromise us, we posted certain faithful men in
the gorges of Kiblen, directing them to rid us of him, after
robbing him of his papers. But if, as we are assured,
Dispolsen left Bergen by water, our efforts in that quar¬
ter are in vain. However, as I came along I gathered
vague reports of the murder of a captain by the name of
Dispolsen. We shall see. Meantime we are searching
for a famous bandit, Hans, called Hans of Iceland, whom we
wish to put at the head of the revolt in the mines. And
you, my dear,—what news have you for me here ? Has
the pretty bird at Munkholm been caught in her cage ?
Has the old minister's daughter finally fallen a prey to
our falcofulvus, our son Frederic?"
The countess, recovering her pride, again exclaimed:
" Our son! "
" I' faith, how old may he be ? Twenty-four. We have
known each other some twenty-six years, Elphega."
"God knows," cried the countess, " my Frederic is the
chancellor's lawful heir."
"If God knows it," laughingly replied the messenger,
" the Devil does not. Moreover, your Frederic is but a
presumptuous youngster, quite unworthy of me, and it
is not worth our while to quarrel for such a trifle. He
is only fit to make love to a girl. Has he at least suc¬
ceeded ? "
" Not yet, so far as I know."
" Oh, Elphega, do try to play a less passive part in our
affairs. The count and myself, as you see, are tolerably
active. I return to your husband to-morrow. For mercy's
sake, do not confine yourself to praying for our sins, like
the Madonna whom the Italians invoke when about to
commit a murder! D'Ahlefeld, too, must see to reward¬
ing me a little more munificently tlian he has hitherto
done. My fortune is closely connected with yours; but
I am tired of being the husband's servant when I am the
wife's lover, and of being only the tutor, the teacher, the
pedagogue, when I g,m almost the father."
At this instant midnight struck, and one of the women
44
BANS OF ICELAND.
entered, reminding the countess that by the palace regu¬
lations all lights must be put out at that hour.
The countess, glad to end a painful interview, recalled
her attendants.
" Permit me, gracious Countess," said Musdcemon, as
he withdrew, " to retain a hope of seeing you to-morrow,
and to lay at your feet my homage and sincere respect."
CHAPTER VIII.
It cannot be but thou hast murdered him ;
So should a murderer look ; so dead, so grim!
Shakespeare : Midsummer Night's Bream.
" Upon my honor, old man," said Ordener to Spiagu-
dry, " I began to think that the corpses who lodge in this
building would have to open the door."
" Excuse me, sir," replied the keeper, in whose ears the
names of king and viceroy still rang, as he repeated his
trite excuse, " I was—I was sound asleep."
" Then I suppose your dead men do not sleep, and it
was probably they whom I heard talking just now."
Spiagudry was confused.
" You—stranger,—you—heard ? "
" Oh, yes! but what does it matter ? I did not come
here to meddle with your affairs, but to interest you in
mine. Let us go inside."
Spiagudry was by no means anxious to allow the new¬
comer to see Gill's body, but these last words comforted
him considerably; and besides, how could he prevent his
entrance ?
He accordingly allowed the young man to pass, and
closing the door, said : " Benignus Spiagudry is at your
service in all that relates to human science; yet if, as
your unseasonable visit seems to show, you suppose that
you are dealing with a sorcerer, you are wrong ; nefamam
credax ; I am only a learned man. Enter my laboratory,
stranger."
"Not at all," said Ordener; "my errand is with these
corpses."
HANS OF ICELAND.
45
" These corpses!" said Spiagudry, beginning to tremble
again. "But, sir, you cannot see them."
" What! I cannot see bodies which are placed here for
the sole purpose of being seen! I repeat, that I wish to
question you concerning one of them; it is your duty to
answer. Obey cheerfully, old man, or you will be forced
to obey."
Spiagudry had a sincere respect for swords, and he saw
the flash of steel at Ordener's side.
" Nihil non arrogat armis,^'' he muttered; and fumbling
with his bunch of keys, he opened the grating, and
admitted the stranger into the second section of the
hall.
" Show me the captain's clothes," said the latter.
At this instant a ray from the lamp fell upon Gill
Stadt's bloody head.
"Good God!" exclaimed Ordener, "what abominable
sacrilege 1"
"Great Saint Hospitius, pity me!" sighed the poor
keeper.
" Old man," continued Ordener, in threatening tones,
"are you so remote from the tomb that you can safely vio¬
late the respect which is its due ? And do you not fear,
wretched fellow, that the living will teach you what you
owe to the dead ? "
" Oh," cried the poor keeper, " mercy ! It was not I!
If you only knew—" And he stopped; for he remembered
the little man's words : " Be faithful, be dumb." " Did
you see any one escape through that aperture ? " he asked
faintly.
" Yes; was it your accomplice ? "
" No ; it was the guilty man, the only guilty man! I
swear it by all the torments of hell, by all the blessings
of heaven, by this same body so infamously profaned ! "
and he fell upon the pavement before Ordener.
Hideous as Spiagudry was, there was yet an accent of
truth in his despair and protestations, which convinced
the young man.
" Old man," said he, " rise ; and if you did not outrage
death, do not degrade age."
The keeper rose^ Ordener continued: " Who is the
culprit ? "
46
HANS OF ICELAND.
"Oh, silence, noble youth! You know not of whom
you speak. Silence! "
And Spiagudry mentally repeated: " Be faithful, be
dumb."
Ordener answered coldly: " Who is the culprit ? I
must know!"
" In Heaven's name, sir, do not say so! Be silent, for
fear—"
" Fear will not silence me, but shall make you
speak."
" Excuse me; forgive me, young master!" said the
agonized Spiagudry. " I cannot."
" You can, for I insist. Tell me the profaner's name!"
Spiagudry still strove to evade.
" Well, noble master, the profaner of this corpse is the
assassin of that officer."
" Then that officer was murdered ? " asked Ordener, re¬
minded, by this abrupt transition, of the object of his
search.
" Yes, undoubtedly, sir."
" And by whom —by whom ? "
" In the name of the saint on whom your mother called
when she gave you birth, do not seek to know his name,
young master; do not force me to reveal it."
" If my desire to know it required any spur, you would
add it, old man, in the shape of curiosity. I command
you to name the murderer."
"Well, then," said Spiagudry, "see these deep wounds,
made by long, sharp nails on the body of this unfortunate
man. They will name the assassin."
And the old man showed Ordener a number of ugly
scratches on the naked, freshly washed corpse.
" What!" said Ordener, " was it some wild beast ? "
" No, my young lord."
" But unless it was the Devil—"
" Hush ! Beware, lest your guesses come too close to
the mark. Did you never hear," added the keeper in a
low voice, "of a man or a monster with human face,
whose nails are as long as those of Ashtaroth who ruined
us all, or of Antichrist who will yet destroy us ? "
" Speak more plainly."
«' Wo unto you!' says the Apocalypse—"
IIANS OF ICELAND.
47
" I demand the assassin's name!"
" The assassin—his name ? My lord, have pity on me;
have pity on yourself! "
" The second of those prayers would destroy the first,
even if serious reasons did not compel me to tear
that name from your lips. Abuse my patience no
longer."
" So be it, if you insist, young man," said Spiagudry,
raising himself, and in a loud voice. " The murderer, the
profaner, is Hans of Iceland."
This terrible name was not unknown to Ordener.
" What!" he cried, " Hans ! that execrable bandit!"
" Do not call him a bandit, for he has no followers."
" Then, wretch, how do you know him ? What common
crimes have brought you together ? "
" Oh, noble master, do not stoop to believe in appear¬
ances. Is the oak-tree poisonous because the serpent finds
shelter within its trunk ? "
"No idle words! A scoundrel has no friend who is not
an accomplice."
" I aril not his friend, and still less his accomplice; and
if all my oaths fail to convince you, sir, let me implore you
to observe that this monstrous sacrilege exposes me,
twenty-four hours hence, when Gill Stadt's body is to be
removed, to the torture allotted to those guilty of profa¬
nation, and thus casts me into the most fearful state of
anxiety CA^er endured by innocent man."
These considerations of personal interest moved Ordener
more than the suppliant voice of the poor keeper, much
of whose pathetic though useless resistance to the little
man's sacrilegious act they had doubtless inspired. Or¬
dener reflected a moment, while Spiagudry tried to read
in his face whether this pause meant peace or boded a
storm.
At last he said, in a severe though quiet tone: " Old
man, speak the truth! Did you find any papers upon
that officer ? "
" None, upon my honor."
" Do you know if Hans of Iceland found any ? "
" I swear by Saint Hospitius that I do not know."
" You do not knew ? Do you know where this Hans of
Iceland hides ? "
48
HANS OF ICELAND.
" He never hides; he roams about perpetually."
" Perhaps ; but where is his deu ? "
" That pagan," whispered the old man, " has as many
dens as the island of Hittern has reefs, or the dog-star
rays."
" I order you again," broke in Ordener," to speak in plain
terms. Let me set you an example; hearken. You are
mysteriously allied with a brigand, whose accomplice you
still declare that you are not. If you know him, you must
know where he has gone. Do not interrupt me. If you
are not his accomplice, you will not hesitate to lead me in
search of him! "
Spiagudry could not contain his fright.
" You, noble lord! you,—great God ! full of youth and
life,—you would provoke, seek out that demon! When
four-armed Ingiald fought the giant Nyctolm, at least,
he had four arms!"
" Well," said Ordener, with a smile, " if four arms are
a requisite, will you not be my guide ? "
" I! your guide ! How can you jest with an old man
who almost needs a guide himself?"
" Listen," replied Ordener; " do not try to jest with me.
If this profanation, of which I would fain believe you in¬
nocent, exposes you to be punished for sacrilege, you can¬
not stay here. You must fly. I offer you my protection,
but on condition that you lead me to the brigand's lair.
Be my guide, I will be your saviour. Nay, more: if I
catch Hans of Iceland, I shall bring him here, dead or
alive. You can then prove your innocence, and I promise
to restore your office. Stay; meantime, here are more
coins than your place brings you in a year."
Ordener, by keeping his purse until the last, had ob¬
served that gradation in his arguments required by the
wholesome laws of logic. They were strong enough in
themselves to make Spiagudry consider. He began by
taking the money.
"Noble master, you are right," said he; and his eye,
hitherto vague and uncertain, was fixed upon Ordener.
" If I follow you, I incur the future vengeance of the ter¬
rible Hans. If I stay, I fall to-morrow into the hands of
Orugix the hangman. What is the penalty of sacrilege ?
Never mind. In either case, my poor life is in danger; but
HANS OF ICELAND.
4!)
as, according to the wise remark of Saemond-Sigfusson,
otherwise called the Sage, inter duo pericula cequaliu,
ifiinus imminens eligendum est, I will follow you. Yes, sir, I
will be your guide. Pray do not forget, however, that I
have done all I could to dissuade you from your daring
scheme."
"Very good," said Ordener. "Then you will be my
guide. Old man," he added, with a meaning glance, " I
count upon your fidelity."
" Oh, master! " replied the keeper, " Spiagudry's faith
is as pure as the gold which you so graciously gave me."
" Let it remain so, or I will show you that the steel
which I bear about me is as sterling as my gold. Where
do you think Hans of Iceland is ? "
" Why, as the southern part of the province of Thrond-
hjem is full of troops sent thither on some errand of the
lord chancellor, Hans must have gone in the direction of
Walderhog cave, or toward Lake Miosen. Our road lies
through Skongen."
" When can you start ? "
" At the close of the day now dawning, when night falls
and the Spladgest is closed, your poor servant will begin
his duties as your guide, for which he must deprive the
dead of his care. We will try to hide the mutilation of
the miner from the eyes of the people for this one day."
" Where shall I meet you to-night ? "
" In the market place, if it please my master, near the
statue of Justice, which was formerly Freya, and which
will doubtless protect me with her shadow, in gratitude
for the fine devil which I had carved at her feet."
Spiagudry would probably have repeated the terms of
his petition to the governor, had not Ordener interrupted
him.
" Enough, old man ; it is a bargain."
" A bargain," repeated the keeper.
He had scarcely uttered these words, when a low growl
was heard above their heads. The keeper shuddered.
" What is that ? " he said.
" Is there not," asked Ordener, equally surprised, " any
other living being dwelling here besides yourself ? "
"You remind m^ of my assistant, Oglypiglap," replied
Spiagudry, reassured by the thought. " It was probably
4 . ''
50
HANS OF ICELAND.
his snores which we heard. A sleeping Lapp, Bishop
Arngrimmsson says, makes as much noise as a waking
woman."
As they talked, they approached the door of the Splad-
gest. Spiagudry opened it softly.
" Good-by, young sir," he said to Ordener ; «may
Heaven keep you merry. Good-by until to-night. If
your road lead you by the cross of Saint Hospitius, deign
to utter a prayer for your wretched servant, Benigniu
Spiagudry."
Then hastily closing the door, as much through fear of
being seen as to guard his lamp from the early morning
breezes, he returned to Gill's corpse, and did his best so to
arrange it that the wound might not be perceived.
Many reasons combined to persuade the timid keeper
to accept the stranger's perilous offer The motives for
his bold resolve may be ranked as follows : (1) fear of
Ordener here and now; (2) dread of Orugix the hangman;
(3) an ancient grudge against Hans of Iceland,—a grudge
which he scarcely dared acknowledge even to himself,
so strong was the power of fear ; (4) a love of science,
which would benefit largely by his journey; (5) confi¬
dence in his own cunning, which would enable him to
evade Hans; (6) a wholly speculative attraction for cer¬
tain metal contained in the young adventurer's purse, and
probably also in the iron casket stolen from the captain
and intended for Widow Stadt, a message which now ran
a great risk of never leaving the messenger's hands.
Still another and a final reason was the well or ill
founded hope of returning sooner or later to the post
which he was about to desert. Besides, what did it mat¬
ter to him whether the robber killed the traveler, or the
traveler the robber ? At this point in his meditations
he could not help saying aloud : " It will be one more
corpse for me, anyho\y."
Another growl was heard, and the unhappy keeper
shivered.
" Indeed, that is not Oglypiglap's snore," said he ;
" that noise comes from without."
Then, after a moment's thought, he added: " How silly
I am to be so frightened ! The dog on the wharf prob¬
ably waked and barked."
HANS OF ICELAND.
51
Then he finished his arrangement of Gill's disfigured
remains, and closing all the doors, threw himself upon
his mattress to sleep off the fatigue of the past night and
gain strength for the coming one.
CHAPTER IX.
Juliet. Oh, think'st thou we shall ever meet again ?
Romeo. I doubt it not : and all these woes shall serve
For sweet discourses in our time to come.
Shakespeare : Romeo and Juliet.
The signal-light at Munkholm castle had just been
extinguished, and in its place the sailor entering Thrond-
hjem fjord saw the helmet of the soldier on guard gleam
from afar in the beams of the rising sun like a planet
moving in its orbit, when Schumacker, leaning on his
daughter's arm, came down as usual into the garden
which surrounded his prison. Both had spent a restless
night,—the old man unable to sleep, the maiden kept
awake by happy thoughts. They walked in silence for a
time ; then the aged prisoner said, fixing a sad and seri¬
ous gaze upon the lovely girl
" You blush and smile at your own thoughts, Ethel ;
you are happy, for you have no cause to blush for the
past, and you smile at the future."
Ethel blushed still deeper, and her smile faded.
" My lord and father," she stammered in confusion, «I
brought the volume containing the Edda."
" Very well ; read, my daughter," said Schumacker ;
and he resumed his meditations.
Then the melancholy captive, seated on a black rock
shaded by a dark fir, listened to his daughter's sweet voice
without heeding the words which she read, as a thirsty
traveler delights in the murmur of the stream that
quenches his fever.
Ethel read him the story of the shepherdess Allanga,
who refused a king until he proved himself a warrior.
Prince Ragnar-Lodbrok could not win the maid until he
returned triumphant over the robber of Klipstadur, Ingulf
the Destroyer. •
52
HANS OF ICELAND.
Suddenly a sound of footsteps and the rustling of the
foliage interrupted the reading and roused Schumacker
from his revery. Lieutenant d'Ahlefeld appeared from
behind the rock upon which they sat. Ethel's head
drooped as she recognized their tormentor, and the
officer exclaimed :—
"I' faith, fair lad}'^, your lovely lips just uttered the
name of Ingulf the Destroyer. I heard you, and I pre¬
sume that you were talking of his grandson, Hans of Ice¬
land, and that reminded you of him. Ladies love to talk
of robbers. By the way, there are tales of Ingulf and his
descendants which are both fearful and interesting. In¬
gulf the Destroyer had but one son, born of the witch
Thoarka ; that son also had but one son, whose mother
was likewise a witch. For four centuries the race has
been perpetuated thus for the desolation of Iceland, there
being always a single scion, Avho never produces more
than one offshoot. By this series of solitary heirs the
infernal spirit of Ingulf has been handed down to the
present day, and flourishes in the famous Hans of Iceland,
who was doubtless so happy as to occupy your virgin
thoughts just now."
The officer paused for an instant. Ethel was silent
from embarrassment, Schumacker from vexation. De¬
lighted to find them willing, if not to answer, at least to
listen, he added,—" The Klipstadur outlaw's one passion
is a hatred of the human race, his one thought to harm
them."
" He is wise," abruptly remarked the old man.
" He always lives alone," resumed the lieutenant.
" He is fortunate," said Schumacker.
The lieutenant was charmed by this double interrup¬
tion, which seemed to seal a compact for conversation.
" May the god Mithra preserve us," he cried, " from
such wise men and such fortunate men! Accursed be the
evil-minded zephyr which brought the last demon of Ice¬
land to Norway. I was wrong to say evil-minded, for
they say it was a bishop to whom we owe the pleasure of
possessing Hans of Klipstadur. If we may believe the
story, certain Iceland peasants, having captured little
Hans among the Bessestad mountains in his infancy, were
about to kill him, as Astyages slew the Bactrian lion's
HANS OF ICELAND.
53
whelp ; but the bishop of Scalholt interfered, and took
the cub under his own protection, hoping to make a
Christian of the devil. The good bishop tried in a thou¬
sand ways to develop his infernal intellect, forgetting that
the hemlock cannot be changed into a lily even in the
hot-houses of Babylon. So when the young devil grew
up, he repaid all this care by escaping one fine night upon
the trunk of a tree, across the seas, lighting his flight by
setting the bishop's house on fire. That's the old women's
account of the way this Icelander came to Norway, and
now, thanks to his education, he affords us a perfect type
of the monster. Since then the destruction of the Faroe
mines, the death of three hundred men crushed beneath the
ruins, the overthrow of the hanging rock at Golyn at mid¬
night upon the village below, the fall of Half-Broer bridge
from the rocks upon the high-road, the burning of Thrond-
hjem cathedral, the extinction of beacon-lights upon the
coast on stormy nights, and countless crimes and murders
hidden in Lakes Spar bo or Miosen, or concealed in the caves
of Walderhog and Bylass, and in the gorges of the Dovre-
f jeld, bear witness to the presence of this Ahriman * in¬
carnate in the province of Throndhjem. The old women
declare that a new hair grows in his beard with every
fresh crime ; in that case his beard must be as luxuriant
as that of the most venerable Assyrian magi. Yet you
must have heard, fair lady, how often the governor has
tried to stop the extraordinary growth of that beard."
Schumacker again broke the silence.
" And has every effort to capture this fellow," he asked
with a look of triumph and an ironical smile, " been un¬
successful ! I congratulate the chancellor."
The officer did not understand the ex-chancellor's sar¬
casm.
" Hans has hitherto proved as invincible as Horatius
Codes. Old soldiers, young militiamen, country boors,
mountaineers, all fly or die before him. He is a demon
who can neither be avoided nor caught; the best luck
that can befall those who go in search of him is not to
find him. You may be surprised, gracious lady," he went
on, seating himself familiarly beside Ethel, who drew
*The Persian god of evil.
51
HAyS OF ICELAND.
nearer to her father," at all my curious anecdotes concern¬
ing this supernatural being. It was not without a pur¬
pose that I collected these strange traditions. It seems
to me—and I shall be pleased if you, fair lady, share my
opinion—that the adventures of Hans would'make a deli¬
cious romance, after the style of Mademoiselle de Scudery's
sublime stories, ' Artamenes,' or ' Clelia,' only six volumes
of which latter I have yet read, but it is none the less a
masterpiece in my eyes. Of course we should have to
soften our climate, dress up our traditions, and modify
our barbarous names. For instance, Throndhjem, which
I should call ' Durtinianum,' should see its forests con¬
verted, by a touch of my magic wand, into delightful
groves watered by a thousand streamlets far more poetic
than our hideous torrents. Our dark, deep caves should
give place to charming grottos carpeted with gilded peb¬
bles and azure shells. In one of these grottos should live
a famous magician, Hannusof Thule. For you must own
that the name Hans of Iceland is by no means agreeable.
This giant,—you must feel that it would be absurd not
to make the hero of such a work a giant,—this giant
should descend in a direct line from the god Mars (Ingulf
the Destroyer affords no food for imagination) and the
enchantress Theona,—don't you think I have made a
happy change in the name Thoarka ?—daughter of the
Cumean sibyl. Hannus, after being educated by the great
Magian of Thule, should finally escape from the pontiff's
palace in a car drawn by two dragons,—it would be very
narrow-minded to cling to the shabby old legend of the
trunk of a tree. Reaching the land of Durtinianum, and
ravished by that enchanting region, he should choose it
as the place of his abode and the scene of his crimes. It
would be no easy matter to draw an agreeable picture of
the robberies of Hans. However, we might soften their
horror by an ingeniously planned love-affair. The shep¬
herdess Alc'yppe, walking one day with her lamb in a grove
of myrtles and olives, should be noticed by the giant, who
should suddenly yield to the magic of her eyes. But
Alcyppe should love the handsome Lycidas, an ofiicer of
the militia, garrisoned in her village. The giant shonld
be annoyed by the centurion's happiness, and the centu¬
rion by the giaut's attentions. You can fancy, dear lady.
HANS OF ICELAND.
55
how charming such imaginative powers might make the
adventures of Hannus. I will wager my Polish boots
against a pair of slippers that such a subject, treated by
Mademoiselle de Scudery, would set all the women in
Copenhagen wild with delight."
The last words roused Schumacher from the melan¬
choly thoughts in which he had been buried during the
lieutenant's fruitless display of brains.
" Copenhagen !" he exclaimed. " What news is there
from Copenhagen, Sir Officer?"
" None, i' faith, that I know of," replied the lieutenant,
" save that the king has given his consent to the great
marriage which is just now occupying the thoughts of
both kingdoms."
" What!" rejoined Schumacker; " what marriage ? "
The appearance of a fourth speaker arrested the words
on the lieutenant's lips.
All three looked up. The prisoner's moody features
brightened, the lieutenant's frivolous face grew grave, and
Ethel's sweet countenance, which had been pale and con¬
fused during the officer's long soliloquy, again beamed
with life and joy. She sighed heavily, as if her .heart
were eased of an intolerable weight, and her sad smile
rested upon the newcomer. It was Ordener.
The old man, the girl, and the officer were placed in a
singular position toward Ordener ; they had each a secret
in common with him, therefore each felt embarrassed by
the presence of the other. Ordener's return to the don¬
jon was no surprise to Schumacker or Ethel, who were
expecting him ; but it amazed the lieutenant as much as
the sight of the lieutenant astonished Ordener, who
might have feared some indiscretion on the part of the
officer in regard to the scene of the previous night, if the
silence ordained by the etiquette of dueling had not reas¬
sured him. He could therefore only be surprised at see¬
ing him quietly seated between his two prisoners.
These four persons could say nothing while together,
for the very reason that they would have had much to
say had they been alone. Therefore, aside from glances
of intelligence and embarrassment, Ordener met with an
absolutely silent reaeption.
The lieutenant burst out laughing.
56
HANS OF ICELAND.
« By the train of the royal mantle, my dear newcomer,
here's a silence by no means unlike that of the senators
of Gaul when Brennus the Roman— Upon my honor,
I have forgotten which were the Romans and which the
Gauls,—the senators or the general. Never mind. Since
you are here, help me to enlighten this worthy old gen¬
tleman as to the news. I was just about to tell him,
when you made your sudden entry on the stage, about
the famous marriage which is now absorbing both Medes
and Persians."
"What marriage?" asked Ordener and Schumacker
with a single voice.
" By the cut of your clothes. Sir Stranger," cried the
lieutenant, clapping his hands, " I guessed that you came
from some.other world. Your present question turns my
doubt to certainty. You must have landed only yester¬
day on the banks of the Nidder in a fairy-car drawn by
two winged dragons; for you could not have traveled
through Norway without hearing of the wonderful mar¬
riage of the viceroy's son and the lord chancellor's
daughter."
Schumacker turned to the lieutenant.
"What! Is Ordener Guldenlew to marry Ulrica
d'Ahlefeld? "
" As you say," replied the officer; " and it will all he
settled before the fashion of French farthingales reaches
Copenhagen."
" Frederic's son must be about twenty-two years old,
for I had been in Copenhagen fortress a year when the
news of his birth reached me. Let him marry young,"
added Schumacker with a bitter smile. " When disgrace
comes upon him, at least no one can accuse him of having
aspired to a cardinal's hat."
The old favorite alluded to one of his own misfortunes,
of which the lieutenant knew nothing.
" No, indeed," said he, laughing heartily. " Baron
Ordener will receive the title of count, the collar of the
Order of the Elephant, and a colonel's epaulettes, which
would scarcely match with the cardinal's hat."
" So much the better," answered Schumacker. Then
after a pause he added, shaking his head as if he saw his
revenge before him, " Some day they may make an iron
nAyS OF ICELAND.
57
collar of his fine order; they may break his count's coro¬
net over his head; they may strike him in the face with
his colonel's epaulettes."
Ordener seized the old man's hand.
"For the sake of your hatred, sir, do not curse an
enemy's good fortune before you know whether it be good
fortune in his eyes."
" Pooh!" said the lieutenant. " What are the old fel¬
low's railings to Baron Thorwick ? "
" Lieutenant," cried Ordener, " they may be more to
him than you think. And," he added, after a brief
silence, " your grand marriage is not so certain as you
suppose."
'■'■Fiat quod vis" rejoined the lieutenant, with an ironical
bow; " the king, the viceroy, and the chancellor have, it
is true, made every arrangement for the wedding; but if
it displeases you. Sir Stranger, what matter the lord
chancellor, the viceroy, and the king! "
" You may be right," said Ordener, seriously.
" Oh, by my faith! " —and the lieutenant threw himself
back in a fit of laughter,—" this is too good! How I wish
Baron Thorwick could hear a fortune-teller so well in¬
structed in regard to the things of this world decide his
fate. Believe me, my learned prophet, your beard is not
long enough for a good sorcerer."
" Sir Lieutenant," coldly answered Ordener, " I do not
think that Ordener Guldenlew will ever marry a woman
whom he does not love."
" Ha, ha! here we have the Book of Proverbs. And
who tells you. Sir Greenmantle, that the baron does not
love Ulrica d'Ahlefeld ? "
" And, if it please you, in your turn, who tells you
that he does ? "
Here the lieutenant, as often happens, was led by the
heat of the conversation into stating a fact of which he
was by no means certain.
« Who tells me that he loves her ? The question is
absurd. I am sorry for your powers of divination; but
everybody knows that this match is no less a marriage of
inclination than of convenience."
" At least, everybady but me," said Ordener, gravely.
" Except you ? So be it. But what difference does
58
HANS OF ICELAND.
that make? You cannot prevent the viceroy's son from
being in love with the chancellor's daughter."
" In love ?"
" Madly in love ! "
" He must indeed be mad to be in love with her."
" Hullo! don't forget of whom and to whom you speak.
Would not one say that the son of the viceroy could not
take a fancy to a lady without consulting this clown? "
As he spoke, the officer rose. Ethel, who saw Or-
dener's face flush, hurried toward him.
" Oh ! " said she," pray be calm; do not heed these in¬
sults. What does it matter to us whether the viceroy's
son loves the chancellor's daughter or not ? "
The gentle hand laid on the young man's heart stilled
the tempest raging within. He cast an enraptured glance
at his Ethel, and did not hear the lieutenant, who, recov¬
ering his good-humor, exclaimed: " The lady acts with
infinite grace the part of the Sabine woman interceding
between her father and her husband. My words were
rather heedless; I forgot," he added, turning to Ordener,
"• that there is a bond of brotherhood between us, and that
we can no longer pwovoke each other. Chevalier, give me
your hand. Confess, you too forgot that you were speak¬
ing of the viceroy's son to his future brother-in-law. Lieu¬
tenant d'Ahlefeld."
At this name Schumacker, who had hitherto looked on
with an indifferent or merely an impatient eye, sprang
from his stone seat with a terrible cry : " D'Ahlefeld! A
D'Ahlefeld here ! Serpent! How could I fail to recog¬
nize the abominable father in his son ? Leave me in
peace in my cell! I was not condemned to the punish¬
ment of seeing you. It only needs, as he desired just
now, that the son of Guldenlew should join the son of
d'Ahlefeld ! Traitors ! cowards! why do they not come
themselves to enjoy my tears of madness and rage?
Abhorred, abhorred race! Son of d'Ahlefeld, leave me! "
The officer, at first bewildered by the sharpness of these
invectives, soon lost his temper and found his speech.
" Silence, lunatic! Cease your devilish litanies ! "
" Leave me ! leave me ! " repeated the old man; " and
take my curse, my curse upon you and the miserable race
of Guldenlew, which is to be allied to you !"
BANS OF ICELAND.
59
" By Heaven! " exclaimed the enraged officer, " yon in¬
sult me doubly!"
Ordener restrained the lieutenant, who was beside him¬
self with passion.
" Respect an old man, even if he be your enemy. Lieu¬
tenant ; we have already one question to settle together,
and I will answer to you for the prisoner's offenses."
" So he it," said the lieutenant; " you contract a double
debt. The fight will be to the death, for I have both my
brother-in-law and myself to avenge. Think that with
my gauntlet you pick up that of Ordener Guldenlew."
" Lieutenant d'Ahlefeld," replied Ordener," you espouse
the cause of the absent with a warmth which proves your
generosity. Would there not be as much in showing pity
for an unfortunate old man to whom adversity gives some
right to be unjust ? "
D'Ahlefeld was one of those sonls in whom virtue is
kindled by praise. He pressed Ordener's hand, and ap¬
proached Schumacker, who, exhausted by his emotion,
■had sunk back npon the rock, in the tearful Ethel's arms.
" Lord Schumacker," said the officer, " you abused the
privileges of your age, and I might have abused the
privileges of my youth, if you had not found a champio)i.
I enter your prison this morning for the last time, for I
come to tell you that you may henceforth remain, by
special order of the viceroy, free and unguarded in this
donjon. Receive this good news from the lips of an
enemy."
" Go!" said the old prisoner, in a hollow voice.
The lieutenant bowed and obeyed, inwardly pleased
that he had won the approving glance of Ordener.
Schumacker sat for some time with folded arms and
bent head, buried in thought. Suddenly he looked up at
Ordener, who stood before him in silence.
" Well ? " said he.
" My lord Connt, Dispolsen was murdered."
The old man's head again drooped upon his breast.
Ordener went on: "His assassin is a noted robber,—
Hans of Iceland."
" Hans of Iceland ! " said Schumacker.
" Hans of Iceland! » repeated Ethel.
" He robbed the captain," added Ordener.
60
HANS OF ICELAND.
" And so," said the old man, " you heard nothing of an
iron casket, sealed with the arms of Griffenfeld ? "
" No, my lord."
Schumacker hid his face in his hands.
"I will restore it to you, my lord Count; trust me.
The murder was committed yesterday morning. Hans
fled toward the north. I have a guide who knows all his
haunts. I have often roamed through the mountains of
Throndhjem. I shall overtake the thief."
Ethel turned pale. Schumacker rose; his expression
was almost joyful, as if he believed that virtue still
existed in men.
" Noble Ordener," he said, " farewell." And raising his
hand to heaven, he disappeared among the bushes.
As Ordener turned, he saw Ethel upon the moss-gi'own
rock, pale as an alabaster image on a black pedestal.
" Good God, Ethel!" he cried, rushing to her and sup¬
porting her in his arms, " what is the matter ? "
" Oh ! " replied the trembling girl in scarcely audible
tones. " Oh, if you have, I do not say a spark of love,
but of pity for me, sir, if you did not speak yesterday
only to deceive me, if it be not to cause my death that
you have deigned to enter this prison. Lord Ordener, my
Ordener, give up, in Heaven's name, in the name of all
the angels,—give up your mad scheme! Ordener, my
beloved Ordener! " she continued,—and her tears flowed
freely, her head rested on the young man's breast,—
" make this sacriflce for me. Do not follow this robber,
this frightful demon, with whom you would flght. In
whose interest do you go, Ordener ? Tell me, what interest
can be dearer to you than that of the wretched woman
whom but yesterday you called your beloved wife ? "
She stopped, choked by sobs. Both arms were thrown
around Ordener's neck, and her pleading eyes were fixed
upon his.
" My adored Ethel, you are needlessly alarmed. God
helps the righteous cause, and the interest in which I
expose myself is no other than your own. That iron
casket contains—"
Ethel interrupted him: " My interest! Have I any
other interest than your life ? Ordener, what will become
of me ? "
7/^.V.S OF ICELAND.
CI
" Why do you think that I shall die, Ethel ? "
" Ah! Then you do not know this Hans,—this infer¬
nal thief ? Do you know what a monster you pursue ?
Do you know that he is lord of all the powers of dark¬
ness ; that he overthrows mountains upon towns; that
subterranean caverns crumble beneath his tread; that his
breath extinguishes the beacons on every rocky coast ?
And how can you suppose, Ordener, that you can resist
this giant aided by the demon, with your white arms and
feeble sword ? "
" And your prayers, Ethel, and the thought that I am
fighting for you ? Be assured, Ethel, the bandit's strength
and power have been greatly exaggerated. He is a man
like ourselves, who deals out death until he himself be
slain."
" Then you will not heed me ? My words are nothing
to you ? Tell me, what is to become of me if you go; if
you roam from danger to danger, exposing—for I know
not what earthly interest—your life, which is mine, by
yielding it to a monster ? "
Here the lieutenant's tales recurred anew to Ethel's
fancy, exaggerated by her love and terror. She went on
in a voice broken by sobs: " I assure you, dear Ordener,
they deceived you who told you that he was only a man.
You should believe me rather than others, Ordener; you
know that I would not mislead you. Thousands have
tried to do battle with him; he has destroyed whole regi¬
ments. I only wish others would tell you the same; you
might believe them and not go."
Poor Ethel's prayers would doubtless have shaken Or-
dener's bold resolve, if he had not gone so far. The
words uttered by Schumacker in his despair on the pre¬
vious evening came back to him and strengthened him in
his purpose.
" I might, my dear Ethel, tell you that I would not go,
and yet carry out my plan ; hut I will never deceive you,
even to console you. I ought not, I repeat, to hesitate
between your tears and your true interests. Your for¬
tune, your happiness, perhaps, your life,—your very life,
my Ethel,—are at stake." And he clasped her affection¬
ately in his arms.
« And what do I«are ? " she returned, weeping. " My
63
HANS OF ICELAND.
friend, my Ordener, my delight,—for you know that yon
are my sole delight,—do not give me a fearful and certain
misery in exchange for a slight and doubtful misfortune.
What is fortune or life to me ? "
" Your father's life, Ethel, is also at stake."
She tore herself from his arms.
" My father's life ? " she repeated in a low voice, turning
pale.
" Yes, Ethel. This brigand, doubtless bribed by Count
Griffenfeld's enemies, has in his pdssession paper's whose
loss imperils the life of your father, already the object of
so many attacks. I would die to win back those papers."
Ethel was pale and dumb for some moments. Her tears
were dried, her heaving breast labored painfully; she
looked on the ground with a dull and indifferent gaze—
the gaze of the condemned man as the axe is lifted over
his head.
" My father's life! " she sighed.
Then she slowly turned her eyes toward Ordener.
" What you do is useless ; but do it. "
Ordener pressed her to his bosom. " Oh, noble girl, let
me feel your heart beat against mine! Generous friend!
I will soon return. Nay, you shall soon be mine ; I would
save your father, that I may better deserve to be his son.
My Ethel, my beloved Ethel! "
Who can describe the emotions of a true heart which
feels that it is appreciated by another noble heart ? And
if the love uniting these two similar souls be an indis¬
soluble bond, who can paint their indescj'ibable raptures ?
It seems as if they must feel, crowded into one brief in¬
stant, all the joy and all the glory of life, embellished by
the charm of generous sacrifice.
" Oh, my Ordener, go; and if you never return, grief
will kill me. I shall have that tardy consolation."
Both rose, and Ordener placed Ethel's arm within his
own, and took that adored hand in his. They silently
traversed the winding alleys of the gloomy garden, and
reluctantly reached the gate which led into the world.
There, Ethel, drawing a pair of tiny gold scissors from
her bosom, cut off a curl of her beautiful black hair.
" Take it, Ordener; let it go with you; let it be hap¬
pier than I am."
BANS OF ICELAND.
C3
Ordener devotedly pressed to his lips this gift from
his beloved.
She added: " Ordener, think of me; I will pray for you.
My prayers may be as potent with God as your arms
with the demon."
Ordener bowed before this angel. His soul was too full
for words. They remained clasped in each other's arms
for some time. As they were about to part, perhaps for¬
ever, Ordener, with a sad thrill, enjoyed the happiness of
holding Ethel to his heart once more. At last, placing a
long, pure kiss upon the sweet girl's clouded brow, he
rushed violently down the winding stairs, which a mo¬
ment later echoed with the sweet and painful word,
" Farewell! "
CHAPTER X.
You would never think her unhappy. Everything ahout her
speaks of happiness. She wears necklaces of gold, and purple
robes. When she goes out, a throng of vassals lie prostrate in her
path, and obedient pages spread carpets before her feet. But none
see her in the solitude that she loves ; for then she weeps, and her
husband does not see her tears.—I am that miserable being, the
spouse of an honorable man, of a noble count, the mother of a
child whose smiles stab me to the heart.—Maturin : Bertram.
The Countess d'Ahlefeld rose after a sleepless night
to face a restless day. Half-reclining on a sofa, she
pondered the bitter after-taste of corrnpt pleasures, and
the crime which wastes life in ecstasy without enjoyment
and grief without alleviation. She thought of Musdoe-
mon, whom guilty illusions had once painted in such
seductive colors, so frightful now that she had penetrated
his mask and seen his soul through his body. The
wretched woman wept, not because she had been de¬
ceived, but because her eyes were no longer blinded,—
tears of regret, but not of repentance; therefore her tears
afforded her no relief. At this moment her door was
opened. She dried her eyes quickly, and turned away,
annoyed at being syrprised, for she had given orders that
she was not to be disturbed. On seeing Musdoemon her
IIAys OF ICELAND.
vexation changed to friglit, which was dispelled when she
found that her son Frederic was with him.
" Mother," cried the lieutenant, " how does it happen
that you are here ? I thought you were at Bergen. Have
our fine ladies taken to running about the country ? "
The countess received Frederic with kisses, to which,
like all spoiled children, he responded very coldly. This
was possibly the worst of punishments to the unhappy
woman. Frederic was her beloved son, the only creature
in the world for whom she felt an unselfish affection; for
a degraded woman often, even when all sense of wifely
duty has vanished, retains some trace of the mother.
" I see, my son, that when you heard I was in Thrond-
hjem you hastened to me at once."
" Oh, no; not I. I was bored to death at the fort; so
I came to town, where I met Musdoemon, who brought
me here."
The poor mother sighed heavily.
" By the way, mother," continued Frederic, " I am very
glad to see you, for you can tell me whether knots of
pink ribbon on the hem of the doublet are still worn in
Copenhagen. Did you think to bring me a fiask of that
Oil of Youth to whiten the skin ? You did not forget, I
hope, the last French novel, or the pure gold lace which
I asked you to get for my scarlet cloak, or those little
combs which are so much used just now to hold the curls
in place, or—"
The poor woman had brought nothing to her son, the
only love she had on earth.
" My dear boy, I have been ill, and my sufferings pre¬
vented my thinking of your pleasures."
" Have you been ill, mother ? Well, are you better
now? By the bye, how is my pack of Norman hounds?
I'll wager that they have neglected to bathe my monkey
in rose-water every night. You'll see that I shall find
my parrot Bilboa dead on my return. When I am
away no one thinks of my pets."
" At least your mother thinks of you, my son," said
his mother in a faltering voice.
Had this been the inexorable hour when the destroying
angel hurls sinful souls into everlasting torments, he would
have felt pity for the torture which at this instant wrung
HANS OF ICELAND.
G5
the heart of the unfortunate countess. Musdoemon
laughed in his sleeve.
" Sir Frederic," said he, " I see that the steel sword has
no desire to rust in its iron scabbard. You do not care to
lose the wholesome traditions of Copenhagen drawing-
rooms within the walls of Munkholm. But yet, allow me
to ask you, what is the use of all this Oil of Y"outh, these
i)ink ribbons, and little combs? What is the use of all
tiiese preparations for a siege, if the only feminine fortress
within the walls of Munkholm is impregnable ? "
"Upon my honor, she is" laughingly responded
Frederie. " Certainly, if I have failed. General Schack him¬
self would fail. But how can you surprise a fortress where
nothing is exposed,—where every post is unremittingly
guarded? How can you contend against chemisettes
which cover all but the neck, against sleeves that hide
the whole arm, so that only the face and hands remain
to prove that the young woman is not as black as the
Emperor of Mauritania? My dear tutor, you yourself
would have to go to school again. Believe, me, that fort
is not to be taken where Modesty is garrisoned."
" Indeed !" said Musdoemon. " But may not Modesty
be forced to surrender, if Love lay siege to it, instead of
of confining himself to a blockade of delicate atten¬
tions ? "
" Labor in vain, my dear friend. Love is already
in possession of the place, but he serves to reinforce
Modesty."
" Ah, Sir Frederic, this is news indeed,—with Love on
your side—"
" And who tells you, Musdoemon, that he is on my
side ? "
" On whose, then ?" exclaimed Musdoemon and the
countess, who had listened in silence until now, but who
was reminded of Ordener by the lieutenant's last words.
Frederic was about to answer, and was already prepar¬
ing a spicy account of the scene of the previous night,
when he remembered the silence prescribed by the
etiquette of dueling, which changed his gaiety to con¬
fusion.
" I' faith," said,he, "I don't know,—that of some clown,
perhaps, some retainer."
5
G6
IlAyss OF ICELAND.
" Some soldier of the garrison ?" said Musdoemon,
laughing heartily.
" What, my son! " exclaimed the countess in her turn.
"Are you sure that she loves a rustic, a serf? What
luck, if you are sure of it! "
" Oh, of course I am sure. But it's not one of the
soldiers of the garrison," added the lieutenant, with an
offended air. " I am sure enough of what I say, however,
to beg you, mother, to cut short my very unnecessary
exile at that confounded castle."
The countess's face brightehed on hearing of the young
girl's fall. Ordener Guldenlew's eagerness to visit Munk-
holra now appeared to her in very different colors. She
gave her son the benefit of them.
"You must give us an account, Frederic, of Ethel
Schumacker's loves. I am not surprised ; the daughter
of a boor can only love a boor. Meantime, do not curse
that castle which yesterday afforded you the honor of the
first advances towards an acquaintance, from a certain
distinguished personage."
" What, mother!" said the lieutenant, staring at her,—
" what distinguished personage ? "
" A truce to jests, my son. Did no one visit you yes¬
terday ? You see that I know all about it."
" I' faith, more than I do, mother. Deuce take me if I
saw a face yesterday, except those of the masks carved
beneath the cornices of those old towers."
" What, Frederic! You saw nobody ? "
" No one, mother !"
In omitting to mention his antagonist of the donjon,
Frederic obeyed the law which bound him to silence; be¬
sides, could that clodhopper be counted as any one ?
" What! " said his mother. " Did not the viceroy's son
visit Munkholm last night?"
The lieutenant laughed.
" The viceroy's son! Indeed, mother, you must be
dreaming, or else you are joking."
"Neither, my son. Who was on guard yesterday? "
" I myself, mother."
" And you did not see Baron Ordener ? "
" Not a bit of it," repeated the lieutenant.
" But consider, my boy, he may have entered in dis-
HANS OF ICELAND.
67
guise. You never saw him, having been brought up at
Copenhagen, while he was educated at Throndhjem. Re¬
member all the stories about his caprices and whims, and
his eccentric ideas. Are you sure, my son, that you did
not see any one ? "
Frederic hesitated an instant.
" No," he cried, " no one. I can say no more."
" Then," replied the countess, " I suppose the baron did
not go to Munkholm."
Musdoemon, at first surprised like Frederic, had listened
attentively. He interrupted the countess.
" Allow me, noble lady. Master Frederic, pray tell me
the name of the dependent loved by Schumacher's
daughter."
He repeated his question; for Frederic, who for some
moments had been lost in thought, did not hear him.
" I do not know; or rather—no, I do not know."
"And how, sir, do you know that she loves a de¬
pendent ? "
"Did I say so? A dependent?—well, yes, he is a
dependent."
The awkwardness of the lieutenant's position increased
momentarily. This series of questions, the ideas to which
they gave rise, his enforced silence, threw him into
a confusion which he feared he could not much longer
control.
" Upon my word, Mr. Musdoemon, and you, my lady
mother, if a mania for asking questions be the latest
fashion, you may amuse yourselves by questioning each
other. For my part, I'll have nothing more to say to
you."
And flinging open the door, he disappeared leaving
them plunged in an abyss of doubt. He hastened down
into the courtyard, for he heard Musdoemon's voice call¬
ing him back.
He mounted his horse and rode toward the harbor,
where he intended to take a boat for Munkholm, think¬
ing that there he might find the stranger who had given
rise to such serious thoughts in the greatest feather-brain
of a feather-brained capital.
" If that was Ojdener Guldenlew," he reflected, " then
my poor Ulrica— But noj it is impossible that he
68
HANS OF ICELAND.
could be such a fool as to prefer the penniless daughter
of a prisoner of state to the wealthy daughter of an all-
powerful minister. At any rate, Schumacher's daughter
can be no more than a caprice; and there is nothing to
hinder a man who has a wife from having a mistress too;
in fact, it is quite the stylish thing. But no, it was not
Ordener. The viceroy's son would never wear such a
shabby jacket. And that old black plume without a
buckle, beaten by the wind and rain! And that great
cloak, big enough for a tent! And that disordered hair,
with no combs and no frizzes! And those boots with
iron spurs, covered with mud and dust! Indeed, it could
never be he. Baron Thorwick is a knight of the Danne-
brog. That fellow wore no decoration. If I were a
knight of the Dannebrog, I believe I should wear the
collar of the order to bed. Oh, no! He had never even
read ' Clelia.' No, it was not the viceroy's son."
CHAPTER XI.
If man could still retain his warmth of soul when experience
has taught him, if he could inherit the legacies of time without
bending beneath the weight, he would never attack those exalted
virtues whose first lesson is ever self-sacrifice.—Madame dk
Stael : Germany.
"Well, what is it? You, Poel! what brings you
here ? "
"Your Excellency forgets that you yourself summoned
me."
" Did I ?" said the general. " Oh, I wanted you to
hand me that portfolio."
Poel handed the governor the portfolio, which he
could have reached himself by stretching out his arm.
His Excellency mechanically replaced it without open¬
ing it; then he turned over some papers in an absent-
minded way.
" Poel, I was going to ask you—What time is it ? "
"Six o'clock in the morning," replied the general's
servant, who was facing the clock.
HAJVS OF ICELAND.
69
" I was going to tell you, Poel—What is the news to¬
day at the palace ? "
The general went on shuffling his papers, writing a
few words on each with a preoccupied air.
" Nothing, your Excellency, except that we are still ex¬
pecting my noble master, about whom I see the general
is anxious."
The general rose from his big writing-table, and looked
at Poel somewhat angrily.
" Your eyes are very poor, Poel. I, anxious about Or-
dener, indeed! I know the reason for his absence; I do
not expect him yet."
General Levin de Knucl was so jealous of his authority
that he would have considered it compromised had a
subaltern been able to guess his secret thoughts, and
learn that Ordener had acted without his orders.
" Poel," he added, " you may go."
The servant left the room.
" Really," exclaimed the general when he was left
alone, " Ordener uses and abuses his privileges. A blade
too often bent will break. To make me spend a
night in sleepless impatience ! To expose General Levin
to the sarcasms of a chancellor's wife and the conjectures
of a servant! And all this that an aged enemy may have
those first greetings which are due to an old friend! Or¬
dener ! Ordener! whims are destructive of liberty ! Let
him come, only let him come now, deuce take me if I
don't receive him as gunpowder does fire,—I'll blow
him up! To expose the governor of Throndhjem to a
servant's conjectures and a she-chancellor's sarcasms ! Let
him come! "
The general went on making marginal notes on his
papers without reading them, so all-absorbing was his
ill-temper.
" General! my noble father ! " cried a familiar voice;
and Ordener clasped in his arms the old man, who did
not even try to repress a cry of joy.
" Ordener, my good Ordener! Zounds! how glad I
am!" He collected his thoughts in the middle of his
phrase. "I am glad. Baron, that you have learned to
control your feelings. You seem pleased to see me
again. It was probably to mortify your flesh, that you
70
HANS OF ICELAND.
deprived yourself of that pleasure for a whole day and
night."
" Father, you have often told me that an unfortunate
enemy should be put before a fortunate friend. I come
from Munkholm."
« Of course," said the general, " when the enemy's mis¬
fortune is imminent. But Schumacker's future—"
" Looks more threatening than ever. Noble General,
there is an odious plot on foot against that unlucky man.
Men born his friends, would ruin him ; a man born his
foe, must serve him."
The general, whose face had gradually cleared, inter¬
rupted Ordener.
" Very good, my dear Ordener. But what are you
talking about? Schumacker is under my protection.
What men ? What plots ? "
Ordener could scarcely have replied plainly to this
question. He had but very vague gleams of light, very
uncertain suspicions as to the position of the man for
whom he was about to expose his life. Many will think
that he acted foolishly ; but young hearts do what they
think right by instinct, and not from calculation, and
besides, in this world, where prudence is so barren and
wisdom so caustic, who denies that generosity is folly?
All is relative on earth, where all is limited ; and virtue
would be the greatest madness if there were no God
behind man. Ordener was at the age to believe and to
be believed. He risked his life trustingly. Even the
general accepted reasons which would not have borne
calm discussion.
" What plots ? What men ? Good father, in a few days
I shall have solved the mystery; then you shall know all
that I know. I must start off again to-night."
" What!" cried the old man, " can you spare me but a
few hours ? Where are you going ? Why are you going
my dear son ? "
"You have sometimes allowed me, my noble father, to
perform a praiseworthy act in secret."
" Yes, my brave boy; but you are going without know¬
ing why, and you know what an important affair requires
your presence here."
"My father has given me a month to consider the
HANS OF ICELAND.
71
matter, and I shall devote that time to the interests of an¬
other. A good deed is often fruitful in good advice.
Besides, we will see about it on my return."
" How!" anxiously asked the general; " don't you like i
this match? They say that Ulrica d'Ahlefeld is very
beautiful. Tell me, have you seen her ? "
"I believe I have," said Ordener. "Yes, I believe that
she is handsome."
" Well?" rejoined the governor.
" Well," said Ordener, " she will never be my wife."
* These cold, decisive words startled the general as if he
had received a violent blow. He recalled the suspicions
of the haughty countess.
" Ordener," said he, shaking his head, " I ought to be
wise, for I have sinned. Well, I am nothing but an old
fool! Ordener, the prisoner has a daughter—"
" Oh," cried the young man, " General, I wanted to
speak to you of her. I ask your protection, father, for
that helpless and oppressed young girl."
" Indeed," said the governor, gravely, " your request is
urgent."
Ordener recovered himself.
" And why should it not be urgent for a poor captive
whose life, and, what is far more precious, her honor, is
in danger ?"
" Life, honor! Why, I still govern here, and I know
nothing of all these horrors ! Explain yourself."
"Noble father, the lives of the prisoner and his
defenseless daughter are threatened by an infernal
plot."
" What you say is serious. What proofs have you ? "
" The oldest son of a powerful family is even now at
Munkholm. He is there to seduce Countess Ethel; he
told me so himself."
The general started back.
" Good God! Poor, forlorn creature ! Ordener, Ordener,
Ethel and Schumacker are under my protection. Who is
this wretch ? What is the name of the family ? "
Ordener approached the general and wrung his hand.
" It is the D'Ahlefeld family."
" D'Ahlefeld! " ^id the governor. " Yes, it is all clear.
Lieutenant Frederic is at Munkholm now. My noble
72
HANS OF ICELAND.
Ordener, would they marry you to such a brood! I un¬
derstand your aversion, Ordener."
The old man, folding his arms, thought for some mo¬
ments, then clasped Ordener in his embrace.
"Ordener, you may go. Your friends shall not lack
protection; I will guard them. Yes, go; you are per¬
fectly right. That infernal Countess d'Ahlefeld is here ;
did you know it ? "
" The noble lady. Countess d'Ahlefeld," said the usher,
opening the door.
At that name, Ordener mechanically Avithdrew to the
back of the room ; and the countess, entering without
seeing him, exclaimed,—
" General, your pupil is deceiving you. He never went
toMunkholm."
" Indeed ? " said the general.
" Good gracious, no! My son Frederic, who has just
left the palace, was on duty yesterday in the donjon, and
he saw no one."
" Really, noble lady ? " repeated the general.
" So," added the countess, with a triumphant smile,
" you need not wait for your Ordener any longer. General."
The governor was cold and calm.
" I am no longer expecting him. Countess, it is true."
" General," said the countess, turning, " I thought we
were alone. Who is this ? "
The countess looked searchingly at Ordener, who
bowed.
"Really," she continued, "I never saw him but once;
still, if it were not for that dress, I should say— General,
is this the viceroy's son ? "
" Himself, noble lady," said Ordener, with another bow.
The countess smiled.
" In that case, permit a lady who will soon be more
closely allied to you, to ask where you were yesterday,
Comit ? "
" Count! I do not think tliat I am so unfortunate as
to have lost my noble father yet, my lady countess."
" Certainly not; that was not my meaning. It is bet¬
ter to become a count by taking a Avife than by losing a
father."
" One is no better than the other, noble lady."
HANS OF ICELAND.
73
The countess, although slightly confused, made up her
mind to laugh heartily.
" Come, the stories that I have heard are true. Your
manners are somewhat boorish; but you will grow more
used to accepting gifts from fair hands when Ulrica
d'Ahlefeld has put the chain of the Order of the Elephant
about your neck."
" A chain indeed!" said Ordener.
"You will see. General Levin," resumed the countess,
whose laugh was somewhat forced, " that your intractable
pupil will not consent to receive his colonel's brevet from
a lady's hand either."
" You are right. Countess," replied Ordener; "a man
who wears a sword ought not to owe his epaulettes to a
petticoat."
The great lady's face dai-kened.
" Ho! ho! whence comes the baron ? Is it really true
that your Highness was not at Munkholm yesterday ? "
" Noble lady, I do not always satisfy all questions. But,
General, you and I ■will meet again."
Then, pressing the old man's hand and bowing to the
countess, he quitted the room, leaving the lady, amazed at
the extent of her own ignorance, alone with the governor,
who was furious at the amount of his knowledge.
CHAPTER XII.
The fellow that sits next to him now, parts bread with him,
and pledges the breath of him in a divided draught, is the read¬
iest man to kill him.—Shakespeaee : Timon of Athens.
If the reader will transport himself to the highway
leading from Throndhjem to Skongen, a narrow, stony
road which skirts Throndhjem Fjord until it reaches the
village of Vygla, he will not fail to hear the footsteps of
two travelers, who left the city by what is known as
Skongen Gate, at nightfall, and are rapidly climbing the
range of hills up which the path to Vygla winds. Both
are -wrapped in cloaks. One walks with a firm, youthful
step, his body erect and his head well up; the point of
his sword hangs below the hem of his cloak, and in spite
of the darkness, we see the plume in his cap waving in
74
BANS OF ICELAND.
the breeze. The other is rather taller than his companion,
but slightly bent; upon his back is a hump, doubtless
formed by a wallet which is hidden by his large black
mantle, whose ragged edgeg bear witness - to its long and
faithful service. His only weapon is a stick, with which
he supports his rapid and uneven steps.
If darkness prevent our reader from distinguishing the
features of the two traveler.s, he may perhaps recognize
them by the conversation which one of them opens after
an hour of silent, consequently tedious travel.
" Master, my young master! we have reached-the point
from which Vygla tower and Throndhjem spires may both
be seen at the same time. Before us, on the horizon, that
black mass is the tower; behind us lies the cathedral; its
flying buttresses, darker still against the sky, stand out
like the skeleton ribs of a mammoth."
"Is Vygla far from Skongen?" asked the other way¬
farer.
" We have to cross the Ordals, sir; we shall not reach
Skongen before three o'clock in the morning."
" What hour is that striking now ? "
"Good heavens, master! you make me shiver. Yes,
that is Throndhjem clock ; the wind brings the sound to
us. That's a sign of storm. The northwest wind brings
clouds."
" In truth, the stars have all disappeared behind us."
" Pray let us make haste, my noble lord, the storm is
close at hand, and Gill's coiqise and my escape may al¬
ready have been discovered in the city. Let us make
haste!"
" Willingly. Old man, your load seems heavy; give it
to me, I am younger and stronger than you."
" No, indeed, noble master; it is not for the eagle to
carry the shell of the tortoise. I am too far beneath you
for you to burden yourself with my wallet."
" But, old man, if it tires you ? It seems heavy. What
have you in it? Just now you stumbled, and it clinked
as if there were iron in it."
The old man sprang away from the young man.
"It clinked, master ? Oh, no! you are mistaken. It
contains nothing—but food, clothes. No, it does not tire
me, sir,"
HANS OF ICELAND.
75
The young man's friendly offer seemed to give his old
comrade a fright which he tried to disguise.
" Well," replied the young man, without noticing it,
" if your bundle does not tire you, keep it."
The old man, although his fears were set at rest, made
haste to change the conversation.
" It is hard to travel by night as fugitives, over a road
which it would be so agreeable, sir, to take by day as ob¬
servers of Nature. On the shores of the fjord, to our
left, are a quantity of Runic stones, upon which may be
studied inscriptions traced, they say, by gods and giants.
On our right, behind the rocks at the edge of the road,
lies the salt-marsh of Sciold, which undoubtedly commu¬
nicates with the sea by some subterranean passage; for
the sea lobworm is caught there, that strange fish, which,
as your servant and guide discovered, eats sand. It was
in the Vygla tower, which we are now approaching, that
the pagan king Vermond roasted the breasts of Saint
Etheldreda, that glorious martyr, with wood from the
true cross, brought to Copenhagen by Olaf III., and con¬
quered from him by the Norwegian king. They say that
since then repeated attempts have been made to turn that
cursed tower into a chapel; every cross placed there is
consumed in its turn by fire from heaven."
At this instant a tremendous flash of lightning covered
the fjord, the hill, the rocks, the tower, and faded before
the two travelers could distinguish any of these objects.
They instinctively paused, and the lightning was almost
immediately followed by a violent peal of thunder, which
echoed from cloud to cloud across the sky, and from rock
to rock along the earth.
They raised their eyes. All the stars were hidden,
huge clouds rolled rapidly over one another, and the tem¬
pest hung like an a"s'alanche above their heads. The tre¬
mendous blast, before which all these masses fled, had
not yet descended to the trees, which no breath stirred,
and upon which no drop of rain had as yet fallen. The
roar of the storm was heard aloft, and this, with the noise
of the fjord, was the only sound to be heard in the dark¬
ness of the night, made doubly dark by the blackness of
the tempest. «
This tumultuous silence was suddenly interrupted
%
HANS OF ICELAND.
close beside the travelers, by a growl which made the
old man tremble.
" Omnipotent God ! " he cried, grasping the young
man's arm, " that is either the laugh of the Devil in the
storm, or the voice of—"
A fresh flash, a fresh peal, cut short his words. The
tempest then burst with fury, as if it had only waited
this signal. The travelers drew their cloaks closer, to
protect themselves alike from the rain falling in torrents
from the clouds, and from the thick dust swept in whirl¬
winds from the dry earth by a howling blast.
" Old man," said the youth, " a flash of lightning just
now showed me Vygla tower on our right; let us leave
the path and seek shelter there."
" Shelter in the Cursed Tower !" exclaimed the old
man ; " may Saint Hospitius protect us ! Think, young
master; that tower is deserted."
« So much the better, old man ! "We shall not be kept
waiting at the door."
" Think of the abominable act which polluted it!"
« Well, let it purify itself by sheltering us. Come, old
man, follow me. I tell you that on such a night I would
test the hospitality of a den of thieves."
Then, in spite of the old man's remonstrances, he
grasped his arm and hastened toward the building, which,
as the frequent flashes showed him, was close at hand.
At they approached, they saw a light in one of the loop¬
holes of the tower.
" You see," said the young man, " that this tower is not
deserted, "^ou feel easier now, no doubt ? "
" Oh, my God ! my God ! " cried the old man, " where
are you taking me, master ? Saint Hospitius forbid that
I should enter that oratory of the Devil !"
They had now reached the foot of the tower. The
young traveler knocked loudly at the new door of this
much dreaded ruin.
" Calm yourself, old .man. Some pious hermit has
come hither to sanctify this profane abode by dwelling in
it."
" No," said his comrade, " I will not enter. I'll answer
for it that no monk can live here, unless he has one of
Beelzebub's seven chains for a chaplet."
HANS OF ICELAND.
77
However, a light had descended from oije narrow win¬
dow to ajiother, and now shone through the keyhole.
" You are very late, Nychol !" cried a sharp voice ;
" the gallows was erected at noon, and it takes but six
hours to come from Skongen to Vygla. Did you have an
extra job ? "
These questions were asked just as the door was opened.
The woman who opened it, seeing two strange faces in¬
stead of the one which she expected, uttered a frightened,
threatening shriek, and started back.
Her appearance was by no means reassuring. She was
tall ; she held above her head an iron lamp, which threw
a bright light upon her face. Her livid features, her
bony, angular figure, were corpse-like, and her hollow eyes
emitted ominous flashes like those of a funeral torch. She
wore a red serge petticoat, reaching to her bare feet, and
apparently stained in spots with deeper red. Her fieshless
breast was half covered by a man's jacket of the same
color, the sleeves of which were cut off at the elbow. The
wind, coming in at the open door, blew about her head
her long gray hair, which was insecurely fastened with a
strip of bark, and lent an added ferocity to her savage
face.
" Good lady," said the younger of the newcomers, " the
rain falls in floods ; you have a roof, and we have gold."
His aged comrade plucked him by the cloak, whispering,
" Oh, master, what are you saying? If this be not the
abode of the Devil, it is the habitation of some robber.
Our money, instead of protecting us, will be our ruin."
" Hush ! " said the young man ; and drawing a purse
from his bosom, he displayed it to his hostess, repeating
his request as he did so.
The woman, recovering from her surprise, studied them
in turn with fixed and haggard eyes.
" Strangers," she cried at last, as if she had not heard
their voices, " have your guardian angels forsaken you ?
What would you with the cursed inhabitants of the Cursed
Tower ? Strangers, they were no mortals who sent you
here for shelter, or they would have told you : Better
are the lightning and the storm than the hearth within
Vygla tower. The only living man who may enter here,
enters the abode ot no other human being ; he only leaves
78
HANS OF ICELAND.
solitude for a crowd ; he lives only by death ; he has no
place save in the curses of men ; he serves their venge¬
ance only ; he exists by their crimes alone ; and the
vilest criminal, in the hour of his doom, vents on him the
universal scorn, and feels that he has a right to add to it
his own contempt. Strangers ! You must indeed be
strangers, for your foot does not yet shrink with horror
from the threshold of this tower. Disturb no longer the
she-wolf and her cubs ; return to the road traveled by
the rest of mankind, and if you would not be shimned by
your fellows, do not tell them that your face ever caught
the rays of the lamp of the dwellers in Vygla tower."
With these words, pointing to the door, she advanced to¬
ward the two travelers. The old man trembled in every
limb, and looked imploringly at the young man, who,
understanding nothing of the tall woman's words because
of the great rapidity of her speech, thought her crazy,
and was in no wise disposed to go out again into the rain,
which still fell heavily.
"Faith, good hostess, you describe a strange char¬
acter, whose acquaintance I would not lose this chance of
making."
" His acquaintance, young man, is soon made, sooner
ended. If your evil spirit urge you to seek it, go kill
some living man, or profane the dead."
" Profane the dead!" repeated the old man, in a falter¬
ing voice, hiding himself in his companion's shadow.
" I scarcely comprehend," the latter said, " your sugges¬
tions, which seem somewhat indirect; it is shorter to stay
here. No one but a madman would continue his journey
in such weather."
" Unhappy man! " exclaimed the woman, " do not knock
at the door of one who can open no door save that of the
tomb."
" And if the door of the tomb .should indeed open for
me with that of your abode, woman, it shall not be said
that I shrank from an ill-omened word. My sword is my
safeguard. Come, close the door, for the wind is cold,
and take this money."
"Bah! what is your money to me!" rejoined their
hostess; " precious in your hands, in mine it would become
more vile than pewter. Well, stay if you will, and give
HANS OF ICELAND.
70
me the gold. It may protect you from the storms of
Heaven ; it cannot save me from the scorn of men. Nay;
you pay a higher price for hospitality than others pay for
murder. Wait here an instant, and give me your gold.
Yes, it is the first time that a man's hands have entered
here filled with gold, without being stained with blood."
So saying, after putting down her lamp and barricading
the door, she disappeared beneath the arch of a dark stair¬
case built at the back of the room.
While the old man shuddered, and, invoking the glorious
Saint Hospitius under every name, cordially, but in an
undertone, cursed his young companion's imprudence, the
latter took the light and surveyed the large circular apart¬
ment in which they had been left. What he saw as he
approached the wall, startled him ; and the old man, who
had watched him closely, exclaimed,—
" Good God, master! a gallows ? "
A tall gallows, in fact, rested against the wall, reaching
to the keystone of the damp, high, arched roof.
" Yes," said the young man, " and here are saws of wood
and iron, chains and iron collars; here is a rack, and huge
pincers hanging over it."
" Holy saints of Paradise! " cried the old man; " where
are we?"
The young man calmly went on with his inspection.
" This is a roll of hempen cord ; here are furnaces and
caldrons; this part of the wall is covered with tongs and
scalpels; here are leathern whips with steel tips, an ax
and a mace." -
" This must be the wardrobe of hell! " interrupted the
old man, terrified by this dreadful catalogue.
" Here," continued the other, " are copper screws, wheels
with teeth of bronze, a box of huge nails, and a lever. In
truth, these are sorry furnishings. It may seem to you
hard that my impatience should have brought you hither
with me."
" Really, you agree to that! "
The old man was more dead than alive.
" Do not be frightened. What matters it where you
are ? I am with you."
" A fine protectipn ! " muttered the old man, whose in¬
creasing terror modified his fear and respect for his young
80
HANSt OF ICELAND.
companion ; " a sword three feet long against a gibbet nine
feet high!"
The big, red woman returned, and again taking up the
iron lamp, beckoned to the travelers to follow her. They
cautiously climbed a narrow, rickety flight of stairs built
in the thickness of the tower wall. At each loop-hole a
blast of wind and rain threatened to extinguish the quiv¬
ering flame of the lamp, which their hostess shielded with
her long, transparent hands. After stumbling more than
once upon a rolling stone, in which the old man's alarmed
fancy saw human bones scattered over the stairs, they
reached the next floor, and found themselves in a circular
hall like the one below. In the center, according to
Gothic custom, burned a huge flre, the smoke of which
escaped through a hole in the roof, but not without per¬
ceptibly obscuring the atmosphere of the hall. It was the
light from this flre, combined with that of the iron lamp,
which had caught the notice of the two wayfarers. A
spit, loaded with fresh-killed meat, revolved before the
flames. The old man turned from it in disgust.
" It was upon that execrable hearth," said he to his
comrade, " that the embers of the true cross consumed the
limbs of a saint." A rude table stood some distance away
from the flre. The woman invited the travelers to be
seated at it.
" Strangers," said she, placing the lamp before them,
" supper will soon be ready, and my husband will prob¬
ably make haste to get here, for fear the midnight ghost
should carry him off as it passes the Cursed Tower."
Ordener—for the reader has doubtless already guessed
that he and his guide, Benignus Spiagudry, were the hwo
travelers—could now examine at his leisure the strange
disguise, in the concoction of which Benignus had ex¬
hausted all the resources of his fertile fancy, spurred on by
a dread of recognition and capture. The poor fugitive
had exchanged his reindeer-skin garments for a full suit
of black, left at the Spladgest by a famous Throndhjein
grammarian, who drowned himself in despair because he
could not flnd out why « Jupiter " changed to " Jovis " in
the genitive. His wooden shoes gave place to a stout
pair of postilion boots, whose owner had been killed by
his horses, in which his slender shanks had so much spare
>
HANS OF ICELAND.
81
room that he could not have walked without the aid of
half a truss of hay. The huge wig of an elegant young
Frenchman, slain by thieves just outside the city gates,
concealed his bald pate and floated over his sharp, crooked
shoulders. One of his eyes was covered with a plaster,
and, thanks to a pot of paint which he had found in the
pocket of an old maid who died of disappointed love, his
pale, hollow cheeks were tinged with an unwonted crim¬
son, an ornament which the rain had now divided with
his chin. Before seating himself, he carefully placed
beneath him the pack which he carried on his back, flrst
wrapping it in his old mantle, and while he absorbed his
comrade's entire attention, all his thoughts seemed cen¬
tered in the roast which his hostess was watching, toward
which he cast ever and anon a glance of anxiety and
alarm. Broken ejaculations fell from his lips at intervals :
" Human flesh! Horridas epulas! Cannibals! A
feast for Moloch ! Ne pueros coram populo Medea truci-
det! Where are we?—Atreus—Druidess—Irmensul—
The Devil struck Lycaon with lightning—" Finally he
exclaimed: " Good Heavens! God be thanked ! I see
a tail!"
Ordener, who, having watched and listened attentively,
had closely followed the train of his thoughts, could not
help smiling.
" That tail need not comfort you. It may be the Devil's
hind quarter."
Spiagudry did not hear this pleasantry. His eyes were
riveted on the back of the room. He trembled, and
whispered in Ordener's ear,—
" Master, look yonder, on that heap of straw, in the
shadow!"
« Well, what is it? " said Ordener.
« Three naked bodies,—the corpses of three children!"
« Some one is knocking at the door," cried the red
woman, who was squatting by the fire.
In fact, a knock, followed by two louder raps, was heard
above the ever-increasing din of the storm.
" It is he at last! It is Nychol! "
And seizing the lamp, their hostess hurried downstairs.
The two travelers had not had time to resume their
conversation, when they heard a confused murmur of
6 ji-*.
-t
89
HANS OF ICELAND.
voices below, in the midst of which they caught these
words, uttered in a voice which made Spiagudry start
and shiver:
" Be quiet, woman; we shall stay. The thunderbolt
enters without waiting for the door to be opened."
Spiagudry pressed closer to Ordener.
" Master, master," he quavered, " we are lost! "
The sound of footsteps was heard on the stairs, and two
men in ecclesiastic dress entered the room, followed by
the startled hostess.
One of these men was tall, and wore the black gown
and close-clipped hair of a Lutheran minister; the other
was shorter, and wore a hermit's robe tied with a girdle
of rope. The hood drawn over his face concealed all but
his long black beard, and his hands were entirely hidden
by his flowing sleeves.
When he saw these two peaceful strangers, Spiagudry
recovered from the terror which the peculiar voice of one
of them had caused.
"Don't be alarmed, my good lady," said the minister.
" Christian ministers do good even to those who injure
them; why should they harm those who help them?
We humbly beg for shelter. If the reverend gentleman
with me spoke harshly to you just now, he was wrong to
forget the gentle voice recommended to us in our ordina¬
tion vows. Alas! the most saintly may err. I lost my
way on the road from Skongen to Throndhjem, and could
find no guide through the darkness, no shelter from the
storm. This reverend brother, whom I encountered, being
like myself far from home, deigned to allow me to accom¬
pany him hither. He praised your kind hospitality, dear
lady; doubtless he was not mistaken. Do not say to us,
like the wicked shepherd, ' Advene., cur intras ?' Take
us, in, worthy hostess, and God will save your crops from
the storm, God will protect your flocks from the tem¬
pest, as you give a refuge to travelers who have gone
astray!"
" Old man," broke in the woman in a fierce voice, " I
have neither crops nor flocks."
" Well, if you are poor, God blesses the poor more than
the rich. You and your husband shall live to a good old
age, respected, not for your wealth, but for your virtues;
HANS OF ICELAND.
83
your children shall grow up blessed in the esteem of all
men, and be what their father was before them."
" Silence!" cried the hostess. " If they continue to be
what we are, our children must grow old as we have,
scorned by all,—a scorn handed down from generation
to generation. Silence, old man! Your blessing turns
to curses on our heads."
" Heavens ! " returned the minister," who then are you ?
Amid what crimes do you pass your life ? "
" What do you call crime ? What do you call virtue ?
We enjoy one privilege,—we can possess no virtue and
commit no crime."
" The woman's reason wanders," said the minister, turn¬
ing to the little hermit who was drying his coarse robe
before the fire.
" No, priest! " replied the woman. " Learn where you
are. I would rather inspire horror than pity. I am not
mad, but the wife of—"
A prolonged and violent knocking at the door drowned
her words, to the great disappointment of Spiagudry and
Ordener, who had silently listened to the dialogue.
" Cursed," muttered the red woman, " be the mayor
and council of Skongen, who gave us this tower so near
the high-road for our dwelling! Perhaps that is not
Nychol, now."
Still, she took up the lamp.
" After all, if it be another traveler, what matters it ?
The brook can fiow where the torrent has passed."
The four travelers, left alone, examined each other by
the firelight. Spiagudry, terrified at first by the hermit's
voice, and then reassured by his black beard, might have
trembled afresh if he had seen the piercing eye -with
which the monk observed him from beneath his cowl.
In the general silence the minister ventured a question :
" Brother monk, I presume that you are one of the
Catholic priests who escaped from the last persecution,
and that you were returning to your retreat when I was
fortunate enough to meet you. Can you tell me where
we are ? "
The broken door of the ruined staircase opened before
the hermit coul(i answer.
" Woman, let a storm but burst, and there is always a
8i
HANS OF ICELAND.
crowd to sit at our hated board and take shelter beneath
our accursed roof."
" Nychol," replied the wife, " I could not help it! "
" What do I care how many guests you have, provided
they pay ? Money is as well earned by lodging a traveler
as by strangling a thief."
The speaker paused at the door, and the four strangers
had ample opportunity to examine him. He was a man
of colossal size, di'essed, like their hostess, in red serge.
Ilis enormous head seemed to rest directly upon his broad
shoulders, in strong contrast with his gracious lady's long,
bony neck. He had a low forehead, fiat nose, and thick eye¬
brows ; his eyes, rimmed Avith red, shone like burning
coals in a pool of blood. The lower part of his face was
shaved smooth, exposing his big mouth, whose black lips
were parted in a hideous grin, like the gaping edges of a
never-healing wound. Two wisps of frizzled beard, ex¬
tending from his cheeks to his chin, made his face seem
square when seen from the front. He wore a gray felt
hat, which dripped with rain, and which he did not deign
to remove in the presence of the four travelers.
As he looked at him, Benignus Spiagudry uttered a cry
of fright, and the Lutheran minister turned away, struck
with horror and surprise; while the master of the house,
recognizing, addressed him thus: " What, are you
here, minister! Indeed, I did not expect to have the
pleasure of seeing your scared and wobegone face again
to-day."
The priest mastered his first feeling of repulsion. His
face became serious and serene.
" And I, my son, rejoice at the chance which has brought
together the shepherd and the lost sheep, to the end, no
doubt, that the sheep may return to the fold."
" Ah, by Haman's gibbet," rejoined the other with a
loud laugh, " this is the first time that ever I was com¬
pared to a sheep! Believe me. Father, if you would
flatter the vulture, you must not call him a dove."
" He who can change the vulture to a dove, consoles,
my son, and does not flatter. You think that I fear you,
and I only pity you! "
"You must indeed have a goodly store of pity. I
should have fancied that you had exhausted it all on that
UANS OF ICELAND.
85
poor devil to whom you displayed your cross this morn¬
ing in the hope of hiding my gallows from his eyes."
" That unfortunate man," replied the priest, " was less
to be pitied than you; for he wept, and you laugh.
Happy is he who learns in the moment of atonement
how much less powerful is man's arm than the word
of God!"
"Well said. Father!" replied the host, with a horrid
and ironical mirth. " Happy is he who weeps! That
fellow to-day, moreover, had no other fault than that of
loving the king so much that he could not live without
making his Majesty's picture upon little copper medals,
which he then gilded artistically to render them more ^
worthy of the royal effigy. Our gracious sovereign was
not ungrateful, and rewarded him for such a display of
affection with a fine hempen decoration, which, let me
inform my worthy guests, was conferred upon him this
very day, in Skongen market-place, by me, lord chancellor
of the Order of the Gibbet, assisted by this gentleman here
present, grand chaplain of the said order."
" Stop, wretched man!" broke in the priest. " How
can he who punishes forget that punishment awaits us
all ? Listen to the thunder—"
" Well, what is thunder? Satan's laughter."
" Good God, he has just looked on death, and he blas¬
phemes !"
" A truce to your sermons, old fool!" cried the host, in
a loud, angry tone, " unless you would curse the angel of
darkness who has brought us together twice in one day, in
the same carriage and under the same roof. Imitate your
friend the hermit, who is silent, for he longs to be back
again in his cave at Lynrass. I thank you, brother monk,
for the blessing which I see you bestow upon the Cursed
Tower every morning as you cross the hill; but the fact
is that you always seemed tall to me until now, and that
black beard of yours looked white. Are you sure that
you are the hermit of Lynrass,—the only hermit in the
province of Throndhjem ? "
" I am the only one," said the hermit in a hollow voice.
" We are, then," rejoined his host, "the two recluses of
the district—IIoUp, Becky, make haste with that roast
lamb, for I am hungry. I was detained at Burloek village
86
llAyS OF ICELAND.
by that confounded Dr. Manryll, who would only give
nie twelve escalins for the corpse. That miserable fellow
who keeps the Throndhjeni Spladgest gets forty. Pla
Master Periwig, what's the matter with you ? Are you
going to tumble over ? By the way, Becky, have you
finished the skeleton of that famous magician, Orgivius
the poisoner? It is high time it was delivered to the
Bergen Museum. Did you send one of your little pigs
to tlie mayor of Loevig to get what he owes me,—foui
double crowns for boiling a witch and two alchemists, and
for removing several chains from the cross-beams of his
tribunal, which they disfigured ; twenty escalins for hang¬
ing Ishmael Typhaine, a Jew against whom the good bishop
entered a complaint; and a crown for putting a new
wooden arm to the stone gallows of the tower."
" Your wages," replied his wife in sour tones, " remain
in the mayor's hands because your son forgot to take a
wooden spoon to receive the money, and none of the
judge's servants were willing to put it into his hand."
The husband frowned.
" Only let their necks fall into my hands, and they shall
see whether I need a wooden spoon to touch them. But
we must manage the' mayor carefully, for it is to him that
robber Ivar complained that he was put to the rack by
me, and not by a regular executioner, alleging that, as he
had not yet been tried, he was not upon my level. By
the way, wife, do keep the children from playing with my
nippers and pincers; they have spoiled all my tools, so
that I really could not use them to-day. Where are they,
the little monsters ? " added the man, going up to the heap
of straw where Spiagudry had fancied that he saw three
dead bodies. " Here they are in bed; they sleep through
all our noise as soundly as if they had been hanged."
From these words, whose grim horror was in strong
contrast with the speaker's mirth and fierce, frightful
composure, the reader will have guessed who was the in¬
habitant of the Vygla tower. Spiagudry, who upon his
first appearance recognized him from having often seen
him act in his official capacity in the Throndhjem market¬
place, felt ready to faint, particularly when he considered
his own powerful personal motive for dreading this awful
personage. He leaned over to Ordener, and said in
HANS OF ICELAND.
sr
scarcely articulate tones, " It is Nychol Orugix, the hang¬
man of the province of Throndhjem! "
Ordener, at first struck with horror, shuddered, and
regretted both his journey and the storm. But soon a
peculiar feeling of curiosity took possession of him, and
although he pitied his old guide's distress and terror, he
devoted his entire attention to observing the speech and
manners of the singular being before him,—just as a man
might listen eagerly to the growl of a hyena or the roar
of a tiger, brought from the desert to one of our greet
cities. Poor Benignus was far from being sufficiently
easy in his mind to make psychological observations.
Hidden behind Ordener, he drew his mantle closely about
him, raised a restless hand to his plaster, pulled the back
of his loose periwig over his face, and sighed heavily.
Meantime the hostess had dished up the joint of roast
lamb, with its reassuring tail, on a large earthen platter.
The hangman seated himself opposite Ordener and Spia-
gudry, between the two clergymen; and his wife, after
putting upon the table a jug of sweetened beer, a piece
of rindebrod,* and five wooden plates, sat down by the
fire and busied herself in sharpening her husband's dull
tools.
"There, reverend sir," said Orugix, laughing; "the
sheep offers you a piece of lamb. And you. Sir Periwig,
was it the wind that blew your hair over your face ? "
"The wind, sir,—the storm—" stammered the trem¬
bling Spiagudry.
" Come, pluck up a spirit, old boy ! You see that these
reverend gentlemen and I are good fellows. Tell us who
you are, and who your silent young friend is, and talk a
bit. If your conversation is as amusing as your person,
it must be funny indeed."
" Your worship jests," said the keeper, pursing his lips,
showing his teeth and winking, to make himself look
meriy. " I am but a poor old man."
"Yes," interrupted the jovial hangman, "some old
scientist some old sorcerer."
" Oh, my lord and master, a scientist but no sorcerer!"
" So much the worse ; a sorcerer would complete our
joyful Sanhedrim. ,Gentlemen and guests, let us drink to
* Bark bread, eaten by the poorer classes in Norway.
88
IIANS OF ICELAND.
restore this old sage's speech, so that he may enliven us al
supper; the health of the man we hanged to-day, brothei
preacher! Well, father monk, do you refuse my beer?''
The hermit had, indeed, drawn from under his gown a
large gourd of clear water, from which he filled his glass
" Zounds, hermit of Lynrass !" cried the hangman, " ij
you will not taste my beer, I will taste the water which
you prefer to it."
" So be it," answered the hermit.
" First take off your glove, worthy brother," answered
the hangman. "Water should always be poured with
the bare hand."
The hermit shook his head, saying, " It is a vow."
"Well, then, pour," said the hangman.
Hardly had Orugix raised the glass to his lips when he
set it down hastily, while the hermit drained his at a
draught.
" By the Holy Grail! good hermit, what is that infernal
stuff ? I have not drank its like since the day that 1
came near drowning in my voyage from Copenhagen tc
Throndhjem. Truly, hermit, that is no water from
Lynrass spring; it is salt water."
" Salt water," repeated Spiagudry, his terror increasing
as he looked at the hermit's glove.
"Well, well! " said the hangman, turning toward him
with a loud laugh ; " so everything alarms you, old Ab¬
salom,—even to the drink of a holy monk who chooses
to mortify his fiesh ! "
"Alas no, master! But salt water— There is bul
one man—"
"Come, come, you don't know what you are talking
about, sir doctor; your distress must be caused by youi
bad conscience, or else you despise our company."
These words, uttered in a humorous tone, reminded
Spiagudry that he must needs hide his fears. To mollifj
his much-dreaded host, he called his vast memory to his
aid, and summoned up all the presence of mind which was
left to him.
"I despise you,—you, my lord and master! You
whose presence in a province gives that province the me
rum imperium!* You, mighty hangman, the execu
* Blood privilege, the right to have a hangman.
HANS OF ICELAND.
89
tioner of secular vengeance, the sword of justice, the
shield of innocence ! You, whom Aristotle in the sixth
book and last chapter of his ' Politics' ranks with mag¬
istrates, and whose salary Paris de Puteo, in his treatise
' De Syndico,' fixes at five gold crowns, as this passage
proves: Quinque aureos manivoUo! You, sir, whose
Cronstadt colleagues were ennobled when they had cut
off three hundred heads,—you, whose terrible but most
honorable functions are performed with pride in Fran-
conia by the most recent bridegroom, in Reutlingen by
the youngest of the city councillors, in Stedien by the
last-made citizen! And do I not also know, good master,
that your colleagues in France have the right of havadium
upon every leper, upon pigs, and upon cake on Epiphany
eve? How could I fail to feel the deepest respect for
you when the abbot of Saint Germain des Pres gives you
a boar's head every year, on Saint Vincent's Day, and puts
you at the head of his procession!"
Here the keeper's erudite fiow of fancy was abruptly
cut short by the hangman.
" Upon my word, this is the first that I have heard of it.
The learned abbot of whom you speak, my worthy
friend, has hitherto defrauded me of all these fine
privileges which you describe in such attractive fashion.
—Strangers," continued Orugix, " aside from all this old
fool's extravagant nonsense, it is quite true that I have
missed my career. I am only the poor hangman of a
poor province. Well, I certainly ought to have done
better than Stillison Dickoy, the famous hangman of
Moscow. Would you believe that I am the same man
who was chosen twenty-four years ago to behead Schu¬
macher ? "
"Schumacher, Count of Griffenfeld!" exclaimed
Ordener.
"Does that surprise you. Sir Silent? Yes, that self¬
same Schumacher, who, strange to say, would again fall
into my hands should it please the king to recall his re¬
prieve. Let us empty this jug, gentlemen, and I will tell
you how it happens that after so brilliant a beginning I
end my career so miserably.
" In 1676, I wag assistant to Rhum Stuald, the royal
hangman at Copenhagen, At the time of Count Grifien-
90
HANS OF ICELAND.
feld's sentence, my master falling ill, I was, thanks to my
powerful patrons, selected to act in his place. On June
5,—I shall never forget that day,—at five o'clock in the
morning, assisted by the carpenter, I erected in the public
square a huge gallows, which we hung with black, out of
respect for the prisoner. At eight, the king's guards sur¬
rounded the scaffold, and the Schleswig Uhlans kept back
the crowd that thronged the square. Who would not
have been dazzled in my place? Erect, and sword in
hand, I stood waiting on the platform. All eyes were
upon me ; at that moment I was the most important per¬
sonage in the two kingdoms. My fortune, thought I, is
made J for what could all these great lords, who have
sworn the chancellor's ruin, do without me ? I already
regarded myself as the royal hangman of the town, by
letters-patent; I had servants and privileges of every
sort. Just listen ! The clock on the fortress struck ten.
The prisoner left his cell, crossed the square, and ascended
the scaffold with a firm step and calm face. I wanted to
tie his hair; he refused, and himself performed this last
office. ' It's a long time,' he said smilingly to the prior
of St. Andrew's,' since I dressed my own hair.' I offered
him the black bandage; he declined it scornfully, but
without showing any contempt for me. ' My friend,' said
he, ' this is jserhaps the first time on record, that the
space of a few feet ever held the two officers representing
the extremes of the law,—the chancellor and the execu¬
tioner !' Those Avords have remained graven on my
memory. He also refused the black cushion which I
would have given him for liis knees, embraced the priest,
and knelt, after declaring his innocence in a loud voice.
Then I broke his escutcheon with a single blow of my
mace, crying aloud, as is the custom, ' This is not done
without just cause !' This affront shook the count's firm
bearing; he turned pale, but soon mastered himself and
said, ' 'The king gave me my arms; the king can take
them from me!' He placed his head on the block, turned
his eyes toward the east, and I raised my sword in both
hands. Now listen ! At that instant a shout fell upon
my ears,—' Pardon, in the king's name ! Pardon for
Schumacker!' I turned; I saw a royal aide-de-camp
galloping toward the gallows waving a parchment. The
HANS OF ICELAND.
91
count rose, with a look not of pleasure, hut of satisfaction.
The parchment was handed to him. ' Good God!' cried
he, ' imprisonment for life ! Their mercy is more cruel
than death.' He stepped, looking like a thief, from the
scaffold which he had mounted so serenely. It was noth¬
ing to me. I had no idea that this man's salvation meant
my ruin. After removing the scaffold, I returned to my
master still full of hope, although slightly disappointed
at losing the golden crown, my fee for removing a head.
That was not all. Next day I received an order to leave
the city, and an appointment as executioner for the prov¬
ince of Throndhjem. A provincial hangman, and that
in the most miserable province of Norway! Now you
shall see, gentlemen, how small causes sometimes bring
about great results. The count's enemies, by way of dis¬
playing their generosity, had done all in their power to
keep back the pardon until the execution was over. It
lacked but one minute ; they blamed me for being so slow,
as if it would have been decent to prevent an illustrious
man from amusing himself for a few moments, before he
breathed his last! As if a royal executioner beheading a
high lord chancellor could act with no more dignity and
sense of proportion than a country hangman turning off a
Jew! Ill-will was added to this. I had a brother; indeed,
I think I have one still. He had changed his name, and
succeeded in finding employment in the house of the new
chancellor. Count d'Ahlefeld. My presence in Copen¬
hagen disturbed the scoundrel. My brother despised
me, because it might some time fall to my lot to hang
him."
Here the fluent narrator stopped to give vent to his
mirth ; then he went on:—
" You see, my dear guests, that I made the best of it.
The deuce take ambition ! I ply my calling honestly. I
sell my dead bodies, or Becky turns them into skeletons,
which the Bergen anatomical museum buys. I laugh at
everything, even at that poor woman who was a gypsy,
and whom solitude has driven mad. IMy three heirs are
growing up in the fear of the Devil and the gallows. My
name is the terror of all the children in Throndhjem.
The city council Ornish me with a cart and red clothes.
The Cursed Tower protects me from rain as well as the
92
HANS OF ICELAND.
bishop's palace could do. Old priests, driven hither by a
storm, preach to me; learned men fawn upon me. In
fine, I am as happy as most people; I drink, eat, hang,
and sleep."
The hangman did not close this long speech without
frequent interludes of beer and noisy bursts of laughter.
" He kills, and he sleeps !" murmured the minister;
" poor wretch!"
" What a lucky fellow the rascal is ! " exclaimed the
hermit.
"Yes, brother monk," said the hangman; "just as
much of a rascal as you are, but assuredly much luckier.
You see, the business would be a capital one if people did
not seem to take pleasure in cutting down my profits.
Would you believe it, some great wedding has just
afforded the chaplain newly appointed to Throndhjem a
pretext for asking the pardon of twelve criminals who
really belonged to me ? "
" Belonged to you!" cried the minister.
"Yes, to be sure. Father. Seven of them were sen¬
tenced to be whipped, two to be branded on the left cheek,
and three to be hanged, which makes twelve in all. Yes,
I shall lose twelve crowns and thirteen escalins if the
pardon is granted. What do you think, strangers, of
such a chaplain, who disposes so easily of my property ?
That confounded priest's name is Athanasius Munder.
Oh, if I could only get hold of him!"
The minister rose, and said in a quiet voice, with a calm
manner, " My son, I am Athanasius Munder."
At these words Orugix's face became inflamed with
fury; he started from his seat. Then liis angry eye met
the friendly gaze of the chaplain, and he sat down again
slowly, in mute confusion.
There was a momentary silence. Ordener, who had
risen from the table ready to defend the priest, was first
to break it.
" Nychol Orugix," said he, " here are thirteen crowns to
pay for the pardon of those prisoners."
" Alas!" interrupted the minister," who knows whether
I can obtain their pardon ? I must first manage to get a
word with the viceroy's son, for it all depends upon his
marrying the chancellor's daughter."
HANS OF ICELAXD.
93
" Sir Chaplain," answered the young man in a firm
voice, "your wish shall be granted. Even if Ordener
Guldenlew never wears the marriage ring, the chains of
your proteges shall be loosed."
" Young stranger, you can do nothing in the matter;
hut God hears, and will reward you!"
Meantime, Ordener's thirteen crowns had finished the
work which the priest's mild gaze began. Nychol's anger
being allayed, he recovered his good-humor.
" Come, reverend sir, you are a good man, worthy to serve
in St. Hilary's chapel; I spoke more harshly than I in¬
tended. You do but follow your own path ; it is not your
fault if it crosses mine. But there is one man to whom I
do bear a grudge, and that's the guardian of the dead at
Throndhjem,—that old sorcerer, the keeper of the Splad-
gest. What's his name now,—Spliugry ? Spadugry ? Tell
me, you old philosopher, who seem to be a perfect Babel of
learning,—you who know everything, can't you help me
to remember the name of that magician, your brother ?
You must have met him sometimes of a Sabbath, riding
through the air on a broomstick, eh ? "
Certainly, if poor Benignus could have escaped at that
moment upon some such aerial steed, the narrator of this
story doubts not that he would most gladly have trusted
his frail and terrified body to its tender mercies. Never
before was his love of life so strong as now that he clearly
perceived the extreme imminence of his danger. Every¬
thing that he saw frightened him,—the legends of the
Cursed Tower, the wild eyes of the red woman, the voice,
gloves, and beverage of the mysterious monk, the rash
courage of his young companion, and especially the hang¬
man,—the hangman, into whose abode he had fallen in
his effort to escape from the charge of crime. He trembled
so violently that he could scarcely move, particularly
when the conversation turned upon himself, and he heard
the dreadful Orugix's question. As he had no desire to
imitate the heroism of the priest, his faltering tongue
found great difliculty in framing a reply.
" Well!" repeated the hangman, "don't you know the
name of the keeper of the Spladgest? Does your wig
make you deaf? "
94
HANS OF ICELAND.
"Somewhat, sir; but," he finally stammered out, "I
don't know his name, I swear I don't."
"He don't know?" said the hermit's terrible voice.
" He does wrong to take oath to it. That man's name is
Benignus Spiagudry."
" My name! my name ! Great heavens! " exclaimed
the affrighted old man.
The hangman hurst out laughing.
"And who said that it was your name? "We are talking
of that dog of a keeper. In good sooth, this learned fellow
is scared at nothing. How would it be if his ridiculous
grimaces had a genuine cause ? It would be fun to hang
the old fool. So then, venerable doctor," added the hang¬
man, whom Spiagudry's fears entertained, " yon do not
know this Benignus S2:»iagudry ? "
"No, master," said the keeper, somewhat reassured by
his disguise; " I assure you I don't know him. And since
he is so unfortunate as to displease you, I should be very
sorry, master, indeed I should, if I did know the fellow."
" And you, hermit," said Orugix,—" you seem to know
him ? "
"Yes, truly," replied the hermit; "he is a tall, dried-
up, bald old fellow—"
Spiagudry, justly alarmed at this minute description,
hastily adjusted his wig.
" He has," added the hermit, " long hands like those of
a thief who has not seen a traveler for a week, a bent
back—"
Spiagudry sat up as straight as he could.
" Moreover, he might easily be taken for one of the
corpses in his charge if he had not such sharp eyes."
Spiagudry clapped his hand to his plaster.
"Many thanks. Father," said the hangman; "I shall
know the old Jew now, wherever I may run across him."
Spiagudry, who was an excellent Christian, indignant
at this intolerable insult, could not help exclaiming, " Jew,
master!"
Then he stopped short, trembling lest he had said too
much.
"Well, Jew or Pagan, what does it matter which, if he
have dealings with the Devil, as they say he has ? "
" I should readily believe it," rejoined the hermit, with
HANS OF ICELAND.
05
a sarcastic smile, not quite hidden by his cowl, " if he
were not such a coward. But how could he covenant
with Satan ? He is as cowardly as he is wicked. When
fear takes possession of him, he actually forgets his own
identity."
The hermit spoke slowly, as if with intention, the very
deliberation of his words lending them peculiar force.
" He forgets his own identity !" mentally repeated
Spiagudry.
" It's a pity for a bad man to be a coward," said the
hangman; "for he's not worth hating. We fight a ser¬
pent, but we can only crush a lizard."
Spiagudry ventured a few words in his own defense.
" But, gentlemen, are you sure that the official of whom
you speak is really what you say ? Is his reputation so
bad?"
• " His reputation!" repeated the hermit; " he has the
worst reputation of any man in the district!"
Benignus, in his disappointment, turned to the hangman,
" Master, what fault have you to find with him ? For
I do not doubt that your dislike is just."
" You are right, old man, not to doubt it. As his trade
resembles mine, Spiagudry does all he can to injure me."
" Oh, master, never believe it! Or, if it be so, it is be¬
cause he never saw you, as I have, surrounded by your
good wife and lovely children, admitting strangers to the
delights of your domestic circle. Had he enjoyed your
kind hospitality as I have, sir, the unfortunate man could
never be your enemy."
Spiagudry had scarcely ended this wily speech, when
the tall woman, who had been silent until then, rose, and
said in a sharp, stern voice, " The viper's tongue is never
more venomous than when it is smeared with honeJ^"
Then she sat down again, and went on polishing her
pincers,—a task whose hoarse, grating sound, filling up
the spaces in the conversation, performed the office of the
chorus in a Greek tragedy, at the "expense of the ears of
the four travelers.
" That woman is crazy indeed!" thought the keeper,
unable otherwise to explain the ill effect of his flat¬
tery. •
" Becky is right, my fair-haired sage," exclaimed the
00
BANS OF ICELAND.
li.ingman. "I shall think you have a viper's tongue, if
you defend that Spiagudry much longer."
" God forbid, master! " exclaimed the latter; " I would
not defend him for the world."
" Very good. You do not know how far he carries his
insolence. Would you believe that the impudent scamp
is bold enough to dispute my right to the possession of
Hans of Iceland ? "
" Hans of Iceland!" exclaimed the hermit.
" Yes, to be sure. Do you know that famous knave ? "
" Yes," said the hermit.
"Well, every thief belongs to the hangman, doesn't he ?
What does that infernal Spiagudry do ? He asks to have
a price set upon the head of Hans."
" He asks to have a price set upon the head of Hans ? "
interrupted the hermit.
" He had the audacity to do so, and that, simply that
the body might fall to his share, and I might be defrauded
of my property."
"What an outrage. Master Orugix, to dare to dis¬
pute your right to a thing which so plainly belongs
to you!"
These words were accompanied by a malicious smUe,
which alarmed Spiagudry.
" The trick is all the worse, hermit, because I only need
one good hanging, such as tliat of Hans would be, to re¬
move me from my obscurity, and to make the fortune
which I failed to make by beheading Schumacker."
" Indeed, Master Nychol ? "
" Yes, brother monk, on the day that Hans is arrested,
come and see me, and we will sacrifice a fat pig to my
future greatness."
" Gladly; but who knows whether I shall be at liberty
upon that day ? Besides, you just now sent ambition to
the Devil."
" Oh, why not, Father, when I see that to destroy my
best founded hopes it only needs a Spiagudry, and a re¬
quest to set a price upon a man's head ? "
" Ah! " repeated the hermit, in a peculiar tone; " so
Spiagudry asked that a price be set!"
That voice was to the wretched keeper what the toad's
eye is to a bird.
HANS OF ICELAND.
07
"Gentlemen," he urged, "why judge rashly? It is
not at all sure ; it may be a false report."
"A false report!" cried Orugix; "the thing is but too
certain. The petition of the city council, supported by
the signature of the keeper of the Spladgest, is in Thrond-
hjem at this very moment. It only waits the decision of
his excellency the governor-general."
The hangman was so well informed, that Spiagudry
dared not continue his defense; he contented himself
with swearing inwardly, for the hundredth time, at his
youthful companion. But what was his horror when he
heard the hermit, who for some moments had seemed lost
in thought, suddenly exclaim in bantering tones: " Master
Nychol, what is the penalty for sacrilege ? "
These words produced the same effect on Spiagudry as
if his periwig and plaster had been torn off. He anxiously
awaited the reply of Orugix, who stopped to empty his
glass.
" That depends on the nature of the sacrilege," said
the hangman.
" Suppose it was profaning the dead ? "
Upon this the shivering Spiagudry expected every in¬
stant to hear his name issue from the lips of the unaccoun¬
table monk.
"Formerly," coolly remarked Orugix, "they buried
the offender alive, with the body he had outraged."
" And now ? "
" Now the punishment is milder."
" Is milder! " said Spiagudry, scarcely daring to breathe.
"Yes," rejoined the hangman, with the satisfied and
indifferent air of an artist talking of his own art; " they
brand him first, with a hot iron, with the letter S, on the
calf of the leg."
"And then?" broke in the old keeper, upon whom it
would have been difficult to inflict this part of the sen¬
tence.
" Then," said the executioner, " they merely hang him."
" Mercy ! " said Spiagudry; " hang him ! "
" Well, what's the matter with you? You look at me
as the victim looks at the gallows."
" I am glad," said the hermit, " to see that people are
growing more humane."
7
08
IIAXf! OF ICELAND.
At this moment, the storm having ceased, the clear,
intermittent sound of a horn was distinctly heard outside.
"Nychol," said his wife, "they are in search of some
malefactor; that's the horn of the bowmen."
"The horn of the bowmen!" repeated each of the
company, in different accents, but Spiagudry in tones of
unmistakable terror.
They had scarcely uttered the words when there was a
knock at the door.
CHAPTER XIII.
Only a man, a sign, is needed ; the elements of revolution are
ready. Who will be the first ? So soon as there is a fulcrum,
everything will move.—Bonaparte.
Loevig is a large town, situated on the north side of
Throndhjem fjord, and sheltered by a low chain of bare
hills, singularly diversified by various sorts of crops, like
broad bits of mosaic resting upon the horizon. The ap¬
pearance of the town is gloomy; the fishermen's cabins,
made of twigs and reeds, the conical hut, constructed of
earth and stones, in which the invalid miner spends the
few days which his scanty savings allow him to devote to
sunshine and rest, and the frail ruin which the chamois-
hunter in his turn decks with a straw roof and walls
hung with skins, line streets longer than the town itself,
because they are narrow and crooked. In a square where
now exist only the remains of a great tower, once stood
the ancient fortress built by Horda the Fine Archer, lord
of Loevig, and brother-in-arms of the pagan king Halfdan,
occupied in 1698 by the mayor of the town, who would
have been the best-lodged citizen in the city, if it had not
been for the silvery stork Avho every summer perched on
the tip of the sharp spire of the church, like the white
pearl on the top of a mandarin's pointed cap.
On the morning of the same day that Ordener reached
Throndhjem, another personage, also incognito, landed at
Loevig. His gilded litter, although without armorial bear¬
ings, his four tall lackeys, armed to the teeth, instantly
became the topic of every conversation, and roused the
curiosity of all. The landlord of the Golden Gull, a small
HANS OF ICELAND. '^99
tavern at which the great man alighted, himself assumed
an air of mystery, and answered every question with an
" I don't know," which seemed to imply, " I know all, but
you shall know nothing." The tall lackeys were as mute
as fishes, and more obscure than the mouth of a mine.
The mayor shut himself up in his tower, .waiting with
great dignity for the stranger to make the first visit; but
the inhabitants were soon surprised to see him call twice
at the Golden Gull in vain, and at evening lie in wait for
a bow from the stranger, as he sat at the half-open win¬
dow. From this the gossips inferred that the great man
had made his high rank known to the lord mayor. They
were mistaken. A messenger sent by the stranger pre¬
sented himself at the mayor's office to get his passport
signed, and the mayor noticed upon the green seal two
crossed hands supporting an ermine mantle, surmounted
by a count's coronet upon a shield, from which depended
the collars of the Orders of the Elephant and the Danne-
brog. This was enough for the mayor, who was most
desirous of obtaining from the chancellor the lord mayor¬
alty of Throndhjem. But his advances were useless, for
the great man would see no one.
The second day of the traveler's stay in Loevig was
drawing to its close, when the landlord entered his room,
saying with a low bow that the messenger expected by
his Grace had arrived.
" Very well," said his Grace; " let him come up."
A moment later the messenger entered, carefully closed
the door, then bowing to the ground before the stranger,
who had half turned toward him, waited in respectful
silence until he should be addressed.
"I expected you this morning," said the stranger;
" what detained you ? "
«The interests of your Grace, Count; have I another
thought ?"
" How is Elphega ? How is Frederic ? "
" They are well."
" Good ! good! " broke in the master; " have you noth¬
ing more interesting to tell me ? What is the news at
Throndhjem ? "
"Nothing, excqpt that Baron Thorwick arrived there
yesterday."
100
HANS OF ICELAND.
" Yes, I know that he wanted to consult that old Meck-
lenburger, Levin, about his marriage. Do you know
the result of his interview with the governor ? "
" To-day at noon, when I left, he had not yet seen the
general."
" What! and he arrived last night! You surprise me,
Musdoemon. And had he seen the countess ? "
" Still less, sir."
" Then you saw him ? "
" No, noble master; besides, I do not know him."
" And how, if no one has seen him, do you know that
he is in Throndhjem ? "
" Through his servant, who was at the governor's palace
yesterday."
" But he,—did he go elsewhere ? "
" His servant declares that as soon as he arrived, he set
off for Munkholm, after first visiting the Spladgest."
The count's eye flashed fire.
" For Munkholm! For Schumacker's prison! Are you
positive ? I always suspected that honest Levin of being
a traitor. For Munkholm ! What can be the attraction
there? Did he want to ask Schumacker's advice also?
Did he—"
" Noble lord," interrupted Musdoemon, " it is by no
means certain that he went there."
" What! Then why did you say so ? Are you trifling
with me ? "
" Pardon me, your Grace! I merely repeated what the
baron's servant said. But Mr. Frederic, who was on duty
yesterday at Munkholm, saw nothing of Baron Ordener."
" That's no proof! My son does not know the vice¬
roy's son. Ordener may have entered the fortress in
disguise."
"Yes, sir; but Mr. Frederic asserts that he saw no
one."
The count grew calmer.
"That's a different matter. Did my son really say
so?"
" He assured me of the fact three separate times ; and
Mr. Frederic's interests in this case are identical with
your own."
This suggestion quite relieved the count.
HANS OF ICELAND.
101
" Ah!" said he, «I understand. The baron, on his ar¬
rival, must have wished to take a short sail on the fjord<
and his servant fancied that he went to Munkholm. After
all, why should he go there ? I was foolish to take alarm.
My son-in-law's lack of eagerness to see old Levin proves,
on the contrary, that his atfection for him is not so strong
as I feared. You will hardly believe it, my dear Musdoe-
mon," added the count, "but I actually imagined that
Ordener was in love with Ethel Schumacker, and I con¬
structed a romance and an intrigue out of this journey to
Munkholm. But, thank God, Ordener is not such a fool
as I am. By the way, my friend, how fares it with that
young Danae in Frederic's hands ? "
Musdoemon had shared his master's fears regarding
Ethel Schumacker, and had struggled against them with¬
out overcoming them quite so readily. However, charmed
to see his master smile, he took care not to disturb his
peace of mind, but rather sought to add to it, that he
might increase that serene temper so necessary in the
great for the well-being of their favorites.
" Noble Count, your son has failed with Schumacher's
daughter; but it seems that another has been more for¬
tunate."
The count interrupted him eagerly.
"Another! What other?"
" Oh, I don't know,—some peasant, serf, or vassal."
" Do you speak the truth ? " cried the count, his stern,
dark face beaming.
" Mr. Frederic declares that it is so, and he told the
countess the same story."
The count rose and paced the room, rubbing his hands.
" Musdoemon, dear Musdoemon, but one more effort,
and our end is gained. The young shoot is blasted. We
have only to uproot the parent tree. Have you any other
good news ? "
" Dispolsen has been murdered."
The count's features brightened.
" Ah, you see that we advance from victory to victory.
Have we his papers ? Above all, have we that iron cas¬
ket?"
" I regret to inforiji your Grace that the murder was
not committed by our people. _He was killed and robbed
102
HANS OF ICELAFD.
upon Urchtal Sands, and the deed is attributed to Hans
of Iceland."
« Hans of Iceland! " repeated his master, his brow again
clouding. " What! that famous brigand whom we meant
to put in charge of our rebellion ? "
" The same, noble Count; and I fear, from what I can
gather, that it will be no easy task to find him. At any
rate, I have secured a leader who will take his name, and
can replace him if necessary,—a wild mountaineer, tall
and strong as an oak, fierce and bold as a wolf in a wilder¬
ness of snow, this terrible giant must surely look much
like the real Hans of Iceland."
" Then Hans of Iceland is tall ? " inquired the count.
" That is the general opinion, your Grace."
"I cannot but admire, my dear Musdcemon, the art with
which you lay your plans. When is the insurrection to
break out ? "
" Oh, very soon, your Grace ; perhaps it is on foot even
now. The royal protectorate has long been odious to the
miners; they all grasped with joy at the idea of revolt.
The movement will begin at Guldbrandsdal, extend to
Sund-Moer, and reach Kongsberg. Two thousand miners
can be raised in three days. The rebellion will be kin¬
dled in Schumacker's name; our emissaries use no other.
The reserve forces in the South and the garrisons at
Throndhjem and Skongen can be called out, and you
will be here on the spot most opportunely to put
down the rebellion,—a fresh and significant service
in the eyes of the king,—and to rid him of this Schu¬
macher, the source of such anxiety to the throne. Upon
these firm foundations will rise the structure to be
crowned by the marriage of our noble lady Ulrica and
Baron Thorwick."
A private interview between two scoundrels is never
long, because all that is human in their souls quickly takes
alarm at the infernal qualities revealed. AVhen two de¬
praved spirits mutually display their naked vices, each is
disgusted by the other's iniquity. Crime itself revolts at
crime; and two evil-doers conversing, with all the cyni¬
cism of intimacy, of their pleasures and their interests, are
like a fearful mirroi', each refiecting the other's monstrous
features. Their own degradation mortifies them when
HANS OF ICELAND.
103
seen in another, their own pride confounds them, their
own nothingness alarms them ; and they cannot fly from
themselves or disavow their own portrait in their fellow-
man ; for each odious harmony, each frightful coincidence, ,
each hideous parallel finds within them an untiring voice
to denounce them in their ever-wearied ear. However
secret may be their intercourse, it has always two in¬
tolerable witnesses,—God, whom they cannot see, and
conscience, which they feel.
His confidential talks with Musdoemon distressed the
* count the more because the latter always unhesitatingly
imputed to his master a good share of the crimes com¬
mitted or about to be committed. Many courtiers think
it wise to save great men from the appearance of wrong¬
doing ; they assume the responsibility of evil, and often
spare their patron's blushes by allowing him to feign re¬
sistance to advantageous crime. Musdoemon, by a refine¬
ment of skill, pursued the contrary course. He wished .
it to seem that he seldom advised, and always obeyed.
He knew his master's soul as familiarly as that master
knew his heart; therefore he never compromised himself
without compromising the count. There was no head,
save that of Schumacker, that the count would have been
so glad to see fall; Musdoemon knew this as well as if his.
master had told him, and his master knew that he knew it.
The count had learned all that he wished to learn ; he
was satisfied ; he was now eager to dismiss Musdoemon.
" Musdoemon," said he, with a gracious smile, " you are
the most faithful and most zealous of all my servants.
All goes well, and I owe it to your devotion. I make you
private secretary to the chancellor's office."
Musdoemon bowed low.
" Nor is that all," added the count; " I will ask for you,
for the third time, the Order of the Dannebrog. But I
still fear that your birth, your humble relations—"
Musdoemon blushed, turned pale, and hid his change of
color by another boAV.
" Come," said the count, offering him his hand to kiss,
"come, IMr. Private Secretary, draw up your placeat!
It may chance to find the king in gracious mood."
" Whether his JMijjesty grant my petition or not, your
Grace's kindness overwhelms me."
104
HANS OF ICELAND.
«Make haste, my dear fellow, for I am anxious to be
ofif. We must try to get some exact information about
this Hans."
Musdoemon, with a third bow, opened the door.
"Ah! " said the count, "I forgot. In your new posi¬
tion as private secretary, you may write to the chan¬
cellor's office and order them to dismiss this mayor of
Loevig, who compromises the dignity of bis position in
the eyes of the villagers by bis servility to strangers
whom be does not know."
CHAPTER XIV.
The monk at midnight visiting the cross,
The knight taming his fleiy steed,
The man who with dread sound of trumpet dies.
And lie who dies with peaceful voice of prayer.
Are all the objects of Thy care, lavished alike
On every pious soul, whether he tonsure wear or helm.
Hymn to Saint Anselm.
"Yes, master, we really owe a pilgrimage to Lynrass
grotto. Who would have thought that the hermit,
whom I cursed as if be bad been the Devil, would prove
to be our guardian angel, and that the sword which
seemed to threaten our very lives would serve for a bridge
to take us over the abyss ? "
It was in these somewhat grotesquely figurative terms
that Benignus Spiagudry poured into Ordener's ears his
joy, his admiration, and his gratitude for the mysterious
monk. As will readily be supposed, our two travelers
had left the Cursed Tower; nay, when we again encounter
them, they have even left the village of Vygla far behind
them, and are painfully pursuing a steep path, interrupted
by frequent pools or blocked by huge stones, which tran¬
sient torrents caused by storms had washed down from
the wet, sticky soil. Day had not yet dawned; but the
bushes growng above the rocks on either side of the
road stood out against the clear sky like dark silhouettes,
and various objects, although still colorless, gradually as¬
sumed form in the dim, dull light which daybreak in the
North filters through the chill fogs of early morning.
Ordener was silent, for he had yielded to that suiunolent
IIANS OF ICELAND.
105
state sometimes permitted by the mechanical motion of
walking. He had not slept since the night before, when
he allowed himself to rest in a fishing-boat moored in
Throndhjem harbor for the few hours intervening be¬
tween his departure from the Spladgest and his arrival at
Munkholm. Accordingly, while his body moved toward
Skongen his spirit had fiown back to Throndhjem Fjord,
—to that gloomy prison and those melancholy towers
which contained the only being on earth to whom he at¬
tached any idea of hope and happiness.
Awake, thoughts of his Ethel filled his mind; asleep,
her memory became a fanciful image which irradiated all
his dreams. In this second life of sleep, where for a
time the soul alone exists, and the physical being with all
its material ills seems to disappear, he saw the beloved
maiden, no more beautiful, no purer, than in reality, but
happier, freer, more wholly his own. Only, upon the road
to Skongen, the oblivion of his body, the torpor of his senses,
could not be complete; for from time to time a bog, a
stone, the branch of a tree, impeding his progress, recalled
him suddenly from the ideal to the real. He would then
raise his head, half open his drowsy eyes, and regret the
fall from bright celestial wanderings to his painful earthly
journey, where nothing could compensate for his lost illu¬
sions, save that he felt close to his heart the ringlet
which was his until Ethel herself should be his own.
Then this memory revived the charming dream-image,
and he gently relapsed, not into slumber, but into a
vague, persistent revery.
" Master," repeated Spiagudry, in a louder tone, which,
combined with a blow from the trunk of a tree, aroused
Ordener, "fear nothing. The bowmen turned to the
right with the hermit when they left the tower, and we
are far enough away from them to venture to speak. It
is true that silence was most prudent until now."
" Indeed," said Ordener, yawning, «you push your
prudence to extremes. It is at least three hours since we
left the tower and the bowmen behind us."
" That is true, sir; but prudence never does any harm.
Only think, if I had declared myself when the chief of
that infernal troop a^ked for Beuignus Spiagudry in a
voice like that of Saturn calling for his new-born son
106
HANS OF ICELAND.
that he might devour him! Suppose, even, I had not
taken refuge in a prudent silence at that awful moment,
where should I be now, noble master ? "
" Faith, old man, I fancy that at that moment nothing,
not even pincers, could have drawn your name from you."
" Was I wrong, master ? If I had spoken, the monk,—
may Saint Hospitius, and Saint Usbald the Solitary, bless
him!—the monk would have had no opportunity to ask
the captain of the archers whether his men did not be¬
long to the Munkholm regiment; a trifling question^
merely asked in order to gain time. Did you notice, sir,
after that stupid archer answered ' Yes,' with tvhat a pecul¬
iar smile the monk requested him to follow him, saying
that he knew the hiding-place of the fugitive, Benignus
Spiagudry ? "
Here the keeper paused for a moment, as if to make a
fresh start; for he suddenly resumed, in a voice quivering
with emotion : " A good priest, a worthy and upright an¬
chorite, practising the principles of Christian virtue and
evangelic charity ; and I was alarmed at his mere outward
appearance, forbidding enough, truly ; but what a beautiful
soul lies beneath! Did you notice too, noble master, that
there was something peculiar in the tone with which he
said to me, ' We shall meet again !' as he led away the
archers ? At any other time that tone would have alarmed
me ; but it is not the pious and excellent hermit's fault.
Solitude undoubtedly gives tbat strange intonation; for I
know, sir,"—here the voice of Benignus sank lower,—" I
know another hermit, that dreadful fellow who—But no ;
out of respect for the venerable hermit of Lynrass I will
not make so odious a comparison. Neither was there aii}'-
thing peculiar about his gloves ; it is quite cold enough
to wear them; and his salty beverage does not surprise
me either. Catholic anchorites often follow singular ex¬
amples ; the very same thing, master, is alluded to in this
line by the famous Urensius, the monk of Mount Cau¬
casus :—
' Eivos despiciens, maris undam potat amaram.'
Wliy didn't I think of that verse while I was in that con¬
founded ruin at Vygla 'i A little better memory would
HANS OF ICELAND.
107
have spared me much needless alarm. To he sure, it is
not easy, is it, sir, to collect your thoughts .in such a den,
seated at the table of a hangman,—a hangman, a creature
given over to universal scorn and execration, who only
differs from an assassin in the frequency and impunity of
his murders; whose heart to all the atrocity of the most
awful brigands unites the cowardice of which at least
their daring crimes do not admit; a being who offers food
and drink with the same hand that wields the instruments
of torture, and crushes the bones of his miserable victims
between the planks of the rack! Think of breathing the
same air with a hangman! And the vilest beggar, if pol¬
luted by his loathsome touch, would cast aside with horror
the last rags which protected his nakedness and his disease
from the wintry blast! And the chancellor, after sealing
his commission, flings the paper under the table in token
of his malediction and his disgust! And in France, when
the hangman dies in his turn, the provost's assistants
would rather pay a fine of forty pounds than succeed him !
And at Pesth, when Churchill was condemned to die, and
they offered to pardon him if he would turn executioner,
he preferred death to such a trade. Is it not still notori¬
ous, noble sir, that Turmei-yn, bishop of Miiestricht, or¬
dered a church to be purified because the hangman had
entered it; and that Czarina Petrowna washed her face
whenever she witnessed an execution? You know also
that the kings of France, to honor warriors, permit them
to be punished by their comrades, so that these brave men
even if they be criminals, may not be made infamous by
contact with the hangman. And finally, which is decisive,
in the ' Descent of Saint George into Hell,' by the learned
Melasius Iturham, does not Charon give the robber, Robin
Hood, precedence over the hangman, Philip Crass ? Truly,
master, if ever I attain to power, which God alone can
foresee, I shall put down hangmen, and restore the ancient
custom and the ancient tariff. For the murder of a prince
a man shall pay, as in 1150, fourteen hundred and forty
double-crown pieces; for the murder of a count, fourteen
hundred and forty plain crowns; for that of a baron, four¬
teen hundred and forty half-crowns ; the killing of a mere
noble shall be rated^t fourteen hundred and forty escalins;
and that of a citizen—"
108
HANS OF ICELAND.
" Don't I hear the tread of a horse coming toward us ? "
interrupted Ordener.
They looked back, and, as day had dawned during Spia-
gudry's long soliloquy, they could distinguish, a hundred
paces behind them, a man dressed in black waving one
hand to them, and with the other urging on one of
those small dingy white ponies so often seen, either
wild or domesticated, in the lower mountain ranges of
Norway.
" For mercy's sake, master," said the timid keeper, "let
us hasten ; that black fellow looks to me just like an
archer!"
" What, old man; we are two, and we should fly before
a single man!"
" Alas! twenty sparrows fly before an owl. What glory
is there in waiting for an offlcer of the law ? "
" And who tells you that this is one ?" rejoined Or¬
dener, Avhose eyes were not blinded by fear. " Keep up
your courage, my valiant guide ; I recognize this traveler.
Let us wait for him."
The keeper was forced to submit. A moment later the
horseman came up with them, and Spiagudry ceased to
tremble when he saw the grave, calm face of the chaplain,
Athanasius Munder.
The latter greeted them with a smile, and reined in his
steed, saying in an almost breathless voice, " My dear chil¬
dren, it is for your sake that I retrace my steps; and the
Lord will surely not permit my absence, prolonged with
a charitable intent, to injure those who sorely need my
presence."
" Sir Minister," answered Ordener, " we shall be happy
to aid you in any way we can."
" On the contrary, it is I, noble young man, who desire
to serve you. Will you deign to tell me the object of
your journey ? "
" Reverend sir, I cannot."
" All I ask, my' son, is that your refusal may proceed
from inability, and not from distrust. If not, I am indeed
unhappy! Unhappy is he whom the good man distrusts,
even if he have seen him but once !"
The priest's modesty and unction touched Ordener
deeply.
HANS OF ICELAND.
109
" All that I can tell you, Father, is that we are bound
to the mountains of the North."
" So I thought, my son, and that is why I followed you.
There are bands of roving hunters and miners in those
mountains who might injure travelers."
" What then ? "
" W ell, I know that it is useless to dissuade a noble
young man in search of adventure; but the esteem I feel
for you inspires me with another plan for helping you.
The unfortunate counterfeiter to whom I bore the last
consolations of religion yesterday was a miner. Just
before he died he gave me a paper inscribed with his
name, saying that this passport would protect me from
all danger if I ever had to travel among those mountains.
Alas! what can it avail a poor priest who must live and
die among prisoners, and who, moreover, inter castra latro-
num, should seek no other defense than patience and
prayer, the only weapons of God ! I did not decline the
pass, because we should never distress by refusal the
heart of one who in a few minntes more will have noth¬
ing to receive or to give on earth. The good God deigned
to inspire me, for now I can offer you this parchment,
that it may go with you in all the perils of your journey,
and that the gift of the dying man may benefit the
traveler."
Ordener accepted the old priest's gift with emotion.
" Sir Chaplain," said he, " God grant that your prayer
may be heard! Thank you. But," he added, laying his
hand on his sword, " I already carry my passport at my
side."
"Young man," said the priest, "that poor parchment
may perhaps protect you better than your steel blade.
The gaze of a penitent man is more potent than the arch¬
angel's sword. Farewell! My prisoners await me.
Pray sometimes for them and me."
"Holy priest," rejoined Ordener, with a smile, "I told
you that your prisoners should be pardoned, and they
shall be."
" Oh, do not speak with such assurance, my son! Do
not tempt the Lord I No man can know what passes in
the mind of another^ and you cannot tell what the vice¬
roy's son may decide to do. Perhaps, alas! he will never
110 BANS OF ICELAND.
condescend to admit a humble chaplain to his presence.
Farewell, my son; may your journey be blessed, and may
you sometimes remember the poor priest and pray for his
unhappy prisoners."
CHAPTER XV.
Welcome, Hugo ; tell me, did you ever see so terrible a storm ?—
Maturin: Bertram.
In a room communicating with the apartments of the
Governor of Throndhjem, three of his Excellency's
secretaries sat at a table loaded with parchments, papers,
inkstands, and seals, a fourth chair, left vacant, showing
that one of the scribes was late. They had been silently
writing and thinking for some time, when one of them
exclaimed: " Did you know, Wapherney, that the poor
librarian, Foxtipp, is to be dismissed by the bishop, owing
to the letter which you wrote recommending Dr. Angly-
vius's petition to his favorable notice ? "
"What nonsense are you talking, Richard?" hastily
inquired the secretary to whom Richard had not spoken.
" Wapherney could not have written in favor of Angly-
vius, for the fellow's petition disgusted the general when
I read it to him."
" So you told me," answered Wapherney ; " but I found
the word tribuatur * written on the petition in his Ex¬
cellency's own hand."
" Indeed!" exclaimed the other.
" Yes, my dear fellow; and several other of his Excel¬
lency's decisions of which you told me, were also altered
in marginal notes. For instance, on the petition of the
miners, the general wrote, negetur"
" What! I can't understand that; the general dreaded
the turbulent spirit of those miners."
" Perhaps he wanted to frighten them into submission
by his severity. What makes me think so is that Chap¬
lain Munder's request for the pardon of twelve condemned
prisoners is also refused."
The secretary whom Wapherney addressed, rose ab-
* It is granted.
UANfi OF ICELAND.
Ill
ruptlj', saying, " Oh, come now, I can't believe that; the
governor is too kind, and expressed too much compassion
for those prisoners to—"
"Very well, Arthur," answered Wapherhey; "read it
for yourself."
Arthur took the petition and saw the fatal words.
" Really," said he, " I can scarcely credit my own eyes.
I must present this to the governor again. What day did
his Excellency mark these papers ? "
" I believe it was some three days ago," replied
Wapherney.
" That was," said Richard in a low voice," the morning
before Baron Ordener's brief appearance and mysteriously
sudden disappearance."
" Stay ! " quickly exclaimed Wapherney, before Arthur
had time to answer; " if here is not another tribiiatur on
Benignus Spiagudry's ridiculous petition ! "
Richard burst out laughing.
" Didn't that old keeper of corpses disappear in a
strange way, too ? "
"Yes," replied Arthur; " a body was found in his char¬
nel-house so mutilated that the officers of the law are in
pursuit of him on a charge of sacrilege. But a little Lapp,
who acted as his servant, and who was left alone at the
Spladgest, thinks, as do most people, that the Devil car¬
ried him off for a sorcerer."
"Here," said Wapherney, laughing, "is a fellow who
leaves a good reputation behind him ! "
He had hardly had his laugh out when the fourth secre¬
tary came in.
" Upon my honor, Gustavus, you are very late this
morning. Did you happen to get married yesterday ? "
" Oh, no ! " answered Wapherney ; " he only took the
longest way round, so that he might pass under the fair
Rosalie's windows in his new cloak."
" Wapherney," said the newcomer, " I only wish that
you were riglit. But the cause of my delay is not half so
agreeable; and I doubt if my new cloak produced the
slightest effect upon the persons whom I visited."
"Where have you been, then?" asked Arthur.
" To the Spladgest."
" Heaven is my witness," cried Wapherney, dropping
112
HANS OF ICELAND.
his pen, " that we were just now speaking of that place!
But though it may be talked of to pass away the time, I
cannot conceive how anybody can enter it."
" And still less," said Richard, " how anybody can linger
there. But what did you see, my dear Gustavus ? "
" Yes," said Gustavus, "you are curious to hear about
it, if not to see it; and it would serve you right if I re¬
fused to describe those horrors which you would shudder
to behold."
The three secretaries crowded about Gustavus, who
waited to be urged, although his desire to tell what he had
seen was secretly no less lively than their curiosity to
hear.
" Well, Wapherney, you can repeat my story to your
little sister, who is so fond of frightful tales. I was
pushed into the Spladgest by the crowd which thronged
about it. The bodies of three soldiers and two bowmen
from the Munkholm regiment had just been bi'ought in,
having been found yesterday some four miles away, in the
ravine at the foot of Cascadthymore cliff. Some of the
spectators declared that the poor fellows were the very
ones sent out three days ago in the direction of Skongen
to catch the runaway keeper of the Spladgest. If this be
true, it is impossible to imagine how so many well-armed
men could be murdered. The mutilation of the bodies
seems to prove that they were flung from the top of the
rocks. It made my hair stand on end to look at them."
" What, Gustavus! did you see them ?" eagerly in¬
quired Wapherney.
"They are still before my eyes."
" And has any one an idea as to the authors of the
crime ? "
" Some think that it may have been a band of miners,
and assert that they heard the sound of the horn with
which the soldiers call to one another, only yesterday
among the mountains."
" Really ! " said Arthur.
" Yes; but an old peasant demolished this supposition
by remarking that there were neither mines nor miners
in the neighborhood of Cascadthymore."
" Then who could it have been ? "
"No one knows. If the bodies were not intact, it
HANS OF ICELAND.
113
might be supposed the work of wild beasts, for their limbs
are covered with long, deep scratches. The same is the
case with the corpse of a white-bearded old man brought
into the Spladgest day before yesterday, after that fearful
storm which prevented you, my dear Leander Wapherney,
from visiting your Hero across the fjord, on the Larsynn
shore."
" All right, Gustavus," said Wapherney laughing. " But
who was this old man ? "
" From his height, his long white beard, and a rosary
still clasped tightly in his hands, although he had been
stripped of everything else, he was recognized as a her¬
mit of the neighborhood; I believe they called him the
Monk of Lynrass. It is e\adent that this poor man was
murdered also; but for what purpose ? People are not
slaughtered now for their religious opinions, and the old
hermit possessed nothing in the world but his serge gown
and the good-will of all who knew him."
" And you say," observed Richard, " that his body was
mangled, like those of the soldiers, as if by the claws of
some savage animal ? "
" Yes, my dear boy ; and a fisherman declares that he
noticed the same marks upon the body of an officer found
murdered a few days since upon TJrchtal Sands."
« That is strange," said Arthur.
" It is frightful," said Richard.
" Come," said Wapherney, "silence, and to work, for I
think the general will be here soon. My dear Gustavus,
I am curious to see those corpses. If you like, we will
stop a moment at the Spladgest when we leave here this
evening."
8
114
HANS OF ICELAND.
CHAPTER XVI.
She with young unwakened senses.
"Within lier cabin on the Alpine field
Her simple liomely life commences,
Her little world therein concealed.
And I, God's liate flung o'er me,
Had not enough, to thrust
The stubborn rocks before me
And strike them into dust !
She and her peace 1 yet must undermine :
Thou, Hell, hast claimed this sacrifice as thine !
Goethe : Faust, Bayard Taylor's Translation.
In 1675, twenty-four years previous to the date of this
story, sooth to say, the whole village of Thoctree rejoiced
and made merry over the marriage of sweet Lucy Felryhn
and that tall, handsome, upright youth, Carroll Stadt.
They had long been lovers, and every one felt a warm
interest in the happy pair upon the day which was to
change so many restless hopes and eager longings into
assured and quiet bliss. Born in the same village, reared
in the same fields, Carroll had often in their childhood
slept in Lucy's lap when tired of play; Lucy liad often, as
a young girl, leaned on Carroll's arm as she returned from
work. Lucy, was the loveliest and most modest maiden
in the land; Carroll the bravest and noblest lad in the
village. They loved eaeh other, and they coilld no more
remember the day when their love began than they could
recall the day when they were born.
But their marriage did not come, like their love, easily
and as a matter of eourse. There were domestic interests
to be consulted,—family feuds, relations, obstacles. They
were parted for a whole year ; and Carroll suffered sadly
far from Lucy, and Lucy wept bitter tears far from Carroll,
before the dawn of that happy day which united them,
thereafter never to suffer or to weep apart.
It was by saving her from great danger that Carroll
finally won his Lucy. He heard cries from the woods
one day ; they were uttered by his Lucy, surprised by a
brigand dreaded by all the mountain folk, and ou the point
HANS OF ICELAND.
115
of carrying her off to his den. Carroll boldly attacked
this monster in human shape, who gave vent to strange
growls like those of a wild beast. Yes, he attacked the
wretch, whom none before had ventured to resist. Love
lent him a lion's strength. He rescued his beloved Lucy,
resto' ed her to her father, and her father gave her to her
deliverer.
Now, the whole village made merry upon the day which
united these two lovers. Lucy alone seemed depressed;
add yet never had she gazed more tenderly at her dear
Carroll. But her gaze was as sad as it was loving, and
amid the universal rejoicing this was a subject for surprise.
Every moment, as her husband's happiness seemed to in¬
crease, her eyes expressed more and more love and despair.
" Oh, my Lucy," said Carroll, when the sacred rites
were over, " the coming of that robber, a curse to the
entire country, was the greatest blessing for me !"
She shook her head, and made no answer.
Night came; they were left alone in their new abode,
and the sports and dancing on the village green went on
more merrily than before, to celebrate the happiness of
the bridal pair.
.Next morning Carroll Stadt had vanished. A few
words in his handwriting were brought to Lucy's father
by a hunter fi'om the mountains of Kiblen, who met him
before dayliglit wandering along the shore of the fjord.
Old Will Beh'yhn showed the paper to his pastor and
the mayor, and nothing was left of last night's festival
but Lucy's gloom and dull despair.
This mysterious catastrophe dismayed the entire village,
and vain efforts were made to explain it. Prayers for
Carroll's soul were said in the same church where but a
few days before he himself sang hymns of thanksgiving
for his happiness.
No one knew what kept Widow Stadt alive. At the
end of nine months of solitary grief she brought into the
world a son, and on the same day the village of Golyn
was destroyed by the fall of the hanging cliff above it.
The birth of this son did not dissipate his mother's deep
depression. Gill Stadt showed no signs of resemblance to
Carroll. His fierce^ angry infancy seemed to prophecy a
still more ferocious manhood. Sometimes a little wild
116
IIAyS OF ICELAND.
man—whom those mountaineers who saw him from a
distance asserted to be the famous Hans of Iceland—en¬
tered the lonely hut of Carroll's widow, and the passers-
by would then hear a woman's shrieks and what seemed
the roar of a tiger. The man would carry off young Gill,
and months would elapse ; then he would restore him to
his mother, more somber and more terrible than before.
Widow Stadt felt a mixture of horror and affection for
the child. Sometimes she would clasp him in her ma¬
ternal arms, as the only tie which still bound her to earth;
again she would repulse him with terror, calling upon
Carroll, her dear Carroll. No one in the world knew
what agitated her soul.
Gill reached his twenty-third year; he saw GuthSter-
sen, and loved her madly.
Guth Stersen was rich, and he was poor; therefore he
set off for Roeraas and turned miner, in order to make
money. His mother never heard from him again.
One night she sat at the wheel, by which she earned
her daily bread; the lamp burned Ioav as she worked and
waited in her cabin, beneath those walls which had grown
old like herself, in solitude and grief, the silent witnesses
of her mysterious wedding-night. She thought anxiously
of her son, whose presence, ardently desired as it was,
would recall much sorrow, perhaps bring more in its
train. The poor mother loved her son, ungrateful as he
was. And how could she help loving him, she had
suffered so much for him ?
She rose and took from an antique wardrobe a crucifix
thickly coated with dust. For an instant she looked at
it imploringly ; then suddenly casting it from her in hor¬
ror, she cried: " I pray ? How can I pray ? Your prayers
can only be addressed to hell, poor woman! You belong
to hell, and to hell alone."
She had relapsed into her mournful revery, when there
was a knock at the door.
This was a rare event with Widow Stadt. For many
long years, in consequence of the strange incidents fcon-
nected with her history, the whole village of Thoctree
believed that she had dealings with evil spirits ; no one
therefore ever ventured near her hut,—strange super¬
stitions of that age and ignorant region ! She owed to
Tearing off ills gloves, his black beard, and his cowl, the man
revealed a tierce countenance. Page 117.
Hans of Iceland.
UANS OF ICELAND.
117
her misfortunes the same reputation for witchcraft that
the keeper of the Spladgest owed to his learning.
" What if it were my son, if it were Gill!" she ex¬
claimed ; and she rushed to the door.
Alas! it was not her son. It was a little monk clad in
serge, his cowl covering all of his face but a black beard.
" Holy man," said the widow, " what would you have ?
You do not know the house to which you come."
"Yes, truly !" replied the hermit in a hoarse and all
too familiar voice.
And tearing off his gloves, his black beard, and his cowl,
he revealed a fierce countenance, a red beard, and a pair ^
of hands armed with tremendous claws.
" Oh ! " cried the widow burying her head in her hands.
" Well," said the little man, " have you not in four-and-
twenty years grown used to seeing the husband upon
whom you must gaze through all eternity ? "
" Through all eternity !" she repeated in a terrified
whisper.
« Hark ye, Lucy Pelryhn, I bring you news of your
son."
" My son! Where is he ? Why does he not come ? "
" He cannot."
" But you have news of him. I thank you. Alas! and
can you bring me pleasure ? "
« They are pleasant tidings indeed that I bring you,"
said the man in hollow tones ; " for you are a weak
woman, and I wonder that you could bring forth such a
son. Rejoice and be glad. You feared that your son
would follow in my footsteps ; fear no longer."
" What! " cried the enraptured mother, " has my son,
my beloved Gill, changed ? "
The hermit watched her raptures with an ominous sneer.
" Oh, greatly changed ! " said he.
" And why did he not fiy to my arms ? Where did
you see him ? What was he doing ? "
" He was asleep."
In the excess of her joy, the widow did not notice the
little man's ominous look, nor his horrible and scofBng
manner.
« Why did you not wake him ? Why did not you say
to him, ' Gill, come t(f your mother' ? "
118 • ' IIAN& OF ICELAND.
" His sleep was too sound."
" Oh, when will he come ? Tell me, I implore, if I shall
see him soon."
The mock monk drew from beneath his gown a sort of
cup of singular shape.
" There, widow," said he, " drink to your son's speedy
return!"
The widow uttered a shriek of horror. It was a hu¬
man skull. She waved it away in terror, and could not
utter a word.
" No, no! " abruptly exclaimed the man, in an awful
voice, " do not turn away your eyes, woman; look. You
asked to see your son. Look, I say! for this is aU that is
left of him."
And by the red light of the lamp, he offered the dry
and fleshless skull of her son to the mother's pale lips.
Too many waves of misfortune had passed over her soul
for one misery the more to crush her. She gazed at the
cruel monk with a fixed and meaningless stare.
" Dead!" she whispered ; " dead! Then let me die."
" Die, if you choose! But remember, Lucy Pelryhn,
Thoctree woods; remember the day when the demon,
taking possession of your body, gave your soul to hell!
I am that demon, Lucy, and you are my wife forever!
Now, die if you will."
It is the belief in those superstitious regions that in-
fei'nal spirits sometimes appear among men to lead lives
of crime and calamity. In common with other noted
criminals, Hans of Iceland enjoyed this fearful renown.
It was also believed that a woman, who by seduction or
by violence, became the prey of one of these monsters in
human form, by that misfortune was doomed to be his
companion in hell.
The events of which the hermit reminded the widow
seemed to revive in her these thoughts.
" Alas!" she sobbed, " then I cannot escape from this
wretched existence! And what have I done ? for you
know, my beloved Carroll, I am innocent. A young girl's
arm is without strength to resist the arm of a demon."
She rambled on ; her eyes were wild with delirium, and
her incoherent words seemed born of the convulsive quiver
of her lips.
HANS OF ICELAyn.
119
"Yes, Carroll, since that day, though polluted, I am
innocent; and the demon asks me if I remember that hor¬
rible day! Carroll, I never deceived you; you came too
late. I was his before I was yours, alas ! Alas ! and I
must be forever punished. No, I can never rejoin you,—
you for whom I weep. What would it avail me to die ?
I should follow this monster into a world as fearful as
himself,—the world of the damned ! And what have I
done ? Must my misfortunes in this life become my
crimes in the next ? "
The little monk bent a look of triumph and command
upon her face.
" Ah! " she suddenly exclaimed, turning toward him;
" ah, tell me, is not this some fearful dream induced by
your presence ? For you know but too well, alas! that
since the day of my ruin, every night that I am visited
by your fatal spirit is marked by foul apparitions, awful
dreams, and frightful visions."
" Woman, woman, cease your raving ; it is as true that
you are wide awake as it is true that Gill is dead."
The memory of her past misfortunes had, as it were,
blotted out all thought of her fresh grief; these words
revived it.
" Oh, my son! my son ! " she moaned; and the tones of
her voice would have moved any but the wicked being
who heard it. "No, he will return; he is not dead; I
cannot believe that he is dead."
" Well, go ask him of Roeraas rocks, which crushed out
his life ; of Throndhjem Fjord, which swallowed up his
body."
The widow fell upon her knees, crying convulsively,
" God! great God ! "
" Be silent, servant of hell! "
The wretched woman was silent. He added: " Do not
doubt your son's death ; he was punished for the sins of
his father. He let his granite heart melt in the sunlight
of a woman's eyes. I possessed you, but I never loved you.
Your Carroll's misfortune was also his. My son and
yours was deceived by his betrothed, by her for whom he
died."
" Died!" she repe^ed, " died ! Then it is really true ?
Oh, Gill, you were born of my misery; you were conceived
120
BAJ^S OF ICELAND.
in terror and born in sorrow; your lips lacerated my
breast; as a child, you never returned my caresses or em¬
braces ; you always shunned and repulsed your mother,
your lonely and forsaken mother ! You never tried to
make me forget -my past distress, save by causing me
fresh injury. You deserted me for the demon author of
your existence and of my widowhood. Never, in long
years. Gill, never did you procure me one thrill of pleasure;
and yet to-day your death, my son, seems to me the most
insupportable of all my afflictions. Your memory to-day
seems to me to be twined with comfort and rapture.
Alas ! alas! "
She could not go on ; she covered her head with her
coarse black woollen veil, and sobbed bitterly.
" Weak woman !" muttered the hermit; then he con¬
tinued in a firm voice : " Control your grief; I laugh at
mine. Listen, Lucy Pelryhn. While you still weep for
your son, I have already begun to avenge him. It was
for a soldier in the Munkholm regiment that his sweet¬
heart betrayed him. The whole regiment shall perish by
my hands. Look, Lucy Pelryhn ! "
He had rolled up the sleeves of his gown, and showed
the widow his misshapen arms stained with blood.
"Yes," he said with a fierce roar, "Gill's spirit shall
delight to haunt Urchtal Sands and Cascadthymore
ravine. Come, woman, do you not see this blood ? Be
comforted!"
Then all at oncfe, as if struck by a sudden thought, he in¬
terrupted himself: "Widow, did you not receive an iron
casket from me ? What! I sent you gold and I bring
you blood, and you still weep. Are you not human ? "
The Avidow, absorbed in her despair, was silent.
" What!" said he, with a fierce laugh, " motionless and
mute. You are no woman, then, Lucy Pelryhn ! " and he
shook her by the arm to rouse her. " Did not a mes¬
senger bring you an iron casket ? "
The widow, lending him a brief attention, shook her
head, and relapsed into her gloomy revery.
" Ah, the wretch !" cried the little man, " the miserable
traitor! Spiagudry, that gold shall cost you dear !"
And stripping off his gown, he rushed from the hut
■with the growl of a hyena that scents a corpse.
HANS OF ICELAND.
121
CHAPTER XVII.
My lord, I braid my hair; I braid it with salt tears because you
leave me alone, and because you go hence into the hills.—The
■ Count's Lady (Old Romance).
' Ethel, meantime, had already reckoned four long and
weary days since she was left to wander alone in the
dark garden of Schleswig tower; alone in the ora¬
tory, the witness of so many tears, the confidant of so
many longings; alone in the long gallery, where once
upon a time she had failed to hear the midnight bell.
Her aged father sometimes accompanied her, but she was
none the less alone, for the true companion of her life was
absent.
Unfortunate young girl! What had that pure young
soul done that it should be thus early given over to so
much sorrow ? Taken from the world, from honors,
riches, youthful delights, and from the triumphs of beauty,
she was still in the cradle when she was already in a
prison cell; a captive with her captive father, she had
grown up watching his decay; and to complete her misery,
that she might not be ignorant of any form of bondage,
love had sought her out in prison.
Even then, could she but have kept her Ordener at her
side, would liberty have tempted her? Would she ever
have known that a world existed from which she was cut
off ? Moreover, would not her world, her heaven, have
been with her in that narrow keep, within those gloomy
towers bristling with soldiers, toward which the passer¬
by would still have cast a pitying glance ?
But, alas ! for the second time her Ordener was absent;
and instead of spending all too brief but ever-recurring
hours with him in holy caresses and chaste embi'aces, she
passed days and nights in bewailing his absence, and
praying that he might be shielded from danger. For a
maiden has only hey prayers and her tears.
Sometimes she longed for the wings of the free swal-
122
HANS OF ICELAND.
low which came to her to be fed through her prison bars.
Sometimes her thought escaped upon the cloud which a
swift breeze drove northward through the sky ; then sud¬
denly she would turn away her head and cover her eyes,
as if she dreaded to see a gigantic brigand appear and
begin the unequal contest upon one of the distant moun¬
tains whose blue peaks hung on the horizon like a station¬
ary cloud.
Oh, it is cruel to live when we are parted from the ob¬
ject of our love ! Few hearts have known this pang in
all its extent, because few hearts have known love in all
its depth. Then in some sort a stranger to our ordinary
existence, we create for ourselves a melancholy waste, a
vast solitude, and for the absent one some terrible world
of peril, of monsters, and of deceit; the various faculties,
which make up our being are changed into and lost in an
infinite longing for the missing one; everything about us
seems utterly indifferent to us. And yet we still breathe,
and move, and act, but without our own volition. Like a
wandering planet which has lost its sun, the body moves
at random; the soul is elsewhere.
CHAPTER XVIII.
On a vast buckler those relentless men
Terrified hell with fearful oaths;
And beside a black bull which they had slain.
All, bathing their hands in blood, swore to be revenged.
The Seven Chiefs before Thebes.
The coast of Norway abounds in narrow bays, in creeks,
coves, reefs, lagoons, and little headlands so numerous as
to weary the traveler's memory and the topographer's pa¬
tience. Formerly, if we are to credit popular tradition,
every isthmus was haunted by some demon, each bay in¬
habited by some fairy, each promontory protected by some
saint; superstition mingles all beliefs to create for itself
imaginary terrors. Upon Kelvel strand, some miles to
the north of Walderhog cave, there was but a single spot,
they said, which was free from all jurisdiction either of
HANS OF ICELAND.
123
infernal, intermediary, or celestial spirits. It was the
glade lying along the shore, overhung by a cliff, on the
top of which could still be seen vestiges of the manor of
Ralph, or Rudolf, the Giant. This little wild meadow,
bordered on the west by the sea, and closely shut in by
rocks clad with heather, owed its exemption solely to the
name of that ancient NorAvegian lord, its first possessor.
For what fairy, what devil, or what angel would venture
to become master or guest of a domain once occupied and
guarded by Ralph the Giant?
It is true that the mere name of the much dreaded
Ralph sufficed to give an alarming character to a region
wild in itself. But after all, a memory is not so much to
be feared as a spirit; and no fisher, belated in rough
weather, and mooring his bark in Ralph's creek, had ever
seen the will-o'-the-Avisp sport and dance upon the sum¬
mit of a rock, or a fairy ride through the heather in her
phosphorescent car drawn by glow-Avorms, or a saint as¬
cend toward the moon, after his prayers were said.
And yet, if the angry waves and wind had allowed a
wandering mariner to land in that hospitable harbor upon
the night after the great storm, he might have been struck
with superstitious fear at the sight of three men, who
upon that same night sat around a huge fire, blazing in
the middle of the meadow. Two of them wore the broad
felt hat and loose trousers of royal miners. Their arms
were bare to the shoulder, their feet were cased in fawn-
colored leather boots; a red sash held their crooked swords
and heavy pistols ; each had a hunter's horn slung about
his neck. One was old, the other was young; the old man's
thick beard and the young man's long hair lent a wild and
barbarous look to their faces, which Avere naturally hard
and stern.
By his bearskin cap, his tanned leather jacket, the mus¬
ket slung across his back, his short, tight-fitting draAvers,
his bare knees, his bark shoes, and the glittering ax in
his hand, it was easy to guess that the companion of the
tAvo miners Avasa mountaineer from the north of Norway.
Certainly, any one Avho saAv from afar these three weird
figures, upon which the flames, fanned by the salt breeze,
cast a red, flickering* light, might Avell have been fright¬
ened, even had he no faith in specters and demons ; it
134
HANS OF ICELAND.
would have been enough that he believed in thieves and
was somewhat richer than the ordinary poet.
The three men constantly turned their heads toward
the winding path through the wood which fringes Ralph's
meadow, and judging by such of their words as were not
carried off by the wind, they were expecting a fourth
person.
" I say, Kennybol, do you know that we should not be
allowed to wait so peacefully for this envoy from Count
Griffenfeld, if we were in the neighboring meadow. Goblin
Tulbytilbet's meadow, or yonder in St. Cuthbert's bay ? "
" Don't talk so loud, Jonas," replied the mountaineer;
" blessed be Ralph the Giant, who protects us ! Heaven
save me from setting foot in Tulbytilbet's meadow ! The
other day I thought I was picking hawthorn there, and I
gathered mandrake instead, which began to bleed and
shriek, and nearly drove me mad."
The young mmer laughed.
" Nearly, Kennybol ? For my part, I think that the
mandrake's shriek produced its full effect upon your feeble
brains."
" Feeble brains yourself I " said the vexed mountaineer;
" just see, Jonas, he jests at mandrake. He laughs like a
lunatic playing with a death's-head."
" Hum !" answered Jonas. " Let him go to "Walderhog
cave, where the heads of those whom Hans, the foul fiend
of Iceland, has murdered, come back every night to dance
about his bed of withered leaves, and gnash their teeth
to lull him to sleep."
" That's so," said the mountaineer.
" But," rejoined the young man, " did not Mr. Hacket,
for whom we are waiting, promise us that Hans of Iceland
would take the lead in our rebellion ? "
" He did," replied Kennybol; " and with the help of
that demon we are sure to conquer the green jackets of
Throndhjem and Copenhagen."
" So much the better ! " cried the old miner. " But
I'm not the man to stand guard beside him at night."
At this moment the rustle of dead leaves beneath the
tread of a man drew the attention of the speakers ; they
turned, and the firelight gleamed on the newcomer's face.
" It is he! it is Mr. Hacket! Welcome, Mr. Hacket;
nAxs OF iCELAyn.
you have kept us waiting. We have been here this three
quarters of an hour."
" Mr. Hacket" was a short, fat man, dressed in black,
and his jovial countenance wore a forbidding expression.
" Well, friends," said he," I was delayed by my igno¬
rance of the road and the necessary precautions. I left
Count Schumacker this morning ; here are three purses
of gold which he bade me give you."
The two old men flung themselves upon the gold with
the eagerness common among the peasants of barren Nor¬
way. The young miner declined the purse which Hacket
offered him.
" Keep your gold, Sir Envoy ; I should lie if I said that
I had joined the revolt for your Count Schumacher's sake.
I rebel to free the miners from the guardianship of the
crown ; I rebel that my mother's bed may have a blanket
less ragged than the coast of our good country, Norway."
Far from seeming disconcerted, Mr. Hacket answered
smilingly, " Then I will send this money to your poor
mother, my dear Norbith, so that she may have two new
blankets to shield her from the cold wind this winter."
The young man assented with a nod, and the envoy,
like a skilful orator, made haste to add :—
" But be careful not to repeat what you just now incon¬
siderately said, that you are not taking up arms in behalf
of Schumacker, Count Griffenfeld."
" But—but," muttered the two old men, « we know
very well that the miners are oppressed, but we know
nothing about this count, this prisoner of state."
" What 1 " sharply rejoined the envoy ; " are you so un¬
grateful? You groan in your subterranean caves, de¬
prived of light and air, robbed of all your property, slaves to
the most onerous tutelage ! Who came to your rescue ?
Who revived your failing courage ? Who gave you gold
and arms ? Was it not my illustrious master, noble Count
Griffenfeld, more of a slave and more unfortunate even
than you ? And now, loaded with his favors, would you
refuse to use them to acquire his liberty with your own ? "
" You are right," interrupted the young miner ; " that
would be an ill deed."
" Yes, Mr. Hacket," said the two old men, « we will
fight for Count Schumacker."
HANS OF ICELAND.
" Courage, my friends ! Rise in his name ; bear your
benefactor's name from one end of Norway to the other.
Only listen; everything seconds your righteous enterprise;
you are about to be freed from a formidable enemy.
General Levin de Knud, governor of the province. The
secret power of my noble master, Count Grrffenfeld, will
soon procure his recall to Bergen. Come, tell me, Ken-
nybol, Jonas, and you, my dear Norbith, are all your
comrades ready ? "
"My brethren of Guldbrandsdal," said Norbith, "only
await my signal. To-morrow, if you wish—"
" To-morrow ; so be it. The young miners under your
leadership must be the first to raise the standard. And
you, my brave Jonas ? "
" Six hundred heroes from the Faroe Islands, who for
three days have lived on chamois fiesh and bear's fat in
Bennallag forest, only ask a blast from the horn of their
old captain, Jonas of Loevig town."
" Good ! And you, Kennybol ?"
" All those who carry an ax in the gorges of Kiolen,
and climb the rocks with bare knees, are ready to join
their brothers, the miners, when they need them."
" Enough. Tell your comrades that they need not
doubt their victory," added the envoy, raising his voice;
" for Hans of Iceland will be their captain."
" Is that certain ? " asked all three at once, in a voice of
mingled hope and fear.
The envoy answered: " I vrill meet you four days hence,
at the same hour, with your united forces, in Apsyl-Corh
mine, near Lake Miosen, on Blue Star plain. Hans of
Iceland will be with me."
"We will be there," said the three leaders. " And may
God not desert those whom the Devil aids!"
"Fear nothing from God," said Hacket, with a sneer.
" Stay; you will find fiags for your troops among the
ruins of Crag. Do not forget the war-cry, 'Long live
Schumacker! We will rescue Schumacker!' Now we
must part; day will shortly break. But first, swear the
most profound secrecy as to what has passed between
us."
Without a word each of the three chiefs opened a vein
in his left arm with the point of his sword; then, seizing
HANS OF ICELAND.
127
the envoy's hand, each let a few drops of blood trickle
into it.
"You have our blood," they said.
Then the young man exclaimed: " May all my blood
flow forth like that which I now shed; may a malicious
spirit destroy my plans, as the hurricane does a straw;
may my arm be of lead to avenge an insult; may bats
dwell in my tomb; may I, still living, be haunted by the
dead, and dead, be profaned by the living; may my eyes
melt with tears like those of a woman, if ever I speak of
what has occurred at this time in Ralph the Giant's
meadow. And may the blessed saints deign to hear this,
my prayer!"
" Amen!" repeated the two old men.
Then they parted, and nothing was left in the meadow
but the smoldering fire whose expiring embers burned
up at intervals, and gleamed upon the summit of Ralph
the Giant's ruined and deserted towers.
CHAPTER XIX.
Theodore. Tristam, let us be gone.
Tristam. This is a strange disgrace.
Theodore. Did any one see us ?
Tristam. I know not, but I fear they did.
Lope da Vega : The Gardener's Dog.
Benigntjs Spiagudet found it hard to guess the mo¬
tives which led a youth of fine appearance, and apparently
likely to live for many long years, to become the volun¬
tary antagonist of the much-dreaded Hans of Iceland.
He had frequently and with much ingenuity broached the
question since they started on their travels; but the
young adventurer preserved a stubborn silence as to the
cause of his journey. Nor was the poor fellow any more
successful in satisfying his curiosity concerning various
other details as to his strange comrade. Once he ven¬
tured to ask a question about his young master's family
and his name. " Call me Ordener," was the reply; and
this very unsatisfactory answer was given in a tone which
forbade further question. He was forced to submit;
HAXf^ OF ICELAND.
every one has his secrets, and good Spiagudry himself
carefully concealed in his wallet, under his cloak, a certain
mysterious casket, any inquiry as to which he would cer¬
tainly have considered very disagreeable and greatly out
of place.
Four days had passed since they left Throndhjem, but
they had made little progress, owing to the bad state of
the roads after the storm, and the multiplicity of cross¬
cuts and roundabout routes which the runaway keeper
thought it prudent to take in order to avoid too thickly
settled regions. Leaving Skongen on their right, toward
evening of the fourth day they reached the shores of Lake
Spar bo.
The vast stretch of water reflecting the last gleams of
daylight and the first stars of coming night set in a frame
of tall cliffs, black firs, and lofty oaks, presented a gloomy
but magnificent picture. The sight of a lake at evening
sometimes produces, at a certain distance, a peculiar opti¬
cal illusion; it seems as if a vast abyss, cleaving the earth
from side to side, revealed the heavens beneath our feet.
Ordener paused to contemplate the old Druidical forests,
which cover the steep shores of the lake as with a gar¬
ment, and the chalky huts of Sparbo, scattered over the
slope like a stray fiock of white goats. He listened to the
distant clink of the forges,* mingled with the dull roar
of the weird forests, the intermittent cry of wild birds,
and the solemn music of the waves. To the north a huge
granite bowlder, still gilded by the rays of the sun, rose
majestically above the little village of Oelmoe, its summit
bending beneath a mass of ruined towers, as if the giant
were weary of his load.
When the soul is sad, it delights in melancholy scenes;
it adds to them its own gloom. Let an unhappy man be
thrown among wild, high mountains beside some black
lake in the heart of a dark forest, at the close of day, and
he will see this solemn scene through a funereal veil; he
will not feel that the sun is setting, but that it is dying.
Ordener lingered, motionless and mute, until his com¬
panion exclaimed: " Capital, sir! You do well to ponder
thus beside the most miasma-laden lake in Norway."
* The waters of Lake Sparbo are greatly used for tempering steel.
EAN/^ OF ICELAXn.
m
This remark and the gesture which accompanied it,
would have brought a smile to the lips of any but a lover
parted from his mistress perhaps never again to meet her.
The learned keeper added :—
" And yet I must rouse you from your meditations to
remind you that day is drawing to a close, and we must
make haste if we would reach Oelmoe village before twi¬
light overtakes us."
The observation was correct. Ordener resumed his
journey, and Spiagudry followed him, continuing his un¬
heeded reflections upon the botanic and physiologic phe¬
nomena which Lake Sparbo affords the naturalist.
" Mr. Ordener," said he, " if you will listen to your de¬
voted guide, you will give up your fatal enterprise; yes,
sir, and you will take up your abode upon the shores of
this most curious lake, where we can devote ourselves to
all sorts of learned research ; for instance, to the study
of the Stella canora paliistris,—a singular plant, which
many scholars consider to be fabulous, but which Bishop
Arngrimmsson asserts that he both saw and heard on the
shores of Lake Sparbo. Added to this, we shall have the
satisfaction of feeling that we dwell upon soil which con¬
tains more gypsum than any other in Europe, and where
the hired assassins of Throndhjem are least likely to flnd
their way. Doesn't it attract you, young master ?
Come, renounce your senseless journey ; for, not to offend
you, your scheme is dangerous, without being profitable,
—pericidum sine pecunia ; that is to say, senseless, and
conceived at a moment when you might better have been
thinking of other things."
Ordener, who paid no attention to the poor man's
words, merely kept up the conversation by those oc¬
casional meaningless monosyllables which great talkers
are ready to accept in lieu of answers. Thus they reached
Oelmoe village, where they found an unusual bustle and
stir.
The inhabitants—hunters, fishers, and blacksmiths—
had left their houses, and hastily collected about a central
mound occupied by a group of men, one of whom blew a
horn and waved a small black-and-white banner over his
head. •
" Probably some quack doctor," said Spiagudry,—« am-
9
130
IIAys OF ICELAND.
bubaiarum collegia pharmacopolce / some scamp who
turns gold into lead and wounds into sores. Let us see.
What invention of the Evil One will he sell these poor
rustics ? It would be bad enough if these impostors con¬
fined themselves to kings, if they all imitated Borch the
Dane and Borri of Milan, those alchemists who so com¬
pletely duped our Frederic III. ; * but they are just as
greedy for the peasant's mite as for the prince's million."
Spiagudry was mistaken. As they approached the
mound they recognized by his black gown and round,
pointed cap, the mayor, surrounded by a number of bow¬
men. The man blowing the horn was the town crier.
The fugitive keeper, somewhat disturbed, muttered:
" Truly, Mr. Ordener, I did not expect to stumble upon
the mayor when I came into this hamlet. Great Saint
Hospitius, protect us ! What does he say ? "
His uncertainty was of brief duration, for the crier's
shrill voice was quickly raised, and religiously heeded by
the little group of villagers.
" In the name of his Majesty and by order of his Excel¬
lency, General Levin de Knud, governor, the lord mayor
of Throndhjem notifies the inhabitants of all cities, towns,
and villages in the province, tliat a reward of one thou¬
sand crowns is offered for the head of Hans, a native of
Klipstadur, in Iceland, a murderer and incendiary."
A vague murmur ran through the crowd. The crier
continued:—
" A reward of four crowns is offered for the head of
Benignus Spiagudry, ex-keeper of the Spladgest at
Throndhjem, accused of necromancy and sacrilege. This
proclamation shall be published throughout the province
by the mayors of all cities, towns, and villages, who will
see that it is carried out."
The mayor took the proclamation from the crier's
hands, and added in a lugubrious and solemn voice :—
* Frederic III. was the victim of Borch, or Borrich, a Danish
chemist, and more especially of Borri, a Milanese quack, who de¬
clared himself to be the favorite of the Archangel Michael. This
impostor, after startling Strashurg and Amsterdam with his pre¬
tended miracles, increased the sphere of his ambition and the
boldness of his lies ; having deceived the people, he ventured to
deceive kings. He began with Queen Christina at Hamburg, and
ended with King Frederic at Copenhagen.
EA^S OF ICELAND.
131
" The life of these men is offered to whosoever will
take it."
The reader will readily believe that this reading was
not heard unmoved by our poor, unfortunate Spiagudry.
No doubt, the unusual signs of terror which he showed
would have roused the attention of the bystanders, had it
not just then been wholly absorbed by the first clause of
the proclamation.
" A reward for the head of Hans!" cried an old fisher¬
man, who had hastened to the spot, trailing his wet nets
behind him. « They might as well, by Saint TJsuph, set
a price upon the head of Beelzebub ! "
" To keep up a proper balance between Hans and Beel¬
zebub," said a hunter, recognizable by his chamois-skin
jerkin, «they should only offer fifteen hundred crowns
for the head and horns of the latter fiend."
" Glory be to the holy mother of God!" cried an old
woman, her bald- head shaking as she twirled her distaff.
" I only wish I might see the head of that Hans, so that I
might make sure if his eyes are really live coals, as they
say."
"Yes, to be sure," replied another old woman; " it was
just by looking at it that he set Throndhjem cathedral
on fire. Now I should like to see the monster whole,
with his serpent's tail, cloven foot and broad wings like a
bat."
" Who told you such nonsense, good mother ? " broke in
the hunter, with a self-satisfied air. " I've seen this Hans
of Iceland with my own eyes in the gorges of Medsyhath;
he is a man like ourselves, only he is as tall as a forty-
year-old poplar."
" Indeed! " said a voice from the crowd, with singular
emphasis.
This voice, which made Spiagudry shudder, proceeded
from a short man whose face was hidden by the broad felt
hat of a miner, his body wrapped in rush matting and
sealskin.
" Faith!" cried, with a coarse laugh, a smith who wore
his heavy hammer slung across his shoulder, " they may
offer one thousand or ten thousand crowns for his head,
and he may be four or fcrty feet tall, but I'll not otter to
go in search of him."
133
HANS OF ICELAND.
" Nor I," said the fisherman.
" Nor I; nor I," repeated every voice.
" And yet any one who may feel tempted," rejoined the
little man, " will find Hans of Iceland to-morrow at the
ruins of Arbar, near Lake Miosen ; the day after that at
Walderhog cave."
" Are you sure, my good man ? "
This question was asked at one and the same time by
Ordener, who listened to this scene with an interest easily
understood by any one but Spiagudry, and by another
short and tolerably stout man, dressed in black, with a
merry countenance, who had issued from the only inn
which the village contained, at the first sound of the crier's
horn.
The little man with the broad-brimmed hat seemed to
be studying them both for a moment, and then answered
in hollow tones : "Yes."
" And how can you be so certain ? " asked Ordener.
" I know where Hans of Iceland is, just as well as I
know where Benignus Spiagudry is; neither of them is
far off at this instant."
All the poor keeper's terrors were revived, and he
scarcely dared look at the mysterious little man. Fancy¬
ing that his French periwig had failed to disguise him,
he began to pluck at Ordener's cloak and to whisper:
" Master, sir, in Heaven's name, have mercy! have pity !
let us be off! let us leave this accursed suburb of
hell!"
Ordener, although equally surprised, carefully examined
the little man, who, turning his back to the light, seemed
anxious to conceal his face.
" I've seen that Benignus Spiagudry," cried the fisher¬
man, "at Throndhjem Spladgest. He's a tall fellow.
They offer four crowns for him."
The hunter burst out laughing.
" Four crowns ! I sha'n't go a-hunting for him. I can
get more for the skin of a blue fox."
This comparison, which at any other time would have
greatly offended the learned keeper, now comforted him.
Still, he was about to address another prayer to Ordener
to persuade him to continue his journey, when the latter,
having learned all that he wished to know forestalled him
HANS OF ICELAND.
133
by making his way out of the crowd, which was beginning
to disperse.
Although when thej' entered Oelmoe village they had
intended passing the night there, they quitted it, as if by
common consent, without even alluding to the motive for
their abrupt departure. Ordener was moved by the hope
of a more speedy meeting with the brigand, Spiagudry
by a desire to get away from the archers as speedily as
might be.
Ordener was in too serious a mood to laugh at his com¬
rade's misadventures. He broke the silence in kindly
tones.
" Old man, what is the name of the ruin where Hans
is to be found to-morrow, according to that little man who
seemed to know everything ? "
" I don't know; I didn't quite catch the name, noble
master," replied Spiagudry, who uttered no falsehood in
so saying.
" Then," continued the young man, " I must make up
my mind not to meet him until the day after to-morrow
at Walderhog cave."
" Walderhog cave, sir! Indeed, that is Hans of Ice¬
land's favorite haunt."
" Let us take that road," said Ordener.
"We must turn to the left,behind Oelmce cliff. It will
take us at least two days to get to Walderhog cave."
" Do you know, old man," cautiously observed Ordener,
" who that odd fellow was, who seemed to be so well ac¬
quainted with you ? "
This question again awakened Spiagudry's fears, which
had been lulled to sleep as the village of Oelmoe faded
in the distance.
" No, truly, sir," he answered, in trembling accents.
" But he had a very strange voice."
Ordener tried to encourage him.
" Fear nothing, old man; serve me well, and I will pro¬
tect you. If I return victorious over Hans, I promise you
not only a pardon, but I will also give you the thousand
crowns reward offered by the officers of the law."
Honest Benignus dearly loved his life, but he also loved
gold. Ordener's promises sounded like magic in his
ears; they not only banished all his terrors, but they ex-
134
HANS OF ICELAND.
cited in him a kind of garrulous mirth, which found vent
in lengthy discourses, queer gestures, and learned quota¬
tions.
" Mr. Ordener," said he, " if I should ever have occasion
to discuss the subject with Over-Bilseuth, otherwise called
' the Babbler,' nothing shall prevent me from maintaining
that you are a wise and honorable young man. What
more worthy and more glorious, in fact, quid cithara, tuba,
vel campana dignius, than nobly to risk your life to free
your country from a monster, a brigand, a demon, in whom
all demons, brigands, and monsters seem to be combined ?
Nobody need tell me that you are moved by mercenary
motives. Noble Lord Ordener yields the price of his con¬
flict to the companion of his journey, to the old man who
only guided him within a mile of Walderhog cave; for I
am sure, young master, that you will allow me to await
the result of your illustrious enterprise at the village of
Surb, situated in the forest within a mile of Walderhog,
will you not ? And when your glorious victory is made
known, sir, all Norway will thrill with joy like that of
Vermund the Refugee, when from the summitof this same
Oelmoe cliff, which we just now passed, he saw the great
fire kindled by his brother Halfdan on Munkholm tower
in token of his deliverance."
At these words Ordener interrupted him eagerly.
«What! is Munkholm tower visible from the top of
this rock ? "
"Yes, sir; twelve miles to the south, between the
mountains which our fathers called Frigga's Footstools.
At this hour you should be able to see the light in the
tower distinctly."
" Indeed!" exclaimed Ordener, fired by the idea of an¬
other glimpse of the seat of all his happiness. " Old man,
of course there is a path leading to the top of the rock, is
there not ? "
" Yes, to be sure; a path which begins in the wood that
lies just before us, and rises by a gentle slope to the bare
crown of the cliff, whence it is continued by steps cut in
the rock by Vermund's companions, as far as the castle,
where it ends. Those are the ruins which you see in the
moonlight."
"Well, old man, you shall show me the path; we wiU
HANS OF ICELAND.
135
spend the night in those ruins,—in those ruins from
which Munkholm tower is visible."
" Can you really mean it, sir ? " asked Benignus. " The
fatigues of the day—"
" Old man, I will support your steps; my footing was
never more secure."
" Sir, the brambles that block the path, which has long
been deserted, the fallen stones, the darkness—"
" I will take the lead."
" There may be some savage beast, some unclean animal,
some hideous monster—"
" I did not undertake this journey to avoid monsters."
The idea of halting so near Oelmoe was very unpleasant
to Spiagudry; the thought of seeing Munkholm light, and
possibly the light in Ethel's window, enraptured and
transported Ordener.
"Young master," urged Spiagudry, "give up this
scheme; take my advice. I have a presentiment that it
will bring us bad luck."
This plea was as nothing in the face of Ordener's
longing.
" Come," said he, impatiently, " you must remember
that you agreed to serve me faithfully. I insist upon
your showing me the path; where is it ? "
"We shall come across it directly," said the keeper,
forced to obey.
In fact, they soon saw the path. They entered it; but
Spiagudry observed, with surprise mixed with fright,
that the tall grass was broken and trampled, and that
Vermund the Refugee's old footpath seemed to have been
recently trodden.
CHAPTER XX.
Leonardo. The king requires your presence.
Henrique. How so ?
Lope da Vega : La Fuerza Lastinosa.
General Levix de Knud sat at his desk, which was
covered with papers ajid open letters, apparently lost in
thought. A secretary stood before him awaiting his
136
HANS OF ICELAND.
orders. The general now struck the rich carpet beneath
his feet with his spurs, and now absently toyed with the
decoration of the Elephant, hanging about his neck from
the collar of the order. Occasionally he opened his lips
as if to speak, then stopped, rubbed his head, and cast
another glance at the unsealed despatches littering the
table.
" How the devil!" he cried at last.
This conclusive exclamation was followed by a brief
silence.
" Who would ever have imagined," he resumed, " that
those devilish miners would have gone so far ? Of course
they were secretly egged on to this revolt; but do you
know, Wapherney, the thing looks serious? Do you
know that five or six hundred scoundrels from the Faroe
Islands, headed by a certain old thief named Jonas, have
already quitted the mines; that a young fanatic called
Norbith has also taken command of the Guldbrandsdal
malcontents; that all the hot-heads in Sund-Moer, Hub-
fallo, and Kongsberg, who were only waiting the signal,
may have risen already ? Do you know that the moun¬
taineers have joined the movement, and that they are
headed by one of the boldest foxes of Kiblen, old Kenny-
bol ? And finally, do you know that according to pop¬
ular report in northern Throndhjem, if we are to believe the
lord mayor, who has written me, that notorious criminal,
upon whose head we have set a price, the much-dreaded
Hans, has taken chief command of the insurrection?
What do you say to all this, my dear Wapherney?
Ahem!"
"Your Excellency," said Wapherney, "knows what
measures—"
"There is still another circumstance connected with
this lamentable aft'air which I cannot explain; that is,
how our prisoner Schumacher can be the author of the
revolt, as they claim. This seems to surprise no one, but
it surprises me more than anything else. It is hard to
believe that a man whose company my faithful Ordener
loves ean be a traitor; and yet it is asserted that the
miners have risen in his name,—his name is their watch¬
word. They even give hini'the titles of which the king
deprived him. All this seems certain; but how does it
HANS OF ICELAND.
137
happen that Countess d'Ahlefeld knew all these details
a week ago, at a time when the first real symptoms of
trouble had scarcely begun to appear in the mines ? It is
strange! No matter, I must provide for every emergency.
Give me my seal, Wapherney."
The general wrote three letters, sealed them, and handed
them to his secretary.
" See that this message is sent to Baron Vcethattn,
colonel of musketeers, now garrisoned at Munkholm, so
that his regiment may march at once to the seat of the
revolt; this to the officer in command at Munkholm, an
order to guard the ex-chancellor more closely than ever.
I must see and question this Schumacker myself. Then
despatch this letter to Skongen, to Major Wolhm, who
is in command there, directing him to send forward a
portion of the garrison to the center of rebellion. Go,
Wapherney, and see that these orders are executed at
once."
The secretary went out, leaving the governor plunged
in meditation.
" All this is very alarming," thought he. " These
miners rebelling in one place, this chancellor intriguing in
another, that crazy Ordener—nobody knows where ! He
may be traveling in the very midst of all these rioters,
leaving Schumacker here under my protection to con¬
spire against the State, and his daughter, for whose safety
I have been kind enough to remove the company of sol¬
diers to which that Frederic d'Ahlefeld belongs, whom
Ordener accuses of— Why, it seems to me that this very
company might easily stop the advance columns of the in¬
surgents ; it is very well situated for that. Wahlstrom,
where it is stationed, is near Lake Miosen and Arbar
ruin. That is one of the places of which the rebels will
be sure to take possession."
At this point in his revery, the general was interrupted
by the sound of the opening door.
"Well, what do you want, Gustavus?"
"General, a messenger asks to speak for a moment
with your Excellency."
"Well, what is it now? What fresh disaster! Let
the messenger come in.'*
The messenger entered, and handed a packet to the
138
HANS OF ICELAND.
governor, saying, " From his highness the viceroy, your
Excellency."
The general hurriedly tore open the despatch.
" By Saint George ! " he cried, with a start of surprise,
" I believe that they have all gone mad ! If here is not the
viceroy requesting me to proceed to Bergen. He says it
is on urgent business, by order of the king. A fine time
this to transact urgent business! ' The lord chancellor
now traveling in the province of Throndlajem, will take
your place during your absence.' Here's a substitute in
whom I have no confidence! ' The bishop will assist
him—' Really, these are excellent governors that Fred¬
eric chooses for a country in a state of revolt,—two gentle¬
men of the cloth, a chancellor, and a bishop ! Well, no
matter, the invitation is express ; it is the order of the
king. Needs must obey ; but before I go I must see Schu-
macker and question him. I am sure that there is a plot
to involve me in a network of intrigue ; but I have one
unerring compass,—my conscience."
CHAPTER XXI.
The voice of thy slain brother's blood cries out,
Even from the ground, unto the Lord !
Cain ; A Mystery.
"Yes, Count; it was this very day, in Arbar ruin,
that we were told he might be found. Countless circum¬
stances lead me to believe in the truth of this valuable
information which I accidentally picked up yesterday, as I
told you, at Oelmce village."
« Are we far from this Arbar ruin ? "
"It is close by Lake Miosen. The guide assures me
that we shall be there before noon."
These words were spoken by two horsemen muffled in
brown cloaks, who early one morning were pursuing one
of the many narrow, winding paths which run in every
direction through the forest lying between Lakes Midsen
and Sparbo. A mountain guide, provided with a hunting-
horn and an ax, led the way upon his little gray pony,
and behind the travelers rode four men armed to the
HANS OF ICELAND.
139
teeth, toward whom these two persons occasionally turned,
as if afraid of being overheard.
" If that Iceland thief is really lurking in Arbar ruin,"
said one rider, whose steed kept a respectful distance
behind the other, "it is a great point gained; for
the difficulty hitherto has been to find this mysterious
being."
" Do you think so, Musdoemon ? And suppose he de¬
clines our offers ? "
" Impossible, your Grace ! What brigand could resist
gold and a free pardon ? "
" But you know that this is no common scoundrel.
Do not judge him by yourself. If he should refuse, how
can you keep your promise of night before last to the
three leaders of the insurrection ? "
"Well, noble Count, in that case, which I regard as
impossible if we are lucky enough to find our man, has
your Grace forgotten that a false Hans of Iceland
awaits me two days hence at the hour and place appointed
for meeting the three chiefs, at Blue Star, a place, more¬
over, conveniently near Arbar ruin ? "
"You are right, my dear Musdoemon, as usual," said
the count; and each resumed his own particular line of
thought.
Musdoemon, whose interest it was to keep his master
in good humor, for the purpose of diverting him, asked
the guide a question.
" My good man, what is that ruined stone cross yonder,
behind those young oaks ? "
The guide, a man with fixed stare and stupid mien,
turned his head and shook it several times, as he said:
"Oh, master, that is the oldest gallows in Norway; holy
king Olaf had it built for a judge who made a compact
with a robber."
Musdoemon saw by his patron's face that the guide's
artless words had produced an effect quite contrary to
that which he hoped.
" It is a curious story," the guide added ; " good Mother
Osia told it to me. The robber was ordered to hang the
judge."
The poor guide, in Jiis simplicity, did not suppose that
the incident with which he meant to entertain his
140
HANS OF ICELAND.
employers was almost an insult to them. Musdoemon
stopped him.
" That will do," said he; " we have heard the story be¬
fore."
" Insolent fellow!" muttered the count, « he has heard
the story before. Ah, Musdoemon, you shall pay for your
impudence yet."
" Did your Grace speak to me ? " obsequiously asked
Musdoemon.
" I was thinking how I could obtain the Order of the
Dannebrog for you. The marriage of my daughter
Ulrica and Baron Ordener would be an excellent op¬
portunity."
Musdoemon was profuse in protestations and thanks.
" By the way," added his Grace, " let us talk business.
Do you suppose that the temporary recall which we sent
him has reached the Mecklenburger ? "
The reader may remember that the count was in the
habit of thus designating General Levin de Knud, who
was indeed a native of Mecklenburg.
" Let us talk business! " thought the injured Mus¬
doemon; "it seems that my affairs are not 'business.'
Count," he replied aloud, " I think that the viceroy's mes¬
senger must be in Throndhjem by this time, and there¬
fore General Levin must be getting ready to start."
The count assumed a kindly tone.
" That recall, my dear fellow, was one of your master¬
strokes,—one of your best planned and most skilfully ex¬
ecuted intrigues."
" The credit belongs as much to your Grace as to me,"
replied Musdoemon, careful, as we have already remarked,
to mix the count in all his machinations.
The master understood this secret desire of his confi¬
dant, but chose to seem unconscious of it.
He smiled.
«My dear private secretary, you are always modest;
but nothing can make me depreciate your most eminent
services. Elphega's presence and the Mecklenburger's
absence assure my triumph in Throndhjem. I am now at
the head of the province; and if Hans of Iceland accepts
the command of the rebels, which I intend to offer him
in person, to me will fall, in the eyes of the king, the
BANS OF ICELAND.
141
glory of putting down this distressing insurrection and
capturing this terrible brigand."
They were chatting thus in low voices when the guide
rode back to them.
" Masters," said he, " here on our left is the hillock
upon which Biorn the Just had the double-tongued
Vellon beheaded in the presence of his entire army, the
traitor having driven off the king's allies and summoned
the enemy to the camp, that he might have the appearance
of saving Biorn's life."
All these reminiscences of old Norway did not seem to
be to Musdoemon's taste, for he hurriedly interrupted the
guide.
" Come, come, good man, be silent and go your way,
without turning back so often. What do we care about
the foolish stories of which these ruins and dead trees
remind you? You annoy my master with your old
wives' tales."
CHAPTER XXII.
Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon ;
While the heavy plowman snores,
All with weary task foredone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in wo
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night.
That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the churchway paths to glide.
Shakespeare : Midsummer Night's Dream.
Let us now retrace our steps. We left Ordener and
Spiagudry struggling laboriously up the brow of Oelmce
cliff by the light of the rising moon. This rock, bare of
vegetation at the point where it begins to curve, is from
this peculiarity, called by the Norwegian peasants
the Vulture's Neck,—a name which gives an excellent
idea of the aspect of this huge granite bowlder as seen
from a distance. *
142
HANS OF ICELAND.
As our travelers approached this part of the rock, the
forest changed to heather. Grass gave place to moss;
wild brier-roses, broom, and holly were substituted for
oaks and beaches,—a scantier growth, which in moun¬
tainous regions always shows that the summit is near,
as it indicates the gradual diminution of the stratum of
earth covering what may be termed the skeleton of the
mountain.
" Mr. Ordener," said Spiagudry, whose lively mind
seemed ever a prey to a varying world of ideas, " this is a
very tiresome climb, and it takes all my devotion to fol¬
low you. But it seems to me that I see a superb convol¬
vulus yonder to the right; how I should like to examine
it. Why is it not broad daylight ? Don't you think it
was a great piece of impertinence to value a learned man
like me at no more than four paltry crowns ? 'Tis true,
the famous Phsedrus was a slave, and iEsop, if we are to
believe the learned Planudes, was sold at a fair like a
beast of burden or household chattel. And who would
not be proud to bear any sort of resemblance to the great
^sop?"
" Or to the celebrated Hans ? " added Ordener, with a
smile.
" By Saint Hospitius," replied the keeper, " do not utter
that name so lightly; I swear I (iould readily forego the
latter comparison. But wouldn't it be strange if Benig-
nus Spiagudry, his companion in misfortune, should win
the reward for his head ? Mr. Ordener, you are more
generous than Jason, for he did not give the golden fleece
to the Argonaut pilot; and I am sure that your mission,
although I do not clearly understand its object, is no less
perilous than that of Jason."
"Well," said Ordener, «since you know Hans of Ice¬
land, tell me something about him. You say that he is
by no means a giant, as is generally supposed."
Spiagudry interrupted him: " Stop, master! Don't you
hear footsteps behind us ? "
"Yes," quietly answered the young man; "don't be
alarmed; it is some animal frightened at our coming, and
brushing against the bushes in its flight."
"You are right, my young Caesar; it is so long since
these woods have seen the face of man! If we may judge
HANS OF ICELAND.
143
by its heavy tread, it must be a good-sized animal. It
may be an elk or a reindeer; this part of Norway abounds
in these beasts. Wildcats are also found here ; I saw one
myself, which was brought to Copenhagen; he was mon¬
strous big. I must give you a description of this ferocious
animal."
" My dear guide," said Ordener, " I would rather that
you would give me a description of another and no less
ferocious monster, the horrible Hans."
" Speak lower, sir ! How calmly you utter that name!
You do not know—Good Heavens, sir! just hear that! "
As Spiagudry said this, he drew closer to Ordener, who
did indeed distinctly hear a cry similar to the growl which,
as the reader maj' remember, had so alarmed the timid
keeper on the stormy night of their departure from
Throndhjem.
" Did you hear that ? " he whispered, breathless with
fright.
" To be sure I did," said Ordener; " but I don't see
why you tremble so violently. It is the howl of some wild
beast, possibly the cry of one of those very wildcats of
which you were just talking. Did you expect to pass
through such a place at this time of night without dis¬
turbing any of its inhabitants ? I'll warrant you, old
man, they are far more frightened than you are."
Spiagudry, seeing his young companion's composure,
was somewhat reassured.
" Well, it may be, sir, that you are right. But that yell
sounded terribly like a voice that I— It was a very
poor idea, let me tell you, sir, to insist upon climbing up
to this Vermund's castle. I fear we shall meet with some
accident on the Vulture's Neck."
" Fear nothing while you are with me," answered
Ordener.
" Oh, nothing disturbs you; but, sir, nobody but the
blessed Saint Paul can handle vipers without getting
bitten. You did not even notice, when we struck into
this confounded footpath, that it seemed to have been
recently trodden, and that the grass had not had time to
lift its head since it was trampled."
" I confess that I dtd not pay much heed to it, and that
my peace of mind is not dependent upon the state of a
144
HANS OF ICELAND.
few blades of grass. See, we are now out of the thicket;
we shall hear no more from the wild beasts; I need not
therefore tell you, my brave guide, to summon all your
courage, but rather bid you muster all your strength, for"
this path, cut in the rock, will doubtless be even steeper
than the one we have left."
" It is not that it is steeper, sir, but the learned trav¬
eler, Suckson, says that it is often impeded by rocks or
.heavy stones too big to be handled, over which it is not
easy to clamber. Among others, there is, just beyond the
Malaer postern, which must be close at hand, a huge
triangular granite bowlder, which I have always had the
greatest desire to see. Schoenning asserts that he dis¬
covered the three primitive Runic characters on it."
The travelers had for some time been climbing the face
of the rock; they now reached a small, ruined tower,
through which their path led, and to which Spiagudry
drew Ordener's attention.
" This is the Malaer postern, sir. This path hewn in
the living rock contains several curious structures, which
show the ancient style of fortification used in our Nor¬
wegian manor-houses. This postern, which was always
guarded by four men-at-arms, was the first outwork of
Vermund's fort. Speaking of posterns, the monk Urensius
makes an odd remark; he asks whether the word januay
derived from Janus, whose temple doors were so widely
celebrated, has any connection with ' Janissary,' a name
applied to the troops who guard the sultan's gate. It
would be strange enough if the name of the mildest prince
known to history should have passed to the most ferocious
soldiers upon earth."
In the midst of all the keeper's scientific twaddle, they
journeyed laboriously along, over loose stones and sharp
pebbles, mingled with the short, slippery grass which
sometimes grows upon rocks. Ordener beguiled his
weariness by thinking how delightful it would be to gaze
once more upon distant Munkholm; all at once Spiagudry
exclaimed: " Oh, I see it! This sight alone repays me
for all my trouble. I see it, sir, I see it!"
" See what ? " said Ordener, who was just then thinking
of Ethel.
" Why, sir, the three-sided pyramid described by Schoen-
HANS OF ICELAND.
tiing. I shall be the third scientific man, with Professor
Schoenning and Bishop Isleif, to have the pleasure of
studying it. Only it is a great pity that there is no
moon."
As they approached the famous bowlder, Spiagudry
uttered an exclamation of horror and distress. Ordener,
in surprise, asked with some interest the cause of this
new emotion; but the archaeologist was for a time unable
to reply.
"You thought," said Ordener, "that this rock blocked
the path; on the contrary, you should be grateful to find
that it leaves it entirely open."
" And that is the very thing which provokes me," said
Benignus, in piteous accents.
" What do you mean ? "
" Why, sir," replied the keeper, " do you not see that
the position of the pyramid has been changed; that the
base, which rested on the path, is now uppermost; and
that the bowlder stands upside down, upon the very side
on which Schoenning discovered the primordial Runic
letters ? I am indeed unfortunate! "
" It is a pity," said the young man.
"And besides," hastily added Spiagudry, "the over¬
turning of this mass of stone proves the presence of some
superhuman being. Unless it be the work of the Devil,
there is but one man in Norway whose arm could—"
" My poor guide, there you are, giving way again to your
foolish fears. Who knows but this stone has lain thus
for more than a hundred years ? "
" It is a hundred and fifty years, it is true," said Spia¬
gudry, more quietly, " since the last scientific man ob¬
served it. But it seems to me to have been moved recently;
the place which it formerly occupied is still damp. Look,
sir."
Ordener, impatient to reach the ruins, dragged his
guide away from the marvelous pyramid, and succeeded,
by gentle words, in removing the fresh fears with which
this strange displacement inspired the aged scholar.
" See here, old man, you can take up your abode on the
borders of this lake, and devote yourself to your impor¬
tant studies, when yo^ get the thousand crowns reward,
for Hans's head."
lO
ITANS OF ICELAND.
" You are right, noble sir; but do not speak so lightly
of so dubious a victory. I must give you one piece of
advice which may help you to overcome the monster."
Ordener drew eagerly toward Spiagudry. " Advice!
what is it ? "
" The robber," said the latter, in a low voice, casting
uneasy glances around him,—" the robber wears at his
belt a skull, from which he usually drinks. It is the skull
of his son, of the mutilation of whose corpse I am ac¬
cused."
" Speak a little louder, and don't be frightened ; I can
hardly hear you. Well, this skull ? "
" This skull," said Spiagudry, bending to whisper in the
young man's ear, " you must try to obtain. The monster
attaches a certain superstitious importance to its posses¬
sion. His son's skull once yours, you can do what you will
with him."
« That is all very well, my good fellow; but how am I
to get this skull ? "
" By some stratagem, sir. While the monster sleeps,
perhaps."
Ordener interrupted him: "Enough. Your good ad¬
vice is useless. I cannot be supposed to know when my
enemy is asleep. My sword is the only weapon which I
recognize."
" Sir, sir! it has never been proved that the archangel
Michael did not resort to stratagem to vanquish Satan."
Here Spiagudry stopped short, and stretching out
his hands, exclaimed in scarcely audible tones, " Oh,
heavens ! Oh, heavens! What do I see ? Look, master;
is not that a short man walking before us in the path ? "
" Faith," said Ordener, raising his eyes, " I see nothing."
" Nothing, sir ? To be sure, the path bends, and he has
disappeared behind that rock. Go no farther, sir, I en¬
treat you."
«Surely, if the person whom you imagine that you
saw disappeared so quickly, it shows that he has no idea
of waiting for us ; and if he chooses to run away, that is
no reason why we should do the same."
" Watch over us, holy Hospitius! " ejaculated Spiagu¬
dry, who in all moments of danger remembered his favo¬
rite saint.
HANS OF ICELAND.
14'?
" You must," added Ordener, " have taken the flickering
shadow of some startled owl for a man."
" And yet I really thought I saw a little man ; to be
sure, thei moonlight often produces strange delusions. It
was in the moonlight that Baldan, lord of Merneugh, took
a white bed-curtain for his mother's ghost; which led
him to go next day and confess himself guilty of parricide
before the judges of Christiania, who were about to con¬
demn the dead woman's innocent page. So we may say
that the moonlight saved that page's life."
No one was ever more ready than Spiagudry to forget
the present in the past. One anecdote from the vast
storehouse of his memory was enough to banish all thought
of the present. Thus the story of Baldan diverted his
fears, and he added in a tranquil voice, " It is quite pos¬
sible that the moonlight deceived me too."
Meantime, they gained the top of the Vulture's Neck,
and began to get another glimpse of the ruins, which the
steep slope of the rock had hidden from them as they as¬
cended.
The reader need not be surprised if we frequently en¬
counter ruins on the topmost peak of Norwegian moun¬
tains. No one who has traveled among the mountains
of Europe can have failed to notice the remains of for¬
tresses and castles clinging to the top of the loftiest
peaks, like the deserted nest of a vulture or the eyrie of
some dead eagle. In Norway especially, at the period of
which we write, the variety of these aerial structures was
as amazing as their number. Sometimes they consisted
of long dismantled walls, enclosing a rock, sometimes of
slender pointed turrets, surmounting a sharp peak, like a
crown; or upon the snowy summit of a lofty mountain
might be seen great towers grouped about a massive don¬
jon, looking in the distance like an antique diadem. Here
were the graceful pointed arches of a Gothic cloister, side
by side with the heavy Egyptian columns of a Saxon
church; there, close by some pagan chieftain's citadel
with its square towers, stood the crenellated foi'tress of a
Christian lord; or, again, a stronghold crumbling with
age, neighbored by a monastery ravaged by war. Of
all these edifices—^ strange medley of architectural
styles, now almost forgotten, daringly constructed in
148
HANS OF ICELAND.
apparently inaccessible spots—but a few ruins remained to
bear witness alike to the power and the impotence of
man. Within their walls deeds were perhaps done far
worthier of repetition than all the stories which are
written now; but time passed ; the eyes which witnessed
them are closed; the tradition of them died with the
lapse of years, like a fire which is not fed; and when
that is lost, who can read the secret of the ages ?
The manor-house of Vermund the Refugee, which our
two travelers had now reached, was one of those places
about which popular superstition has woven endless amaz¬
ing histories and marvelous legends. By its walls—
composed of pebbles bedded in cement, now harder than
stone—it was easy to determine that it was built about
the fifth or sixth century. But one of its five towers re-
' mained standing; the other four, more or less dilapidated,
and strewing the top of the rock with broken fragments,
were connected by a line of ruins, which also showed the
ancient limits of the inner courts of the castle. It was very
difficult to penetrate this enclosure, littered as it was with
stones and shattered blocks of granite, and overgrown with
weeds and brambles which, clambering from ruin to ruin,
crowned the broken walls with verdure, or overhung the
precipice with long, flexible branches. On these drooping
tendrils, it was said, dim ghosts often swung in the moon¬
light,—the guilty spirits of those Avho had wilfully
drowned themselves in Lake Sparbo; and to these twigs,
too, the water-sprite fastened the cloud which was to bear
him home again at sunrise. Fearful mysteries were these,
more than once witnessed by hardy fishermen, when, to
take advantage of the time when dogfish sleep,* they ven¬
tured to row as far as Oelmoe cliff, which loomed up in
the darkness over their heads like the broken arch of some
huge bridge.
Our two adventurers climbed the manor wall, though
not without some difficulty, and crept through a crevice,
for the door was filled with fragments. The only tower
which, as we have said, remained standing, Avas at the
extreme edge of the rock. It was, Spiagudry told Or-
dener, from the top of this tower that Munkholm light-
* The dogfisli are greatly dreaded by fishermen, because they
frighten other fish.
HANS OF ICELAND.
house could be seen. They went towards it, although the
darkness was at that moment complete, the moon being
hidden by a great black cloud. They were about to cross
a breach in another wall, in order to enter what was
once the second courtyard of the castle, when Benignus
stopped short, and suddenly seized Ordener's arm with
such a trembling hand that the young man himself almost
fell.
" What now ? " asked Ordener in surprise.
Benignus, without answering, pressed his arm more
firmly, as if begging him to be silent.
« Well—" said the young man. ^
Another pressure, accompanied by an ill-suppressed
sigh, decided him to wait patiently until this fresh fright
should cease.
At last Spiagudry asked, in a stified voice: "Well,
master, what do you say now ? "
" To what ? " said Ordener.
" Yes, sir," added the other, in the same tone; "I sup¬
pose you are sorry now that you came here ? "
" No, indeed, my worthy guide; on the contrary, I hope
to climb higher still. Why should you think that I am
sorry ? "
" What, sir, did you not see ? "
"See! What?"
" Yon saw nothing ? " repeated the honest keeper, with
ever-increasing terror.
" Truly I did not," impatiently answered Ordener ; " I
saw nothing, and I heard nothing but the sound of your
teeth chattering with fright."
" What! not behind that wall, in the shadow, those
two fiaming eyes, like comets, fixed directly upon us,—
did you not see them ? "
" Upon my honor, I did not."
"You did not see them move up and down, and then
disappear among the ruins ? "
" I don't know what you are talking about. Besides,
what if I did see them!"
" What! Mr. Ordener, don't you know that there is but
one man in Norway whose eyes gleam in that way in the
dark ? " •
" Well, and what then ? Who is this man with the
150
BANS OF ICELAND.
eyes of a cat ? Is it Hans, your much-dreaded Icelander ?
So much the better if he be here ! It will spare us a
journey to Walderhog."
This " so much the better " was not to the taste of >
Spiagudry, who could not help betraying his secret
thought by the involuntary ejaculation: " Oh, sir, you
promised to leave me at the village of Surb, a mile away
from the battle." '
The generous and kindly Ordener understood, and
smiled.
" You are right, old man; it would be unfair to make
you share my danger ; therefore fear nothing. You see
this Hans of Iceland everywhere. May there not be some
wildcat lurking among these ruins, whose eyes shine
quite as fiercely as his do ? "
Once more Spiagudry's fears were set at rest, either
because Ordener's suggestion struck him as very plausi¬
ble, or because his young companion's composure proved
contagious.
" Ah, sir," said he, " if it had not been for you I should
have died a dozen deaths from fright as I climbed these
rocks. To be sure, I should never have attempted such
a task if it had not been for you."
The moon, which noAv broke through the clouds, showed
them the gateway to the highest tower, the foot of which
they had already reached. They entered, after raising a
thick curtain of vines, which showered them with drowsy
lizards and old decayed bird's-nests. The keeper picked
up a couple of pebbles, and striking them together, pro¬
duced a few sparks, by means of which he soon set fire
to a heap of dead leaves and dry branches collected by
Ordener. In a few moments a bright column of flame
rose into the air, and banishing the darkness about
them, permitted them to examine the interior of the
tower.
Nothing was left but a circular wall, which was very
thick, and was overgrown with moss and vines. The ceil¬
ing and floors of its four stories had crumbled away one
after the other, and now formed a vast heap of rubbish
upon the ground. A narrow spiral staircase, entirely
without a railing, and broken in various places, was built
in the wall, to the top of which it led. As the tire
HANS OF ICELAND.
151
began to crackle cheerily, a swarm of owls and ospreys
flew up heavily, with strange, weird cries, and huge bats
now and then hovered above the flames, poised upon their
ashen wings.
" Our hosts do not receive us very merrily," said
Ordener; " but do not take fright again."
" I, sir," replied Spiagudry, seating himself close to the
fire; " I fear an owl or a bat! I have dwelt with corpses,
and I do not fear vampires. Ah, I only dread the living!
T am not brave, I admit; but at least I am not supersti¬
tious. Come, sir, take my advice; let us laugh at these
ladies in black petticoats and with such hoarse voices, and
let us be thinking of supper."
Ordener thought of nothing but Munkholm.
" I have here a few provisions," said Spiagudry, drawing
his knapsack from under his cloak ; " but if your appetite
be as good as mine, this black bread and mouldy cheese
will not go far. I see that we shall have to observe
the limits of the law laid down by the French king,
Philip the Fair,—Nemo audeat comedere prceter duo
fercula cum potagio. There must be nests of gulls or
pheasants on the top of this tower; but how are we to
get there by that dilapidated staircase, which does not
look as if it would bear the weight of anything but a
sylph ? "
" Still," answered Ordener, " it must needs bear mine,
for I shall certainly climb to the top of this tower."
" What, master! to get a few gulls' nests ? Do not, for
mercy's sake, be so rash! It is not worth while to kill
yourself for the sake of a better supper. Besides, suppose
you should make a mistake and take the nests of these
owls ? "
" Much I care for your nests ! Didn't you tell me
that I could see Munkholm light from the top of this
tower ? "
" So you can, young master ; it. lies to the south. I see
that your desire to establish this point, so important to
the science of geography, was your motive for taking
this fatiguing journey to Vermund castle. But do con¬
sider, good Mr. Ordener, that it may sometimes be the
duty of a zealous stu^lent to brave toil and hardship, but
ne\'er to run into danger. I implore you," do not attempt
152
HANS OF ICELAND.
that poor broken-down staircase, upon which even a crow
would not venture to perch."
Benignus was by no means anxious to be left alone in
the tower. As he rose to take Ordener's hand, his knap¬
sack, which was lying across his knees, fell upon some
stones, and gave forth a clear metallic ring.
" What have you in your wallet that rings so loudly ? "
asked Ordener.
This was such a delicate question that Spiagudry lost
all desire to restrain his young companion.
" Well," said he, without answering the question, " if,
in spite of all my prayers, you persist in climbing to the
top of this tower, at least beware of the broken places in
the stairs."
" But," repeated Ordener, " you have not told me what
you have in your knapsack to make it sound so metallic."
This indiscreet persistence was extremely unpleasant to
the old keeper, who cursed the questioner from the bottom
of his soul.
" Oh, noble master," he replied, " how can you show
such curiosity about a paltry iron barber's-basin, which
clinked against a stone ? If I cannot persuade you to
change your mind," he made haste to add, " come back as
soon as you can, and be careful to hold fast to the vines
which cover the wall. You will see Munkholm light¬
house to the south, between Frigga's Footstools."
Spiagudry could not have said anything better calcu¬
lated to drive every other idea out of the young man's
head. Ordener, throwing aside his mantle, sprang toward
the staircase, up which the keeper followed him with his
eyes until he could only see him move like a faint shadow
upward to the top of the wall, dimly lighted by the
flickering flames and the cold rays of the moon.
Then reseating himself and picking up his knapsack,
he said : " Now, my dear Benignus Spiagudry, while that
young lynx cannot see you, and you are alone, make
haste and break the cumbrous iron envelope which pre¬
vents you from taking possession, ocidis et niamt, of the
treasure undoubtedly contained in this casket. When it
is delivered from its prison, it will be lighter to carry and
easier to conceal."
Arming himself with a huge stone, he was about to
HANS OF ICELAND.
153
break the lid of the box, when the firelight, falling on the
iron lock, suddenly arrested the antiquarian.
" By Saint Willibrod the Numismatologist, I am not
mistaken," he exclaimed, eagerly rubbing the rusty lid;
" those are indeed the arms of Grittenfeld. I came near
doing a very foolish thing in breaking this lock. This
may be the only perfect copy in existence of those famous
armorial bearings destroyed in 1676 by the hangman's
hand. The devil! I will not touch this box. Whatever
may be the value of its contents, unless, as seems scarcely
probable, it should be coin of Palmyra or Carthaginian
money, this is certainly still more precious. So here I am
the sole owner of the now obsolete arms of Griffenfeld!
Let me hide this treasure carefully, and I may some time
discover the secret of opening the casket without com¬
mitting an act of vandalism. The Grittenfeld arms ! Oh,
yes! here are the hand of Justice and the scales upon a
gules ground. What luck !"
At each fresh heraldic discovery that he made as he
polished the ancient coffer, he uttered a cry of admiration
or an exclamation of content.
" By means of a solvent, I can open the box without
breaking the lock. It probably contains the ex-chancellor's
treasure. If any one, tempted by the bait of the four
crowns offered by the council for my head, should recognize
me now and stop me, I can readily buy my freedom. So
this blessed casket will save me."
As he spoke, he looked up mechanically. All at once
his grotesque features changed with lightning speed from
an expression of intense delight to that of stupefied dis¬
may ; his limbs trembled convulsively, his eyes became
fixed, his brow furrowed, his mouth gaped wide, and his
voice stuck in his throat.
Before him, on the other side of the fire, stood a little
man with folded arms. By his dress of blood-stained
skins, his stone ax, his red beard, and the ravenous stare
fastened on his face, the wretched keeper at once recog¬
nized the frightful character whose last visit he had re¬
ceived in the Spladgest at Throndhjem.
" It is I!" said the little man, with terrible calmness.
" That casket will ^ave you," he added with a bitterly
sarcastic smile. " Spiagudry, is this the way to Thoctree ?"
154
RANS OF ICELAND.
The unfortunate man tried to stammer a word of excuse.
" Thoctree! Sir—My lord and master,—I was going—"
"You were going to Walderhog," replied the other, in
a voice of thunder.
The terrified Spiagudry mustered all his forces to deny
the charge.
"You were guiding an enemy to my retreat. I thank
you! ' Twill be one living man the less. Fear nothing,
faithful guido; he shall follow you."
The luckless keeper strove to shriek, but could with
difficulty utter a feeble moan.
"Why are you so frightened at my presence? You
were seeking me. Hark ye ! Do not speak, or you are a
dead man."
The little man swung his stone ax above the keeper's
head. He added, in a voice which sounded like the roar
of a mountain-torrent as it bursts from some subterranean
cave: "You nave betrayed me."
" No, your Grace ! No, your Excellency!" gasped Be-
nignus, scarcely able to articulate these words of apology
and entreaty.
The other gave vent to a low growl.
" Ah! you would deceive me again ! Hope not to suc¬
ceed. Listen! I was on the roof of the Spladgest when
you sealed your compact with tliat mad fool; twice you
have heard my voice. It was my voice you heard amid
the storm upon your road; it was I whom you met in
Vygla tower ; it was I who said,' A Ye shall meet again!'"
The terrified keeper looked about him in despair, as if
to summon help. The little man went on : "I could not
let those soldiers who pursued you escape my wrath;
they belonged to the Munkholm regiment. I knew that
I should not lose you. Spiagudry, it was I whom you
saw again in Oelmce village beneath the miner's hat; it
was my footstep and my voice that you heard, and my
eyes that you saw as you climbed to these ruins. It
was 11"
Alas! the unfortunate man was but too well convinced
of these dreadful truths. He rolled upon the ground at
the feet of his fearful judge, crying in faint and agonizing
accents, " Mercy! "
The little man, his arms still folded, fixed upon him a
HANS OF ICELAND.
155
murderous look, more scorching even than the flames
upon the hearth.
" Ask that casket to save you, as you said it would do,"
he said sarcastically.
" Mercy, sir, mercy! " repeated the expiring victim.
"I warned you to be faithful and to be dumb. You
have not been faithful; but in future I protest that you
shall be dumb."
The keeper, grasping the horrible meaning of these
words, uttered a deep groan.
" Fear nothing," said the man ; " I will not part you
from your treasure."
At these words, unfastening his leather belt, he passed
it through a ring on the cover of the casket, and by this
means hung it about Spiagudry's neck, the poor fellow
bending beneath its weight.
" Come!" rejoined the monster, " to what devil will
you confide your soul ? lilake haste and summon him,
lest another demon whom you do not care about, take
possession of it before him."
The desperate old man, past all power of speech, fell at
the little man's knees, making countless gestures of terror
and entreaty.
" No, no! " said his tormentor; " my faithful Spiagudry,
you need not be distressed at leaving your young com¬
panion without a guide. I promise you that he shall go
where you go. Follow me; you do but show him the
way. Come!"
With these words, seizing the wretched man in his
powerful arms, he bore him from the tower as a tiger
might carry off a writhing serpent, and a moment later a
fearful shriek rang through the ruins, mingled with a
horrible burst of laughter.
156
HAIfS OF ICELAND.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Yes, we may reveal to the faithful lover's tear-wet eye the dis¬
tant object of his adoration. But alas ! the moments of expecta¬
tion, the farewells, the thoughts, the sweet and bitter memories,
the enchanting dreams of two beings that love I Who can re¬
store these ?—Matorin ; Bertram.
MsAifTiME the venturesome Ordener, after a score or
more of narrow escapes from a fall during his perilous
ascent, reached the top of the thick, round tower wall.
At his unexpected visit, dusky old owls abruptly aroused
from their nests, flew up, staring at him as they sailed
away, and loose stones, displaced hy his tread, rolled into
the abyss, rebounding from projections in the masonry
with a remote, hollow roar.
At any other time, Ordener's gaze would have roamed
far and wide, and his mind would have dwelt upon the
depth of the gulf yawning beneath him, which seemed
even greater from the thick darkness of the night. His
eye, taking in all the great masses of shadow on the hori¬
zon, their somber outlines but half revealed by a nebulous
moon, would have striven to distinguish between mist and
rocks, between mountains and clouds; his imagination
would have lent life to all the gigantic forms, the fantastic
shapes with which moonlight clothes hills and vapors.
He would have listened to the indistinct murmur of lake
and woods blended with the shrill sough of the wind
through the crevices in the stones and through the dried
grass at his feet, and his fancy would have lent words to
all those low voices through which material Nature speaks
while man sleeps, in the silence of the night. But al¬
though the scene unconsciously acted upon his whole
being, other thoughts filled his mind. Hardly had his
foot touched the top of the wall, when his eye turned to
the southern sky, and he thrilled with unspeakable rapture
as he saw beyond and between two small mountains a
point of light gleaming upon the horizon like a red star.
It was Muukholm beacon.
nAXS OF ICELAND.
157
Nous but those who have tasted the truest joys which
life can give can understand the young man's happiness.
His soul was filled with delight; his heart beat violently.
Motionless, his eye fixed, he gazed at the star of hope and
consolation. It seemed as if that beam of light traversing
the darkness, and coming from the spot which held all
that made life worth living, bore with it something of his
Ethel. Ah ! do not doubt it; one soul may sometimes,
hold mysterious communion with another, though widely
parted by time and space. In vain the world of reality
rears its barriers between two beings who love ; inhabit¬
ants of an ideal world, they are present to each other in
absence, they are united in death. What can mere bodily
separation or physical distance avail if two hearts be in-
dissolubly bound by a single thought and a common
desire ? For true love may suffer, but it cannot die.
Who has not repeatedly lingered on a rainy night
beneath some dimly lighted window? Who has not
passed and repassed a certain door, rapturously wan¬
dered up and down before a certain house ? Who has
not abruptly retraced his steps, to follow, at evening,
along some deserted, winding street, a floating skirt or
a white veil suddenly recognized in the twilight? He
who has never experienced these feelings may safely say
that he has never loved.
As he gazed at the distant lighthouse, Ordener pon¬
dered. A sad and ironical contentment took the place
of his first transports; a thousand varying thoughts and
ideas crowded upon his agitated spirit. "Yes," said he,
"a man must labor long and painfully to win at last
a ray of happiness in the vast night of existence. So
she is there ! She sleeps, she dreams, perhaps she thinks
of me ! But who will tell her that her Ordener even now
hangs above an abyss, sad and lonely, surrounded by dark¬
ness,—her Ordener, who retains nothing of her but a
single ringlet pressed to his heart and a faint light upon
the horizon! " Then, looking at the ruddy glow of the
huge fire burning in the tower beneath, and escaping
through the crevices in the wall, he murmured : " Perhaps
from one of her prison windows she casts an indifferent
glance at the far-off flame upon this hearth."
All at once, a loud shriek and a prolonged burst of
158 HANS OF ICELAND.
laughter rose from the brink of the precipice below; he
turned abruptly, and saw that the interior of the tower
was vacant. Alarmed for the safety of the old man, he
hurriedly descended; but he had taken but a few steps
when he heard a dull splash, as if a heavy body had been
thrown into the deep waters of the lake.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Count Don Sancho Diaz, lord of Saldana, shed bitter tears in
his prison ceil. Full of despair, he sighed forth in solitude his
complaints against King Alfonso: " Oh, sad moments, when my
■white locks remind me how many years I have already passed in
this horrible prison !"—Old Spanish Romance.
The sun was setting, and its horizontal beams threw
the dark shadow of the prison-bars upon Schumacher's
woolen gown and Ethel's crape dress, as they sat by the
high-arched casement, the old man in a great Gothic chair,
the young girl upon a stool at his feet. The prisoner
seemed to be brooding, in his favorite melancholy attitude.
His bald, wrinkled brow rested on his hand, and his face
was hidden save for the long white beard which hung
down his breast in sad disorder.
" Father," said Ethel, trying by every means to rouse
him, " my lord and father, I dreamed last night of a happy
future. Look, dear father; raise your eyes, and see that
bright, cloudless sky."
" I can only see the sky," the old man replied, " through
my prison-bars, as I can only see your future, Ethel,
through my misfortunes."
Then his head, for an instant lifted, fell back upon his
hands, and both were silent.
" Father," rejoined the young girl, a moment later, in a
timid voice, " are you thinking of Lord Ordener ? "
" Ordener ?" said the old man, as if striving to recall
the name. " Ah, I know whom you mean! What of
him ? "
" Do you think that he will soon return, father ? He
has been gone so long!—this is the fourth day."
The old man shook his head sadly.
HANS OF ICELAND.
15!!
" I think that when four years have passed, his return
will be as close at hand as it is to-day."
Ethel turned pale.
"Heavens! Then you think that he will not come
back ? "
Schumacker made no answer. The young girl re¬
peated her question in an anxious and beseeching tone.
" Did he not promise to return ? " said the old man,
curtly.
" Yes, to he sure 1" eagerly answered Ethel.
" Well, how can you reckon upon his coming, then ? Is
he not a man ? I believe that the vulture will return to
a dead body, but I have no faith in the return of spring
when the year is on the wane."
Ethel, seeing that her father had relapsed into his
wonted melancholy, took courage; the voice of her young
and virginal soul proudly denied the old man's morbid
philosophy.
" Father," she said firmly, « Lord Ordener will return ;
he is not like other men."
" What do you know about it, girl ? "
" What you know yourself, my lord and father."
" I know nothing," said the old man. " I heard words
from a man, and they promised the actions of a god."
Then he added, with a bitter smile: " I have weighed
them well, and I see that they are too beautiful to be
true."
"And I, sir, believe them because they are so beauti¬
ful."
" Oh, girl, if you were what you should be. Countess of
Tbnsberg and Princess of Wollin, surrounded, as you
would be, by a swarm of handsome traitors and selfish
adorers, such credulity would be most dangerous."
"It is not credulity, my lord and father, but confi¬
dence."
" It is easy to see, Ethel, that there is French blood in
your veins."
This idea led the old man, by an imperceptible transi¬
tion, to a different train of thought, and he added, with a
certain complacency :—
" For those who degraded your father to a point lower
yet than that from which he had raised himself, cannot
100
HANS OF ICELAND.
deny that you are the daughter of Charlotte, Princess
of Tarentum, or that one of your ancestresses was Adela
(or Edila), Countess of Flanders, whose name you bear."
Ethel's mind was running on quite other things.
" Father, you misjudge the'noble Ordener."
"Noble, my daughter! What do you mean by that?
I have made men noble who proved themselves very
vile."
" I do not mean, sir, that his nobility is of the kind con¬
ferred by man."
" Do you know that he is descended from some ' jarl'
or ' hersa ? ' " *
" I know as little of his descent as you do, father. He
may be," she added, with downcast eyes, " the son of a
vassal or a serf. Alas ! crowns and lyres may be painted
upon the velvet covering of a footstool. I only mean that,
judged by your own standard, my revered sire, he has a
noble heart."
Of all the men whom she had seen, Ordener was the
one whom Ethel knew at once best and least. He had
dawned upon her destiny, like one of those angels who
visited the first men, wrapped alike in mystery and in
radiant light. Their mere presence revealed their nature,
and they were at once adored. Thus Ordener had shown
Ethel what men usually conceal, his heart; he had been
silent concerning that of which they usually make boast,
his country and his family. His look was enough for
Ethel, and she had faith in his words. She loved him,
she had given him her life, she was intimate with his
soul, and she did not know his name.
" A noble heart! " repeated the old man; " a noble heart!
Such nobility is higher than any in the gift of kings; it
is the gift of God. He is less lavish with it than are
they."
The prisoner raised his eyes to his shattered escutcheon
as he added; " And he never withdraws it."
" Then, father," said the girl, " he who retains the one
should be easily consoled for the loss of the other."
* The ancient aristocracy of Norway, before Griflenfeld estab¬
lished a regular order of nobility, were entitled " hersa" (baron)
or "jarl" (count). The English word "earl "is derived from
the latter.
HANS OF ICELAND.
These words startled her father and restored his cour¬
age. He replied in a firm voice:—
"You are right, girl. But you do not know that the
disgrace held by the world to be unjust is sometimes con¬
firmed bj*^ our secret conscience. Such is our poor na¬
ture ; once unhappy, countless voices which slumbered in
the time of our prosperity wake within us and accuse us
of faults and errors before unnoted."
" Say not so, illustrious father," said Ethel, deeply
moved; for by the old man's altered voice, she felt that
he had allowed the secret source of one of his greatest
sorrows to escape him.
She raised her eyes to his face, and kissing his pallid,
withered hand, she added gently : "You are severe in
your judgment of two noble men. Lord Ordener and your¬
self, my revered father."
"You decide lightly, Ethel. One would say that you
did not know that life is a serious matter."
" Am I wrong then, sir, to do justice to the generous
Ordener ? "
Schuniacker frowned, with a dissatisfied air.
" I cannot approve, my daughter, of such admiration
for a stranger whom you may never see again."
" Oh," said the young girl, upon whose soul these cold
words fell like a heavy weight, "do not believe it. We
shall see him again. Was it not for your sake that he
went forth to brave such danger ? "
" Like yourself, I confess that I was at first deceived by
his promises. But no ; he will never go upon his mission,
and therefore he will never return to us."
" lie did go, sir; he did go."
The tone in which the young girl pronounced these
words was almost that of one offended and insulted. She
felt herself outraged in her Ordener's person. Alas! she
was only too sure in her own soul of the truth which she
asserted.
The prisoner replied, seemingly unmoved: " Very well.
If he has really gone to fight that brigand, if he has
rushed into such danger, it comes to the same thing,—
he will never return."
Poor Ethel ! how often a word indifferently uttered,
painfully galls the hidden wound in an anxious and
11
TIAXSi OF ICELAND.
tortured heart! She bent her pale face to hide from hei
father's stern gaze the tears which, in spite of all her
efforts, fell from her burning eyes.
" Oh, father," she sighed, " while you speak thus, this
noble and unfortunate youth may be dying for your
sake!"
The aged mmister shook his head doubtfully.
" That I can neither believe nor wish. And even so,
how am I to blame ? I should merely show myself un¬
grateful to the young man, as so many others have shown
themselves to me."
A deep sigh was Ethel's only answer; and Schumacker,
turning to his table, tore up with an absent air a few
leaves of " Plutarch's Lives," which volume lay before
him, already tattered in countless places, and covered
with marginal notes. A moment later the door opened,
and Schumacker, without looking up, cried out as usual:
" Do not enter! do not disturb me ! I will see no one I"
" It is his Excellency the governor," was the answer.
An elderly man dressed m the uniform of a general,
with the collars of the Elephant, the Dannebrog, and the
Golden Fleece about his neck, advanced toward Schu¬
macker, who half rose, muttering, " The governor! the
governor!" The general bowed respectfully to Ethel,
as she stood at her father's side, timidly and anxiously
watching him.
Perhaps before proceeding further, it will be well briefly
to recall the motives of General Levin's visit to Munk-
holm. The reader will remember the unpleasant news
which disturbed the old governor, in the twentieth chap¬
ter of this truthful narrative. On receiving it, he at once
saw the importance of questioning Schumacker; but he
was extremely reluctant to do so. The idea of tormenting
a poor prisoner, already a prey to so much that was pain¬
ful, and whom he had known in his days of power, of
severely scanning the secrets of an unfortunate man, even
if guilty, was most unpleasant to his kind and generous
soul. Still, his duty to the king required it. He ought
not to leave Throndhjem without such fresh light as
might be gained by questioning the apparent author of
the rebellion among the miners. Accordingly, the night
before his departui-e, after a long and confidential talk with
HANS OF ICELAND.
1G3
Countess d'Ahlefeld, the governor made up his mind to
visit the prisoner. As he approached the forti ess, thoughts
of the interests of the State, of the advantage to which his
many personal enemies might turn what they would style
his negligence, and perhaps too the crafty words of the
chancellor's wife, worked within him, and confirmed him
in his purpose. He therefore climbed to the Lion of
Schleswig tower with every intention to be severe; he
resolved to bear himself toward Schumacher the conspira¬
tor as if he had never known Griffenfeld the chancellor,
—to cast aside all his memories, and even his natural dis¬
position, and to speak as a firm judge to this former
fellow-sharer in the royal favor.
So soon, however, as he entered the ex-chancellor's
apartment, the old man's venerable though somber face
made a strong impression upon him; Ethel's sweet though
dignified expression touched him; and with his first
glance at the two prisoners, his stern intentions died
within him.
He advanced toward the fallen minister, and involun¬
tarily offered him his hand, saying, without remarking
that his politeness met with no response:—
" How are you. Count Griffenf—" His old habit over¬
came him for the moment; then he corrected himself
quickly—" Mr. Schumacker ? " With this he paused,
satisfied and exhausted by such an effort.
Silence ensued. The general racked his brain to find
words harsh enough to correspond with this brutal be¬
ginning.
"Well," Schumacker said at last, "are you the gover¬
nor of the province of Throndhjem ? "
The governor, somewhat surprised to find himself ques¬
tioned by the man he had meant to question, bowed his
head.
" Then," added the prisoner, " I have a complaint to lay
before you."
" A complaint! What is it ? what is it ? " And the
kind-hearted Levin's countenance assumed a look of in¬
terest.
Schumacker went on, in a tone of considerable annoy¬
ance : " By order of tUe viceroy I am to be left free and
undisturbed in this donjon."
164
HAJ^S OF ICELAND.
" I am aware of the order."
" And yet, Governor, I am importuned and annoyed by
visits."
" Visits ! and from whom ? " cried the general; " tell
me who dares—"
" You, Governor."
These words, uttered in a haughty tone, offended the
general. He answered, in a somewhat irritated voice:
"You forget that my power knows no limits when it is a
question of serving the king."
" Unless," said Schumacker, " it were those of the
respect due to misfortune. But men know nothing of
that."
The ex-chancellor said this as if speaking to himself.
The governor heard him.
" Yes, indeed! yes, indeed! I was wrong, Count Griff—
Mr. Schumacker, I should say; I should leave the priv¬
ilege of anger to you, since the power is mine."
Schumacker was silent for a moment. " There is," he
resumed thoughtfully, " something about your face and
voice, Governor, which reminds me of a man I once knew.
It was very long ago. No one but myself can remember
those days. It was in the time of my prosperity. He
was one Levin de Knud, of Mecklenburg. Did you ever
know the foolish fellow ? "
" I knew him," quietly replied the general.
" Oh, you remember him! I thought it was only in
adversity that we remembered."
" Was he not a captain in the Royal Guards?" added
the governor.
"Yes, a mere captain, although the king loved him
dearly. But he thought of nothing but pleasure, and
seemed to have no ambition. He was a strange, mad fel¬
low. Can you conceive that a favorite could be so moder¬
ate in his desires ? "
" I can understand it."
" I was fond of this Levin de Knud, because he never gave
me any alarm. He was the king's friend as he might
have been the friend of any other man. It seemed as if
he loved him for his own sake, and not for his position."
The general would have interrupted Schumacker; but
the latter persisted, either from a spirit of contradiction.
HANS OF ICELAND.
105
or because the train of thought into which he had drifted
really pleased him.
" Since you knew this Captain Levin, Governor, you
probably know that he had a son who died young. But
do you remember what happened at the birth of this
son ? "
" I can better recall what occurred at the time of his
death," said the general, coveiing his eyes with his hand,
and in a faltering voice.
" But," continued the heedless Schumacker, " this fact
was known to very few persons, and it will show you just
how peculiar this Levin was. The king wished to be the
child's godfather; would you believe that Levin refused ?
He did more; he ehose an old beggar who hung about the
palace gates, to hold his son at the baptismal font. I never
could understand the reason for such an act of lunacy."
" I will tell you," replied the general. " In choosing a
guardian for his son's soul, this Captain Levin doubtless
thought that a poor man had more influence with God
than a king."
Schumacker considered for a moment, then said: "You
are right."
The governor again attempted to turn the conversation
to the object of his visit. But Schumacker cut him
short.
" Excuse me; if it be true that you know this Levin of
Mecklenburg, let me talk of him. Of all the men whom
I knew in the days of my grandeur, he is the only one
whose memory does not inspire me with disgust or horror.
Although he carries his peculiarity to the verge of folly,
his noble qualities, none the less, made him one man in a
thousand."
" I do not agree with you. This Levin was no better
than other men. In fact, there are many who are better."
Schumacker folded his arms, and raised his eyes to
heaven. "Yes, that is the way with them all. You can¬
not praise a worthy man in their presence, that they do
not instantly seek to disparage him. They poison every¬
thing, even the pleasure of just praise, rare as it is."
"If you knew me, you would not accuse me of dis¬
paraging Gener—I meaji. Captain Levin."
"Xonsense! nonsense," said the prisoner; "for loyalty
1G6
UANS OF ICELAND.
and generosity, there were never two men like this Levin
de Knud, and to say a word to the contrary is both an
outrageous slander and a flattery of this miserable human
race."
" I assure you," returned the general, trying to assuage
Schumacher's wrath, " that I have not the slightest in¬
tention of wronging Levin de Knud."
" Do not say that. Although he was so foolish, the rest
of mankind is anything but like him. They are a false,
ungrateful, envious set of slanderers. Do you know that
Levin de Knud gave more than half his income to the
Copenhagen hospitals ? "
" I did not know that you knew it."
" There it is! " triumphantly exclaimed the old man.
"You thought that you could safely brand him, trusting
to my ignorance of the poor fellow's good deeds! "
" Not at all, not at all!"
" Do you suppose, too, that I don't know that he per¬
suaded the king to give the regiment which he intended
for him, to an officer who had wounded him in a duel, be¬
cause, he said, the other outranked him ? "
" I thought that transaction was a secret."
"Well, tell me. Governor of Throndhjem, does that
make it any less beautiful ? If Levin concealed his virtues,
is that a reason for denying them ? Oh, how much alike
men are ! How dare you compare the noble Levin with
them,—he who, when he could not save a soldier convicted
of an attempt to murder him, settled a pension upon his
murderer's widow?"
" Pooh ! who would not do as much?"
Here Schumacher exploded. "Who? You! I! Any
other man, Sir Governor! Because you wear the showy
uniform of a general, and stars and crosses on your breast,
do you think yourself a very meritorious person ? You
are a general, and poor Levin, I dare say, died a captain.
True, he was a foolish fellow, and never thought of pro¬
motion."
«If he did not think of it himself, the king in his good¬
ness thought of it for him."
"Goodness? Say, rather, justice, if there be such a
thing as the justice of a king 1 Well, what signal reward
did he receive ? "
HANS OF ICELAND.
1G7
"His Majesty paid Levin de Knud far beyond his
deserts."
" Capital! " cried the aged minister, clapping his hands.
" A faithful captain is perhaps, after thirty years' service,
made a major; and this distinguished mark of favor
offends you, noble general ? The Persian proverb is true
which says that the setting sun is jealous of the rising
moon."
Schumacker's fury was so great that the general could
scarcely get in the words : " If you persist in interrupting
* me—You will not let me explain—"
" No, no!" continued the other; " I thought at first
sight. General, that I caught a certain likeness between
you and my good Levin ; but no ! there is none."
" Do but listen to me—"
" Listen to you! and hear you say that Levin de Knud
is unworthy of some trifling reward ? "
" I swear it is not—"
"You will presently—I know you men—try to per¬
suade me that he is a knave, a hypocrite, and a villain,
like t'ne rest of you."
" No, indeed! "
"How do I know? Or perhaps that he betrayed a
friend, persecuted a benefactor, as you all do; or poisoned
his father, or murdered his mother ? "
" You are mistaken. I have not the slightest desire—"
" Do you know that it was he who compelled Vice-chan¬
cellor Wind, as well as Scheele, Vinding, and Justice
Lasson, three of my judges, not to sentence me to death ?
And you would have me hear him calumniated, and not
defend him ! Yes, that is what he did for me, and yet I
had always done him more harm than good; for I am
like you, vile and wicked."
The noble Levin was strangely moved by this singular
interview. The object alike of the most direct insults and
the sincerest praise, he knew not how to take sueh rough
compliments and such flattering abuse. He was shocked
and touched. Now he wanted to get into a passion, and
now to thank Schumaeker. Present and yet unknown,
he loved to hear fhe fierce Schumaeker defend in him, and
against him, a friend and an absent man; only he would
have preferred that his advocate should put a trifle less
168
BANS OF ICELAND.
bitterness and acrimony into his panegyric. But in his
innermost heart the exaggerated praise bestowed on Cap¬
tain Levin pleased him even more than the insults ad¬
dressed to the governor of Throndhjem wounded him.
Fixing his kindly gaze upon the favorite in disgrace, he
allowed him to vent his gratitude and his wrath; until
at last, after a prolonged invective against human ingrat¬
itude, he sank exhausted upon an arm-chair, into the
trembling Ethel's arms, saying in a melancholy voice:
" Oh, men! what have I done that I should be forced to
know you ? "
The general had not yet been able to broach the impor¬
tant topic of his visit to Munkholm. All his reluctance
to torment the captive by a series of questions, revived;
to his pity and emotion were added two powerful motives:
Schumacher's present state of agitation made it improba¬
ble that he could answer satisfactorily ; and, moreover, on
considering the affair more closely, it did not seem to the
trusting Levin that such a man could be a conspirator.
Still, how could he leave Throndhjem without examining
Schumacher ? This disagreeable necessity of his position
as governor once more overcame all his scruples, and he
began as follows, softening his voice as much as possible:
" Pray, calm your excitement. Count Schumacher."
This compromise struck the good governor as a happy
inspiration, well fitted to reconcile the respect due to the
sentence pronounced against him, with a proper regard
for the prisoner's misfortune, as it combined his noble
title and his humble cognomen. He added: "Itis my
painful duty—"
" First," interrupted the prisoner, « allow me. Gover¬
nor, to return to a subject which interests me far more
than anything that your Excellency can have to say to me.
You assured me just now that that madcap Levin had
been rewarded for his services. I am most anxious to
know in what way."
" His Majesty, my lord Griffenfeld, raised Levin to the
rank of general, and for more than twenty years the fool¬
ish fellow has grown old in peace, honored with this
military dignity and the favor of his king."
Schumacker's head drooped.
" Yes ; that foolish Levin, who cared so little whether
EAyS OF ICELAND.
169
he ever lived to be more than, a captain, will die a gen¬
eral ; and the wise Schumaeker, who expected to die
Lord Chancellor, grows old a prisoner of state."
As he uttered these words, he hid his face in his hands
and heaved a deep sigh. Ethel, who understood nothing
of the conversation, save that it distressed her father,
instantly strove to divert him.
" Look yonder, father, to the north; I see a gleam of
light which I never noticed before."
In fact, the night, which had now closed in, revealed a
faint and distant light upon the horizon, apparently com¬
ing from some far-off mountain. But Schumaeker's mind
and eye were not, like those of Ethel, ever bent on the
north; therefore he made no reply. The general alone
was struck by the young girl's remark.
" It may be," thought he, " a fire kindled by the
rebels;" and this idea forcibly reminding him of the
purpose of his visit, he thus addressed the prisoner: " Mr.
Griffenfeld, I am sorry to distress you, but you must
allow me—"
" I understand you. Governor; it is not enough to spend
my days in this dungeon, to lead a lonely, disgraced exist¬
ence, to have nothing left but bitter memories of past
grandeur and power, you must also intrude upon my
solitude, gaze upon my sorrow, and enjoy my misfortune.
Since that noble Levin de Knud, whom some of your
outward features recall to me, is a general like yourself,
why was noc he permitted to fill your post; for he would
never, I swear. Sir Governor, have come to torture a
miserable prisoner."
During the course of this strange interview the general
had more than once been on the point of revealing him¬
self, that he might bring it to a close. This indirect re¬
proach made it impossible; it accorded so well with his
secret feelings that it almost made him feel ashamed of
himself. Still, he tried to answer Schumacher's injurious
charge. Strange to say, from their mere difference of
character, the two men had mutually changed their posi¬
tion ; the judge was in some sort obliged to justify him¬
self to the prisoner.
« But," said the general, " if his duty compelled him, do
not doubt that Levin de Knud "
170
HANS OF ICELAND.
"I do doubt it, noble Governor," exclaimed Schd-
macker; " do not doubt in your turn that he would have
rejected, with all the generous indignation of his soul, the
office of spy, or of increasing the agony of a wretched
prisoner! No, I know him better than you; he would
never have accepted the duties of an executioner. Now,
General, I am at your .service ; do what you consider your
duty. What does your Excellency require of me ? "
And the old minister fixed his haughty gaze upon the
governoi', all whose resolution was gone. His first reluc¬
tance had returned, and was not to be overcome.
" He is right," thought he ; " why should I torture an
unfortunate man upon mere suspicion? Let some one
else undertake the task ! "
The effect of these reflections was prompt; he walked
up to the astonished Schumacker and pressed his hand.
Then he hurriedly left the room, saying : " Count Schu¬
macker, always preserve the same esteem for Levin de
Knud."
CHAPTER XXV.
Lion (roaring). Oh —
Demetrius. Well roared, lion !
Shakespeare : Midsummer Night's Dream.
The traveler of the present day who visits the snow-
clad mountains which surround Lake Miosen like a white
girdle, will scarcely find a vestige of what Norwegians
of the seventeenth century knew as Arbar ruin. No one
was ever able to decide the architectural period or the
purpose for which this ruin, if we may give it the name,
was built. As you left the forest which covered the
southern shore of the lake, after climbing a slope crowned
with here and there a fragment of wall or a bit of masonry
once a tower, you reached an arched opening leading into
the side of the mountain. This entrance, now completely
closed by landslips, led into a species of gallery cut in
the living rock, and piercing the mountain from side to
side.
This tunnel, dimly lighted by donical air-holes made in
llAXfi OF ICELAND.
171
the arched roof at regular intervals, ended in an oval hall
in part excavated from the rock, and terminating in a
cj'clopean stone wall. Around this hall, in deep niches,
were rude images carved from granite. Some of these
mysterious figures, which had fallen from their pedestals,
lay heaped in confusion on tire ground with other shape¬
less rubbish, covered with grass and weeds, among which
crawled lizards, spiders, and all the hideous vermin born
of damp earth and ruins.
Daylight penetrated to this place only through a door
opposite the mouth of the gallery. This door, viewed in
a certain light, was seen to be of pointed construction,
of no especial date, and evidently the work of the archi¬
tect's whim.
This door might as well have been styled a window,
although it was on a level with the ground, for it opened
upon a fearful precipice; and it was impossible to imagine
whither a short flight of stairs which overhung the abyss
could possibly lead.
The hall formed the interior of a huge turret which
from a distance, seen from the other side of the precipice,
looked like any high mountain peak. It stood alone, and,
as has already been said, no one knew to what sort of struc¬
ture it had belonged. Above it, however, upon a plateau
inaccessible even to the boldest hunter, was a mass of
masonry which might be taken, being so remote, either
for a rounded rock or for the remains of a colossal arch.
This turret and crumbling arch were known to the
peasants as Arbar ruin, the origin of the name being fully
as obscure as tbat of the buildings themselves.
On a stone in the center of this oval hall sat a little
man dressed in the skins of wild beasts, whom we have
already had occasion to mention several times in the
course of our story.
His back was turned to the light, or rather to the faint
twilight which filtered into the gloomy turret when the
sun reached high noon. This light, the strongest natural
light which ever entered the tower, was not sufficient to
reveal the nature of the object over which the little man
was stooping. An occasional muffled groan was heard,
and it seemed to proofed from this object, judging by the
feeble movement which it now and then made. Some-
172
HANS OF ICELAFD.
times the little man straightened himself, and raised to
his lips a cup, by its form apparently a human skull, filled
with steaming liquid of some indistinguishable hue, and
drank deep draughts.
All at once he started up.
" I hear steps in the gallery, I believe; can it be the
chancellor of the two kingdoms already ? "
These words were followed by a horrible burst of laugh¬
ter ending in a savage roar, which met with an instant
response in a howl from the gallery.
"Oh, ho!" rejoined the lord of Arbar ruin; "it is
not a man. But it is an enemy all the same; it is a
wolf."
In fact, a huge wolf suddenly emerged from the vaulted
gallery, paused a moment, then advanced stealthily to¬
ward the man, crouching to the ground and fixing upon
him burning eyes which gleamed through the darkness.
The man stood with folded arms, and watched him.
" Ah! 'tis the old gray wolf,—the oldest wolf in
Miosen woods! Good-morning, wolf; your eyes glitter;
you are hungry, and the smell of dead bodies attracts you.
You too shall soon attract other hungry wolves. Wel¬
come, wolf of Miosen; I have always longed to make your
acquaintance. You are so old that they saj'' you cannot
die; they will not say so to-morrow."
The animal answered with a frightful yell, sprang back,
and then bounded upon the little man.
He did not budge an inch. As quick as a flash, with
his right arm he grasped the body of the wolf, which,
standing on two legs before him, had thrown his fore-
paws upon his shoulders ; with his left hand he guarded
his face from the gaping jaws of his enemy, seizing it by -
the throat with such force that the creature, compelled to
raise his head, could scarcely utter a sound.
" Wolf of Miosen," said the triumphant man," you tear
my jerkin, but your skin shall replace it."
As he mingled with these words of victory a few words
in a strange jargon, a convulsive movement made by the
dying wolf caused him to stumble upon the stones which
were thickly strewn over the floor. The two fell to¬
gether, and the roars of the man were blended with the
howls of the beast.
HANS OF ICELAND.
173
Obliged in bis fall to relax his grasp of the wolf's
throat, the man felt the sharp teeth buried in his shoul¬
der, when, as they rolled over one another, the two com¬
batants struck against an enormous shaggy white body
lying in the darkest corner of the room. It was a bear,
who waked from his heavy sleep with a growl.
No sooner were the drowsy eyes of this newcomer
opened wide enough to see the fight, than he rushed
furiously, not upon the man, but upon the wolf, just then
victorious in his turn, seized him violently by the back,
and thus freed the human combatant.
This latter, far from showing any gratitude for so great
a service, rose, covered with blood, and springing upon
the bear, gave him a vigorous kick, such as a master might
bestow on a dog guilty of some misdemeanor.
" Friend, who called you ? Why do you meddle ? "
These words were interspersed with furious ejaculations
and gnashing of teeth.
" Begone!" he added with a roar.
The bear, who had received at one and the same time
a kick from the man and a bite from the wolf, uttered a
plaintive remonstrance; then, hanging his great head, he
released the famished beast, who hurled himself upon the
man with fresh fury.
While the struggle was renewed, the rebuffed bear
went back to his couch, sat gravely down, and gazed in¬
differently at the two raging adversaries, preserving the
utmost silence, and rubbing first one fore-paw and then
the other across the tip of his white nose.
But the small man, as the leader of the Mibsen wolves
returned to the charge, seized his bloody snout; then,
by an unparalleled exertion requiring both strength and
skill, he managed to clasp his entire jaw in one hand.
The wolf struggled frantically with rage and pain; foam
dropped from his compressed lips, and his eyes, distended
with rage, seemed starting from their sockets. Of the
two foes, the one whose bones were shattered by sharp
teeth, whose fiesh was rent by cruel claws, was not the
man but the wild beast; the one whose howl was most
savage, whose expression was most fierce, was not the
animal but the man.*
Finally, the latter, collecting all his strength, ex-
174
HANS OF ICELAND.
liausted by the aged wolf's prolonged resistance, squeezed
his muzzle in both liands with such force that blood gushed
from the creature's nose and mouth; his flaming eyes
grew dim, and half closed; he tottered, and fell lifeless at
his victor's feet. The feeble twitching of his tail and the
convulsive and occasional shudder which shook his entire
frame, clone showed that he was not yet quite dead.
All at once a final quiver ran through the expiring
frame, and all signs of life ceased.
«There you lie, dead, old wolf," said the little man,
kicking him contemptuously. " Did you think that you
could live on after you had encountered me? You will
hasten no more with niulfled step across the snow, follow¬
ing the scent and the track of your prey ; you are food
for wolves or vultures now yourself; you have devoured
many a lost traveler on the shores of Mibsen during your
long life of murder and carnage ; now you yourself are
dead, you will eat no more men. 'Tis a pity ! "
He took up a sharp stone, crouched beside the wolf's
warm, palpitating body, broke the limbs at their joints,
sevei'ed the head from the shoulders, slit the skin from
head to heel, stripped it off, as he might remove his own
waistcoat, and in the twinkling of an eye nothing was
left of the much-dreaded wolf of Miosen but a bare and
bleeding carcass. He flung his trophy over his shoulders,
bruised with bites, turning inside out the skin, still
reeking and stained with long streaks of blood.
" Needs must," he muttered, " dress in the skins of
beasts; that of a man is too thin to keep out the cold."
As he thus talked to himself, more hideous than ever
beneath his loathsome burden, the bear, tired no doubt of
inaction, furtively approached the other object lying in
the shadow, to which we referred in the beginning of this
chapter, and a crunching of bones, mingled with faint,
agonized moans, soon rose from this gloomy quarter of
the hall. The small man turned.
" Friend!" cried he in threatening tones; " ah, you
good-for-nothing Friend! Here, come here!"
And picking up a huge stone, he hurled it at the mon¬
ster's head. The creature, stunned by the blow, reluc¬
tantly tore himself from his prey, and crawled, licking his
bloody chaps, to fall pantmg at the little man's feet, lift-
HANS OF ICELAND.
175
ing his huge head and wriggling, as if to ask pardon for
his rash act.
Then ensued between the two monsters—for we may
Avell apply that name to the dweller in Arbar ruin—an
exchange of significant growls. Those of the man ex¬
pressed anger and authority ; those of the bear, entreaty
and submission.
" There," said the man at last, pointing with his crooked
finger to the flayed body of the wolf, " there is your vic¬
tim ; leave mine to me."
The bear, after smelling at the wolfs carcass, shook his
head discontentedly, and turned his eye toward the man
who seemed to be his master.
" I understand," said the latter ; " that is too dead for
you, while there is still life in the other. You are refined
in your pleasures. Friend,—quite as much so as a man;
you like to have your food retain its life until the instant
when you tear it limb from limb; you love to feel the
flesh expire beneath your teeth ; you enjoy nothing unless
it suffers. We are alike ; for I am not a man. Friend ; I
am superior to that wretched race ; I am a wild beast like
you. How I wish that you could speak to me, comrade
Friend, to tell me whether my joy equals that which
thrills your bearish soul when you devour a man's heart.
But no; I should be loath to hear you speak, lest your
voice should recall to me the human voice. Yes, growl at
my feet with that growl which makes the stray goatherd
tremble among the mountains ; it pleases me as the voice
of a friend, because it proclaims you his enemy. Look
up. Friend, look up at me ; lick my hands with that tongue
which has drunk so often of human blood. Your teeth
are white like mine: it is no fault of ours if they be not
red as a new-made wound; but blood washes away
blood. More than once from the depths of some dark
cave I have seen the maidens of Kiblen or Oelmoe bathe
their bare feet in some mountain torrent, singing the
while in sweet tones ; but I prefer your hairy snout and
your hoarse cries to those melodious voices and satin-
smooth faces ; for they terrify mankind."
As he said this, he sat down and yielded his hand to
the caresses of the monster, who, rolling on his back at his
master's feet, lavished all sorts of endearments upon him,
HANS OF ICELAND.
like a spaniel displaying his pretty tricks before the sofa
of his mistress.
Stranger yet was the intelligent attention with which he
seemed to follow his master's words. The singular mono¬
syllables with which the latter interspersed them seemed
particularly intelligible to his understanding; and he
showed his comprehension by rearing his head sud¬
denly, or by a vague rumbling noise in the back of his
throat.
" Men say that I shun them," resumed the little man;
" but it is they that shun me; they do through fear what
I should do through hate. Still, you know. Friend, that
I am always glad to come across a man when I am hungry
or thirsty."
All at once he saw a red glow start into life in the
depths of the gallery, growing brighter by degrees and
faintly tinting the damp old walls.
" Here comes one now. Talk of the Devil and you see
his horns. Hullo, Friend!" he added, turning to the
bear; " hullo! get up ! "
The animal instantly rose.
" Come, I must reward your obedience by gratifying
your appetite."
With these words, the man stooped toward the object
lying on the groimd.
The cracking of bones broken by a hatchet was heard;
but no sigh or groan was now blended with it.
" It seems," muttered the small man, " that there are
but two of us left alive in Arbar hall. There, good Friend,
finish the feast which you began."
He flung toward the aforementioned outer door what
he had detached from the object stretched at his feet.
The bear threw himself upon his prey so rapidly that the
swiftest eye could not have been sure that the fragment
was indeed a human arm, clad in a bit of green stuff of
the same shade as the uniform worn by the Munkholm
musketeers.
« Some one is coming," said the little man, keeping his
eye on the light, which was steadily advancing. " Com¬
rade Friend, leave me alone for a moment. Ho there!
Away with you!"
The obedient beast rushed to the door, backed down
HANS OF ICELAND.
the steps outside, and disappeared, bearing off his disgust¬
ing booty with a satisfied howl.
At the same instant a tall man appeared at the mouth
of the tunnel, whose sinuous depths still refiected a dim
light. He was wrapped in a long brown cloak, and car¬
ried a dark-lantern, which he turned full on the small
man's face.
The latter, still seated on his stone with folded arms,
exclaimed; " 111 befall you, you who come hither guided
by an idea, and not by instinct! "
But the stranger, making no reply, seemed studying
him carefully.
" Look at me," he continued, raising his head ; « an hour
hence you may have no voice left with which to boast
that you have seen me."
The newcomer, moving his light up and down the
little man's person, seemed even more surprised than
frightened.
" Well, what astonishes you so much?" rejoined the
little man, with a laugh like the breaking of bones. " I
have legs and arms like your own; only my limbs will
not like yours serve to feed wildcats and crows! "
The stranger at length replied, in a low but confident
voice, as if he only feared being heard from with¬
out : " Hear me; I come, not as an enemy, but as a
friend."
The other interrupted, " Then why did you not .strip
off your human form ? "
"It is my purpose to do you a service, if you be he
whom I seek."
"You mean, to ask a service. Man, you waste your
breath. I can do no service to any save those who are
weary of life."
" By your words," replied the stranger, " I am sure
that you are the man I want; but your stature— Hans
of Iceland is a giant. You cannot be he."
"You are the first who ever doubted it to my face."
" What! can it be ? " And the stranger approached the
little man. " But I always heard that Hans of Iceland
was of colossal height."
" Add my renown my height, and you will see that
I am taller than Mount llecla."
HANS OF ICELAND.
" Indeed! Tell me, I pray, are you really Hans, a
native of Klipstadur in Iceland ?"
" It is not in words that I should answer that question,"
said the little man, rising; and the look which he cast at
the rash stranger made him start back several paces.
" Confine yourself, I beg, to answering it by that glance,",
he replied in a voice of entreaty, casting a look toward
the exit, which showed his regret that he had ever en¬
tered ; " I came here in your interests alone."
Upon entering the hall, the newcomer, having but a
glimpse of the person whom he accosted, had retained
his self-possession; but when the master of Arbar rose,
with his tigerish visage, his thick-set limbs, his bloody
shoulders, but half concealed by a skin still green, his
huge hands armed with claws, and his fiery eyes, the
bold stranger shuddered, like an ignorant traveler who
thinks he is handling an eel and feels the sting of a
viper.
" My interests ? " repeated the monster. " Have you
come to tell me of some spring which I may poison, some
village I may burn, or some Munkholm musketeer I may
slaughter ? "
"Perhaps. Listen: The miners of Norway are in a
state of revolt. You know what disaster follows in the
train of revolt."
"Yes,—murder, rape, sacrilege, fire, and pillage."
" All these I offer you."
The little man laughed.
" I should not wait for you to offer them."
The brutal sneer accompanying these words made the
stranger again shudder. He went on, however:—
" In the name of the miners, I offer you the command
of the insurrection."
The small man was silent for an instant. All at once
his dark countenance assumed an expression of infernal
malice.
" Does the offer really come from them ? " said he.
This question seemed to embarrass the newcomer;
but as he was sure that he was unknown to his terrible
interlocutor, he readily recovered himself.
" Why have the miners rebelled ? "
" To throw off the burden of the royal protectorate."
HANS OF ICELAND.
179
" Only for that ? " replied the other in the same mock¬
ing tone.
" They also wish to free the prisoner of Munkholm."
" Is this the sole purpose of the movement ? " repeated
the small man in a voice which confused the stranger.
" I know of no other," he stammered.
" Oh, you know of no other! "
These words were pronounced in the same sarcastic
tone. The stranger, to hide the embarrassment which
icy caused him, hastily drew from beneath his cloak a
■avy purse which he flung at the monster's feet.
" Here is your pay as commander-in-chief."
The small man spurned the purse with his foot.
" I will not have it. Do you imagine that if I wanted
your gold or your blood I should wait for your permission
to gratify my desire ? "
The stranger made a gesture of surprise, almost of
terror.
" It is a present from the royal miners."
" I will not have it, I tell you. Gold is useless to me.
Men will sell their soul, but they do not sell their life.
That must be taken by force."
" Then I may tell the miners that the terrible Hans of
Iceland accepts their leadership, but not their gold ? "
" I do not accept it."
These words, uttered in curt tones, seemed to strike
the pretended envoy from the rebellious miners very un¬
pleasantly.
" What ? " he asked.
" No !" repeated the other.
" You refuse to take part in an expedition which pre¬
sents so many advantages ? "
" I am quite able to pillage farms, lay waste villages,
and massacre peasants or soldiers, single-handed."
" But consider that by accepting the offer of the miners
you are assured of a free pardon."
" Does this offer also come from the miners ? " asked the
other, with a laugh.
" I will not disguise from you the fact," replied the
stranger, with an air of mystery, " that it comes from an
important personage who is deeply interested in the in¬
surrection."
180
HANS OF ICELAND.
" And is this important personage so sure that he will
himself escape hanging ? "
" If you knew who he is, you would not shake your head
so significantly."
" Indeed ! Well, who is he ? "
" I may not tell you."
The small man stepped forward and clapped the
stranger on the shoulder, still with the same sardonic
SI166r
" Shall I tell you ? "
The man wrapped in the cloak gave a start; it was a
start of both fright and wounded pride. He was pre¬
pared for neither the monster's abrupt proposal, nor for
his savage familiarity.
" I am only laughing at you," added the brigand. " You
little guess that I know all. This important personage is
the Lord High Chancellor of Norway and Denmark; and
you yourself are the Lord High Chancellor of Norway
and Denmark."
It was indeed he. On reaching Arhar ruin, toward
which we left him journeying with Musdoemon, he had
been unwilling to intrust to any one else the task of
securing the brigand, by whom he was far from supposing
himself known and expected. Never, even after years
had elapsed, did Count d'Ahlefeld, with all his power and
all his diplomacy, discover how Hans of Iceland acquired
his information. Was it through Musdoemon's treachery ?
True, it was Musdoemon who suggested to the noble
count that it would be well to see the brigand in person ;
but what profit could he derive from his perfidy ? Had
the bandit captured upon some one of his numerous vic¬
tims, papers relating to the chancellor's schemes ? But
Frederic d'Ahlefeld was, with the sole exception of Mus¬
doemon, the only living being acquainted with his father's
plans, and frivolous as he was, he was not quite so sense¬
less as to expose such a secret. Moreover, he was in gar¬
rison at Munkholm, at least so the chancellor supposed.
Those who read the close of this scene, without being any
better able to solve the problem than was Count d'Ahle¬
feld, will see how much truth there was in this latter-
hypothesis.
One of Count d'Ahlefeld's most marked characteristics
UANfi OF ICELAND.
181
was his great presence of mind. When he heard himself
so abruptly named, he could not repress an exclamation
of surprise; but in the twinkling of an eye, his pale, proud
features lost their expression of fear and astonishment,
and recovered their usual calm composure.
" Well, yes," said he, " I will be frank with you; I am
indeed the chaneellor. But I hope you will be equally
frank with me."
A burst of laughter interrupted him.
" Have I waited to be urged to tell you my name, or to
tell you your own ? "
"Tell me with the same sincerity how you found
me out ? " ^
" Have you never heard that Hans of Iceland ean see
through mountains ? "
The count tried to insist.
" Consider me as a friend."
"Your hand. Count d'Ahlefeld," said the little man,
with brutal familiarity. Then he stared the minister in
the face, exclaiming: " Could our two souls escape from
our bodies at this moment, I fancy that Satan would
hesitate to decide which of the two belonged to the
monster."
The haughty noble bit his lip ; but between his fear of
the robber and his desire to secure him as his tool, he
managed to disguise his resentment.
" Do not imperil your own interests ; accept the com¬
mand of the rebellion, and trust to my gratitude."
" Chancellor of Norway, you count on the success of
your schemes, like an old woman who dreams of the gown
which she will spin from stolen hemp, while the cat's
claws tangle her spindle."
" Reflect once more, before you reject my offers."
" Once more, I, the brigand, say to you. Lord Chancellor
of both kingdoms, No! "
" I expected a different answer, after the eminent ser¬
vice which you have already rendered me."
" What service ? " asked the robber."
" Was it not you who murdered Captain Dispolsen ? "
replied the chancellor.
" That may be. Count d'Ahlefeld; I do not know him.
Who is he?" *
182
HANS OF ICELAND.
" What! did not the iron casket which he had in charge
fall to your share ? "
This question seemed to sharpen the robber's memory.
" Stay !" said he ; " I do remember that man and his
iron casket. It was on Urchtal Sands."
" At least," rejoined the chancellor," if you could restore
that casket to me, my gratitude would be unbounded.
Tell me what has become of that casket, for I am sure it
is in your possession."
The noble minister laid such stress upon this request .
that the brigand was struck by it.
" So, then, that iron casket is of the utmost importance
to your Grace, my Lord Chancellor ? "
"Yes."
" What shall my reward be if I tell you where it is ? "
" Anything that you may desire, my dear Hans."
" Well, I will not tell you."
" Pooh! you are joking! Think what a service you
can do me."
" That is exactly what I am thinking."
" I will insure you a vast fortune; I will ask your
pardon from the king."
"You had better beg your own from me," said the
bandit. " Look you. Lord Chancellor of Norway and
Denmark, the tiger does not devour the hyena. I will
permit you to leave my presence with your life, because
you are a scoundrel, and every instant that you live, every
thought of your heart, causes fresh misery for mankind
and fresh crime for yourself. But return not, or I may
teach you that my hatred spares no one, not even a
villain. As for your captain, do not flatter yourself that
it was on your account I slaughtered him ; it was his uni¬
form which doomed him, as it did this other wretch, whom
I did not murder to gratify you either, I assure you."
With these words, he seized the noble count by the
arm and dragged him toward the body lying in the
shadow. As he finished his protestations, the light from
the lantern fell upon this object. It was a mutilated
corpse, and was indeed dressed in the uniform of an officer
of the Munkholm Musketeers. The chancellor approached
it with a sense of horror. All at once his eye rested on the
pallid blood-stained face of the dead. The livid, half-
HANS OF ICELAND.
183
parted lips, the bristling hair, the discolored cheeks, and
lusterless eyes could not disguise that countenance from
him. He uttered a fearful shriek: " My God ! Frederic!
My son!"
Doubt not that hearts seemingly the most hardened still
conceal in their innermost recesses some trace of affection
unknown even to themselves, apparently hidden by vice
and passion, like a mysterious witness and a future avenger.
It may be said to exist, that it may some day make
crime acquainted with grief. It silently bides its time.
The wicked man bears it in his bosom and is unconscious
of it, because no ordinary affection is sufficient to pierce
the thick crust of selfishness and iniquity which covers it;
but let one of the rare and genuine sorrows of life appear
unawares, and it plunges a sharp-edged sword into the
dark region of that soul and probes its lowest depths.
Then the unknown sentiment of love is revealed to the
wretched criminal, all the more violent for its long re¬
pression, all the more painful from his lack of sensibility
because the sting of misfortune was forced to stab the
heart more deeply in order to reach it. Nature wakes
and casts aside her chains; she delivers the miscreant to
unwonted despair, to unheard-of torments ; he feels, com¬
pressed into a single instant, all the sufferings which he
has defied for years. The most various pangs rend him
simultaneously. His heart, burdened by dull amazement,
revolts to find itself a prey to convulsive agony. He
seems to experience the pains of hell while still in this
life, and something beyond despair is made clear to
him.
Count d'Ahlefeld loved his son without knowing it.
We say his son, because, being unaware of his wife's
guilt, as such he regarded Frederic, the direct heir to his
name. Supposing him still at Munkholm, he was far from
prepared to meet him in Arbar tower, and to find him
dead! But there he lay, bruised and bleeding; it was he,
impossible to doubt it. His emotions may be imagined
when a realizing sense of his love for his son unexpectedly
pierced his soul, together with the assurance that he was
lost to him forever. All the sensations so inadequately
described in these pages burst upon his heart at once like
so many claps of thunder. Stunned, as it were, by suiv
184
^A^^S OF ICELAND.
prise, terror, and despair, he cast himself upon the ground,
and wrung his hands, repeating in woful accents : " My
son ! my son! "
The brigand laughed. It was horrible to hear such
laughter mingled with the groans of a father looking upon
the dead body of his son.
" By my ancestor Ingulf! you may call. Count d'Ahle-
feld, but you cannot wake him."
All at once his cruel face darkened, and he said in a
melancholy voice: "Weep for your son, if you will; I
avenge mine."
The sound of footsteps hurrying along the gallery inter¬
rupted the words upon his lips; and as he turned in sur¬
prise, four tall men, with drawn swords, rushed into the
room ; a fifth, short and stout, followed, bearing a torch in
one hand and a sword in the other. He was wrapped in
a brown cloak, like that worn by the chancellor.
" My lord," he exclaimed, " we heard your voice, and
hastened to your assistance."
The reader has doubtless recognized Musdoemon and
the four armed retainers who formed the count's escort.
As the torchlight filled the room with its ruddy glow,
the five newcomers paused in horror-stricken dismay;
and it was indeed an awful sight. On the one hand, the
bloody remains of the wolf, the disfigured body of the
young officer; on the other, the father, with his wild eyes
and frantiQ shrieks; and beside him the fearful monster,
turning on his assailants a hideous front, indicative of
dauntless surprise.
At the sight of this unlooked-for reinforcement the
idea of vengeance took possession of the count, and roused
him from his despair.
" Death to that brigand! " he cried, drawing his sword ;
" he has murdered my son ! Kill him! kill him! "
" Has he murdered iVtr. Frederic ? " said Musdoemon;
and the torch in his hand did not reveal the slightest
change in his countenance.
" Kill him! kill him ! " repeated the frantic count.
And the whole six rushed upon the robber. He, sur¬
prised by this sudden attack, retreated toward the opening
which overhung the precipice, with a fierce roar, expressive
rather of rage than fear.
SANS OF ICELAND.
185
Six swords were directed against him, and his eyes
flamed forth greater fury, while his features wore a rnore
menacing expression than those of any of his aggressors.
He had grasped his stone ax, and, forced by the number
of his assailants to confine himself to defensive action,
whirled it round and round in his hand so rapidly that
the circle described, covered him like a shield. A myr¬
iad sparks flashed from the points of his assailants' swords
as they clashed against the edge of the hatchet; but
not a single blade touched him. And yet, exhausted by
his recent battle with the wolf, he lost ground impercep¬
tibly, and soon found himself driven close against the
door opening upon the abyss.
" Courage, friends !" shouted the count; " let us hurl
the monster over this precipice."
" Before I fall, the stars themselves shall fall," replied
the brigand.
But the aggressors redoubled their ardor and their
assurance as they saw that the small man was compelled
to descend one step of the flight which overhung the
abyss.
" Good! one effort more !" cried the lord chancellor;
"he needs must fall; push your advantage! Wretch,
you have committed your last crime. Courage, men I "
While with his right hand he continued his fearful
evolutions with the ax, the brigand, without deigning a
reply, with his left hand grasped a horn which hung at
his belt, and raising it to his lips, again and again blew a
long, hoarse blast, which was answered suddenly by a
roar from the gulf beneath.
A few instants later, as the count and his followers,
still pressing the little man hard, rejoiced that they had
driven him down a second step, the huge head of a white
bear appeared at the broken end of the staircase. Struck
dumb with amazement and fright, they shrank back. The
bear climbed the stairs with a lumbering gait, showing
his bloody jaws and sharp teeth as he did so.
" Thanks, good Friend!" cried the brigand. And tak¬
ing advantage of his enemy's surprise, he sprang upon
the back of his bear, who slowly descended the stairs
backwards, still keeping his threatening front turned
upon his master's foes.
186
HANS OF ICELAND.
Soon, recovering from their first astonishment, they
beheld the bear, carrying the brigand beyond their reach,
descend into the abyss, probably in the same way that he
ascended, by clinging to the trunks of trees and to pro¬
jecting rocks. They tried to roll great bowlders down
upon him; but before they could detach a single one of
those ancient granite fragments which had slumbered
there so long, the brigand and his strange steed had
vanished in a cave.
CHAPTER XXVI.
No, no,laugh no more. Look you, that which I thought so
humorous has its serious side as well, a very serious side, like
everything in this world ! Believe me, that word, chance, is
blasphemy ; nothing beneath the sun is the work of chance ; and
do you not see herein the purpose marked out by Providence ?—
Lessing : Emilia Galotti.
Yes, a deep design often lies at the root of what men '
call chance. There seems to be a mysterious hand which
marks the cause and purpose of events. We inveigh
against fickle fortune, against the strange accidents of our
lot, and lo ! chaos is made clear by a fearful flash of
lightning or a marvelous beam of light, and human
wisdom is humbled by the great lessons of fate.
If, for instance, when Frederic d'Ahlefeld displayed his
magnificent attire, his foolish complacency, and his pre¬
sumptuous pride, in some sumptuous apartment, to the
ladies of Copenhagen ; if some man, endowed with the
gift of second sight, had troubled his frivolous thoughts
by gloomy revelations ; if he had told him f,hat one day
the brilliant uniform of which he boasted should cause
his death ; that a monster in human shape should drink
his blood as greedily as he, careless epicure that he was,
drank the wines of France and Bohemia ; that the locks
upon which he could not lavish too many essences and
perfumes should sweep the dust of a cave haunted by
wild beasts ; that the arm which he so gracefully offered to
the fair ladies of Charlottenburg should be flung to a bear
like a half-gnawed chicken-bone,—how would Frederic
have answered these dismal prophecies ? With a laugh
HANS OF ICELAND.
187
and a pirouette ; and, more frightful still, most sensible
men would have applauded his reckless conduct
Let us consider his destiny more closely. Is it not
strange to find that the crime of Count and Countess
d'Ahlefeld met with such fitting punishment ? They
wove an infamous plot against the daughter of a prisoner;
this unfortunate girl by a mere chance found a protector,
who saw fit to remove their son, charged by them to carry
out their abominable scheme. This son, their only hope,
was sent far from the scene of his purposed villainy ; and
hardly had he reached his destination, when another
avenging chance caused his death. Thus in their attempt
to bring dishonor upon an innocent yet detested young
girl, they plunged their own guilty yet adored son into
the oblivion of the grave. The wretched pair were
made miserable by their own hands.
f
' CHAPTER XXVII.
Ah, here comes our lovely countess ! Forgive me, Madam, if
I may not have the honor of a visit from you to-day. I am busy.
Another time, dear Countess, another time ; but to-day I will not
detain you longer.—The Prince and Orsina.
The day after his visit to Munkholni, the governor
of Throndhjem ordered his traveling carriage to be made
ready very early in the morning, hoping to start off before
Countess d'Ahlefeld was awake ; but we have already
observed that her slumbers were light.
The general had just signed his final instructions to the
bishop, into whose hands the government was to be com¬
mitted during his absence. He rose, put on his fur-lined
coat, and was about to leave the room, when the usher
announced the chancellor's wife.
This piece of ill luck confused the old soldier, who
could laugh at the fiery rain of a hundred guns, but not
at the artifices of a woman. However, he took leave of
the wicked creature with a tolerably good grace, and dis¬
guised his annoyance until she whispered in his ear with
that crafty look which would fain seem confidential,
"Well, noble General,what did he say 1"'
188
BANS OF ICELAXB.
« Who,—Peel ? He said that the carriage was ready."
" I mean the prisoner of Munkholm, General."
« Oh! "
" Did he answer your questions satisfactorily ? "
"Why— Yes, to be sure. Countess," said the much
embarrassed governor.
" Did you find proofs that he was concerned in the con¬
spiracy among the miners ? "
The general involuntarily exclaimed, "Noble lady, he
is innocent."
He stopped short, for he knew that he had uttered the
conviction of his heart, not of his head.
" He is innocent! " repeated the countess, with a look
of consternation and incredulity; for she trembled lest
Schumacher had really proved to the governor the in¬
nocence which it was so much to the chancellor's interest
to deny.
The governor had had time to reflect; he answered the
persistent gentlewoman in a tone which quieted her fears,
for it revealed his doubt and anxiety.
"Innocent— Yes, if you choose—"
" If I choose. General I" And the wicked woman
laughed aloud.
Her laughter offended the governor, who said, " By your
leave. Countess, I will report my interview with the ex-
chancellor to the viceroy." Then he bowed low, and went
down to the courtyard, where his carriage awaited him.
"Yes," said Countess d'Ahlefeld, as she returned to her
rooms ; " go, my knight-errant, for your absence rids us of
the protector of our enemies. Go ; for your departure is
the signal for my Frederic's return. I wonder how you
dared to send the handsomest young man in Copenliagen
to those horrid mountains! Luckily, it will be easy
enough now for me to have him recalled."
At this thought she turned to her favorite attendant.
"Lisbeth, my dear, send to Bergen for two dozen of
those little combs which our elegant young men are wear¬
ing in their hair, inquire for the famous Scudery's last
novel, and see that my dear Frederic's monkey is washed
in rose-water every morning, without fail."
" What! my gracious mistress," asked Lisbeth, " is there
a chance that Mr. Frederic will come back ? "
HAXS OF ICELAND.
189
" Yes, indeed; and we must do everything that he
wishes, so that he may be glad to see me again. I must
arrange a surprise for him."
Poor mother!
CHAPTER XXVIII.
_ Bernard hurries along the shores of the Arlanza. He is like a
lion rushing from his den, seeking the hunters, and resolved to
conquer them or die. The brave and resolute Spaniard sets
forth. With a quick step, in his hand a heavy spear, in which
he puts his trust, Bernard traverses the ruins of Arlanza.—
Old Spanish Romance.
Ox descending from the tower from whose summit he had
seen Munkholm light, Ordener looked in every direction,
until he was exhausted, for his poor guide, Benignus Spia-
gudry. He called him repeatedly, but only echo an¬
swered. Surprised but not alarmed by this inexplicable
disappearance, he attributed it to some panic which had
seized upon the timid keeper, and after generously blam¬
ing himself for having left him, even for a few moments,
he decided to spend the night upon the cliff, in order to
give him time to return. Then he ate something, and
wrapping himself in his mantle, laid down by the dying
embers, kissed Ethel's ringlet, and soon fell asleep; for an
anxious heart cannot keep awake a man whose conscience
is clear.
At sunrise he rose, but found no trace of Spiagudry
except his wallet and cloak, which had been left in the
tower, showing that his flight had been very hasty. Then,
despairing of his return, at least to Oelmoe Cliff, Ordener
resolved to set off without him, for it was on the next day
that he hoped to meet Hans of Iceland at Walderhog.
It has been stated in the earlier chapters of this story
tliat Ordener had accustomed himself to the hardships
incident to a roving and adventurous life. Having already
traveled through northern Norway several times, he did
not need a guide, now that he knew where to find the
robber. He accordingly turned his lonely steps toward
the northwest, no longer having Benignus Spiagudry at
his side to tell him iust how much quartz or spar each hill
contained, what traditions were connected with every ruin,
100
HANS OF ICELAND.
and whether this or that gaping chasm was caused by an
ancient flood or by some volcanic action. He walked a
whole day through those mountains which, proceeding at
intervals like foot-hills fi'om the principal chain tra¬
versing the length of Norway, slope gradually down to the
sea; so that the coast of that country is a mere succession
of promontories and fjords, while inland it is nothing but
a series of mountains and valleys, a strange conformation,
which has caused Norway to be compared to the skeleton
of a great fish.
It was no easy matter to travel in such a region. Some¬
times he was forced to follow the stony bed of a dry stream,
sometimes to cross, by an unsteady bridge made of a tree-
trunk, over a road which torrents born but the day before
had chosen for their bed.
Sometimes, too, Ordener would journey for hours with¬
out seeing any sign of the presence of man in these wild
places, save an occasional glimpse of the sails of a wind¬
mill upon the top of a hill, or the sound of a distant
forge, whose smoke blew hither and thither like a black
plume, as the wind shifted this way and that.
Now and again he met a peasant mounted on a little
gray pony, its head down, and scarcely more untamed
than its master; or a dealer m furs and skins, seated in
his sledge, drawn by reindeer', a long rope fastened behind,
the end covered with knots, meant to frighten away
wolves, as it rebounded from the pebbles in the road.
If Ordener asked this trader the way to Walderhog
cave, the traveling merchant, familiar only with the
names and positions of the places to which his business
took him, would answer indifferently: " Keep to the
northwest till you come to Hervalyn village, then cross
Dodlysax ravine, and by night you will reach Surb,
which is only two miles from Walderhog."
If Ordener put the same question to the peasant, the
latter, deeply imbued with the traditions of the country
and the fireside tales, would shake his head again and
again, and stop his gray horse, as he said ; "Walderhog!
Walderhog cave ! There the stones sing, the dry bones
dance, and the demon of Iceland dwells; it cannot be to
Walderhog cave that your worship wishes to go? "
" Yes, indeed," Ordener would reply.
HANS! OF ICELAND.
ini
" Has your worsliii) lost your mother, or has fire de¬
stroyed your farm, or has one of your neighbors stolen
your fat pig ? "
"No, truly," the 5'oung man would answer.
" Then some magician must have cast a spell over your
worship's senses."
« My friend, I asked you to tell me the way to Walder-
hog."
" I am trying to answer your question, sir. Farewell.
Keep to the north! I can tell you how to go there, but
I do not know how you will get back."
And the peasant would ride off, crossing himself as he
went.
To the gloomy monotony of the road was added the
inconvenience of a fine, penetrating rain, which took pos¬
session of the sky toward noonday, and increased the
difficulties of the way. No song-bird dared venture
forth; and Ordener, chilled to the bone beneath his cloak,
saw only the goshawk and the falcon hover above his head,
or the kingfisher fly up from the reeds of a pond Avith a
fish in its claws, startled by his tread.
It was after dark when the young traveler, after mak¬
ing his way through the forest of aspens and beeches
which lies close to Dodlysax ravine, reached the village of
Surb, where (as the reader may remember) Spiagudry
had asked leave to establish his headquarters. The
smell of tar and the charcoal smoke told Ordener that he
was approaching a seafaring population. He advanced
to the first hut which he could see through the dark¬
ness. According to Norwegian custom, the low, narrow
entrance was closed by a large, transparent fish-skin,
tinged at this moment by the flickering red light of the fire.
He knocked on the wooden doorpost, saying,—
" It is a traveler!"
" Come in, come in," answered a voice from within.
At the same instant an eager hand raised the fish-skin,
and Ordener was admitted to the cone-shaped home of a
Norwegian 'longshore fisherman. It was a sort of cir¬
cular tent made of wood and earth, in the center of which
blazed a fire, where the purple glow of turf Avas mixed
with the Avhite jight of the pine. Beside this fire the fisher¬
man, his Avife, and two children dressed in rags were seated
192
EAX^ OF ICELAND.
at a table set with wooden plates and earthen cups. On
the opposite side of the fire was a pile of nets and oars; a
couple of reindeer were asleep on a bed of dried leaves
and skins, which by its ample size seemed intended also
as a resting-place for the family and any guests whom it
might please Heaven to send them. It took more than
one glance to make out the arrangement of the hut; for
a thick, pungent smoke, which found but scanty outlet
through a hole in the pointed roof, A\Tapped everything
in a misty but almost impenetrable veil.
As soon as Ordener crossed the threshold, the fisherman
and his wife rose, and returned his greeting in a frank and
friendly manner. Norwegian peasants welcome travelers
perhaps as much from a lively feeling of curiosity inherent
in their nature as from their native mclination to hospi¬
tality.
" Sir," said the fisherman, " you must be cold and
hungry; here are fire to dry your cloak and excellent
bark bread to satisfy your appetite. Afterward your
Avorship may be willing to tell us who you are, Avhere
you come from, where you are going, and what stories
the gossips relate in your native place."
" Yes, sir," added his wife; "and you might add to
that bark bread—which, as my husband says, is excellent
—a delicious bit of salt-fish ; seasoned with whale oil. Sit
down, stranger."
" And if your worship does not like Saint TIsuph's *
fare," added the man, " and will have patience for a few
moments, I can promise you a splendid piece of venison, or
at least a pheasant's Aving. "We are expecting a visit
from the best hunter in the three provinces. Isn't that
so, good Maase ? "
" iMaase," the name Avhich the fisherman gave his wife,
is a NorAvegian word meaning "sea-gull." The Avdfe did
not seem in the least offended, either because it Avas really
her name, or because she took it as a term of endearment.
" The best hunter! I should say so," she answered
AAuth great emphasis. "He means my brother, the fa¬
mous Kennybol. God bless all his undertakings! He
has come to spend a fcAv days with us, and you shall
* The patron saint of fishermen.
HANS OF ICELAND.
193
drink a mug of good beer with him. He is a traveler like
- you."
" Many thanks, my kind hostess," said Ordener, with
a smile ; " but I must be content with your tempting salt
fish and a bit of this bark bread. I have not time to
wait for your brother, the mighty hunter. I must set
off again immediately."
Good Maase, flattered by the stranger's praises of her
fish and her brother, and vexed at his hasty departure,
exclaimed: "You are very kind, sir. But why should
you leave us so soon ? "
" I must."
" Must you venture among these mountains at this hour
and in such weather ? "
" My business is important."
These answers roused the native curiosity of the young
man's entertainers as much as they excited their surprise.
The fisherman rose, and said: "You are in the house
of Christopher Buldus Braal, fisherman, of the village of
Surb."
The woman added : " Maase Kennybol is his wife and
servant."
When Norwegian peasants wish to ask a stranger's
name in polite style, it is their custom to tell him their own.
Ordener answered:." And I am a traveler, who is
neither sure of the name he bears nor of the road he
travels."
This strange reply did not seem to satisfy fisher Braal.
" By the crown of Gorman the Old," said he, " I did
not suppose there was more than one man in Norway just
now who was not sure of his name. I mean the noble
Baron Thorwick, who is to change his name, they say, to
Count Danueskiold, on account of his famous marriage to
the chancellor's daughter. At least, dear Maase, that's
the latest news from Throndhjem. I congratulate you,
stranger, upon this likeness between you and the son of
the viceroy, the great Count Guldenlew."
" As your worship," added the wife, her face beaming
with curiosity, " does not seem able to tell us anything
about yourself, can you not tell us something about what
is going on ju^ now, for instance, something about this
wonderful marriage of which my husband speaks ? "
194
OF ICELAND.
"Yes," rejoined her husband, with a self-important air,
" that's the very latest news. Within a month the vice¬
roy's son will marry the chancellor's daughter."
" I doubt it," said Ordener.
"You doubt it, sir! I assure you that the thing is
(ertain. I have it on the best authority. The fellow
\\'ho told me had it from Mr. Poel, the favorite servant
of the noble Baron Thorwick,—that is, the noble Count
Danneskiold. Can any storm have troubled the waters
within the week? Has this grand match been broken
off?" '
« I think so," replied the young man, smiling.
" If that is so, sir, I am wrong. Never light the fire to
fry the fish before it is in the net. But have they really
quarreled ? Who told you so ? "
"Nobody," said Ordener. "I merely imagined so."
At this frank confession the fisherman could not help
transgressing the laws of Norwegian courtesy by a loud
burst of laughter.
" A thousand pardons, sir. But it is easy to see that
you are indeed a traveler, and probably a stranger. Do
you fancy that things will turn out as you happen to
wish, and that the sky will be clear or cloudy at your
caprice ? "
Here the fisherman, well versed in the affairs of the
nation, as all Norse peasants are, began to explain to
Ordener why this marriage could not fail to take place:
it was essential to the interest of the d'Ahlefeld family ;
the viceroy could not refuse the king, who desired it;
besides, it was said that the future husband and wife
were very much in love. In a word, fisher Braal could
not doubt that the match would come off; he only wished
he was as sure of killmg next day that confounded dogfish
which infested Master-Bick pond.
Ordener was little inclined to carry on a political dis¬
cussion with so uncouth a statesman, and was delighted
when the arrival of another guest relieved him of all
embarrassment.
" It is he ; it is my brother!" cried old Maase.
And no less event than the arrival of her brother could
have diverted her from the rapt admiration with which
she listened to her husband's lengthy discourse.
HANS OF ICELAND.
195
The latter, while the two children threw themselves
noisily upon their uncle's neck, quietly offered him his
hand, saying,—
"Welcome, brother."
Then, turning to Ordener: " Sir, this is our brother,
the famous hunter Kennybol, from the mountains of
Kiolen."
" A hearty greeting to you all," said the mountaineer,
taking off his bearskin cap. " Brother, I've had as bad
luck in hunting upon your coast as you would probably
bave had if you had gone fishing in our mountains. I
think I could sooner fill my game-bag if I chased elves
and goblins in the misty forests of Queen Mab. Sister
Maase, you are the first sea-mew whom I have caught
sight of to-day. Here, friends, God keep you ! but this
wretched grouse is all that the best hunter in the province
of Throndhjem has got in a whole day's tramp through
the heather in this weather."
With these words he drew from his pouch and laid on
the table a white ptarmigan, declaring that it was not
worth a shot.
" But," he muttered between his teeth, " my faithful
arquebuse, you shall soon bunt far bigger game. If you
can bring down no more chamois or elk skins, you shall
make holes in green jackets and red jerkins."
These words, but half heard, struck the curious Maase.
" Eh! " asked she; " what did you say, brother ? "
" I said that there was always a goblin dancing under
a woman's tongue."
" You are right, brother Kennybol," cried the fisherman.
"Eve's daughters are all curious, like their mother.
Weren't you talking of green jackets ?"
" Brother Braal," replied the hunter, with some spirit,
"I trust my secrets to no one but my musket, because I
am sure that they they will never be repeated."
"There's talk in the village," boldly continued the
fisherman, " of a revolt among the miners. Do you know
anything about it, brother ? "
The mountaineer picked up his cap and pulled it over
his eyes, with a sidelong look at the stranger; then he
bent toward thq fisherman and said in a low, stern tone:
" iSilence!"
19G
HANS OF ICELAND.
The fisherman shook his head several times.
« Brother Kennybol, the fish may be silent, but it falls
into the net all the same."
There was a short pause. The two brothers exchanged
meaning glances ; the children picked the feathers from
the ptarmigan as it lay on the table; the good wife
listened, and hoped to guess more than was actually said;
and Ordener studied them all.
" If you have but meager fare to-day," suddenly ob¬
served the hunter, evidently anxious to change the sub¬
ject, " it shall not be so to-morrow. Brother Braal, catch
the king of fish, if you can, for 1 promise you plenty of
bear's grease to dress it."
" Bear's grease! " cried Maase. " Has any one seen a
bear in the neighborhood ? Patrick, Regner, my boys, I
forbid you to leave the house. A bear! "
"Make yourself easy, sister; you will have nothing
to fear from him after to-morrow. Yes, it was really
a bear that I saw about two miles away from Surb,—
a white bear. He seemed to be carrying off a man, or
rather an animal. But no, it may have been a goat¬
herd, for goatherds dress in the skins of animals; how¬
ever, I was not near enough to tell. ^Yhat amazed me,
was that he carried his prey on his back, and not in his
teeth."
" Really, brother ? "
"Yes; and the creature must have been dead, for it
made no attempt to defend itself."
"But," sagely inquired the fisherman, "if it were dead,
how did it stay on the bear's back ? "
" That's more than I can say. Never mind; it shall be
the bear's last meal. As I entered the village, I engaged
six strong companions, and to-morrow, sister Maase, I will
bring you the handsomest white fur that ever ran over
mountain snow."
" Take care, brother," said the woman ; " you have seen
strange things, truly. That bear may be the Devil."
" Are you mad ? " interrupted the mountaineer, Avith a
laugh; " the Devil change himself into a bear, indeed!
Into a cat or a monkey I grant you ; but to a bear! Oh,
by Saint Eldom the exorciser, you're worse than any child
or old woman, with your superstition!"
BANS OF ICELAND.
197
The poor woman hung her head.
" Brother, you were my lord and master before my
revered husband cast his eyes upon me; do as your
guardian angel bids you."
" But," the fisherman asked the mountaineer, " where
did you meet with this bear ? "
" Between Lake Miosen and Walderhog."
"Walderhog !" said the woman, crossing herself.
"Walderhog!" repeated Ordener.
" But, brother," rejoined the fisherman; " I hope you
were not traveling toward Walderhog."
" I! Heaven forbid; it was the bear."
"Shall you go there to-morrow in search of him?"
broke in the terrified Maase.
" No, truly; how can you suppose, friends, that even a
bear would venture to take refuge in a cave where—"
He stopped short, and all three made the sign of the
cross.
" You are right," replied the fisherman; "wild beasts
would be warned away by their instinct."
" My good friends," said Ordener, " what is there so
frightful about this Walderhog cave ? "
They looked at one another in stupid surprise, as if
they could not understand such a question.
"Is that where King Walder's tomb is?" added the
young man.
"Yes," replied the woman; "a stone tomb which
sings."
" And that's not all," said the fisherman.
"No," she added; "the bones of the dead dance there
by night."
" And that's not all," said the mountaineer.
All were silent, as if they dared not go on.
"Well," asked Ordener, "what else is there that is
supernatural ? "
"Young man," said the mountaineer, gravely, "you
should not speak so lightly ; when you see an old gray
wolf like me shudder."
The young man answered, with a gentle smile: " Still,
I should like to' know all the marvels which occur in
this Walderhog cave; for that is exactly where I am
going." •
198
HANS OF ICELAND.
These words seemed to turn his three hearers into
stone.
"To Walderhog! Heavens! are you going to Walder-
hog!"
"And he says that," rejoined the fisherman, "just as I
might say I'm going to Loevig to sell my codfish, or
to Ralph's meadow for herring. To Walderhog ! Great
Heavens!"
" Poor young man I" cried the wife; " were you born
Avithout a guardian angel? Have you no patron saint?
Alas ! it must be so; for you do not even seem to know
your own name."
" And what motive," broke in the mountaineer, " can
lead your worship to that fearful spot ? "
" I have a question to ask," answered Ordener.
The astonishment of his hosts grew with their curiosity.
" See here, stranger; you do not seem to be familiar
with this part of the country. Your worship is doubtless
mistaken; it cannot be to Walderhog that you wish to go."
" Besides," added the mountaineer, " if you want to
speak with any human being, you will find none there."
" None but the demon," rejoined the woman.
" The demon! What demon ? "
"Yes," she added ; " the one for whom the tomb sings
and the dead dance."
" Then you do not know, sir," said the fisherman, drop¬
ping his voice and approaching Ordener,—" you do not
know that Walderhog cave is the favorite abode of,—"
The woman stopped him.
" Husband, do not speak that name ; it brings ill luck."
" Whose abode ? " asked Ordener.
" That of Beelzebub incarnate," said Kennybol.
" Really, my kind hosts, I know not what you mean.
I was surely told that Walderhog was the haunt of Hans
of Iceland."
A triple cry of terror arose.
"Well!—Then you do know!—He is the demon we
mean!"
The woman drew her woolen kerchief over her face,
and called on all the saints to witness that it was not she
who uttered that name.
When the flsherinau had somewhat recovered from hia
HANS OF ICELAND.
199
surprise, he looked steadily at Ordener, as if there were
something about that young man which he could not
comprehend.
" I did not expect, stranger, that even if I lived still
longer than my father, who died at the age of one hun- ,
dred and twenty, I should ever have to show the road to
Walderhog to any human being possessed of his senses
and believing in God."
" Surely not," cried Maase ; "your worship will not go
to that accursed cave; for if one only step foot inside, he
* must make a compact with the Devil! "
" I must go, my kind hosts, and the greatest service
that you can do me is to show me the shortest road
there."
" The shortest way to reach the place where you wish
to go," said the fisherman," is to throw yourself from the
top of the nearest rock into the next torrent."
" Should I reach the same end," quietly asked Ordener,
" by preferring a useless death to a profitable danger ? "
Braal shook his head, while his brother looked scruti-
nizingly at the young adventurer.
" I understand," suddenly exclaimed the fisherman;
" you want to earn the thousand crowns reward which the
lord mayor offers for the head of this Iceland demon."
Ordener smiled.
" Young sir," added the fisherman, with deep emotion,
" take my advice ; give up your scheme. I am old and
poor, and I would not sell the remnant of my life for a
thousand crowns if I had but one day left."
The woman, with a beseeching, compassionate look,
watched the effect of her husband's entreaties. Ordener
made haste to reply: " It is a much higher motive which
leads me to seek this robber whom you call a demon; it
is for the sake of others, not my own—"
The mountaineer, who had not taken his eyes fromOr-
dener, interrupted him.
" I understand you now. I know why you seek the
demon of Iceland."
" I wish to force him to fight," said the young man.
" That's it," said Kennybol; " you are intrusted with
important int^'ests, are you not?"
" So I just said."
200
HANS OF ICELAND.
The mountaineer approached the young man with an
air of great intelligence, and to his utter amazement whis¬
pered in his ear: "You come from Count Schumacker,
from Griffenfeld, do you not ? "
. "Good man," he exclaimed, "how did you know
that?"
And, indeed, it was hard for him to guess how a N^or-
wegian mountaineer came to know a secret which he had
confided to no one, not even to General Levin.
Kennybol leaned toward him.
" I wish you success," he observed in the same mysteri¬
ous whisper. "You are a noble young man to labor thus
for the oppressed."
Ordener's surprise was so great that he could scarcely
find words to inquire how the mountaineer had learned
the purpose of his journey.
" Silence! " said Kennybol, putting his finger to his lip.
" I hope that you may gain all that you desire from the
dweller in Walderhog; my arm, like yours, is loyal to the
prisoner of Munkholm."
Then, raising his voice, before Ordener could answer, he
added: " Brother, dear sister Maase, regard this worthy
youth as another brother. Come, I think supper is
ready."
" What!" interrupted Maase, " have you persuaded his
worship to give up his plan for visiting the demon ? "
" Sister, pray that no harm may come to him. He is a
noble and worthy young man. Come, brave sir, take
some food and a little rest beneath our roof; to-morrow
I will show you your road, and we will set out in search,
—you of the Devil, and I of my bear."
CHAPTER XXIX.
Comrade, ah ! comrade, what comrade's son art thou ? From
what race canst thou have sprung to dare attack Fafnir thus ?—
Edda.
The first rays of the rising sun were just reddening
the highest peak of the rocks upon the seacoast, when
the fisherman, who had come before the dawn to cast his
HANS OF ICELAND.
201
nets off the shore opposite the mouth of Walderhog cave,
saw a figure wrapped in a cloak or shroud descend from
the rocks, and disappear beneath the much-dreaded arched
roof of the cavern. Struck with terror, he commended
his boat and his soul to Saint TJsuph, and ran to tell his
frightened family that he had seen one of the ghosts
which dwell in the palace of Hans of Iceland return to
the cave at daybreak.
This ghost, thenceforth the theme and dread of many
a long winter evening, was no other than Ordener, the
noble, son of the Norwegian viceroy, who, while both
kingdoms fancied him absorbed in paying tender atten¬
tions to his haughty betrothed, had come alone and un¬
known to risk his life for her to whom he had given his
heart and his future, for the daughter of a proscribed
man.
Evil omens, sad forebodings, had thus far accompanied
him. He had left the fisherman and his family, and as
they parted, good Maase knelt and prayed for him,
Kennybol and his six comrades, who had pointed out the
right road, quitted him within half a mile of Walderhog,
and those dauntless hunters who sallied forth to face
a bear with a laugh on their lips, gazed in terror
upon the fearless traveler as he followed that unhallowed
path.
The young man entered Walderhog cave as he might
have entered a long-wish-for haven. He felt a transport
of delight as he thought that he was about to accomplish
the object of his life, and that in a few moments he might
perhaps shed his last drop of blood for his Ethel. About
to attack a brigand dreaded by an entire province, it
might be a monster, a very demon, it was not that fright¬
ful image which filled his fancy ; he saw only the figure
of the sweet captive maid, praying perhaps for him b^ore
her prison altar. Had the object of his devotion been
any other than it was, he might have weighed for an in¬
stant, only to scorn them, the dangers in search of which
he had journeyed so far; but what room is there for re-
fiection in a youthful heart throbbing with the double
stimulus of heroic sacrifice and noble love ?
He advanced, proudly into the vaulted cavern, which
echoed and re-echoed the sound of his footsteps, not deign-
202
HANS OF ICELAND.
ing even a glance at the stalactites and the century-old
columns of basalt which towered above him amid mosses,
lichen, and ivy,—a confused medley of weird forms, from
which the superstitious credulity of the Norwegian coun¬
try folk had more than once created hosts of evil spirits
or long processions of ghosts.
With the same indifference he passed the tomb of
King Walder, to which so many mournful legends cling,
and he heard no voice save the long-drawn sigh of the
north wind through those gloomy galleries.
He traversed winding passages, dimly lighted by crev¬
ices half stopped with grass and heather. Ever and anon
he stumbled over strange objects, which rolled from be¬
neath his foot with a hollow sound, and assumed in the
darkness the shape of broken skulls or long rows of white
teeth with fleshless gums.
But his soul was undismayed. He was only surprised
that he had not yet encountered the much-dreaded inhab¬
itant of this horrible cave.
He reached a sort of circular hall, hcAvn from the rock.
Here the subterranean road Avhich he had thus far fol¬
lowed came to an end, and the rocky walls were without
exit, save for a few wide fissures, through which he saw
the mountains and woods outside.
Amazed that he should have thus traversed the fatal
cavern in vain, he began to despair of finding the brigand.
A singular monument in the middle of the underground
hall caught his attention. Tiiree long, massive bowlders,
standing upright, supported a fourth, broad, and square,
as three pillars might upliold a roof. Beneath this gigan¬
tic tripod was an altar, also formed of a single block of
granite, with a round hole in the middle of Its upper sur¬
face. Ordener recognized it as one of those colossal Dru-
Idic structures which he had often seen in traveling
through Norway, the most amazing instances being found
in France, at Lokmariaker and Karnak,—wondrous fabrics
which have grown old, resting upon the earth like tents
pitched for a day, and made solid by their mere weight.
The young man, lost in thought, leaned mechanically
against this altar, whose stone lips were stained dark
brown, so deep had they drunk of the blood of human
victims.
TIANS OF ICELAND.
S03
All at once he started. A voice, apparently proceeding
from the stone, fell upon liis ear: " Young man, you come
to Ihis place with feet which touch the tomb."
He rose quickly, and his hand sought his sword, while
an echo, clear but faint as the voice of a dying man, re¬
peated: "Young man, you come to this place with feet
which touch the tomb." At this instant a hideous face
appeared on the other side of the Druid altar, a face
crowned with red hair, and disfigured by a brutal sneer.
"Young man," it again repeated, "you come to this
place with feet which touch the tomb."
" And with a hand which touches a sword," calmly re¬
sponded Ordener.
The monster emerged from beneath the altar, revealing
his thick-set, muscular limbs, his wild, blood-stained dress,
his hooked hands, and his heavy stone ax.
" It is I," he cried, with a growl like that of a wild beast.
" And I," answered Ordener.
" I expected you."
" I did more," replied the bold young man; " I sought
you out."
The brigand folded his arms.
" Do you know who I am ? "
"Yes."
" And you are not frightened ? "
" Not now."
"Then you were afraid to come here?" And the
monster tossed his head with a look of triumph.
"Afraid I might not find you."
"You bid me defiance, and your feet have trami)led on
dead bodies!"
" To-morrow they may tread upon your own."
The little man quivered with rage. Ordener stood mo¬
tionless, in an attitude of haughty calm.
" Take care ! " muttered the brigand ; " I will burst
upon you and rend you as Norwegian hailstones do a lady's
parasol."
" Such a shield would be all-suflficient for me."
Something in Ordener's eye seemed to daunt the mon¬
ster. He plucked the hairs from his mantle, as a tiger
might devour grass before it springs upon its prey.
"You teach me what pity means," he said.
204
BANS OF ICELAND.
" And you teach me what it is to scorn."
"Child, your voice is soft, your face is fair, like the
voice and the face of a girl; what death will you choose ? "
"Your own."
The small man laughed.
" Know you not that I am a demon, that my spirit is
the spirit of Ingulf the Destroyer ? "
" I know that you are a robber, that you commit murder
for the love of gold."
" You are wrong," broke in the monster; " it is for love
of blood."
"Were you not paid by the d'Ahlefelds to slay Captain
Dispolsen ? "
"What are you talking about? What names are
these ? "
" Do you not know Captain Dispolsen, whom you killed
on Urchtal Sands?"
" That may be, but I have forgotten him, as I shall
forget you three days hence."
" Do you not know Count d'Ahlefeld, who paid you to
steal an iron casket from the captain ? "
" D'Ahlefeld! Stay ; yes, I know him. I drank his
son's blood only yesterday, from my son's skull."
Ordener shuddered with horror.
"Were you not content with your wages?"
" What wages ? " asked the brigand.
" Hark ye; the sight of you offends me; I must have
done. You stole, a week since, an iron casket from one
of your victims, a Munkholm officer, did you not ? "
At the word " Munkholm " the brigand started.
"An officer from Munkholm ? " he muttered. Then he
asked, with a look of surprise, " Are you too an officer ■-
from Munkholm ? "
" No," said Ordener.
" So much the worse!" and his face clouded.
" Enough of this," rejoined the persistent Ordener;
" where is the casket that you stole from the captain ? "
The little man meditated for a moment.
"By Ingulf! here's a paltry iron box that occupies
many minds. I will promise you there'll not be so much
search for that which holds your bones, if ever they be
collected in a coffin."
HANS OF ICELAND.
205
These words, as they showed Ordener that the robber
knew the casket to which he referred, revived his hope of
obtaining it.
"Tell me what you did with that casket. Is it in
Count d'Ahlefeld's possession ? "
" No."
"You lie, for you laugh."
" Believe what you will. "What matters it to me ? "
The monster had assumed a mocking air which awak¬
ened Ordener's suspicions. He saw that there was noth¬
ing to be done but to rouse him to fury if possible, or to
intimidate him.
" Hear me," said he, raising his voice; " you must give
me that casket."
The other answered with a savage sneer.
"You must give it to me! " the young man repeated in
tones of thunder.
" Are you accustomed to issuing orders to buffaloes and
bears ? " replied the monster, still sneering.
"I would give this command to the very Devil in
hell."
" You may do so ere long, if you like."
Ordener drew his sword, which gleamed in the dark¬
ness like a flash of lightning.
" Obey me ! "
" Nay," cried Hans, brandishing his ax; "I might have
broken your bones and sucked your blood when you first
appeared, but I restrained my wrath; I was curious to
see the sparrow attack the vulture."
" Wretch," exclaimed Ordener, " defend yourself !"
" 'Tis the flrst time I was ever told to do so," muttered
the brigand, gnashing his teeth.
With these words, he sprang upon the granite altar
and gathered himself together, like a leopard awaiting the
hunter on a high cliff, ready to spring upon him un¬
awares.
From this vantage-ground he glared at the young man,
apparently seeking the best side from which to attack him.
All would have been over with Ordener had he hesitated
an instant. But he gave the brigand no time to consider,
and threw himself violently upon him, aiming the point
of his sword at*his face.
200
nANS OF ICELAND.
Then began the most fearful fight which imagination
can picture. The little man, standing upon the altar, like
a statue on its pedestal, looked like one of those horrid
idols which, in barbarous ages, received in that same spot
impious sacrifices and sacrilegious offerings.
His movements were so rapid that upon whatever side
Ordener attacked him, he always met the monster face to
face, and encountered his blade. He would have been
hewn in pieces at the first onslaught, had he not had the
lucky forethought to wrap his mantle loosely around his
left arm, so that the greater part of his furious opponent's
blows were foiled by this fioating shield. Thus for some
moments both made useless though tremendous efforts
to womid each other. The small man's fiery gray eyes
seemed starting from their sockets. Surprised to meet
with such vigorous and bold resistance from a foe appar¬
ently so feeble, his savage sneers changed to silent rage.
The brutal immobility of the monster's features, and Or-
dener's dauntless composure contrasted strangely with the
swiftness of their motions and the vigor of their attack.
Not a sound was heard but the clash of weapons, the young
man's quick steps, and the hurried breathing of both ad¬
versaries, when the little man uttered a fearful roar. The
blade of his ax had caught in the folds of the cloak. He
braced himself; he shook his arm frantically, but only
succeeded in entangling the handle with the blade in the
clinging stuff, which, with every fresh effort, wound itself
closer and closer about it.
The dreadful brigand felt the young man's steel upon
his breast.
" Once more I ask you," said the triumphant Ordener,
" will you give me that iron casket which you stole like a
coward ? "
The small man was silent for an instant; then he said,
with a roar : " Curse you, no ! "
Ordener rejoined, still retaining his victorious and
threatening attitude : " Consider!"
" No ; I tell you no !" repeated the brigand.
The noble youth lowered his sword.
" Well," said he, "release your ax from the folds of my
mantle, and let us fight it out."
With a disdainful laugh, the monster answered :—
His movements werg so rapid that upon whatever side Ordener at¬
tacked him, he always met the monster face to face. Page 206.
Hans of Iceland.
nANS OF ICELAND.
207
" Child, you play the generous man, as if I wanted your
indulgence ! "
Before the astonished Ordener could turn his head, the
brigand had placed his foot on the shoulder of his loyal
victor, and at one bound stood twelve paces away from
him. With another leap he sprang at Ordener, and hung
his entire weight upon him, as the panther hangs with
teeth and claws to the flanks of the royal lion. His nails
dug deep into the young man's shoulders, his bony knees
were pressed into his flesh, while his fierce face showed
Ordener a bloody mouth and cruel teeth ready to tear
him limb from limb. He ceased to speak; no human
words issued from his heaving chest; a low roar mingled
with hoarse, passionate yells alone expressed his rage.
He was more hideous than a wild beast, more monstrous
than a demon; he was a man deprived of all semblance
of humanity.
Ordener tottered beneath the small man's onslaught, and
would have fallen at the unexpected shock, had not one
of the heavy pillars of the Druid monument happened to
be just behind to sustain him. He stood therefore half
overthrown and gasping beneath the weight of his fear¬
ful foe. To gain any idea of the horrible spectacle offered
at this moment, it must be remembered that all which
we have described occurred in far less time than is required
to write it.
As we said, the noble youth tottered, but he did not
quake. He hastily addressed a farewell thought to Ethel.
The thought of his love was like a prayer; it restored his
strength. He threw his arms about the monster; then
seizing his sword by the middle of the blade, he pressed
the point straight down upon his spine. The wounded
brigand uttered a fearful scream, and with a sudden leap,
which shook oft Ordener, freed himself from his bold ad¬
versary's arms, and fell back some pace.s, taking in his
teeth a fragment of the green cloak, which he had bitten
in his fury.
He leaped up; supple and agile as a young deer, and the
battle began again, for the third time, more terrible than
ever. JBy chance there was, close by, a pile of huge stones
over which mpss and weeds had grown for centuries undis¬
turbed. Two ordinary men could scarcely have lifted the
208
HANS OF ICELAND.
smallest of these rocks. Hans seized one in both arms
and raised it above his head, poising it toward Ordener.
His expression was frightful. The stone, flung with great
violence, moved heavily through the air; the young man
had just time to spring aside. The granite bowlder broke
to fragments against the subterranean wall with a tremen¬
dous noise, which was echoed back for many moments
from the depths of the cavern.
Ordener, stunned and amazed, had barely time to re¬
cover before a second mass of stone was poised in the
brigand's grasp. Vexed that he should seem to stand
like a coward to be pelted, he rushed toward the small
man, with uplifted sword, to change this mode of warfare;
but the fearful missile, launched like a thunderbolt, as it
moved through the dense, dark air of the cave encountered
the bare and slender blade ; the steel was dashed to pieces
like a bit of glass, and the monster's fierce laugh rang
out. Ordener was disarmed.
" Have you," cried the monster, " aught to say to God
or the Devil ere you die ? "
And his eye darted flame, and all his muscles swelled
with rage and joy, and he flung himself with a thrill of
impatience upon his ax, which, wrapped in the cloak,
lay upon the ground. Poor EtheM
All at once a distant roar was heard outside. The
monster paused. The noise increased; shouts of men
were mingled with the plaintive moan of a bear. The
brigand listened. The cries of pain, continued. He
hastily seized his ax, and sprang, not toward Ordener,
but toward one of the crevices in the rock. Ordener,
overwhelmed with surprise to find himself thus unnoticed,
hurried in his turn to one of these natural doors, and saw
in a neighboring glade a large white bear at bay, sur¬
rounded by seven hunters, among whom he thought he
recognized Kennybol, whose words had made such an
impression upon him the night before.
He tuimed back. The brigand had left the cave, and
a fearful voice outside shouted: « Friend! Friend! I am
here! I am here!"
BANS OF ICELAND.
SOD
CHAPTER XXX.
Peter, good fellow, has lost his all at dice.—rfignier.
The regiment of musketeers from Munkholm was on
the march through the narrow passes lying between
Throndhjem and Skongen. Sometimes it moved along
the brink of a torrent, and the long line of bayonets crept
through the ravine like a huge serpent with glittering
scales; sometimes it wound around a mountain, making
it look like one of those triumphal columns about which
curves an army of heroes in bronze.
The soldiers marched with trailing weapons and cloaks
dragging in the dust, looking surly and tired, for these
noble fellows are averse to anything hut battle or inaction.
The coarse banter and threadbare jests which delighted
them but yesterday had lost their savor. The air was
chilled, the sky clouded. Nothing would raise a laugh in
the ranks, unless one of the sutler-women should get an
awkward tumble from her little Barbary horse, or a tin
saucepan should happen to roll over the precipice and
rebound from rock to rock.
To while away the monotony of the journey. Lieutenant
Randmer, a young Danish baron, accosted old Captain
Lory, who had risen from the ranks. The captain, moody
and silent, moved with a heavy but confident step; the
lieutenant, light and agile, played with a twig which he
had plucked from the bushes that lined the road.
"Well, Captain, what ails you? You seem depressed."
« And I should say I had good cause," replied the old
officer, without raising his eyes.
" Come, come, no regrets! Look at me. Am I de¬
pressed ? And yet I would wager that I have quite as
much cause as you."
" I doubt it. Baron Randmer; I have lost all I pos¬
sessed ; I have lost everything I loved."
" Captain Lory, our misfortunes are precisely the same.
It is not a fortnight since Lieutenant Alberick won my
castle and estate at a single deal of the cards. I am
ruined; but aln I the less gay ? "
14
210
HANS OF ICELAND.
The captain answered in a very melancholy tone r
" Lieutenant, you have only lost your castle; but I have
lost my dog."
At this answer the light-minded baron seemed uncer¬
tain whether to laugh or sympathize ; but he said : " Be
comforted, Captain. Only think, I, who have lost my
castle—"
The captain broke in upon his words :—
" What of that ? Besides, you may win back another
castle."
" And you may find another dog."
The old man shook his head.
" I may find another dog, but I shall never find my
poor Drake."
He paused; great tears gathered in his eyes and rolled
one by one down his hard, stern face.
" He was all I ever had to love," he added; " I never
knew my parents. God grant them peace, and my poor
Drake too! Lieutenant Randmer, he saved my life in
the Pomeranian war. I called him Drake in honor of the
famous admiral. My good dog! He never changed, as
did my fortunes. After the battle of Oholfen, the great
General Schack patted him, and said: ' You've a fine dog
there. Sergeant Lory f—for I was only a sergeant then."
" Ah I " interrupted the young baron, slashing his switch,
" how queer it must seem to be a sergeant."
The old soldier of fortune did not hear him; he ap¬
peared to be talking to himself, and Randmer could only
catch a word here and there.
" Poor Drake I After surviving so many breaches and
trenches, to be drowned like a blind kitten in that con¬
founded Throndhjem fjord ! My poor dog! my trusty
friend! You deserved to die on the field of battle, as I
hope to do."
« Come, come. Captain! " cried the lieutenant, " how can
you be so despondent? We may get a chance to fight
to-morrow."
"Yes," contemptuously answered the old captain, " with
a pretty enemy!"
"What! do you despise those rascally miners, those
devilish mountaineers ? "
" Stone-cutters, highwaymen, fellows who don't know
HANS OF ICELAND.
211
the first rudiments of warfare! A fine set of blackguards
to face a man like me, who has served in all the wars in
Pomerania and Holstein, in the campaigns of Scania and
Dalecarlia; who fought under the glorious General Schack
and the brave Count Guldenlew! "
"But don't you know," interrupted Randmer, "that
these fellows are led by a formidable chief,—a giant as
big and as brutal as Goliath, a rascal who drinks nothing
but human blood, a very Satan incarnate ? "
" And who may he be ? " asked the captain.
" Why, the famous Hans of Iceland! "
" Pooh! I'll wager that this great general does not
know how to shoulder a musket or handle a carbine
properly."
Randmer laughed.
" Yes, you may laugh," continued the captain. " It will
be very funny, no doubt, to cross swords with scurvy
pickaxes, and pikes with pitchforks! Here are worthy
foes indeed! My brave Drake would have scorned to
snap at their heels ! "
The captain was still giving free vent to his indigna¬
tion, when he was interrupted by the arrival of an ofiicer,
who ran up to them all out of breath,—
" Captain Lory! my dear Randmer! "
" Well ? " asked both at once.
" My friends, I am faint with horror! D'Ahlefeld,
Lieutenant d'Ahlefeld, the lord chancellor's son! You
know, my dear Randmer, that Frederic—such a dandy !
such a fop I "
" Yes," replied the young baron, " a great dandy ! Still,
at the last ball at Charlottenburg my costume was in much
better taste than his. But what has happened to him ? "
" I know whom you mean," said Lory ; " you mean
Frederic d'Ahlefeld, lieutenant of Company Three. The
men wear blue facings. He neglects his duty sadly."
"You will not have to complain of him again. Captain
Lory."
" Why not ? " said Randmer.
" He is garrisoned at Wahlstrom," coldly added the old
officer.
"Exactly," ^aid the newcomer; "the colonel has just
received a message. Poor Frederic!"
212
HANS OF ICELAND.
" But what has happened ? Captain Bollar, you alarm
me."
Old Lory added : " Nonsense! The popinjay was ab¬
sent from roll-call, I suppose, and the captain has sent
the lord chancellor's son to prison: that is the misfortune
which distresses you so sadly; I am sure it is."
Bollar clapped him on the shoulder.
" Captain Lory, Lieutenant d'Ahlefeld has been de¬
voured alive."
The two captains looked each other in the face; and
Randmer, startled for an instant, suddenly burst out
laughing.
" Oh, Captain Bollar, I see you are as fond of a joke as
ever! But you can't fool me in that way, I warn you."
And the lieutenant, folding his arms, gave way to mirth,
swearing that what amused him the most was to see how
readily Lory swallowed all Bollar's ridiculous stories. As
for the story, he said it was a capital one; and it was a
most clever idea to pretend that Frederic, who took such
dainty, such absurd care of his complexion, had been
swallowed raw.
" Randmer," said Bollar, seriously, " you act like a fool.
I tell you d'Ahlefeld is dead; I have it from the colonel,
—dead! "
« Oh, how well you play your part!" rejoined the baron,
still laughing; " what a funny fellow you are ! "
Bollar shrugged his shoulders, and turned to old Lory,
who quietly asked the particulars.
" Oh, yes, my dear Captain Bollar," added the irrepres¬
sible mocker; " tell us who ate the poor devil. Did he
serve as breakfast for a wolf, or supper for a bear ? "
"The colonel," said Bollar, "received a despatch just
now, informing him, in the first place, that the Wahlstrom
garrison is retreating toward us, driven back by a large
party of rebels."
Old Lory frowned.
" In the second place," resumed Bollar, " that Lieuten¬
ant Frederic d'Ahlefeld, having gone into the mountains
three days since to hunt, was captured near Arbar ruins
by a monster, who carried him to his lair and there de¬
voured him."
At tliis. Lieutenant Randmer's merriment increased.
HANS OF ICELAND.
213
" Oh, how our good Lory swallows your stories! That's
right; keep up a sober face, Bollar. You are wonder¬
fully amusing; but you don't tell us what this monstei',
this ogre, this vampire was, that carried off and ate up
the lieutenant like a week-old kid!"
" I will not tell you," impatiently answered Bollar;
"but I will tell Lory, who is not such an incredulous fool.
Lory, my dear fellow, the monster who drank Frederic's
blood was Hans of Iceland."
" The leader of the rebels! " exclaimed the old olBcer.
" Well, Lory," rejoined the scoffer, " do you think a man
who handles his jaw so ably needs to know how to shoulder
a musket ? "
"Baron Randmer," said Bollar, "you are very like
d'Ahlefeld in character; beware lest you meet with the
same fate."
" I declare," cried Randmer, " that Captain Bollar's im¬
movable gravity amuses me beyond expression."
"And Lieutenant Randmer's inexhaustible laughter
alarms me more than I can say."
At this moment a group of officers, engaged in eager
conversation, approached our three speakers.
" Zounds! " cried Randmer, " I must amuse them with
Bollar's story."
" Comrades," he added, advancing to meet them; " have
you heard the news ? Poor Frederic d'Ahlefeld has been
eaten alive by the barbarous Hans of Iceland."
As he said these words, he could not repress a hurst of
laughter, which, to his great surprise, was received by
the newcomers almost with shouts of indignation.
" What! can you laugh ? I did not think, Randmer,
that you would repeat such a dreadful piece of news so
lightly. How can you laugh at such a misfortune ? "
" What I" said Randmer, much confused; " is it really
true ? "
" Why, you just told us of it yourself!" was the general
cry. " Don't you believe your own words ? "
" But I thought it was one of Bollar's jokes."
An old officer interposed.
« Such a joke would be in very had taste ; but unfor¬
tunately it is no joke. Baron Voethaun, our colonel, has
just received th^ sad news."
214 ' BANS OF ICELAND.
" A fearful affair! It is really awful 1" repeated a
dozen voices.
"So we are to fight wolves and bears with human
faces," said one.
"We are to be shot down," said another, "without
knoAving whence the bullet comes; we are to be picked
off one by one, like birds in a cage."
" D'Ahlefeld's death," said Bollar, in a solemn tone,
" makes me shudder. Our regiment is unlucky. Dispol-
sen's murder, that of those poor soldiers found dead at
Cascadthymore, d'Ahlefeld's awful fate,—here are three
tragic events in a very short space of time."
Young Baron Randmer, who had been silent, looked
up.
" It is incredible," said he ; " Frederic, who danced so
well!"
And after this weighty remark he relapsed into silence,
while Captain Lory declared that he was greatly dis¬
tressed at the young lieutenant's death, and drew the
attention of private Toric-Belfast to the fact that the
brass clasp of his shoulder-belt was not so bright as
usual.
CHAPTER XXXI.
•' Hush, hush ! here comes a man climbing down a ladder."
" Oh, yes; he is a spy."
" Heaven could grant me no greater favor than to let me offer
you—my life. I am yours; but tell me, for mercy's sake, to
whom does this army belong ? "
" To a count from Barcelona."
" What count ? "
"What is it? "
" General, one of the enemy's spies."
" Whence come you ? "
" I came here, little dreaming what I should find ; little think¬
ing what I should see."—Lope de Veoa : La Fiierza Lastimosa.
There is something desolate and forbidding in the
aspect of a bare, flat region when the sun has set, one is
HANS OF ICELAJyi).
215
alone ; when, as he walks, he tramples the dry grass be¬
neath his feet, the dead brown leaves drop rustling from
the trees, he hears the monotonous cry of the cricket, and
sees huge, shapeless clouds sink slowly on the horizon
like dead ghosts.
Such were Ordener's gloomy reflections on the night of
his vain encounter with the Iceland robber. Startled by
his abrupt disappearance, he at first tried to pursue him;
but he lost his way in the heather, and wandered all day
through a wild and uncultivated country, where he found
no trace of man. At nightfall he was in a vast plain
stretching to the horizon on every side, where there
seemed no hope of shelter for the young traveler exhausted
by fatigue and hunger.
It would have been a slight relief if his bodily suffering
had not been aggravated by mental distress; but all was
over. He had reached his journey's end without accom¬
plishing his purpose. He could not even cherish those fool¬
ish illusions of hope which had urged him to pursue the
monster; and now that nothing was left to sustain his
courage, countless discouraging thoughts, for which he had
hitherto had no room, assailed him. What could he do ?
How could he return to Schumacher unless he could take
with him Ethel's salvation? What was the frightful na¬
ture of the misfortune which the possession of the fatal
casket would prevent, and what of his marriage to Ulrica
d'Ahlefeld ? If he could only free his Ethel from her
undeserved captivity ; if he could fly with her, and enjoy
uninterrupted happiness in some distant exile !
He wrapped himself in his mantle, and threw himself
upon the ground. The sky was dark; a tempestuous
light ever and anon appeared in the clouds as if through
a veil of crape and then vanished ; a cold wind swept
across the plain. The young man scarcely heeded these
signs of an immediate and violent storm; and besides,
even could he have found shelter from the tempest and a
place to rest from his fatigues, could he have found a
spot where he might avoid his misery or rest from
thought ?
All at once confused sounds of men's" voices fell upon
his ear. In surprise, he rose upon his elbow, and per¬
ceived at some distance a number of shadowy forms
216
IJANS OF ICELAND.
moving through the darkness. He looked again ; a light
shone in the midst of the mysterious group, and Ordener,
with astonishment which may easily be imagined, saw the
Aveird forms sink one after the other into the center of
the earth, until all had disappeared.
Ordener was above the superstitions of his age and
country. His serious and mature mind knew none of
those vain beliefs, those strange terrors, which torture the
childhood of a race as well as the childhood of a man.
And yet there was something supernatural about this sin¬
gular vision which filled him with devout distrust against
his better judgment; for who can tell whether tlie spirits
of the dead may not sometimes return to earth ?
He rose, made the sign of the cross, and walked toward
the spot where the apparition vanished.
Big drops of rain now began to fall; his cloak filled
like a sail, and the feather in his cap, beaten by the wind,
flapped in his face.
He stopped suddenly. A flash of lightning revealed
just at his feet a large, round Avell, into which he must
inevitably have fallen headlong had it not been for this
friendly warning. He approached the abyss. A faint
light was visible at a fearful depth, and cast a red glow
over the bottom of this huge opening in the bowels of the
earth. The light which seemed like a magic fii'e kindled
by elves, only increased the immeasurable darkness which
the eye was forced to pierce before reaching it.
The dauntless youth leaned over the abyss and listened.
A distant murmur of voices rose to his ear. He no longer
doubted that the beings Avho had so strangely appeared
and disappeared before his very eyes had plunged into
this gulf, and he felt an unconquerable desire, doubtless
because it was so fated, to follow them, even should he
pursue specters to the mouth of hell. Moreover, the tem¬
pest now burst with fury, and this hole would afford him
a shelter; but how was he to descend ? What road had
those he longed to follow taken, if indeed they were not
phantoms? A second flash came to his aid, and showed
him at his feet a ladder leading into the depths of the
well. It consisted of a strong upright beam, crossed at
regular intervals by short iron bars for the hands and
feet of those who might venture into the gulf below.
HANS OF ICELAND.
217
Ordener did not hesitate. He swung himself boldly
down upon the dreadful ladder, and plunged into the
abyss without knowing whether it reached the bottom or
not,—without reflecting that he might never again see
the sun. Soon he could only distinguish the sky from
the darkness overhead by the bluish flashes which lit it
up at brief intervals ; soon the rain pouring in torrents
upon the surface of the earth, reached him merely as a
fine, vaporous mist. Then the whirlwind, rushing vio¬
lently into the well, was lost above him in a prolonged
moan. He went down and do^vn, and yet seemed
scarcely nearer to the subterranean light. lie went on
without losing heart, never looking below lest he should
become dizzy and fall.
However, the air becoming more and more stifling, the
sound of voices more and more distinct, and the purplish
glow which began to tinge the walls of the pit, warned
him that he was not far from the bottom. He descended
a few more rounds, and saw plainly at the foot of the
ladder the entrance to an underground passage lighted by
a flickering red flame, while his ear caught words which
won his entire attention.
" Kennybol does not come," said an impatient voice.
" What can detain him ? " repeated the same voice, after
a brief pause.
"No one knows, Mr. Hacket," was the reply.
" He intended to spend the night with his sister, Maase
Braal, in the village of Surb," added a different voice.
" You see," rejoined the first speaker, " I keep my
promises. I agreed to bring Hans of Iceland for your
leader. I have brought him."
An indistinct murmur followed these words. Ordener's
curiosity, already aroused by the name of Kennybol, who
had so astonished him the night before, was redoubled at
the name of Hans of Iceland.
The same voice continued :—
" My friends, Jonas, Norbith, what matters it if
Kennybol is late? There are enough of us; we need
fear nothing. Did you find your standards at Crag
ruins ? "
" Yes, Mr. H»cket," replied several voices.
» Well, raise your banners; it is high time I Here is
218
HAJSrS OF ICELAND.
gold! Here is your invincible chief ! Courage ! March
to the rescue of the noble Schumacker, the unfortunate
Count Griffenfeld !"
" Hurrah ! huri'ah for Schumacker ! " repeated many
voices ; and the name of Schumacker echoed and re¬
echoed from the subterranean arches.
Ordener, more and more curious, more and more amazed,
listened, hardly daring to breathe. He could neither
believe nor understand what he heard. Schumacker
connected with Kennybol and Hans of Iceland ! What
was this dark drama, one scene in which he, an un¬
suspected spectator, had witnessed ? Whose life did
they wish to shield ? Whose head was at stake ?
" In me," continued the same voice, " you see the friend
and confidant of the noble Count Griffenfeld."
The voice was wholly unfamiliar to Ordener. It went
on : " Put implicit trust in me, as he does. Friends,
everything is in your favor ; you will reach Throndhjem
without meeting an enemy."
" Let us be off, Mr. Hacket," interrupted a voice.
" Peters told me that he saw the whole regiment from
Munkholm marching through the mountain-passes to
attack us."
" He deceived you," replied the other, in authoritative
tones. " The government as yet knows nothing of your
revolt, and it is so wholly unsuspicious that the man who
rejected your just complaints—your oppressor, the op¬
pressor of the illustrious and unfortunate Schumacker,
General Levin de Knud—has left Throndhjem for the
capital, to join in the festivities on the occasion of the
marriage of his ward, Ordener Guldenlew, and Ulrica
d'Ahlefeld."
Ordener's feelings may be imagined. To hear all these
names which interested him so deeply, and even his own,
uttered by unknown voices in this wild, desolate region,
in this mysterious tunnel I A frightful thought pierced
his soul. Could it be true ? Was it indeed an agent of
Count Griffenfeld whose voice he heard ? What! could
Schumacker, that venerable old man, his noble Ethel's
noble father, revolt against his royal master, hire brigands,
and kindle a civil war ? And it was for this hypocrite,
this rebel, that he, the sou of the Korwegian viceroy, the
HANS OF ICELAND.
219
pupil of General Levin, had compromised his future and
risked his life! It was for his sake that he had souglit
and fought with that Iceland bandit with whom Schn-
macker seemed to be in league, since he placed him at the
head of these scoundrels ! Who knows but that casket
for which he, Ordenfer, was on the point of shedding his
life-blood, contained some of the base secrets of this vile
plot ? Or had the revengeful prisoner of Munkholm
made a fool of him ? Perhaps he had found out his name ;
perhaps—and this thought was painful indeed to the
generous youth—he wished to ruin the son of an enemy
by urging him to this fatal journey !
Alas ! when we have long loved and revered the name
of an unfortunate man, when in our secret soul we have
vowed everlasting devotion to his misfortunes, it is bitter
to be repaid with ingratitude, to feel that we are forever
disenchanted with generosity, and that we must renounce
the pure, sweet joys of loyal self-sacrifice. AVe grow
old in an instant with the most melancholy form of old
age ; we grow old in experience, and we lose the most
beautiful illusion of a life whose only beauty lies in its
illusions.
Such were the dispiriting thoughts that crowded con¬
fusedly upon Ordener's mind. The noble youth longed
to die at that instant; he felt that his happiness had
vanished. True, there were many things in the assertions
of the man who described himself as Griffenfeld's envoy
which struck him as false or doubtful ; but these state¬
ments, being only meant to deceive a set of poor rustics,
Schumacher was but the more guilty in his eyes ; and
this same Schumacker was his Ethel's father !
These reflections agitated him the more violently be¬
cause they all thronged upon him at once. He reeled
against the rounds of the ladder on which he stood, and
listened still; for we sometimes wait with inexplicable
impatience and fearful eagerness for the misfortunes
which we dread the most.
" Yes," added the voice of the envoy, "you are to be
commanded by the much-dreaded Hans of Iceland. Who
will dare resist you ? You fight for your wives and your
children, basely despoiled of their inheritance ; for a
noble and unfortunate man, who for twenty years has
220
HANS OF ICELAND.
languished unjustly in an infamous prison. Come, for
Schumacker and liberty await you. Death to tyrants ! "
" Death! " repeated a thousand voices; and the clash
of arms rang through the winding cave, mingled with the
hoarse note of the mountaineer's horn.
" Stop! " cried Ordener.
He hurriedly descended the remainder of the ladder ;
for the idea that he might save Schumacker from com¬
mitting a crime and spare his country untold misery
had taken entire possession of him. But as he stood at
the mouth of the cave, fear lest he might destroy his
Ethel's father, and perhaps his Ethel herself, by rash
invectives, took the place of every other consideration,
and he remained rooted to the spot, pale, and casting an
amazed glance at the singular scene before him.
It was like a vast square in some underground city,
whose limits were lost amid endless columns supporting
the vaulted roof. These pillars glittered like crystal in
the rays of countless torches borne by a multitude of men,
armed with strange weapons, and scattered in confusion
about the cave. From all these points of light and all
these fearful figures straymg among the shadows, it might
have passed for one of the legendary gatherings described
by ancient chroniclers,—an assembly of wizards and
demons, bearing stars for torches, and illuminating an¬
tique groves and ruined castles by night.
A prolonged shout arose.
" A stranger! Kill him ! kill him ! "
A hundred arms were raised to strike Ordener down.
He put his hand to his side in search of his sword.
Noble youth! In his generous ardor he had forgotten
that he was alone and unarmed.
" Stay ! stay!" cried a voice,—the voice of one whom
Ordener recognized as Schuniacker's envoy.
He was a short, stout man, dressed in black, with a
deceitful smile. He advanced toward Ordener, saying:
" Who are you ? "
Ordener made no answer; he was threatened on every
side, and there was not an inch of liis breast uncovered
by a sword-point or the mouth of a pistol.
" Are you afraid ? " asked tlie little man witli a sneer.
" If your hand were upon my heart, instead of these
ITAXfi OF ICELAND.
231
swords," coldly answered Ordener, " you would see that
it beats no faster than your own, if indeed you have a
heart."
" Ah, ha! " said the little man; " so you defy us!
Well, let him die ! " And he turned his back.
" Give me death," returned Ordener; " it is the only
thing that I would accept from you."
" One moment, Mr. Hacket," said an old man with a
thick beard, who stood leaning on a long musket. " You
are my guests, and I alone have the right to send this
fellow to tell the dead what he has seen."
Mr. Hacket laughed.
"Faith, my dear Jonas, let it be as you please. It
matters little to me who judges this spy, so long as he
is condemned."
The old man turned to Ordener.
" Come, tell us who you are, since you are so boldly
curious to know who we are."
Ordener was silent. Surrounded by the strange allies
of that Schumaker for whom he would so willingly have
shed his blood, he felt only an infinite longing to die.
" His worship will not answer," said the old man.
"When the fox is caught, he cries no more. Kill
him !"
"My brave Jonas," rejoined Hacket, "let this man's
death be Hans of Iceland's first exploit among you."
" Yes, yes ! " cried many voices.
Ordener, astounded, but still undaunted, looked about
him for Hans of Iceland, with whom he had so valiantly
disputed his life that very morning, and saw with in¬
creased surprise a man of colossal size, dressed in the
garb of the mountaineers. This giant stared at Ordener
with brutal stupidity, and called for an ax.
"You are not Hans of Iceland I" emphatically ex¬
claimed Ordener.
" Kill /lim! kill him ! " cried Hacket, angrily.
Ordener saw that he must die. He put his hand in his
bosom to draw out his Ethel's hair and give it one last
kiss. As he did so, a paper fell from his belt.
" What is that paper ?" asked Hacket. " Korbith,
seize that paper."
Norbith was^ young man, whose stern, dark features
222
BANS OF ICELAND.
bore the stamp of true nobility. He picked up the paper
and unfolded it. " Good God !" he exclaimed, " it is the
passport of my poor friend, Christopher Nedlam, that
unfortunate fellow who was beheaded not a week ago in
Skongen market-place, for coining counterfeit money."
" Well," said Racket, in a disappointed tone, " you
may keep the bit of paper. I thought it was something
more important. Come, my dear Hans, despatch your
man."
Young Norbith threw himself before Ordener, cry¬
ing ; " This man is under my protection. My head
shall fall before you touch a hair of his. I ■wdll not suf¬
fer the safe conduct of my friend Christopher Nedlam to
be violated."
Ordener, so miraculously preserved, hung his head and
felt humiliated ; for he remembered how contemptuously
he had inwardly received Chaplain Athanasius Munder's
touching prayer,—" May the gift of the dying benefit the
traveler!"
" Pooh! pooh!" said Racket, " you talk nonsense, good
Norbith. The man is a spy ; he must die."
" Give me my ax," repeated the giant.
" He shall not die! " cried Norbith. « What would the
spirit of my poor Nedlam say, whom they hung in such
cowardly fashion? I tell you he shall not die; for
Nedlam will not let him die!"
"As far as that goes," said old Jonas, "Norbith is
right. Why should we kill this stranger, Mr. Racket?
He has Christopher Nedlam's pass."
" But he is a spy, a spy ! " repeated Racket.
The old man took his stand with the young one at
Ordener's side, and both said quietly: " He has the pass
of Christopher Nedlam, who was hung at Skongen."
Racket saw that he must needs submit; for all the
others began to murmur, and to say that this stranger
should not die, as he had the safe-conduct of Nedlam
the counterfeiter.
" Very well," he hissed through his teeth with concen¬
trated rage; "then let him live. After all, it is your
business, and not mine."
" If he were the Devil himself I would not kill him,"
said the triumphant Norbith.
HANS OF ICELAND.
223
"With these words he turned to Ordener.
" Look here," he added, " you must be a good fellow, as
you have my poor friend Nedlam's pass. We are the royal
miners. We have rebelled to rid ourselves of the protec¬
torate of the Crown. Mr. Racket, here, says that we have
taken up arms for a certain Count Schumacker; but I for
one know nothing about him. Stranger, our cause is just.
Hear me, and answer as if you were answering your patron
saint. Will you join us ? "
An idea flashed through Ordener's mind.
"Yes," replied he.
Norbith offered him a sword, which Ordener silently
accepted.
" Brother," said the youthful leader; " if you mean to
betray us, begin by killing me."
At this instant the sound of the horn rang through the
arched galleries of the mine, and distant voices were heard
exclaiming, " Here comes Kennybol I "
CHAPTER XXXIL
There are thoughts as high as heaven.—Old Spanish Romance.
The soul sometimes has sudden inspirations, brilliant
flashes whose extent can no more be expressed, whose
depth can no more be sounded by an entire volume of
thoughts and reflections, than the brightness of a thou¬
sand torches can reproduce the intense, swift radiance of
a flash of lightning.
We will not, therefore, try to analyze the overwhelm¬
ing and secret impulse which upon young Norbith's pro¬
posal led the noble son of the Norwegian viceroy to join
a party of bandits who had risen in revolt to defend a
proscribed man. It was doubtless a generous desire to
fathom this dark scheme at any cost, mixed with a bitter
loathing for life, a reckless indifference to the future;
perhaps some vague doubt of Schumacker's guilt, inspired
by all the various incidents which struck the young man
as equivocal and false, by a strange instinct for the truth,
and above all b/ his love for Ethel. In short, it was cer-
224
nANS OF ICELAND.
tainly a secret sense of the help which a clear-sighted
friend, in the midst of his blind partisans, might render
Schumacker,
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Is that the chief ? His look alarms me; I dare not speak to
him.—Maturin : Bertram.
Oif hearing the shouts which announced the arrival of
the famous hunter Kennybol, Hacket sprang forward to
meet him, leaving Ordener with the two other leaders.
" Here you are at last, my dear Kennybol! Come, let
me present you to your much-dreaded commander, Hans
of Iceland."
At this name, Kennybol, pale, breathless, his hair stand¬
ing on end, his face bathed in perspiration, and his hands
stained with blood, started back.
" Hans of Iceland! "
" Come," said Hacket, " don't be alarmed! He is here
to help you. You must look upon him as a friend and
comrade."
Kennybol did not heed him.
" Hans of Iceland here! " he repeated.
" To be sure," said Hacket, with ill-suppressed laughter;
" are you afraid of him ? "
" What! " for the third time interrupted the hunter;
" do you really mean it,—is Hans of Iceland here, in this
mine ? "
Hacket turned to the bystanders: " Has our brave
Kennybol lost his wits ? "
Then, addressing Kennybol: " I see that it was your
dread of Hans of Iceland which made you so late."
Kennybol raised his hands to heaven.
"By Ethelreda, the holy Norwegian saint and martyr,
it was not fear of Hans of Iceland, but Hans of Iceland
himself, I swear, that delayed me so long."
These words caused a murmur of surprise to run
through the crowd of miners and mountaineers sur¬
rounding the two speakers, and clouded Hacket's face
as the sight and the rescue of Ordener had but a moment
before.
HANS OF ICELAND.
225
"What! What do you mean?" he asked, dropping
his voice.
" I mean, Mr. Hacket, that but for your confounded
Hans of Iceland I should have been here before the owl's
first hoot."
" Indeed 1 and what did he do to you ? "
" Oh, do not ask me. I onl}^ hope that my beard may
turn as white as an ermine's skin in a single day if I am
ever caught again hunting a white bear, since I escaped
this time with my life."
" Did you come near being eaten by a bear ? "
Kennybol shrugged his .shoulders contemptuously.
" A bear! a terrible foe that would be I Kennybol
eaten by a bear! For what do you take me, Mr.
Hacket ? "
" Oh, pardon me 1" said Hacket, with a smile.
" If you knew what had happened to me, good sir,"
interrupted the old hunter, in a low voice, " you would
not persist in telling me that Hans of Iceland is here."
Hacket again seemed embarrassed. He seized Kenny¬
bol abruptly by the arm, as if he feared lest he should
approach the spot where the giant's huge head now
loomed up above those of the miners.
" My dear Kennybol," said he, solemnly, " tell me, I
entreat you, what caused your delay. You must under¬
stand that at this time anything may be of the utmost
importance."
" That is true," said Kennybol, after a brief pause.
Then, yielding to Hacket's repeated requests, he told
him how that very morning, aided by six comrades, he
had pursued a white bear into the immediate vicinity of
Walderhog cave, without noticing, in the excitement of
the chase, that they were so near that dreadful place;
how the growls of the bear at bay had attracted a little
man, a monster, or demon, who, armed with a stone ax,
had rushed upon them to defend the bear. The appear¬
ance of this devil, who could be no other than Hans, the
demon of Iceland, had petrified all seven of them with
terror. Finally, his six companions had fallen victims to
the two monsters, and he, Kennybol, only owed his
safety to speedy flight, assisted by his own nimbleness,
Hans of Iceland's fatigue, and above all, by the pro-
220
HAXS OF ICELAND.
tection of that blessed patron saint of hunters, Saint
Sylvester.
" You see, Mr. Hacket," he concluded his tale, which
was still somewhat incoheient from fright, and adorned
with all the flowers of the mountain dialect,—" you see
that if I am late you should not blame me, and that it
is impossible for the demon of Iceland, whom I left this
morning with his bear wreaking their fury upon the
corpses of my six poor friends on Walderhog heath, to be
here now in the guise of a friend. I protest that it can¬
not be. I know him now, that flend incarnate; I have
seen him !"
Hacket, who had listened attentively, said gravely:
"My brave friend Kennybol, nothing is impossible to
Hans or to the Devil; I knew all this before."
The savage features of the old hunter from the moun¬
tains of Kiblen assumed an expression of extreme amaze¬
ment and childlike credulity. "What!"he exclaimed.
"Yes," added Hacket, in whose face a more skilful
observer might have read grim triumph ; " I knew it all,
except that you were the hero of this unfortunate adven¬
ture. Hans of Iceland told me the whole story on our
way here."
" Really!" said Kennybol; and he gazed at Hacket
with respect and awe.
Hacket continued with the same perfect composure ;
" To be sure. But now calm yourself; I will present
you to this dreadful Hans of Iceland."
Kennybol uttered an exclamation of fright.
" Be calm, I say," repeated Hacket. " Consider him as
your friend and leader; but be careful not to remind him
in any way of what occurred this morning. Do you
understand ? "
Resistance was useless; but it was not without a severe
mental struggle that he agreed to be presented to the
demon. They advanced to the group where Ordener stood
with Jonas and Norbith.
" May God guard you, good Jonas, dear Korbith ! " said
Kennybol.
" We need his protection, Kennybol," said Jonas.
At this instant Kennybol's eye met that of Ordener,
who was trying to attract his attention.
HANS OF ICELAND.
227
" Ah! there you are, young man," said he, going up to
him eagerly and offering him his hard, wrinkled hand;
" welcome! It seems that your courage met with its
reward."
Ordener, who could not imagine how this mountaineer
happened to understand him so well, was about to ask an
explanation, when Norbith exclaimed : " Then you know
this stranger, Kennybol ? "
" By my patron saint, I do ! I love and esteem him.
lie is devoted, like ourselves, to the good cause which we
all serve."
And he cast another meaning look at Ordener, which
the latter was on the point of answering, when Hacket,
who had gone in search of his giant, whose company all
the insurgents seemed to avoid, came up to our four
friends, saying: " Kennybol, my valiant hunter, here is
your leader, the famous Hans of Klipstadur! "
Kennybol glanced at the huge brigand with more sur¬
prise than terror, and whispered in Hacket's ear: " Mr.
Hacket, the Hans of Iceland whom I met this morning
was a short man."
Hacket answered in low tones: "You forget, Kennybol;
he is a demon! "
" True," said the credulous hunter; " I suppose he has
changed his shape."
And he turned aside -with a shudder to cross himself
secretly.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
The mask approaches; it is Angelo himself. The rascal know
his business well; he must be sure of his facts.—Lessing.
Ix a dark grove of old oaks, whose dense leaves the
pale light of dawn can scarcely penetrate, a short man
approaches another man who is alone, and seems to be
waiting for him. The following conversation begins
in low tones :—
" Your worship must excuse me for keeping you wait¬
ing ; several things detained me."
" ISuch as what 7 "
228
HANS OF ICELAFD.
" The leader of the mountain men, Kennybol, did not
reach the appointed place until midnight; and we were
also disturbed by an unlooked-for witness."
"Who?"
" A fellow who thrust himself like a fool into the mine
in the midst of our secret meeting. At first I took him
for a spy, and would have put him to death; but he
turned out to be the bearer of a safe-conduct from some
gallows-bird held in great respect by our miners, and they
instantly took him under their protection. When I came
to consider the matter, I made up my mind that he was
probably a curious traveler or a learned fool. At any
rate, I have taken all necessary precautions in regard
to him."
" Is everything else going well ? "
" Very well. The miners from Guldsbrandsdal and the
Faroe Islands led by young Norbith and old Jonas, with
the mountain men from Kiblen, under Kennybol, are
probably on the march at this moment. Four miles from
Blue Star, their comrades from Hubfallo and Sund-Moer
will join them ; those from Kongsberg and the iron-work-
ers from Lake Mibsen, who have already compelled the
Wahlstrom garrison to retreat, as your lordship knows,
will await them a few miles farther on ; and finally, my
dear and honored master, these combined forces will halt
for the night some two miles away from Skongen, in the
gorges of Black Pillar."
" But how did they receive your Hans of Iceland ? "
" With perfect confidence."
"Would that I could avenge my son's death on that
monster ! What a pity that he should escape us ! "
" My noble lord, first use Hans of Iceland's name to
wreak your revenge upon Schumacker; then it will be
time enough to think of vengeance against Hans himself.
The insurgents will march all day, and halt to-night in
Black Pillar Pass, two miles from Skongen."
" What! can you venture to let so large a force advance
so close to Skongen? Musdoemon, take care ! "
"You are suspicious, noble Count. Your worship may
send a messenger at once to Colonel Voethaun, whose
regiment is probably at Skongen now ; inform him that
the rebel forces will encamp to-night in Black Pillar Pass,
HANS OF ICELAND.
229
and have no misgivings. The place seems made purposely
for ambuscades."
" I understand you ; but why, my dear fellow, did you
muster the rebels in such numbers'?"
" The greater the insurrection, sir, the greater will be
Schumacker's crime and your merit. Besides, it is impor¬
tant that it should be crushed at a single blow."
" Very good ; but why did you order them to halt so
near Skongen ? "
" Because it is the only spot in the mountains where all
resistance is impossible. None will ever leave it alive
but those whom we select to appear before the court."
" Capital! Something tells me, Musdoemon, to finish
this business quickly. If all looks well in this quarter,
it looks stormy in another. You know that we have
been making secret search at Copenhagen for the papers
which we feared had fallen into the possession of Dispol-
sen ? "
"Well, sir?"
"Well, I have just discovered that the scheming fellow
had mysterious relations with that accursed astrologer,
Cumbysulsum."
" Who died recently ? "
" Yes; and that the old sorcerer delivered certain papers
to Schumacker's agent before he died."
" Damnation! He had letters of mine,—a statement of
our plot!"
" Your plot, Musdoemon!"
" A thousand pardons, noble Count! But why did your
worship put yourself in the power of such a humbug as
Cumbysulsum ?—the old traitor ! "
"You see, Musdoemon, I am not a skeptic and unbe¬
liever, like you. It is not without good reason, my dear
fellow, that I have ahvays put my trust in old Cumby-
sulsum's magic skill."
" I wish your worship had had as much doubt of his
loyalty as you had trust in his skill. However, let us not
take fright too soon, noble master. Dispolsen is dead, his
papers are lost; in a few days we shall be safely rid of
those whom they might benefit."
" In any event, what charge could be brought against
me ?"
230
HANS OF ICELAND.
" Or me, protected as I am by your Grace ? "
" Oh, yes, my dear fellow, of course you can count upon
me; but let us bring this business to a head. I will send
the messenger to the colonel. Come, my people are wait¬
ing for me behind those bushes, and we must return to
Throndhjem, which the Mecklenburger must have left ere
now. Continue to serve me faithfully, and in spite of all
the Cumbysulsums and Dispolsens upon earth, you can
count on me in life and death ! "
" I beg your Grace to believe— The Devil!"
Here they plunged into the thicket, among whose
branches their voices gradually died away; and soon after,
no sound was heard save the tread of their departing
steeds.
CHAPTER XXXV.
Beat the drums! They come, they come! They have all
sworn, and all the same oath, never to return to Castile without
the captive count, their lord.
TheyJhave his marble statue in a chariot, and are resolved never
to turn back until they see the statue itself turn back.
And in token that the first man who retraces his steps will be
regarded as a traitor, they have all raised their right hand and
taken an oath.
And they marched toward Arlangon as swiftly as the oxen
which drag the chariot could go ; they tarry no more than does
the sun.
Burgos is deserted ; only the women and children remain he-
hind ; and so too in the suburbs. They talk, astliey go, of horses
and falcons, and question whether they should free Castile from
the tribute' she pays Leon.
And before they enter Navarre, they meet upon the fron¬
tier. . . .
Old Spanish Romance.
WHiLE the preceding conversation was going on in one
of the forests on the outskirts of Lake Mibsen, the rebels,
divided into three columns, left Absyl-Corh lead-mine by
the chief entrance, which opens, on a level with the ground,
in a deep ravine.
Ordener, who, in spite of his desire for a closer ac¬
quaintance with Kennybol, had been placed under Nor-
bith's command,, at first saw nothing but a long line of
HANS OF ICELAND.
231
torches, whose beams, vying with the early light of dawn,
were reflected back from hatchets, pitchforks, mattocks,
clubs with iron heads, huge hammers, pickaxes, crowbars,
and all the rude implements which could be borrowed from
their daily toil, mingled with genuine weapons of warfare,
such as muskets, pikes, SAvords, carbines, and guns, which
showed that this revolt was a conspiracy. When the sun
rose, and the glow of the torches was no more than smoke,
he could better observe the aspect of this strange army,
which advanced in disorder, Avith hoarse songs and fierce
* shouts, like a band of hungry Avolves in pursuit of a dead
body. It was diA'ided into three parts. First came the
mountaineers from Kiblen, under command of Kennybol,
whom they all resembled in their dress of Avild beasts'
skins, and in their bold, savage mien. Then folloAved the
young miners led by Norbith, and the older ones under
Jonas, with their broad-brimmed hats, loose trousers, bare
arms, and blackened faces, gazing at the sun in mute sur¬
prise. Above this noisy band floated a confused sea of
scarlet banners, bearing various mottoes, such as, " Long
liA'e Schumacker! " " Let us free our Deliverer !" " Free¬
dom for Miners!" " Liberty for Count Griffenfeld! " "Death
to GuldenlcAv! " " Death to all Oppressors! " " Death to
d'Ahlefeld !" The rebels seemed to regard these standards
rather in the light of a burden than an ornament, and they
were passed frequently from hand to hand when the color-
bearers were tired, or desired to mingle the discordant
notes of their horns Avith the psalm-singing and shouts of
their comrades.
The rear-guard of this strange army consisted of ten or
a dozen carts draAvn by reindeer and strong mules, doubt¬
less meant to carry ammunition; and the vanguard, of
the giant, escorted by Racket, who marched alone, armed
Avith a mace and an ax, followed at a considerable dis-
tiince, with no small terror, by the men under command
of Kennybol, who never took his eyes from him, as if
anxious not to lose sight of his diabolical leader during the
various transformations which he might be pleased to
undergo.
This stream of insurgents poured doAAUi the mountain¬
side with many confused noises, filling the pine Avoods
with the sound of their horns. Their numbers Avere soon
232
HANS OF ICELAND.
swelled by various reinforcements from Sund-Moer, Hub-
fallo, Kongsberg, and a troop of iron-workers from Lake
Midsen, who presented a singular contrast to the rest of
the rebels. They were tall, powerful men, armed with
hammers and tongs, their broad leather aprons being their
only shield, a huge wooden cross their only standard, as
they marched soberly and rhythmically, with a regular
tread more religious than military, their only war-song
being Biblical psalms and canticles. They had no leader
but their cross-bearer, who walked before them unarmed.
The rebel troop met not a single human being on their
road. As they approached, the goat-herd drove his flocks
into a cave, and the peasants forsook his village ; for the
inhabitant of the valley and plain is everywhere alike,—
he fears the bandit's horn as much as the bowman's blast.
Thus they traversed hills and forests, with here and
there a small settlement, followed winding roads where
traces of wild beasts were more frequent than the foot¬
print of man, skirted lakes, crossed torrents, ravines, and
marshes. Ordener recognized none of these places. Once
only his eye, as he looked up, caught upon the horizon the
dim, blue outline of a great sloping rock. He turned to
one of his rude companions, and asked, " My friend, what
is that rock to the south, on our right ? "
" That is the Vulture's Neck, Oelmoe Cliff," was the
reply.
Ordener sighed heavily.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
God keep and bless you, my daughter.—Regnier.
Moxkey, paroquets, combs, and ribbons, all were ready
to receive Lieutenant Frederic. His mother had sent, at
great expense, for the famous Scudery's latest novel.
By her order it had been richly bound, with silver-gilt
clasps, and placed, with the bottles of perfume and boxes
of patches, upon the elegant toilet-table, with gilded feet,
and richly inlaid, with which she had furnished her dear
sou Frederic's future sitting-room. When she had thus
BANS OF ICELAND.
233
fulfilled the careful round of petty maternal cares which
had for a moment caused her to forget her hate, she re¬
membered that she had now nothing else to do but to
injure Schumacker and Ethel. General Levin's departure
left them at her mercy.
So many things had happened recently at Munkholm
of which she could learn but little ! Who was the serf,
vassal, or peasant, who, if she was to credit Frederic's very
ambiguous and embarrassed phrases, had won the love
of the ex-chancellor's daughter ? What were Baron Or-
dener's relations with the prisoners of Munkholm ? What
were the incomprehensible motives for Ordener's most
peculiar absence at a time when both kingdoms were given
over to preparations for his marriage to that Ulrica
d'Ahlefeld whom he seemed to disdain ? And lastly, what
had occurred between Levin de Knud and Schumacker ?
The countess was lost in conjectures. She finally re¬
solved, in order to clear up all these mysteries, to risk a
descent upon Munkholm,—a step to which she was coun- •
seled both by her curiosity as a woman and her interests
as an enemy.
One evening, as Ethel, alone in the donjon garden, had
just written, for the sixth time, with a diamond ring, some
mysterious monogram upon the dusty window in the pos¬
tern gate through which her Ordener had disappeared, it
opened. The young girl started. It was the first time
that this gate had been opened since it closed upon
him.
A tall, pale woman, dressed in white, stood before her.
She gave Ethel a smile as sweet as poisoned honey, and
behind her mask of quiet friendliness there lurked an ex¬
pression of hatred, spite, and involuntary admiration.
Ethel looked at her in astonishment, almost fear. Ex¬
cept her old nurse, who had died in her arms, this was
the first woman she had seen within the gloomy walls of
Munkholm.
" My child," gently asked the stranger, " are you the
daughter of the prisoner of Munkholm ? "
Ethel could not help turning away her head; she in¬
stinctively shrank from the stranger, and she felt as if
there were venom in the breath which uttered such sweet
tones. She answered: "I am Ethel Schumacker. IMy
234
HANS OF ICELAND.
father tells me that in my cradle I was called Countess ot
Tonsberg and Princess of Wollin."
" Your father tells you so ! " exclaimed the tall woman,
with a sneer which she at once repressed. Then she
added : " Yon have had many misfortunes! "
" Misfortune received me, at my birth, in its cruel arms,"
replied the youthful captive ; " my noble father says that
it will never leave me while I live."
A smile flitted across the lips of the stranger, as she
rejoined in a pitying tone : " And do you never murmur
against those who flung you into this cell ? Do you not
curse the authors of your misery ? "
" No, for fear that our curse might draw down upon
their heads evils like those which they make us endure."
"And," continued the pale woman, with unmoved face,
" do you know the authors of these evils of which you
complain ? "
Ethel considered a moment, and said: " All that has
happened to us is by the will of Heaven."
" Does your father never speak to you of the king ? "
" The king ? I pray for him every morning and,even¬
ing, although I do not know him."
Ethel did not understand why the stranger bit her lip
at this reply.
" Does your unhappy father never, in his anger, mention
his relentless foes. General Arensdorf, Bishop Spolleyson,
and Chancellor d'Ahlefeld ? "
" I don't know Avhoiu you mean."
" And do you know the name of Levin de Knud ? "
The recollection of the scene which had occurred but
two days before, between Schumacker and the governor
of Throndhjem, was so fresh in Ethel's mind that she
could not but be struck by the name of Levin de Knud.
« Levin de Knud ? " said she; " I think that he is the
man for whom my father feels so much esteem, almost
affection."
" What! " cried the tall woman.
"Yes," resumed the girl; " it was Levin de Knud whom
my father defended so warmly, day before yesterday,
against the governor of Throndhjem."
These words increased her hearer's surprise.
" Against the governor of Thx'oudhjeiu! Do not trifle
HANS OF ICELAND.
235
with me, girl. I am here in your interests. Your father
took General Levin de Knud's part against the governor
of Throndhjem, you say 'i"
" General! I thought he was a captain. But no; you
are right. My father," added Ethel, " seemed to feel as
much attachment for this General Levin de Knud as dis¬
like for the governor of Throndhjem."
"Here is a strange mystery indeed! " thought the tall,
pale woman, whose cuiaosity increased momentarily.
" My dear child, what happened between your father and
the governor ? "
All these questions wearied poor Ethel, who looked
fixedly at the tall woman, saying: " Am I a criminal,
that you should cross-examine me thus ? "
At these simple words the stranger seemed thunder¬
struck, as if she saw the reward of her skill slipping
through her fingers. She replied, nevertheless, in a trem¬
ulous voice: "You would not speak to me so if you
knew why and for whom I come."
" What! " said Ethel; " do you come from him ? Do
you bring me a message from him ? " And all the blood
in her body rushed to her fair face : her heart throbbed
in her bosom with impatience and alarm.
" From whom ? " asked the stranger.
The young girl hesitated as she was about to utter
the adored name. She saw a flash of wicked joy gleam
in the stranger's eye like a ray from hell. She said
sadly:—
" You do not know the person Avhom I mean."
An expression of disappointment again appeared upon
the stranger's apparently friendly face.
" Poor young girl," she cried; " what can I do to help
you ? "
Ethel did not hear her. Her thoughts were beyond
the mountains of the North, in quest of the daring traveler.
Her head sank upon her breast, and her hands were un¬
consciously clasped.
" Does your father hope to escape from this prison ? "
This question, twice reiieated by the stranger, brought
Ethel to herself.
" Yes," said sh#, and tears sparkled on her cheek. The
stranger's eyes flashed.
23G
HANS OF ICELAND.
" He does! Tell me how; by what means : when !"
" He hopes to escape from this prison because he hopes
ere long to die."
There is sometimes a power in the very simplicity of a
gentle young spirit which outwits the artifice of a heart
grown old in wickedness. This thought seemed to occur
to the great lady, for her expression suddenly changed,
and laying her cold hand on Ethel's arm, she said in a
tone which was almost sincere : " Tell me, have you heard
that your father's life is again threatened by a fresh judi¬
cial inquiry ? That he is suspected of having stirred up
a revolt among the miners of the North ? "
The words " revolt" and " inquiry " conveyed no clear
idea to Ethel's mind. She raised her great dark eyes to
the stranger's face as she asked : " What do you mean ? "
" That your father is conspiring against the State ; that
his crime is all hut discovered; that this crime will be
punished with death."
" Death ! crime !" cried the poor girl.
" Crime and death," said the strange lady, seriously.
" My father! my noble father! " continued Ethel.
" Alas! he spends his days in hearing me read the Edda
and the Gospel! He conspire ! What has he done to
you ? "
« Do not look at me so fiercely. I tell you again I am
not your enemy. Your father is suspected of a grave crime;
I am here to warn you of it. Perhaps, instead of such a
show of dislike, I might lay claim to your gratitude."
This reproach touched Ethel.
" Oh, forgive me, noble lady, forgive me! What hu¬
man being have I ever seen who was not an enemy ? I
have doubted you. You will forgive me, will you not?" -
The stranger smiled.
" What, my girl! have you never met a friend until to¬
day?"
A hot blush mantled Ethel's brow. She hesitated an
instant.
" Yes. God knows the truth, we have found a friend,
noble lady,—one only ! "
" One only ! " said the great lady, hastily. " His name,
I implore. You do not know how important it is ; it is
for your father's safety. Who i;3 this friend ? "
HANS OF ICELAND.
237
" I do not know," said Ethel.
The stranger turned pale.
" Is it because I wish to serve you that you trifle with
me ? Consider that your father's life is at stake. Tell
me, who is this friend of whom you speak ? "
" Heaven knows, noble lady, that I know nothing of
him but his name, which is Ordener."
Ethel uttered these words with that diificulty which
we all feel in pronouncing before an indifferent person
the sacred name which wakes within us every emotion of
love.
" Ordener! Ordener !" repeated the stranger, with sin¬
gular agitation, while her hands crumbled the white em¬
broideries of her veil. " And what is his father's name ? "
she asked in a troubled voice.
"I do not know," replied the girl. "What are his
family and his father to me ? This Ordener, noble lady,
is the most generous of men."
Alas! the accent with which these words were spoken
revealed Ethel's secret to the sharp-sighted stranger.
She assumed an air of calm composure, and asked,
without taking her eyes from the girl's face : " Have you
heard of the approaching marriage of the viceroy's son to
the daughter of the present lord chancellor, d'Ahlefeld?"
She was obliged to repeat her question before Ethel's
mind could grasp an idea which did not interest her.
" I believe I have," was her answer.
Her calmness, and her indifferent manner, seemed to
surprise the stranger.
" Well, what do you think of this marriage ?"
It was impossible to note the slightest change in Ethel's
large eyes as she replied: " Nothing, truly. May their
union be a happy one!"
" Counts Guldenlew and d'Ahlefeld, the fathers of the
young couple, are both bitter enemies of your father."
" May their marriage be blessed!" gently repeated
Ethel.
«I have an idea," continued the crafty stranger. " If
your father's life be really threatened, you might obtain
his pardon through the viceroy's son upon the occasion of
this great marriage."
" May the saints reward you for your kind thought for
HANS OF ICELAND.
us, noble lady; but how should my petition reach the vice¬
roy's son 'i"
These words were spoken in such good faith that they
drew a gesture of surprise from the stranger.
" What! do you not know him ? "
" That powerful lord ! " cried Ethel. " You forget that
I have never been outside the walls of this fortress."
" Truly," muttered the tall woman between her teeth.
"What did that old fool of a Levin tell me? She does
not know him. Still, that is impossible," said she; then,
raising her voice: "You must have seen the viceroy's
son ; he has been here."
" That may be, noble lady ; of all the men who have
been here, I have never seen but one,—my Ordener."
"Your Ordener!" interrupted the stranger. She
added, without .seeming to notice Ethel's blushes : " Da you
know a young man with noble face, elegant figure, grave
and dignified bearing? His expression is gentle, yet
firm ; his complexion fresh as that of a maiden; his hair
chestnut."
" Oh I" cried poor Ethel, " that is he; it is my be¬
trothed, my adored Ordener! Where did you meet him ?
He told you that he loved me, did he not ? He told you
that he has my whole heart. Alas 1 a poor prisoner has
nothing but her love to give. My noble friend! It was
but a week ago,—I can see him still on this very spot,
with his green mantle, beneath which beats so generous
a heart, and that black plume, which waved so gracefully
above his broad brow."
She did not finish her sentence. The tall stranger
tottered, turned pale, then red, and cried in her ears in
tones of thunder: " Wretched girl, you love Ordener
Guldenlew, the betrothed of Ulrica d'Ahlefeld, the son
of your father's deadly foe, the viceroy of Norway 1"
Ethel fell fainting on the ground.
HANS OF ICELAND.
239
CHAPTER XXXVII.
Cmtpolican. "Walk so cautiously that the earth itself may not
catch your footfall. Redouble your precautions, friends. If we
arrive unheard, I will answer for the victory.
Tucapel. Night veils all; fearful darkness covers the earth.
We hear no sentinel; we have seen no spies.
Ringo. Let us advance I
• • • •• *• ••• ••
Tucapel. "What do I hear ? Are we discovered ?
Lope da "Vega : The Conquest of Arauco.
" I sat, Guidon Stayper, old fellow, the evening breeze
is beginning to blow my bairy cap about my bead rather
vigorously."
These words were spoken by Kennybol, as bis eyes
wandered for a moment from the giant who marched at
the bead of the insurgents, and half turned toward a
mountaineer whom the accident of a disorderly progress
bad placed beside bim.
His friend shook .bis bead and shifted bis banner from
one shoulder to the other, with a deep sigh of fatigue, as
be answered:
" Hum! I fancy. Captain, that in these confounded
Black Pillar gorges, through which the wind rushes like
a torrent let loose, we shall not be as warm to-night as if
we were flames dancing on the hearth."
" We must make such rousing fires that the old owls
will be scared from their nests among the rocks in their
ruined palace. I can't endure owls. On that horrid
night when I saw the fairy Ubfem she took the shape of
an owl."
" By Saint Sylvester! " interrupted Guidon Stayper,
turning his head, " the angel of the storm beats his wings
most furiously! Take my advice. Captain Kennybol,
and set fire to all the pine-trees on the mountain. It
would be a fine sight to see an army warm itself with a
whole forest."
" Heaven forbid, my dear Guidon! Think of the deer,
and the gerfalcpns, and the pheasants! Roast the game,
if you will, but do not burn it alive."
240
HANS OF ICELAND.
Old Guidon laughed: " Oh, Captain, you are the same
devil of a Kennybol,—the wolf of deer, the bear of wolves,
and the buffalo of bears !"
" Are we far from Black Pillar ? " asked a voice from
the huntsmen.
" Comrade," replied Kennybol, " we shall enter the
gorge at nightfall; we shall reach the Four Crosses
directly."
There was a brief silence, during which nothing was
heard but the tramp of many feet, the moaning of the
wind, and the distant song of the regiment of iron-workers
from Lake Mibsen.
"Friend Guidon Stayper," resumed Kennybol, when
he had whistled an old hunting-song, "you have just
passed a few days at Throndhjem, have you not?"
" Yes, Captain ; my brother George, the fisherman, was
ill, and I took his place in the boat for a short time, so
that his poor family might not starve while he was ill."
" Well, as you come from Throndhjem, did you happen
to see this count, the prisoner—Schumacker—Gleffenhem
—what is his name, now ? I mean that man in whose
behalf we have rebelled against the royal protectorate,
and whose arms I suppose you have on that big red fiag."
" It is heavy enough, I can tell you!" said Guidon.
" Do you mean the prisoner in Munkholm fortress,—the
count, if you choose to call him so; and how do you
suppose. Captain, that I should see him ? I should have
needed," he added, lowering his voice, " the eyes of that
demon marching in front of us, though he does not leave
a smell of brimstone behind him ; of that Hans of Iceland,
who can see through stone walls; or the ring of Queen
Mab, who passes through keyholes. There is but one
man among us now, I am sure, who ever saw the count,
—the prisoner to whom you refer."
" But one ? Ah! Mr. Hacket ? But this Hacket is no
longer with us; he left us to-day to return to—"
" I do not mean Mr. Hacket, Captain."
" And who then ? "
" That young man in the green mantle, with the black
plume, who burst into our midst last night."
" Well ? "
"Well!" said Guidon, drawing closer to Kennybolj
HANS OF ICELAND.
241
" lie knows the count,—this famous count, as well as I
know you. Captain Kennybol."
Kennybol looked at Guidon winked his left eye,
smacked his lips, and clapped his friend on the shoulder
with that triumphant exclamation which so often escapes
us when we are satisfied with our own penetration,—" I
thought as much ! "
" Yes. Captain," continued Guidon Stayper, changing
his flame-colored banner to the other shoulder; " I assure
you that the young man in gx-een has seen Count—I don't
know what you call him, the one for whom we are fight¬
ing—in Munkholm keep; and he seemed to think no
more of walking into that prison than you or I would of
shooting in a royal park."
" And how happen you to know this, brother Guidon ? "
The old mountaineer seized Kennybol by the arm, and
half opening his otter-skin waistcoat with a caution which
was almost suspicious, he said, " Look there ! "
" By my most holy patron saint! " exclaimed Kenny¬
bol ; " it glitters like diamonds ! "
It was indeed a superb diamond buckle, which fastened
Guidon Styper's rough belt.
" And they are real diamonds," he replied, closing his
waistcoat. " I am just as sure of it as I am that the moon
is two days' journey from the earth and that my belt is
made of buffalo leather."
Kennybol's face clouded, and his expression changed
from surprise to distress. He cast down his eyes, and
said with savage sternness : " Guidon Stayper,of Chol-Soe
village, in the Kiolen mountains, your father, Medprath
Stayper, died at the age of one hundred and two, without
reproach; for it was no crime to kill one of the king's
deer or elk by mistake. Guidon Stayper, fifty-seven good
years have passed over your gray head, which cannot be
called youth except for an owl. Guidon Stayper, old
friend, I would rather for your sake that the diamonds
in that buckle were grains of millet, if you did not come
by them honestly,—as honestly as a royal pheasant comes
by a leaden bullet."
As he pronounced this strange sermon, the mountain¬
eer's tone was Ijoth impressive and menacing.
" As truly as Captain Kennybol is the boldest hunter
i6
24-2
HAXS OF ICELAND.
ill Kiolen," replied Guidon, unmoved, " and as truly as
these diamonds are diamonds, they are my lawful prop¬
erty."
" Indeed !" said Kennybol, in accents which wavered
between confidence and doubt.
"God and my patron saint know," replied Guidon,
" that one evening, just as I was pointing out the Thrond-
hjem Spladgest to some sons of our good mother Nor¬
way, who were carrying thither the body of an officer
found dead on Urchtal Sands,—this was about a week
ago,—a young man stepped up to my boat. ' To Munk-
holm 1' says he to me. I was not at all anxious to obey,
Captain; a free bird never likes to fiy into the neighbor¬
hood of a cage. But the young gentleman had a haughty,
lordly manner; he was followed by a servant leading
two horses; he leaped into my boat with an air of author¬
ity ; I took up my oars, that is to say, my brother's oars.
It was my good angel that willed me to do so. "When
we reached the fortress, my young passenger, after ex¬
changing a few woi'ds with the officer on guard, flung me
in payment—as God hears me, he did. Captain—this
diamond buckle which I showed you, and which would
have belonged to my brother George, and not to me, if
at the time that the traveler—Heaven help him!—en¬
gaged me, the day's work which I was doing for George
had not been done. This is the truth, Captain Kenny¬
bol."
" "ST'ery good."
Little by little the captain's features had cleared as
much as their naturally hard and gloomy expression
would permit, and he asked Guidon in a softened voice f
" And are you sure, old fellow, that this young man is
the same who is now behind us with Norbith's followers ? "
" Sure 1 I could not mistake among a thousand faces
the face of him who made my fortune; besides, it is the
same cloak, the same black plume."
" I believe you. Guidon ! "
" And it is clear that he went there to see the famous
prisoner; for if he were not bound on some very mysteri¬
ous errand, he would never have rewarded so handsomely
the boatman who rowed him over; and besides, now that
he has joined us—"
HANS OF ICELAND.
2'13
" You are right."
" And I imagine, Captain, that this young stranger may
have far greater influence with the count whom we ai'e
about to set free than INIr. Racket, who strikes me, by my
soul! as only fit to mew like a wildcat."
Kenny bol nodded his head expressively.
" Comrade, you have said just what I meant to say.
I should be much more inclined in this whole matter to
obey that young gentleman than the envoy Racket.
Saint Sylvester and Saint Olaf help me ! but if the Ice¬
land demon be our commander, I believe, friend Guidon,
that we owe it far less to that magpie Racket than to
this stranger."
" Really, Captain ? " inquired Guidon.
Kennybol opened his mouth to answer, when he felt a
hand on his shoulder; it was Norbith.
" Kennybol, we are betrayed! Gormon Woestrcem has
just come from the South. The entire regiment of mus¬
keteers is marching against us. The Schleswig lancers
are at Sparbo; three companies of Danish dragoons await
the cavalry at Loevig. All along the road he saw as
many green jackets as there were bushes. Let us hasten
toward Skongen; let us not pause until we reach that
point. There, at least, we can defend ourselves. One
thing more; Gormon thinks that he saw the gleam of
muskets among the briers as he came through the defiles
of Black Pillar."
The young leader was pale and agitated; but his face
and voice still showed courage and resolution.
" Impossible ! " cried Kennybol.
"It is certain! certain ! " said Norbith.
" But Mr. Racket—"
" Is a traitor or a coward. Depend on what I say, friend
Kennybol. Where is this Racket ? "
At this moment old Jonas approached the two chiefs.
By the deep discouragement stamped upon his features
it was easily seen that he had learned the fatal news.
The eyes of the two elder men, Jonas and Kennybol,
met, and they shook their heads with one accord.
" Well, Jonas! Well, Kennybol! " said Norbith.
But the aged leader of the Faroe miners slowly passed
his hand acrosi his wrinkled brow, and in a low voice
244
HANS OF ICELAND.
answered the appealing look of the aged leader of the
Kiolen mountaineers: "Yes, it is but too true ; it is but
too certain. Gormon Woestroem saw them."
" If it be so," said Kennybol, " what is to be done ? "
" What is to be done ? " answered Jonas.
"I consider, friend Jonas, that we should do well to
halt."
" And better still, brother Kennybol, to retreat."
" Halt! retreat! " exclaimed Norbith ; " we must push
forward."
The two elders looked at the young man in cold
surprise.
" Push forward !" said Kennybol; " and how about the
Munkholm musketeers ? "
" And the Schleswig lancers ? " added Jonas.
" And the Danish dragoons ? " continued Kennybol.
Norbith stamped his foot.
" And the royal protectorate; and my mother dying of
cold and hunger ? "
" The devil, the royal protectorate!" said the miner
Jonas, with a shudder.
" Never mind ! " said Kennybol.
Jonas took Kennybol by the hand, saying : " Old fellow,
you have not the honor to be a ward of our glorious
sovereign. Christian IV. May the blessed king Olaf, in
heaven, deliver us from the protectorate!"
" You had better trust to your sword for that benefit!"
said Norbith, in a fierce tone.
" Bold words are easy to a young man, friend Norbith,"
answered Kennybol; " but consider that if we advance,
all these green jackets—"
" I think that it would be useless for us to return to our
mountains, like foxes running from wolves, for our names
and our revolt are known; and if we needs must die, I
prefer a musket-ball to the hangman's rope."
Jonas nodded assent.
" The devil! the protectorate for our brothers, the gal¬
lows for us ! Norbith may be right, after all."
" Give me your hand, good Norbith," said Kennybol;
"there is danger in either course. We may as well
march straight to the edge of the precipice as fall over
it backwards,"
HANS OF ICELAND.
245
" Come on! come on!" cried old Jonas, striking his
sword-hilt.
Norbith grasped them by the hand.
" Listen, brothers ! Be bold, like me ; I will be prudent,
like you. Let us not pause until we reach Skongen; the
garrison is weak, and we will overwhelm it. Let us pass,
since we must, through the defiles of Black Pillar, but in
utter silence. We must traverse them, even if they be
guarded by the enemy."
"I do not think that the musketeers have come so far
as Ordals bridge, beyond Skongen; but it matters not.
Silence!"
" Silence ! so be it!" repeated Kennybol.
" Now, Jonas," said Norbith, " let us return to our
posts. To-morrow we may be at Throndhjem in spite of
musketeers, lancers, dragoons, and all the green jerkins of
the South."
The three chiefs parted. Soon the watchword, " Si¬
lence ! " passed from rank to rank, and the insurgents, a
moment before so tumultuous, looked, in those waste
places darkened by approaching night, like a band of
mute ghosts roaming noiselessly through the winding
paths of a cemetery.
But their road became narrower every moment, and
seemed by degrees to dive between two walls of rock
which grew steeper and steeper. As the red moon rose
among a mass of cold clouds hovering about her with
weird inconstancy, Kennybol turned to Guidon Stayper,
saying, "We are about to enter Black Pillar Pass.
Silence !"
In fact, they already heard the roar of the torrent which
follows every turn of the road between the two moun¬
tains, and they saw, to the south, the huge granite pyra¬
mid known as the Black Pillar, outlined against the gray
sky and the surrounding snow-capped mountains; while
the western horizon, veiled in mists, was bounded by the
extreme verge of Sparbo forest, and by huge piles of rocks,
terraced as if a stairway for giants.
The rebels, forced to stretch their columns over this
crooked road compressed between two mountains, con¬
tinued their march. They penetrated those dark valleys
without lightings a torch, without uttering a sound. The
2i6
HANS OF ICELAND.
very sound of their footsteps was unheard amid the deaf¬
ening crash of waterfalls and the roar of a furious blast
which bowed the Druidical woods, and drove the clouds
in eddying whirls about tall peaks clad in snow and ice.
Lost in the dark depths of the gorge, the light of the
moon, which was veiled now and again, did not reach the
heads of their pikes, and the white eagles flying overhead
did not guess that so vast a multitude of men was troub¬
ling their solitude.
Once old Guidon Stayper touched Kennybol's shoulder
with the butt-end of his carbine, saying, " Captain, Cap¬
tain, something glimmers behind that tuft of holly and
broom."
" So it does," replied the mountain chief; " it is the
water of the stream reflecting the clouds." And they
passed on.
Again Guidon grasped his leader quickly by the arm.
" Look !" he said ; " are not those muskets, shining
yonder in the shadow of that rock ? "
Kennybol sbook his head; then, after looking atten¬
tively, he said, « Never fear, brother Guidon ; it is a moon¬
beam falling on an icy peak."
No further cause for alarm appeared, and the various
bands, as they marched quietly through the winding gorge,
insensibly forgot all the danger of their position.
After two hours of often painful progress, over the tree-
trunks and granite bowlders which blocked the road, the
vanguard entered the mountainous group of pine-trees at
the end of Black Pillar Pass, overhung by high, black,
moss-grown cliffs.
Guidon Stayper approached Kennybol, declaring that
he was delighted that they were at last almost out of this
cursed cut-throat place, and that they must render thanks
to Saint Sylvester that the Black Pillar had not been fatal
to them.
Kennybol laughed, swearing that he had never shared
such old-womanish fears; for with most men, when dan¬
ger is over it ceases to exist, and they try to prove by
their incredulity the courage which they perhaps failed to
display before.
At this moment two small round lights, like two live
HANS OF ICELAND.
247
coals, moving in the thick underwood, attracted his at¬
tention.
" By my soul's salvation! " he whispered, pulling Gui¬
don's arm, « see; those two blazing eyes must surely be¬
long to the fiercest wildcat that ever mewed in a thicket."
" You are right," replied old Stayper; " and if he were
not marching in front of us, I should rather think that
they were the wicked eyes of the demon of Ice—"
" Hush !" cried Kennybol. Then, seizing his carbine,
he added, " Truly, it shall not be said that such fine game
passed before Kennybol in vain."
The shot was fired before Guidon Stayper, who threw
himself upon the rash hunter, could prevent it. It was
not the shrill cry of a wildcat that answered the dis¬
charge of the gun ; it was the fearful howl of a tiger, fol¬
lowed by a burst of human laughter more frightful still.
No one heard the report as its dying echoes were pro¬
longed from rock to rock ; for the fiash of the powder had
no sooner lighted up the darkness, the fatal crack of the
gun had no sooner burst upon the silence, than a thou¬
sand terrible voices rang out unexpectedly from mountain,
valley, and forest; a shout of " Long live the king! " loud
as the rolling thunder, swept over the heads of the rebels,
close beside them, behind and before them, and the mur¬
derous light of a dreadful volley of musketry, bursting
from every hand, and striking them down, at the same
time disclosed, amid red clouds of smoke, a battalion be¬
hind every rock, and a soldier behind every tree.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
To arms ! to arms ! ye captains !
The Prisoner of Ochali.
We must now ask the reader to retrace with us the
day which has just passed, and to return to Skongen,
where, while the insurgents were leaving Apsyl-Corh
lead-mine, the regiment of musketeers, which we saw on
the march in an earlier chapter of this very truthful tale,
had just arrived.^
After giving a few orders in regard to billeting the sol-
248
HANS OF ICELAND.
diers under his command, Baron Voethaiin, colonel of the
musketeers, was about to enter the house assigned to him,
near the city gate, when a heavy hand was placed famil¬
iarly upon his shoulder. He turned and saw a short man,
whose face was almost wholly hidden by a broad-brimmed
straw hat. He had a bushy red beard, and was closely
wrapped in the folds of a gray serge cloak, which, by the
tattered cowl still hanging from it, seemed once to have
been a hermit's gown. His hands were covered with
thick gloves.
"Well, my good man," asked the colonel, sharply,
" what the deuce do you want ? "
" Colonel of the Munkholm musketeers," replied the
fellow, with an odd look, "follow me for a moment; I
have news for you."
At this singular request, the baron paused for a moment
in silent surprise.
" Important news. Colonel! " repeated the man with the
thick gloves.
This persistence decided Baron VoethaUn. At such a
crisis, and with such a mission as his, no information was
to be despised. " So be it," said he.
The little man preceded him, and as soon as they were
outside the town, he stopped. " Colonel, would you really
like to destroy all the insurgents at a single blow? "
The colonel laughed, saying, " Why, that would not be
a bad way to open the campaign."
"Very well! Then station your men in ambush this
very day, in Black Pillar Pass, two miles distant from the
town; the rebels are to encamp there to-night. When
you see their first fire blaze, fall upon them Avith your
troops. Victory will be easy."
" Excellent advice, my good man, and I thank you for
it; but how did you learn all this ? "
" If you knew me. Colonel, you would rather ask me
how I could fail to know it."
" Who are you, then ? "
The man stamped his foot. " I did not come here to
answer such questions."
" Fear nothing. Whoever you may be, the service
which you have done us must be your safeguard. Perhaps
you were one of the rebels ? "
IIAys OF ICELAyD.
249
" I refused to join them."
" Then why conceal your name, if you arc a loyal sub¬
ject of the king ? "
" What is that to you ? "
The colonel made another attempt to gain a little infor¬
mation as to this singular giver of advice. " Tell me, is it
true that the insurgents are under command of the
famous Hans of Iceland ? "
" Hans of Iceland!" repeated the little man, with
peculiar emphasis.
The baron repeated his question. A hurst of laughter,
which might have passed for the roar of a wild beast, was
the only answer which he could obtain. He ventured a
few more questions as to the number and the leaders of
the miners ; the little man silenced him.
" Colonel of the Munkholm musketeers, I have told
you all that I have to tell. Lie in wait to-day in Black
Pillar Pass with your entire regiment, and you may de¬
stroy the whole rebel force."
" You will not tell me who you are ; you thus prevent
the king from proving his gratitude ; but it is only right
that I should reward you for the service which you have
done me."
The colonel threw his purse at the small man's feet.
"Keep your gold, Colonel," said he; "I do not need
it. And," he added, pointing to a large bag which hung
from his rope girdle, " if you wish pay for killing these
men, I have money enough. Colonel, to give you for their
blood."
Before the colonel could recover from the surprise
caused by this mysterious being's inexplicable words, he
had vanished.
Baron Vcethaiin slowly retraced his steps, wondering
whether he should place any faith in the fellow's news.
As he entered his quarters, he was handed a letter, sealed
with the lord chancellor's arms. It contained a message
from Count d'Ahlefeld, which the colonel found, with
amazement that may be readily imagined, consisted of the
same piece of news and the same advice just given him
outside the city gate by the incomprehensible character
with the straw hat and the thick gloves.
250
HANS OF ICELAND.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
All must perish !
The sword cleaveth the helmet;
The strong armor is pierced by the lance ;
Fire devoureth the dwelling of princes ;
Engines break down the fences of the battle.
All must perish !
The race of Hengist is gone—
I The name of Horsa is no more !
Shrink not then from your doom, sons of the sword!
Let your blades drink blood like wine ;
Feast ye in the banquet of slaughter,
By the light of the blazing halls !
Strong be your swords while your blood is warm,
And spare neither for pity nor fear.
For vengeance hath but an hour ;
Strong hate itself shall expire !
I also must perish !
Walter Scott : Ivanhoe.
We will not try to describe the fearful confusion
which broke the already straggling ranks of the rebels,
when the fatal defile suddenly revealed to them all
its steep and bristling peaks, all its caverns peopled with
unlooked-for foes. It would be hard to say whether the
prolonged shout, made up of a thousand shrieks, which
rose from the columns of men thus unexpectedly mowed
down, was a yell of despair, of terror, or of rage. The
dreadful fire vomited against them from every side by
the now unmasked platoons of the royal troops, grew
hotter every moment; and before another shot from their
lines followed Kennybol's unfortunate volley, they were
wrapped in a stifling cloud of burning smoke, through
which death flew blindly, where each man, shut off from
his friends, could but dimly distinguish the musketeers,
lancers, and dragoons, moving vaguely among the cliffs
and upon the edge of the thickets, like demons in a red-
hot furnace.
The insurgents, thus scattered over a distance of a mile,
upon a narrow, winding road, bordered on one side by a
deep torrent, on the other ])y a rocky wall, which made it
impossible for them to turn and fall back, were like a ser-
HANS OF ICELAND.
251
pent destroyer! by a blorv on the back, when he has nn-
wound all his spirals, and, though cut to pieces, still tries
to turn and coil, striving to unite his separate fragments.
When their first surprise was past, a common despair
seemed to animate all these men, naturally fierce and
intrepid. Frantic with rage to be thus overwhelmed
without the possibility of defence, the rebels uttered a
simultaneous shout,—a shout which in an instant drowned
the clamor of their triumphant foes; and when the latter
saw these men, without leaders, in dire disorder, almost
destitute of weapons, climbing perpendicular clitfs, under
a terrible .fire, clinging with tooth and nail to the bushes
growing on the verge of the precipice, brandishing ham¬
mers and pitchforks, the well-armed troops, well-drilled,
securely posted as they were, although they had not yet
lost a single man, could not resist a moment of involuntary
panic.
Several times these barbarians clambered over a bridge
of dead bodies, or upon the shoulders of their comrades
planted against the rock like a living ladder, to the
heights held by their assailants; but they had scarcely
cried, "Liberty!" had scarcely lifted their hatchets or
their knotted clubs,—they had scarcely showed their
blackened faces, foaming with convulsive rage, ere they
were hurled into the abyss, dragging with them such of
their rash companions as they encountered in their fall,
hanging to some bush or hugging some cliff.
The efforts of these unfortunates to fiy and to defend
themselves were fruitless. Every outlet was guarded;
every accessible point swarmed with soldiers. The
greater part of the luckless rebels bit the dust, perish¬
ing when they had shattered scythe or cutlass upon some
granite fragment; some, folding their arms, their eyes
fixed upon the ground, sat by the roadside, silently wait¬
ing for a ball to hurl them into the torrent below; those
whom Racket's forethought had provided with wretched
muskets, fired a few chance shots at the summit of the
cliffs and the mouth of the caves, from which a cease¬
less rain of shot fell upon their heads. A tremendous
uproar, in which the furious shouts of the rebel leaders
and the quiet commands of the king's officers were plainly
distmguishable, Vas mingled with the intermittent and
252
HANS OF ICELANJ).
frequent din of musketry, while a bloody vapor rose and
floated above the scene of carnage, veiling the face of
the mountains in tremulous mists; and the stream, white
with foam, flowed like an enemy between the two bodies
of hostile men, bearing away upon its bosom its prey
of corpses.
In the earlier stage of the action, or rather of the
slaughter, the Kiblen mountaineers, under the brave and
reckless Kennybol, were the greatest sufferers. It will
be remembered that they formed the advance-guard of the
rebel army, and that they had entered the pine wood at
the head of the pass. The ill-fated Kennybol had no .
sooner fired his gun, than the forest, peopled as by magic
with hostile sharpshooters, surrounded them with a ring
of fire; while from a level height, commanded by a number
of huge bowlders, an entire battalion of the Munkholm
regiment, formed in a hollow square, battered them un¬
ceasingly with a fearful musketry. In this horrible emer¬
gency, Kennybol, distracted and aghast, gazed at the
mysterious giant, his only hope of safety lying in some
superhuman power such as that of Hans of Iceland; but,
alas! the awful demon did not suddenly unfold broad
wings and soar above the combatants, spitting forth fire
and brimstone upon the musketeers ; he did not gi'ow and
grow until he reached the clouds, and overthrow a moun¬
tain upon the foe, or stamp upon the earth and open a
yawning gulf to swallow up the ambushed army. The
dreadful Hans of Iceland shrank like Kennybol from the
first volley of shot, and approaching him, with troubled
countenance, asked for a carbine, because, he said, in a
very commonplace tone, at such a time his ax was quite
as useless as any old woman's spindle.
Kennybol, amazed, but still credulous, offered his own
musket to the giant Avith a terror which almost made him
forget his fear of the balls showering about him. Still
expecting a miracle, he looked to see his fatal weapon be¬
come as big as a cannon in the hands of Hans of Iceland,
or to see it change into a winged dragon darting fire from
eyes, mouth, and nostrils. Nothing of the sort occurred,
and the poor hunter's astonishment reached its climax
when he saw the demon load the gun with ordinary
powder and shot, just as he himself might have done, take
TTAN.<i OF ICFLAyB.
253
aim like himself, and fire, though with far less skill tlran
he would have shown. He stared at him in stupid sur¬
prise, as this purely mechanical act was repeated again
and again; and convinced at last that all hope of a mir¬
acle must be abandoned, he turned his thoughts to rescu¬
ing his companions and himself from their evil predica¬
ment by some human means. Already his poor old friend
Guidon Stayper lay beside him, riddled "with bullets;
already his followers, terrified and unable to escape, sur¬
rounded on every hand, huddled together without a
thought of defence, uttering distressing cries. Kenny-
bol saw what an easy target this mass of men afforded
the enemy's guns, each discharge destroying a score of
the insurgents. He ordered his unfortunate companions
to scatter, to take refuge in the bushes along the road,—
much thicker and larger at this point than anywhere else
in Black Pillar Pass,—to hide in the underbrush, and to
reply as best they could to the more and more murderous
fire from the sharpshooters and the Munkholm battalion.
The mountaineers, for the most part well armed, being all
hunters, carried out their leader's order with a readiness
which they might not have displayed at a less critical
moment; for in the face of danger men usually lose their
head, and obey willingly any one who has presence of
mind and self-possession to act for all.
Still, this wise measure was far from insuring victory,
or even safety. More mountaineers lay stretched upon
the ground than still lived, and in spite of the example
and encouragement offered them by their leader and the
giant, several of them, leaning on their useless guns or
prostrate with the wounded, obstinately persisted in wait¬
ing to be killed without taking the trouble to kill others
in return. It may seem amazing that these men, in the
habit of exposing their life every day in their expeditions
over the glaciers in pursuit of wild beasts, should lose
heart so soon; but let no one forget that in vulgar hearts
courage is purely local. A man may laugh at shot and
shell, and shiver in the dark or on the edge of a precipice ;
a man may face fierce animals daily, leap across fearful
abysses, and yet run from a volley of artillery. Fearless¬
ness is often only a habit; and one who has ceased to fear
death under cer^in forms, dreads it none the less.
254
HANS OF ICELAND.
Kennybol, surrounded by heaps of dying friends, begaL
himself to despair, although as yet he had received only
a slight scratch on his left arm, and the diabolical giant
still kept up his fire with the most comforting composure.
All at once he saw an extraordinary confusion in the fatal
battalion posted on the heights, which could not be caused
by the slight damage inflicted by the very feeble resistance
of his followers. lie heard fearful shrieks of agony, the
curses of the dying, exclamations of terror, rise from the
victors.
Soon their flre slackened, the smoke cleared away, and
he distinctly saw huge masses of granite falling upon the
Munkholm musketeers from the top of the high cliff over¬
looking the level height upon which they were stationed.
These bowlders succeeded one another with awful rapid¬
ity; they crashed one upon the other, and rebounded
among the soldiers, who breaking their lines rushed in
dire disorder down the hill, and fled in every direction.
At this unexpected aid, Kennybol turned ; but the giant
was still there ! The mountaineer was dumfounded ; for
he supposed that Hans of Iceland had at last found his
wings and taken his place upon the cliff, from which he
overwhelmed the enemy. He looked up to the spot
whence those fearful masses fell, and saw nothing. He
could therefore only suppose that a party of rebels had
succeeded in reaching this dangerous position, although
he saw no glitter of weapons, and heard no shouts of
triumph.
However, the flre from the plateau had wholly ceased;
the trees hid the remnant of the royal troops, who were
probably rallying their forces at the foot of the hill. The
musketry from the sharpshooters also became less fre¬
quent. Kennybol, like a skilful leader, took advantage of
this unexpected interval; he encouraged his men, and
showed them, by the somber light which reddened the
scene of slaughter, the pile of corpses heaped upon the
height, and the bowlders which still fell at intervals.
Then the mountaineers in their turn answered the
enemy's groans with shouts of victory. They formed in
line, and although still harassed by sharpshooters scat¬
tered among the bushes, they resolved, filled with fresh
courage, to force their way out of this ill-omened defile.
IIANSi OF ICELAND.
The column thus formed was about to move; Kennybol
had already given the signal with his horn, amid loud
cries of " Liberty ! liberty ! No more protectorate!" when
the notes of trumpet and drum sounding a charge were
heard directly in front of them Then the rest of the bat¬
talion from the height, strengthened by reinforcements of
fresh troops, appeared within gunshot at a turn in the
road, displaying a bristling line of pikes and bayonets
upheld by rank upon rank as far as the eye could reach. *
Arriving thus unexpectedly in sight of Kennybol's divi¬
sion, the troops halted, and a man, who seemed to be the
commanding officer, stepped forward, waving a white flag
and escorted by a trumpeter.
The unforeseen appearance of this troop did not dismay
Kennybol. In time of danger there is a point where sur¬
prise and fear become impossible.
At the first sound of trumpet and drum the old fox
of Kiolen halted his men. As the royal troops drew up
before him in line of battle, he ordered every gun to be
loaded, and formed his mountaineers in double ranks, so
that they might not offer so broad a mark for the enemy's
fire. He placed himself at the head, the giant at his side,
as in the heat of action, for he began to feel quite familiar
with him, and observed that his eyes did not flame quite
so brightly as a smithy's forge, and that his pretended
claws were by no means as unlike ordinary human finger¬
nails as was claimed for them. .
When the officer in command of the musketeers stepped
forward as if to surrender, and the sharpshooters ceased
firing, although their loud shouts, ringing out on every
hand, declared them still ambushed in the forests, he
suspended his preparations for defence.
Meantime, the officer with the white flag had reached
the center of the space between the two hostile columns ;
here he paused, and the trumpeter accompanying him
blew three loud blasts. The officer then cried in a loud
voice, distinctly heard by the mountaineers, in spite of
the ever increasing tumult of the battle raging behind
them in the mountain gorges: " In the king's name ! The
king graciously pardons all those rebels who throw down
their arms and surrender their leaders to his Majesty's
supreme justice!"
BANS OF ICELAND.
The bearer of the flag of truce had scarcely pronounced
those words, when a shot was flred from a neighboring
thicket. The officer staggered, took a few steps forward,
raising his flag above his head, and fell, exclaiming:
" Treason !"
No one knew whose hand had fired the fatal shot.
" Treason ! Cowardly treason ! " repeated the royal
troops, with a thrill of indignation.
And a fearful volley of musketry overwhelmed the
mountaineers.
"Treason!" replied the mountaineers in their turn,
made furious as they saw their brothers fall.
And a general discharge answered the unexpected at¬
tack from the royal troops.
"At them, comrades! Death to those vile cowards!
Death! " cried the officers of the musketeers.
And both parties rushed forward with drawn swords,
the two contending columns meeting directly over the
body of the unfortunate officer, with a fearful din of arms.
The broken ranks were soon inextricably confounded.
Rebel chiefs, king's officers, soldiers, mountaineers, all
pell-mell ran their heads together, seized one another,
grappled like two bands of famished tigers meeting in the
desert. Their long pikes, bayonets, and partisans were
now useless; swords and hatchets alone gleamed above
their heads, and many of the combatants, in their hand-
to-hand struggle, could use no other weapon than their
dagger or their teeth.
The same rage and fury inspired both mountaineers and
musketeers ; the common cry of " Treason! Vengeance ! "
sprang from every mouth. The fray had reached a point
when every heart was full of brutal ferocity, when men
walked with utter indifference over heaps of wounded
and dead, amid which the dying revive only to make one
last attack on him who tramples them under foot.
At this moment a short man, whom several combatants,
amid the smoke and streaming blood, took for a wild
beast, in his dress of skins, flung himself into the thick
of the carnage, with awful laughter and yells of joy.
None knew whence he came, nor upon which side he
fought; for his stone ax did not choose its victims, but
smote alike the skull of a rebel and the head of a mus-
TIAXS OF ICELAND.
keteer. He seemed, however, to prefer slaying the Mimk-
holm troops. All gave way befox'e him ; he rushed through
the fray like a disembodied spirit; and his bloody ax
whirled about him without a pause, scattering fragments
of flesh, lacerated limbs, and shattered bones on every
side.
He shrieked " Vengeance! " as did all the rest, and ut¬
tered strange words, the name of " Gill" recurring fre¬
quently. This fearful stranger seemed to regard the
slaughter as a feast.
A mountaineer upon whom his murderous glance fell
threw himself at the feet of the giant in whom Kennybol
had placed such vain trust, crying : " Hans of Iceland,
save me !"
" Hans of Iceland ! " repeated the little man.
He approached the giant.
" Are you Hans of Iceland ? " he asked.
The giant, by way of answer, raised his ax. The small
man sprang back, and the blade, as it fell, was buried in
the skull of the wretch who had implored his aid.
The unknown laughed aloud.
" Ho! ho! by Ingulf! I thought Hans of Iceland was
more skilful."
" It is thus that Hans of Iceland saves those who pray
to him for help! " said the giant.
" Yon are right."
The two dreadful champions attacked each other madly.
Stone ax and steel ax met; they clashed so fiercely that
both blades flew in fragments, with a myriad sparks.
Quicker than thought, the little man, finding himself
disarmed, seized a heavy wooden club, dropped by some
dying man, and evading the giant, who stooped to grasp
him in his arms, dealt a furious blow with both hands on
the broad brow of his colossal antagonist.
The giant uttered a stifled shriek, and fell. The little
man trampled him under foot in triumph, foaming with
joy, and exclaiming, "You bore a name too heavy for
you! " and brandishing his victorious mace, he rushed in
search of fresh victims.
The giant was not dead. The force of the blow had
stunned him, and he dropped senseless, but soon opened
his eyes, and gave faint signs of returning life. A mus-
17
25,9
TIAN.<i OF ICELAND.
keteer, seeing him through the uproar, threw himself upon
him, shouting, " Hans of Iceland is taken ! Victory! "
" Hans of Iceland is taken!" repeated every voice,
whether in tones of triumph or distress.
The little man had vanished.
For some time the mountaineers had realized that
they must perforce submit to superior numbers; for the
Munkholm musketeers had been joined by the sharp¬
shooters from the forest, and by detachments of lancers
and foot dragoons, who poured in from deep gorges, where
the surrender of many of the rebel leaders had put a stop
to slaughter. Brave Kennybol, wounded early in the
fight, was made a prisoner. Hans of Iceland's capture
deprived the mountaineers of such courage as they still
possessed, and they threw down their arms.
When the first beams of the rising sun gilded the sharp
peaks of lofty glaciers still half submerged in darkness,
mournful peace and fearful silence reigned in Black Pillar
Pass, broken only by feeble moans borne away by the
chill breeze.
Black clouds of crows flocked to those fatal gorges
from every quarter of the horizon ; and a few poor goat¬
herds, who passed the cliffs at twilight, hastened home in
terror, declaring that they had seen an animal with the
face of a man in Black Pillar Pass, seated on a heap of
slain, drinking their blood.
CHAPTER XL.
Let him who will, burn beneath these smoldering fires.—Bran-
tome.
" Open- the window, daughter ; those panes are very
dirty, and I would fain see the day."
" See the day, father ! It will soon be night."
" The sun still lies on the hills along the fjord. I long
to breathe the free air through my prison hars. The sky
is so clear ! "
" Father, a storm is at hand."
" A storm, Ethel! Where do you see it ? "
" It is because the sky is clear, father, that I foresee
a storm."
I
HANS OF ICELAND.
259
The old man looked at his daughter in surprise.
" Had I reasoned thus in my youth, I should not be
here." Then he added in a firmer tone : " What you say
is correct, but it is not a common inference for one of your
age. I do not understand why your youthful reasoning
should be so like my aged experience."
Ethel's eyes fell, as if she wei'e troubled by this serious
and simple remark. She clasped her hands sadly, and a
deep sigh heaved her breast.
" Daughter," said the aged prisoner, " for some days you
have looked pale, as if life had never warmed the blood
in your veins. For several mornings you have approached
me with red and swollen lids, witli eyes that have wept
and watched. I have passed several days in silence, Ethel,
with no effort on your part to rouse me from my gloomy
meditations on the past. You sit beside me more melan¬
choly even than myself; and yet you are not, like your
father, weighed down by the burden of a whole lifetime
of empty inaction. Morning clouds vanish quickly. You
are at that period of existence when you can choose in
dreams a future independent of the present, be it what it
may. What troubles you, my daughter? Thanks to
your constant captivity, you are sheltered from all sudden
calamity. What error have you committed ? I cannot
think that you are grieving for me ; you must by this time
be accustomed to my incurable misfortunes. Hope, to
be sure, can no longer be the subject of my discourse; but
that is no reason why I should read despair in your eyes."
As he spoke these words, the prisoner's stern voice
melted with paternal love. Ethel stood silently before
hiin. All at once she turned away with an almost convul¬
sive motion, fell upon her knees on the stone floor, and
hid her face in her hands, as if to stifle the tears and sobs
which burst from her.
Too much wo filled full the wretched girl's heart. What
had she done to that fatal stranger, that she should reveal
to her the secret that was eating away her very life ? Alas !
since she had known her Ordener's true name, the poor
child had not closed her eyes, nor had her soul known rest.
Night brought her no alleviation, save that then she could
weep freely anjJ unseen. All was over! He was not hers,
he who was hers by all her memories, by all her pangs.
2G0
HANS OF ICELAND.
by all her prayers, he whose wife she had held herself to
be upon the faith of her dreams. For the evening when
Ordener had clasped her so tenderly in his arms was no
more than a dream to her now. And in truth that sweet
dream had been repeated nightly in her sleep. Was it a
guilty love which she still cherished for that absent friend,
struggle against it as she might ? Her Ordener was be¬
trothed to another ! And who can tell what that virginal
heart endured when the strange and unknown sentiment
of jealousy found entrance there like a poisonous viper ?
When she tossed for long sleepless hours upon her fevered
bed, picturing her Ordener, perhaps even then, in the arms
of another, fairer, richer, nobler than herself ? For,
thought she, I was mad indeed to suppose that he would
brave death for me. Ordener is the son of a viceroy, of a
great lord, and I am nothing but a poor prisoner, nothing
but the daughter of a proscribed and exiled man. He has
left me, for he is free ; and left me, no doubt, to wed his
lovely betrothed,—the daughter of a chancellor, a minister,
a haughty count! Has my Ordener deceived me, then ?
Oh, God! who would have thought that such a voice was
capable of deceit?
And the wretched Ethel wept and wept again, and saw
her Ordener before her, the man whom she had made
the unwitting divinity of her whole being, that Ordener
adorned with all the splendor of his rank, advancing to
the altar amid festal preparations, and gazing upon her
rival with the smile that had once been her delight.
However, in spite of her unspeakable agony, she never
for an instant forgot her filial affection. The weak girl
made the most heroic efforts to conceal her distress from
her unfortunate father; for there is nothing more painful
than to repress all outward signs of grief, and tears un¬
shed are far more bitter than those that flow. Several
days had passed before the silent old man observed the
change in his Ethel, and at his affectionate questions her
long-repressed grief had at last burst forth.
For some time he watched her emotion with a bitter
smile and a shake of the head; but at last he said:
" Ethel, you do not live among men; why do you
weep ? "
He bad scarcely finished these words, when the sweet
BANS OF ICELAND.
2G1
and noble girl rose. By a great effort she checked her
tears, and dried her eyes with her scarf, saying : " Father,
forgive me; it was a momentary weakness." And she
looked at him with an attempt to smile.
She went to the back of the room, found the Edda,
seated herself by her taciturn father, and opened the book
at random ; then, mastering her voice, she began to read.
But her useless task was unheeded by her and by the old
man, who waved his hand.
" Enough, enough, my daughter!"
She closed her book.
" Ethel," added Schumacher, " do you ever think of
Ordener ?"
The young girl started in confusion.
"Yes," he continued, "of that Ordener who went—"
" Father," interrupted Ethel, " why should we trouble
ourselves about him ? I think as you do,—that he left
us, never to return."
" Never to return, my daughter! I cannot have said
such a thing. On the contrary, I have a strange presenti¬
ment that he will come back."
" That was not your opinion, father, when you spoke so
distrustingly of the young man."
" Did I speak distrustfully of him ? "
"Yes, father, and I agree with you; I think that he
deceived us."
" That he deceived us, daughter! If I judged him thus,
I acted like most men who condemn without proof. I
have received notliing but professions of devotion from
this Ordener."
"And how do you know, father, that those cordial
words did not hide treacherous thoughts ? "
"Usually men disregard misfortune and disgrace.—If
this Ordener were not attached to me, he would not have
visited my prison without a purpose."
" Are you sure," replied Ethel, feebly, " that he had no
purpose in coming here ? "
" What could it be ? " eagerly asked the old man.
Ethel was silent.
It was too great an effort for her to continue to accuse
her beloved Ordener, whom she had formerly defended
against her fatfier.
262
HANS OF ICELAND.
" I am no longer Count Griffenfeld," he resumed. " I
am no longer lord chancellor of Denmark and Norway,
the favored dispenser of royal bounty, the all-powerful
minister. I am a miserable prisoner of State, a proscribed
man, to be shunned like one stricken with the plague.
It shows courage even to mention my name without
execration to the men whom I overwhelmed with honors
and wealth; it shows devotion for a man to cross the
threshold of this dungeon unless he be a jailer or an ex¬
ecutioner ; it shows heroism, my girl, for a man to cross
it and call himself my friend. No; I will not be un¬
grateful, like the rest of humanity. That young man
merits my gratitude, were it only for letting me see a
kindly face and hear a consoling voice."
Ethel listened in agony to these words, which would
have charmed her a few days earlier, when this Ordener
was still cherished as her Ordener. The old man, after a
brief pause, resumed in a solemn tone : " Listen to me, my
daughter; for what I have to say to you is serious. I
feel that I am fading slowly; my life is ebbing. Yes,
daughter, my end is at hand."
Ethel interrupted him with a stifled groan.
" Oh God, father, say not so! For mercy's sake, spare
your poor daughter! Alas! would you forsake me ?
What would become of me, alone in the world, if I were
deprived of your protection ? "
" The protection of a proscribed man ! " said her father,
shaking his head. " However, that is the very thing of
which I have been thinking. Yes, your future happiness
occupies me even more than my past misfortunes; hear
me, therefore, and do not interrupt me again. This
Ordener does not deserve that you should judge him so
sevei'ely, my daughter, and I had not hitherto thought
that you felt such dislike to him. His appearance is
frank and noble, which proves nothing, truly ; but I
must say that he does not sti'ike me as without merit,
although it is enough that he has a human soul, for it to
contain the seeds of every vice and every crime. There
is no flame without smoke."
The old man again paused, and fixing his eyes upon his
daughter, added : " Warned from within of approaching
death, I have pondeied much, Ethel; and if he return,
BANS OF ICELAND.
2G3
as I hope he may, I shall make him your protector and
husband."
Ethel trembled and turned pale ; at the very moment
when her dream of happiness had fled forever, her father
strove to realize it. The bitter reflection, «I might have
been happy ! " revived all the violence of her despair. For
some moments she was unable to speak, lest the burning
tears which filled her eyes should flow afresh.
Her father waited for her answer.
" What! " she said at last in a faiiit voice, " would you
have chosen him for my husband, father, without knowing
his birth, his family, his name ? "
" I not only chose him, my daughter, I choose him still."
The old man's tone was almost imperious. Ethel
sighed.
" I choose him for you, I say; and what is his birth to
me ? I do not care to know his family, since I know him.
Think of it; he is the only anchor of salvation left to you.
Fortunately, I believe that he does not feel the same aver¬
sion for you which you show for him."
The poor girl raised her eyes to heaven.
" You hear me, Ethel! I repeat, what is his birth to
me ? He is doubtless of obscure rank, for those born in
palaces are not taught to frequent prisons. Do not show
such proud regret, my daughter; do not forget that Ethel
Schumacker is no longer Princess of Wollin and Countess
of Tbnsberg. You have fallen lower than the point from
which your father rose by his own efforts. Consider your¬
self happy if this man accept your hand, be his family
what it may. If he be of humble birth, so much the bet¬
ter, my daughter; at least your days will be sheltered
from the storms which have tormented your father. Far
from the envy and hatred of men, under some unknown
name, you will lead a modest existence, very different from
mine, for its end will be better than its beginning."
Ethel fell on her knees.
" Oh, father, have mercy ! "
He opened his arms to her in amazement.
" What do you mean, my daughter ? "
" In'Heaven's name, do not describe a happiness which
is not for me ! *
" Ethel," sternly answered the old man, " do not risk
264
HANS OF ICELAND.
your whole life. I refused the hand of a princess of the
blood i'oyal, a princess of Holstein Augustenburg,—do you
hear that?—and my pride was cruelly punished. You
despise an obscure but loyal man; tremble lest yours be
as sadly chastised."
"Would to Heaven," sighed Ethel, " that he were an
obscure and loyal man! "
The old man rose, and paced the room in agitation.
" My daughter," said he, " your poor father implores and
commands you. Do not let me die uncertain as to j'our
future ; promise me that you will accept this stranger as
your husband."
" I will obey you always, father; but do not hope that
he will return."
" I have weighed the probabilities, and I think from the
tone in which Ordener uttered your name—"
" That he loves me! " bitterly interrupted Ethel. " Oh,
no; do not believe it."
The father answered coldly ; " I do not know whether,
to use your girlish expression, he loves you; but I know
that he will return."
" Give up that idea, father; besides, you would not
wish him for your son-in-law if you knew who he is."
" Ethel, he shall be my son-in-law, be his name and
rank what they may."
"Well!" she replied, "how if this young man, whom
you regard as your solace, whom you consider as your
daughter's support, be the son of one of your mortal foes,
—of the viceroy of Norway, Count Guldenlew ? "
Schumacker started back.
" Heavens! what do you say ? Ordener ! that Or¬
dener ! It is impossible I "
The look of unutterable hatred which flashed from the
old man's faded eyes froze Ethel's trembling heart, and
she vainly repented the rash words which she had ut¬
tered.
The blow was struck. For a few moments Schumacker
stood motionless, Avith folded arms ; his whole body quiv¬
ered as if laid upon live coals; his flaming eyes sbirted
from their sockets ; and his gaze, riveted to the pavement,
seemed as if it would pierce the stones. At last these
words issued from his livid lips in a voice as faint that
HANS OF ICELAND.
265
of a man who dreams. " Ordener! Yes, it must be so;
Ordener Guldenlew! It is well. Come, Schumacker,
old fool, open your arms to him; the loyal youth has
come to stab you to the heart."
Suddenly he stamped upon the ground, and went on in
tones of thunder: " So they send their whole infamous
race to insult me in my disgrace and captivity ! I have
already seen a d'Ahlefeld ; I almost smiled upon a Gul¬
denlew ! Monsters I Who would ever have thought that
this Ordener possessed such a soul and bore such a name!
Wretched me 1 Wretched he!"
Then he fell exhausted into his chair, and while his
breast heaved with sighs, poor Ethel, trembling with
fright, wept at his feet.
" Do not weep, my daughter," said he, in gloomy tones;
" come, oh, come to my heart! "
And he clasped her in his arms.
Ethel knew not how to explain this caress at a moment
of rage, but he resumed : " At least, girl, you were more
clear-sighted than your old father. You were not de¬
ceived by that serpent with gentle but venomous eyes.
Come! let me thank you for the hatred which you have
shown me that you feel for that contemptible Ordener."
She shuddered at these praises, alas ! so ill-deserved.
" Father," said she, " be calm I"
" Promise me," added Schumacker, " that you will al¬
ways retain the same feeling for the son of Guldenlew.
Swear it!"
" God forbids us to swear, father."
" Swear, swear, girl!" vehemently repeated Schu¬
macker. " Will you always retain the same feeling for
Ordener Guldenlew ? "
Ethel had scarcely strength to falter, " Always."
The old man drew her to his heart.
" It is well, my daughter! Let me at least bequeath to
you my hate, if I cannot leave you the wealth and honors
of which I was robbed. Listen ! they deprived your old
father of rank and glory; they dragged him in irons to
the gallows, as if to stain him with every infamy and
make him endure every torment. Wretches! Oh, may
heaven and helj hear me, and may they be cursed ui this
life and cursed in their posterity !"
206
UAyS OF ICELAND.
He was silent for a moment; then, embracing his poor
daughter, terrified by his curses: " But Ethel, my only
glory and my only treasure, tell me, how was your in¬
stinct so much more skilful than mine ? How did you
discover that this traitor bears one of the abhorred names
inscribed upon my heart in gall ? How did you penetrate
his secret ? "
She was summoning all her strength to answer, when
the door opened.
A man dressed in black, carrying in his hand an ebony
wand, and wearing about his neck a chain of unpolished
steel, appeared upon the threshold, escorted by halber¬
diers also dressed in black.
"What do you want?" asked the captive, sharply, and
in astonishment.
The man, without replying or looking at him, unrolled
a long parchment, to which was fastened by silken threads
a seal of green wax, and read aloud : " In the name of his
Majesty, our most gracious sovereign and lord. Christian
the king. Schumacker, prisoner of state in the royal fort¬
ress of Munkholm, and his daughter, are commanded to
follow the bearer of the said command."
Schumacker repeated his question: " What do you
want ? "
The man in black, still immovable, prepared to re-read
the document.
" That will do," said the old man.
Then, rising, lie signed to the surprised and startled
Ethel to follow with him this dismal escort.
CHAPTER XLI.
A doleful signal was given, an abject minister of justice
knocked at his door and informed him that he was wanted.—
Joseph de Maistre.
Night had fallen; a cold wind whistled around the
Cursed Tower, and tlie doors of Vygia ruin rattled on
their hinges, as if the same hand had shaken all of them
at once.
The wild inhabitants of the tower, the hangman and
Then, rising, he signed to the surprised and startled Ethel to
follow him. Page 266.
Hans of Iceland.
IIAXS OF ICELAND.
207
his family, had gathered about the fire lighted in the
middle of the room on the first floor, whieh cast a fitful
glow upon their dark faces and scarlet garments. The
children's features were fierce as their father's laughter
and haggard as their mother's gaze. Their eyes, as well
as those of Beoky A\ ere fixed on Orugix, who, seated on a
wooden stool, seemed to be recovering his breath, his
feet covered with dust, showing that he had but just
returned from some distant trip.
" Wife, listen; listen, children. I've not been gone two
whole days merely to bring back bad news. If I am not
made executioner to the king before another month is
out, I wish I may never tie another slip-noose or handle
an ax again. Rejoice, my little wolf-cubs; your father
may leave you the Copenhagen scaffold by way of an in¬
heritance, after all."
"Nychol," asked Becky, " what has happened? "
"Andyou, my old gipsy," rejoined Nychol, with his
boisterous laugh, " rejoice too! You can buy any number
of blue glass necklaces to adorn your long skinny neck.
Our agreement will soon be up; but never fear, in a
month, when you see me chief hangman of both king¬
doms, you will not refuse to break another jug with
me." *
" What is it, what is it, father ? " asked the children,
the older of whom was playing with a blood}"^ rack, while
the little one amused himself by plucking alive a young
bird which he had stolen from the nest.
" What is it, children ?—Kill that bird, Ilaspar ; it
makes as much noise as a rusty saw; and besides, you
should never be cruel. Kill it.—What is it, you say ?
Nothing,—a trifle, truly; nothing, dame Becky, save that
within a week from this time ex-chancellor Shumacker,
who is a prisoner at Munkholm, after looking me so
closely in the face at Copenhagen, and the famous brig¬
and of Iceland, Hans of Klipstadur, may perhaps both
pass through my hands at once."
The red woman's wandering eye assumed an expres¬
sion of surprised curiosity.
" Schumacker ! Hans of Iceland ! How is that,
Nychol ? " ,
* The Gipsy form of marriage.
2G8
HANS OF ICELAND.
"I'll tell you all about it. Yesterday morning, on the
road to Skongen, at Ordals bridge, I met the whole regi¬
ment of musketeers from Munkholm marching back to
Throndhjem with a very victorious air. I questioned one
of the soldiers, who condescended to answer, probably be¬
cause he did not know why my jerkin and my cart were
red. I learned that the musketeers were returning from
Black Pillar Pass, where they had cut to pieces various
bands of brigands,—that is to say, insurgent miners.
Now, you must know, gipsy Becky, that these rebels re¬
volted in Schumacker's name, and were commanded by
Hans of Iceland. You must know that his uprising ren¬
ders Hans of Iceland guilty of the crime of insurrection
against royal authority, and Schumacker guilty of high
treason, which will naturally lead those two honorable
gentlemen to the scaffold or the block. Add to these two
superb executions, which cannot fail to bring me in at
least fifteen gold ducats each, and to entitle me to the
greatest honor in both kingdoms, several other though less
important ones—"
" But do tell me," interrupted Becky, " has Hans of
Iceland been captured ? "
" Why do you interrupt your lord and master, miser¬
able woman ? " said the hangman. "Yes, to be sure, the
famous, the impregnable Hans of Iceland is a prisoner,
together with several other leaders of the brigands, his
lieutenants, who will also bring me in twelve crowns
apiece, to say nothing of the sale of their bodies. He was
captured, I tell you; and I saw him, if you must know
all the particulars, march by between a double file of
soldiers."
The woman and children crowded eagerly about Orugix.
" What! did you really see him, father ? " asked the
children.
" Be quiet, boys. You shriek like a rogue protesting
his innocence. I saw him; he is a giant. His hands
were tied behind his back, and his forehead was ban¬
daged. I suppose he was wounded in the head. But
never fear, I will soon heal his hurt for him." Accompa¬
nying these brutal words with a brutal gesture, the hang¬
man added: " There were four of his comrades behind him,
prisoners too and wounded, like him, who were being taken.
HANS OF ICELAND. 209
like him, to Throndhjem, where they are to be tried with
ex-chancellor Sclmmacker by a court of justice presided
over by the lord mayor and the present chancellor ? "
"Father, what did the other prisoners look like?"
" The first two were a couple of old men, one of whom
wore a miner's broad felt hat, and the other a moun¬
taineer's cap; both seemed utterly disheartened. Of the
other two, one was a young miner, Avho marched along
with head up, whistling; the other,—do you remember,
Becky, those travelers who came to this tower some ten
days ago, on the night of that terrible storm ? "
" As Satan remembers the day of his fall," replied the
woman.
" Did you notice a young man in company with that
crazy old doctor with the big periwig,—a young fellow,
I say, who wore a great green cloak, and a cap with a
black feather."
"Yes, indeed; I can see him now, saying: 'Woman,
we have plenty of gold !' "
" Well, old woman, I hope I may never wring the neck
of anj'thing worse than a grouse, if the fourth prisoner
was not that young man. His face, to be sure, was en¬
tirely hidden by his feather, his cap, his hair, and his
cloak: besides he hung his head. But it was the very
same dress, the same boots, the same manner. I'll swal¬
low the stone gallows at Skongen at a single mouthful if
it be not the same man! What do you say to that, Becky ?
Wouldn't it be a joke if after I had given him something
to sustain life he should also receive from me something
to cut it short, and should exercise my skill after having
tasted my hospitality ? "
The hangman's coarse laughter was loud and long; then
he resumed: " Come, make merry, all of you, and let us
drink. Yes, Becky, give me a glass of that beer which
scrapes a man's throat as if he were drinking files, and let
me drain it to my future advancement. Come, here's to
the health and prosperity of Nychol Orugix, executioner
royal that is to be ! I will confess, you old sinner, that I
found it hard work to go to Noes village to hang a con¬
temptible clown for stealing cabbage and chicory. Still,
when I thought it over, I felt that thirty-two escalins
were not to be sneezed at, and that my hands would not
2T0
HANS OF ICELAyn.
be degraded by turning off mere thieves and riff-raff of
that kind until after they had actually beheaded the noble
count and ex-chancellor, and the famous demon of Iceland.
I therefore resigned myself, while waiting for my certifi¬
cate as hangman to the king, to despatch the poor wretch
at Noes village. And here," he added, draAving a leather
purse from his wallet, " are the thirty-two escalins for you,
old girl."
At this moment three blasts from a horn were heard
outside.
" Woman," cried Orugix, " those are the bowmen of the
lord mayor."
With these words he hurried down-stairs.
" An instant later he reappeared, carryhig a large parch¬
ment, of which he had broken the seal.
" There," said he to his wife, " there's what the lord
mayor has sent me. Do you decipher it; for you can
read Satan's scrawl. Perhaps it is my promotion already ;
for since the court is to have a chancellor to preside over
it and a chancellor as prisoner at the bar, it is only proper
that the man who carries out the sentence should he an
executioner royal."
The woman took the parchment and after studying it
for some time, read aloud, while the children stared at her
in stupid wonder : " In the name of the Council of the
province of Throndhjem, Nychol Orugix, hangman for the
province, is hereby ordered to repair at once to Thrond¬
hjem, and to carry with him his best ax, block, and black
hangings."
"Is that all?" asked the hangman, in a dissatisfied tone.
" That is all," replied Becky.
" Hangman for the province ! " muttered Orugix.
He cast an angry glance at the official document, but at
last exclaimed : " Well, I must obey and be off. After all,
they tell me to bring my best ax and the black hangings.
Take care, Becky, that you rub off the spots of rust which
have dimmed my ax, and see that the hangings are not
stained with blood. We must not be discouraged; per¬
haps they mean to promote me in payment for this fine
execution. So much the worse for the prisoners; they
will not have the satisfaction of dying by the hand of an
executioner royal."
BANS OF ICELAND,
271
CHAPTER XLII.
Elvira. What has become of poor Sancho ? He has not appeared
in town ?
Nuno. Sancho has doubtless contrived to find shelter.
Lope de Vega : The Best Alcalde is the King.
Count d'Ahlefeld, dragging behind him an ample
robe of black satin lined with ermine, his head and shoul¬
ders concealed by a large judicial wig, his breast covered
with stars and decorations, among which were the collars
of the Royal Orders of the Elephant and the Dannebrog,
clad, in a word, in the complete costume of the lord chan¬
cellor of Denmark and Norway, paced with an anxious air
up and down the apartment of Countess d'Ahlefeld, who
was alone with him at the moment.
" Come, it is nine o'clock ; the court is about to open;
it must not be kept waiting, for sentence must be pro¬
nounced to-night, so that it may be carried out by to¬
morrow morning at latest. The mayor assures me that
the hangman will be here before dawn. Elphega, did you
order the boat to take me to Munkholm ? "
" My lord, it has been waiting for you at least half an
hour," replied the countess, rising from her seat.
" And is my litter at the door ? "
"Yes, my lord."
" Good I So you say, Elphega," added the count, clap¬
ping his hand to his head," that there is a love affair be¬
tween Ordener Guldenlew and Schumacker's daughter ? "
" A very serious one, I assure you," replied the countess,
with a smile of anger and contempt.
" Who would ever have imagined it ? And yet I tell
you that I su.spected it."
" And so did I," said the countess. " This is a trick
played upon us by that confounded Levin."
" Old scamp of a Mecklenburger!" muttered the chan¬
cellor ; " never fear, I'll recommend you to Arensdorf.
If I could only succeed in disgracing him! Ah! see here,
Elphega, I haj'e an inspiration."
"What is it?"
272
HANS OF ICELAND.
"You know that the persons whom we are to try at
Munkholm Castle are six in number,—Schumacker, whom
I hope I shall have no further cause to fear, to-morrow, at
this hour; the colossal mountaineer, our false Hans of
Iceland, who has sworn to sustain his character to the
end, in the hope that Musdoemon, from whom he has al¬
ready received large sums of money, will help him to
escape,—that Mosdoemon really has the most devilish
ideas! The other four prisoners are the three rebel chiefs,
and a certain unknown character, who stumbled, no one
knows how, into the midst of the assembly at Apsyl-
Corh, and whom Musdcemon's precautions have thrown
into our hands. Musdoemon thinks that the fellow is a
spy of Levin de Knud. And indeed, when brought here
a prisoner, his first words were to ask for the general;
and when he learned of the Mecklenburger's absence, he
seemed dumfounded. Moreover, he has refused to answer
any of Musdcemon's questions."
" My dear lord," interrupted the countess, " why have
you not questioned him yourself ? "
" Really, Elphega, how could I, in the midst of all the
business which has overwhelmed me since my arrival ? I
trusted the affair to Musdoemon, whom it interests as
much as it does me. Besides, my dear, the fellow is not
of the slightest consequence in himself; he is merely
some" poor vagabond. We can only turn him to account
by representing him to be an agent of Levin de Knud,
and as he was captured in the rebel ranks, it would go to
prove a guilty connivance between Schumacker and the
Mecklenburger, which will suffice to bring about, if not
the arraignment, at least the disgrace, of that confounded
Levin."
The countess meditated for a moment. " You are right,
my lord. But how about this fatal passion of Baron
Thorwick for Ethel Schumacker ? "
The chancellor again rubbed his head. Then, shrug¬
ging his shoulders, he said: " See here, Elphega ; neither
you nor I are young novices, and we ought to understand
men. When Schumacker has been condemned for high
treason for the second time ; when he has undergone an
infamous death on the gallows; when his daughter, re¬
duced to the lowest ranks of society, is forever publicly
HANS OF ICELAND.
273
disgraced by her father's shame,—do you suppose, Elphega,
that Ordener Guldenlew will then recall for a single in¬
stant this childish flirtation which you call passion, judg¬
ing it hy the extravagant talk of a crazy girl, or that he
will hesitate a single day between the dishonored daughter
of a wretched criminal and the illustrious daughter of a
great chancellor? We must judge others by ourselves;
where do you find that the human heart is so constituted ? "
" I trust that you may be right. But I think you will
not disapprove of my request to the mayor that Schu-
macker's daughter might be present at her father's trial,
and might he placed in the same gallery with me. I am
curious to study the creature."
" All that can throw light upon the affair is valuable,"
said the chancellor, calmly. " But tell me, does anybody
know where Ordener is at present ? "
"No one knows; he is the worthy pupil of that old
Levin, a knight-errant like him. I believe that he is
visiting Wardhus just now."
"Well, well, our Ulrica will settle him. But come, I
forget that the court is waiting for me."
The countess detained the chancellor. " One word
more, my lord. I asked you yesterday, but your mind
was full of other things, and I could not get an answer,—
where is my Frederic ? "
" Frederic! " said the count, with a melancholy expres¬
sion, and hiding his face with his hand.
"Yes, answer me; my Frederic? His regiment has
returned to Throndhjem without him. Swear to me that
Frederic was not in that horrible affair at Black Pillar
Pass. Why do you change color at his name ? I am in
mortal terror."
The chancellor's features resumed their wonted com¬
posure. " Make yourself easy, Elphega. I swear that he
was not at Black Pillar Pass. Besides, the list of officers
killed or wounded in that skirmish has been published."
"Yes," said the countess, growing calmer, "you reas¬
sure me. Only two officers were killed,—Captain Lory
and that young Baron Randmer, who played so many mad
pranks with my poor Frederic at the Copenhagen halls.
Oh, I have re%d and re-read the list, I assure you. But
tell me, my lord, did my b^oy remain at Wahlstrom ? "
i8
274
HANS OF ICELAND.
" He did," replied the count.
"Well, my friend," said the mother,with a smile which
she tried to render affectionate, " I have but one favor to
ask of you,—that is, to recall Frederic as soon as may be
from that frightful region."
The chancellor broke from her suppliant arras, saying,
" Madam, the court waits. Farewell. What you ask
does not depend on my will." And he quitted the room
abruptly.
The countess was left in a sad and pensive mood. " It
does not depend upon his will! " said she, " and he has
but to utter a word to restore my son to my arms! I
always thought that man was genuinely bad,"
CHAPTER XLIII.
Is it thus you treat a man in my position ? Is it thus you forget
the respect due to justice ?—Calderon : Louis Perez of Galicia.
The trembling Ethel, separated from her father by the
guards upon leaving the Lion of Schleswig tower, was
conducted through dim passages, hitlierto unknown to
her, to a small, dark cell, which was closed as soon as
she had entered it. In the wall opposite the door was
a large grated opening, through which came the light of
links and torches. Before this opening was a bench, upon
which sat a woman, veiled and dressed in black, who
signed to her to be seated beside her. Ethel obeyed in
silent dismay. She looked through the grated window
and saw a solemn and imposing scene.
At the farther end of a room hung with black and
dimly lighted by copper lamps suspended from the vaulted
roof, was a black platform in the shape of a horseshoe,
occupied by sev^en judges in black gowns, one of whom,
placed in the center upon a higher seat, wore on his breast
glittering diamond chains and gold medals. The judge
on his right differed from the others in the wearing of a
white girdle and an ermine mantle, showing him to be the
lord mayor of the province. To the right of the bench
was a platform covered with a dais, upon which sat an old
man, in bishop's dress; to the left, a table covered with
HANS OF ICELAND.
275
papers, behind which stood a short man with a huge wig,
and enveloped in a long black gown.
Opposite the judges was a wooden bench, surrounded
by halberdiers holding torches, whose light, reflected black
from a forest of pikes, muskets, and partisans, shed a faint
glimmer upon the tumultuous heads of a mob of specta¬
tors, crowded against the iron railing dividing them from
the court-room.
Ethel looked at this spectacle as she might have beheld
some waking dream ; yet she was far from feeling indif¬
ferent to what was about to happen. A secret voice
'.varned her to listen well, because a crisis in her life was
it hand. Her heart was a prey to contending emotions ;
she longed to know instantly what interest she had in the
scene before her, or never to know it at all. For some
days, the idea that her Ordener was forever lost to her
had inspired her with a desperate desire to be done with
existence once for all, and to read the book of her fate at
a single glance. Therefore, realizing that this was a deci¬
sive hour, she watched the somber picture before her, not
so much with aversion as with a sort of impatient melan¬
choly joy.
she saw the president rise and proclaim in the king's
name that the court was opened.
She heard the short, dark man to the left of the bench
read, in a low, rapid voice, a long discourse in which her
father's name, mixed with the words " conspiracy," " re¬
volt in the mines," and " high treason," frequently re¬
curred. Then she remembered what the dread stranger
had told her, in tlie donjon garden, of the charges against
her father ; and she shuddered as she heard the man in
the black robe conclude his speech with the word " death,"
pronounced with great emphasis.
She turned in terror to the veiled lady, fi'om whom she
shrank with unaccountable fear. «Where are we ?
What does all this mean ? " she timidly asked.
A gesture from her mysterious companion commanded
her to be silent and attentive. She again turned her eyes
to the court-room. The venerable bishop rose, and Ethel
caught these words: " In the name of omnipotent and
most merciful,God, I, Pamphilus-Luther, bishop of the
royal province and town of Throndhjem, do greet the
276
HANS OF ICELAND.
worthy court assembled here in the name of the king,
our lord, under God.
" And I say, that having observed that the prisoners
brought to this bar are men and Christians, and that they
have no counsel, I declare to the worthy judges that it is
my purpose to aid them with my poor strength in the
cruel position in which it has pleased Heaven to place
them.
" Praying that God will deign to strengthen my great
weakness, and enlighten my great blindness, I, bishop of
this royal diocese, greet this wise and worthy court."
So saying, the bishop stepped from his episcopal throne,
and took his seat upon the prisoners' bench, amid a mur¬
mur of applause from the people.
The president then rose, and said in dry tones, " Hal¬
berdiers, command silence! My lord bishop, the court
thanks your reverence, in the name of the prisoners.
Inhabitants of the province of Throndhjem, pay good
heed to the king's justice; there can be no appeal from
the sentence of the court. Bowmen, bring in the pris¬
oners."
There was an expectant and terrified hush; the heads
of the crowd swayed to and fro in the darkness like the
waves of a stormy sea, upon which the thunder is about
to burst.
Soon Ethel heard a dull sound and a strange stir below
her, in the gloomy' aisles of the court; the audience
moved aside with a thrill of impatient curiosity, there
was a noise of many feet; halberds and muskets gleamed,
and six men, chained and surrounded by guards, entered
the room bareheaded. Ethel had eyes for the first of the
six alone, a white-headed old man in a black gown. It
was her father.
She leaned, almost fainting, against the stone balus¬
trade in front of her; everything swam before her in a
confused cloud, and it seemed as if her heart were in her
throat. She said in a feeble voice, " O God ! help me!"
The veiled woman bent over her and gave her salts to
smell, which roused her from her lethargy.
"Noble lady," said she, reviving, "for mercy's sake,
speak but one Avord to convince me that I am not the
sport of spirits from hell."
UANS OF ICELAND.
277
The stranger, deaf to her entreaty, again turned her
head toward the court; and poor Ethel, who had some¬
what recovered her strength, resigned herself to do the
same in silence.
The president rose, and said in slow, solemn tones,
" Prisoners, you are brought before us that we may decide
whether or not you are guilty of high treason, conspiracy,
and armed rebellion against the authority of the king, our
sovereign lord. Examine your consciences well, for the
charge of leze-majesty rests upon your heads."
At this moment a gleam of light fell upon the face of
one of the six prisoners, a young man who held his head
down, as if to veil his features with his long hair. Ethel *
started, and a cold sweat oozed from every pore. She
thought she recognized— But no; it was a cruel illusion.
The room was but dimly lighted, and men moved about
it like shadows; the great polished ebony Christ hanging
over the president's chair was scarcely visible.
And yet that young man was wrapped in a mantle which
at this distance seemed to be green; his disordered hair
was chestnut, and the unexpected gleam which revealed
his features— But no; it was not true. It could not be!
It was some horrid delusion!
The prisoners were seated on a bench beside the bishop.
Schumacker took his place at one end ; he was separated
from the chestnut-haired young man by his four compan¬
ions in misfortune, who wore coarse clothes, and among
whom was one of gigantic stature. The bishop sat at the
other end of the bench.
Ethel saw the president turn to her father, saying in a
stern voice: " Old man, tell us your name, and who you are."
The old man raised his venerable head.
" Once," he replied, looking steadily at the president,
"I was Count Griffenfeld and Tbnsberg, Prince of Wollin,
Prince of the Holy German Empire, Knight of the Koyal
Orders of the Elephant and the Dannebrog, Knight of the
Golden Fleece in Germany and of the Garter in England,
Prime Minister, Lord Rector of all our Universities, Lord
High Chancelloi- of Denmark, and—"
The president interrupted him : " Prisoner, the court
does not ask who you were, nor what your name once
was, but who you are and what it now is."
9
278
IIANS OF ICELAND.
" Well," answered the old man, quickly, " my name is
John Schumacker now; I am sixty-nine years old, and
I am nothing but your former benefactor, Chancellor
d'Ahlefeld."
The president seemed confused.
" I recognized you. Count," added the ex-chancellor,
" and as I thought you did not know me, I took the liberty
to remind your Grace that we are old acquaintances."
" Schumacker," said the president, in a voice trembling
with concentrated fury, "do not trifle with the court."
The aged prisoner again interrupted him : "We have
changed places, noble Chancellor; I used to call you
' d'Ahlefeld,' and you addressed me as ' Count.' "
" Prisoner," replied the president," you only injure your
cause by recalling the infamous decree which already
brands your name."
"If that sentence entailed infamy on any one. Count
d'Ahlefeld, it was not on me."
The old man half rose as he spoke these words with
great emphasis.
The president waved his hand.
" Sit down. Do not insult, in the presence of the court,
the judges who condemned you, and the king who sur¬
rendered you to those judges. Recollect that his Majesty
deigned to grant you your life, and confine yourself to
defending it."
Schumacker's only answer was a shrug of the shoulders.
" Have you," asked the president, " anything to say in
regard to the charges preferred against you ? "
Seeing that Schumacker was silent, the president re¬
peated his question.
" Are you speaking to me ? " said the ex-chancellor. " I
supposed, noble Count d'Ahlefeld, that you were speaking
to yourself. Of what crime do you accuse me ? Did I
ever give a Judas kiss to a friend ? Have I imprisoned,
condemned, and dishonored a benefactor,—robbed him to
whom I owed everything? In truth, my lord chancellor,
I know not why I am brought here. Doubtless it is to
judge of your skill in lopping off innocent heads. Indeed,
I shall not be sorry to see whether you find it as easy to
ruin me as to ruin the kingdom, and whether a single
comma will be a sufiicieirt pretext for my death, as one
«
HANS OF ICELAND.
279
letter of the alphabet was enough for you to bring on a
war with Sweden." *
He had scarcely uttered this bitter jest, when the man
seated at the table to the left of the bench arose.
" My lord president," said he, bowing low, " my lord
judges, I move that John Schumacher be forbidden to
speak, if he continue to insult his Grace, the president of
this worshipful court."
The calm voice of the bishop answered : " Mr. Private
Secretary, no prisoner can be deprived of the right to
speak."
" True, Reverend Bishop," hastily exclaimed the presi¬
dent. "We propose to allow the defense the utmost
liberty. I would merely advise the prisoner to moderate
his expressions if he understands his own interest."
Schumacker shook his head, and said coldly : " It seems
that Count d'Ahlefeld is more sure of his game than he
was in 1677."
" Silence! " said the president; and instantly addressing
the prisoner next to the old man, he asked his name.
A mountaineer of colossal stature, whose forehead was
swathed in bandages, rose, saying, " I am Hans, from Klip-
stadur, in Iceland."
A shudder of horror ran through the crowd, and Schu¬
macker, lifting his head, which had sunk upon his breast,
cast a sudden glance at his dreadful neighbor, from whom
all his other fellow-prisoners shrank.
" Hans of Iceland," asked the president, when the con¬
fusion ceased, " what have you to say for yourself ? "
Ethel was as much startled as any of the spectators by
the appearance of the famous brigand, who had so long
played a prominent part in all her visions of alarm. She
fixed her eyes with timid dread upon the monstrous giant,
with whom her Ordener had possibly fought, whose victim
* There were grave differences between Denmark and Sweden,
because Count d'Ahlefeld insisted, during the negotiations of a
treaty between the two States, that the Danish king should be
addressed as rex Gothorum, which apparently attributed to him
supremacy over Gothland, a Swedish pi-ovince; while the Swedes
persisted in styling him rex Goiorum, a vague title, equivalent to
the ancient name of Danish sovereigns,—King of the Goths. It
is probably to this " h"—the cause-not of a war, but of long and
threatening negotiations—that Schumacker alluded,
280
HANS OF ICELAND.
he perhaps was. This idea again took possession of her
soul in all its painful shapes. Thus, wholly absorbed by
countless heart-rending emotions, she hardly heeded the
coarse, blundering answer of this Hans of Iceland, whom
she regarded almost as her Ordener's murderer. She only
understood that the brigand declared himself to be the
leader of the rebel forces.
" Was it of your own free will," asked the president, « or
by the suggestion of others, that you took command of the
insurgents ? "
The brigand answered: "It was not of my own free
will."
" Who persuaded you to commit such a crime ? "
" A man named Racket."
" Who was this Racket ? "
" An agent of Schumacker, whom he also called Count
Griffenfeld."
The president turned to Schumacker: " Schumacker,
do you know this Racket ? "
"You have forestalled me. Count d'Ahlefeld," rejoined
the old man; " I was about to ask you the same question."
" John Schumacker," said the president," your hatred is
ill advised. The court will put the proper value upon
your system of defense."
The bishop then said, turning to the short man, who
seemed to fill the office of recorder and prosecutor: " Mr.
Private Secretary, is this Racket one of your clients ? "
" No, your reverence," replied the secretary.
"Does any one know what has become of him ? "
" Re was not captured; he has disappeared."
It seemed as if the private secretary tried to steady his
voice as he said this.
" I rather think that he has vanished altogether," said
Schumacker.
The bishop continued: " Mr. Secretary, is any one in pur¬
suit of this Racket ? Ras any one a description of him ? "
Before the private secretary could answer, one of the
prisoners rose. Re was a young miner, with a stern, proud
face.
"Re is easily described," said he, in a firm voice.
" This contemptible Racket, Schumacker's agent, is a man
of low stature, with an open countenance, like the mouth
TIANS OF ICELAFD.
281
of hell. Stay, Mr. Bishop ; his voice is very like that of
the gentleman writing at the table over there, whom your
reverence calls, I believe, ' private secretary.' And truly,
if the room were not so dark, and the private secretary
had less hair to hide his face, I could almost swear that he
looked very much like the traitor Hacket."
" Our brother speaks truly," cried the prisoners on either
side of the young miner.
" Indeed!" muttered Schumacher, with a look of triumph.
The secretary involuntarily started, whether from fear,
or from the indignation which he felt at being compared
to Hacket. The president, who himself seemed disturbed,
hurriedly exclaimed : " Prisoners, remember that you are
only to speak in answer to a question from the court;
and do not insult the officers of the law by unworthy
comparisons."
" But, Mr. President," said the bishop, " this is a mere
matter of description. If the guilty Hacket has points of
resemblance to your secretary, it may be useful to—"
The president cut him short.
" Hans of Iceland, you, who have had such frequent
intercourse with Hacket, tell us, to satisfy the worthy
bishop, whether the fellow really resembles our honorable
private secretary."
"Not at all, sir," unhesitatingly answered the giant.
"You see, my lord bishop," added the president.
The bishop acknowledged his satisfaction by a bow, and
the president, addressing another prisoner, pronounced the
usual formula: " What is your name ? "
" Wilfred Kennybol, from the Kiolen Mountains."
" Were you among the insurgents? "
" Yes, sir; the truth at all costs. I was captured in
the cursed defile of Black Pillar. I was the chief of the
mountaineers."
" Who urged you to the crime of rebellion ? "
" Our brothers the miners complained of the royal
protectorate ; and that was very natural, was it not, your
worship ? If you had nothing but a mud hut and a couple
of paltry fox-skins, you would not like to have them taken
from you. The government would not listen to their
petitions. Thdti, sir, they made up their minds to rebel,
and begged us to help them. Such a slight favor could
283
HANS OF ICELAND.
not be refused by brothers who say the same prayers and
worship the same saints. That's the whole story."
" Did nobody," said the president, " excite, encourage,
and direct your insurrection ? "
" There was a Mr. Hacket, who was forever talking to
us about rescuing a count who was imprisoned at Munk-
holm, whose messenger he said he was. We promised to
do as he asked, because it was nothing to us to set one
more captive free."
"Was not this count's name Schumacker or Grififen-
feld, fellow ? "
" Exactly so, your worship."
" Did you never see him ? "
" No, sir; but if he be tbat old man who told you that
he had so many n^mes just now, I must confess—"
" What ? " interrupted the president.
" That he has a very beautiful white beard, sir; almost
as handsome a one as my sister Maase's husband's father,
of the village of Surb; and he lived to be one hundred and
twenty years old."
The darkness of the room prevented any one from seeing
whether the president looked disappointed at the moun¬
taineer's simple answer. He ordered the archers to pro¬
duce certain scarlet flags.
" Wilfred Kennybol," he asked, " do you recognize these
flags ? "
" Yes, your Grace ; they were given to us by Hacket in
Count Schumacker's name. The count also distributed
arms to the miners ; for we did not need them, we moun¬
taineers, who live by our gun and game-bag. And I my¬
self, sir, such as you see me, trussed as I am like a misei*-
able fowl to be I'oasted, have more than once, in one of
our deep valleys, brought down an old eagle flying so
high that it looked like a lark or a thrush."
"You hear, judges," remarked the private secretary;
" the prisoner Schumacker distributed arms and banners
to the rebels, through Hacket."
" Kennybol," asked the president, " have you anything
more to say ? "
"Nothing, your Grace, except that I do not deserve
death. I only lent a hand in l)rotherly love to the minens,
and I'll venture to say before all your worships that my
HANS OF ICELAND.
2S3
bullet, old hunter as I am, never touched one of the king's
deer."
The president, without answering this plea, cross-exam¬
ined Kennybol's two companions ; they were the leaders
of the miners. The older of the two, who stated that his
name was Jonas, repeated Kennybol's testimony in slightly
different words. The other,—the same young man who
had noticed such a strong resemblance between the private
secretary and the treacherous ITacket,—called himself
Norbith, and proudly avowed his share in the rebellion,
but refused to reveal anything regarding Ilacket and
Schumacker, saying that he had sworn secrecy, and had
forgotten everything but that oath. In vain the president
tried threats and entreaties ; the obstinate youth was not
to be moved. Moreover, he insisted that he had not re¬
belled on Schumacher's account, but simply because his
old mother was cold and hungry. He did not deny that
he might deserve to die; but he declared that it would
be unjust to kill him, because in killing him they would
also kill his poor mother, who had done nothing to merit
punishment.
When Norbith ceased speaking, the private secretary
briefly summed up the heavy charges against the prison-
ei's, and more especially against Schumacker. He read
some of the seditious mottoes on the flags, and showed how
the general agreement of the answers of the ex-chancellor's
accomplices, and even the silence of Norbith bound by a
fanatical oath, tended to inculpate him. " There now re¬
mains," he said in close, " but a single prisoner to be
examined, and we have strong reasons for thinking him
the secret agent of the authority who has ill protected the
peace of the province of Throndhjem. This authority
has favored, if not by his guilty connivance, at least by
his fatal negligence, the outbreak of the revolt which
must destroy all these unhappy men, and restore Schu¬
macker to the scaffold from which the king's clemency so
generously preserved him."
Ethel, whose fears for Ordener were now converted into
cruel apprehensions for her father, shuddered at these
ominous words, and wept floods of tears when her father
rose and said quietly: " Chancellor d'Ahlefeld, I admire
your skill. Have you summoned the hangman 'i"
28-t
riANS OF ICELAND.
The unfortunate girl thought her cup of bitterness was
full: she was mistaken.
The sixth prisoner now stood up. With a superb ges¬
ture he swept back the hair which covered his face, and
replied to the president's questions in clear, firm voice :
«My name is Ordener Guldenlew, Baron Thorwick,
Knight of the Dannebrog."
An exclamation of surprise escaped the secretary : " The
viceroy's son !"
" The viceroy's son! " repeated every voice, as if the
words were taken up by countless echoes.
The president shrank back in his seat; the judges,
hitherto motionless upon the bench, bfent toward one an¬
other in confusion, like trees beaten by opposing winds.
The commotion was even greater in the audience. The
spectators climbed upon stone cornices and iron rails;
the entire assembly spoke through a single mouth; and
the guards, forgetting to insist upon silence, added their
ejaculations to the general uproar.
Only those accustomed to sudden emotions can imagine
Ethel's feelings. Who could describe that unwonted mix¬
ture of agonizing joy and delicious grief; that anxious
expectation, which was alike fear and hope, and yet not
quite either ? He stood before her, but he could not see
her. There was her beloved Ordener,—her Ordener,—
whom she had believed dead, whom she knew was lost
to her; her friend who had deceived her, and whom she
adored with renewed adoration. He was there ; yes, he
was there. She was not the victim of a vain dream.
Oh, it was really he,—that Ordener, alas ! whom she had
seen in dreams more often than in reality. But did he
appear within these gloomy precincts as an angel of de¬
liverance, or as a spirit of evil ? Was she to hope in him,
or to tremble for him ? A thousand conjectures crowded
upon her at once, and oppressed her mind like a flame
choked by too much fuel; all the ideas and sensations
which we have suggested flashed through her brain as
the son of the Norwegian viceroy pronounced his name.
She was the first to recognize him, and before any one
else had recognized him, she had fainted.
She soon recovered her senses for the second time,
thanks to the attentions of her mysterious neighbor.
HANf! OF ICELAND.
285
With pale cheeks, she again opened her eyes, in which
the tears had been suddenly dried. She cast an eager
glance at the young man still standing unmoved amid
the general confusion; and after all agitation had ceased
in the court and among the people, Ordener Guldenlew's
name still rang in her ears. With painful alarm she
observed that he wore his arm in a sling, and that his
wrists were chained; she noticed that his mantle was
torn in several places, and that his faithful sword no
longer hung at his side. Nothing escaped her solicitude,
for the eye of a lover is like that of a mother. Her whole
soul flew to the rescue of him whom she could not shield
with her body; and, be it said to the glory and the shame
of love, in that room, which contained her father and her
father's persecutors, Ethel saw but one man.
Silence was gradually restored. The president resumed
his examination of the viceroy's son. « My lord Baron,"
said he, in a tremulous voice.
" I am not ' my lord Baron' hex-e," firmly answered
Ordener. " I am Ordener Guldenlew, just as he who was
once Count Griffenfeld is John Schumacker here."
The president hesitated for a moment, then went on :
"Well, Ordener Guldenlew, it is doubtless by some un¬
lucky accident that you are brought before us. The rebels
must have captured you while you were traveling, and
forced you to join them, and it is probably in this way
that you were found in their ranks."
The secretary rose: " Noble judges, the mere name of
the viceroy's son is a sufficient plea for him. Baron
Ordener Guldenlew cannot by any possibility be a rebel.
Our illustrious president has given a clear explanation
of his unfortunate arrest among the rebels. The noble
prisoner's only eri-or is in not sooner revealing his name.
We request that he may be set free at once, abandon¬
ing all charges against him, and only regretting that he
should have been seated upon a bench degraded by the
criminal Schumacker and his accomplices."
" What would you do ? " cried Ordener.
" The private secretary," said the president, " withdraws
the charges against you."
" He is wrong," replied Ordener, in a loud, clear voice;
" I alone of all here should be accused, judged, and con-
2.90
HAys OF ICELAND.
demned." lie paused a moment, and added in a les-s
resolute tone, " For I alone am guilty."
" You alone guilty! " exclaimed the president,
" You alone guilty ! " repeated the secretary.
A fresh burst of astonishment was heard in the audi¬
ence. The wretched Ethel shuddered ; she did not reflect
that this declaration from her lover would save her father.
She thought only of her Ordener's death.
" Silence in the court! " said the pi-esident, possibly
taking advantage of this brief tumult to collect his
thoughts and recover his self-possession. " Ordener Gul-
denlew," he resumed, " explain yourself."
The young man mused an instant, then sighed heavily,
and uttered these words in a tone of calm submission:
"Yes, I know that an infamous death awaits me; I know
that my life might have been bright and fair. But God
reads my heart; God alone ! I am about to accomplish
the most urgent duty of my life. I am about to sacriflce
to it my blood, perhaps my honor; but I feel that I shall
die without regret or remorse. Do not be surprised at my
words, judges; there are mysteries in the soul and in the
destiny of man which men cannot penetrate, and which
are judged in heaven alone. Hear me, therefore, and act
toward me as your conscience may dictate when you have
pardoned these unfortunate men, and more especially the
much injured Schumacher, who has already, in his long
captivity, expiated many more crimes than any one man
could ever commit. Yes, I am guilty, noble judges, and
I alone. Schumacker is innocent; these other unhappy
men were merely led astray. I am the author of the
insurrection among the miners."
" You !" exclaimed the president and his private secre¬
tary, with a singular look upon their faces.
" I! and do not interrupt me again, gentlemen. I am in
haste to finish; for by accusing myself I exonerate these
poor prisoners. I excited the miners in Schumacher's
name; I distributed those banners to the rebels; I sent
them money and arms in the name of the prisoner of
Munkholm. Hacket was my agent."
At the name of Hacket, the private secretary made a
gesture of stupefied amazement.
Ordener continued: " I will not trespass on your time.
nANSI OF ICELAND.
2S7
gentlemen. I was captured among the miners, whom I
persuaded to revolt. I alone did everything. Now judge
me. If I have proved my guilt, I have also proved the
innocence of Schumacker and the poor wretches whom
you deem his accomplices."
The young man spoke these words, his eyes raised to
heaven. Ethel, almost lifeless, scarcely breathed; but it
seemed to her that Ordener, although he exculpated her
father, pronounced his name most bitterly. The young ^
man's language terrified and amazed her, although she
could not comprehend it. Of all she heard, she grasped
nothing but misery.
A sentiment of similar nature seemed to engross the
president. He was scarcely able to believe his ears.
Nevertheless, he asked the viceroy's son: «If you are
indeed the sole author of this revolt, what was your
object in instigating it ? "
«I cannot tell you."
Ethel shivered when .she heard the president reply in a
somewhat angry tone: " Had you not an intrigue with
Schumacher's daughter ? "
But Ordener, though in chains, advanced toward the
bench, and exclaimed, in accents of indignation : " Chan¬
cellor d'Ahlefeld, content yourself with my life, which I
place in your hands; respect a noble and innocent girl.
Do not a second time attempt to dishonor her."
Ethel, who felt the blood rise to her face, did not com¬
prehend the meaning of the words," a second time," upon
which her defender laid such emphasis ; but by the rage
expressed in the president's features, it seemed that he
understood them.
" Ordener Guldenlew, do not forget the respect due to
the king's justice and the officers of the law. I repri¬
mand you in the name of the court. I now summon you
anew to declare your purpose in committing the crime of
which you accuse yourself."
" I repeat that I cannot tell you."
"Was it not to deliver Schumacker?" inquired the
secretary.
Ordener was silent.
" Do not persist in silence, prisoner," said the president;
" it is proved tRat you have been in communication with
HANS OF ICELAN^D.
.Se]iura<acker, and your confession of guilt rather impli¬
cates than exonerates the prisoner of Munkholm. You
have paid frequent visits to Munkholm, and your motive
was surely more than mere curiosity. Let this diamond
buckle bear witness."
The president took from the table a diamond buckle.
" Do you recognize it as your property ? "
"Yes. By what chance ? "
"Well! One of the rebels gave it, before he died, to
our private secretary, averring that he received it from
you in payment for rowing you across from Throndhjem
to Munkholm fortress. Now I ask you, judges, if such a
price paid to a common sailor does not prove the impor¬
tance laid by the prisoner, Ordener Guldenlew, upon his
reaching that prison, which is the one where Schumacker
was confined ? "
" Ah ! " exclaimed the prisoner Kennybol, " what your
Grace says is true; I recognize the buckle. It is the same
story which our poor brother Guidon Stayper told me."
" Silence," said the president; " let Ordener Guldenlew
answer."
" I will not deny," replied Ordener, " that I desired to
see Schumacker. But this buckle has no significance.
It is forbidden to enter the fort wearing diamonds. The
sailor who rowed me across complained of his poverty
during our passage. I fiung him this buckle, which I
was not allowed to wear."
" Pardon me, your Grace," interrupted the private secre¬
tary, " the rule does not include the viceroy's son. You
could therefore—"
" I did not wish to give my name."
" Why not ? " asked the president.
" I cannot tell you."
"Your relations with Schumacker and his daughter
prove that the object of your conspiracy was to set them
free."
Schumacker, who had hitherto shown no sign of atten¬
tion save an occasional scornful shrug of the shoulders,
rose: "To set me free I The object of this infernal plot
was to compromise and ruin me, as it still is. Do you
think that Ordener Guldenlew would confess his share in
this crime unless he had been captured among the rebels ?
HAXS OF ICELAND.
289
Oh, I see that he mherits his father's hatred to iiie!
And as for the relations which you suppose exist between
him and myself and my daughter, let him know, that
accursed Guldenlew, that my daughter also inherits my
loathing for him,—for the whole race of Gulden) ews and
d'Ahlefelds! "
Ordener sighed deeply, while Ethel in her heart dis¬
claimed her father's assertion; and he fell back upon his
bench, quivering with wrath.
" The court will decide for itself," said the president.
Ordener, Avho, at Schumacker's words, had silently cast
down his eyes, seemed to awake: " Oh, hear me, noble
judges! You are about to examine your consciences;
do not forget that Ordener Guldenlew is alone guilty;
Schumacker is mnocent. These other unfortunate men
were deceived by my agent, Hacket. I did everything
else."
Kennybol interrupted him : « His worship says truly,
judges, for it was he who undertook to bring Hans of
Iceland to us; I only hope that name may not bring me
ill luck. ■ I know that it was this young man who ven¬
tured to seek him out inWalderhogcave, to persuade him
to be our leader. He confided the secret of his undertak¬
ing to me in Surb village, at the house of my brother
Braal. And for the rest, too, the young gentleman says
truly; we were deceived by that confounded Hacket,
whence it follows that we do not deserve death."
"Mr. Secretary," said the president, "the hearing is
ended. What are your conclusions ? "
The secretary rose, bowed several times to the court,
passed his finger under the folds of his lace band, without
taking his eyes from the president's face. At last he pro¬
nounced the following words in a dull, measured voice :
" Mr. President, most worthy judges ! It is a true bill.
Ordener Guldeirlew, who has forever tarnished the glory
of an illustrious name, has only succeeded in establishing
his own guilt without proving the innocence of ex-chan¬
cellor Schumacker and his accomplices, Hans of Iceland,
Wilfred Kennybol, Jonas, and Norbith. I require the
court to declare the six prisoners guilty of the crime of
high treason in the first degree."
A vague murfhur rose^rom the crowd. The president
19
200
ITAyrfl OF ICELAND.
was about to dismiss the court, when the bishop asked for
a brief hearing.
'• Learned judges, it is proper that the prisoners' de¬
fense should be heard last. I could wish that they had a
better advocate, for I am old and feeble, and have no other
strength than that which proceeds from God. I am con¬
founded at the secretary's severe sentence. There is no
proof of my client Schumacher's crime. There is no evi¬
dence that he has had any direct share in the insurrec¬
tion ; and since my other client, Ordener Guldenlew,
confesses that he made unlawful use of Schumacher's
name, and moreover that he is the sole author of this
damnable sedition, all evidence against Schumacher dis¬
appears ; you should therefoi'e acquit him. I recommend
to your Christian indulgence the other prisoners, who
were only led astray like the Good Shepherd's sheep;
and even young Ordener Guldenlew, who has at least the
merit, very great in the sight of God, of confessing his
crime. Reflect, judges, that he is still at the age when a
man may err, and even fall; but God does not refuse to
support or to raise him up. Ordener Guldenlew bears
scarce a fourth the burden of years which weigh do^vn my
head. Place in the balance of your judgment his youth
and inexperience, and do not so soon deprive him of the
life which the Lord has but lately given him."
The old man ceased, and took his place beside Ordener,
who smiled ; while at the invitation of the president, the
judges rose from the bench, and silently crossed the
threshold of the dread scene of their deliberations.
While a handful of men were deciding the fate of six
fellow-beings within that terrible sanctuary, the prisoners
remained motionless upon their seat between two files of
halberdiers. Schumacher, his head on his breast, seemed
absorbed in meditation. The giant stared to the right and
left with stupid assurance; Jonas and Kennybol, -with
clasped hands, prayed in low tones, while their comrade,
Norbith, stamped his foot or shook his chains with a con¬
vulsive start. Between him and the venerable bishop,
who was reading the penitential psalms, sat Ordener, with
folded arms and eyes lifted to heaven.
Behind them was the noise of the crowd, which swelled
high when the judges left the room. The famous prisoner
HANS OF ICELAND.
291
of Munkholm, the much-dreaded demon of Iceland, and
above all the viceroy's son, were the objects of every
thought, every speech, and every glance. The uproar,
mingled with groans, laughter, and confused cries, rose
and fell like a flame flickering in the wind.
Thus passed several hours of anxious expectation, so
long that every one was astonished that they could be con¬
tained in a single night. From time to time a glance was
cast toward the door of the anteroom; but there was
nothing to be seen, save the two soldiers pacing to and
fro with their glittering partisans before the fatal entrance,
like two silent ghosts.
At last the lamps and torches began to burn dim, and
the flrst pale rays of dawn were piercing the narrow
windows of the room when the awful door opened.
Profound silence instantly, and as if by magic, took the
place of all the confusion; and the only sounds heard
were the hurried breathing and the A'ague slight stir of
the multitude in suspense.
The judges, proceeding slowly from the anteroom, re¬
sumed their places on the bench, the president at their
head.
The private secretary, who had seemed absorbed in
thought during their absence, bowed and said : " Mr. Presi¬
dent, what sentence does the court, from whose decision
there is no appeal, pronounce in the king's name? We
are ready to hear it with religious respect."
The judge, seated at the president's right hand, rose,
holding a roll of parchment: " His Grace, our illustrious
president, exhausted by the length of this session, has
deigned to commission me, lord mayor of the province of
Throndhjem, and the natural president of this worshipful
court, to read in his stead the sentence pronounced in the
name of the king. I am about to fulfil this honorable
but painful duty, requesting the audience to hear the
king's impeccable justice in silence."
The lord mayor's voice then assumed a grave and sol-
enin intonation, and every heart beat faster.
" In the name of our revered master and lawful sover¬
eign, King Christian, we, the judges of the Supreme
Court of the province of Throndhjem, .summoned to de¬
cide in the cases of John Schumacher, prisoner of the
292
HANS OF ICELAND.
♦
State; Wilfred Kennybol, native of the Kiolen Moun¬
tains ; Jonas, royal miner; Norbith, royal miner; Hans of
Klipstadur, in Iceland; and Ordener Guldenlevv, Baron
Thorwick, Knight of the Dannebrog, all accused of high
treason and leze-majesty in the first degree (Hans of Ice¬
land being moreover charged Avith the crimes of murder,
arson, and robbery), do find:—
«I. That John Schumacher is not guilty;
"II. That Wilfred Kennybol, Jonas, and Norbith are
guilty, but are recommended to mercy, because they vrere
led astray;
" III. That Hans of Iceland is guilty of all the crimes
laid to his charge;
" IV. That Ordener Guldenlew is guilty of high treason
and leze-majesty in the first degree."
The judge paused an instant as if to take breath. Or¬
dener fixed upon him a look of celestial joy.
" John Schuniacker," resumed the judge, " the court
acquits you and remands you to prison;
« Kennybol, Jonas, and Norbith, the court commutes
the penalty which you have incurred, to imprisonment for
life, and a fine of one thousand crowns each;
"Hans of Klipstadur, murderer and incendiary, you
will be taken this night to Munkholm parade-ground,
and hanged by the neck until you are dead, dead,
dead!
" Ordener Guldenlew, traitor, after having been stripped
of your titles in presence of this court, you will be con¬
ducted this very night to the same place, with a lighted
torch in your hand, and there your head shall be hewn off,
your body burned, your ashes strewn to the winds, and
your head exposed upon a stake. -Let all withdraw.
Such is the sentence rendered by the king's justice."
The lord mayor had scarcely ended these fatal words,
when a shriek rang through the room. This shriek horri¬
fied the spectators even more than did the fearful terms
of the death sentence ; this shriek for a brief moment
turned the calm and radiant face of the condemned
Ordener pale.
HANS OF ICELAND.
CHAPTER XLIV.
Misfortune made them equals.—Charles Nodier.
All was over now; Ordener's work was done. He
had saved the father of the woman he loved; he had
saved her too by preserving her father to protect her.
The young man's noble plot to save Schumacker's life
had succeeded ; nothing else mattered now; it only re¬
mained for him to die.
Let those who deem him guilty or foolish judge the
generous Ordener now, as he judges himself in his own
soul with holy rapture. For it had been his one thought,
when he entered the rebel ranks, that if he could not pre¬
vent Schumacker from carrying out his guilty purpose,
he might at least help him to escape punishment by
drawing it upon his own head.
" Alas! " he thought, " Schumacker is undoubtedly
guilty; but embittered as he is by misfortune and im¬
prisonment, his crime is excusable. He sighs to be set
free ; he struggles to acquire his liberty, even by rebellion.
Besides, what would become of my Ethel if her father
were taken from her ; if she should lose him by the gal¬
lows, if fresh disgrace should blast his name, what would
become of her, helpless and unprotected, alone in her cell
or roaming through a world of foes ? " This thought de¬
termined him to make the sacrifice, and he joyfully pre¬
pared for it. It is a lover's greatest happiness to lay
down his life, I do not say for the life, but for a smile or a
tear, of the loved object.
He was accordingly captured with the rebels, was
dragged before the judges assembled to condemn Schu¬
macker, his generous falsehood was uttered, he was sen¬
tenced, he must die a cruel death, suffer shameful tor¬
ments, leave behind him a stained name ; but what cared
the noble youth ? He had saved his Ethel's father.
He sat chained in a damp dungeon, where light and air
never entered save through dark holes ; beside him was
a supply of food fo» the remnant of his existence,—a loaf
of black bread and a jug of water j an iron collar weighed
294
HANS OF ICELAND.
down his neck; iron fetters were about his hands and
feet. Every hour that passed robbed him of a greater
portion of his life than a year would bear away from
other mortals. He was lost in a delicious dream.
" Perhaps my memory will not die with me, at least in
one human heart. Perhaps she will deign to shed a tear
in return for the blood I so freely shed for her ; perhaps
she will sometimes heave a sigh for him who sacrificed his
life for her; perhaps in her virgin thoughts the dim image
of her friend may sometimes appear. And who knows
what lies behind the veil of death ? Who knows if our
souls, freed from their material prison, may not sometimes
reCurn to watch over the souls of those they love, and
hold mysterious communion with those sweet companions
still prisoned in the flesh, and in secret bring them angelic
comfort and heavenly bliss ?"
And yet bitter reflections would sometimes mingle with
these consoling meditations. The hatred which Schu¬
macher had expressed for him at the very moment of his
self-sacrifice oppressed him. The agonized shriek which
he had heard at the same instant with his death sentence
had moved him deeply ; for he alone, of all the assembly,
recognized that voice and understood that misery. And
should he never again see .his Ethel? Must his last
moments be passed within the self-same walls that con¬
tained her, and he be still unable to touch her soft hand
once more, once more to hear the gentle voice of her for
whom he was about to die ?
He had yielded thus to those vague, sad musings which
are to the mind what sleep is to the body, when the hoarse
creak of rusty bolts struck harshly on his ear, already at¬
tuned to the music of the sphere to which he was so- soon
to take his flight. The heavy iron door grated upon its
hinges. The young prisoner rose calmly, almost gladly,
for he thought that the executioner had come for him,
and he had already cast aside his life like the cloak
beneath his feet.
He was mistaken. A slender white flgure stood upon
the threshold, like a radiant vision. Ordener doubted
his own eyes, and wondered if he were not already in
heaven. It was she; it was his Ethel!
The girl fell into his fettered embrace j she covered bis
' HANS OF ICELAND.
295
hands with tears, and dried them mth her long black
hair. Kissing his chains, she bruised her pure lips upon
those infamous irons; she did not speak, but her whole
heart seemed ready to burst forth in the first word which
might break through her sobs.
He felt the most celestial joy which he had known
since his birth. He gently pressed his Ethel to his
breast, and the combined powers of earth and hell could
not at that moment have loosed the arms which encircled
her. The knowledge of his approaching death lent a
^ certain solemnity to his rapture; and he held his Ethel
as close as if he had already taken possession of her for
all eternity.
He did not ask this angel how she had gc'iined access to
him. She was there : could b? waste a thought on any¬
thing else ? Nor was he surprised. He never asked how
this proscribed, feeble, lonely girl, in spite of triple doors
of iron and triple ranks of soldiers, had contrived to open
her own prison and that of her lover; it seemed to him
quite simple; he had a perfect appreciation of the power
of love.
Why speak with the voice when the soul can speak as
readily ? Why not allow the body to listen silently to
the mysterious language of the spirit ? Both -were silent,
because there are certain emotions which can find expres¬
sion in silence only.
At last the young girl lifted her head from her lover's
throbbing heart. " Ordener," said she, " I am here to
save you :" and she uttered these words of hope with a
pang.
Ordener smiled, and shook his head.
" To save me, Ethel! You deceive yourself; escape is
impossible."
" Alas ! I am but too well aware of that. This castle
is crowded with soldiers, and every door is guarded by
archers and jailers who never sleep." She added with an
effort: " But I bring you another means of safety."
" No, no; your hope is vain. Do not delude yourself
with idle fancies, Ethel; a few hours hence the ax will
cruelly dispel them."
" Oh, do not aay so, Ordener ! You shall not die. Oh,
spare me that dreadful thought! Or rather, no j let me
296
HANS OF ICELAND.
behold it in all its horror, to give me strength to save you
and sacrifice myself."
There was a strange expression in the young girl's
voice.
Ordener gazed at her tenderly. " Sacrifice yourself!
What do you mean ? "
She hid her face in her hands, and sobbed almost
inarticulately, " Oh, God ! "
The struggle was brief; she overcame her emotion; her
eyes sparkled, her lips wore a smile. She was as beauti¬
ful as an angel ascending from hell to heaven.
" Listen, my own Ordener : your scaffold shall never be
reared. If you will but promise to marry Ulrica d'Ahle-
feld, you may live."''
« Ulrica d'Ahleield! That name from your lips, my
Ethel!"
" Do not interrupt me," she continued, with the calm
of a martyr undergoing the last pang; " I am sent here by
Countess d'Ahlefeld. She promises to gain your pardon
from the king, if in return you will agree to bestow your
hand upon her daughter. I am here to obtain your oath
to marry Ulrica and live for her. She chose me as her
messenger because she thought that my voice might have
some infiuence over you."
"Ethel," said the condemned man, in icy tones, "fare¬
well ! When you leave this cell, bid the hangman hasten
his coming."
She rose, stood before him one moment, pale and trem¬
bling, then her knees gave way beneath her, and she sank
to the stone fioor with clasped hands.
" What have I done to him ? " she muttered faintly.
Ordener silently fixed his eyes upon the fiags.
" My lord," she said, dragging herself to him on her
knees, " you do not answer me. Will you not speak to
me once more ? Then there is nothing left for me but to
die."
A tear stood in the young man's eye.
" Ethel, you no longer love me."
" Oh, God!" cried the poor girl, clasping his knees.
"No longer love you ! You say that I no longer love you,
Ordener! Did you really say those words ? "
" You no longer love me, for you despise me."
HANS OF ICELAND.
297
He repented these cruel words as soon as he had uttered
them; for Ethel's tone was heart-rending, as she threw
her adored arms around his neck, and exclaimed in a
voice broken by tears : " Forgive me, my beloved Ordener;
forgive me as I forgive you. I despise you 1 Great
heavens ! Are you not my pride, my idol, my all! Tell
me, was there aught in my words but deep love and ardent
adoration ? Alas! your stern language wounds me sorely,
when I came here to save you, my idolized Ordener, by
sacrificing my whole life for yours."
" Well," replied the young man, softened by her tears,
and kissing them away, " was it not a want of esteem to
suppose that I would buy my life by forsaking you, by
basely renouncing my oaths, by sacrificing my love ? " He
added, fixing his eye on Ethel: " My love, for which I am
about to shed my blood 1"
Ethel uttered a deep groan as she answered: " Hear me,
Ordener, before you judge me so rashly. Perhaps I have
more strength than usually falls to the lot of a weak wo¬
man. From our lofty prison window I saw them build
your scaffold on the parade. Ordener, you do not know
what fearful agony it is to see the slow preparation for the
death of one whose life is an indissoluble part of your own!
Countess d'Ahlefeld, at whose side I sat when I heard the
judge pronounce your death sentence, came to the cell to
which I had returned with my father. She asked me if
I would save you ; she proposed this hateful means. Or¬
dener, my poor happiness must perish; I must give you
up, renounce you forever; yield to another my Ordener,
poor lonely Ethel's only joy, or deliver you to the execu¬
tioner. They bid me choose between my own misery and
your death. I cannot hesitate."
He kissed this angel's hand with respectful worship.
" Neither do I hesitate, Ethel. You would not offer me
life with Ulrica d'Ahlefeld's hand if you knew why I
die."
« What ? What secret mystery—"
« Let me keep this one secret from you, my beloved
Ethel. I must die without letting you know whether you
owe me gratitude or hatred for my death."
" You mu.st die! Must you then die ? Oh, God! it is
but too true, and the scaffold stands ready even now; and
298
UANS OF ICELAND.
no human power can save my Ordener, whom they will
slay! Tell me,—cast one look upon your slave, your wife,
and tell me, promise me, beloved Ordener, that you will
listen to me without anger. Are you very sure—answer
me as you would answer to God—that you could not be
happy with that woman, that Ulrica d'Ahlefeld ? Are you
very sure, Ordener ? Perhaps she is, she surely is, hand¬
some, amiable, virtuous. She is far superior to her for
whom you perish. Do not turn away your head, dear
friend, dear Ordener. You are so noble and so young to
mount the scaffold. Think ! you might live with her in
some gay city where you would lose all memory of this
fatal dungeon; your days would flow by peacefully, with¬
out a thought of me. I consent,—you may drive me from
your heart, erase my image from your thoughts, Ordener.
Only live ! Leave me here alone ; let me be the one to
die. And believe me, when I know that you are in the
arms of another, you need not fear for me; I shall not
suffer long."
She paused; her voice was drowned in tears. Still her
grief-stricken countenance was radiant with her longing
to win the ill-omened victory which must be her death.
Ordener said; " No more of this, Ethel. Let no
name but yours and mine pass our lips at such a
moment."
" Alas ! alas ! " she replied, " then you persist in dying ? "
"I must. I shall go to the scaffold gladly for your
sake ; I should go to the altar with any other woman with
horror and aversion. Say no more; you wound and dis¬
tress me."
She wept, and murmured : " He will die, oh, God, a
death of infamy ! "
The condemned man answered with a smile: " Believe
me, Ethel, there is less dishonor in my death than in such
a life as you propose."
At this instant his eye, glaimingaway from his weeping
Ethel, observed an old man in clerical dress standing in
the shadow under the low, arched door. " ^Yhat do you
want ? " said he, hastily.
"My lord, I came with the Countess d'Ahlefeld's mes¬
senger. You did not see me, and I waited silently until
you should notice me."
HANS OF ICELAND. ' 299
I
In fact, Orclener had eyes for Ethel only ; and she, at
the sight of Ordener, had foigotten her coinpanion.
" I am," continued the old man, " the minister whose
duty it is—"
" I understand," said the young man; " I am ready."
The minister advanced toward him,
" God is also ready to receive you, my son."
" Sir," said Ordener, " your face is not unknown to me;
I must have seen you elsewhere."
The minister bowed. " I too recognize you, my son;
we met in Vygla tower. We both proved upon that oc¬
casion the fallibility of human words. You promised me
the pardon of twelve unhappy prisoners, and I put no
faith in your promise, being unable to guess that you
were the viceroy's son; and you, my lord, who reckoned
upon your power and your rank when you made me that
promise—"
Ordener finished the thought which Athanasius Munder
dared not put into words.
" Cannot now obtain pardon even for myself. You are
right, sir. I had too little reverence for the future; it
has punished me by showing me that its power is greater
than mine."
The minister bent his head. " God is great!" said he.
Then he raised his kind eyes to Ordener, adding, « God
is good!"
Ordener, who seemed preoccupied, exclaimed, after a
brief pause: " Listen, sir; I will keep the promise which
I made you in Vygla tower. When I am dead, go to
Bergen, seek out my father, the viceroy of Norway, and
tell him that the last favor which his son asks of him is to
pardon your twelve proteges. He will grant it, I am sure."
A tear of emotion moistened the wrinkled cheek of
Athanasius.
" My son, your soul must be filled with noble thoughts,
if in the self-same hour you can reject your own pardon
and generously implore that of others. For I heard your
refusal; and although I blame such dangerous and inor¬
dinate affection, I was deeply touched by it. Now I ask
myself,—unde scehcshow could a man who approaches
so near to the model of true justice soil his conscience
with the crime for which you are condemned 'f"
300
HANS OF ICELAND.
« Father, I did not tell my secret to this angel; I can¬
not reveal it to you. But believe that I am not con¬
demned for any crime of mine."
« What ? Explain yourself, my son! "
"Do not urge me," firmly answered the young man.
" Let me take my secret with me to the grave."
" This man cannot be guilty," muttered the minister. '
Then drawing from his breast a black crucifix, he
placed it on a sort of altar rudely shaped from a granite
slab resting against the damp prison wall. Beside the
crucifix he laid a small lighted lamp which he had brought
with him, and an open Bible. "My son, meditate and
pray; I will return a few hours hence. Come," he added,
turning to Ethel, who during this conversation had pre¬
served a solemn silence, " we must leave the prisoner.
Our time has passed."
She rose, calm and radiant; a divine spark fiashed .
from her eyes as she said : " Sir, I cannot go yet; you must
first unite Ethel Schumacker to her husband, Ordener
Guldenlew."
She looked at Ordener.
" If you were still free, happy, and powerful, my Or¬
dener, I should weep, and I should shrink from linking
my fatal destiny with yours. But now that you need no
longer dread the contagion of my misfortune; that you,
like me, are a captive, disgraced and oppressed; now that
you are about to die, I come to you, hoping that you will
at least deign, Ordener, my lord and husband, to allow her
who could never have shared your life, to be your com¬
panion in death; for you love me too much, do jmu not,
to doubt for an instant that I shall die with you ? "
The prisoner fell at her feet, and kissed the hem of
her gown.
" You, old man," she resumed, " must take the place of
family and parents. This cell shall be our temple, this
stone our altar. Here is my ring; we kneel before God
and before you. Bless us, and pronounce the sacred
words which shall unite Ethel Schumacker and Ordener
Guldenlew, her lord."
And they knelt together before the priest, who regarded
them with mingled astonishment and pity.
" How, my children! What would you do ? "
The sweet and solemn ceremony was performed, and with the
final blessing of the priest, they rose a wedded pair. Page 301.
Hans of Iceland.
MANS OF ICELAND.
301
" Father," said the girl, " time presses. God and death
wait for us."
In this life we sometimes meet with irresistible poAvers,
supreme wills to which we yield instantly as if they were
more than human. The priest raised his eyes, sighing:
"May the Lord forgive me if I do wrong! You love
each other; you have but little time to love on earth.
I do not think I shall fail in my allegiance to God if I
legalize your love."
The sweet and solemn ceremony was performed. With
the final blessing of the priest, they rose a wedded pair.
The prisoner's face beamed with painful joy; he seemed
for the first time conscious of the bitterness of death, now
that he realized the sweetness of life. The features of his
companion were sublime in their expression of grandeur
and simplicity; she still felt the modesty of a maiden,
and already exulted as a young wife.
" Hear me, Ordener," said she; " is it not fortunate that
we must die, since we could never have been united
in life! Do you know, love, what I AA'ill do ? I will
stand at the window of my cell, where I can see you
mount the scaffold, so that our spirits may wing their
flight to heaven together. If I should die before the ax
falls, I will wait for you; for we are husband and wife,
my adored Ordener, and this night our coffin shall be
our bridal bed."
He pressed her to his throbbing heart, and could only
utter these words, which for him summed up all human
happiness: " Ethel, you are mine 1"
"My children," said the chaplain, in a broken voice,
" say farewell; it is time."
" Alas ! " cried Ethel.
All her angelic strength returned, and she knelt before
the prisoner: " Farewell, my beloved Ordener I My lord,
give me your blessing."
The prisoner yielded to this touching request, then
turned to take leave of the venerable Athanasius Munder.
The old man was kneeling at his feet.
" What do you wish, father ? " he asked in surprise.
The old man gazed at him with sweet humility; "Your
blessing, my son.^'
« May Heaven bless you, and grant you all the happi-
303
UANS OF ICELAND.
ness which yonr prayers call down upon year brother
men !" replied Ordener, in touched and solemn tones.
Soon the sepulchral arches heard their last kisses and
their last farewells; soon the rude bolts creaked noisily
into place, and the iron door separated the youthful pair
who were to die, only to meet again in "eternity.
CHAPTER XLV.
I will give two thousand crowns to any man who shall deliver
over to me Louis Perez, dead or alive.—Calderon : Louis Perez
of Oalicia.
"Baron Vcethaun, colonel of the Munkholm musket¬
eers, which of the men who fought under your command
at Black Pillar Pass took Hans of Iceland prisoner?
Name him to the court, that he may receive the thousand
crowns reward offered for the capture."
The president of the court thus addressed the colonel
of musketeers. The court was in session; for according
to old Norwegian custom, a court from whose sentence
there is no appeal cannot adjourn until a sentence has
been carried out. Before the judges stood the giant, who
had just been led in agam, with the rope round his neck
from which he was soon to hang.
The colonel, seated at the table with the private secre¬
tary, rose and bowed to the court and to the bishop, who
had reascended his throne.
"My lord judges, the soldier who captured Hans of Ice¬
land is present. His name is Toric-Belfast, second mus¬
keteer of my regiment."
" Let him stand forth," replied the president, " and re¬
ceive the promised reward."
A young soldier in the Munkholm uniform stepped
forward.
" You are Toric-Belfast?" asked the president.
"Yes, your worship."
" It was you who took Hans of Iceland prisoner ? "
" Yes, by the aid of Saint Beelzebub, I did, please your
worship."
A heavy bag of money was placed before the bench.
nAys OF ICELAND.
303
«Do yon recognize this man as the famous Hans of
Iceland ?" added the president, pointing to the fettered
giant.
" I am better acquainted with my Kitty's pretty face
• than with that of Hans of Iceland; but I declare, by the
halo of Saint Belphegor, that if Hans of Iceland he any¬
where, it is in the shape of that big devil."
" Advance, Toric-Belfast," said the president. " Here
are the thousand crowns offered by the lord mayor."
The soldier hurried toward the bench, when a voice
rose from the crowd: " Munkholm musketeer, you never
captured Hans of Iceland."
" By all the blessed devils !" cried the soldier, turning
around, " I own nothing but my pipe and the moment of
time in which I speak; but still I promise to give ten
thousand gold crowns to the man who says that, if he can
prove his words."
And folding his arms, he cast an assured glance over
the audience: " Well! let the man who spoke, show him¬
self." _
" It is I!" said a small man, elbowing his way through
the crowd.
The newcomer was wrapped in sealskin, like a Green-
lander, his outlandish garb hanging stiffly about him.
His beard was black; and thick hair of the same color,
falling over his red eyebrows, concealed a hideous face.
Neither his hands nor his arms were visible.
" Oh, it is you, is it ?" said the soldier, with a loud
laugh. " And who, then, do you say it was, my fine gentle¬
man, that had the honor of capturing that infernal giant ? "
The little man shook his head, and said with a mali¬
cious smile: " It was I."
At this instant Baron Voethalin fancied that he rec¬
ognized the mysterious being who had warned him at
Skongen of the arrival of the rebels; Chancellor d'Ahle-
feld thought he recognized his host at Arbar ruin; and
the private secretary, a certain peasant from Oelmce, who
wore a similar dress, and who had pointed out the lair of
Hans of Iceland. But the three being separated, they
could not impart to one another this fleeting impression,
which the diffyences of feature and costume, afterward
observed, must have soon dissipated.
304
HANS OF ICELAND.
"Indeed! it Avas you, was it?" ironically observed the
soldier. " If it were not for your Greenland seal's costume,
by the look which you cast at me, I should be tempted to
take you for another ridiculous dwarf, who tried to pick
a quarrel with me at the Spladgest, a fortnight or so ago..
It was the very day that they brought in the body of Gill
Stadt, the miner."
" Gill Stadt!" broke in the little man, with a shudder.
" Yes, Gill Stadt I " repeated the soldier, with an air of
indifference,—" the rejected lover of a girl who was SAveet-
heart to a comrade of mine, and for whose sake he died,
like the fool that he was."
The little man .said in hollow tones: "Was there not
also the body of an officer of your regiment at the
Spladgest ? "
" Exactly; I shall remember that day as long as I live.
I forgot that it was the hour for the tattoo, and I was
arrested Avhen I got back to the fort. That officer Avas
Captain Dispolsen."
At this name the private secretary rose.
" These two felloAvs abuse the patience of the court.
We beg the president to cut short this idle chatter."
" By my Kitty's good name ! I ask nothing better," said
Toric-Belfast, " provided your worships will give me the
thousand croAvns offered for the head of Hans, for it was
I who took him prisoner."
" You lie I " cried the little man.
The soldier clapped his hand to his SAvord: " It is very
lucky for you, you rascal, that Ave are in the presence of
the court, Avhere a soldier, even a Munkholm musketeer,
must never resort to force."
"The reward," coldly observed the little man, "belongs
to me ; for if it were not for me, you Avould never have
won Hans of Iceland's head."
The indignant soldier swore that it was he Avho captured
Hans of Iceland, when, wounded on the field of battle, he
was just beginning to revive.
"Well," said his opponent, "you may have captured
him, but it was I Avho struck him down. If it had not
been for me, you could never have taken him prisoner ;
therefore the thousand crowns are mine."
• " It is false," replied the soldier. " It was not you Avho
4
HANS OF ICELAND.
struck him down; it was an evil spirit, clad in the skins
of wild beasts."
" It was I!"
" No, no! "
The president ordered both parties to be silent: then,
again asking Colonel Voethaun whether it was really
Toric-Belfast who brought Hans of Iceland into camp a
prisoner, at his assent he declared that the prize belonged
to the soldier.
The small man gnashed his teeth, and the musketeer
greedily stretched out his hands for the sack.
" One moment!" cried the little man. " Mr President,
that money according to the lord mayor's proclamation,
was to be given to him who took Hans of Iceland."
" Well? " said the judge.
The little ihan turned to the giant: " That man is not
Hans of Iceland."
A murmur of surprise ran through the room. The
president and private secretary moved uneasily in their
chairs.
" No ! " emphatically reiterated the small man, " the
money does not belong to the cursed musketeer of Munk-
holm, for that man is not Hans of Iceland."
" Halberdiers," said the president, " remove this mad¬
man ; he has lost his senses."
The bishop interposed: " Will you allow me, most
worthy President, to remark that you may, by refusing to
hear this man, destroy the prisoner's last chance ? I de¬
mand that he be confronted with the stranger."
" Reverend Bishop, the court will grant your request,"
replied the president; and addressing the giant: " You
have declared yourself to be Hans of Iceland; do you
persist in that statement ? "
The prisoner answered: " I do ; I am Hans of Iceland."
" You hear. Bishop? "
The little man shouted in the same breath with the
president: "You lie, mountaineer of Kiolen! you lie!
Do not persist in bearing a name which must crush you;
remember that it has been fatal to you already."
«I am Hans from Klipstadur, in Iceland," repeated the
giant, his eye riveted on the private secretary.
The small man approached the Munkholm soldier, who.
306
HAys OF ICELAyn.
like the rest of the audience, had watched this scene with
eager curiosity.
" Mountaineer of Kidlen," he cried, "they say that Hans
of Iceland drinks human blood. If you be he, drink.
Here it is."
And scarcely were the words out of his mouth, when,
tossing his sealskin mantle over his shoulder, he plunged
a dagger into the soldier's heart, and flung his dead body
at the giant's feet.
A cry of fright and horror followed; the soldiers guard¬
ing the giant started back. The small man, swift as
lightning, rushed upon the defenseless mountaineer, and
with another blow of his dagger, laid him upon the first
corpse. Then flinging off his cloak, his false hair, and
black beard, he revealed his wiry limbs, hideously attired
in the skins of wild beasts, and a face which inspired the
beholders with even greater hori-or than did the bloody
dagger which he brandished aloft, reeking with a double
murder.
" Ha! judges, where is Hans of Iceland now? "
" Guards, seize that monster!" cried the startled
judge.
Hans hurled his dagger into the center of the room.
" It is useless to me if there are no more Munkholm
soldiers here."
With these words, he yielded unresistingly to the hal¬
berdiers and bowmen who surrounded him, prepared to
lay siege to him, as to a city. They chained the monster
to the prisoner's bench ; and a litter bore away his victims,
one of whom, the mountaineer, still breathed.
It is impossible to describe the various emotions
terror, astonishment, and indignation which, during tl
fearful scene, agitated the people, the guards, and tl.i
judges. When the brigand had taken his place, calm and
unmoved, upon the fatal bench, a feeling of curiosity over¬
came every other impression, and breathless attention re¬
stored quiet.
The venerable bishop rose: " My lord judges—"
The bandit interrupted him : " Bishop of Throndhjem,
I am Hans of Iceland, do not take the trouble to plead for
me."
The private secretary rose : " Noble President—"
*
HANS OF ICELAND.
The monster cut him short: "Private Secretary, I am
Hans of Iceland; do not take the pains to accuse me."
Then, his feet in a pool of blood, he ran his bold, fierce
eye over the court, the bowmen, and the crowd; and it
seemed as if each of them trembled with fear at the glance
of that one man, unarmed, chained, and alone.
" Listen, judges; expect no long speeches from me. I
am the demon of Klipstadur. My mother was old Iceland,
the land of volcanoes. Once that land was but one huge
lountain ; it was crushed by the hand of a giant, who
'11 from heaven, and rested on its highest peak. I need
ot speak of myself. I am a descendant of Ingulf the
U'stroyer, and I bear his spirit within me. I have com-
itted more murders and kindled more fires than all of
i)u put together ever uttered unjust sentences in your
ives. I have secrets in common with Chancellor d'Ahle-
feld. I could drink every drop of blood that flows in
your veins with delight. It is my nature to hate man¬
kind, my mission to harm them. Colonel of the Munk-
holm musketeers, it was I who warned you of the march
of the miners through Black Pillar Pass, sure that you
would kill numbers of men in those gorges; it was I de¬
stroyed a whole battalion of your regiment by hurling
granite bowlders upon their heads. I did it to avenge
my son. Now, judges, my son is dead; I came here in
search of death. The soul of Ingulf oppresses me, because
I must bear it alone, and can never transmit it to an heir.
I am tired of life, since it can no longer be an example
and a lesson to a successor. I have drunk enough blood ;
my thirst is quenched. Now, here I am; you may drink
mine."
He was silent, and every voice repeated his awful
words.
The bishop said: " My son, what was your object in
committing so many crimes?"
The brigand laughed: " I' faith, I swear, reverend
Bishop, it was not like your brother, the bishop of Borg-
lum, with a view to enrich myself. * There was some¬
thing in me which drove me to it."
* Certain clironiclei's assert that in 1.535 a bishop of Borglum
made liiinself notorious by liis depredations. He is said to have
kept pirates in his pay, who infested the coast of Norway.
3U8
HANS OF ICELAND.
" God does not always dwell in his ministers," meekly
replied the saintly old man. " You would insult me, but
I only wish I could defend you."
" Your reverence wastes his breath. Go ask your other
brother, the bishop of Scalholt, in Iceland, to defend me.
By Ingulf! it is a strange thing that two bishops should
protect me,—one in my cradle, the other at my tomb.
Bishop, you are an old fool."
" My son, do you believe in God ? "
" Why not ? There must be a God for us to blas¬
pheme."
" Cease, unhappy man! You are about to die, and you
will not kiss the feet of Christ—"
• Hans of Iceland shrugged his shoulders.
" If I did so, it would be after the fashion of the con¬
stable of Roll, who pulled the king over as he kissed his
foot."
The bishop seated himself, deeply moved.
" Come, judges," continued Hans of Iceland, " why this
delay 2 If I were in your place and you in mine, I would
not keep you waiting so long for your death sentence."
The court withdrew. After a brief deliberation they
returned, and the president read aloud the sentence, which
declared that Hans of Iceland was to be " hung by the
neck until he was dead, dead, dead."
" That's good," said the brigand. " Chancellor d'Ahle-
feld, I know enough about you to obtain a like sentence
for you. But live, since you do naught but injure men.
Oh, I am sure now that I shall not go to Nistheim ? " *
The private secretary ordered the guards who led him
away to place him in the Lion of Schleswig tower, until a
dungeon could be prepared for him in the quarters of the
Munkholm regiment, where he might await his execution.
" In the quarters of the Munkholm musketeers! " re¬
peated the monster, with a growl of pleasure.
* According to popular superstition, Nistheim was the hell re¬
served for those who died of disease or old age.
HAJyS OF ICELAND.
309
CHAPTER XLVI.
However, the corpse of Ponce de Leon, which had remained be¬
side the fountain, having been disfigured by the sun, the Moors
of Alpuxares took possession of it and bore it to Grenada.—£). H.:
The Captive of Ochali.
Before dawn of the day so many of whose events we
have already traced, at the very hour when Ordener's
sentence was pronounced at Munkholm, the new keeper
of the Throndhjem Spladgest, Benignus Spiagudry's
former assistant and present successor, Oglypiglap, was
abruptly aroused from his mattress by a violent series of
raps, which fairly shook the building. He rose reluc¬
tantly, took his copper lamp, whose dim light dazzled his
drowsy eyes, and went, swearing at the dampness of the
dead-house, to open to those who waked him so early from
his sleep.
They were fishers from Sparbo, who carried upon a
litter, strewed with reeds, rushes, and seaweed, a corpse
which they had found in the waters of the lake.
They laid down their burden within the gloomy walls,
and Oglypiglap gave them a receipt for it, so that they
might claim their fee.
Left alone in the Spladgest, he began to undress the
corpse, which was remarkable for its length and leanness.
The first thing which caught his eye as he raised the
cloth which covered it was a vast periwig.
" Why, really," said he," this outlandish wig has passed
through my hands before; it belonged to that young
French dandy. . . . And," he added, continuing his inves¬
tigations, " here are the high boots of poor postilion Cram-
ner, who was killed by his horses, and—What the devil
does this mean ?—the full black suit of Professor Syn-
gramtax, that learned old fogy, who dro^vned himself not
long ago ! Who can this newcomer be that comes here
clad in the cast-off apparel of all my ancient acquaint¬
ance ? "
He examined* the face of the dead by the light of his
lamp, but in vain; the features, already decomposed, had
310
HANS OF ICELAND.
lost their original shape and color. He felt in the pockets
and drew out some scraps of parchment soaked with water
and stained with mud; he wiped them carefully on his
leather apron, and succeeded in deciphering on one of them
these disconnected and half-effaced phrases: " Rudbeck,
Saxon, the grammarian. Arngrimmsson, bishop of Ho-
lum.—There are but two counties in Norway, Larvig and
Jarlsberg, and but one barony.— Silver mines exist only
at Kongsberg; loadstone and asbestos, at Sund-Moer;
amethyst, at Guldbrandsdal; chalcedony, agate, and
jasper, at the Faroe Islands.—At Noukahiva, in time of
famine, men eat their wives and children.—Thormodr
Torfusson; Isleif, bishop of Scalholt, first historian of
Iceland.—Mercury played at chess with the Moon, and
won the seventy-second part of a day.—Maelstrom, whirl¬
pool.—Hinmdo, hirudo.—Cicero, chick pea; glory.—The
learned Frode.—Odin cc ^suited the head of Mimer, the
wise.—(Mahomet and his dove, Sertorius and his hind.)—
The more the soil—the less gypsum it contains—"
" I can scarcely believe my eyes!" he cried, dropping
the parchment; " it is the wTiting of my old master,
Benignus Spiagudry!"
Then, examining the corpse afresh, he recognized the
long lean hands, the scanty hair, and the whole build of
the unfortunate man.
" They were not so much out of the way, after all,"
thought he, shaking his head, "who charged him with
sacrilege and necromancy. The Devil carried him oflf to
drown him in Lake Sparbo. What poor fools we mortals
be! Who would ever have thought that Dr. Spiagudry,
after taking so many people to board in his hostelry of the
dead, would come here at last from afar to be cared for
himself! "
The little Lapp philosopher lifted the body, to remove
it to one of his six granite beds, when he found that some¬
thing heavy was fastened about the unhappy Spiagudry's
neck by a leather cord.
" Probably the stone with which the Devil pitched him
into the lake," he muttered.
He was mistaken; it was a small iron box upon which,
on examining it closely, after wiping it carefully, he dis¬
covered a large shield-shaped padlock.
HANS OF ICELAND.
311
" Of course there is some deviltry in this box," said he;
" the man was a sacrilegious sorcerer. I will hand it over
to the bishop ; it may contain an evil spirit."
Then, taking it from the corpse, which he placed in the
inner room, he hurried away to the bishop's palace, mut¬
tering a prayer as he went, as a charm against the dread¬
ful box under his arm.
CHAPTER XLYII.
Is it a man or an infernal spirit that speaks thus? What mis¬
chievous spirit torments thee thus ? Show me the relentless foe
who inhabits thy heart.—Maturin.
Hans of Iceland and Schumacher were in the same
cell in the Schleswig tower. The acquitted ex-chancel¬
lor paced slowly to and fro, his eyes heavy with bitter
tears; the condemned brigand laughed at his chains,
though surrounded by guards.
The tAvo prisoners studied each other long and silently;
it seemed as if both felt themselves and mutually recog¬
nized each other as enemies of mankind.
" Who are you ?" at length asked the ex-chancellor.
" I will tell you my name," replied the bandit, " to
make you shun me. I am Hans of Iceland."
Schumacker advanced toward him.
" Take my hand," said he.
" Do you wish me to devour it ? "
" Hans of Iceland," rejoined Schumacker, "I like you
because you hate mankind."
" And for that reason I hate you."
" Hark ye, I hate men, as you do, because they have
returned me evil for good."
"You do not hate them as I do; I hate them because
they have returned me good for evil."
Schumacker shuddered at the monster's expression.
In vain he conquered his natural disposition; he could
not sympathize with this fiend.
"Yes," he exclaimed, "I abhor men because they are
false, ungratef^il, cruel. I owe to them all the misery of
my life."
312
HANS OF ICELAND.
" So much the better! I owe them all the pleasure of
mine."
" What pleasure ? "
« The pleasure of feeling their quivering flesh throb
beneath my teeth, their hot blood moisten my parched
throat; the rapture of crushing living beings against
sharp rocks, and hearing the shriek of my victims mingle
with the sound of their breaking limbs. These are the
pleasures which I owe to men."
Schumacker shrank in horror from the monster whom
he had approached with something like pride in his
resemblance to him. Pierced with shame, he hid his
wrinkled face in his hands; for his eyes were full of tears
of anger, not against mankind, but against himself. His
great and noble heart began to revolt at the hatred he had
so long cherished, when he saw it reflected in Hans of
Iceland's heart as in a fearful mirror.
"Well," said the monster, with a sneer,—"well, enemy
of man, dare you boast your likeness to me ? "
The old man shuddered. " Oh, God ! Rather than
hate mankind as you do, let me love them."
Guards came to remove the monster to a more secure
cell. Schumacker was left alone in his dungeon to dream;
but he was no longer the enemy of mankind.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
Keep me, O Lord, from the hands of the wicked;
Preserve me from the violent man ;
Who have purposed to thrust aside my step.
The proud have hid a snare for me, and cords ;
They have spread a net by the wayside ;
They have set gins for me.
Psalms cxl. 4.
The fatal hour had come; the sun showed but half
his disk above the horizon. The guards were doubled
throughout Munkholm castle; before each door paced
fierce, silent sentinels. The noises of the town seemed
louder and more confused than usual as they ascended to
the dark towers of the fortress, itself a prey to strange
HANS OF ICELAND.
313
excitement. The mournful sound of muffled drums was
heard in every courtyard ; now and again cannon growled;
the heavy bell in the donjon tolled slowly, with sullen,
measured strokes; and from every direction boats loaded
with people hastened toward the fearful rock.
A scaffold hung with black, around which an impatient
mob swarmed in ever-increasing numbers, rose from the
castle parade-ground in the center of a hollow square of
troops. Upon the scaffold a man clad in red serge walked
up and down, now leaning upon the ax in his hand, and
now fingering a billet and block upon the funeral plat¬
form. Close at hand a stake was prepared, before- which
several pitch torches burned. Between the scaffold and
the stake was planted S, post, from which hung the in¬
scription: "ORDENER GULDENLEW, TRAITOR."
A black flag floated from the top of the Schleswig tower.
At this moment Ordener appeared before the judges,
still assembled in the court-room. The bishop alone was
absent; his office as counsel for the defense had ended.
The son of the viceroy was dressed in biack, and wore
upon his neck the coilar of the Dannebrog. His face was
paie but proud. He was aione ; for he had been led forth
to torture before Chaplain Athanasius Munder returned
to his cell.
Ordener's sacrifice was already inwardly accomplished.
And yet Ethel's husband still clung to life, and might
perhaps have chosen another night than that of the tomb
for his wedding night. He had prayed and dreamed
many dreams in his dreary celi. Now he was beyond
aii prayers and ail dreams. He was strong in the strength
imparted by religion and by love.
The crowd, more deeply moved than the prisoner,
eagerly gazed at him. His illustrious rank, his horrible
fate, awakened universal envy and pity. Every spectator
watched his punishment, without comprehending his
crime. In every human heart lurks a strange feeling
which urges its owner to behold the tortures of others as
well as their pleasures. Men seek with awful avidity to
read destruction upon the distorted features of one who is
about to die, as if some revelation from heaven or from
hell must appear at that awful moment in the poor
wretch's eyes; as if they would learn what sort of
3U
HANS OF ICELAND.
shadow is cast by the death angel's wing as he hovers
over a human head; as if they would search and know
what is left to a man when hope is gone. That being,
full of health and strength, moving, breathing, living, and
which in another instant must cease to move, breathe, and
live, surrounded by beings like himself, whom he never
harmed, all of whom pity him, and none of whom can
help him; that wretched being, dying, though not dead,
bending alike beneath an eartlaly power and an invisible
might; this life, which society could not give, but which
it takes with all the pomp and ceremony of legal murder,
—profoundly stir the popular imagination. Condemned,
as all of us are, to death, with an indefinite reprieve, the
unfortunate man who knows the exact hour when his
reprieve expires is an object of strange a.nd painful
curiosity.
The reader may remember that before he mounted the
scaffold, Ordener was to be taken before the court, there
to be stripped of his titles and honors. Hardly had the
stir excited in the assembly by his arrival given place to
quiet, when the president ordered the book of heraldry of
both kingdoms, and the statutes of the order of the Dan-
nebrog, to be brought.
Then directing the prisoner to kneel upon one knee,
he commanded the spectators to pay respectful heed,
opened the book of the knights of the Dannebrog, and
began to read in a loud, stern voice : " We, Christian, by
the grace and mercy of Almighty God, king of Denmark
and Norway, of Goths and Vandals, Duke of Schleswig,
Holstein, Stormaria, and Dytmarsen, Count of Oldenburg
and Delmenhurst, do declare :—
" That having re-established, at the suggestion of the
lord chancellor. Count Griftenfeld [ the president passed
over this name so rapidly that it was scarcely audible],
the royal order of the Dannebrog, founded by our illus¬
trious ancestor. Saint Waldemar,
" Whereas we hold that inasmuch as the said vener¬
able order was created in memory of the flag Dannebrog
sent down from heaven to our blessed kingdom,
" It would belie the divine origin of the order should
any knight forfeit his honor, or break the holy laws of
Church and State with impunity,
HANS OF ICELAND.
315
"We therefore decree, kneeling before God, that wlio-
soever of the knights of the order shall deliver his soul
to the demon by any felony or treason, after a public
reprimand from the court, shall be forever degraded from
his rank as a knight of this our royal order of the
Dannebrog."
The president closed the book. " Ordener Guldenlew,
Baron Thorwick, Knight of the Dannebrog, you have been
found guilty of high treason, for which crime your head
shall be cut off, your body burned, and your ashes flung
to the winds. Ordener Guldenlew, traitor, you have
shown yourself unworthy to hold rank with the knights
of the Dannebrog. I request you to humble yourself,
for I am about to degrade you publicly in the name of
the king."
The president stretched his hand over the book of the
order and prepared to pronounce the fatal formula against
Ordener, who remained calm and motionless, when a side
door opened to the right of the bench.
An officer of the Church entered and announced his
reverence, the bishop of Throndhjem. lie entered hur¬
riedly, accompanied by another ecclesiastic, on whose arm
he leaned.
" Stop, Mr. President!" he exclaimed with a strength of
which a man of his age seemed hardly capable. " Stop!
Heaven be praised ! I am in time."
The audience listened with renewed interest, foreseeing
some fresh development. The president turned angrily
to the bishop : " Allow me to inform your reverence that
your presence here is wholly unnecessary. The court
is about to degrade from his rank the prisoner, who will
suffer the penalty of his crime directly."
" Forbear," said the bishop," to lay hands on one who is
pure in the sight of God. The prisoner is innocent."
The cry of astonishment which burst from the specta¬
tors was only matched by the cry of terror uttered by the
president and private secretary.
" Yes, tremble, judges !" resumed the bishop, before the
president could recover his usual presence of mind;
" tremble ! for you are about to shed innocent blood."
As the president's agitation died away, Ordener arose
in consternation. The noble youth feared lest his gener-
X
31G
HANS OF ICELAND.
ous ruse had been discovered, and proofs of Schumacker's
guilt had been found.
" Bishop," said the president, " in this affair crime seems
to evade us, being transferred from one to another. Do
not trust to any mere appearance. If Ordener Guldenlew
be innocent, who, then, is guilty ? "
"Your grace shall know," replied the bishop. Then
showing the court an iron casket which a servant had
brought in behind him: "Noble lords, you have judged
in darkness; within this casket is the miraculous light
which shall dissipate that darkness."
The president, private secretary, and Ordener, all
seemed amazed at the sight of the mysterious casket.
The bishop added, " Noble judges, hear me. To-day,
as I returned to my palace, to rest from the fatigues of
the night and to pray for the prisoners, I received this
sealed iron box. The keeper of the Spladgest, I was told,
brought it to the palace this morning to be given to me,
declaring that it undoubtedly contained some Satanic
charm, as he had found it on the body of the sacrilegious
Benign us Spiagudry, which had just been fished out of
Lake Sparbo."
Ordener listened more eagerly than ever. All the spec¬
tators were as still as death. The president and private
secretary hung their heads guiltily. They seemed to have
lost all their cunning and audacity. There is a moment
in the life of every sinner when his power vanishes.
" After blessing this casket," continued the bishop, " we
broke the seal, which, as you can still see, bears the an¬
cient and now extinct arms of Griffenfeld. We did indeed
find a devilish secret within. You shall judge for your¬
selves, venerable sirs. Lend me your most earnest atten¬
tion, for human blood is at stake, and the Lord will hold
you accountable for every drop that you m'ay shed."
Then opening the terrible casket, he drew forth a slip
of parchment, upon which was written the following
testimony:—
" I, Blaxtham Cumbysulsum, doctor, being about to die,
do declare that of my own free will and pleasure I have
placed in the hands of Captain Dispolsen, the agent, at
Copenhagen, of the former Count Grlffenfeld, the en-
IT A -V .S OF ICEL A F D.
317
closed document, drawn up wholly by the hand of Turiaf
Musdcemon, servant of the Chancellor, Count d'Ahlefeld,
to the end that the said captain may make such use of it
as shall seem to him best; and I pray God to pardon my
crimes.
" Given under my hand and seal at Copenhagen, this
eleventh day of January, 1699.
" CuMBYSULSUM. "
The private secretary shook like a leaf. He tried to
speak, but could not. The bishop handed the parchment
to the pale and agitated president.
" What do I see ? " exclaimed the latter, as he unfolded
the parchment. " A note to the noble Count d'Ahlefeld,
upon the means of legally ridding himself of Sehumacker !
I—I swear, reverend Bishop—"
The paper dropped from his trembling fingers.
" Read it, read it, sir," said the bishop. " I doubt not
that your unworthy servant has abused your name as he
has that of the unfortunate Sehumacker. Only see the
result of your uncharitable aversion to your fallen prede¬
cessor. One of your followers has plotted his' ruin in
your name, doubtless hoping to make a merit of it to
your Grace."
These words revived the president, as showing him that
the suspicions of the bishop, who was acquainted with the
entire contents of the casket, had not fallen upon him.
Ordener also breathed more freely. He began to see that
the innocence of Ethel's father might be made manifest
at the same time with his own. He felt a deep surprise
at the singular fate which had led him to pursue a fearful
brigand to recover this casket, which his old guide,
Benignus Spiagudry, bore about him all the time; that
it was actually following him while he was seeking for
it. He also reflected on the solemn lesson of the events
which, after ruining him by means of this same fatal
casket, now proved the instrument of his salvation.
The president, recovering himself, read with much show
of indignation, in which the entire audience shared, a
lengthy memorandum, in which Musdcemon set forth all
the details of the abominable scheme which we have seen
him. execute in the course of this story. Several times
318
BANS OF ICELAND.
the private secretary attempted to rise and defend him¬
self, but eaeh time he was frowned down. At last the
odious reading came to an end amid a murmur of uni¬
versal horror.
" Halberdiers, seize that man!" said the president,
pointing to the private secretary.
The wretch, speechless and almost lifeless, stepped from
his place, and was cast into the criminal dock, followed by
the hoots of the populace.
"Judges," said the bishop, " shudder and rejoice. The
truth, which has just been brought home to your con¬
sciences, will now be even more strongly confirmed by
the testimony of our honored brother, Athanasius Munder,
chaplain to the prisons of this royal town."
It was indeed Athanasius Munder who accompanied
the bishop. He bowed to his superior in the Church and
to the court, then at a sign from the president, proceeded
as follows : " What I am about to state is the truth. May
Heaven punish me if I utter a word with any other object
than to do my duty ! From what I saw this morning in
the cell of the viceroy's son, I was led to think that the
young man was not guilty, although your lordships had
condemned him upon his own confession. Now, I was
called, a few hours since, to give the last spiritual conso¬
lations to the unfortunate mountaineer so cruelly mur¬
dered before your very eyes, and whom you condemned,
worthy sirs, as being Hans of Iceland. The dying man
said to me; 'I am not Hans of Iceland; I am justly
punished for having assumed his name. I was paid to
play the part by the chancellor's private secretary ; he is
called Musdoemon; and it was he who managed the Avhole
revolt under the name of Haeket! I believe him to be the
only guilty man in this whole matter.' Then he asked
me to give him my blessing, and advised me to make haste
and repeat his last words to the court. God is my
witness. May I save the shedding of innocent blood, and
not cause that of the guilty to flow."
He ceased, again bowing to his bishop and the judges.
"Your Grace sees," said the bishop to the president,
that one of my clients was not mistaken when he found
so much resemblance between Hacket and your private
secretary."
ri
HANS OF ICELAND.
310
" Turiaf Musdceraon," said the president to the prisoner,
" what have you to say in your defense ? "
Musdoenion looked at his master with an expression
which alarmed him. He had recovered his usual impu¬
dence, and after a brief pause, answered; "Nothing, sir."
The president resumed in a weak and faltering voice:
" Then you acknowledge yourself guilty of the crime with
which you are charged ? You confess yourself to be the ^
author of a conspiracy alike against the State and against
one John Schumacker ? "
" I do, my lord," replied Musdoemon.
The bishop rose. " Mr. President, that there may be
no shadow of doubt in this affair, will your grace ask the
prisoner if he had any accomplices ? "
"Accomplices?" repeated Musdoemon.
He hesitated a moment. The president wore a look of
awful anxiety.
" No, my lord Bishop," he said at last.
The president's look of relief fell full upon him.
" No, I had no accomplices," repeated Musdoemon, still
more emphatically. " I concocted this plot through affec¬
tion for my master, who knew nothing of it, to destroy
his enemy, Schumacker."
The eyes of prisoner and president met once more.
"Your grace," said the bishop, " must see that as Mus¬
doemon had no accomplices. Baron Ordener Guldenlew
must be innocent."
" Then why, worthy Bishop, did he confess his guilt ? "
" Mr. President, why did that mountaineer persist that
he was Hans of Iceland at the risk of his life ? God alone
knows our secret motives."
Ordener took up the word: " Judges, I can tell you my
motive, now that the real criminal has been discovered.
I accused myself falsely to save the former chancellor,
Schumacker, whose death would have left his daughter
without a protector."
The president bit his lip.
"We request the court," said the bishop, "to proclaim
the innocence of our client, Ordener Guldenlew."
The president responded with a nod ; and at the request
of the lord i^^a^'or, they finished their examination of
the terrible casket, which contained nothing more except
330
IIAXS! OF ICELAXD.
Schumacker's titles of nobility, and a few letters from the
Munkholm prisoner to Captain Dispolsen,—bitter, but
not criminal letters, which alarmed no one but Chancellor
d'Ahlefeld.
The court then withdrew; and after a brief deliberation,
while the curious crowd, gathered on the parade, waited
with stubborn impatience to see the viceroy's son led
forth to die, and the executioner nonchalantly paced the
scaffold, the president pronounced in a scarcely audible
voice the death sentence of Turiaf Musdoemon, the ac¬
quittal of Ordener Guldenlew, and the restoration of all
his honors, titles, and privileges.
CHAPTER XLIX.
What will you sell me your carcass for, my boy?
I would not give you. in faith, a broken toy.
Saint Michael and Satan (Old Miracle Play).
The remnant of the regiment of Munkholm musket¬
eers had returned to their old quarters in the barracks,
which stood in the center of a vast, square courtyard
within the fortress. At nightfall the doors of this
building were barricaded, all the soldiers withdrawing
into it, with the exception of the sentinels upon the
various towers, and the handful of men on guard before
the military prison adjoining the barracks. This, being
the safest and best watched place of confinement in Munk¬
holm, contained the two prisoners sentenced to be hanged
on the foiiowing morning, Hans of Iceiand and Mus¬
doemon.
Hans of Iceland was alone in his cell. He was stretched
upon the floor, chained, his head upon a stone ; a feeble
light filtered through a square grated opening, cut in the
heavy oak door which divided his cell from the next
room, where he heard his jailers laugh and swear, and
heard the sound of the bottles which they drained, and
the dice which they threw upon a drum-head. The mon¬
ster silently writhed in the darkness, his limbs twitched
convulsively, and he gnashed his teeth.
AH at once he lifted his voice and called aloud. A
TTAl^fi or ICELAl^D.
321
turnkey appeared at the grating: " What do you want V "
said he.
Hans of Iceland rose. " Mate, I am cold ; my stone bed
is hard and damp. Give me a bundle of straw to sleep
on, and a little fire to warm myself."
" It is only fair," replied the turnkey, " to give a little
comfort to a poor devil who is going to be hung, even if
ne be the Iceland Devil. I will bring you what you want.
Have you any money ? "
"No," replied the brigand.
" What! you, the most famous robber in Norway, and
you have not a few scurvy gold ducats in your pouch ? "
"No," repeated the brigand.
" A few little crowns ? "
" I tell you, no !"
" Not even a few paltry escalins ? "
" No, no, nothing; not enough to buy a rat's skin or a
man's soul."
The turnkey shook his head: " That's a different mat¬
ter; you have no right to complain. Your cell is not so
cold as the one you will have to sleep in to-morrow, and
yet I'll be bound you won't notice the hardness of that
bed."
So saying, the jailer withdrew, followed by the curses
of the monster, who continued to rattle his chains, which
gave forth a hollow clang as if they were breaking slowly
under repeated and violent jerks and pulls.
The door opened. A tall man, dressed in red serge,
carrying a dark lantern, entered the cell, accompanied by
the jailer who had refused the prisoner's request. The
latter at once became perfectly quiet.
"Hans of Iceland," said the man in red, "I am Nychol
Orugix, executioner of the province of Throndhjem; to¬
morrow, at sunrise, I am to have the honor of hanging
your Excellency upon a fine new gallows in Throndhjem
market-place."
" Are you very sure that you will hang me ? " replied
the brigand.
The executioner laughed. " I wish you were as sure to
rise straight into heaven by Jacob's ladder as you are to
mount the scaffold by Nychol Orugix's ladder."
" Indeed ? * said the monster, with a malicious grin.
21
323
TIAXS OF ICELAST).
"I tell you again, Sir Brigand, that I am hangman for
the province."
" If I were not myself I should like to be you," replied
the brigand.
" I can't say the same for you," rejoined the hangman;
then rubbing his hands with a conceited and complacent
smirk, he added: "My friend, you are right; ours is a
fine trade. Ah! my hand knows the weight of a man's
head."
" Have you often tasted blood ? " asked the brigand.
" No ; but I have often used the rack."
" Have you ever devoured the entrails of a living child ? "
" No; but I have crushed men's bones in a vise ; I have
broken their limbs upon the wheel; I have dulled steel
saws upon their skulls ; I have torn their quivering flesh
with red-hot pincers; I have burned the blood in their
open veins by pouring in a stream of molten lead and
boiling oil."
" Yes," said the brigand, with a thoughtful look, " you
have your pleasures too."
" In fact," added the hangman," Hans of Iceland though
you be, I imagine that my hands have released more
human souls than yours, to say nothing of your own, which
you must render up to-morrow."
" Always provided that I have one. Do you suppose,
then, executioner of Throndhjem, that you can release the
spirit of Ingulf from Hans of Iceland's mortal frame
without its carrying off your own ? "
The executioner laughed heartily. " Indeed, we shall
see to-morrow."
"We shall see," said the brigand.
" Well," said the executioner, " I did not come here to
talk of your spirit, but only of your body. Hearken!
your body by law belongs to me after your death; but the
law gives you the right to sell it to me. Tell me what
you will take for it ? "
" What I will take for my corpse ? " said the brigand.
" Yes, and be reasonable."
Hans of Iceland turned to his jailer: " Tell me, mate,
how much do you ask for a bundle of straw and a handful
of fire ? "
The jailer reflected. " Two gold ducats."
BANS OF ICELAND.
323
"Well," said the brigand to the hangman, "you must
give me two gold ducats for my corpse."
"Two gold ducats !" cried the hangman. "It is hor¬
ribly dear. Two gold ducats for a wretched corpse! No,
indeed ! I'll give no such price."
" Then," quietly responded the monster, " you shall not
have it."
" Then you will be thrown into the common sewer,
instead of adorning the Royal Museum at Copenhagen
or the collection of curiosities at Bergen."
" What do I care ? "
" Long after your death, people will flock to look at
your skeleton, saying,' Those are the remains of the famous
Hans of Iceland!' Your bones will be nicely polished,
and strung on copper wire ; you will be placed in a big
glass case, and dusted carefully every day. Instead of
these honors, consider what awaits you if you refuse to
sell me your body; you will be left to rot in some charnel-
house, where you will be the prey of worms and other
vermin."
"Well, I shall be like the living, who are perpetually
preyed upon by their inferiors and devoured by their
superiors."
" Two gold ducats ! " muttered the hangman ; " what an
exorbitant price! If you will not come down in your
terms, my dear fellow, we can never make a trade."
" It is my first and probably my last trade ; I am bent
on having it a good one."
" Consider that I may make you repent of your obsti¬
nacy. To-morrow you will be in my power."
" Do you think so ? " These words were uttered with
a look which escaped the hangman.
"Yes; and there is a certain way of tightening a slip¬
knot—but if you will only be reasonable, I will hang
you in my best manner."
" Little do I care what you do to my neck to-morrow,"
replied the monster, with a mocking air.
" Come, won't you be satisfled with two crowns ? What
can you do with the money ? "
" Ask your comrade there," said the brigand, pointing
to the turnkeys " he charges me two gold ducats for a
handful of straw and a fire."
324
HANS OF ICELAND.
"Now by Saint Joseph's saw," said the hangman,
angrily addressing the turnkey, " it is shocking to make
a man pay its weight in gold for a fire and a little
worthless straw."
" Two ducats ! " the turnkey replied sourly; " I've a
good mind to make him pay four! It is you. Master
Nychol, who act like a regular screw in refusing to give
this poor prisoner two gold ducats for his corpse, when
you can sell it for at least twenty to some learned old
fogy or some doctor."
" I never paid more than twenty escalins for a corpse in
my life," said the hangman.
"Yes," replied the jailer, "for the body of some paltry
thief, or some miserable Jew, that may be; but everybody
knows that you can get whatever you choose to ask for
Hans of Iceland's body."
Hans of Iceland shook his head.
" What business is it of yours ? " said Orugix, curtly;
" do I interfere with your plunder,—with the clothes
and jewels that you steal from the prisoners, and the
dirty water which you pour into their thin soup, and
the torture to which you put them, to extort money from
them ? No, I never will give two gold ducats."
"No straw and no fire for less than two gold ducats,"
replied the obstinate jailer.
"No corpse for less than two gold ducats," repeated the
unmoved brigand.
The hangman, after a brief pause, stamped his foot
angrily, saying: "Well, I've no time to waste with you.
I am wanted elsewhere." He drew from his waistcoat a
leather bag, which he opened slowly and reluctantly.
" There, cursed demon of Iceland, there are your two
ducats. Satan would never give you as much for your
soul as I do for your body, I am sure."
The brigand accepted the gold. The turnkey'instantly
held out his hand to take it.
" One instant, mate; first give me what I asked for."
The jailer went out, and soon returned with a bundle
of dry straw and a pan of live coals, which he placed
beside the prisoner.
" That's it," said the brigand, giving him the two du¬
cats ; " I'll make a warm night of it. Ope word more," he
HANS OF ICELAND.
325
added in an ominous tone. " Does not this prison adjoin
the barracks of the Munkholm musketeers ? "
" It does," said the jailer.
" And which way is the wind ? "
" From the east, I think."
" Good," said the brigand.
" What are you aiming at, comrade ? " asked the jailer.
"Oh, nothing," replied the brigand.
" Farewell, comrade, until to-morrow morning early."
" Yes, to-morrow," repeated the brigand.
And the noise of the heavy door, as it closed, prevented
the jailer and his companion from hearing the fierce, jeer¬
ing laughter which accompanied these words.
CHAPTER L.
Do you hope to end with another crime ?—Alex. Soumet.
Let us now take a look at the other cell in the military
prison adjoining the barracks, which holds our old ac¬
quaintance, Turiaf Musdoemon.
It may seem surprising that Musdoemon, crafty and
cowardly as he was, should so readily confess his crime
to the court which condemned him, and so generously
conceal the share of his ungrateful master. Chancellor
d'Ahlefeld, in it.
However, Musdoemon had not experienced a change of
heart. His noble frankness was perhaps the greatest
proof of cunning which he could possibly have given.
When he saw his infernal intrigue so unexpectedly ex¬
posed, beyond all hope of denial, he was for an instant
stunned and terrified. Conquering his alarm, his extreme
shrewdness soon showed him that as it was impossible to
destroy his chosen victims, he must bend all his energies
to saving himself. Two plans at once presented them¬
selves ; the first, to throw all the blame upon Count
d'Ahlefeld, who had so basely deserted him; the second,
to assume the whole burden of the crime himself. A
vulgar mind wo«ld have gi'asped at the former; IMiis-
dceiuon chose the latter. The chancellor was chancellor,
326
HANS OF ICELAND.
after all; besides, there was nothing in the papers which
directly implicated him, although they contained over¬
whelming evidence against his secretary. Then, his mas¬
ter had given him several meaning looks; this was enough
to confirm him in his purpose to suffer himself to be con¬
demned, confident that Count d'Ahlefeld would connive
at his escape, though less from gratitude for past service
than through his need for future aid.
He therefore paced his prison, which was dimly lighted
by a wretched lamp, never doubting that the door would
be thrown open during the night. He studied the archi¬
tecture of the old stone cell, built by kings Avhose very
names have almost vanished from the pages of history,
and was much surprised to find a wooden plank, which
echoed back his tread as if it covered some subterranean
vault. He also observed a huge iron ring cemented into
the arched roof, from which hung a fragment of rope.
Time passed; and he listened impatiently to the clock on
the tower as it slowly struck the hours, its mournful toll
resounding through the silence of the night.
At last there was a footfall outside his cell; his heart
beat high with hope. The massive bolt creaked ; the pad¬
lock dropped; and as the door opened, his face beamed
with delight. It was the same character in scarlet robes
whom we have just encountered in Hans of Iceland's
prison. He had a coil of hempen cord under his arm,
and was accompanied by four halberdiers in black, armed
with swords and partizans.
Musdoemon still wore the wig and gown of a magis¬
trate. His dress seemed to impress the man in red, who
bowed low as if accustomed to respect that garb, and said
with some hesitation: " Sir, is our business with your
worship ? "
"Yes, yes," hastily replied Musdoemon, confirmed in
his hope of escape by this polite address, and failing to
observe the bloody hue of the speaker's garments.
"Your name," said the man, his eyes fixed on a parch¬
ment which he had just unrolled, " is Turiaf Musdoemon, I
believe."
"Just so. Do you come from the chancellor, my
friend ? "
"Yes, your worship."
^HANS OF ICELAND.
327
" Do not fail, when you have done your errand, to as¬
sure his Grace of my undying gratitude."
The man in red looked at him in amazement. "Your
—gratitude!"
" Yes, to be sure, my friend; for it will probably be out
of my power to thank him in person very soon."
" Probably," dryly replied the man.
" And you must feel," added Musdoemon, " that I owe
him a deep debt of gratitude for such a service."
" By the cross of the repentant thief," cried the man,
< with a coarse laugh, " to hear you, one would think that
the chancellor was doing something quite unusual for
you!"
" Well, to be sure, it is no more than strict justice."
" Strict justice ! that is the word ; but you acknowledge
that it is justice. It is the first admission of the kind
that I ever heard in the six-and-twenty years that I have
followed my profession. Come, sir, we waste our time in
idle talk ; are you ready ? "
" I am," said the delighted Musdoemon, stepping to the
door.
"Wait; wait a minute," exclaimed the man in red,
stooping to lay his coil of rope on the floor.
Musdoemon paused.
" What are you going to do with all that rope ? "
"Your worship may well ask. I know that there is
much more than I shall need ; but when I began on this
affair I thought there would be a great many more pris¬
oners."
" Come, make haste ! " said Musdoemon.
"Your worship is in a wonderful hurry. Have you no
last favor to ask ? "
"None but the one I have already mentioned, that you
will thank his Grace for me. For God's sake, make haste ! "
added Musdoemon; " I long to get away from here. Have
we a long journey before us ? "
" A long journey ! " replied the man in red, straighten¬
ing himself, and measuring oft a few lengths of rope.
" The journey will not tire your worship much ; for we
can make it without leaving this room."
Musdoemojr shuddered.
" What do you mean ? "
328
HANS OF ICELANB.
" What do you mean yourself ? " asked the man.
" Oh, God!" said Musdcemon, turning pale, " who are
you ? "
" I am the hangman."
The poor wretch trembled like a dry leaf blo^vn by the
wind.
" Did you not come to help me to escape ? " he feebly
muttered.
The hangman laughed. "Yes, truly! to help you to
escape into the spirit-land, whence I warrant you will not
be brought back."
Musdcemon groveled on the floor. " Mercy ! Have
pity on me ! Mercy ! "
" I' faith," coldly observed the hangman, " 'tis the first
time I was ever asked such a thing. Do you take me for
the king ? "
The unfortunate man dragged himself on his knees,
trailing his gown in the dust, beating his head against the
floor, and clasping the hangman's feet with muffled groans
and broken sobs.
" Come, be quiet!" said the hangman. " I never before
saw a black gown kneel to a red jerkin." He kicked the
suppliant aside, adding: " Pray to God and the saints,
fellow; they will be more apt to hear you than I."
Musdcemon still knelt, his face buried in his hands,
weeping bitterly.
Meantime, the hangman, standing on tiptoe, passed his
rope through the ring in the ceiling ; he let it hang until
it reached the floor, then secured it by a double turn, and
made a slip-knot in the end.
" I am ready," said he, when these ominous preparations
were over; " are you ready to lay down your life ? "
" No !" said Musdcemon, springing up; "no; it cannot
be! There is some horrible mistake. Chancellor d'Ahle-
feld is not so base; I am too necessary to him. It is '
impossible that it was for me he sent you. Let me escape;
do not fear that the chancellor will be angry."
" Did you not say," replied the executioner, " that you
were Turiaf Musdcemon ? "
The prisoner hesitated for an instant, then said sud¬
denly; "No, no! my name is not Musdcemon; my name
is Turiaf Orugix."
HANS OF ICELAND.
329
" Orugix! " cried the executioner, « Orugix!"
He snatched off the periwig which concealed the pris¬
oner's face, and uttered an exclamation of surprise: " My
brother!"
" Your brother!" replied the prisoner, with a mixture
of shame and pleasure ; " can you be—"
« Nychol Orugix, hangman for the province of Thrond-
hjem, at your service, brother Turiaf."
The prisoner fell upon the executioner's ,neck, calling
him his brother, his beloved brother. This fraternal recog¬
nition would not have gratified any one who witnessed it.
Turiaf lavished countless caresses upon Nychol with a
forced and timid smile, while Nychol responded with a
gloomy and embarrassed look. It Avas like a tiger fond¬
ling an elephant, while the monster's ponderous foot is
already planted upon its panting chest.
" What happiness, brother Nychol! I am glad indeed to
see you."
" And I am sorry for you, brother Turiaf."
The prisoner pretended not to hear these words, and
went on in trembling tones : "You haA^e a wife and chil¬
dren, I suppose ? You must take me to see my gentle
sister, and let me kiss my dear nepheAVS."
" The Devil fly away with you!" muttered the hang¬
man.
" I will be a second father to them. Hark ye, brother, I
am powerful; I have great influence—"
The brother replied Avith a sinister expression; " I
know that you had ! At present, you had better be think¬
ing of that Avhich you have doubtless contrived to curry
with the saints."
All hope faded from the prisoner's face.
"Good God! Avhat does this mean, dear Nychol? I am
safe, since I have found you. Think that the same mother
bore us ; that we played together as children. Remember,
Nychol, you are my brother! "
" You never remembered it until now," replied the brutal
Nychol.
" No, I cannot die by my brother's hand!"
" It is your own fault, Turiaf. It was you who ruined
my career; wh® prevented me from becoming royal execu¬
tioner at Copenhagen; Avho caused me to be sent into
330
HAyS OF ICELAND.
this miserable region as a petty provincial hangman. If
you had not been a bad brother, you would have no cause
to complain of that which distresses you so much now. I
should not be in Throndhjem, and some one else would
have to finish your business. Now, enough, brother, you
must die."
Death is hideous to the Avicked for the same reason
that it is beautiful to tlie good; both must put off their
humanity, but the just man is delivered from his body
as from a prison, while the wicked man is torn from it
as from a jail. At the last moment hell yawns before
the sinful soul which has dreamed of annihilation. It
knocks anxiously at the dark portals of death; and it is
not annihilation that answers.
The prisoner rolled upon the floor and wrung his hands,
with moan more heartrending than the everlasting wail
of the damned.
" God have mercy! Holy angels in heaven, if you
exist, have pity upon me ! Nychol, brother Nychol, in
our mother's name, oh, let me live!
The hangman held out his warrant.
" I cannot; the order is peremptory."
" That warrant is not for me," stammered the despair¬
ing prisoner; "it is for one IMusdcemon. That is not I;
I am Turiaf Orugix."
" You jest," said Nychol, shrugging his shoulders. "I
knoAV perfectly well that it is meant for you. Besides,"
he added roughly, " yesterday you would not have been
Turiaf Orugix to your brother; to-day he can only look
upon you as Turiaf iMusdcKinon."
" Brother, brother ! " groaned the wretch, " only wait
until to-morrow! It is impossible-that the chancellor,
could have given the order for my death ; it is some fright¬
ful mistake. Count d'Alilefeld loves me dearly. Dear
Nychol, I implore you, spare my life! I shall soon be re¬
stored to favor, and I Avill do whatever you may ask—"
"You can do me but one service, Turiaf," broke in the
hangman. " I have lost two executions already upon
which I counted the most, those of ex-chancellor Sehu-
macker and the viceroy's son. I am ahvays unlucky.
You and Hans of Iceland are all that are left. Your
execution, being secret and by night, is worth at least
nA\S OF ICELAXD.
331
twelve gold ducats to iiie. Let me hang you peaceably,
that is the only favor I ask of you."
" Oh, God! " sighed the prisoner.
" It will be the first and last, in good sooth; but, in
return, I promise that you shall not suffer. I will hang
you like a brother ; submit to your fate."
Musdoemon sprang to his feet; his nostrils were dis¬
tended with rage; his livid lips quivered; his teeth
chattered ; his mouth foamed with despair.
" Satan ! I saved that d'Ahlefeld; I have embraced
my brother,—and they murder me! And I must die this
very night in a dark dungeon, where none can hear my
curses; where I may not cry out against them from one
end of the kingdom to the other ; where I may not tear
asunder the veil that hides their crimes! Was it for such
a death that I have stained my entire life? Wretch!"
he added, turning to his brother, " would you become a
fratricide ? "
" I am the executioner," answered the phlegmatic
Nychol.
"No!" exclaimed the prisoner; and he flung himself
headlong upon the executioner, his eyes darting flame and
streaming with tears, like those of a bull at bay,—" no, I
will not die thus meekly; I have not lived like a poison¬
ous serpent to die like a paltry worm trampled under
foot! I will leave my life in my last sting; but it shall
be mortal."
So saying, he grappled like a bitter foe with him whom
he had just embraced as a brother ; the fulsome, flattering
Musdoemon now showed his true spirit. Despair stirred
up the foul dregs of his soul; and after crawling prostrate
like a tiger, like a tiger he sprang upon his enemy. It
would have been hard to decide which of th^ two
brothers was the most appalling, as they struggled, one
with the brute ferocity of a wild beast, the other with
the artful fury of a demon.
But the four halberdier.s, hitherto passive spectators,
did not remain motionless. They lent their aid to the
executioner; and soon Musdoemon, whose rage was his
only strength, was forced to quit his hold. lie dashed
himself against the wall, uttering inarticulate yells, and
blunting his flails upon the stone.
332
HANS OF ICELAXD.
" To die ! Devils, in hell, to die ! My shrieks unheard
outside this roof, my arms powerless to tear down these
walls I"
He was seized, but offered no resistance; his useless
efforts had exhausted him. He was stripped of his gown,
and bound ; at this moment a sealed packet fell from his
bosom.
" What is that ? " said the hangman.
An infernal light gleamed in the prisoner's haggard
eyes. He muttered : " How could I forget that ? Look
here, brother Nychol," he added in an almost friendly
tone; " these papers belong to the lord chancellor. Prom¬
ise to give them to him, and you may do what you mil
with me."
" Since you are quiet now, I promise to grant your last
wish, although you have been a bad brother to me. I
will see that the chancellor has the papers, on the honor
of an Orugix."
" Ask leave to hand them to him yourself," replied the
prisoner, smiling at the executioner, who, from his nature,
had little understanding of smiles. " The pleasure which
they will afford his Grace may lead him to confer some
favor on you.'l
" Really, brother ? " said Orugix. " Thank you! Per¬
haps he will make me e;cecutioner royal after all, eh ?
Well, let us part good friends! I forgive you all the
scratches which you gave me ; forgive me for the hempen
collar which I must give you."
" The chancellor promised me a very different sort of
collar," said Musdoemon.
Then the halberdiers led him, bound, into the middle
of the cell; the hangman placed the fatal noose round
his neck.
" Are you ready, Turiaf ? "
" One moment! one moment!" said the prisoner,.whose
terror had revived; "for mercy's sake,,brother, do not
pull the rope until I tell you to do so ! "
" I do not need to pull it," answered the hangman.
A moment later he repeated his question. " Are you
ready ?"
" One moment more! Alas! must I die ? "
" Turiaf, I have no time to waste."
HANS OF ICELAND.
333
So saying, Orugix signed to the halberdiers to stand
away from the prisoner.
" One word more, brother; do not forget to give the
packet to Count d'Ahlefeld."
" Never fear," replied Nychol He added for the third
time : " Come, are you ready ? "
The unfortunate man opened his lips, perhaps to plead
for another brief delay, when the impatient hangman
stooped and turned a brass button projecting from the
floor.
The plank gave way beneath the victim; the poor
wretch disappeared through a square trap-door with a
dull twang from the rope, which was stretched suddenly
and vibrated fearfully with the dying man's final convul¬
sions.
Nothing was seen but the rope swinging to and fro in
the dark opening, through which came a cool breeze and
a sound as of running water.
The halberdiers themselves shrank back, horror-
stricken. The hangman approached the abyss, seized
the rope, which still vibrated, and SAVung himself into
the hole, pressing both feet against his victim's shoulders;
the fatal rope stretched to its utmost with a creak, and
stood still. A stified sob rose from the trap.
«All is over," said the hangman, climbing back into
the cell. " Farewell, brother ! "
He drew a cutlass from his belt. " Go feed the fishes
in the fjord. Your body to the waves; your soul to the
flames! "
With these words, he cut the taut rope. The frag¬
ment still fastened to the iron ring lashed the ceiling
while the deep, dark waters splashed high as the body
fell, then swept on their underground course.
The hangman closed the trap as he had opened it; as
he rose, he saw that the room was full of smoke.
" What is all this ? " he asked the halberdiers. " Where
does this smoke come from ? "
They knew no better than he. In surprise, thej'^ opened
the door; the corridors were also filled with thick and
nauseating smoke. A secret outlet led them, greatly ter¬
rified, to the square courtyard, where a fearful sight met
their gaze.
3:54
HANS OF ICELAND.
A vast conflagration, fanned by a violent east wind,
was consuming the military prison and the barracks.
The flames, driven in eddying whirls, climbed stone walls,
crowned burning roofs, leaped from gaping window-
frames ; and the black towers of Munkholm now shone
in a red and ominous light, now vanished in a dense
cloud of smoke.
A turnkey, who was escaping by the courtyard, told
them hastily that the lire had broken out in the monster's
cell during the sleep of Hans of Iceland's keepers, he
having been imprudently allowed to have a fire and
- straw.
" How unlucky I am ! " cried Orugix, when he heard
this story; " now I suppose Hans of Iceland has slipped
through my hands too. The rascal must have been
burned; and I shan't even get his body, for which I paid
two ducats!"
Meantime, the unfortunate Munkholm musketeers,
roused suddenly from their sleep by imminent death,
crowded toward the door only to find it closely barred.
Their shrieks of anguish and despair were heard outside ;
they stood at the blazing ^vindows, wringing their hands,
or dashed themselves madly upon the flagging of the
court, escaping one death to meet another. The victori¬
ous flames devoured the entire structure before the rest
of the garrison could come to the rescue.
All help was vain. Luckily, the building stood by it¬
self. The door was broken in with hatchets, but it was
too late; for as "it opened, the burning roof and floors
gave way, and fell upon the unfortunate men with a loud
crash.
The entire building disappeared in a whirlwind of fiery
, dust and burning smoke, which stifled the faint moans of
the expiring men.
Next morning nothing was left in theu^ourtyard but
four high walls, black and smoking, around a horrid mass
of smoldering ruins still devouring each other like wild
beasts in a circus.
When the pile had cooled, it was searched. Beneath
a heap of stones and iron beams, twisted" out of shape by
the flames, was found a mass of whitened bones and dis¬
figured corpses ; with some thirty soldiers, most of whom
HANS OF ICELAND.
335
were crippled; this was all that remained of the crack
regiment of Munkholm.
When the site of the prison was searched, and they
reached the fatal cell where the fire had broken out, and
where Hans of Iceland had been imprisoned, they found
the remains of a human body close beside an iron pan
and a heap of broken chains. It was curious that among
these ashes there were two skulls, although there was but
one skeleton.
CHAPTER LI.
Saladin. Bravo, Ibrahim! you are indeed the messenger of
good fortune ; I thank you for your joyful tidings.
The Mameluke. Weil, is that all ?
Saladin. What did you expect ?
The Mameluke. Nothing more for the messenger of good
fortune.
Lessinq: Nathan the Wise.
Pale and worn. Count d'Ahlefeld strode up and down
his apartment; in his hand he crushed a bundle of letters
which he had -just read, while he stamped his foot on the
smooth marble floor and the gold-fringed rugs.
At the other end of the room, in an attitude of deep re¬
spect, stood Nychol Orugix in his infamous scarlet dress,
felt'hat in hand.
"You have done me good service, Musdoemon," hissed
the chancellor.
The hangman looked up timidly: " Is your Grace
pleased ? "
" What do you want here ? " said the chancellor, turn¬
ing upon him suddenly.
The hangman, proud that he had won a glance from
the chancellor, smiled hopefully.
" What do I want, your' Grace ? The post of execu¬
tioner at Copenhagen, if your Grace will deign to bestow
so great a favor on me in return for the gpod news I have
brought you." ,
The chancellor called to the two halberdiers on guard
at his doo»: "Seize this rascal; he annoys me by his
impudence."
336
BANS OF ICELAND.
The guards led away the amazed and confounded
Nyehol, who ventured one word more : " My lord—"
"You are no longer hangman for the province of
Throndhjem; I deprive you of your office !" cried the
chancellor, slamming the door.
The chancellor returned to his letters, angrily read and
re-read them, maddened by his dishonor; for these were
the letters which once passed between the countess and
Musdcemon. This was Elphega's handwriting. He found
that Ulrica was not his daughter; that, it might be, the
Frederic whom he mourned was not his son. The un-
happy count was punished through that same pride
which had caused all his crimes. He cared not now if
vengeance evaded him ; all his ambitious dreams van¬
ished,—his past was blasted, his future dead. He had
striven to destroy his enemies; he had only succeeded
in losing his own reputation, his adviser, and even his
marital and paternal rights.
But he must see once more the wretched woman who
had betrayed him. He hastily crossed the spacious apart¬
ment, shaking the letters in his hand as if they were a
thunderbolt. He threw open the door of Elphega's room ;
he entered—
The guilty wife had just unexpectedly learned from
Colonel Voethaiin of her son Frederic's fearful death.
The poor mother was insane.
CONCLUSION.
What I said in jest, you took seriously.—Old Spanish Romance
{King Alfonso to Bernard).
For a fortnight the events which we have just related
formed the sole topic of conversation in the town and
province of Throndhjem, judged from the various stand¬
points of the various speakers. The people of the town,
who had waited in vain to see seven successive executions,
began to despair of ever having that pleasure ; and pur¬
blind old women declared that, on the night of the lamen¬
table fire at the barracks, they had seen Hans of Iceland
HANS OF ICELAND. 307
fly up in the flames, laughing amid the blaze, as he clashed
the burning roof of the building upon the Munkholm
musketeers; when, after an absence which to his Ethel
seemed an age, Ordener returned to the Lion of Schleswig
tower, accompanied by General Levin de Knud and Chap¬
lain Athanasius Munder.
Schumacker was walking in the garden, leaning on his
daughter. The young couple found it hard not to rush
into each other's arms; but they were forced to be con¬
tent with a look. Schumacker affectionately grasped
Ordener's hand, and greeted the two strangers in a friendly
manner.
"Young man," said the aged captive, "may Heaven
bless your return !"
" Sir," replied Ordener, " I have just arrived. Having
seen mj"^ father at Bergen, I would now embrace my father
at Munkholm."
" What do you mean ?" asked the old man, in great
surprise.
" That you must give me your daughter, noble sir."
" My daughter !" exclaimed the prisoner, turning to the
confused and blushing Ethel.
" Yes, my lord, I love your Ethel. I have devoted my
life to her; she is mine."
Schumacher's face clouded ; "You are a brave and noble
youth, my son. Although your father has done me much
harm, I forgive him for your sake ; and I should be glad
to sanction this marriage. But there is an obstacle—"
" What is it, sir ? " asked Ordener, anxiously.
"You love my daughter; hut are you sure that she
loves you ? "
The two lovers cast at each other a rapid glance of
mute amazement.
" Yes," continued the father. "I am sorry; for I love
you, and would gladly call you son. But my daughter
would never consent. She has recently confessed her
aversion for you, and since your departure she is silent
whenever I speak of you, and seems to avoid all thought
of you as if you were odious to her. You must give up
your love for her, Ordener. Never fear; love may be
cured as well as hatred."
« My lord*! " exclaimed the astonished Ordener.
22
338
TIAXS OF ICELAND.
" Fatlier ! " cried Ethel, clasping her hands.
"Do not be alarmed, my daughter," interrupted the old
man; " I approve of this marriage, but you do not. I will
never force your inclinations, Ethel. This last fortnight
has wrought a great change in me; you are free to choose
for yourself."
Athanasius Munder smiled. " She is not," he said.
" You are mistaken, dear father," added Ethel, taking
courage: " I do not hate Ordener."
" What!" cried her father.
" I am—" resumed Ethel. She hesitated.
Ordener knelt at the old man's feet.
" She is my wife, father ! Forgive me as my other
father has forgiven me, and bless your children."
Schumacher, surprised in his turn, blessed the young
couple.
" I have cursed so many people in my lifetime," said he,
" that I now seize every opportunity for blessing. But
explain."
All was made clear to him. lie wept with emotion,
gratitude, and love.
«I thought myself wise; I am old, and I did not under¬
stand the heart of a young girl! "
" And so I am Mrs. Ordener Guldenlew! " said Ethel,
with childlike delight.
« Ordener Guldenlew," rejoined old Schumacker, " you
are a better man than I; for in the day of my prosperity
I would never have stooped to wed the penniless and
disgraced daughter of an unfortunate prisoner."
The general took the old man's hand, and offered him
a roll of parchment, saying : " Do not speak thus. Count.
Here are your titles, which the king long since sent you
by Dispolsen ; his Majesty now adds a free pardon.
Such is the dowry of your daughter. Countess Dan-
neskiold."
" Pardon! freedom ! " repeated the enraptured Ethel.
" Countess Danneskiold ! " added her father.
" Yes, Count," continued the general; " your honors and
estates are restored."
" To whom do I owe all this ? " asked the happy Schu¬
macker.
" To General Levin de Knud," answered Ordener,
HANS OF ICELAND.
339
" Levin de Knud! Did I not tell you, Governor, that
Levin de Knud was the best of men ? But why did he
not bring me the good news himself ? Where is he ? "
Ordener pointed in surprise to the smiling, weeping,
general: " Here ! "
The recognition of the two who had been comrades in
the days of their youth and power Avas a touching one.
Schumacker's heart sAvelled. His acquaintance with Hans
had destroyed his liatred of men ; his acquaintance Avith
Ordener and Levin taught him to love them.
The gloomy AA^edding in the cell Avas soon celebrated by
brilliant festiAdties. Life smiled upon the young couple
Avho had smiled at death. Count d'Ahlefeld saw that
they were happy ; this was his most cruel punishment.
Athanasius Munder shared their joy. He obtained the
pardon of his twelve convicts, and Ordener added that of
his former companions in misfortune, Jonas and Norbith,
who returned, free and happy, to inform the appeased
miners that the king released them from the protectorate.
Schumacker did not long enjoy the union of Ethel and
Ordener. Liberty and happiness were too much for him ;
he went to enjoy a different happiness and a different
freedom. He died that same year, 1699, his children ac¬
cepting this bloAV as a Avarning that there is no perfect
bliss in this world. He Avas buried in Veer Church, upon
an estate in Jutland belonging to his son-in-law, and his
tomb preserves all the titles of Avhich captivity deprived
him. From the marriage of Ordener and Ethel sprang
the race of the counts of Danneskiold.
3-10
HANS OF ICELAND.
BUG-JARGAL.
PEOLOGIJE.
"When it came to the turn of Captain Leopold d'Au-
verney, he gazed around him with surprise, and hurrietlly
assured his comrades that he did not remember, any inci¬
dent in his life that was worthy of repetition.
" But, Captain d'Auverney," objected Lieutenant Henri,
" you have—at least report says so—traveled much, and
seen a good deal of the world ; have you not been to the
Antilles, to Africa, and to Italy ? and above all, you have
been in Spain. But see, here is your lame dog come back
again! "
D'Auverney started, let fall the cigar that he was
smoking, and turned quickly to the tent door, at which
an enormous dog appeared, limping towards him.
In another instant the dog was licking his feet, wag¬
ging his tail, whining, and gamboling as well as he was
able; and by every means testifying his delight at finding
his master ; and at last, as if he felt that he had done all
that could be required of a dog, he curled himself up
peaceably before his master's seat.
Captain d'Auverney was much moved, but he strove to
conceal his feelings, and mechanically caressed the dog
with one hand, while with the other he played with the
chin-strap of his shako, murmuring from time to time,
" So here you are once again. Bask, here you are ! " Then,
as if suddenly recollecting himself, he exclaimed aloud,
" But who has brought him back ? "
" By your leave. Captain—"
For the last few seconds Sergeant Thaddeus had been
standing at the door of the tent, the curtain of which he
was holding baek with his left hand, while his right was
tlirust into the bosom of his greatcoat. Tears were in
his eyes as he contemplated the meeting of the dog and
BUG-JABGAL.
341
his master, and at last, unable to keep silence any longer,
he risked the words, " By your leave. Captain."
D'Auverney raised his eyes.
" Why, it is you, Thaddeus ? and how the deuce have
you been able—eh ? Poor dog, poor Bask! I thought
that you were in the English camp. Where did you find
him. Sergeant?"
" Thanks be to Heaven, Captain, you see me as happy
as your little nephew used to be when you let him off his
Latin lesson."
" But tell me, where did you find him ? "
" I did not find him. Captain; I went to look for him." ^
Captain d'Auverney rose, and offered his hand to the
sergeant, but the latter still kept his in the bosom of his
coat.
"Well, you see, it was—at least. Captain, since poor
Rask was lost, I noticed that you were like a man beside
himself; so when I saw that he did not come to me in the
evening, according to his custom, for his share of my
ration bread,—which made old Thaddeus weep like a
child ; I, who before that had only wept twice in my life,
the first time when—yes, the day when—" and the ser¬
geant cast a sad look upon his captain. " Well, the second
was when that scamp Balthazar, the corporal of the
Seventh half brigade, persuaded me to peel a bunch of
onions."
"It seems to me, Thaddeus," cried Henri, with a
laugh, " that you avoid telling us what was the first oc¬
casion upon which you shed tears."
" It was doubtless, old comrade," said the captain
kindly, as he patted Rask's head, " when you answered
the roll-call as Tour d'Auvergne, the first grenadier of
France."
" No, no. Captain ; if Sergeant Thaddeus wept, it was
when he gave the order to fire on Bug-Jargal, otherwise
called Pierrot."
A cloud gathered on the countenance of D'Auverney,
then he again endeavored to clasp the sergeant's hand ;
but in spite of the honor that was attempted to be con¬
ferred on him, the old man still kept his hand hidden
under his coat. «
"Yes, Captain," continued Thaddeus, drawing back a
342
HANS OF ICELAND.
step or two, while D'Auverney fixed his eyes upon him
with a strange and sorrowful expression,—" yes, I wept
for him that day, and he well deserved it. He was black,
it is true, but gunpowder is black also; and—and—"
The good sergeant would fain have followed out his
strange comparison, for there was evidently something
in the idea that pleased him; but he utterly failed to
put his thoughts into words, and after having attacked
his idea on every side, as a general would a fortified
place, and failed, he raised the siege, and without notic¬
ing the smiles of his officers, he continued :
" Tell me. Captain, do you recollect how that poor
negro arrived all out of breath, at the moment when his
ten comrades were waiting on the spot? We had had to
tie them though. It was I who commanded the party ;
and with his own hands he untied them, and took their
place, although they did all that they could to dissuade
him ; but he was inflexible. Ah, what a man he was;
you might as well have tried to move Gibraltar! And
then. Captain, he drew himself up as if he were going to
enter a ball-room, and this dog, who knew well enough
what was coming, flew at my throat—"
" Generally, Thaddeus, at this point of your story you
pat Rask," interrupted the captain; " see how he looks at
you."
"You are right, sir," replied Thaddeus, with an air of
embarrassment; " he does look at me, poor fellow; but
the old woman Malajuda told me it was unlucky to pat a
dog with the left hand, and—"
" And why not with your right, pray ? " asked D'Au¬
verney, for the first time noticing the sergeant's pallor,
and the hand reposing in his bosom.
The sergeant's discomfort appeared to increase. " By
your leave. Captain, it is because—well, you have got a
lame dog, and now there is a chance of your having a
one-handed sergeant."
" A one-handed sergeant! What do you mean ? Let
me see your arm. One hand ! Great heavens ! "
D'Auverney trembled, as the sergeant slowly with¬
drew his hand from his bosom, and showed it enveloped
in a blood-stained handkerchief.
" This is terrible," exclaimed D'Auverney, carefully
BUG-JABGAL.
343
undoing the bandage. " But tell me, old comrade, how
this happened."
" As for that, the thing is simple enough. I told you
how I had noticed your grief since those confounded
English had taken away your dog,—poor Bask, Bug's
dog. 1 made up my mind to-day to bring him back,
even if it cost me my life, so that you might eat a good
supper. After having told Mathelet, your bdt man, to
get out and brush your full-dress uniform, as we are to
go into action to-morrow, I crept quietly out of camp,
inned only with my saber, and crouched under the
Hedges until I neared the English camp. I had not
passed the first trench when I saw a whole crowd of red
soldiers. I crept on quietly to see what they were doing,
and in the midst of them I perceived Bask tied to a tree;
while two of the milords, stripped to here, were knocking
each other about with their fists, until their bones
sounded like the big drum of the regiment. They were
fighting for your dog. But when Bask caught sight of
me, he gave such a bound that the rope broke, and in the
twinkling of an eye the rogue was after me. I did not
stop to explain, but off I ran, with all the English at my
heels. A regular hail of balls whistled past my ears.
Bask barked, but they could not hear him for their shouts
of ' French dog ! French dog !' just as if Bask was not of
the pure St. Domingo breed. In spite of all I crushed
through the thicket, and had almost got clean away when
two redcoats confronted me. My saber accounted for
one, and would have rid me of the other had his pistol
not unluckily had a bullet in it. My right arm suffered;
but ' French dog' leapt at his throat, as if he were an
old acquaintance. Down fell the Englishman, for the
embrace was so tight that he was strangled in a moment,
—and here tve both are. My only regret is that I did
not get my wound in to-morrow's battle."
" Thaddeus, Thaddeus ! " exclaimed the captain in
tones of reproach; " were you mad enough to expose
your life thus for a dog ? "
" It was not for a dog, it was for Bask."
D'Auverney's face softened as Thaddeus added : " For
Bask, for Bugle dog."
" Enough, enough, old comrade!" cried the captain,
3i4
HANS OF ICELAND.
dashing his hand across his eyes; " come, lean on me,
and I will lead you to the hospital."
Thaddeus essayed to decline the honor, but in vain;
and as they left the tent the dog got up and followed
them.
This little drama had excited the curiosity of the spec¬
tators to the highest degree. Captain Leopold d'Auver-
ney was one of those men who, in whatever position
the chances of nature and society may place them, al¬
ways inspire a mingled feeling of interest and respect.
At the first glimpse there was nothing striking in him,
his manner was reserved, and his look cold. The trop¬
ical sun, though it had browned his cheek, had not im¬
parted to him that vivacity of speech and gesture which
among the Creoles is united to an easy carelessness of
demeanor, in itself full of charm.
D'Auverney spoke little, listened less, but showed
himself ready to act at any moment. Always the first
in the saddle, and the last to return to camp, he seemed
to seek a refuge from his thoughts in bodily fatigue.
These thoughts, which had marked his brow with many
a premature wrinkle, were not of the kind that you can
get rid of by confiding them to a friend ; nor could they
be discussed in idle conversation. Leopold d'Auverney,
whose body the hardships of war could not subdue,
seemed to experience a sense of insurmountable fatigue
in what is termed the conflict of the feelings. lie avoided
argument as much as he sought warfare. If at any
time he allowed himself to be drawn into a discussion,
he would utter a few words full of common-sense and
reason, and then at the moment of triumph over his an¬
tagonist he would stop short, and muttering, "What
good is it ? " would saunter off to the commanding offi¬
cer to glean what information he could regarding the
enemy's movements. His comrades forgave his cold,
reserved, and silent habits, because upon every occasion
they had found him kind, gentle, and benevolent. He
had saved many a life at the risk of his own, and they
well knew that though his mouth was rarely opened, yet
his purse was never closed when a comrade had need of
his assistance.
D'Auverney was young; many would have guessed
BUG-JARGAL.
345
him at thirty years of age, but they would have been
wrong, for he was some years under it. Although he had
for a long period fought in the ranks of the Republican
army, yet all were in ignorance of his former life. The
only one to whom he seemed ever to open his heart was
Sergeant Thaddeus, who had joined the regiment with
him, and would at times speak vaguely of sad events in
his early life. It was known that D'Auverney had under¬
gone great misfortunes in America; that he had been mar¬
ried in St. Domingo, and that his wife and all his family
had perished in those terrible massacres which had marked
the Republican invasion of that magnificent colony. At
the time of which we write, misfortunes of this kind were
so general that any one could sympathize with, and feel
pity for, such suft'erers.
D'Auverney, therefore, was pitied less for his misfor¬
tunes than for the manner in which they had been
brought about. Beneath his icy mask of indifference the
traces of the incurably wounded spirit could be at times
perceived. When he went into action his calmness re¬
turned, and in the fight he behaved as if he sought for
the rank of general; while after victory he was as gentle
and unassuming as if the position of a private soldier
would have satisfied his ambition. His comrades, seeing
him thus despise honor and promotion, could not under¬
stand what it was that lighted up his countenance with a
ray of hope when the action commenced, and they did not
for a moment divine that the prize D'Auverney was striv¬
ing to gain was simply—death.
The Representatives of the People, in one of their mis¬
sions to the army, had appointed him a Chief of Brigade
on the field of battle ; but he had declined the honor upon
learning that it would remove him from his old comrade
Sergeant Thaddeus. Some days afterwards, having re¬
turned from a dangerous expedition safe and sound, con¬
trary to the general expectation and his own hopes, he was
heard to regret the rank that he had refused. " For,"
said he, " since the enemy's guns always spare me, per¬
haps the guillotine, which ever strikes down those it has
raised, would in time have claimed me."
Such was the* character of the man upon whom the
convex'sation turned as soon as he had left the tent.
346
HANS OF ICELAND.
" I would wager," cried Lieutenant Henri, wiping a
splash of mud off his boot which the dog had left as he
passed him,—" I would wager that the captain would not
exchange the broken paw of his dog for the ten baskets
of Madeii'a that we caught a glimpse of in the general's
wagon."
" Rah! " cried Paschal the aide-de-camp., " that would
be a bad bargain: the baskets are empty by now, and
thirty empty bottles -\\'ould be a poor price for a dog's
paw; why, you might make a good bell-handle out of it."
They all laughed at the grave manner in which Paschal
pronounced these words, with the exception of a young
officer of Hussars named Alfred, who remarked,—
"I do not see any subject for chaff in this matter,
gentlemen. This sergeant and dog, who are always at
D'Auverney's heels ever since I have known him, seem
to me more the objects of sympathy than raillery, and
interest me greatly."
Paschal, annoyed that his wit had missed fire, inter¬
rupted him: " It certainly is a most sentimental scene ; a
lost dog found, and a broken arm—"
"Captain Paschal," said Henri, throwing an empty
bottle outside the tent, " you are wrong; this Bug, other¬
wise called Pierrot, excites my curiosity greatly."
At this moment D'Auverney returned, and sat doAvn
without uttering a word. His manner was still sad, but
his face was more calm; he seemed not to have heard
what was said. Ra.sk, who had followed him, lay down at
his feet, but kept a watchful eye on his master's comrades.
" Pass your glass, Captain D'Auverney, and taste this."
"Oh, thank you," replied the captain, evidently im¬
agining that he was answering a question, " the wound is
not dangerous; there is no bone broken."
The respect which all felt for D'Auverney prevented a
burst of laughter at this reply.
"Since your mind is at rest regarding Thaddeus's
wound," said Henri, "and, as you may remember, we en¬
tered into an agreement to pass away the hours of biv¬
ouac by relating to one another our adventures, will you
carry out your promise by telling us the history of your
lame dog, and of Bug,—otherwise called Pierrot, that
regular (b.bvaltar of a man?"
nrn-jAiiGAL.
U7
To this request, whieh was put in a semi-jocular tone,
D'Auveruey at last yielded.
" I will do what you ask, gentlemen," said he; " but
you must only expect a very simple tale, in whieh I play
an extremely second-rate part. If the affection that
exists between Tbaddeus, Rask, and myself leads you
to expect anything very wonderful, I fear that you will
be greatly disappointed. However, I will begin."
For a moment D'Auverney relapsed into thought, as
though he wished to recall past events which had long
since been replaced in his memory by the acts of his later
years; but at last, in a low voice and with frequent
pauses, he began his tale.
CHAPTER I.
I WAS born in France, but at an early age I was sent to
St. Domingo, to the care of an uncle, to whose daughter
it had been arranged between our parents that I was to
be married. My uncle was one of the wealthiest colonists,
and possessed a magnificent house and extensive plan¬
tations in the Plains of Acul, near Fort Galifet. The
position of the estate, which no doubt you wonder at my
describing so minutely, was one of the causes of all our
disasters, and the eventual total ruin of our whole family.
Eight hundred negro slaves cultivated the enormous
domains of my uncle. Sad as the position of a slave is,
my uncle's hardness of heart added much to the unhap-
piness of those who had the misfortune to be his prop¬
erty. My uncle was one of the happily small number of
planters from whom despotic power had taken away the
gentler feelings of humanity. He was accustomed to see
his most trifling command unhesitatingly obeyed, and the
slightest delay on the part of his slaves in carrying it out
Avas punished with the harshest severity ; while the in¬
tercession either of my cousin or of myself too often
merely led to an increase of the punishment, and Ave Avere
only too often obliged to rest satisfied by secretly assuag¬
ing the injuries which Ave were powerless to prevent.
Among the multitude of his slaves, one only had found
faA'or in my uncle's sight; this Avas a half-caste Spanish
us
HANS OF ICELAyD.
dwarf, who had been given him by Lord EflSnghani, the
Governor of Jamaica. My uncle, who had for many years
resided in Brazil, and had adopted the luxurious habits
of the Portuguese, loved to surround himself with an
establishment that was in keeping with his wealth. In
order that nothing should be wanting, he had made the
slave presented to him by Lord Effingham his fool, in
imitation of the feudal lords who had jesters attached to
their households. I must say that the slave amply ful¬
filled all the required conditions.
Habibrah, for that was the half-caste's name, was one
of those strangely formed, or rather deformed, beings
who would be looked upon as monsters if their very
hideousness did not cause a laugh. This ill-featured
dwarf was short and fat, and moved with wondrous ac¬
tivity upon a pair of slender limbs, which, when he sat
down, bent under him like the legs of a spider. His enor¬
mous head, covered with a mass of red curly wool, was
stuck between his shoulders, while his ears were so large
that Habibrah's comrades were in the habit of saying that
he used them to wipe his eyes when he wept. On his face
there was always a grin, which was continually changing
its character, and which caused his ugliness to be of an
ever-varying description. My uncle was fond of him,
because of his extreme hideousness and his inextinguishable
gaiety. Habibrah was his only favorite, and led a life
of ease, while the other slaves were overwhelmed with
work. The sole duties of the jester were to carry a large
fan, made of the feathers of the bird of paradise, to keep
away the sandflies and the mosquitoes from his master.
At mealtimes he sat upon a reed mat at his master's feet,
who fed him with tit-bits from his own plate. Habibrah
appeared to appreciate all these acts of kindness, and at
the slightest sign from my uncle he would run to him
with the agility of a monkey and the docility of a dog.
I had imbibed a prejudice against my uncle's favorite
slave. There was something crawling in his servility;
for though outdoor slavery does not dishonor, domestic
service too often debases. I felt a sentiment of pity for
those slaves who toiled in the scorching sun, with scarcely
a vestige of clothing to hide their chains; but I despised
this idle serf, with his garments ornamented with gold
BUn-.TATtGAL.
349
lace and tidorned with bells. Besides the dwarf never
made use of his influence with his master to ameliorate
the condition of his fellow-sufierers ; on the contrary, I
heard him once, when he thought that he and his master
were alone, urge him to increase his severity towards his
ill-fated comrades. The other slaves, however, did not
appear to look upon him with any feelings of anger or
rancor, but treated him with a timid kind of respect;
and when, dressed in all the splendor of laced garments
and a tall pointed cap ornamented with bells, and quaint
symbols traced upon it in red ink, he walked past their
huts, I have heard them murmur in accents of awe, " He
is an obi" (sorcerer).
These details, to which I now draw your attention, oc¬
cupied my mind but little then. I had given myself up
entirely to the emotion of a pure love, in which nothing
else could mingle,—a love which was returned me with
passion by the girl to whom I was betrothed,—and I gave
little heed to anything that was not Marie. Accustomed
from youth to look upon her as the future companion of
my life, there was a curious mixture of the love of a
brother for a sister, mingled with the passionate adora¬
tion of a betrothed lover.
Few men have spent their earlier years more happily
than I have done, or have felt their souls expand into
life in the midst of a delicious climate and all the luxu¬
ries which wealth could procure, with perfect happiness
in the present and the brightest hopes for the future.
No man, as I said before, could have spent his earlier
vears more happily—
[D'Auverney paused for a moment, as if these thoughts
of by-gone happiness had stifled his voice, and then
added:]
And no one could have passed his later ones in more
profound misery and affliction.
CHAPTER II.
In the midst of these blind illusions and hopes, my
twentieth birthday approached. It was now the month
of August, 1794, and my uncle had decided that this
350
HANS OF ICELAND.
should be the date of my marriage with Marie. You can
well understand that the thoughts of happiness, now so
near, absorbed all my faculties, and how little notice I
took of the political crisis which was then felt through¬
out the colony. I will not, therefore, speak of the Count
de Pernier, or of M. de Blanchelande, nor of the tragical
death of tlie unfortunate Colonel de Marchiste; nor will
I attempt to describe the jealousies of the Provincial
House of Assembly of the North, and the Colonial Assem¬
bly (which afterwards called itself the General Assemblj^
declaring that the word " Colonial " had a ring of slavery
in it). For my own part, I sided with neither; but if I
did espouse any cause, it was in favor of Cap, near which
town my home was situate, in opposition to Port au
Prince.
Only once did I mix myself up in the question of the
day. It was on the occasion of the disastrous decree of
the 15th of May, 1791, by which the National Assembly
of France admitted free men of color to enjoy the same
political privileges as the whites. At a ball given by the
Governor of Caj), many of the younger colonists spoke in
impassioned terms of this law, which leveled so cruel a
blow at the instincts of supremacy assumed by the whites,
with perhaps too little foundation. I had, as yet, taken
no part in the conversation, when I saw approaching the
group a wealthy planter, whose doubtful descent caused
him to be received merely upon sufferance by the white
society. I stepped in front of him, and in a haughty voice
I exclaimed, " Pass on, sir! pass on! or you may hear
words which would certainly be disagreeable to those Avith
mixed blood in their veins." He was so enraged at this
insinuation that he challenged me. AYe fought, and each
was slightly wounded. I confess that I was in the wrong
to have thus provoked him, and it is probable that I should
not have done so on a mere question of color; but I had
for some time past noticed that he had had the audacity
to pay certain attentions to my cousin, and had danced
with her the very night upon which I had insulted him.
However, as time went on, and the date so ardently
desired approached, I was a perfect stranger to the state
of political ferment in Avhich those around me lived ; and
I never perceived the frightful cloud Avhich already al-
nm-JAnCrAL.
351
most obscured tlie horizon, and which promised a storm
that would sweep all before it. No one at that time
thought seriously of a revolt among the slaves,—a class
too much despised to be feared ; but between the whites
and the free mulattoes there was sufficient hatred to cause
an outbreak at any moment, which might entail the most
disastrous consequences.
During the first days of August a strange incident oc¬
curred, which threw a slight shade of uneasiness over the
sunshine of my happiness.
CHAPTER III.
On the banks of a little river which flowed through my
uncle's estate was a small rustic pavilion in the midst of a
clump of trees. Marie was in the habit of coming here
every day to enjoy the sea breeze, which blows regularly
in St. Domingo, even during the hottest months of the
year, from sunrise until evening. Each morning it was
my pleasant task to adorn this charming retreat with the
sweetest flowers that I could gather.
One morning Marie came running to me in a great
state of alarm. Upon entering her leafy retreat she had
perceived, with surprise and terror, all the flowers which
I had arranged in the morning thrown upon the ground
and trampled under foot, and a bunch of wild marigolds,
freshly gathered, placed upon her accustomed seat. She
had hardly recovered from her terror, when, in the adjoin¬
ing coppice, she heard the sound of a guitar, and a voice,
which was not mine, commenced singing a Spanish song;
but in her excitement she had been unable to catch the
meaning of the words, though she could hear her own
name frequently repeated. Then she had taken to flight,
and had come to me full of this strange and surprising
event.
This recital filled me with jealousy and indignation.
My first suspicions pointed to the mulatto with whom I
had fought; but even in the midst of my perplexity I re¬
solved to do yothing rashly. I soothed Marie's fears as
best I could, and promised to watch over her without
352
OF ICELAXD.
ceasing, until the marriage tie would give me the right of
never leaving her.
Believing that the intruder whose insolence had so
alarmed Marie would not content himself with what he
had already done, I concealed myself that very evening
near the portion of the house in which my betrothed's
chamber was situated.
Hidden among the tall stalks of the sugar-cane, and
armed with a dagger, I waited ; and I did not wait in vain.
Towards the middle of the night my attention was sud¬
denly attracted by the notes of a guitar under the very
window of the room in which Marie reposed. Furious
with rage, with my dagger clutched firmly in my hand,
I rushed in the direction of the sound, crushing beneath
my feet the brittle stalks of the sugar-canes. All of a
sudden I felt myself seized and thrown upon my back
with what appeared to be superhuman force; my dagger
was Avrenched from my grasp, and I saw its point shining
above me; at the same moment I could perceive a pair of
eyes and a double row of white teeth gleaming through
the darkness, while a voice, in accents of concentrated
rage, muttered, " Te tengo, te tengo!" (I have you, I
have you).
More astonished than frightened, I struggled vainly
with my formidable antagonist, and already the point of
the dagger had pierced my clothes, when Marie, whom
the sound of the guitar and the noise of the struggle had
aroused, appeared suddenly at her window. She recog¬
nized my voice, saw the gleam of the knife, and uttered a
cry of terror and affright. This cry seemed to paralyze
the hand of my opponent. He stopped as if petrified;
but still, as though undecided, he kept the point of the
dagger pressed upon my chest. Then he suddenly ex¬
claimed in French, "No, I cannot; she would weep too
much," and, casting away the weapon, rose to his feet,
and in an instant disappeared in the canes; and before I
could rise, bruised and shaken from the struggle, no
sound and no sign remained of the presence or the flight
of my adversary.
It was some time before I could recover my scattered
faculties. I was more furious than ever with my un¬
known rival, and was overcome with a feeling of shame
nUG-JARGAL.
at being indebted to him for my life. " After all, how¬
ever," I thought, " it is to Marie that I owe it; for it
was the sound of her voice that caused him to drop his
dagger."
And yet I could not hide from myself that there was
something noble in the sentiment which had caused my
unknown rival to spare me. But who could he be?
One supposition after another rose in my mind, all to
be discarded in turn. It could not be the mulatto plant¬
er to whom my suspicions had first been directed. He
was not endowed with such muscular power; nor was it
his voice. The man with whom I had struggled was
naked to the waist; slaves alone went about half-clothed
in this manner. But this could not be a slave ; the feel¬
ing which had caused him to throw away the dagger
would not have been found in the bosom of a slave,—
and besides, my whole soul revolted at the idea of hav¬
ing a slave for a rival. What was to be done ? I deter¬
mined to wait and watch.
CHAPTER IV.
Marie had awakened her old nurse, whom she looked
upon almost in the light of the mother who had died in
giving her birth, and with them I remained for the rest
of the night, and in the morning informed my uncle of
the mysterious occurrence. His surprise was extreme,
but, like me, his pride would not permit him to believe
that a slave would venture to raise his eyes to his daugh¬
ter. The nurse received the strictest orders from my
uncle never to leave Marie alone for a moment; but as
the sittings of the Provincial Assembly, the threatening
aspect of the affairs of the colony, and the superinten¬
dence of the plantation allowed him but little leisure, he
authorized me to accompany his daughter whenever she
left the house, until the celebration of our nuptials ; and
at the same time, presuming that the daring lover must
be lurking in the neighborhood, he ordered the bound¬
aries of the plantation to be more strictly guarded than
ever.
23
354
lIAXfi OF ICELAXD.
After all these precautions had been taken, I deter¬
mined to put the matter to further proof. I returned to
the summer-house by the river, and repairing the de¬
struction of the evening before, I placed a quantity oi
fresh flowers in their accustomed place. When the
time arrived at which Marie usually sought the sweet
shades of this sequestered spot, I loaded my rifle and
proposed to escort her thither. The old nurse followed a
few steps behind.
Marie, to whom I had said nothing about my having
set the place to rights, entered the summer-house the
first. " See, Leopold," said she, " my nest is in the same
condition in which I left it yesterday; here are your
flowers thrown about in disorder and trampled to pieces,
and there is that odious bouquet which does not appear
at all faded since yesterday ; indeed, it looks as if it had
been freshly gathered."
I was speechless with rage and surprise. There was
m}' morning's work utterly ruined, and the wild flowers,
at whose freshness Marie was so much astonished, had
insolently usurped the place of the roses that I had
strewn all over the place.
" Calm yourself," said Marie, who noticed my agita¬
tion ; " this insolent intruder will come here no more;
let us put all thoughts of him on one side, as I do this
nasty bunch of flowers."
I did not care to undeceive her, and to tell her that
he had returned; yet I was pleased to see the air of
innocent indignation with which she crushed the flowers
under her foot. Hoping that the day would again come
when I should meet my mysterious rival face to face, I
made her sit down between her nurse and myself.
Scarcely had we done so when INIarie put her finger on
my lips: a sound, deadened by the breeze and the rip¬
pling of the stream, had struck upon her ear. I listened ;
it was the notes of a guitar, the same melody that had
filled me with fury on the preceding evening. I made a
movement to start from my seat, but a gesture of Marie's
detained me.
"Leopold," whispered she, "restrain yourself; he is
going to sing, and we shall learn who he is."
As she spoke, a few more notes were struck on the
BUG-JARGAL.
355
guitar, and then from the depths of the wood came the
plaintive melody of a Spanish song, every word of which
has remained deeply engraved on my memory:—
Why dost thou fear me and fly me ?
Say, has my music no charms ?
Do you not know that I love you ?
Why, then, these causeless alarms?
Maria!
When I perceive your slight figure
Glide through the cocoanut grove,
Sometimes I think 'tis a spirit
Come to reply to my love.
Maria!
Sweeter your voice to mine ears
Than the birds' song in the sky
That, from the kingdom I've lost,
Over the wide ocean fly.
Maria!
Far away, once I was king.
Noble and powerful and free ;
All I would gladly give up
For a word, for a gesture from thee.
Maria !
Tall and upright as a palm,
Sweet in your young lover's eyes
As the soft shade of the tree
Mirrored in cool water lies.
Maria!
But know you not that the storm
Comes and uproots the fair tree ?
Jealousy comes like that storm.
Bringing destruction to thee,
Maria!
Tremble. Hispaniola's daughter.
Lest all should fade and decay ;
And vainly you look for the arm
To bear you in safety away.
Maria!
Why, then, repulse my fond love ?
Black I am, while you are white;
Night and the day, when united.
Bring forth the beautiful light.
Maria 1
356
EAUS OF ICELAND,
. CHAPTER V.
A PROLONGED quavoring note upon the guitar, like a sob,
concluded the song.
I was beside myself with rage. King! black! slave !
A thousand incoherent ideas were awakened by this
extraordinary and mysterious song. A maddening desire
to finish for once and all with this unknown being, who
dared to mingle the name of Marie with songs of love
and menace, took possession of me. I grasped my rifie
convulsively and rushed from the summer-house. Marie
stretched out her arms to detain me, but I was already
in the thicket fl'om which the voice appeared to have
come. I searched the little wood thoroughly, I beat the
bushes with the barrel of my rifie, I crept behind the
trunks of the large trees, and walked through the high
grass.
Nothing, nothing, always nothing! This fruitless
search added fuel to the fire of my anger. Was this in¬
solent rival always to escape from me like a supernatural
being? Was I never to be able to find out who he was,
or to meet him ? At this moment the tinkling of bells
roused me from my revery. I turned sharply round,
the dwarf Habibrah was at my side.
"Good-day, master," said he, with a sidelong glance
full of triumphant malice at the anxiety which was im¬
printed on my face
" Tell me," exclaimed I, roughly, " have you seen any
one about here ? "
"No one except yourself, senor mio," answered he,
calmly.
" Did you hear no voice ? " continued I.
The slave remained silent, as though seeking for an
evasive reply.
My passion burst forth. " Quick, quick I " I exclaimed.
"Answer me quickly, wretch! did you hear a voice?"
He fixed his eyes boldly upon mine; they were small
and round, and gleamed like those of a wild cat.
" What do you mean by a voice, master ? There are
BUG-JARGAL.
357
voices everywhere,—the voice of the birds, the voice of
the stream, the voice of the wind in the trees—"
I shook him roughly. " Miserable buffoon! " I cried,
" cease your quibbling, or you shall hear another voice
from the barrel of my rifle. Answer at onee; did you
hear a man singing a Spanish song ? "
"Yes, senor," answered he, calmly. "Listen, and I
will tell you all about it. I was walking on the outskirts
of the wood listening to what the silver bells of my gorra
[cap]were telling me, when the wind brought to my ears
some Spanish words,—the first language that I heard
when my age could have been counted by months, and
my mother carried me slung at her back in a hammock
of red and yellow wool. 1 love the language; it recalls
to me the time when I was little without being a dwarf,
—a little child, and not a buffoon; and so I listened to
the song."
" Is that all you have to say ? " cried I, impatiently.
" Yes, handsome master ; but if you like I can tell you
who the man was who sang."
I felt inclined to clasp him in my arms. " Oh, speak !"
I exclaimed ; " speak ! Here is my purse, and ten others
fuller than that shall be yours if you will tell me his
name."
He took the purse, opened it, and smiled. "Ten
purses fuller than this," murmured he; " that will make
a fine heap of good gold coins. But do not be impatient,
young master, I am going to tell you all. Do you re¬
member the last verse of his song,—something about
' I am black, and you are white, and the union of the
two produces the beautiful light'? Well, if this song
is true, Habibrah, your humble slave, was born of a
negress and a white, and must be more beautiful than
you, master. I am the offspring of day and night, there¬
fore I am more beautiful than a white man, and—"
He accompanied this rhapsody with bursts of laughter.
" Enough of buffoonery," cried I; " tell me who was
singing in the wood !"
" Certainly, master; the man who sang such buffoon¬
eries, as you rightly term them, could only have been—
a fool like me! 'Have I not gained my ten purses ? "
I raised my hand to chastise his insolence, when a
358
HANS OF ICELAND.
wild shriek rang through the wood from the direction of
the summer-house. It was Marie's voice. Like an
arrow I darted to the spot, wondering what fresh mis¬
fortune could be in store for us, and in a few moments
arrived, out of breath, at the door of the pavilion. A
terrible spectacle presented itself to my eyes.
An enormous alligator, whose body was half concealed
by the reeds and water plants, had thrust his monstrous
head through one of the leafy sides of the summer-
house ; his hideous, widely-opened mouth threatened a
young negro of colossal height, who with one arm sus¬
tained Marie's fainting form, while with the other he
had plunged the iron portion of a hoe between the sharp
and pointed teeth of the monster. The reptile struggled
fiercely against the bold and courageous hand that held
him at bay.
As I appeared at the door, Marie uttered a cry of joy,
and extricating herself from the support of the negro,
threw herself into my arms with, "I am saved ! I am
saved!"
At the movement and exclamation of Marie the negro
turned abruptly round, crossed his arms on his breast,
and casting a look of infinite sorrow upon my betrothed,
remained immovable, taking no heed of the alligator,
which, having freed itself from the hoe, was advancing on
him in a threatening manner. There would have been
a speedy end of the courageous negro had I not rapidly
placed Marie on the knees of her nurse (who, more
dead than alive, was gazing upon the scene), and coming
close to the monster, discharged my carbine into its yawn¬
ing mouth. The huge reptile staggered back, its bleed¬
ing jaws opened and shut convulsively, its eyes closed ;
and after one or two unavailing efforts it rolled over upon
its back, with its scaly feet stiffening in the air. It was
dead.
The negro whose life I had so happily preserved turned
his head, and saw the last convulsive struggles of the
monster; then he fixed his eyes upon Marie, who had
again east herself into my arms, and in accents of the
deepest despair, he exclaimed in Spanish, " Why did you
kill him ? " and without waiting for a reply leaped into
the thicket and disappeared.
BUG-JAEGAL.
CHAPTER VI.
The terrible scene, its singular conclusion, the extraor¬
dinary mental emotions of every kind which had accom¬
panied and followed my vain researches in the wood, had
made my brain whirl. Marie was still stupefied with
the danger that she had so narrowly escaped, and some
time elapsed before we could frame coherent words, or
express ourselves otherwise than by looks and clasping
of the hands.
At last I broke the silence: " Come, Marie, let us
leave this; some fatality seems attached to the place."
She rose eagerly, as if she had only been waiting for my
permission to do so, and leaning upon my arm, we quitted
the pavilion. I asked her how it had happened that
succor had so opportunely arrived when the danger was
so imminent, and if she knew who the slave was who had
come to her assistance; for that it was a slave, was
shown by his coarse linen trousers,—a dress only worn
by that unhappy class.
" The man," replied Marie, " is no doubt one of my
father's negroes, who was at work in the vicinity when
the appearance of the alligator made me scream ; and my
cry must have warned him of my danger. All I know
is, that he rushed out of the Avood and came to my
help."
" From which side did he come ? " asked I.
" From the opposite side from Avhich the song came,
and into which you had just gone."
This statement upset the conclusion that I had been
drawing from the Spanish words that the negro had ad¬
dressed to me, and from the song in the same language
by my unknown rival. But yet there Avas a croAvd of
other similarities. This negro of great height and poAver-
ful muscular development might Avell have been the ad¬
versary with Avhom I had struggled on the preceding
night. In that case his half-clothed person Avould fur¬
nish a strikipg proof. The singer in the aa'ood had said,
" I am black,"—a further proof. He had declared him-
360
HANS OF ICELAND.
eelf to be a king, and this one was only a slave; but I
recollected that in my brief examination I had been sur¬
prised at the noble appearance of his features, though of
course accompanied by the characteristic signs of the
African race.
The more that I thought of his appearance, the noble¬
ness of his deportment, and his magnificent proportions,
I felt that there might be some truth in his statement
that he had been a king. But then came the crushing
blow to my pride; if he had dared to gaze with an eye of
affection upon Marie, if he had made her the object of his
serenades,—he, a negro and a slave,—what punishment
could be sufficiently severe for his presumption? "With
these thoughts all my indecision returned again, and
again my anger increased against the mysterious unknown.
But at the moment that these ideas filled 1113^ brain, Marie
dissipated them entirely by exclaiming, in her gentle
voice,—
" My Leopold, we must seek out this brave negro, and
pay bim the debt of gratitude that we owe him ; for with¬
out him I should have been lost, for you would have ar¬
rived too late."
These few words had a decisive effect. They did not
alter my determination to seek out the slave, but they
entirely altered the design with which I sought him; for
it was to recompense and not to punish him that I was
now eager.
My uncle learned from me that he owed his daughter's
life to the courage of one of his slaves, and he promised
me his liberty as soon as I could find him out.
CHAPTER VIL
Up to that time my feelings had restrained me from
going into those portions of the plantations where the
slaves were at work ; it had been too painful for me to
see so much suffering which I was powerless to alleviate.
But on the day after the events had taken place which I
have just narrated, upon my uncle asking me to accompany
him on his tour of inspection, I accepted his proposal
BUG-JARGAL.
3G1
with eagerness, hoping to meet among the laborers the
preserver of my much-beloved Marie.
I had the opportunity in this visit of seeing how great
a power the master exercises over his slaves, but at the
same time I could perceive at what a cost this power was
bought; for though at the presence of my uncle all re¬
doubled their efforts, I could perceive that there was as
much hatred as terror in the looks that they furtively
cast upon him.
Irascible by temperament, my nncle seemed vexed at
being unable to discover any object upon which to vent
his wrath, until Habibrah the buffoon, who was ever at
his heels, pointed out to him a young negro, who, over¬
come by heat and fatigue, had fallen asleep under a
clump of date-trees. My uncle stepped quickly up to
him, shook him violently, and in angry tones ordered
him to resume his work.
The terrified slave rose to his feet, and in so doing
disclosed a Bengal rose-tree upon which he had acci¬
dentally lain, and which my uncle prized highly. The
shrub was entirely destroyed.
At this the master, already irritated at what he called
the idleness of his slave, became furious. Foaming with
rage, he unhooked from his belt the whip with wire-
plated thongs, which he always carried with him on his
rounds, and raised his arm to strike . the negro who had
fallen at his feet.
The whip did not fall. I shall, as long as I live, never
forget that moment. A powerful grasp arrested the hand
of the angry planter, and a negro (it was the very one
that I was in search of) exclaimed, " Punish me, for I
have offended you ; but do not hurt my brother, who has
but broken your rose-tree."
This unexpected interposition from the man to whom
I owed Marie's safety, his manner, his look, and the
haughty tone of his voice, struck me with surprise. But
his generous intervention, far from causing my uncle to
blush for his causeless anger, only increased the rage of
the incensed master, and turned his anger upon the new¬
comer.
Exasperated to the highest pitch, my uncle disengaged
his arm from the grasp of the tall negro, and pouiing out
362
EAys OF ICELAND.
a volley of threats, again raised the whip to strike the
first victim of his anger. This time, however, it was
torn from his hand, and the negro, breaking the handle
studded with iron nails as you would break a straw, cast
it upon the ground and trampled upon the instrument of
degrading punishment.
I was motionless with surprise; my uncle with rage,
for it was an unheard-of thing for him to find his
authority thus contemned. His eyes appeared ready to
start from their sockets, and his lips quivered with
passion.
The negro gazed upon him calmly, and then, with a
dignified air, lie offered him an ax that he held in his
hand. " White man," said he, " if you wish to strike me,
at least take this ax."
My uncle, beside himself with rage, would certainly
have complied with the request, for he stretched out his
hand to grasp the dangerous weapon ; but I in my turn
interfered, and seizing the ax threw it into the well of a
sugar-mill which was close at hand.
" AVhat have you done'?" asked ray uncle, angrily.
" I have saved you," answered I, " from the unhappi-
ness of striking the preserver of your daughter. It is to
this slave that you owe Marie ; it is the negro to whom
you have promised liberty."
It was an unfortunate moment in which to remind my
uncle of his promise. My words could not soothe the
wounded dignity of the planter.
" His liberty ! " replied he, savagely. " Yes, he has de¬
served that an end should be put to his slavery. His
liberty indeed! we shall see what sort of liberty the
members of a court-martial will accord him."
These menacing words chilled my blood. In vain did
Marie later join her entreaties to mine. The negro whose
negligence had been the cause of this scene was punished
with a severe Hogging, while his defender was thrown in¬
to the dungeons of Fort (lalifet, under the terrible ac¬
cusation of having assaulted a white man. For a slave
who did this, the punishment was invariably death.
BUG-JARGAL.
363
CHAPTER Vni.
You may judge, gentlemen, how much all these cir¬
cumstances excited my curiosity and interest. I made
every inquiry regarding the prisoner, and some strange
particulars came to my knowledge. I learned that all his
comrades displayed the greatest respect for the young
negro. Slave as he was, he had but to make a sign to be
implicitly obeyed. He was not born upon the estate, nor
did any one know his father or mother; all that was
known of him was that some years ago a slave ship had
brought him to St. Domingo. This circumstance ren¬
dered the influence which he exercised over the slaves the
more extraordinary, for as rule the negroes born upon the
island profess the greatest contempt for the Conpos,—a
term which they apply to all slaves brought direct from
Africa.
Although he seemed a prey to deep dejection, his
enormous strength, combined with his great skill, ren¬
dered him very valuable in the plantation. He could
turn more quickly, and for a longer period, than a horse
the wheels of the sugar-mills, and often in a single day
performed the work of ten of his companions to save
them from the punishment to which their negligence or
incapacity had rendered them liable. For this reason he
was adored by the slaves; but the respect that they paid
him was of an entirely different character from the
superstitious dread with which they looked upon Habi-
brah the Jester.
What was more strange than all was the modesty and
gentleness with which he treated his equals, in contrast
to the pride and haughtiness which he displayed to the
negroes who acted as overseers. These privileged slaves,
the intermediary links in the chain of servitude, too
often exceed the little brief authority that is delegated
to them, and find a cruel pleasure in overwhelming those
beneath them with work. Not one of them, however,
had ever dared to inflict any species of punishment on
him, for had they done so, twenty negroes would have
stepped forward to take his place, while he would have
364 BANS OF ICELAND.
looked gravely on, as though he considered that they
were merely performing a duty. The strange being was
known throughout the negro quarter as Pierrot.
CHAPTER IX.
The whole of these circumstances took a firm hold
upon my youthful imagination. Marie, inspired by
compassion and gratitude, applauded my enthusiasm ; and
Pierrot excited our interest so much that I determined to
visit him and offer him my services in extricating him
from his perilous position. As the nephew of one of the
richest colonists in the Cap, I was, in spite of my youth,
a captain in the Acul Militia. This regiment, and a
detachment of the Yellow Dragoons, had charge of
Fort Galifet; the detachment was commanded by a non¬
commissioned officer, to whose brother I had once had the
good fortune to render an important service, and who
therefore was entirely devoted to me.
[Here the listeners at once pronounced the name of
Thaddeus.]
You are right, gentlemen; and as you may well believe,
I had not much trouble in penetrating to the cell in which
the negro was confined. As a captain in the militia, I
had of course the right to visit the fort; but to evade
the suspicions of my uncle, whose rage was still un¬
abated, I took care to go there at the time of his noon¬
day siesta. All the soldiers too, except those on guard,
were asleep, and guided by Thaddeus I came to the door
of the cell. He opened it for me, and then discreetly
retired.
The negro was seated on the ground, for on account of
his height he could not stand upright. He was not
alone ; an enormous dog was crouched at his fbet, which
rose with a growl, and moved toward me.
" Rask! " cried the negro.
The dog ceased growling, and again lay down at his
master's feet, and began eating some coarse food.
I was in uniform, and the daylight that came through
the loophole in the wall of the cell was so feeble that
Pierrot could not recognize my features.
BUG-JATtGAL.
305
" I am ready," said he, in a clear voice.
" I thought," remarked I, surprised at the ease with
which he moved, " that you were in irons."
He kicked something that jingled.
" Irons ; oh, I broke them! "
There was sonething in the tone in which he uttered
these words that seemed to say, " I was not born to wear
letters."
I continued: " I did not know that they had per¬
mitted you to have a dog with you."
" They did not allow it; I brought him in."
I was more and more astonished. Three bolts closed
the door on the outside, the loophole was scarcely six
inches in width, and had two iron bars across it.
He seemed to divine my thoughts, and rising as
nearly erect as the low roof would permit, he pulled out
with ease a large stone placed under the loophole, re¬
moved the iron bars, and displayed an opening sufficiently
large to permit two men to pass through. This opening
looked upon a grove of bananas and cocoa-nut trees which
covered the hill upon which the fort was built.
Surprise rendered me dumb; at that moment a ray of
light fell on my face. The prisoner started as if he had
accidentally trodden upon a snake, and his head struck
against the ceiling of the cell. A strange mixture of
opposing feelings passed over his face,—hatred, kind¬
ness, and astonishment being all mingled together ; but
recovering himself with an effort, his face once more
became cold and calm, and he gazed upon me as if I
was entirely unknown to him.
" I can live two days more without eating," said he.
I saw how thin he had become, and made a movement
of horror.
He continued : " My dog will only eat from my hand,
and had I not enlarged the loophole, poor Rask would
have died of hunger. It is better that he should live,
for I know that I am condemned to death."
" No," I said; " no, you shall not die of hunger."
He misunderstood me. "Very well," answered he,
with a bitter smile, " I could have lived two days yet
without food, but I am ready : to-day is as good as to¬
morrow. Do not hurt Rask."
30G
7/^.VS OF ICELAND.
Then I understood what he meant when he said " I
am ready." Accu.sed of a crime the punishment for
which was death, he believed that I had come to an-
nounce his immediate execution; and yet this man
endowed with herculean strength, with all the avenues
of escape open to him, had in a calm and childlike man¬
ner repeated, " I am ready !"
" Do not hurt Rask," said he, once more.
I could restrain myself no longer. " What! " I ex¬
claimed, " not only do you take me for your executioner,
but you think so meanly of my humanity that you be¬
lieve I would injure this poor dog, who has never done
me any harm! "
His manner softened, and there was a slight tremor
in his voice as he offered me his hand, saying, " White
man, pardon me; but I love my dog, and your race have
cruelly injured me."
I embraced him, I clasped his hand, I did my best to
undeceive him. " Do you not know me ? " asked I.
" I know that you are white, and that a negro is noth¬
ing in the eyes of men of your color ; besides, you have
injured me."
" In what manner ? " exclaimed I, in surprise.
" Have you not twice saved my life ? "
This strange accusation made me smile; he perceived
it, and smiled bitterly: "Yes, I know it too well: once
you saved my life from an alligator, and once from a
planter ; and what is worse, I am denied the right to hate
you. I am very unhappy."
The strangeness of his language and of his ideas sur¬
prised me no longer; it was in harmony with himself.
" I owe more to you than you can owe to me. I owe
you the life of Marie,—of my betrothed."
He started as though he had received some terrible
shock. " Marie!" repeated he in stifled tones, and his
face fell in his hands, which trembled violently, while his
bosom rose and fell with heavy sighs.
I must confess that once again my suspicions were
aroused; but this time there were no feelings of anger or
jealousy. I was too near my happiness, and he_ was
trembling upon the brink of death, so that I could not
for a moment look upon him as a rival; and even had I
BUG-.TAliGAL.
3(17
done so, his forlorn condition would have excited my
compassion and sympathy.
At last he raised his head. " Go," said he ; " do not
thank me." After a pause he added, " And yet my rank
is as lofty as your own."
These last words roused my curiosity. I urged him
to tell me of his position and his sufferings; but he
maintained an obstinate silence.
My proceedings, however, had touched his heart, and
my entreaties appeared to have vanquished his distaste
for life. He left his cell, and in a short time" returned
with some bananas and a large cocoa-nut; then he re-
closed the opening and began to eat. As we conversed,
I remarked that he spoke French and Spanish with
equal facility, and that his education had not been en¬
tirely neglected. He knew many Spanish songs, which
he sang with great feeling. Altogether he was a mystery
that I endeavored in vain to solve, for he would give me
no key to the riddle. At last, with regret, I was com¬
pelled to leave him, after having urged on my faithful
Thaddeus to permit him every possible indulgence.
CHAPTER X.
Eveby day at the same hour I visited him. His position
rendered me very uneasy, for in spite of all our prayers,
my uncle obstinately refused to withdraw his complaint.
I did not conceal my fears from Pierrot, who however
listened to them with indifference.
Often Rask would come in with a large palm-leaf tied
round his neck. His master would take it off, read some
lines traced upon it in an unknown language, and then
tear it up. I had ceased to question him in any matters
connected with himself.
One day as I entered he took no notice of me; he was
seated with his back to the door of the cell, and was
whistling in melancholy mood the Spanish air, "Yo que
soy contrabandista " (" A smuggler am I "). When he
had completed it, he turned sharply round to me, and ex¬
claimed : " Brother, if you ever doubt me, promise that you
■will cast aside all suspicion on hearing me sing this air."
368
HANS OF ICELAND.
His look was earnest, and I promised what he asked,
without noticing the words upon which he laid so much
stress, " If you ever doubt me." He took the empty half
of a cocoa-nut which he had brought in on the day of my
first visit, and had preserved ever since, filled it with
palm wine, begged me to put my lips to it, and then
drank it off at a draught. From that day he always
called me brother.
And now I began to cherish a hope of saving Pierrot's
life. My uncle's anger had cooled down a little. The
preparations for the festivities connected with his daugh¬
ter's wedding had caused his feelings to flow in gentle
channels. Marie joined her entreaties to mine. Each
day I pointed out to him that Pierrot had had no desire
to insult him, but had merely interposed to prevent him
from committing an act of perhaps too great severity;
that the negro had at the risk of his life saved Marie from
the alligator; and besides, Pierrot was the strongest of
all his slaves (for now I sought to save his life, not to ob¬
tain his liberty); that he was able to do the work of ten
men, and that his single arm was sufficient to put the
rollers of a sugar-mill in motion. My uncle listened to
me calmly, and once or twice hinted that he might not
follow up his complaint.
I did not say a word to the negro of the change that
had taken place, hoping that I should soon be the mes¬
senger to announce to him his restoration to liberty.
What astonished me greatly was, that though he believed
that he was under sentence of death, he made no effort to
avail himself of the means of escape that lay in his power.
I spoke to him of this.
" I am forced to remain," said he, simply, " or they
would think that I was afraid."
CHAPTER XI.
One morning Marie came to me radiant with happi¬
ness ; upon her gentle face was a sweeter expression than
even the joys of pure love could produce, for written
upon it was the knowledge of a good deed.
BUG-JARGAL.
36&
" Listen," said she. " In three days we shall be mar¬
ried. We shall soon—"
I interrupted, her.
" Do not say soon, Marie, when there is yet an interval
of three days."
She blushed and smiled. "Do not be foolish, Leo¬
pold," replied she. " An idea has struck me which has
made me very happy. You know that yesterday I went
to town with my father to buy all sorts of things for our
wedding. I only care for jewels because you say that
they become me; I would give all my pearls for a single
flower from the bouquet which that odious man with the
marigolds destroyed. But that is not what 1 meant to
say. My father wished to buy me everything that I
admired; and among other things there was a basquina
of Chinese satin embroidered with flowers, which I ad¬
mired. It was very expensive. My father noticed that
the dress had attracted my attention. As we were return¬
ing home, I begged him to promise me a boon after the
manner of the knights of old : you know how he delights
to be compared to them. He vowed on his honor that
he would grant me whatever I asked, thinking of course
that it was the basquina of Chinese satin; but no, it is
Pierrot's pardon that I will ask for as my nuptial
present."
I could not refrain from embracing her tenderly. My
uncle's word was sacred, and while Marie ran to him to
claim its fulfilment, I hastened to Fort Galifet to convey
the glad news to Pierrot.
" Brother," exclaimed I, as I entered, " rejoice ! your
life is safe; Marie has obtained it as a wedding present
from her father."
The slave shuddered.
" Marie—wedding—my life ! What reference have
these things to one another ? "
" It is very simple," answered I. " Marie, whose life
you saved, is to be married—"
" To whom ? " exclaimed the negro, a terrible change
coming over his face.
« Did you not know that she was to be married to me ? "
His feature^ relaxed. " Ah, yes," he replied; " and
when is the marriage to take place ? "
24
BANS OF ICELAND.
« On August the 22d."
" On August the 22d! Are you mad ? " cried he, with
terror painted in his countenance.
He stopped abruptly; I looked at him with astonish¬
ment. After a short pause he clasped my hand:
" Brother," said he, " I owe you so much that I must give
you a warning. Trust to me ; take up your residence in
Cap, and get married before the 22d."
In vain I entreated him to explain his mysterious
words.
" Farewell," said he, in solemn tones ; " I have perhaps
said too much, but I hate ingratitude even more than
perjury."
I left the prison a prey to feelings of great uneasiness;
but all these were soon effaced by the thoughts of my
approaching happiness.
That very day my uncle withdrew his charge, and I
returned to the fort to release Pierrot. Thaddeus, on
hearing the noise, accompanied me to the prisoner's cell;
but he was gone ! Rask alone remained, and came up to
me wagging his tail. To his neck was fastened a palm-
leaf, upon which were written these words; " Thanks;
for the third time you have saved my life. Do not for¬
get your promise, friend;" while underneath, in lieu of
signature, were the words: "Yo que soy contrabandista."
Thaddeus was even more astonished than I was, for
he was ignorant of the enlargement of the loophole, and
firmly believed that the negro had changed himself into
a dog. I allowed him to remain in this belief, contenting
myself with making him promise to say nothing of what
he had seen. I wished to take Rask home with me, but
on leaving the fort he plunged into a thicket and dis¬
appeared.
CHAPTER XII.
My uncle was furiously enraged at the escape of the
negro. He ordered a diligent search to be made for him,
and wrote to the governor placing Pierrot entirely at his
disposal should he be retaken.
The 22d of August arrived. My union with Marie
BUG-JARGAL.
371
was celebrated with every species of rejoicing at the
parish church of Acul. How happily did that day com¬
mence from which all our misfortunes were to date! I
was intoxicated with my happiness, and Pierrot and his
mysterious warning were entirely banished from my
thoughts.
At last the day came to a close, and my wife had
retired to her apartments, but for a time duty forbade
me joining her there. My position as a captain of militia
required me that evening to make the round of the guards
posted about Acul. This nightly precaution was abso¬
lutely necessary owing to the disturbed state of the
colony, caused by occasional outbreaks among the negroes,
which, however, had been promptly repressed. My uncle
was the first to recall me to the recollection of my duty.
I had no option but to yield, and, putting on my uniform,
I went out. I visited the first few guards without dis¬
covering any cause of alarm; but towards midnight, as
half buried in my own thoughts I was patrolling the
shores of the bay, I perceived upon the horizon a ruddy
light in the direction of Limonade and St. Louis du
Morin. At first my escort attributed it to some acci¬
dental confiagration; but in a few moments the fiames
became so vivid, and the smoke rising before the wind
grew so thick, that I ordered an immediate return to the
fort to give the alarm, and to request that help might be
sent ill the direction of the fire.
In passing through the quarters of the negroes who
belonged to our estate, I was surprised at the extreme
disorder that reigned there. The majority of the slaves
were afoot and were talking together with great earnest¬
ness. One strange word was pronounced with the greatest
respect s It was Diig-Jargal, which occuri'ed continually
in the almost unintelligible dialect that they used. From
a word or two which I gathered here and there, I learned
that the negroes of the northern districts were in open
revolt, and had set fire to the dwelling-houses and the
plantations on the other side of Cap. Passing through
a marshy spot, I discovered a quantity of axes and other
tools, which would serve as weapons, hidden among the
reeds. , ,
My suspicions were now thoroughly aroused, and I
372
HANS OF ICELAND.
ordered the whole of the Acul militia to get under arms,
and gave the command to my lieutenant; and while my
poor Marie was expecting me, I, obeying my uncle's
orders (who, as I have mentioned, was a member of the
Provincial Assembly), took the road to Cap, with such
soldiers as I had been able to muster.
I shall never forget the appearance of the town as we
approached. The flames from the plantations which
were burning all around it threw a lurid light upon the
scene, which was only partially obscured by the clouds
of smoke which the wind drove into the narrow streets.
Immense mas.ses of sparks rose from the burning heaps
of sugar-cane, and fell like fiery snow on the roofs of
the houses and on the rigging of the vessels at anchor
in the roadsteads, at eveiy moment threatening the town
of Cap with as serious a conflagration as was already
raging in its immediate neighborhood. It was a terrible
sight to witness the terror-stricken inhabitants exposing
their lives to preserve from so destructive a visitant their
habitations, which perhaps was the last portion of prop¬
erty left to them; while, on the other hand, the vessels,
taking advantage of a fair wind, and fearing the same
fate, had already set sail, and were gliding over an ocean
reddened by the flames of the conflagration.
CHAPTER XIII.
Stunned by the noise of the minute-guns from the fort,
by the cries of the fugitives and the distant crash of fall¬
ing buildings, I did not know in what direction to lead
my men; but meeting in the main square the captain of
the Yellow Dragoons, he advised me to proceed direct to
the governor.
Other hands have painted the disasters of Cap, and I
must pass quickly over my recollections of them, written
as they are in fire and blood. I will content myself
with saying that the insurgent slaves were already mas¬
ters of Dondon, of Terrier-Rouge, of the town of Ouana-
minte, and of the plantation of Limbe. This last news
tilled me with uneasiness, owing to the proximity of
BUG-JABGAL.
37-3
Limbe to Acul. I made all speed to the Government
House. All was in confusion there. I asked for orders,
and begged that instant measures miglit be taken for
the security of Acul, which I feared the insurgents
were already threatening. With the governor (Monsieur
de Blanchelande) were M. de Kouvray, the brigadier and
one of the largest landholders in Cap; IM. de Touzard,
the lieutenant-colonel of the Regiment of Cap; a great
many members of the Colonial and the Provincial As¬
semblies, and numbers of the leading colonists. As I
entered, all were engaged in a confused argument.
"Your Excellency," said a member of the Provincial
Assembly, " it is only too true,—it is the negroes, and
not the free mulattoes. It has often been pointed out
that there was danger in that direction."
"You make that statement without believing in its
truth," answered a member of the Colonial Assembly,
bitterly; " and you only say it to gain credit at our
expense. So far from expecting a rising of the slaves,
you got up a sham one in 1789,—a ridiculous farce, in
which with a supposed insurgent force of three thousand
slaves one national volunteer only was killed, and that
most likely by his own comrades."
" I repeat," replied the Provincial, " that we can see
farther than you. It is only natural. We remain upon
the spot and study the minutest details of the colony,
while you and your Assembly hurry off to France to
make some absurd proposals, which are often met with a
national reprimand Hidiculus miis."
The member of the Colonial Assembly answered with
a sneer: " Our fellow-citizens re-elected us all without
hesitation."
" It was your Assembly," retorted the other, " that
caused the execution of that poor devil who neglected to
wear a tricolored cockade in a cafe^ and who com¬
menced a petition for capital punishment to be inflicted
on the mulatto Lacombe with that worn-out phrase, 'In
the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy
Ghost.'"
" It is false ! " exclaimed the other; " there has always
been a struggle f)f principles against privileges between
our Assemblies."
37 i
< < '
IIANS OF ICELAND.
" Ha, monsieur! I see now you are an Independent."
" That is tantamount to allowing that you are in
favor of the White Cockade: I leave, you to get out
of that confession as best you may."
More might have passed, but the governor interposed ;
" Gentlemen, gentlemen, what has this to do with the
present state of affairs, and the pressing danger that
threatens us? Listen to the reports that I have received.
The revolt began this night at ten o'clock among the
slaves in the Turpin Plantation. The negroes, headed
by an English slave named Bouckmann, were joined by
the blacks from Clement, Tremes, Flaville, and Nbe.
They set fire to all the plantations, and massacred the
colonists with the most unheard-of barbarities. By one
single detail I can make you comprehend all the horrors
accompanying this insurrection. The standard of the
insurgents is the body of a white child on the point of a
pike."
A general cry of horror interrupted the governor's
statement.
" So much," continued he, " for what has passed out¬
side the town. Within its limits all is confusion. Fear
has rendered many of the inhabitants forgetful of the
duties of humanity, and they have murdered their slaves.
Nearly all have confined their negroes behind bolts and
bars. The white artisans accuse tlie free mulattoes of
being participators in the revolt, and many have had
great difficulty in escaping from the fury of the populace.
I have had to grant them a place of refuge in a church,
guarded by a regiment of soldiers; and now, to prove
that they have nothing in common with the insurgents,
they ask that they may be armed and led against the
rebels."
" Do nothing of the kind, your Excellency! " cried a
voice which I recognized as that of the planter with
whom I had had a duel,—" do nothing of the kind! give
no arms to the mulattoes !"
" What I do you not want to fight ? " asked a planter,
with a sneer.
The other did not appear to hear him, and continued:
" These men of mixed blood are our worst enemies, and
we must take every precaution against them, It is from
375
that quarter that the insurgents are recruited; the ne¬
groes have but little to do with the rising." The poor
wretch hoped by his abuse of the mulattoes to prove
that he had nothing in common with them, and to clear
himself from the imputation of having black blood in his
veins ; but, the attempt was too barefaced, and a murmur
of disgust rose up on all sides.
"Yes," saidM.de Rouvray, "the slaves Aawe some¬
thing to do with it, for they are forty to one; and we
should be in a serious plight if we could only oppose
the negroes and the mulattoes with whites like you."
The planter bit his lips.
" General," said the governor, " what answer shall be
given to the petition? Shall the mulattoes have the
arms ? "
" Give them weapons, your Excellency; let us make
use of every willing hand. And you, sir," he added,
turning to the colonist of doubtful color, " go arm your¬
self, and join your comrades."
The humiliated planter slunk away, filled with con¬
centrated rage.
But the cries of distress which rang through the town
reached even to the chamber in which the council was
being held. M. de Blanchelande hastily pencilled a few
words upon a slip of paper, and handed it to one of his
aides-de-camp, who at once left the room.
"Gentlemen," he said, "the mulattoes will receive
arms; but there are many more questions ■ to be settled."
" The Provincial Assembly should at once be convoked,"
said the planter who had been speaking when first I
entered.
" The Provincial Assembly ! " retorted his antagonist;
" what is the Provincial Assembly ? "
"You do not know because you are a member of the
Colonial Assembly," replied the favorer of the White
Cockade.
The Independent interrupted him. " I know no more
of the Colonial than the Provincial; I only recognize the
General Assembly."
" Gentlemen," exclaimed a planter," while we are losing
time with thisrfionsense, tell me what is to become of my
cotton and my cochineal."
376
IJAJ^S OF ICELAND.
■ . " And my indigo at Lumb^ ? "
" And my negroes, for whom I paid twenty dollars
ahead all round ? " said the captain of a slave-ship.
" Each minute that you waste," continued another
colonist, " costs me ten quintals of sugar, which at sev¬
enteen piastres the quintal makes one hundred and thirty
livres, ten sous, in French money, by the—"
Here the rival upholders of the two Assemblies again
sought to renew their argument.
" Ilorbleu" said M. de Rouvray in a voice of thunder,
striking the table violently, " what eternal talkers you
are ! What do we care about your two Assemblies ?
Summon both of them, your Excellency, and I will form
them into two regiments ; and when they march against
the negroes we shall see whether their tongues or their
muskets make the most noise."
Then turning towards me he whispered : " Between
the two Assemblies and the governor nothing can be
done. These fine talkers spoil all, as they do in Paris.
If I was seated in his Excellency's chair, I would throw
- all these fellows out of the window, and with my sol¬
diers and a dozen crosses of St. Louis to promise, I would
sweep away all the rebels in the island. These fictitious
ideas of liberty, which they have all run mad after in
France, do not do out here. Negroes should be treated
so as not to upset them entirely by sudden liberation ;
all the terrible events of to-day are merely the result of
this utterly mistaken policy, and this rising of the slaves
is the natural result of the taking of the Bastille."
While the old soldier thus explained to me his views,
—a little narrow-minded perhaps, but full of the frank¬
ness of conviction,—the stormy argument was at its
height. A certain planter, one among the few who were
bitten with the rabid mania of the revolution, and who
called himself Citizen General C , because he had
assisted at a few sanguinary executions, exclaimed :
"We must have punishments rather than battles.
Every nation must exist by terrible examples : let us
terrify the negroes. It was I who quieted the slaves
during the risings of June and July by lining the ap¬
proach to my house with a double row of negro heads.
Let each one join me in this, and let us defend the
BUG-JARGAL.
377
entrances to Cap with the slaves who are still in our
hands."
" How ? " " What do you mean ? " " Folly ! " " The
height of imprudence !" was heard on all sides.
" You do not understand me, gentlemen. Let us make
a ring of negro heads, from Fort Picolet to Point Cara¬
cole. The rebels, their comrades, will not then dare to
approach us. I have five hundred slaves who have
remained faithful : I offer them at once."
This abominable proposal was received with a cry of
horror. " It is infamous ! It is too disgusting! " was
repeated by at least a dozen voices.
" Extreme steps of this sort have brought us to the
verge of destruction," said a planter. " If the execution
of the insurgents of June and July had not been so hur¬
ried on, we should have held in our hands the clew to
the conspiracy, which the ax of the executioner divided
forever."
Citizen C was silenced for a moment by this out¬
burst ; then in an injured tone he muttered : "I did not
think that I above all others should have been suspected
of cruelty. Why, all my life I have been mixed up with
the lovers of the negro race. I am in correspondence
with Briscot and Pruneau de Pomme Gouge, in France ;
with Hans Sloane in England; with Magaw, in America ;
with Pezll, in Germany ; with Olivarius, in Denmark ;
with Wadstibrn, in Sweden ; with Peter Paulus, in
Holland ; with Avendano, in Spain ; and with the Abbe
Pierre Tamburini in Italy! "
His voice rose as he ran through the names of his
correspondents among the lovers of the African race, and
he terminated his speech with the contemptuous remark,
" But after all, there are no true philosophers here."
For the third time M. de Blanchelande asked if any one
had anything further to propose."
" Your Excellency," cried one, " let us embark on
board the ' Leopard,' which lies at anchor off the quay."
" Let us put a price on the head of Bouckmann," ex¬
claimed another.
" Send a report of what has taken place to the Gov¬
ernor of Jamai«a," suggested a third.
" A good idea, so that he may again send us the ironi-
378
HANS OF ICELAND.
cal help of five hundred muskets !" sneered a member of
the Provincial Assembly. " Your Excellency, let us send
the news to France, and wait for a reply."
" Wait ! a likely thing indeed," exclaimed M. de
Rouvray;" and do you think that the blacks will wait,
eh ? And the flames that encircle our town, do you
think that they will wait ? Your Excellency, let the
tocsin be sounded, and send dragoons and grenadiers in
search of the main body of the rebels. Form a camp in
the eastern division of the island ; plant military posts
at Trou and at Vallieres. I will take charge of the plain
of Dauphin ; but let us lose no more time, for the mo¬
ment for action has arrived."
The bold and energetic speech of the veteran soldier
hushed all differences of opinion. The general had acted
wisely. That secret knowledge which every one possesses,
most conducive to his owi interests, caused all to support
the proposal of General de Rouvray ; and while the govei'-
nor with a warm clasp of the hand showed his old friend
that his counsels had been appreciated, though they had
been given in rather a dictatorial manner, the colonists
urged for the immediate carrying out of the proposals.
I seized the opportunity to obtain from M. de Blanche-
lande the permissioir that I so ardently desired, and leav¬
ing the room, mustered my company in order to return
to Acul,—though, with tlie exception of myself, all were
worn out with the fatigue of their late march.
CHAPTER XIV.
Day began to break as I entered the market-place of the
town, and began to rouse up the soldiers, who were lying
about in all directions wrapped in their cloaks, and min¬
gled pell-mell with the Red and Yellow Dragoons, fugi¬
tives from the country, cattle bellowing, and property of
every description sent in for security by the planters.
In the midst of all this confusion I began to pick out my
men, when I saw a private in the Yellow Dragoon.s,
covered with dust and perspiration, ride up at full speed.
I hastened to meet him; and in a few broken words he
nUG-.TARGAL.
379
informed me that my fears were realized,—that tlie insnr-
rection had spread to Acail, and that the negroes Avere
besieging Fort Galifet, in which the planters and the
militia had taken refuge. I must tell you that this fort
was by no means a strong one, for in St. Domingo they
dignify the slightest earthwork Avith the name of fort.
There Avas not a moment to be lost. I mounted as
many of my soldiers as I could jirocure horses for, and
taking the dragoon as a guide, I reached my uncle's plan¬
tation about ten o'clock. I scarcely cast a glance at the
enormous estate, Avhich aa'as nothing but a sea of flame,
over Avhich hovered huge clouds of smoke, through which
every noAv and then the Avind bore trunks of trees covered
Avith sparks. A terrible rustling and crackling sound
seemed to reply to the distant yells of the negroes which
Ave noAV began to hear, though avc could not as yet see
them. The destruction of all this Avealth, Avhich would
eventually have become mine, did not cause me a moment's
regret. All I thought of Avas the safety of Marie: Avhat
mattered anything else in the Avorld to me ? I kncAV that
she had taken refuge in the fort, and I prayed to God
that I might arriA'e in time to rescue her. This hope
sustained me through all the anxiety I felt, and gave me
the strength and courage of a lion.
At length a turn in the road permitted us to see the
fort. The tricolor yet floated on its Avails, and a Avell-
sustained fire was kept up by the garrison. I uttered a
shout of joy. " Gallop, spur on! " said I to my men, and
redoAibling our pace Ave dashed across the fields in the
direction of the scene of action. Near the fort I could see
my uncle's house; the doors and AvindoAvs Avere dashed
in, but the Avails still stood, and shone red Avith the re¬
flected glare of the flames, which oAving to the Avind being
in a contrary direction, had not yet reached the building.
A croAvd of the insurgents had taken possession of the
house, and shoAved themselves at the AvindoAVS and on the
roof. I could see the glare of torches and the gleam of
pikes and axes, Avhile a brisk Are of musketry Avas kept
up on the fort. Another strong body of negroes had
placed ladders against the Avails of the fort and strove to
take it by assjyilt, though many fell under the Avell-
directed fire of the defenders. These black men, ahvays
380
nA^'S OF ICELAND.
returning to the charge after each repulse, looked like a
swarm of ants endeavoring to scale the shell of a tortoise,
and shaken off by each movement of the sluggish reptile.
We reached the outworks of the fort, our eyes fixed
upon the banner which still floated above it. I called
upon my men to remember that their wives and children
were shut up within those walls, and urged them to fly
to their rescue. A general cheer was the reply, and form¬
ing column I was on the point of giving the order to charge,
when a loud yell was heard; a cloud of smoke enveloped
the fort and for a time concealed it from our sight; a
roar was heard like that of a furnace in full blast, and as
the smoke cleared away we saw a red flag floating proudly
above the dismantled walls. All was over. Fort Galifet
was in the hands of the insurgents.
CHAPTER XV.
I CANNOT tell you what my feelings were^ at this ter¬
rible spectacle. The fort was taken, its defenders slain,
and twenty families massacred ; but I confess, to my shame,
that I thought not of this. Marie was lost to me,—lost,
after having been made mine but a few brief hours before;
lost, perhaps, through my fault, for had I not obeyed the
orders of my uncle in going to Cap I should have been by
her side to defend her, or at least to die with her. These
thoughts raised my grief to madness, for my despair was
born of remorse.
However, my men were maddened at the sight. "With
a shout of " Revenge!" with sabers between their teeth
and pistols in either hand, they burst into the ranks of
the victorious insurgents. Although far superior in
numbers, the negroes fled at their approach ; but we could
see them on our right and left, before and behind us,
slaughtering the colonists, and casting fuel on the flames.
Our rage was increased by their cowardly conduct.
Thaddeus, covered with wounds, made his escape
through a postern gate. " Captain," said he," your Pierrot
is a sorcerer,—an obi as these infernal negroes call him ;
a devil, I say. We were holding our position, you were
coming up fast; all seenied saved,—when by some means.
At this instant a tali black burst tlrruugh a blazing fence carrying
in his arms a young woman who shrieked and struggled. Page 381.
Hans of Iceland.
nra-JAi!GAL.
-38!
which I do not know, he penetrated into the fort, and
there was an end of us. As for your uncle and Madame—"
" Marie!" interrupted I, " where is Marie ? "
At this instant a tall black burst through a blazing
fence, carrying in his arms a young woman who shrieked
and struggled : it was Marie, and the negro was Pierrot!
" Traitor!" cried I, and fired my pistol at him ; one of
of the rebels threw himself in the way, and fell dead.
Pierrot turned, and addressed a few words to me which
I did not catch; and then grasping his prey tighter, he
dashed into a mass of burning sugar-canes. A moment
afterwards a huge dog jiassed me, carrying in his mouth
a cradle in which lay my uncle's youngest child. Trans¬
ported with rage, I fired my second pistol at him ; but it
missed fire.
Like a madman I followed on their tracks; but my
night march, the hours that I had spent without taking
rest or food, my fears for Marie, and the sudden fall from
the height of happiness to the depth of misery, had worn
me out. After a few steps I staggered, a cloud seemed to
come over me, and I fell senseless.
CHAPTER XVI.
Whex I recovered my senses I found myself in my
uncle's ruined house, supported in the arms of my faith¬
ful Thaddeus, who gazed upon me with an expression of
the deepest anxiety. " Victory!" exclaimed he, as he
felt my pulse begin to beat; " victory! the negroes are in
aill retreat and my captain has come to life again ! "
I interrupted his exclamations of joy by putting the
only question in Avhich I had any interest: " Where is
Marie ? " I had not yet collected my scattered ideas: I
felt my misfortune without the recollection of it.
At my question Thaddeus hung his head. Then my
memory returned to me, and like a hideous dream I re¬
called once more the terrible nuptial day, and the tall
negro bearing away Marie through the flames. The re¬
bellion which had broken out in the colony caused the
whites to look onthe blacks as their mortal enemies, and
made me see in Pierrot—the good, the generous, and the
382
IIANSf OF ICELAND.
devoted, who owed his life three times to me—a monster
of ingratitude and a rival. The carrj'ing oft' my wife on
the very night of our nuptials proved too plainly to me
what I had at fiist only suspected; and I now knew that
the singer of the wood was the wretch who had torn my
wife from me. In a few hours how great a change had
taken place!
Thaddeus told me that he had vainly pursued Pierrot
and his dog when the negroes, in spite of their numbers,
retired; and that the destruction of my uncle's property
still continued, without the possibility of its being arrested.
I asked what had become of my uncle. He took my hand
in silence and led me to a bed, the curtains of which he
drew. My unhappy uncle was there, stretched upon his
blood-stained couch, with a dagger driven deeply into his
heart. By the tranquil expression of his face it was easy
to see that the blow had been struck during his sleep.
The bed of the dwarf Habibrah, who always slept at
the foot of his master's couch, was also profusely stained
with gore, and the same crimson traces could be seen
upon the laced coat of the poor fool, cast upon the floor a
few paces from the bed. I did not hesitate for a moment
in believing that the dwarf had died a victim to his affec¬
tion for my uncle, and that he had been murdered by his
comrades, perhaps in the effort to defend his master. I
reproached myself bitterly for the prejudice which had
caused me to form so erroneous an estimate of the char¬
acters of Pierrot and Habibrah ; and of the tears I shed at
the tragic fate of my uncle, some were dedicated to
the end of the faithful fool. By my orders his body
was carefully searched for, but all in vain; and I imagined
that the negroes had cast the body into the flames. I
gave instructions that in the funeral service over my
uncle's remains prayers should be said for the repose of
the soul of the devoted Habibrah.
CHAPTER XVII.
Fort Galifet had been destroyed, our house was in
ruins ; it was useless to linger there any longer, so that
evening I returned to Cap. On my arrival there I was
BUG-.TAUGAL.
383
seized with a severe fever. The effort that I had made
to overcome my despair had been too violent; the spring
had been bent too far and had snapped. Delirium came
on. My broken hopes, my profound love, my lost future,
and, above all, the torments of jealousy made my brain
reel. It seemed as if fire flowed in my veins; my head
seemed ready to burst, and my bosom was filled with
rage. I pictured to myself Marie in the arras of another
lover, subject to the power of a master, of a slave, of
Pierrot! They told me afterwards that I sprang from
my bed, and that it took six men to prevent me from
dashing out my brains against the wall. Why did I not
die then?
The crisis, however, passed. The doctors, the care and
attention of Thaddeus, and the latent powei's of youth
conquered the malady: would that it had not done so! At
the end of ten days I was sufficiently recovered to lay
aside grief, and to live for vengeance.
Hardly arrived at a state of convalescence, I went to
M. de Blanchelande, and asked for employment. At
first he wished to give me the command of some fortified
post, but I begged him to attach me to one of the flying
columns, which from time to time were sent out to sweep
those districts in which the insurgents had congregated.
Cap had been hastily put in a position of defense, for
the revolt had made terrible progress, and the negroes
of Port au Prince had begun to show symptoms of dis¬
affection. Biassou was in command of the insurgents
at Lumbe, Dondon, and Acul; Jean Frangois had pro¬
claimed himself generalissimo of the rebels of Mari-
barou ; Bouckmann, whose tragic fate afterwards gave him
a certain celebrity, with his brigands ravaged the plains
of Limonade; and lastly, the bands of Morne-Rouge had
elected for their chief a negro called Bug-Jargal.
If report was to be believed, the disposition of this
man contrasted very favorably with the ferocity of the
other chiefs. While Bouckmann and Biassou invented
' a thousand different methods of death for such prisoners
as fell into their hands, Bug-Jargal was always ready to
supply them with the means of quitting the island. M.
Colas de Maijue and eight other distinguished colonists
were by his orders released from the terrible death of
084
nANH OF ICELAND.
the wheel to which Bouckmann had condemned them;
and many other instances of his humanity were cited,
which I have not time to repeat.
My hoped-for vengeance, however, still appeared to
be far removed. I could hear nothing of Pierrot. The
insurgents commanded by Biassou continued to give us
trquble at Cap; they had once even endeavored to take
position on a hill that commanded the town, and had
only been dislodged by the battery from the citadel be¬
ing directed upon them. The governor had therefore
determined to drive them into the interior of the island.
The militia of Acul, of Lumbe, of Ouanaminte, and of
Maribarou, joined with the regiment of Cap and the
Red and Yellow Dragoons, formed one army of attack;
while the corps of volunteers under the command of the
merchant Poncignon, with the militia of Dondon and
Quartier-Dauphin, composed the garrison of the town.
The governor desired first to free himself from Bug-
Jargal, whose incursions kept the garrison constantly
on the alert; and he sent against him the militia of
Ouanaminte and a battalion of the regiment of Cap.
Two days afterwards the expedition returned, having
sustained a severe defeat at the hands of Bug-Jargal.
The governor, however, determined to persevere, and a
fresh column was sent out with fifty of the Yellow Dra¬
goons and four hundred of the militia of Maribarou.
This second expedition met with even less success than
the first. Thaddeus, who had taken part in it, was in
a violent fury, and upon his return vowed vengeance
against the rebel chief Bug-Jargal.
[A tear glistened in the eyes of D'Auverney; he
crossed his arms on his breast, and appeared to be for
a few moments plunged in a melancholy reverie. At
length he continued.]
CHAPTER XVIII.
The news had reached us that Bug-Jargal had left-
Morne-Rouge, and was moving through the mountains
to effect a junction with the troops of Biassou. The
governor could not conceal his delight. " We have
BUG-JATtGAL.
them !" cried he, rubbing his hands. " They are in our
power!"
By the next morning the colonial forces had marched
some four miles to the front of Cap. At our approach
the insurgents hastily retired from the positions which
they had occupied at Port-Mayat and Fort Galifet, and
in which they had planted siege guns that they had cap¬
tured in one of the batteries on the coast. The governor
was triumphant, and by his orders we continued our
advance. As we passed through the arid plains and the
ruined plantations, many a one cast an eager glance in
search of the spot which was once his home ; but in too
many cases the foot of tlie destroyer had left no traces
behind. Sometimes our march was interrupted, by the
conflagration having spread from the lands under culti¬
vation to the virgin forests.
In these regions, where the land is untilled and the
vegetation abundant, the burning of a forest is accom¬
panied with many strange phenomena. Far off, long
before the eye can detect the cause, a sound is heard
like the rush of a cataract over opposing rocks; the
trunks of the trees flame out with a sudden crash, the
branches crackle, and the roots beneath the soil all con¬
tribute to the extraordinary uproar. The lakes and the
marshes in the interior of the forests boil with the heat.
The hoarse roar of the coming flame stills the air, caus¬
ing a dull sound, sometimes increasing and sometimes
diminishing in intensity as the conflagration sweeps on
or recedes. Occasionally a glimpse can he caught of a
clump of trees surrounded by a belt of fire, but as yet
untouched by the flames; then a narrow streak of fire
curls round the stems, and in another instant the whole
becomes one mass of gold-colored fire. Then uprises a
column of smoke, driven here and there by the breeze;
it takes a thousand fantastic forms,—spreads itself out,
diminishes in an instant; at one moment it is gone, in
another it returns with greater density; then all be¬
comes a thick black cloud, with a fringe of sparks; a
terrible sound is heard, the sparks disappear, and the
smoke ascends, disappearing at last in a mass of red
ashes, which «ink down slowly upon the blackened
ground.
2.1?
38G
HAXS OF ICELAXD.
CHAPTER XIX.
On the evening of the third day of our march, we en¬
tered the ravines of Grande-Riviere; we calculated that
the negro army was some twenty leagues off in the moun¬
tains.
^Ve pitched our camp on a low hill, which appeared
to have been used for the same purpose before, as the
grass had been trodden down and the brushwood cut
away. It was not a judicious position in a strategical
point of view, but we deemed ourselves perfectly secure
from attack. The hill was commanded on all sides by
steep mountains clothed with thick forests,—their pre¬
cipitous sides having given these mountains the name
of the Dompte-Mulatre. The Grande-Riviere flowed
behind our camp, which being confined within steep
banks was just about here very deep and rapid. Both
sides of the river were hidden with thickets, through
which nothing could be seen. The waters of the stream
itself were frequently concealed by masses of creeping
plants, hanging from the branches of the flowering
maples which had sprung at intervals in the jungle,
crossing and recrossing the stream, and forming a tangled
network of living verdure. From the heiglats of the
adjacent hills this mass of verdure appeared like a mead¬
ow still fresh with dew, while every now and then a
dull splash could be heard as a teal plunged through the
flower-decked curtain, and showed in which direction
the river lay. By degrees the sun ceased to gild the
crested peaks of the distant mountains of Doiidon; lit¬
tle by little darkness spread its mantle over the camp,
and the silence was only broken by the cry of the night-
bird, or by the measured tread of the sentinels.
Suddenly the dreaded war-songs of " Oua-Nasse " and
of " The Camp of the Great Meadow " were heard above
our heads; the palms, the acomas, and the cedars, which
crowned the summit of the rocks, burst into, fianies,
and the lurid light of the conflagration showed us
numerous bands of negroes and mulattoes, whose copper-
hued skins glowed red in the firelight upon the neigh¬
boring hills. It was the army of Biassou.
BUG-JARGAL.
387
The danger was imminent. The officers, aroused from
their sleep, endeavored to rally their men. The drum
beat the " Assembly," while the bugles sounded the
" Alarm." Our men fell in hurriedly and in confusion;
but the insurgents, instead of taking advantage of our
disorder, remained motionless, gazing upon us, and con¬
tinuing their song of " Oua-Nasse."
A gigantic negro appeared alone on one of the peaks
that overhung the Grande-Riviere : a flame-colored plume
floated on his head, and he held an ax in his right hand
and a blood-red banner in his left. I recognized Pierrot.
Had a carbine been within my reach I should have fired
at him, cowardly although the act might have been. The
negro repeated the chorus of " Oua-Nasse," planted his
standard on the highest portion of the rock, hurled his
ax into the midst of our ranks, and plunged into the
stream. A feeling of regret seized me; I had hoped to
have slain him with my own hand.
Then the negroes began to hurl huge masses of rocks
upon us, while showers of bullets and flights of arrows
were poured upon our camp. Our soldiers, maddened
at being unable to reach their adversaries, fell on all
sides, crushed by the rocks, riddled with bullets, and
transfixed by arrows. The army was rapidly falling
into disorder. Suddenly a terrible noise came from the
center of the stream.
The Yellow Dragoons, who had suffered most from
the shower of rocks, had conceived the idea of taking
refuge under the thick roof of creepers which grew over
the river. It was Thaddeus who had at first discovered
this—
Here the narrative was suddenly interrupted.
CHAPTER XX.
More than a quarter of an hour had elapsed since
Thaddeus, his arm in a sling, had glided into the tent
without any of the listeners noticing his arrival, and
taking up his pbsition in a remote corner had by occasional
gestures expressed the interest that he took in his cap-
388
BAIfS OF ICELAND.
tain's narrative; but at last, considering that this direct
allusion to himself ought not to be permitted to pass
without some acknowledgment on his part, he stammered
out,—
" You are too good. Captain!"
A general burst of laughter followed this speech, and
D'Auverney, turning towards him, exclaimed severely:
" What, Thaddeus, you here ? And your arm ? "
On being addressed in so unaccustomed a tone, the
features of the old soldier grew dark; he quivered, and
threw back his head, as though to restrain the tears
which seemed to struggle to his eyes. " I never
thought," said he, in a low voice, "that you. Captain,
could have omitted to say thou when speaking to your
old sergeant."
"Pardon me, old friend," answered the captain, quick¬
ly; "I hardly knew what I said. Thou wilt pardon me,
wilt thou not ? "
The tears sprang to the sergeant's eyes in spite of his
efforts to repress them. " It is the third time," remarked
he —" but these are tears of joy."
Peace was made, and a short silence ensued.
" But tell me, Thaddeus, why hast thou quitted the
hospital to come here ? " asked D'Auverney, gently.
"It was—with your permission. Captain—to ask if I
should put the laced saddle-cloth on the charger for
to-morrow."
Henri laughed. " You would have been wiser, Thad¬
deus, to have asked the surgeon-major if you should put
two more pieces of lint on your arm," said he.
" Or to ask," continued Paschal, " if you might take a
glass of wine to refresh yourself. At any rate, here is
some brandy; taste it,—it will do you good, my brave
sergeant."
Thaddeus advanced, saluted, and apologizing for taking
the glass with his left hand, emptied it to the health of
the assembled company : "You had got. Captain, to the
moment when—yes, I remember, it was I who proposed
to take shelter under the creepers, to prevent our men
being smashed by the rocks. Our officer, who did not
know how to swim, was afraid of being drowned, and, as
was natural, was dead agamst it until he saw—with your
BUG-JARGAL.
389
permission, gentlemen—a great rock fall on the creepers
without being able to get through them. ' It is better
to die like Pharaoh than like Saint Stephen," said he;
" for we are not saints, and Pharaoh was a soldier like
ourselves.' The officer was a learned man, you see.
And so he agreed to my proposal, on the condition that I
should first try the experiment myself. Off I went; I
slid down the bank and caught hold of the roof of the
creepers, when all of a sudden some one took a pull at
my legs. I struggled, I shouted for help, and in a
minute I received half-a-dozen saber-cuts. Down came
the dragoons to help me, and there was a nice little
skirmish under the creepers. The blacks of Morne-Rouge
had hidden themselves there, never for a moment think¬
ing that we should fall right on the top of them. This
was not the right time for fishing, I can tell you„ We
fought, we swore, we shouted. They had nothing par¬
ticular on, and were able to move about in the water more
easily than we were ; but, on the other hand, our sabers
had less to cut through. We swam with one hand and
fought with the other. Those who could not swim, like
my captain, hung on to the creepers, while the negroes
pulled them by the legs.
" In the midst of the hullabaloo I saw a big negro fight¬
ing like Beelzebub against five or six of ours. I swam
up to him, and recognized Pierrot, otherwise called Bug
— But I mustn't tell that yet, must I, Captain ? Since
the capture of the fort I owed him a grudge, so I took him
hard and fast by the throat; he was going to rid hiniself
of me by a thrust of his dagger, when he recognized me,
and gave himself up at once. That was very unfortunate,
was it not. Captain ? For if he had not surrendered, he
would not— But you will know that later on, eh ?
When the blacks saw that he was taken they made a rush
at me to get him off ; when Pierrot, seeing no doubt that
they would all lose their lives, said some gibberish or
other, and in the twinkling of an eye they plunged into
the water, and were out of sight in a moment. This fight
in the water would have been pleasant enough if I had
not lost a finger and wetted ten cartridges, and if the
poor man—but #t was to be, was it Jiot, Captain ? "
And the sergeant respectfully placed the back of his
300
HAXS OF ICELAND.
hand to his forage-cap, and then raised it to heaven with
the air of an inspired prophet.
D'Auverney was violently agitated. " Yes," cried he,
" thou art right, my old Thaddeus; that night was a fatal
night for me!"
He would have fallen into one of his usual reveries had
they not urgently pressed him to conclude his story.
After a while he continued.
CHAPTER XXI.
While the scene which Thaddeus has just described
was passing behind the camp, I had succeeded, by aid of
the brushwood, with some of my men in climbing the
opposite hills until we had reached a point called Peacock
Peak, from the brilliant tints of the mica which coated
the surface of the rock.
From this position, which was opposite a rock covered
with negroes, we opened a withering fire. The insur¬
gents, who wei'e not so well armed as we were, could not
reply warmly to our volleys, and in a short time began to
grow discouraged. We redoubled our efforts, and our
enemies soon evacuated the neighboring rocks, first hurl¬
ing the dead bodies of their comrades upon our army, the
greater proportion of which was still drawn up on the
hill. Then we cut down several trees, and binding the
trunks together with fibers of the palm, we improvised a
bridge, and by it crossed over to the deserted positions of
the enemy, and thus managed to secure a good post of
vantage. This operation completely quenched the cour¬
age of the rebels. Our fire continued. Shouts of grief
arose from them, in which the name of Bug-Jargal was
frequently repeated. Many negroes of the army of
Morne-Rouge appeared on the rock upon which the blood-
red banner still floated; they prostrated themselves be¬
fore it, tore it from its resting-place, and then precipitated
it and themselves into the depths of the Grande-Riviere.
This seemed to signify that their chief was either killed
or a prisoner.
Our confidence had now risen to such a pitch that I
resolved to drive them from their last position at the
BUG-JAHGAL.
391
point of the bayonet, and at the head of my men I dashed
into the midst of the negroes. The soldiers were about
to follow me across the temporary bridge that I had
caused to be thrown from peak to peak, when one of the
rebels with a blow of his ax broke the bridge to atoms,
and the ruins fell into the abyss with a terrible noise.
I turned my head : in a moment I was surrounded, and
seized by six or seven negroes, who disarmed me in a
moment. I struggled like a lion, but they bound me with
cords made of bark, heedless of the hail of bullets that
* my soldiers poured upon them. My despair was some¬
what soothed by the cries of victory which I heard from
our men, and I soon saw the negroes and rnulattoes as¬
cending the steep sides of the rocks with all the precipi¬
tation of fear, uttering cries of terror.
My captors followed tlieir example. The strongest
among them placed me on their shoulders, and carried me
in the direction of the forest, leaping from rock to rock
with the agility of wild goats. The flames soon ceased to
light the scene, and it was by the pale rays of the moon
that we pursued our course.
CHAPTER XXII.
After passing through jungles and crossing many a
torrent, we arrived in a valley situated in the higher part
of the hills, of a singularly wild and savage appearance.
The spot was absolutely unknown to me. The valley
was situated in the heart of the hills, in what is called
the "double mountains." It was a large green plain,
imprisoned by walls of bare rock, and dotted with clumps
of pines and palm-trees. The cold, which at this height
is very severe, was increased by the morning air,-the day
having just commenced to break; but the valley was still
plunged in darkness, and was only lighted by flashes
from the negroes' flres. Evidently this spot was their
headquarters; the shattered remains of their army had
begun to reassemble, and every now and then bands of
negroes and rnulattoes arrived, uttering groans of distress
and cries of jage. New fires were .speedily lighted, and
the camp began to increase in size.
392
HANS OF ICELAND.
The negro whose prisoner I was had placed me at the
foot of an oak, whence I surveyed this strange spectacle
Avith entire carelessness. The black had bound me with
his belt to the trunk of the tree, against which I was
leaning, and carefully tightening the knots in the cords
which impeded my movements, he placed on my head
his own red woolen cap, as if to indicate that I was his
property ; and after making sure that I could not escape
or be carried off by others, he Avas preparing to leave me,
when I determined to address him; and speaking in the
Creole dialect, I asked him if he belonged to the band of
Dondon, or of Morne-Rouge. He stopped at once, and in
a tone of pride replied, " Morne-Rouge." Then an idea
entered my head. I had often heard of the generosity of
the chief Bug-Jargal; and though I had made up my
mind that death would soon end all my troubles, the
thought of the tortures that would inevitably precede it
should I fall into the hands of Biassou filled me with hor¬
ror. All I wanted was to be put to death Avithout tor¬
ment. It was perhaps a Aveakness, but I believe that the
mind of man ever revolts at such a death. I thought
then that if I could be taken from Biassou, Bug-Jargal
might give me what I desired,—a soldier's death. I
therefore asked the negro of Morne-Rouge to lead me to
Bug-Jargal.
He started: " Bug-Jargal!" he repeated, striking on
his forehead in anguish; then, as if rage had suddenly
overtaken him, he shook his fist, and shouting, " Biassou,
Biassou ! " he left me hastily.
The mingled rage and grief of the negro recalled to my
mind the events of the day, and the certainty we had ac¬
quired of either the death or capture of the chief of the
band of Morne-Rouge. I felt that all hope was OA'er, and
resigned myself to the threatened vengeance of Biassou.
CHAPTER XXIII.
A GROUP of negresses came near the tree to which I was
fastened, and lit a fire. By the numerous bracelets of
bine, red, and violet glass which ornamented their arms
and ankles ; by the rings Avhich Aveighed down their ears
BUG-JARGAL.
393
and adorned their toes and fingers; by the amulets on
their bosoms and the collar of charms suspended round
their necks; by the aprons of variegated feathers which
were their sole coverings,—I at once recognized them as
(jriotes. You are perhaps ignorant that among the Afri¬
can blacks there exists a certain class with a rude talent
for poetry and improvisation, which approaches closely
to madness. These unhappy creatures, wandering from
one African kingdom to another, are in these barbarian
countries looked upon in the same light as the minstrels
of England, the minnesingers of Germany, and the trou¬
badours of France. They are called " griots," and their
wives " griotes." The griotes accompany the barbaric
songs of their husbands with lascivious dances, and form
a grotesque parody on the naiitch girls of India and the
almes of Egypt.
It was a group of these women who came and sat down
near me, with their legs crossed under them according to
their custom, and their hideous faces lighted up by the
red light of a fire of withered branches. When they had
formed a complete circle they all joined hands, and the
eldest, who had a heron's plume stuck in her hair, began
to exclaim, " Ouanga! " I at once understood that they
were going through one of their performances of pre¬
tended witchcraft. Then the leader of the band, after a
moment's silence, plucked a look of hair from her head and
threw it into the fire, crying out these Avords, "Male o
guiab," Avhich in the jargon of the Creoles means, " I
shall go to the devil." All the griotes imitated their
leader, and throwing locks of their hair in the fire, re¬
peated gravely, "Male o guiab." This strange invoca¬
tion, and the extraordinary grimaces that accompanied it,
caused me to burst into one of those hysterical fits of
laughter which so often seize on one even at the most
serious moments. It was in vain that I endeavored to
restrain it,—it would have vent; and this laugh, which
escaped from so sad a heart, brought about a gloomy and
terrifying scene.
Disturbed in their incantations, the negresses sprang
to their feet. Until then they had not noticed me, but
now they rushed close up to me, screaming " Blanco,
Blanco! " I liave never seen so hideous a collection of
394
HAyS OF ICELAND.
faces, contorted as they were with passion, their white
teeth gleaming, and their eyes almost starting from their
heads. They were, I believe, about to tear me in pieces,
when the old woman with the heron's plume on her head
stopped them with a sign of her hand, and exclaimed
seven times, " Zote corde ? " (" Do you agree ? ") The
wretched creatures stopped at once, and to my surprise
tore off their feather aprons, which they flung upon the
ground, and commenced the lascivious dance which the
negroes call " La chica."
This dance which should only consist of attitudes and
movements expressive of gaiety and pleasure, assumed a
very different complexion when performed by these
naked sorceresses. In turn, each of them would place
her face close to mine, and with a frightful expression of
countenance would detail the horrible punishment that
awaited the white man who had profaned the mysteries
of their Ouanga. I recollected that savage nations had a
custom of dancing round the victims that they were
about to sacrifice, and I patiently awaited the conclusion
of the performance which 1 knew would be sealed with
my blood; and yet I could not repress a shudder as I per-,
ceived each griote, in strict unison with the time, thrust
into the fire the point of a sal)er, the blade of an ax, a
long sail-maker's needle, a pair of pincers, and the teeth
of a saw.
The dance was approaching its conclusion, and the
instruments of torture were glowing red with heat. At
a signal from the old woman, each negress in turn with¬
drew an implement from the fire, while those who had
none furnished themselves with a blazing stick. Then
I understood clearly what my punishment was to be,
and that in each of the dancers I should find an execu¬
tioner. Again the word of command was given, and
the last figure of the dance was commenced. I closed
my eyes that I might not see the frantic evolutions of
these female demons, who in measured cadence clashed
the red-hot weapons over their heads. A dull, clinking
sound followed, while the sparks flew out in myriads.
I waited, nerving myself for the moment when I should
feel my flesh quiver in agony, my bones calcine, and
my muscles writhe under the burning tortures of the
nva-JAuoAL.
nippers and the saws. It was an awful moment. For¬
tunately it did not last long.
In the distance I heard the voice of the negro whose
l)risoner I was, shouting, " Que haceis, mujeres, ne
demonio, que haceis alii, devais mi prisonero ?" I
opened my eyes again ; it was already broad daylight.
The negro hurried towards me, gesticulating angrily.
The griotes paused, but they seemed less influenced by
the threats of my captor than by the presence of a strange-
looking person by whom the negro was accompanied.
It was a very stout and very short man,—a species of
dwarf,—whose face was entirely concealed by a white
veil, pierced with three holes for the eyes and mouth.
The veil hung down to his shoulders, and displayed a
hairy, copper-hued breast, upon which was hung by a
golden chain the mutilated sun of a monstrance. The
cross-hilt of a heavy dagger peeped from a scarlet belt,
which also supported a kind of petticoat striped with
green, yellow, and black, the hem of which hung down
to his large and ill-shaped feet. Ilis arms, like his
breast, were bare ; he carried a white staff, and a rosary
of amber beads was suspended from his belt, in close
proximity to the handle of his dagger. His head was
surmounted with a pointed cap adorned with bells; and
when he came close I was not surprised in recognizing
in it the gorra of Habibrah, and among the hieroglyphics
with which it was covered I could see many spots of
gore: without doubt, it was the blood of the faithful
fool. These blood-staiiis gave me fresh proofs of his
death, and awakened in me once again a fresh feeling of
regret for his loss.
Directly the griotes recognized the wearer of Habi-
brah's cap, they cried out all at once. " The Obi! " and
prostrated themselves before him. I guessed at once
that this was a sorcerer attached to Biassou's force.
" Basta, basta" (" enough "), said he, in a grave and
solemn voice, as he came close up to them. " Devais el
prisonero de Biassou." (" Let the prisoner be taken to
Biassou.")
All the negresses leaped to their feet and cast their im¬
plements o^torture on one side, put on their aprons, and
at a gesture of the Obi fled like a cloud of grasshoppers.
396
HANS OF ICELAND.
At this instant the glance of the Obi fell upon me.
He started back a pace, and half waved his white staff
in the direction of the retiring griotes, as if he wished
to recall them; then muttering between his teeth the
word "Maldicho" ("accursed"), he whispered a few
words in the ear of the negro, and crossing his arms
retired slowly, apparently buried in deep thought.
CHAPTER XXIV.
My captor informed me that Biassou had asked to see
me, and that in an hour I should be brought before him.
This, I calculated, gave me another hour in which to live.
Until that time had elapsed, I allowed my glances to
wander over the rebel camp, the singular appearance of
which the daylight permitted me to observe.
Had I been in any other position, I should have
laughed heartily at the ostentatious vanity of the ne¬
groes, who Avere nearly all decked out in fragments of
clerical and military dress, the spoils of their victims.
The greater portion of these ornaments were not new,
consisting of torn and blood-stained rags. A gorget
could often be seen shining over a stole, while an epaulet
looked strange Avhen contrasted with a chasuble. To
make amends for former years of toil, the negroes now
maintained a state of utter inaction; some of them slept
exposed to the rays of the sun, their heads close to a
burning fire ; others, with eyes that Avere sometimes full
of listlessness, and at others blazed Avith fury, sat chant¬
ing a monotonous air at the doors of their aJoujKis,—a
species of hut with conical roofs somewhat resembling
our artillery tents, but thatched with palm or banana
leaves. Their black or copper-colored Avives, aided by
the negro children, prepared the food for the fighting-
men. I could see them stirring up Avith long forks,
ignames, bananas, yams, peas, cocus and maize, and
other vegetables indigenous to the country, Avhich were
boiling Avith joints of pork, tui'tle and dog in tlie great
boilers stolen from the dwellings of the planters. In
the distance, on the outskirts of the camp, the griots and
griotes formed large circles round the fires, and the wind
BUG-JAnOA L.
397
.every now and then brought to my ears strange frag¬
ments of their barbaric songs, mingled with notes from
their tambourines and guitars. A few videttes posted on
the high ground watched over the headquarters of
General Biassou,—the only defense of which in case of
attack was a circle of wagons filled with plunder and
ammunition. These black sentries posted on the sum¬
mits of the granite pyramids, with which the valley
bristled, turned about like the weathercocks in Gothic
spires, and with all the strength of their lungs shouted
one to the other the cry of " Nada, nada !" (" Nothing,
nothing!") which showed that the camp was in full
security. Every now and then groups of negroes, in¬
spired by curiosity, collected round me, but all looked
upon me with a threatening expression of countenance.
CHAPTER XXV.
At length an escort of negro soldiers, very fairly
equipped, arrived. The negro whose property I ap¬
peared to be unfastened me from the oak to which I was
bound, and handed me over to the escort, receiving in
exchange a bag full of piastres. As he lay upon the grass
counting them with every appearance of delight, I was
led away by the soldiers. My escort wore a uniform of
coarse cloth, of a reddish-brown color, with yellbw
facings; their head-dress was a Spanish cap called a
montera, ornamented with a large red cockade Instead
of a cartouche case, they had a species of game-bag slung
at their sides. Their arms were a heavy musket, a
saber, and a dagger. I afterwards learned that these men
formed the body-guard of Biassou.
After a circuitous route through the rows of ajoupas
which were scattered all over the place, I came to a cave
which Nature had hollowed out in one of those masses of
rock with which the meadow was full. A large curtain
of some material from the looms of Thibet, which the
negroes called katchmir, and which is remarkable less for
the brilliancy of its coloring than for the softness of its
material, coifbealed the interior of the cavern from the
vulgar gaze. The entrance was guarded by a double line
398
HANS OF ICELAXn.
of negroes, dressed like those who liad cscortc d ine
thither.
After the countersign had been exchanged with the
sentries who marched backwards and forwards before the
cave, the commander of the escort laised the curtain
sufficiently for me to enter, *and then let it drop behind
me. A copper lamp with six lights, hung by a chain
from the roof of the grotto, cast a flickering light upon
the damp walls. Between the ranks of mulatto soldiers
I perceived a colored man sitting upon a large block of
mahogany, which was partially covered with a carpet
made of parrot's feathers. His dress was of the most
absurd kind. A splendid silk girdle, from which hung
a cross of Saint Louis, held up a pair of common blue
trousers, while a waistcoat of white linen which did not
meet the waistband of the trousers completed the strange
costume. He wore high boots, and a round hat with
a red cockade, and epaulets,—one of gold with silver
stars, like those worn by brigadiers; while the other was
of red worsted, with two copper stars (which seemed to
have been taken from a pair of spuis) fixed upon it,
evidently to render it more worthy of its resplendent
neighbor. A saber and a pair of richly chased pistols
lay by his side. Behind him were two white children
dressed in the costume of slaves, bearing large fans of
peacock feathers.
Two squares of crimson velvet, which seemed to have
been stolen from some church, were placed on either side
of the mahogany block. One of these was occupied by
the Obi who had rescued me from the frenzy of the
griotes. He was seated with his legs crossed under him,
holding in his hand his white wand, and not moving a
muscle: he looked like a porcelain idol in a Chinese
pagoda, but through the holes in his veil I could see his
flashing eyes fixed steadfastly upon mine.
Upon each side of tlie general were trophies of flags,
banners, and pennons of all kinds. Among them I no¬
ticed the white flag with the lilies, the tricolor, and
the banner of Spain; the others were covered unth fancy
devices. I also perceived a large standard entirely black.
At the end of the grotto, I saw a portrait of the mulatto
Ogo who, together with his lieutenant Jean Charanne,
btjg-.tahgal.
300
had been broken on the wheel the year previous for tlie
crime of rebellion. Twenty of his accomplices, blacks
and mulattoes, suffered with him. In this painting Oge,
the son of a butcher at Cap, was represented in the uni¬
form of a lieutenant-colonel, and decorated with the star
of Saint Louis and the Order of Merit of the Lion, which
last he had purchased from the Prince of Limbnrg.
The negro general into whose pi'esence I had been in¬
troduced was short and of vulgar aspect, while his face
showed a strange mixture of cunning and cruelty. After
looking at me for some time in silence, with a bitter
omen on his face, he said,—
" I am Biassou."
I expected this, but I could not hear it from his mouth,
distorted as it was by a cruel smile, without an inward
trembling; yet my face remained unchanged, and 1 made
no reply.
"Well," continued he, in his bad French, "have they
already impaled you, that you are unable to bend before
Biassou, generalissimo of this conquered land, and brig¬
adier of his Most Catholic Majesty ? " (The rebel chiefs
sometimes affected to be acting for the King of France,
sometimes for the Republic, and at others for the King
of Spain.)
I crossed my arms upon my chest, and looked him
firmly in the face.
He again sneered. " Ho, ho ! " said he ; " me pareces
hombre de buen corazon ("you seem a courageous man");
well, listen to my questions. Were you born in the
island ? "
" No, I am a Frenchman."
My calmness irritated him. " All the better; I see by
your uniform that you are an officer. How old are you ? "
« Twenty."
" When were you twenty ? "
To this question, which aroused in me all the recollec¬
tion of my misery, I could not at first find words to reply.
He repeated it imperiously.
" The day upon which Leogri was hung," answered I.
An expression of rage passed over his face as he an¬
swered, " It *is twenty-three days since Leogri was exe¬
cuted. Frenchman, when you meet him this evening
400
TIANS OF ICELAND.
you may tell him fj-om me that you lived twenty-four
days longer than he did. I will spare you for to-day ; I
wish you to tell him of the liberty that his brethren have
gained, and what you have seen at the headquarters of
General Jean Biassou."
Then he ordered me to sit down in one corner between
two of his guards, and with a motion of his hand to some
of his men, who wore the uniform of aides-de-camp, he
said, " Let the Assembly be sounded, that we may inspect
the whole of our troops ; and you, your reverence," he
added, turning to the Obi," put on your priestly vestments,
and perform for our army the holy sacrament of the Mass."
Tire Obi rose, bowed profoundly, and whispered a word
or two in the general's ear.
" What," cried the latter, " no altar! but never mind,
the good Giu has no need of a magnificent temple for
His worship. Gideon and Joshua adored Him before
masses of rock; let us do as they did. All that is re¬
quired is that the hearts should be true. No altar, you
say! why not make one of that great chest of sugar which
we took yesterday from Dubussion's house ?"
This suggestion of Biassou was promptly carried into
execution. In an instant the interior of the cave was ar¬
ranged for a burlesque of the divine ceremony. A pyx
and a monstrance stolen from the parish church of Acul
Avere promptly produced (the very church in which my
nuptials with Marie ■ had been celebrated, and where we
had received Heaven's blessing, which had so soon changed
to a curse). The stolen chest of sugar was speedily made
into an altar and covered with a white cloth, through
which, however, the words "Dubussion and Company for
Nantes " could be plainly perceived.
When the sacred vessels had been placed on the altar,
the Obi perceived that the crucifix was wanting. He
drew his dagger, which had a cross handle, and stuck it
into the wood of the case in front of the pyx. Then with¬
out removing his cap or veil, he threw the eope which
had been stolen from the priest of Acul over his shoulders
and bare chest, opened the silver clasps of the missal from
which the prayers had been read on my ill-fated marriage
day, and turning towards Biassou, Avhose seat was a few
paces from the altar, announced to him that all Avas ready.
BUG-J AEG AL.
401
On a sign from the general the katchmir curtains were
drawn aside, and the insurgent army was seen drawn up
in close column before the entrance to the grotto. Biassou
removed his hat and knelt before the altar.
" On your knees!" he cried, in a loud voice.
" On your knees!" repeated the commander of the
battalions.
The drums were beaten, and all the insurgents fell
upon their knees. I alone refused to move, disgusted at
this vile profanation about to be enacted under my very
eyes; but the two powerful mulattoes who guarded me
pulled my seat from under me, and pressed heavily upon
my shoulders, so that I fell on my knees, compelled to
pay a semblance of respect to this parody of a religious
ceremony. The Obi performed his duties with affected
solemnity, while the two white pages of Biassou officiated
as deacon and sub-deacon. The insurgents, prostrated
before the altar, assisted at the ceremony with the greatest
enthusiasm, the general setting the example.
At the moment of the exaltation of the host, the Obi
raising in his hands the consecrated vessel exclaimed in
his Creole jargon, " Zote cone bon Giu; ce 11 mo fe zote
voer. Blan touye li: touye blan yo toute! " ("You see
your good God ; I am showing Him to you. The white
men killed Him ; kill all the whites! ")
At these words, pronounced in a loud voice, the tones
of which had something in them familiar to my ear, all
the rebels uttered a loud shout, and clashed their weap¬
ons together. Had it not been for Biassou's influence,
that hour would have been my last. To such atrocities
may men be driven who use the dagger for a cross, and
upon whose mind the most trivial event makes a deep
and profound impression.
CHAPTER XXVI.
At the termination of the ceremony the Obi bowed
respectfully to Biassou; then the general rose and, ad¬
dressing me in French, said,—
"We are accused of having no religion. You see it
is a falsehood, and that we are good Catholics."
26
402
77^ .v."? OF ICFLA\n.
I do not know whether he spoke ironically or in good
faith. A few moments later he called for a glass bowl
filled with grains of black maize; on the top he threw
some white maize, then he raised it high in his hand so
that all the army might see it.
« Brothers," cried he, " you are the black maize; your
enemies are the white maize."
With these words he shook the bowl, and in an in¬
stant the white grains had disappeared beneath the
black; and, as though inspired, he cried out, " AVhere are
the white now ? "
The mountains re-echoed with the shouts with which
the illustration of the general was received ; and Biassou
continuing his harangue, mixed up French, Creole dialect,
and Spanish alternately:—
" The season for temporizing has passed; for a long
time we have been as patient as the sheep to whose wool
the whites compare our hair; let us now be as implaca¬
ble as the panthers or the tigers of the countries from
which they have torn us. Force alone can obtain for us
our rights ; and everything can be obtained by those who
use their force without pity. Saint Loup [Wolf] has
two days in the year consecrated to him in the Grego¬
rian calendar, while the Paschal Lamb has but one.
Am not I correct, your reverence ? "
The Obi bowed in sign of corroboration.
" They have come," continued Biassou,—«these ene¬
mies of ours have come as enemies of the regeneration
of humanity ; these whites, tliese planters, these men of
business, veritable devils vomited from the mouth of
hell. They came in the insolence of their pride, in their
fine dresses, their uniforms, their feathers, their magnifi¬
cent arms ; they despised us because we were black and
naked, in their overbearing haughtiness ; they thought
that they could drive us before them as easily as these
peacock feathers disperse the swarms of sandflies and
mosquitoes."
As he uttered these concluding words, he snatched
from the hands of his white slaves one of the large fans,
and waved it over his head with a thousand eccentric
gesticulations. Then he continued :—
" But, my brethren, we burst upon them like fiies
BUG-JARGAL.
403
upon a carcass; they have fallen in their fine uniforms
beneath the strokes of our naked arms, which they be¬
lieved to be without power, ignorant that good wood is
the stronger when the bark is stripped off; and now these
accursed tyrants tremble, and are filled with fear."
A triumphant yell rose in answer to the general's
speech, and all the army repeated, " They are filled with
fear!"
" Blacks, Creoles, and Congos," added Biassou, " venge¬
ance and liberty! Mulattoes, do not be led away by
the temptations of the white men ! Your fathers serve
in their ranks, but your mothers are with us ; besides, ' O
bermanos de mi alma' (' O brethren of my soul') have
they ever acted as fathers to you ? Have they not rather
been cruel masters, and treated you as slaves, because you
had the blood of your mothers in your veins ? While a
miserable cotton garment covered your bodies scorched
by the sun, your cruel fathers went about in straw hats
and nankeen clothes on work-days, and in cloth and
velvet on holidays and feasts. Curses be on their un¬
natural hearts ! But as the holy commandments forbid
you to strike your father, abstain from doing so; but in
the day of battle what hinders you from turning to your
comrade and saying, ' Touyc papa moe, ma touye, quena
tone !' (' Kill my father, and I will kill yours !') Venge¬
ance then, my brethren, and liberty for all men ! This
cry has found an echo in every part of the island; it has
roused Tobago and Cuba. It was Bouckmann, a negro
from Jamaica, the leader of the twenty-five fugitive
slaves of the Blue iMoimtain, who raised the standard of
revolt among us. A glorious victorj^ was the first proof
that he gave of his brotherhood with the negroes of St.
Domingo. Let us follow his noble example, with an
ax in one hand and a torch in the other. No mercy for
the whites, no mercy for the planters! let us massacre
their families, and destroy their plantations! Do not
allow a tree to remain standing on their e.sbates; let us
upturn the very earth itself that it may swallow up our
white oppressoi's ! Courage then, friends and brethren !
we w'll fight them and sweep them from the face of the
earth. We will conquer or die. As victors, we shall
enjoy all the pleasures of life; and if we fall, the saints
404
IIANS OF ICELAND.
are ready to receive us in heaven, where each warrior
will receive a double ration of brandy and a silver piastre
each day!"
This warlike discourse, which to you appears perfectly
ridiculous, had a tremendous effect on the insurgents.
It is true that Biassou's wild gesticulations, the manner
in which his voice rose and fell, and the strange sneer
which every now and then appeared on his lips, im¬
parted to his speech a strange amount of power and fas¬
cination. The skill with which he alluded to those
points that would have the greatest weight with the
negroes added a degree of force which told well with his
audience.
I will not attempt to describe to you the outburst of
determined enthusiasm which the harangue of Biassou
roused among the rebels. There arose at once a discord¬
ant chorus of howls, yells, and shouts. Some beat their
naked breasts, others dashed their clubs and sabers to¬
gether. Many threw themselves on their knees, and
remained in that position as though in rapt ecstasy.
The negresses tore their breasts and arms with their
fish-bone combs. The sounds of drums, tomtoms, gui¬
tars, and tambourines were mingled with the discharge
of firearms. It was a veritable witches' Sabbath.
Biassou raised his hand, and as if by enchantment
the tumult was stilled, and each negro returned to his
place in the ranks in silence. The discipline which
Biassou had imposed upon his equals by the exercise of
his power of will struck me, I may say, with admira¬
tion. All the soldiers of the force seemed to exist only
to obey the wishes of their chief, as the notes of the
harpsichord under the fingers of the musician.
CHAPTER XXVII.
The spectacle of another example of the powers of
fascination and deception now attracted my attention.
This was the healing of the wounded.
The Obi, who in the army performed the double func¬
tions of healer of souls and bodies, began his inspection
BUG-JARGAL.
405
of his patients. He had taken off his sacerdotal robes,
and was seated before a large box in which he kept his
drugs and instruments. He used the latter very rarely,
but occasionally drew blood skilfully enough with a
lancet made of fish-bone; but he appeared to me to use
the knife, which in his hands replaced the scalpel, rather
clumsily. In most cases he contented himself with pre¬
scribing orange-fiower water, or sarsaparilla, and a
mouthful of old rum. His favorite remedy, however,
and one which he said was an infallible panacea for
all ills, was composed of three glasses of red wine, in
which was some grated nutmeg and the yolk of an ^
egg boiled hard; he employed this specific for almost
every malady. You will understand that his knowledge
of medicine was as great a farce as his pretended relig¬
ion ; and it is probable that the small number of cures
that he effected would not have secured the confidence
of the negroes had he not had recourse to all sorts of
mummeries and incantations, and acted as .much upon
their imaginations as upon their bodies. Thus, he
never examined their wounds without performing some
mysterious signs; while at other times he skilfully
mingled together religion and negro superstition, and
would put into their wounds a little fetish stone wrapped
in a morsel of lint, and the patient would credit the stone
with the healing effects of the lint. If any one came to
announce to him the death of a patient, he would an¬
swer solemnly: "I foresaw it; he was a traitor: in the
burning of such and such a house he spared a white
man's life; his death was a judgment,"—and the won¬
dering crowd of rebels applauded him as he thus in¬
creased their deadly hatred for their adversaries.
This impostor, among other methods, employed one
which amused me by its singularity. One of the negro
chiefs had been badly wounded in the last action. The
Obi examined the wound attentively, dressed it as well
as he was able, then, mounting the altar, exclaimed,
" All this is nothing." He then tore two or three leaves
from the missal, burnt them to ashes, and mingling them
with some wine in the sacramental cup, cried to the
wounded man, "Drink! this is the true remedy." The
patient, stupidly fixing his eyes on the impostor, drank,
40G
HANS OF ICELAND.
while the Obi with raised hands seemed to call down
blessings on his head ; and it may be the conviction that
he was healed which brought about his cure.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Another scene in which the Obi also played the prin-
cipal part succeeded to this. The physician had taken
the place of the priest, and the sorcerer now replaced the
physician.
" Listen, men ! " cried the Obi, leaping with incredible
agility upon the improvised altar, and sinking down
with his legs crossed under his striped petticoat,—
" listen. Who will dive into the book of fate ? I can
foretell the future. 'He estudiado la cienca de los
Gitanos' ('I have studied the sciences of the gipsies')."
A crowd of mulattoes and negroes hurriedly crowded up
to him. " One by one," said the Obi, in that voice which
called to my mind some remembrances that I could not
quite collect. " If you come all together, altogether you
will enter the tomb."
They stopped. Just then a colored man dressed in
a white jacket and trousers, with a bandanna handker¬
chief tied round his head, entered the cave. Consterna¬
tion was depicted on his countenance.
" Well, Rigaud," said the general, " what is it ? "
Rigaud, sometimes called General Rigaud, was at the
head of the mulatto insurgents at Lagu,—a man who con¬
cealed much cunning under an appearance of candor,
and cruelty beneath the mask of humanity. I looked
upon him with much attention.
" General," whispered Rigaud, but as I was close to
them I could catch every word, " on the outskirts of the
camp there is a messenger from Jean Frangois who has
brought the news that Bouckmann has been killed in a
battle with the whites under M. de Touzard, and that
his head has been set upon the gates of the town as a
trophy."
" Is that all ? " asked Biassou, his eyes sparkling Avith
delight at learning the diminution of the number of chiefs
and the consequent increase of his own importance.
BUG-J AUG AL.
407
"The emissary of Jean Fran9ois has in addition a
message for you."
" That is all right," replied the general; " but get rid
of this air of alarm, my good Rigaud."
" But," said Rigaud, " do you not fear the effect that
the death of Bouckmann will have on the army ? "
"You wish to appear more simple than you are; but
you shall see what Biassou will do. Keep the messenger
back for a quarter of an hour, and all will go well."
Then he approached the Obi, Avho during this conver¬
sation had been exercising his functions as fortune-teller,
questioning the wondering negroes, examining the lines
on their hands and foreheads, and distributing more or
less good luck according to the size and color of the
piece of money thrown by each negro into a silver-gilt
basin which stood on one side. Biassou whispered a few
words in his ear, and without making any reply the Obi
continued his prophetic observations.
" He," cried the Obi, " who has in the middle of his
forehead a little square or triangular figure will make a
large fortune without work or toil. The figure of three
interlaced on the forehead is a fatal sign; he who has
it will certainly be drowned if he does not carefully avoid
water. Four lines from the top of the nose, and turning
round two by two towards the eyes, announces that you
will be taken prisoner, and for a long time languish in a
foreign prison."
Here the Obi paused. " Friends," continued he, " I
have observed this sign on the forehead of Bug-Jargal,
the brave chief of Morne-Rouge."
These words, which convinced me that Bug-Jargal
had been made prisoner, were followed by a cry of grief
from a band of negroes who wore short scarlet breeches.
They belonged to the band of Morne-Rouge.
Then the Obi began again; " If you have on the right
side of the forehead in the line of the moon a mark re¬
sembling a fork, do not remain idle, and avoid dissipa¬
tion of all kinds. A small mark like the Arabic cipher
3 in the line of the sun betokens blows with a stick."
An old negro here interrupted the magician, and
dragging hitpself to his feet begged him to dress his
wound. He had been wounded in the face, and one
408
HANS OF ICELAND.
of his eyes almost torn from the socket hung upon his
cheek.
The Obi had forgotten him when going through his
patients. Directly, however, he saw him he cried out:
" Round marks on the right side of the forehead in the
line of the moon foretell misfortunes to the sight. My
man, let me see your hand."
"Alas, excellent sir," answered the other, "it is my
eye that I want you to look at."
" Old man," replied the Obi, crossly, " it is not neces¬
sary to see your eye; give me your hand, I say."
The miserable wretch obeyed, moaning, " My eye! my
eye !"
" Good," cried the Obi; " if you see on the line of life
a spot surrounded by a circle you will lose an eye. There
is the mark. You will become blind of an eye."
" I am so already," answered the negro, piteously.
But the Obi had merged the physician in the sorcerer,
and thrusting him roughly on one side continued : " Lis¬
ten, my men. If the seven lines on the forehead are
slight, twisted, and lightly marked, they announce a
short life. He who has between his eyebrows on the
line of the moon the figure of two crossed arrows will be
killed in battle. If the line of life which intersects the
hand has a cross at its junction it foretells death on the
scaffold; and here I must tell you, my brethren," said
the Obi, interrupting himself, " that one of the bravest
defenders of our liberties, Bouckmann, has all these fatal
marks."
At these words all the negroes held their breath, and
gazed on the impostor with glances of stupid admiration.
"Only," continued the Obi, "I cannot reconcile the
two opposing signs, death on the battle-field and also on
the scaffold; and yet my science is infallible."
He stopped, and cast a meaning glance at Biassou, who
whispered something to an officer, who at once quitted
the cavern.
" A gaping mouth," continued the Obi, turning on his
audience a malicious glance, " a slouching carriage, and
arms hanging down hy the side, announces natural stu¬
pidity, emptiness, and want of reasoning powers."
Biassou gave a sneer of delight; at that moment the
BUG-JARGAL.
409
aide-de-camp returned, bringing with him a negro cov¬
ered with mud and dust, whose feet, wounded by the
roots and flints, showed that he had just come off a long
journey. This was the messenger whose arrival Rigaud
had announced. He held in one hand a letter, and in
the other a document sealed with the design of a flaming
heart; round it was a monogram, composed of the letters
J/and iV interlaced, no doubt intended as an emblem of
the union of the free mulattoes and the negro slaves.
Underneath I could read this motto, " Prejudice con¬
quered ; the rod of iron broken ; long live the king!"
This document was a safe conduct given by Jean Fran-
9ois.
The messenger handed his letter to Biassou, who has¬
tily tore it open and perused the contents, then with an
appearance of deep grief he exclaimed, " My brothers!"
All bowed respectfully.
" My brothers, this is a dispatch to Jean Biassou, gen¬
eralissimo of the conquered states, Brigadier-General of
his Catholic Majesty, from Jean Frangois, Grand Ad¬
miral of France, Lieutenant-General of the army of the
King of Spain and the Indies. Bouckmami, chief of the
hundred and twenty negroes of the Blue Mountain,
whose liberty was recognized by the Governor-General
of Belle Combe, has fallen in the glorious struggle of
liberty and humanity against tyranny and barbarism.
This gallant chief has been slain in an action with the
white brigands of the infamous Touzard. The monsters
have cut off his head, and have announced their intention
of exposing it on a scaffold in the main square of the
town of Cap. Vengeance!" '
A gloomy silence succeeded the reading of this dis¬
patch ; but the Obi leaped on his altar, and waving his
white wand, exclaimed in accents of triumph,—
" Solomon, Zerobabel, Eleazar Thaleb, Cardan, Judas
Bowtharicht, Avenoes, Albert the Great, Bohabdil, Jean
de Hagul, Anna Baratio, Daniel Ogromof, Rachel Flintz,
Allornino,—I give you thanks! The science of the
spirits has not deceived me. Sons, friends, brothers,
boys, children, mothers, all of you listen to me. What
was it that I predicted ? The marks on the forehead of
Bouckmann announced that his. life would be a short one,
410
HANS OF ICELAND.
that he would die in battle, and that he would appear on
the scaffold. The revelations of my art have turned
out true to the letter, and those points which seemed
the most obscure are now the most plain. Brethren,
wonder and admire ! "
The panic of the negroes changed during this dis¬
course to a sort of admiring terror. They listened to
the Obi with a species of confidenee mingled with fear,
while the latter, carried away by his own enthusiasm,
walked up and down the sugar-case which presented
plenty of space for his short steps.
A sneer passed over Biassou's face as he addressed the
Obi : ".Your reverence, since you know what is to come,
will you be good enough to tell me the future of Jean
Biassou, Brigadier-General ? "
The Obi halted on the top of his strange altar, which
the credulity of the negroes looked upon as something
divine, and answered, " Venga vuestra merced " ("Come,
your Excellency"). At this moment the Obi was the
most important man in the army ; the military power
bowed to the spiritual.
"Your hand. General," said the Obi, stooping to grasp
it. " Empezo " (" I begin "). " The line of junction equally
marked in its full length promises you riches and hap¬
piness ; the line of life strongly developed announces a
life exempt from ills and a happy old age. Its narrow¬
ness shows your wisdom and your superior talents, as
well as the generosity of your heart; and lastly, I see
what chiromancers cull the luckiest of all signs,—a
number of little wrinkles in the shape of a tree with its
branches extending upwards ; this promises health and
wealth ; it also prognosticates courage. General, it
curves in the direction of the little linger ; this is the
sign of wholesome sevei'ity."
As he said this, the eyes of the Obi glanced at me
through the apertures of his veil, and I fancied that I
could catch a well-kuown voice under the habitual grav¬
ity of his intonation, as he continued,—
" The line of health, marked with a number of small
circles, announces that you will have for the sake of the
cause, to order a number of executions ; divided here by
a balf-uioon, it shows that you will be exposed to great
nra-JAiiGAL.
411
danger from ferocious beasts, that is to say from the
whites, if you do not exterminate them. Tlie line of for¬
tune surrounded, like the line of life, by little branches
rising towards the upper part of the hand, confirms the
position of power and supremacy to which you have been
called ; turning to the right, it is a symbol of your
administrative capacity. The fifth line, that of the
triangle prolonged to the root of the middle finger, prom¬
ises you success in all your undertakings. Let me see
your fingers: the thumb marked with little lines from
the point to the nail shows that you will receive a noble
heritage,—that of the glory of the unfortunate Bouck-
mann, no doubt," added the Obi, in a loud voice. " The
slight swelling at the root of the forefinger, lightly
marked with lines, promises honors and dignities.
The middle finger shows nothing. Your little finger is
covered with lines crossing one another ; you will van¬
quish all your enemies, and rise high above your rivals.
These lines form the cross of Saint Andrew, a mark of
genius aud foresight. I also notice the figure of a circle,
another token of your arrival at the highest power and
dignity. ' Happy the man,' says Eleazar Thaleb, ' who
possesses all these signs. Destiny has its choicest gifts
in store for him, and his fortunate star announces the
talent which will bring him glory.' And now. General,
let me look at your forehead. ' He,' says Rachel Flintz,
of Bohemia, ' who bears on his forehead, on the line of
the sun, a square or a triangular mark, will make a great
fortune.' Here is another prediction : ' If the mark is
on the right, it refers to an important succession ;' that
of Bouckmann is, of course, again referred to. The mark
in the shape of a horseshoe between the eyebrows, on the
line of the moon, means that prompt vengeance will be
taken for insult and tyranny. I have this mark as well
as you."
The curious manner in which the Obi uttered these
words, "I have this mark," attracted my attention.
" The mark of a lion's claw which you have on your
left eyelid is only noticeable among men of undoubted
courage. But to close tbis. General Jean Biassou, your
forehead show# every sign of the most unexampled suc¬
cess, and on it is a combination of lines which form the
413
HANS OF ICELAND.
letter 31, the commencement of the name of the Blessed
Virgin. In whatever part of the forehead, and in what¬
ever line of the face, such a sign apijears, the significa¬
tion is the same,—genius, glory, and power. lie who
bears it will always bring success to whatever cause he
embraces, and those under his command will never have
to regret any loss. He alone is worth all the soldiers
of his army. You, General, are the elect of Fate."
" Thanks, your reverence," said Biassou, preparing to
return to his mahogany throne.
"Stay a moment. General," said the Obi, "I forgot
one last sign : The line of the sun, which is so strongly
marked on your forehead, proves that you understand the
way of the world; that you possess the wish to make
others happy; that you have much liberalitj', and like
to do things in a magnificent manner."
Biassou at once recognized his forgetfulness, and draw¬
ing from his pocket a heavy purse, he threw it into the
plate, so as to prove that the line of the sun never lies.
But this miraculous horoscope of the general had pro¬
duced its effect upon the army. All the insurgents,
who since the news of the death of Bouckmann attached
greater weight than ever to the words of the Obi, lost
their feelings of uneasiness and became violently enthu¬
siastic ; and trusting blindly in their infallible sorcerer
and their predestined chief, they began to shout, « Long
live our Obi! long live our general! "
The Obi and Biassou glanced at each other; and I
almost thought I could hear the stifled laugh of the one
replied to by the sardonic chuckle of the other. I do
not know how it was, but this Obi tormented me dread¬
fully ; I had a feeling that I had seen or heard him be¬
fore, and I made up my mind to speak to him.
■" Ho, Obi, your reverence, doctor, here!" cried I to
him. He turned sharply round. ,« There is some one
here whose lot you have not yet cast,—it is mine."
He crossed his arms over the silver sun that covered
his hairy breast, but he made no reply.
I continued: " I would gladly know what you proph¬
esy with regard to my future, but your worthy comrades
have taken my watch and my purse, and I suppose y(ju
will not give me a specimen of your skill for nothing."
liUG-JATlGAL.
413
He advanced quickly to me, and muttered hoarsely in
my ear. " You deceive yourself; let me see your hand."
I gave it, looking fixedly at him ; his eyes sparkled as
he bent over my hand.
"If the line of life," said he, "is cut by two trans¬
verse lines, it is the sign of immediate death : your life
will be a short one. If the line of health is not in the
center of the hand, and if the line of life and the line
of fortune are united so as to foi-m an angle, a natural
death cannot be looked for; do not, therefore, look for a
natural death! If the bottom of the forefinger has a long
line cutting it, a violent death will be the result; pre¬
pare yourself for a violent death! "
There was a ring of pleasure in his sepulchral voice as
he thus announced my death, but I listened to him with
contempt and indifference.
" Sorcerer," said I, with a disdainful smile, " you are
skilful, for you are speaking of a certainty."
Once more he came closer to me. "You doubt my
science," cried he; " listen, then, once more. The sev¬
erance of the line of the sun on your forehead shows me
that you take an enemy for a friend, and a friend for an
enemy."
These words seemed to refer to the treacherous Pierrot
whom I loved, but who had betrayed me, and to the
faithful Habibrah whom I had hated, and whose blood¬
stained garments attested his fidelity and his devotion.
" What do you say ? " exclaimed I.
" Listen until the end," continued the Obi. " I spoke
of the future ; listen to the past. The line of the moon
on your forehead is slightly curved; that signifies that
your wife has been carried off."
I trembled, and endeavored to spring from my seat,
but my guards held me back.
"You have but little patience," continued the sor¬
cerer; "listen to the end. The little cross that cuts the
extremity of that curve shows me all : your wife was
carried off on the very night of your nuptials."
"Wretch!" cried I, "you know where she is! Who
are you ? "
I strove again to free myself, and to tear away his
veil; but I hacf to yield to numbers and to force, and had
4U
HANS OF ICELAND.
the mortification of seeing the mysterious Obi move away
repeating. " Do you believe me now ? Prepare for im-
mediate death."
CHAPTER XXIX.
As if to draw my attention from the perplexity into
which I had been thrown by the strange scene that had
just passed, a new and more terrible drama succeeded to
the farce that had been played between Biassou and the
Obi. Biassou had again taken his place upon his ma¬
hogany throne, while Rigaud and the Obi were seated on
his right and left; the latter, with his arms crossed on
his breast, seemed to have given himself up to deep
thought. Biassou and Rigaud were chewing tobacco,
and an aide-de-camp had just asked if he should order a
general march past of the forces, when a tumultuous
crowd of negroes, with hideous shouts, arrived at the
entrance of the grotto. They had brought with them
three white prisoners to be judged by Biassou, but what
they desired was easily shown by the cries of " Muerte!
Muerte! " (" Death, death !") the latter, no doubt em¬
anating from the English negroes of Bouckmann's band,
many of whom had by this time arrived to join the French
and Spanish negroes of Biassou.
The general with a gesture of his hand commanded
silence, and ordered the three captives to be brought to
the entrance of the grotto. I recognized two of them
with considerable surprise ; one was the Citizen General
C , that philanthropist who was in correspondence
with all the lovers of the negro race in different parts of
the globe, and who had proposed so cruel a mode of sup¬
pressing the insurrection to the governor. The other
was the planter of doubtful origin, who manifested so
great a dislike to the mulattoes, among whom the whites
insisted on classing him. The third appeared to belong
to a section called " poor whites,"—that is to say, white
men who had to work for their living; he wore a leathern
apron, and his sleeves were turned up to his elbows.
All the prisoners had been taken at different times, en¬
deavoring to hide themselves in the mountains.
BUG-JARGAL.
415
The " poor white " was the first one that was ques¬
tioned.
" Who are you ? " asked Biassou.
" I am Jacques Belin, carpenter to the Hospital of the
Fathers, at Cap."
Surprise and shame struggled for the mastery in the
features of the general. " Jacques Belin! " repeated he,
biting his lips.
"Yes," replied the carpenter; "do you not recognize '
me ? "
" Begin," retorted the general, furiously, " by recog¬
nizing me and saluting me."
"I do not salute my slave" replied the carpenter,
sturdily.
" Your slave, wretch! " cried the general.
"Yes," replied the carpenter; "yes, I was your first
master. You pretend not to recognize me, but remem¬
ber, Jean Biassou, that I sold you for thirty piastres in
the St. Domingo slave-market."
An expression of concentrated rage passed over Bias-
sou's face.
" Well," continued the carpenter, " you appear ashamed
of having worked for me; ought not Jean Biassou to
feel proud of having belonged to Jacques Belin? Your
mother, the old idiot, has often swept out my shop;
but at last I sold her to the major domoof the Hospital of
the Fathers, and she was so old and decrepit that he would
give me only thirty-two livres and six sous for her.
There is my history and yours; but it seems as if the
negroes and the mulattoes are growing proud, and that
you have forgotten the time when you served Master
Jacques Belin, the carpenter of Cap, on your knees."
Biassou listened to him with that sardonic smile which
gave him the appearance of a tiger.
" Good ! " said he. Then turning to the negroes who
had captured Belin, " Get two trestles, two planks, and a
saw, and take this man away. Jacques Belin, carpenter of
Cap, thank me, for you shall have a true carpenter's death."
His sardonic laugh too fully explained the horrible
punishment that he destined for the pride of his former
master; but«racques Belin did not blench, and turning
proudly to Biassou, cried,—
410
JIA^^S OF ICELAND.
" Yes, I ought to thank you, for I bought you for thirty
piastres, and I got work out of you to a much greatel'
amount."
They dragged him away.
CHAPTER XXX.
More dead than alive, the other two prisoners had
witnessed this frightful prologue to their own fate.
Their timid and terrified appearance contrasted with the
courageous audacity of the carpenter; every limb
quivered with affright.
Biassou looked at them one after the other with his
fox-like glance, and, as if he took a pleasure in prolonging
their agony, began a discussion with Rigaud upon the
different kinds of tobacco,—asserting that that of
Havana was only good for manufacturing cigars, while
for snuff he knew nothing better than the Spanish to¬
bacco, two barrels of which Bouckmann had sent him,
being a portion of the plunder of M. Lebattre's stores in
the island of Tortue. Then, turning sharply upon the
Citizen General C , he asked him,—
" What do you think ? "
This sudden address utterly confounded the timid
citizen, and he stammered out, " General, I am entirely
of your Excellency's opinion."
"You flatter me," replied Biassou; "I wantyoi^r opin¬
ion, not mine. Do you know any tobacco that makes
better snuff than that of M. Lebattre's ? "
"No, my lord," answered C , whose evident ter¬
ror greatly amused Biassou.
" ' General,' ' your Excellency,' ' my lord !' you are an
aristocrat."
" Oh, no, certainly not," exclaimed the citizen general.
" I am a good patriot of '91, and an ardent negrophile."
" ' Negrophile'! " interrupted the general; "pray,
what is a ' negrophile' ? "
" It is a friend of the blacks," stammered the citizen.
" It is not enough to be a friend of the blacks; you
must also be a friend of the men of color."
" Men of color is what I should have said," replied
nUG-.TAHGAL.
417
the lover of the bhicks, humbly. " I am mixed up with
all the most famous partisans of the negroes and the
mulattoes—"
Delighted at the opportunity of humiliating a white
man, Biassou again interrupted him: "'Negroes and
mulattoes '! What do you mean, pray ? Do you wish
to insult me by making use of those terms of contempt
nvented by the whites? There are only men of color
ind blacks here,—do you understand that, Mr. Planter ? "
" It was a slip, a bad habit that I picked up iu child¬
hood," answered C . " Pardon me, my lord, I had
no wish to offend you."
" Leave off this my lording business ! I have already
told you that I don't like these aristocratic ways."
C again endeavored to excuse himself, and be¬
gan to stammer out a fresh explanation. " If you knew,
citizen—"
" Citizen, indeed !" cried Biassoii, in affected anger;
" I detest all this Jacobin jargon. Are you by chance a
Jacobin? Remember that you are speaking to the
generalissimo of the king's troops."
The unhappy partisan of the negro race was dum-
founded, and did not know in what terms to address this
man, who equally disdained the titles of " my lord " or
" citizen,"—the aristocratic or republican modes of salu¬
tation. Biassou, whose anger was only assumed, cruelly
enjoyed the predicament in which he had placed C .
" Alas," at last said the citizen general, " you do not
do me justice, noble defender of the unwritten rights of
the larger portion of the human race! "
In his perplexity to hit upon an acceptable mode of
address to a man who appeared to disdain all titles, he
had recourse to one of those sonorous periphrases which
the republicans occasionally substituted for the name
and title of the persons with whom they were in con¬
versation.
Biassou looked at him steadily and said: "You love
the blacks and the men of color ? "
" Do I love them ? " exclaimed the citizen C . " Why,
I correspond with Brissot and—"
Biassou interrupted him with a sardonic laugh. " Ila,
ha! I am glad to find in you so trusty a friend to our
27
nANFi OF ICELAND.
cause; you must, of course, thoroughly detest those
wretched colonists who punished our insurrection by a
series of the most cruel executions ; and you, of course,
think with us that it is not the blacks, but the .whites,
who are the true rebels, since they are in arms against
the laws of nature and humanity ? You must execrate
such monsters!"
" I do execrate them," answered C .
"Well," continued Biassou, "what do you think of a
man who, in his endeavors to crush the last efforts of
the slaves to regain their liberty, placed the heads of
fifty blaek men on each side of the avenue that led to
his house ? "
C grew fearfully pale.
" What do you think of a white man who would pro¬
pose to surround the town of Cap with a circle of negro
heads ? "
" Merey, mercy ! " cried the terrified citizen general.
" Am I threatening you ?" replied Biassou, coldly.
"Let me finish,—a circle of heads that would reach
from Fort Picolet to Cape Caracol. What do you think
of that ? Answer me! "
The words of Biassou, " Do t threaten you ? " had given
a faint ray of hope to C , for he fancied that the
general might have heard of this terrible proposition
■without knowing the author of it; he therefore replied
with all the firmness that he could muster, in order to
remove any impression that the idea was his own :—
" I Consider such a suggestion an atrocious crime."
Biassou chuckled. " Good! And what punishment
should be inflicted on the man who proposed it ? "
The unfortunate C hesitated.
" What 1" cried Biassou, " you hesifsite ! Are you, or
are you not, the friend of the blacks ? "
Of the two alternatives the wretched man chose the
least threatening one, and seeing no hostile light in
Biassou's eyes, he answered in a low voice: " The
guilty person deserves death."
"Well answered," replied Biassou, calmly, throwing
aside the tobacco that he had been chewing. His as¬
sumed air of indifference had completely deceived the
unfortunate lover of the negro race, and he made another
BUG-JARGAL.
419
effort to dissipate any suspicions which might have been
engendered against him.
"No one," cried C , "has a more ardent desire
for your success than I. I correspond with Brissot and
Pruiieau de Pomme-Gouge in France, with Magaw in
America, with Peter Paulus in Holland, with the Abbe
Tamburiui in Italy,—" and he was continuing to unfold
the same string of names which he had formerly re¬
peated, but with a different motive, at the council held
at M. de Blanchelande's when Biassou interrupted him.
" What do I care with whom you correspond ? Tell
me rather where are your granaries and storehouses, for
my army has need of supplies. Your plantation is
doubtless a rich one, and your business must be lucra¬
tive since you correspond with so many merchants."
C ventured timidly to remark: " Hero of human¬
ity, they are not merchants, but philosophers, philan¬
thropists, lovers of the race of blacks."
" Then," said Biassou, with a shake of his head, " if
you have nothing that can be plundered, what good are
you ? "
This question afforded a chance of safety of which
C eagerly availed himself. " Illustrious warrior,"
exclaimed he, " have you an economist in your army ? "
"What is that? " asked the general.
" It is," replied the prisoner, with as much calmness
as his fears would permit him to assume, " a most nec¬
essary man,—one whom all appreciate, one who follows
out and classes in their proper order the respective
material resources of an empire, and gives to each its
real value, increasing and improving them by com¬
bining their sources and results, and pouring them like
fertilizing streams into the main river of general util¬
ity, which in its turn swells the great sea of public
prosperity."
" Caramba !" observed Biassou, leaning over towards
the Obi. " What the deuce does he mean by all these
words strung together like the beads on your rosary ? "
The Obi shrugged his shoulders in sign of ignorance
and disdain, as citizen C continued :—
"If you will permit me to observe, valiant chief of the
regenerators of St. Domingo, I have carefully studied the
420
HANS OF ICELAND.
works of the greatest economists of the world,—Turgot,
Raynal, and Mirabeau the friend of man. I have put
their theories into practise; I thoroughly understand
the science indispensable for the government of king¬
doms and states—"
" The economist is not economical of his words," ob¬
served Rigaud, with his bland and cunning smile.
" But you, eternal talker," cried Biassou, " tell me,
have I any kingdoms or states to govern ? "
"Not yet perhaps, great man, but they will come;
and besides, my knowledge descends to all the useful
details which are comprised in the interior economy of
an army."
The general again interrupted him ; " I have nothing to
do with the interior economy of the army; I command it."
" Good ! " replied the citizen ; " you shall be the com¬
mander, I will be the commissary. I have much special
knowledge as to the increase of cattle—"
"Do you think we are going to breed cattle ?" cried
Biassou, with his sardonic laugh. " No, my good fellow,
Ave are content with eating them. When cattle become
scarce in the French colony I shall cross the line of
mountains on the frontier and take the Spanish sheep
and oxen from the plains of Cotury, of La Vega, of St.
Jago, and from the banks of the Yuna; if necessary I will
go as far as the Island of Jamaica, and to the back of the
mountain of Cibos, and from the mouths of the Neybe to
those of Santo Domingo; besides, I should be glad to
punish those infernal Spanish planters for giving up Oge to
the French. You see I am not uneasy as regards provi¬
sions, and so have no need of your knowledge."
This open declaration rather disconcerted the poor
economist; he made, hoAA^ever, one more effort for safety.
" My studies," said he, " have not been limited to the
reproduction of cattle; I am acquainted* Avith other spe¬
cial branches of knowledge that may be very useful to
you. I can show you the method of manufacturing
pitch and working coal mines."
" What do I care for that ?" exclaimed Biassou,
" When I want charcoal I burn a fcAv leagues of forest."
" I can tell you the proper kinds of wood to use for
shij)building,—the chicarm and the sabieca for the keels;
BUG-JARGAL.
421
the yabas for the knees, the medlars for the framework,
the hacomas, the gal'acs, the cedars, the acomas—"
" Que te lleven todos los demonios de los diez-y-siete
infernos ! " (" May the devils of the thirty-seven hells fly
away with you ! ") cried Biassou, boiling over with im¬
patience.
" I beg your pardon, my gracious patron," said the
trembling economist, who did not understand Spanish.
" Listen," said Biassou. " I don't want to build vessels;
there is only one vacancy that I can offer you, and that is
not a very important one. I want a man to wait upon
me ; and now, Mr. Philosopher, tell me if that will suit
you. You will have to serve me on your bended knees;
you will prepare my pipe, cook my calalou and turtle
soup, and you will stand behind me with a fan of peacock
or parrot feathers like those two pages. Now, will the
situation suit you ? "
Citizen C , whose only desire was to save his life,
bent to the earth with a thousand expressions of joy and
gratitude.
" You accept my offer, then ? " asked Biassou.
" Can you ask such a question, generous master ? Do
you think that I should hesitate for a moment in accept¬
ing so distinguished a post as that of being in constant
attendance on you ? "
At this reply the diabolical sneer of Biassou became
more pronounced. He rose up with an air of triumph,
crossed his arms on his chest, and thrusting aside with
his foot the white man's head who was prostrate on the
ground before him, he cried in a loud voice,—
" I am delighted at being able to fathom how far the
cowardice of the white man could go ; I had already
measured the extent of his cruelty. Citizen C , it is
to you that I owe this double experience. I knew all ;
how could you have been sufficiently besotted to think that
I did not ? It was you who presided at the executions of
June, July, and August; it was you who placed fifty
negro heads on each side of your avenue ; it was you
who proposed to slaughter the five hundred negroes wlio
were confined in irons after the revolt, and to encircle the
town of Cap Aj^ith their heads from Fort Picolet to Cajte
Caracul. It you could have done it, you would have
45>2
HANS OF ICELAND.
placed niy head among them ; and now you think your¬
self lucky if I will take you as my body-servant. No, no,
I have more regard for your honor than you yourself
have, and I will not inflict this affront on you ; prepare
to die !"
At a gesture of Biassou's hand the negroes removed the
unhappy lover of the blaeks to a position near me, where,
overwhelmed by the honor of his position, he fell to the
ground without being able to articulate a word.
CHAPTER XXXI.
" It is your turn now," said the general, turning to the
last of the prisoners,—the planter who was accused by
the white men of having black blood in his vems, and who
had on that account sent me a challenge.
A general clamor drowned the reply of the planter.
" Muerte ! Mort! Touye!" cried the negroes, grinding
their teeth, and shaking their fists at the unhappy captive.
" General," said a mulatto, making himself heard above
the uproar, " he is a white man, and he must die."
The miserable planter, by cries and gesticulations,
managed to edge in some words. " No, general! no, my
brothers ! it is an infamous calumny. I am a mulatto
like yourselves, of mixed blood ; my mother was a ne-
gress, like your mothers and sisters."
" He lies !" cried the infuriated negroes; " he is a
white man ; he has always detested the colored people."
" Never ! " retorted the prisoner ; « it is the whites that
I detest. I have always said with you, ' Negre ce blan ;
blan ce negre' (' The negroes are the masters; the whites
are the slaves' )."
" Not at all ! " cried the crowd, " not at all! Kill the
white man, kill him ! "
Still the unhappy wretch kept repeating in heartrend¬
ing accents, " I am a mulatto, I am one of yourselves."
" Give me a proof," was Biassou's sole reply.
" A proof ? " answered the prisoner, wildly ; « the proof
is that the whites have always despised me."
" That may be true," returned Biassou, " but you are
an insolent hound to tell us so."
V,
BUG-JARGAL.
423
A young mulatto stepped to the front and addressed
the planter in an excited manner. " That the whites de¬
spised you is a fact; but, on the other hand, you affected
to look down upon the mulattoes among whom they classed
you. It has even been reported that you once challenged
a white man who called you a half-caste."
A howl of execration arose from the crowd, and the
cry of " death " was repeated more loudly than ever ;
while the planter, casting an appealing glance at me, con¬
tinued, with tears in his eyes,—
" It is a calumny ; my greatest glory and happiness is in
belonging to the blacks. I am a mulatto."
" If you really were a mulatto," observed Rigaud,
quietly, " you would not make use of such an expression."
" How do I know what I am saying ? " asked the panic-
stricken wretch. " General, the proof that I am of mixed
blood is in the black circle that you see round the bottom
of my nails."
Biassou thrust aside tlie suppliant hand. " I do not
possess the knowledge of our chaplain, who can tell what
a man is by looking at his hand. But listen to me : my
soldiers accuse you—some, of being a white man ; others,
of being a false brother. If this is the case you ought to
die. You, on the other hand, assert that you belong to
our race, and that you have never denied it. There is one
method by which you can prove your assertion. Take
this dagger and stab these two white prisoners ! "
As he spoke, with a wave of his hand, Biassou desig¬
nated the citizen C and myself.
The planter drew back from the dagger which, with a
devilish smile on his face, Biassou presented to him.
" What!" said the general, " do you hesitate ? It is
your only chance of proving your assertion to the army
that you are not a white, and are one of ourselves.
Come, decide at once, for we have no time to lose."
The prisoner's eyes glared wildly; he stretched out
his hand towards the dagger, then let his arm fall again,
turning away his head, while every limb quivered with
emotion.
« Come, come !" cried Biassou, in tones of impatience
and anger, "J am in a hurry. Choose ; either kill them,
or die with them 1"
424
BANS OF ICELAND.
The planter remained motionless, as if he had been
turned to stone.
" Good! " said Biassou, turning towards the negroes;
" he does not wish to be the executioner, let him be the
victim. I can see that he is nothing but a white man;
away with him! "
The negroes advanced to seize him. This movement
impelled him to immediate choice between giving or re¬
ceiving death. Extreme cowardice produces a bastard
species of courage. Stepping forward, he snatched the
dagger that Biassou still held out to him, and without
giving himself time to reflect upon what he was about
to do, he precipitated himself like a tiger upon citizen
C , who was lying on the ground near me. Then a
terrible struggle commenced. The lover of the negro
race, who had at the conclusion of his interview with
Biassou remained plunged in a state of despair and stu¬
por, had hardly noticed the scene between the general
and the planter, so absorbed was he in the thought of
his approaching death; but when he saw the man rush
upon him, and the steel gleam above his head, the im¬
minence of his danger aroused him at once. He started
to his feet, grasped the arm of his would-be murderer,
and exclaimed in a voice of terror,—
" Pardon, pardon! "What are you doing ? What have
I done ? "
"You must die, sir," said the half-caste, fixing his
frenzied eyes upon his victim, and endeavoring to dis¬
engage his arm. " Let me do it; I will not hurt you."
" Die by your hand," cried the economist; "but why?
Spare me! you wish perhaps to kill me because I used to
say that you were a mulatto. But spare my life, and I
vow that I will always declare that you are a white man.
Yes, you are white; I will say so everywhere, but spare
me!"
The unfortunate man had taken the wrong method of
suing for mercy.
" Silence, silence !" cried the half-caste, furious at the
idea of the danger he was incurring, and fearing that the
negroes would hear the assertion.
But the other cried louder than ever that he knew
that he was a white man, and of good family. The hail-
BUG-JARGAL.
425
caste made a last effort to impose silence on him; then
finding his efforts vain, he thrust aside his arms, and
pressed the dagger upon C 's breast. The unhappy
man felt the point of the weapon, and in his despair bit
the arm that was driving the dagger home.
" Monster ! wretch!" exclaimed he, " you are murder¬
ing me! " Then casting a glance of supplication towards
Biassou, he cried, " Defend me, avenger of humanity!"
Then the murderer pressed more heavily on the dagger;
a gush of blood bubbled over his fingers, and spattered
his face. The knees of the unhappy lover of the negro
race bent beneath him, his arms fell by his side, his eyes
closed, he uttered a stifled groan, and fell dead.
CHAPTER XXXII.
I WAS paralyzed with horror at this scene, in which I
every moment expected to play an important part.
The "avenger of humanity " had gazed on the struggle
without a lineament of his features changing. When all
was over, he turned to his terrified pages. " More to¬
bacco," said he, and began to chew calmly. The Obi and
Rigaud were equally impassible, but the negroes appeared
terrified at the horrible drama that their general had
caused to be enacted before them.
One white man, however, yet remained to be slaugh¬
tered ; my turn had come. I cast a glance upon the mur¬
derer who was about to become my executioner, and a
feeling of pity came over me. His lips were violet, his
teeth chattered, a convulsive tremor caused every limb
to quiver. By a mechanical movement his hand was
continually passed over his forehead, as if to obliterate
the traces of the blood which had so liberally sprinkled
it; he looked with an air of terrified wonder at the bleed¬
ing body which lay at his feet, as though he were unable
to detach his strained eyeballs from the spectacle of his
victim. I waited for the moment when he would resume
his task of blood. The position was a strange one : he
had already tried to kill me and failed, to prove that he
was white; ai^cl now he was going to murder me to show
that he was black.
426
HANS OF ICELAND.
" Come," said Biassou, addressing him, " this is good ; I
am pleased with you, my friend." Then glancing at me,
he added, " You need not finish the other one; and now I
declare you one of us, and name you executioner to the
army."
At these words a negro stepped out of the ranks, and
bowing three times to the general, cried out in his jargon,
which I will spare you,—
" And I, General ? "
" Well, what do you want ? " asked Biassou.
" Are you going to do nothing for me. General ? " asked
the negro. " Here you give an important post to this dog
of a white, who murders to save his own skin, and to
prove that he is one of ourselves. Have you no post to
give to me, who am a true black ? "
This unexpected request seemed to embarrass Biassou,
and Rigaud whispered to him in French,—
"You can't satisfy him; try to elude his request."
"You wish for promotion, then ?" asked Biassou of the
the true black. " Well, I am willing enough to grant it
to you. What grade do you wish for ? "
" I wish to be an officer."
" An officer, eh ? And what are your claims to the
epaulet founded on ? "
" It was I," answered the negro, emphatically, " who
set. fire to the house of Lagoscelte in the first days of
August last. It was I who murdered M. Clement the
planter, and carried the head of his sugar refiner on my
pike. I killed ten white women and seven small children,
one of whom on the point of a spear served as a standard
for Bouckmann's brave blacks. Later on I burnt alive
the families of four colonists, whom I had locked up in
the strong room of Fort Galifet. My father was broken
on the wheel at Cap, my brother was hung at Rocrow,
and I narrowly escaped being shot. I have burnt three
coffee plantations, six indigo estates, and two hundred
acres of sugar-cane; I murdered my master, M. Noe, and
his mother—"
" Spare us the recital of your services," said Rigaud,
whose feigned benevolence was the mask for real cruelty,
but who was ferocious with decency, and could not listen
to this cynical confession of deeds of violence.
BUG-JAHGAL.
427
"I conld quote many others," continnecl the negro,
proudly, " but you will no doubt consider that these are
sufficient to ensure iny promotion, and to entitle me to
wear a gold epaulet like my comracles there," pointing to
the staff of Biassou.
The general affected to reflect for a few minutes, and
then gravely addressed the negro. " I am satisfied with
your services, and should be pleased to promote you; but
you must satisfy me on one point. Do you understand
Latin ? "
The astonished negro opened his eyes widely. " Eh,
General ? " said he.
" Yes," repeated Biassou, quickly; " do you understand
Latin ? "
" La—Latin ? " stammered the astonished negro.
"Yes, yes, yes, Latin; do you understand Latin?" said
the cunning chief, and unfolding a banner upon which was
embroidered the verse from the Psalms," In exitu Israel de
Egypto," he added," Explain the meaning of these words."
The negro, in complete ignorance of what was meant,
remained silent and motionless, fumbling with the waist¬
band of his trousers, while his astonished eyes wandered
from the banner to the general, and from the general
back again to the banner.
" Come, go on!" exclaimed Biassou, impatiently.
The negro opened and shut his mouth several times,
scratched his head, and at last said slowly: " I don't
understand it. General."
" How, scoundrel!" cried Biassou ; " you wish to be¬
come an officer, and you do not understand Latin! "
" But, General—" stammered the puzzled negro.
" Silence!" roared Biassou, whose anger appeared to
increase ; " I do not know what prevents me from hav¬
ing you shot at once. Did you ever hear such a thing,
Rigaud ? He wants to be an officer, and does not under¬
stand Latin. Well, then, idiot, as you do not understand,
I will explain what is written on this banner: In exitu—
'Every soldier'—Itu-aU—'who does not understand
Latin'—de Egypto—' cannot be made an officer.' Is not
that the translation, reveiend sir ? "
The Obi bmved his head in the affirmative, and Biassou
continued,—
428
HANS OF ICELAXD.
" This brother of whom you are jealous, and whom I
have appointed executioner, understands Latin!" He
turned to the new executioner: "You know Latin, do
you not? Prove it to this blockhead. What is the meaning
of Dominus vobiscum ? "
The unhappy half-caste, roused from his gloomy rev¬
erie by the dreaded voice, raised his head; and though
his brain was still troubled by the cowardly murder that
he had just committed, terror compelled him to be obe¬
dient. There was something pitiable in his mannei', as
his mind went back to his schooldays, and in the midst
of his terrible feelings and remorse he repeated in the
tone of a child saying its lesson, '■'■Dominus vobiscum,—
that means, 'May the Lord be with you.'"
" Et cum spirito tuo," added the mysterious Obi, sol¬
emnly.
" Amen," repeated Biassou; then resuming his angry
manner, and mingling with his reproaches some Latin
phrases to impress the negroes with the superior attain¬
ments of their chief, he cried: " Go to the rear rank,
sursum corda! Never attempt to enter the places of those
who know Latin, orate fratres, or I will have you hung.
Bonus, bona, bonum!^''
The astonished and terrified negro slunk away, greeted
by the hoots and hisses of his comrades, who were in¬
dignant at his presumption, and impressed with the deep
learning of their general.
Burlesque though this scene was, it inspired me with a
very high idea of Biassou's administrative capabilities.
He had made ridicule the means of repressing ambitious
aspirations, which are always so dangerous to authority
in undisciplined bodies and his cunning gave me a fuller
idea of his mental powers, as well as of the crass ignorance
of the negroes under his command.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
The breakfast hour had now arrived. The shell of a
turtle was placed before Biassou, in which smoked a species
of olla-podrida seasoned with bacon, in which turtle-flesh
took the place of lamb j an enormous carib cabbage floated
BUG-JARGAL.
429
on the surface of the stew, and in addition, on strips of
bark, were dried raisins and water-melons, a loaf of maize
bread; a bottle of wine, bound round with tarred string,
completed the feast. Biassou took from his pocket a few
heads of garlic and rubbed his bread with them; then,
without even ordering the bleeding form to be carried
away, he began to eat, inviting Rigaud to do the same.
There was something terrible in Biassou's appetite.
The Obi did not join their repast: like others in his
profession, I could easily understand that he never took
anything in public, to induce a belief among the negroes
that he lived entirely without food.
During breakfast, Biassou ordered one of his aides-de-
camp to direct the review of the army to commence, and
the different corps began to defile past in fairly good order.
The negroes of Morne-Rouge were the first; there were
about four thousand of them, divided into companies com¬
manded by chiefs, who were distinguished by their scarlet
breeches and sashes. This force was composed of tall
and powerful negroes; some of them carried guns, axes,
and sabers, but many had no other arms than bows and
arrows, and javelins rudely fashioned by themselves.
They carried no standard, and moved past in mournful
silence. As they marched on, Biassou whispered to
Rigaud,—
" When will Blanchelande's and Rouvray's shot and
shell free me from these bandits of Morne-Rouge ? I hate
them ; they are nearly all of them Congos, and they only
believe in killing in open battle,—following the example
, of their chief Bug-Jargal, a young fool, who plays at
being generous and magnanimous. You do not know
him, Rigaud, and I hope you never will; for the whites
have taken him prisoner, and they may perhaps rid me
of him, as they did of Bouckmann."
" Speaking of Bouckmann," answered Rigaud," there
are the negroes of Macaya just passing, and I see in their
ranks the negro whom Jean Fran9ois sent to you with
the news of Bouckmann's death. Do you know that that
man might upset all the prophecies of the Obi, if he were
to say that he had been kept for more than half an hour
at the outposts, and that he had told me the news before
you sent for him ? "
HANS OF ICELAND.
" Diaholo / " answered Biassou, " you are in the right,
my friend; this man's mouth must be shut. Wait a bit."
Then raising his voice he called out " Macaya ! " The
leader of the division left the ranks, and approached the
general with the stock of his firelock reversed, in token
of respect.
" Make that man who does not belong to your division
leave his rank and come forward."
Macaya speedily brought the messenger of Jean Fran9ois
before the general, who at once assumed that appearance
of anger which he knew so well how to simulate.
« Who are you ? " cried he.
" General, I am a black."
" Carramba ! I can see that well enough; but what is
your name ? "
"My name is Vavelan; my patron saint is Sabas,
deacon and martyr, whose feast is on the twentieth day
before the nativity of our Lord."
Biassou interrupted him: " IIow dare you present your¬
self on parade, amidst shining muskets and white cross-
belts, with your sword without a sheath, your breeches
torn, and your feet muddy ? "
" General," answered the negro, " it is not my fault.
I was dispatched by the Grand Admiral, Jean Fran§ois,
to bring you the news of the death of the chief of the
English negroes; and if my clothes are torn and my feet
bemired, it is because I have run, without stopping to
take breath, to bring you the news as soon as possible;
but they detained me at—"
Biassou frowned. " I did not ask you about that, but
how you dared to enter the ranks in so unbecoming a
dress. Commend your soul to Saint Sabas, your patron,
the deacon and martyr, and go and get yourself shot."
And here I had another proof of the ascendency that
Biassou exercised over the insurgents. The unfortunate
man who was ordered to go and get himself executed did
not utter a protest; he bowed his head, crossed his arms
on his breast, saluted his pitiless judge three times, and
after having knelt to the Obi, who gave him plenary ab¬
solution, he left the cavern. A few minutes afterwards
a volley of musketry told us that Biassou's commands had
been obeyed, and that the negro was no more.
liUG-JAnGAL,
431
Freed from all sources of uneasiness, the general turned
to Kigaud, a gleam of pleasure in his e5'e, and gave a
triumphant chuckle which seemed to say, " Admire me !"
CHAPTER XXXIV.
But the review still continued. This army, which had
presented so curious a spectacle in camp, had a no less
extraordinary appearance under arms. Sometimes a
horde of almost naked negroes would come along armed
with clubs and tomahawks, marching to the notes of a
goat's horn like mere savages; then would come regi¬
ments of mulattoes, dressed in the English or Spanish
manner, well armed and equipped, regulating their pace
by the roll of the drum; then a band of negresses and
their children carrying forks and spits; then some tag-
rag, bent under the weight of an old musket without lock
or barrel; then griotes with their feathered aprons, griots
dancing with hideous contortions, and singing incoherent
airs to the accompaniment of guitars, tomtoms, and bal-
afos; then would be a procession of priests, or Obi men,
of half-castes, quarter-castes, free mulattoes, or wander¬
ing hordes of escaped slaves with a proud look of liberty
on their faces and shining muskets on their shoulders,
dragging in their ranks well-filled wagons, or some ar¬
tillery taken from the whites, which were looked on more
as trophies than as military engines, and yelling out at
the top of their voices the songs of " Grand-Pre" and
" Oua-Xasse." Above the heads of all floated flags,
banners, and standards of every form, color, and device,
—white, red, tricolor, with the lilies, with the cap of
liberty, bearing inscriptions: " Death to Priests and
Nobles ! " " Long live Religion! " " Liberty and Equal¬
ity !" " Long live the King ! " " Viva Espana ! " " No
more Tyrants !" etc.,—a confusion of sentiments which
showed that the insurgents were a mere crowd collected
together, with ideas as different as were the men who
composed it. On passing in their turn before the cave
the compani^ drooped their banners, and Biassou returned
the salute. He addressed every band either in praise "or
432
HANS OF ICELAND.
censure, and each word that dropped from his mouth
was received by his men with fanatical respect or super¬
stitious dread.
The wave of savage soldiery passed away at last. I
confess that the sight that had at first afforded some dis¬
traction to my feelings finished by wearying me. The
sun went down as the last ranks filed away, and his last
rays cast a copper-colored hue upon the granite portals of
the cave.
CHAPTER XXXV.
Biassou seemed to be dreaming. When the review
was concluded, his last orders had been given, and the
insurgents had retired to the huts, he condescended to
address me again.
"Young man," said he, "you have now had the means
of judging of my power and genius; the time has now
arrived for you to bear the report to Leogri."
"It is not my fault that he has not had it earlier,"
answered I, coldly.
" You are right," replied Biassou. He then paused, as
if to note what the effect would be upon me of what he
was going to say, and then added: "But it will de¬
pend upon yourself whether you ever carry the message
or not."
" What do you mean ? " exclaimed I, in astonishment.
" Why," replied he," that your life depends upon your¬
self, and that you can save it if you will."
This sudden paroxysm of pity—the first, and no doubt
the last, which had ever possessed Biassou—surprised me
much, and astonished the Obi so greatly that he leaped
from the position which he had so long maintained, and
placing himself face to face with the general addressed
him in angry tones :—
"What are you saying? Have you forgotten your
promise ? Neither God nor you can dispose of this life,
for it belongs to me."
At that instant I thought that I recognized the voice ;
but it was only a fieeting recollection, and in a moment
had passed away.
BUG-J AUG AL.
433
Biassou got up from his seat without betraying any
anger, spoke for a few moments in whispers to the Obi,
and pointed to the black flag which I had already re¬
marked ; and after a little more conversation the Obi
nodded in sign of assent. Both of them reverted to their
former positions.
"Listen to me," said the general, drawing from his
pocket the dispatch which Jean Fran9ois had sent to
him. " Things are going ill. Bouckmann has been killed.
The whites have slaughtered more than two thousand of
our men in the district of Cul-de-Sac. The colonists are
continuing to establish and to fortify military posts. By
our own folly we have lost the chance of taking Cap, and
it will be long before another occasion will present itself.
On the eastern side our line of march has been cut by a
river, and the whites have defended the passage by a
pontoon battery and a fortified camp. On the south side
they have planted artillery on the mountainous road
called the Haut-du-Cap. The position is, in addition, de¬
fended by a strong stockade, at which all the inhabitants
have labored, and in front of it there is a strong chevaux-
cle-frise. Cap, therefore, is beyond our reach. Our am¬
bush in the ravines of Dompte-Mulatre was a failure;
and, to add to all these misfortunes, the Siamese fever
has devastated our camps. In consequence, the Grand
Admiral (and I agree with him) has decided to treat with
the Governor Blanehelande and the Colonial Assembly.
Here is the letter that we have addressed to the Assembly
on this matter. Listen! "
Gentlemen of the House of Deputies,—In the great mis¬
fortunes which have afflicted this great and important col¬
ony we have also been enveloped, and there remains noth¬
ing for us to say in justification of our conduct. One day
you will render us the justice that our conduct merits.
According to us, the King of Spain is a good king, who
treats us well, and has testified it to us by rewards ; so we
shall continue to serve him with zeal and devotion.
We see by the law of Sept. 28, 1791, that the National
Assembly and the King have agreed to settle definitely the
status of slaves, and the political situation of people of
color. We ^11 defend the decrees of the National As¬
sembly with the last drop of our blood.
28 ^
434
HANS OF ICELAND.
It would be most interesting to us if you would declare,
by an order sanctioned by your general, as to your inten¬
tions regarding the position of the slaves. Knowing that
they are the objects of your solicitude through their chiefs,
who send you this, they will he satisfied if the relations
now broken are once again resumed.
Do not count, gentlemen Deputies, upon our consenting
to take up arms for the revolutionary Assemblies. We are
the subjects of three kings,—the King of Congo, the born
master of all the blacks ; the King of France, who represents
our fathers ; and the King of Spain, who is the representative
of our mothers. These three kings are the descendants of
those who, conducted by a star, worshiped the Man God.
If we were to consent to serve the Assemblies, we might be
forced to take up arms and to make war against our
brothers, the subjects of those three kings to whom we
have sworn fidelity. And, besides, we do not know what is
meant by the will of the Nation, seeing that since the world
has been in existence we have always executed that of the
King. The Prince of France loves us ; the King of Spain
never ceases to help us. We aid them,—they aid us ; it is
the cause of humanity ; and, besides, if these kings should
fail us we could soon enthrone a king of our own.
Such are our intentions, although we now consent to
make peace.
(Signed) Jean Francois, General.
Biassou, Brigadier.
Desprez,
Manzeau,
Toussaint,
Aubert,
Commissaires,
ad hoc.*
"You see," said Biassou, after he had read this piece
of negro diplomacy, every word of which has remained
imprinted on my memory, " that our intentions are peace¬
able ; but this is what we want you to do: Neither Jean
Frangois nor I have been brought up in the schools of the
whites, or learned the niceties of their language; we know
how to fight, but not how to write. Now, we do not wish
that there should be anything in our letter at which our
former masters can laugh. You seem to have learned
these frivolous accomplishments in which we are lacking.
Correct any faults you may find in this dispatch, so that
* It is a fact that this ridiculously characteristic letter was sent
to the Assembly.
BUG-JARGAL.
435
it may excite no derision among the whites, and—I will
give you your life."
This proposition of becoming the corrector of Biassou's
faults of spelling and composition was too repugnant to
my pride for me to hesitate for a moment; and besides,
what did I care for life ? I declined his offer. He ap¬
peared surprised.
"What! " exclaimed he, "you prefer death to scrawl¬
ing a few marks with a pen on a piece of paper ? "
" Yes," replied I.
My determination seemed to embarrass him. After a
few moments of thought he again addressed me: " Lis¬
ten, young fool! I am less obstinate than you are; I
give you until to-morrow evening, up to the setting of
the sun, when you shall again be brought before me.
Think well, then, before you refuse to obey my wishes.
Adieu. Let night bring reflection to you ; and remember
that with us death is not simply death,—much comes be¬
fore you reach it."
The frightful sardonic grin with which he concluded
his last speech too plainly brought to my recollection the
awful tortures which it was Biassou's greatest pleasure to
inflict upon his prisoners.
" Candi," continued Biassou, " remove the prisoner, and
give him in charge to the men of Morne-Rouge. I wish
him to live for another day, and perhaps my other soldiers
would not have the patience to let him do so."
The mulatto Candi, who commanded the guard, caused
my arms to be bound behind my back; a soldier took
hold of the end of the cord, and we left the grotto.
CHAPTER XXXVL
WHEN any extraordinary events, unexpected anxieties
or catastrophes, intrude themselves suddenly into a life
up to that period peaceful and happy, these unexpected
emotions interrupt the repose of tiie soul which lay dream¬
ing in the monotony of prosperity. Misfortune which
comes on yc^i in this manner does not seem like an
awakening from bliss, but rather like a dream of evil.
436
HANS OF ICELAND.
With the man who has been invariably happy, despair
begins with stupor. Unexpected misery is like cramp,—
it clasps, and deadens everything. Men, acts, and things
at that time pass before us like a fantastic apparition, and
move along as if in a dream. Everything in the horizon
of our life is changed, both the atmosphere and the per¬
spective ; but it still goes on for a long time before our
eyes have lost that sort of luminous image of past happi¬
ness which follows in its train, and interposes without
cessation between it and the somber present. Then
everything that is appears to be unreal and ridiculous,
and we can scarcely believe in our own existence, because
we find nothing around us that formerly used to compose
our life, and we cannot understand how all can have gone
away without taking us with it, and why nothing of our
life remains to us.
Were this strained position of the soul to continue long,
it would disturb the equilibrium of the brain and become
madness,—a state happier perhaps than that which re¬
mains, for life then is nothing but a vision of past mis¬
fortune, acting like a ghost.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
Gentlemen, I hardly know why I lay before you my
ideas upon such a subject; they are not those which you
understand, or can be made to understand. To compre¬
hend them thoroughly, you must have gone through what
I have. But such was the state of my mind when the
guards of Biassou handed me over to the negroes of
Morne-Rouge. I was still in a dream,—it appeared as if
one body of phantoms passed me over to another; and
without opposing any resistance I permitted them to bind
me by the middle to a tree. They then gave me some
boiled potatoes, which I ate with the mechanical instinct
that God grants to man even in tlie midst of overwhelm¬
ing thought-
The darkness had now come on, and my guards took
refuge in their huts,—with the exception of half-a-dozen
who remained with me, lying before a large fire that they
BUG-JARGAL.
437
had lighted to preserve themselves from the cold night-
air. In a few moments they were all buried in profound
sleep.
The state of physical weakness into which I had fallen
caused my thoughts to wander in a strange manner. I
thought of those calm and peaceful days which but a few
Aveeks ago I had passed with Marie, without being able
to foresee any future but one of continued happiness. I
compared them with the day that had just expired,—a
day in which so many strange events had occurred as al¬
most to make me wonder whether I was not laboring
under some delusion. I had been three times condemned
to death, and still remained under sentence. I thought
of my future, bounded only by the morrow, and which
offered nothing but misfortune and a death happily near
at hand. I seemed to be the victim of some terrible
nightmare. Again and again I asked myself if all that
had happened was real; was I really in the power of the
sanguinary Biassou, and was my Marie lost to me for¬
ever? Could this prisoner, guarded by six savages, bound
to a tree, and condemned to certain death, really be I ?
In spite of all my efforts to repel them, the thoughts of
Marie would force themselves upon me. In anguish I
thought of her fate; I strained my bonds in my efforts to
break them, and to fly to her succor, ever hoping that the
terrible dream would pass aAvay, and that Heaven would
not permit all the horrors that I dreaded to fall upon the
head of her who had been united to me in a sacred bond.
In my sad preoccupation the thought of Pierrot returned
to me, and rage nearly took away my senses; the pulses
of my temples throbbed nearly to bursting. I hated
him, I cursed him; I despised myself for having ever had
friendship for Pierrot at the same time I had felt love for
Marie ; and without earing to seek for the motive which
had urged him to cast himself into the waters of Grande-
Riviere, I wept because he had escaped me. He was dead,
and I was about to die, and all that I regretted Avas that
I had been unable to wreak my vengeance upon him.
During the state of semi-somnolency into Avhich my
weakness had plunged me, these thoughts passed through
my brain. I^o not know hoAV long it lasted, but I Avas
aroused by a man's voice smgiiig distinctly, but at some
438
HANS OF ICELAND.
distance, the old Spanish song, " Yo que soy contraban-
dista." Quivering with emotion I opened my eyes; all
was dark around me, the negroes slept, the fire was dying
down. I could hear nothing more. I fancied that the
voice must have been a dream, and my sleep-laden eyelids
closed again. In a second I opened them; for again I
heard the voice singing sadly, but much nearer, the same
song,—
" 'Twas on the field of Ocanen
That I fell in their power,
To Cotadilla taken,
Unhappy from Chat hour."
This time it was not a charm,—it teas Pierrot's voice.
A few moments elapsed; then it rose again through the
silence and the gloom, and ohce more I heard the well-
known air of"Yo que soy contrabandista." A dog ran
eagerly to greet me, and rolled at my feet in token of
welcome; it was Itask! A tall negro stood facing me,
and the glimmer of the fire threw his shadow, swelled to
colossal proportions, upon the sward. It was Pierrot.
The thirst for vengeance fired my brain; surprise ren¬
dered me motionless and dumb. I was not asleep. Could
the dead return ? If not a dream, it must be an apparition.
I turned from him with horror.
When he saw me do this, his head sank upon his breast.
" Brother," murmured he, " you promised that you would
never doubt me when you heard me sing that song. My
brother, have you forgotten your promise ? "
Rage restored the power of speech to me. " Monster! "
exclaimed I, "do I see you at last? Butcher, murderer
of my uncle, ravisher of Marie, dare you call me your
brother ? Do not venture to approach me !"
I forgot that I was too securely tied to make the slight¬
est movement, and glanced to my left side as though to
seek my sword.
My intention did not escape him, and he continued in a
sorrowful tone of voice : " No, I will not come near you ;
you are unhappy and I pity you,—while you have no pity
for me, though I am much more wretched than you are."
I shrugged my shoulders; he understood my feelings,
and in a half dreamy manner continued,—
BUG-JARGAL.
439
" Yes, you have lost much; but, believe me, I have lost
more than you have."
But the sound of our conversation had aroused the
negro guard. Perceiving a stranger, they leaped to their
feet and seized their weapons; but as soon as they recog¬
nized the intruder they uttered a cry of surprise and joy,
and cast themselves at his feet, striking the ground with
their foreheads.
But neither the homage that the negroes rendered to
Pierrot, nor the fondlings of Rask, made any impression
upon me at the moment. I was boiling over with passion,
and maddened at the bonds that restrained me; and at
length my fury found words. " Oh, how unhappy I am ! "
I exclaimed, shedding tears of rage. " I was grieving be¬
cause I thought that this wretch had committed suicide,
and robbed me of my just revenge ; and now he is here to
mock me, living and breathing under my very eyes, and I
am powerless to stab him to the heart! Is there no one
to free me from these accursed cords ? "
Pierrot turned to the negroes, who were still prostrate
before him.
" Comrades," said he, " release the prisoner I "
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
He was promptly obeyed. With the greatest eager¬
ness, my guards cut asunder the ropes that confined me.
I rose up free; hut I remained motionless, for surprise
rooted me to the spot.
" That is not all," said Pierrot; and snatching a dag¬
ger from one of the negroes, he handed it to me. " You
can now have your wish. Heaven would not be pleased
should I dispute your right to dispose of my life. Three
times you have preserved it. Strike! it is yours, I say ;
and if you wish, strike ! "
There was no sign of anger or of bitterness in his face;
he appeared resigned and mournful. The very vengeance
offered to me by the man with whom I had so much
longed to stand face to face, prevented my seizing the op¬
portunity. I ffelt that all my hatred for Pierrot, all niy
love for Marie, could not induce me to commit a cowardly
440
HANS OF ICELAND.
murder; besides, however damning appearances might
be, a voice from the depths of my heart warned me that
no criminal, no guilty man, would thus dare to stand be¬
fore me and brave my vengeance. Shall I confess it to
you,—there was a certain imperious fascination about
this extraordinary being which conquered me in spite of
myself. I pushed aside the dagger he offered to me.
" Wretch!" cried I, "I wish to kill you in fair fight;
but I am no assassin. Defend yourself! "
" Defend myself!" replied he, in tones of astonish¬
ment, « and against whom ? "
" Against me! "
He started back. "Against you! That is the only
thing in which I cannot obey you. Look at Rask there:
I could easily kill him, for he would let me do it; but as
for making him fight me, the thing would be impossible,
—he would not understand me if I told him to do so. I
do not understand you; in your case I am Rask."
After a short silence, he added: " I see the gleam of
hate in your eyes, as you once saw it in mine. I know
that you have suffered much; that your uncle has been
murdered, your plantations burned, your friends slaugh¬
tered. Yes, they have plundered your house, and devas¬
tated your inheritance; but it was not I that did these
things, it was my people. Listen to me. I one day told
you that your people had done me much injury ; you said
that you must not be blamed for the acts of others. What
was my reply ? "
His face grew brighter as he awaited my reply, evi¬
dently expecting that I would embrace him; but fixing
an angry gaze upon him, I answered,—
" You disdain all responsibility as to the acts of your
people, but you say nothing about what you have your¬
self done."
" What have I done ? " asked he.
I stepped up close to him, and in a voice of thunder
I demanded, " Where is Marie ? What have you done
with Marie ? "
At this question a cloud passed over his face; he
seemed momentarily embarrassed. At last he spoke.
" Marie ! " said he ; " yes, you are right But too many
ears listen to us here."
BUG-.TARGAL.
441
His embarrassment, and the words " You are right,"
raised the hell of jealousy in my heart; yet still he
gazed upon me with a perfectly open countenance, and
in a voice trembling with emotion, said,—
" Do not suspect me, I implore you! Besides, I will
tell you everything; love me, as I love you, with perfect
trust." He paused to mark the effect of his words, and
then added tenderly, " May I not again call you brother ? "
But I was a prey to my jealous feelings, and his friend¬
ly Avords seemed to me but the deep machinations of a
hypocrite, and only served to exasperate me more. " Dare
you recall the time when you did so, you monster of in¬
gratitude ? " I exclaimed.
He interrupted me, a tear shining in his eye: " It is
not I who am ungrateful."
" Well, then," I continued, " tell me what you have
done with Marie ! "
« Not here, not here!" answered he,—" other ears than
ours listen to our words ; besides, you would not believe
me, and time presses. The day has come, and you must
be removed from this. All is at an end. Since you doubt
me, far better would it have been for you to take the dag¬
ger and finish all; but wait a little before you take what
you call your vengeance,—I must first free you. Come
with me to Biassou."
His manner, both in speaking and acting, concealed a
mystery which I could not understand. In spite of all
my prejudices against the man, his voice always made
my heart vibrate. In listening to him, a certain hidden
power that he possessed subjugated me. I found myself
hesitating between vengeance and pity, between the
bitterest distrust and the blindest confidence. I followed
him.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
We left the camp of the negroes of Morne-Rouge. I
could not help thinking it strange to find myself at per¬
fect liberty, among a horde of savages, in a spot where
the evening before each man had seemed only too ready
to shed my blood. Far from seeking to bar our progress,
442
SANS OF ICELAND.
both the negroes and the mulattoes prostrated themselves
on all sides, with exclamations of surprise, joy, and re¬
spect. I was ignorant what rank Pierrot held in the army
of the insurgents; but I remembered the influence that
he used to exercise over his companions in slavery, and
this appeared to me to account for the respect with which
he was now treated.
On our arrival at the guard before the grotto, the mu¬
latto Candi advanced before us with threatening gestures,
demanding how we dared approach so near the general's
quarters; but when he came close enough to recognize
my conductor, he hurriedly removed his gold-laced cap,
as though terrified at his own audacity, bowed to the
ground, and at once introduced us into Biassou's presence
with a thousand apologies, of which Pierrot took no
heed.
The respect with which the simple negro soldiers had
treated Pierrot excited my surprise very little ; but seeing
Candi, one of the principal officers of the army, humiliate
himself thus before my uncle's slave, made me ask myself
who this man could be whose power was illimitable.
How much more astonished was I then, when, upon being
introduced into the presence of Biassou,—who was alone
when we entered, and was quietly enjoying his calulou,—
he started to his feet, concealing disappointment and sur¬
prise under the appearance of profound respect, bowed
humbly to my companion, and offered him his mahogany
throne.
Pierrot declined it. "No, .Jean Biassou," said he. "I
have not come to take your place, but simply to ask a
favor at your hands."
"Your Highness," answered Biassou, redoubling his
obeisances, " you know well that all Jean Biassou has is
yours, and that you can dispose as freely of all as you can
of Jean Biassou himself."
" I do not ask for so much," replied Pierrot, quickly;
" all I ask is the life and liberty of this prisoner," and
he pointed to me.
For a moment Biassou appeared embarrassed, but he
speedily recovered himself. "Your servant is in despair,
your Highness; for you ask of him, to his great regret,
mure than he can grant. He is not Jean Biassou's pris-
BVG-JAEGAL.
443
oner, does not belong to Jean Biassou, and has nothing to
do with Jean Biassou."
" What do you mean ? " asked Pierrot in severe tones,
" by saying that he does not belong to you ? Does any
one else hold authority here except you ? "
" Alas, yes, your Highness."
" Who is it y "
" My army."
The sly and obsequious manner in which Biassou eluded
the frank and haughty questions of Pierrot showed, had
it depended solely upon himself, that he would gladly
have treated his visitor with far less respect than he felt
himself now compelled to do.
" What!" exclaimed Pierrot, " your army ! And do
not you command it ? "
Biassou, with every appearance of sincerity, replied,
" Does your Highness really think that we can command
men who are in insurrection because they will not
obey ? "
I cared too little for my life to break the silence which
I had imposed upon myself, else, having seen the day be¬
fore the despotic authority that Biassou exercised over his
men, I might have contradicted his assertions, and laid
bare his duplicity to Pierrot.
"Well, if you have no authority over your men, and if
they are your masters, what reason can they have for
hating your prisoner ? "
" Bouckmann has been killed by the white troops,"
answered Biassou, endeavoring to conceal his sardonic
smile under a mask of sorrow, " and my men are deter¬
mined to avenge upon this white man the death of the
chief of the Jamaica negroes. They wish to show trophy
against trophy, and desire that the head of this young
officer should serve as a counterpoise to the head of Bouck¬
mann in the scales in which the good Gin weighs both
parties."
" Do you still continue to carry on this horrible system
of reprisals ? Listen to me, Jean Biassou ! it is these
cruelties that are the ruin of our just cause. Prisoner as
I was in the camp of the whites (from which I have man¬
aged to escffpe), I had not heard of the death of Bouck¬
mann until you told inc. It is the just punishment of
444
UANS OF ICELAND.
Heaven for his crimes. I will tell you another piece of
news: Jeannot, the negro chief who served as a guide to
draw the white troops into the ambush of Dompte-Mu-
latre,—Jeannot also is dead. You know—do not inter¬
rupt me, Biassou 1—you know that he rivaled you and
Bouckmann in his atrocities; and pay attention to thi.s,—
it was not the thunderbolt of Heaven, nor the bullets of
the whites, that struck him; it was Jean Francois him¬
self who ordered this act of justice to be performed."
Biassou, who had listened with an air of gloomy re¬
spect, uttered an exclamation of surprise. At this mo¬
ment Rigaud entered, bowed respectfully to Pierrot, and
whispered in Biassou's ear. The murmur of many voices
was heard in the camp.
"Yes," continued Pierrot, "Jean Frangois, who has no
fault except a preposterous love of luxury and show;
whose carriage with its six horses takes him every day
to hear Mass at the Grande-Rivifere,—Jean Frangois him¬
self has put a stop to the crimes of Jeannot. In spite of
the cowardly entreaties of the brigand, who clung in de¬
spair to the knees of the priest of Marmalade who attended
him in his last moments, he was shot beneath the very
tree upon which he used to hang his living victims upon
iron hooks. Think upon this, Biassou. Why these mas¬
sacres which provoke the whites to reprisals ? Why all
these juggleries which only tend to excite the passions
of our unhappy comrades, already too much exasperated ?
There is at Trou-Coffi a mulatto impostor, called Ro-
maine the Prophet, who is in command of a fanatical
band of negroes; he profanes the holy sacrament of the
Mass, he pretends that he is in direct communication
with the Virgin, and he urges on his men to murder and
pillage in the name of Marie."
There was a more tender inflection in the voice of
Pierrot as he uttered this name than even i-eligious re¬
spect would have warranted, and I felt annoyed and
irritated at it.
" And you," continued he, " you have in your camp
some Obi, I hear,—some impostor like this Romaine the
Prophet. I well know that having to lead an army com¬
posed of so many heterogeneous materials, a common
bond is necessary; but can it be found nowhere save in
BUG-.TATIGAL.
445
ferocious fanaticism and ridiculous superstition? Be¬
lieve me, Biassou, the white men are not so cruel as we
are. I have seen many planters protect the lives of their
slaves. I am not ignorant that in some cases it was not
the life of a man, but a sum of money that they desired
to save ; but at any rate their interest gave them the ap¬
pearance of a virtue. Do not' let us be less merciful than
they are, for it is not our interest to be so. Will our
cause be more holy and more just because we exterminate
the women, slaughter the children, and burn the colonists
in their own houses ? These, however, are every-day oc¬
currences. Answer me, Biassou ! must the traces of our
progress be always marked by a line of blood and fire ? "
He ceased. The fire of his glance, the accent of his
voice, gave to his words a force of conviction and au¬
thority which it is impossible for me to imitate. Like
a fox in the clutches of a lion, Biassou seemed to seek for
some means of escape from the power that constrained
him.
While Biassou vainly sought for a pretext, the chief
of the negroes of Cayer, Rigaud, who the evening before
had calmly watched the horrors that had been perpetrated
in his presence, seemed to be shocked at the picture that
Pierrot had drawn, and exclaimed with a hypocritical
affectation of grief, " Great heavens! how terrible is a
nation when roused to fury I"
CHAPTER XL.
The confusion in the camp appeared to increase, to the
great uneasiness of Biassou. I heard afterwards that it
was caused by the negroes of Morne-Rouge, who hurried
from one end of the camp to the other, announcing the
.return of my liberator, and declaring their intention of
supporting him in whatever object he had come to
Biassou's camp for. Rigaud had informed the general¬
issimo of this, and it was the fear of a fatal division in
the camp that prompted Biassou to make some sort of
concession to the wishes of Pierrot.
"Your Highness," remarked he, with an air of injured
innocence, "if "Vve are hard on the whites, you are
44G
HANS OF ICELAND.
equally severe upon us. You are wrong in accusing
us of being the cause of the torrent, for it is the torrent
that drags us away with it. But what can I do at pres¬
ent that will please you ? "
" I have already told you, Senor Biassou," answered
Pierrot; " let me take this prisoner away with me."
Biassou remained for a few moments silent, as though
in deep thought; then putting on an expression of as
great frankness as he was able, he answered, "Your
Highness, I wish to prove to you that I have every desire
to please you. Permit me to have two words in private
with the prisoner, and he shall be free to follow you."
«If that is all you ask, I agree," replied Pierrot.
His eyes, which up to that moment had wandered
about in a distrustful manner, glistened with delight,
and he moved away a few paces to leave us to our con¬
versation.
Biassou drew me on one side into a retired part of the
cavern, and said in a low voice, " I can only spare your
life upon the condition that I proposed; are you ready to
fulfil it ? "
He showed me the dispatch of Jean Fran9ois; to con¬
sent appeared to me too humiliating.
" Never!" answered I, firmly.
" Aha!" repeated he, with his sardonic chuckle, " are
you always as firm ? You have great confidence, then, in
your protector. Do you know who he is ? "
" I do," answered I, quickly. " He is a monster, as
you are; only he is a greater hypocrite."
He started back in astonishment, seeking to read in
my glance if I spoke seriously. " "What!" exclaimed he,
" do you not know him then ? "
With a disdainful look, I replied: " I only know him
as my uncle's slave; and his name is Pierrot."
Again Biassou smiled bitterly. " Aha, that indeed is
strange: he asks for your life and liberty, and you say
that you only know him for a monster like myself."
«"What matters that ? " I answered; " if I do gain a
little liberty, it is not to save my own life, but to take his."
" What is that you are saying ? " asked Biassou. " And
yet you seem to speak as you believe; I cannot think
that you would trifle with your life. There is something
BUG-JAUGAL.
447
beneath all this that 1 do not understand. You are pro¬
tected by a man that you hate; he insists upon your life
being spared, and you are longing to take his! But it
matters little to me; you desire a short spell of freedom,
—it is all that I can give you. I will leave you free to
follow him; but swear to me, by your honor, that you
will return to me and reconstitute yourself my prisonei-
two hours before the sun sets. You are a Frenchman,
and I will trust you."
What shall I say, gentlemen ? Life was a burden to
me, and I hated the idea of owing it to Pierrot, for every
circumstance pointed him out as a just object of my
hatred. I could not think for a moment that Biassou
(who did not easily permit his prey to escape him) would
allow me to go free except upon his own conditions. All
I desired was a few hours' liberty which I could devote
to discovering the fate of my beloved before my death.
Biassou, relying upon my honor as a Frenchman, would
grant me these, and without hesitation I pledged it.
"Your Highness," said Biassou, in obsequious tones,
" the white prisoner is at your disposal; you can take
him with you, for he is free to accompany you wherever
you wish."
" Thanks, Biassou," cried Pierrot, extending his hand.
"You have rendered me a service which places me en¬
tirely at your disposal. Remain in command of our
brethren of Morne-Rouge until my return."
Then he turned towards me; I never saw so much
happiness in his eyes before. " Since you are free," cried
he, " come with me." And with a strange earnestness
he drew me away with him.
Biassou looked after us with blank astonishment,
which was even perceptible through the respectful leave
that he took of my companion.
CHAPTER XLI.
I WAS longing to be alone with Pierrot. His embar¬
rassment when I had questioned him as to the fate of
Marie, the ill-concealed tenderness with which he had
dared to pronounce her name, had made those feelings
448
HANS OF ICELAND.
of hatred and jealousy which had sprung up in my heart
take far deeper root than at the time I saw him bearing
away through the flames of Fort Galifet her whom I
could scarcely call my wife. What did I care for the
generous indignation with which he had reproved the
cruelties of Biassou, the trouble which he had taken to
preserve my life, and the curious manner which marked
all his words and actions ? What cared I for the mystery
that appeared to envelop him, which brought him living
before my eyes when I thought to have witnessed his
death ? He proved to be a prisoner of the white troops
when I believed that he lay buried in the depths of
Grande-Riviere,—the slave become a king, the prisoner
a liberator. Of all these incomprehensible thmgs one
was clear,—Marie had been carried off by him; and I had
this crime to punish, this outrage to avenge. However
strange were the events that had passed under my eyes,
they were not sufficient to shake my determination, and
I had waited with impatience for the moment when I
could compel my rival to explain all. That moment had
at last arrived.
We had passed through crowds of negroes, who cast
themselves on the ground as we pursued our way, exclaim¬
ing in tones of surprise, " JMiraculo ! ya no esta prisonero !"
(" A miracle ! he is no longer a prisoner ! "); but whether
they referred to Pierrot or to myself I neither knew nor
cared. We had gained the outskirts of the camp, and
rocks and trees concealed from our view the outposts of
Biassou; Rask in high good humor was running in
front of us, and Pierrot was following him with rapid
strides, when I stopped him.
«Listen to me!" cried I; " it is useless to go any
farther: the ears that you dreaded can no longer listen to
us. What have you done with Marie ? Tell me that!"
Concentrated emotion made my voice tremble. He
gazed upon me kindly.
" Always the same question!" said he.
"Yes, always," returned I, furiously; " always! I will
put that question to you as vou draw your last breath,
or as I utter my last sigh. Where is Marie ? "
" Can nothing, then, drive away your doubts of my
loyalty ? But you shall know all soon."
BUG-JARGAL.
449
" Soon, monster ! " repeated I, " soon! it is now, at
this instant, that I want to know all. Where is Marie ?
Where is Marie ? Answer, or stake your life against
mine. Defend yourself! "
" I have already told you," answered he, sadly," that
that is impossible ; the stream will not struggle against
its source,—and my life, which you have three times
saved, cannot contend against yours. Besides, even if I
wished it, the thing is impossible; we have but one dagger
between us."
As he spoke, he drew the weapon from his girdle and
offered it to me. " Take it," said he.
I was beside myself Avith passion. I seized the dagger
and placed the point on his breast; he never attempted
to move.
" Wretch! " cried I, "do not force me to murder you.
I Avill plunge this blade into your heart if you do not at
once tell me where my wife is!"
He replied in his calm way: "You are the master to
do as you like ; but with clasped hands I implore you
to grant me one hour of life, and to follow me. Can you
doubt him who thrice has owed his life to you, and whom
you once called brother f Listen: if in one hour from
this time you still doubt me, you shall be at perfect
liberty to kill me. That will be time enough ; you see
that i do not attempt to resist you. I conjure you in
the name of Marie,—of your wife," he added slowly, as
though the victim of some painful recollection,—"give
me but another hour, I beg of you, not for my sake, but
for yours."
There was so much pathos in his entreaties that an
inner feeling warned me to grant his request, and I
yielded to that secret ascendency which he exercised
over me, but which at that time I should have blushed
to confess.
" Well," said I, slowly, " I will grant you one hour, and
I am ready to follow you;" and as I spoke I handed him
his dagger.
"No," answered he, "keep it; you still distrust me,
but let us lose no time."
29 *
450
HANS OP ICELAND.
CHAPTER XLII.
Again we started. Rask, who during our conversation
had shoivn frequent signs of impatience to renew his jour¬
ney, bounded joyously before us. We plunged into a
virgin forest, and after half an hour's Avalking came out
on a grassy opening in the wood. On one side was a
waterfall dashing over rugged rocks, while the primeval
trees of the forest surrounded it on all sides. Among
the rocks was a cave, the gray face of which was shrouded
by a mass of climbing plants. Rask ran towards it bark¬
ing ; but at a sign from Pierrot he became silent, and the
latter taking me by the hand led me without a word to
the entrance of the cave.
A woman with her back towards the light was seated
on a mat; at the sound of our steps she turned. My
friends, it was Marie! She wore the same white dress
which she had worn on the day of our marriage, and the
wreath of orange blossoms was still on her head. She
recognized me in a moment, and with a cry of joy threw
herself into my arms. I was speechless with surprise
and emotion. At her cry an old woman carrying a child
in her arms hurried from an inner chamber formed in the
depth of the cave; she was Marie's nurse, and she carried
my uncle's youngest child.
Pierrot hastened to bring some water from the neigh¬
boring spring, and threw a few drops in Marie's face,
who was overcome by emotion; she speedily recovered,
and opening her eyes exclaimed,—
" Leopold ! my Leopold !"
" Marie!" cried I, and my words were stifled in a
kiss.
" Not before me, for pity's sake!" cried a voice, in ac-
- cents of agony.
"We looked round, it came from Pierrot. The sight of
our endearments appeared to inflict terrible torture on
him; his bosom heaved, a cold perspiration bedewed his
forehead, and every limb quivered. Suddenly he hid his
face in his hands and fled from the grotto, repeating in
tones of anguish,—
Marie recognized ine in a moment, and v\ itli a cry of joy threw
herself into my arms. Page 450.
Hans of Iceland.
BUG-JAEGAL.
451
" Not before me ! not before me! "
Marie half raised herself in my arms, and following his
retreating form with her eyes, exclaimed, " Leopold, our
happiness seems to trouble him; can it be that he loves
me ?"
The exclamation of the slave had shown that he was
my rival, but Marie's speech proved that he was my trusty
friend.
" Marie," answered I, as the wildest happiness mingled
with the deepest regret filled my heart, " Marie, were you
ignorant of it ? "
"Until this moment I was," answered she, a blush
overspreading her beautiful features. "Does he really
love me, for he never let me know it ? "
I clasped her to my bosom, in all the madness of hap¬
piness. " I have recovered both wife and friend ! How
happy am I, but how guilty, for I doubted him ! "
" What! " cried Marie, in surprise, " had you doubts of
PieiTot ? Oh, you have indeed been in fault. Twice has
he saved my life, and perhaps more than life," she added,
casting down her eyes. " Without him the alligator
would have devoured me ; without him the negroes—It
was Pierrot who rescued me from their hands when they
were about to send me to rejoin my unhappy father."
She broke off her speech with a flood of tears.
" And why," asked I, " did not Pierrot send you to
Cap, to your husband ? "
" He tried to do so," replied she, " but it was impos¬
sible. Compelled as he was to conceal me both from
the whites and the blacks, his position was a most diffi¬
cult one; and then, too, he was ignorant where you
were. Some said that they had seen you killed, but
Pierrot assured me that this was not the case ; and a
something con^'inced me that he spoke the truth, for I
felt that had you been dead I should have died at the
same time."
" Then, Pierrot brought you here ? " asked I.
"Yes, my Leopold ; this solitary cave is known only
to him. At the same time that he rescued me, he saved
all that remained alive of our family, my little brother
and my old nni^e,—and' hid us here. The place is very
nice, and now that the war has destroyed our house and
452
HAyS OF ICELAND.
ruined us, I should like to live here with you. Pierrot
supplied all our wants. He used to come very often ;
he wore a plume of red feathers on his head. He used
to console me by talking of you, and always assured me
that we should meet again ; but for the past three days
I have not seen him, and I was beginning to be uneasy,
when to-day he came back with you. He had been seek¬
ing for you, had he not?"
" Yes," replied I.
" But if so, how can he be in love with me ? Are you
sure of it ? "
" Quite," answered I. " It was he who was about to
stab me beneath your window, and spared me lest it
should afflict you; it was he who sang the love songs at
the pavilion by the river."
" Then he is your rival," exclaimed Marie, with naive
surprise ; " and the wicked man with the wild marigolds
is Pierrot! I can hardly believe that: he was so re¬
spectful and humble to me, much more so than when he
was our slave. It is true that sometimes he looked at
me in a strange manner, but I attributed his sadness to
our misfortunes. If you could only know with what
tenderness he spoke of you, my Leopold! His friend¬
ship made him speak of you as much as my love did."
These explanations of Marie enchanted and yet grieved
me. I felt how cruelly I had treated the noble-hearted
Pierrot, and I felt all the force of his gentle reproach,
" It is not I who am ungrateful."
At this instant Pierrot returned. His face was dark
and gloomy, and he looked like a martyr returning from
the place of torture, but yet retaining an air of triumph.
He came towards me, and pointing to the dagger in my
belt said, " The hour has passed !"
" Hour! what hour ? " asked I.
" The one you granted me; it was necessary for me to
have so much time allowed me in which to bring you here.
Then I conjured you to spare my life; now I supplicate
you to take it away."
The most tender feelings of the heart—love, gratitude
and friendship—united themselves together to torture me.
Unable to say a word, but sobbing bitterly, I cast myself
at the feet of the slave. He raised me up in haste.
BUG-JARGAL.
453
" What are you doing ? " cried he.
«I pay you the homage that is your due; but I am no
longer worthy of friendship such as yours. Can your
friendship be pushed so far as to forgive me my ingrati¬
tude ? "
For a time his expression remained stern; he appeared
to be undergoing a violent mental contest. He took a
step towards me, then drew back, and seemed on the
point of speaking; but no words passed his lips. The
struggle was a short one, he opened his arms to embrace
me, saying,—
" May I noto call you brother ? "
My only reply was to cast myself on his breast.
After a short pause he added,—
"You were always kind; but misfortune had rendered
you unjust."
" I have found my brother once again," said I. " I
am unfortunate no longer, but I have been very guilty."
" Guilty, brother ? I also have been guilty, and more
so than you; you are no longer unhappy, but I shall be
so forever! "
CHAPTER XLIII.
The expression of pleasure which the renewal of our
friendship had traced on his features faded away, and an
appearance of deep grief once more pervaded them.
"Listen," said he coldly. "My father was the King
of Kakongo. Each day he sat at the door of his hut and
dispensed justice among his subjects. After every judg¬
ment, according to the custom of the kings his ancestors,
he drank a full goblet of palm wine. We were happy
and powerful. But the Europeans came to our country ;
it was from them that I learned the accomplishments
which you appeared to be surprised at my possessing.
Our principal acquaintance among the Europeans was a
Spanish captain; he promised my father territories far
greater than those he now ruled over, treasure, and white
women. My, father believed him, and gathering his
family together, followed him. Brother, he sold us as
elaves!"
454
HANS OF ICELAND.
The breast of the negro rose and fell, as he strove to
restrain himself; his eyes shot forth sparks of fire; and
without seeming to know what he did, he broke in his
powerful grasp a fancy medlar-tree that stood beside
him.
"The master of Kakongo in his turn had a master,
and his son toiled as a slave in the furrows of St. Do¬
mingo. They tore the young lion from his father that
they might the more easily tame him; they separated
the wife from the husband, and the little children from
the mother who nursed them, and from the father who
used to bathe them in the torrents of their native land.
In their place they found cruel masters and a sleeping
place shared with the dogs! "
He was silent, though his lips moved as though he
were still continuing his narrative; after a moment's
pause he seized me roughly by the arm and continued :
" Brother, do you understand ? I have been sold to
different masters like a beast of burden. Do you re¬
member the punishment of Oge? It was on that day
that I saw my father after a long separation: he loas on
the wheel! "
I shuddered; he went on :—
" My wife was outraged by white men, and she died
calling for revenge. I must tell you I was guilty to¬
wards her, for I loved another; but let that pass by.
All my people urged me to deliver and avenge them ;
Rask brought me their messages. I could do nothing
for them, I was fast in your uncle's prison. The day
upon which you obtained my release, I hurried off to
save my children from the power of a cruel master.
Upon the very day that I arrived, the last of the grand¬
children of the King of Kakongo had expired under the
blows of the white man; he had followed the others! "
He interrupted his recital, and coldly asked me:
" Brother, what would you have done ? "
This frightful tale froze me with horror. I replied
by a threatening gestui-e. He understood me, and with
a bitter smile he continued:
" The slaves rose against their master, and punished
the murder of my children. They chose me for tiieir
chief. You know the frightful excesses that were per-
BUG-JARGAL.
455
petrated by the insurgents. I heard that your uncle's
slaves were on the point of rising. I arrived at Acul on
the night upon which the insurrection broke out. You
were away. Your uncle had been murdered in his bed,
and the negroes had already set fire to the plantation.
Not being able to restrain them (for in destroying your
uncle's property they thought that they were avenging
my injuries), I determined to save the survivors of his
family. I entered the fort by the breach that I had
made. I intrusted your wife's nurse to a faithful negro.
* I had more trouble in saving your Marie; she had hur¬
ried to the burning portion of the fort to save the young¬
est of her brothers, the sole survivor of the massacre.
The insurgents surrounded her, and were about to kill
her. I burst upon them, and ordered them to leave her
to my vengeance; they obeyed me, and retired. I took
your wife in my arms ; I intrusted the child to Rask,—
and I bore them both away to this cavern, of which I
alone knew the existence and the access. Brother, such
was my crime ! "
More than ever overwhelmed with gratitude and re¬
morse, I would again have thrown myself at his feet,
but he stopped me.
" Come," said he, " take your wife and let us leave
this, all of us."
In wonder I asked him whither he wished to conduct
us.
" To the camp of the whites," answered he. " This re¬
treat is no longer safe. To-morrow at break of day the
camp of Biassou will be attacked, and the forest will as¬
suredly be set on fire. Besides, I have no time to lose.
Ten lives are in jeopardy until my return. We can
hasten because you are free; we 7nust hasten because I
am not."
These words increased my surprise, and I pressed him
for an explanation.
" Have you not heard that Bug-Jargal is a prisoner ? "
replied he, impatiently.
" Yes ; but what has Bug-Jargal to do with you ? "
In his turn he seemed astonished, and then in a grave
voice he answered : " I am JBug-JargaV
456
HANS OF ICELAND.
CHAPTER XLIV.
I HAD thought that nothing that related to this extraor¬
dinary man could have surprised me. I had experi¬
enced some feelings of astonishment in finding the slave
Pierrot transformed into an African king; but my
admiration reached its height when from his own confes¬
sion I learned that he was the courageous and magnani¬
mous Bug-Jargal, the chief of the insurgents of Morne-
Rouge ; and I now understood the respectful demeanor
shown by all the rebels, even by Biassou, to Bug-Jargal,
the King of Kakongo. He did not notice the impression
that his last words had made upon me.
" They told me," continued he, " that you were a pris¬
oner in Biassou's camp, and I hastened to deliver you."
" But you told me just now that you too were a pris¬
oner."
He glanced inquisitjvely at me, as though seeking my
reason for putting this natural question. " Listen,"
answered he. " This morning I was a prisoner in the
hands of your friends ; but I heard a report that Biassou
had announced his intention of executing, before sunset
to-day, a young prisoner named Leopold d'Auverney.
They doubled my guards, and I Avas informed that my
execution Avould immediately folloAv yours, and that in
the event of escape ten of my comrades would suffer in
my stead. So you see that I have no time to lose."
I still detained him. "You made your escape then? "
asked I.
" How else could I have been here ? It was necessary
to save you. Did I not oAve you my life ? Come, let us
set out ; Ave are an hour's march from the camp of the
Avhites, and about the same distance from that of Biassou.
See, the shadows of the cocoa-nut trees are lengthening,
and their round tops look on the pass like the egg of the
giant condor. In three hours the sun Avill have set. Come,
brother, time Avaits for no man."
In three hours the sun icill have set ! These Avords
froze my blood, like an apparition from the tomb. They
recalled to my mind the fatal promise Avhich bound me to
Biassou. Alas ! in the rapture of seeing Marie again, I
BUG-JARGAL.
457
had not thought of our approaching eternal separation.
I had been overwhelmed with my happiness ; a flood of
joyful emotions had swept away my memory, and in the
midst of my delight I had forgotten that the inexorable
finger of death was beckoning to me. But the words of
my friend recalled everything to my mind. Tn three hours
the sun will have set! It would take an hour to reach
Biassou's camp. There could be no faltering with my duty.
The villain had my word, and it would never do to give
him the chance of despising what he seemed still to put
trust in,—the word of a Frenchman ; better far to die.
The alternative was a terrible one, and I confess that I
hesitated for a moment before I chose the right course.
Can you blame me, gentlemen ?
CHAPTER XLV.
With a deep sigh, I placed one hand in that of Bug-
Jargal, and the other in that of Marie, who gazed with
anxiety on the sadness that had overspread my features.
" Bug-Jargal," said I, struggling with emotion, " I in¬
trust to you the only being in the world that I love more
than you,—my Marie. Return to the camp without me,
for I may not follow you."
" Great heavens ! " exclaimed Marie, hardly able to
breathe from her terror and anxiety, " what new misfor¬
tune is this ? "
Bug-Jargal trembled, and a look of mingled sorrow and
surprise passed over his face. " Brother, what is this
that you say ? "
The terror that had seized upon Marie at the thought
of the coming misfortune, which her love for me had
almost caused her to divine, made me determine to spare
her the dreadful truth for the moment. I placed my mouth
to Bug-Jargal's ear, and whispered in hurried accents :
" I am a prisoner. I swore to Biassou that two hours
before sunset I would once more place myself in his hands;
in fact, I have sworn to return to my death ! "
Filled with rage, in a loud voice he exclaimed : " The
monster ! This then was his motive for a secret inter¬
view withyeu : it was to bind you with this fatal prum-
458
HANS OF ICELAND.
ise. I ought to have distrusted the wretch. "Why did
I not foresee that there must be some treachery lurking
in the request, for he is a mulatto, not a black."
" What is this—what treachery—what promise ? " said
Marie in an agony of terror. " And who is Biassou ? "
" Silence, silence,' repeated I, in a low voice to Bug-
Jargal; " do not let us alarm Marie."
" Good," answered he ; " but why did you give such a
pledge,—how could you consent ? "
" I tliought that you had deceived me, and that Marie
was lost to me forever. What was life to me then ? "
« But a simple promise cannot bind you to a brigand
like that."
" I gave my word of. honor."
He did not seem to understand me. " Your word of
honor," repeated he; "but what is that? You did not
drink out of the same cup ; you have not broken a ring
together, or a brancli of the red-blossomed maple ? "
" No, we have done none of these things."
" Well, then, what binds you to him ? "
" My honor ! "
" I cannot understand you ; nothing pledges you to
Biassou ; come Avith us! "
" I cannot, my brother, for I am bound by my promise."
" No, you are not bound," cried he, angrily. " Sister,
add your prayers to mine, and entreat your husband not
to leave you. He Avishes to return to the negro camp
from AA'hich I rescued him, on the plea that he has promised
to place his life in Biassou's hands."
" What have you done ? " cried I.
It Avas too late to stay the effects of the generous im¬
pulse that had promi)ted him to endeaA'or to save the
life of his riA-al by the help of her he loA'cd. Marie cast
herself into my arms Avith a cry of anguish, her hands
clasped my neck, and she hung upon my breast speech¬
less and breathless.
" Oh, my Leopold, Avhat does he say ? " murmured she,
at last. " Is he not deceiving me ? it is not immediately
after our reunion that you must quit me again. AnsAver
me quickl_A% or I shall die. You have no right to throAv
aAA'ay your life, for you have given it to me. You Avould
not leave me, never to see me again ? "
Tira-JAnoAL.
450
" Marie," answered I, " we shall meet again, but it will
be in another place."
" In another place ! Where ? " she asked, in faltering
accents.
" In heaven," I answered ; for to this angel I could not
lie.
Again she fainted, but this time it was from grief. I
raised her up, and placed her in the arms of Bug-Jargal,
whose eyes were full of tears.
" Nothing can keep you back, then," said he. " I will
add nothing to my entreaties ; this sight ought to be
enough. How can you resist jMarie ? For one word such
as she has spoken to you I would have sacrificed the
world ; and you cannot even give uiJ death for her !"
" Honor binds me," answered I, sadly. " Farewell,
Bug-Jargal! farewell, brother ! I leave her to you."
He grasped my hand, overwhelmed with grief, and
appeared hardly to understand me. " Brother," said he,
" in the camp of the whites there are some of your rela¬
tives ; I will give her over to them. For my part, I can¬
not accept your legacy."
He pointed to a rocky crag which towered high above
the adjacent country. " Do you see that rock ? " asked
he ; " when the signal of your death shall float from it, it
will promptly be answered by the volley that announces
mine."
Hardly understanding his last words, I embraced him,
pressed a kiss upon the pale lips of Marie, who was
slowly recovering under the attentions of her nurse, and
fled precipitately, fearing that another look or word
would shake my resolution.
CHAPTER XLVI.
I RUSHED headlong, and plunged into the depth of the
forest, following the tracks that we had left but a short
time before, not daring to cast a last glance behind me.
To stifle the grief which oppressed my heart, I dashed,
without a moment's pause, through the thickets, past
hill and plain, until I reached the crest of a rock from
which I could see the camp of Biassou, with its lines of
460
UANfi OF ICKLANT).
wagons and huts swarming with life, and looking in the
distance like a vast ant-hill. Then I halted, for I felt
that I had reached the end of my journey and my life at
the same time. Fatigue and emotion had weakened my
physical powers, and I leaned against a tree to save nij'-
self from falling, and allowed my eyes to wander over
the plain, which was to be my place of execution.
Up to this moment I had imagined that I had di'ained
the cup of bitterness and gall to the dregs; but I had
not until then tasted the most cruel of all misfortunes,—
that of being constrained by powerful moral force to
voluntarily renounce life when it appeared most sweet.
Some hours before, I cared not for the world; extreme
despair is a simulation of death which makes the reality
more earnestly desired. Marie had been restored to me,
my dead happiness had been resuscitated, my past had
become my future, and all my overshadowed hopes had
beamed forth more gloriously than ever; and again had a
new life,—a life of youth and love and enchantment,—
shone gloriously upon the horizon. I was ready to enter
upon this life ; everything invited me to it; no material
obstacle, no hindrance, was apparent. 1 was free, I was
happy, and yet—I was about to die. I had made but
one step into paradise, and a hidden duty compelled me
to retrace it, and to enter upon a path the goal of which
was death!
Death has but few terrors for the crushed and broken
spirit; but how heavy and icy is his hand when it grasps
the heart which had just begun to live and revel in the
joys of life ! I felt that I had emerged from the tomb,
and had for a moment enjoyed the greatest delights of
life, love, friendship, and liberty; and now the door of
the sepulcher was again opened, and an unseen force
compelled me once more to enter it forever.
CHAPTER XLVII.
"Whex the first bitter pang of grief had passed, a kind
of fury took possession of me; and I entered the valley
with a rapid step, for I felt the necessity of shortening
the period of suspense. "When I presented myself at the
BUG-JARGAL.
461
negro outpost, the sergeant in command at first refused
to permit me to pass. It seemed strange that I should
be obliged to have recourse to entreaties to enable me to
effect my object. At last two of them seized me by the
arms and led me into Biassou's presence.
As I entered the grotto he was engaged in examining
the springs of various instruments of torture with which
he was surrounded. At the noise my guard made in
introducing me he turned his head, but my presence did
not seem to surprise him.
" Do you see these ? " asked he, displaying the horri¬
ble engines which lay before him.
I remained calm and impassive, for I knew the cruel
nature of the " hero of humanity," and I was determined
to endure to the end without blenching.
" Leogri was lucky in being only hung, was he not ? "
asked he, with his sardonic sneer.
I gazed upon him with cold disdain, but I made no
reply.
" Tell his reverence the chaplain that the prisoner has
returned," said he to an aide-de-camp.
During the absence of the negro, we both remained
silent, but I could see that he watched me narrowly.
Just then Kigaud entered; he seemed agitated, and
whispered a few words to the general.
"Summon the chiefs of the different bands," said
Biassou, calmly.
A quarter of an hour afterwards, the different chiefs
in their strange equipments were assembled in the
grotto. Biassou rose.
" Listen to me, friends and comrades! The whites
will attack us here at daybreak; our position is a bad
one, and we must quit it. At sunset we will march to
the Spanish frontier. Macaya, you and your negroes
will form the advanced guards. Padrejan, see that the
guns taken at Pralato are spiked; we cannot take them
into the mountains. The brave men of Croix-des-Bouquets
will follow Macaya; Toussaint will come next with the
blacks from Leogane and Trose. If the griots or the
griotes make any disturbance, I will hand them over to
the executiorter of the army. Lieutenant-Colonel Cloud
will distribute the English muskets that were disem-
462
HANS OF ICELAND.
barked at Cape Cabron, and will lead the half-breeds
through the by-ways of the Vista. Slaughter any pris¬
oners that may remain, notch the bullets, and poison
the arrows. Let three tons of arsenic be thrown into
the wells ; the colonists will take it for sugar, and drink
without distrust. Block up the roads to the plain with
rocks, line the hedges with marksmen, and set fire to
the forest, Rigaud, you will remain with me; Candi,
summon my body-guard. The negroes of Morne-Rouge
will form the rear-guard, and will not evacuate the camp
until sunrise."
He leaned over to Rigaud, and whispered hoarsely:
" They are Bug-Jargal's men; if they are killed, all the
better. 'Muerta la tropa, murte el gefe !' ('If the men
die, the chief will die.')
" Go, my brethren," he added, rising, " you will re¬
ceive instructions from Candi."
The chiefs left the grotto.
" General," remarked Rigaud, « we ought to send that
dispatch of Jean Frangois; affairs are going badly, and
it would stop the advance of the whites."
Biassou drew it hastily from his pocket. "I agree
with you; but there are so many faults, both in gram¬
mar and spelling, that they will laugh at it."
He presented the paper to me. " For the last time,
will you save your life ? My kindness gives you a last
chance. Help me to correct this letter, and to re-write
it in proper official style."
I shook my head.
" Do you mean no ? " asked he.
" I do," I replied.
" Reflect," he answered, with a sinister glance at the
instruments of torture.
" It is because I have reflected that I refuse," replied
I. " You are alarmed for the safety of yourself and your
men, and you count upon this letter to delay the just
vengeance of the whites. I do not desire to retain a
life which may perhaps have saved yours. Let my ex¬
ecution commence."
" Ha, boy !" exclaimed Biassou, touching the instru¬
ments of torture with his foot, " you are growing familiar
with these, are you? I am sorry, but I have.not the
BUG-JARGAL.
463
time to try them on you; our position is a dangerous
one, and we must get out of it as soon as we can. And
so you refuse to act as my secretary? Well, you are
I'iglit; for it would not after all have saved your miser¬
able life, which, by the way, I have promised to his
reverence my chaplain. Do "you think that I would
permit any one to live who holds the secrets of Biassou ? "
He turned to the Obi, who just then entered. " Good
father, is your guard ready ? "
The latter made a sign in the affirmative.
" Have you taken it from among the negroes of Morne-
Rouge, for they are the only ones who are not occupied
in preparations for departure ? "
Again the Obi bowed his head.
Then Biassou pointed out to me the black flag which
I had before remarked in a corner of the grotto. " That
will show your friends when the time comes to give your
place to your lieutenant. But I have no more time to
lose; I must be off. By the'way, you have been for a
little excursion; how did you like the neighborhood ? "
" I noticed that there were enough trees upon which
to hang you and all your band."
"Ah," retorted he, with his hideous laugh, "there is
one place that you have not seen, but with which the
good father will make you acquainted. Adieu, my
young captain, and give my compliments to Leogri."
He bade me farewell with a chuckle that reminded
me of the hiss of the rattlesnake, and turned his back
as the negroes dragged me away. The veiled Obi fol¬
lowed us, his rosary in his hand.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
I WALKED between my guards without offering any
resistance, which would indeed have been hopeless.
We ascended the shoulder of a hill on the western side
of the plain, and then my escort sat down for a brief
period of repose. As we did so, I cast a last lingering
look at the setting sun, which would never rise again
for me on this earth.
When my guards rose to their feet, I followed their
464
HANS OF ICELAND.
example, and we descended into a little dell, the beauty
of which under any other circumstances would have
filled me with admiration. A mountain stream ran
through the bottom of the dell, which by its refreshing
coolness produced a thick and luxuriant growth of vege¬
tation, and fell into one *of those dark-blue lakes with
which the hills of St. Domingo abound. How often in
happier days have I sat and dreamed on the borders of
these beautiful lakes, in the twilight hour, when be¬
neath the influence of the moon their deep azure changed
into a sheet of silver, or when the reflections of the stars
sowed the surface with a thousand golden spangles!
How lovely this valley appeared to me! There were
magnificent plane-trees of gigantic growth, closely grown
thickets of mauritias, a kind of palm, which allows no
other vegetation to flourish beneath its shade; date-trees
and magnolias with the goblet-shaped flowers. The tall
catalpa, with its polished and exquisitely chiseled
blossoms, stood out in relief against the golden buds of
the ebony-trees; the Canadian maple mingled its yellow
flowers with the blue aureolas of that species of the wild
honeysuckle which the negroes call " coali"; thick cur¬
tains of luxurious creepers concealed the bare sides of the
rocks, while from the virgin soil rose a soft perfume, such
as the first man may have inhaled amidst Eden's groves.
We continued our way along a footpath traced on the
brink of the torrent. I was surprised to notice that this
path closed abruptly at the foot of a tall peak, in which
was a natural archway, from which flowed a rapid torrent.
A dull roar of falling waters, and an impetuous wind is¬
sued from this natural tunnel. The negroes who escorted
me took a path to the left which led into a cavern, and
seemed to be the bed of a torrent that had long been
dried up. Overhead I could see the rugged roof, half
hidden by masses of vegetation, and the same sound of
falling waters filled the whole of the vault.
As I took the first step into the cavern, the Obi came
to my side, and whispered in a hoarse voice, " Listen to
what I have to predict: only one of us two shall leave by
this path and issue again from the entrance of the cave.
I disdained to make any reply, and we advanced fur¬
ther into the gloom. The noise became louder, and
nCTG-JARGAL.
drowned the sound of our footfalls. I fancied that there
must be a waterfall near, and I was not deceived. After
moving through the darkness for nearly ten minutes, we
found ourselves on a kind of internal platform caused by
the central formation of the mountain. The larger por¬
tion of this platform, which was of a semicircular shape,
was inundated by a torrent which burst from the interior
of the mountain with a terrible din. Above this subter¬
ranean hall the roof rose into the shape of a dome, covered
with moss of a yellowish hue. A large opening was
formed in the dome, through which the daylight pene¬
trated ; and the sides of the crevice were fringed with
green trees, gilded just now by the last rays of the setting
sun. At the northern extremity of the platform the tor¬
rent fell with a frightful noise into a deep abyss, over
which appeared to float, without being able to illuminate
its depths, a feeble portion of the light which came through
the aperture in the roof.
Over this terrible precipice hung the trunk of an old
tree, whose topmost branches were filled with the foam of
the waterfall, and whose knotty roots pierced through the
rock two or three feet below the brink. This tree, whose
top and roots were both swept by the torrent, hung over
the abyss like a skeleton arm, and was so destitute of
foliage that I could not distinguish its species. It had a
strange and weird appearance ; the humidity which satu¬
rated its roots prevented it from dying, while the force
of the cataract tore off its new shoots, and only left
it with the branches that had strength to resist the force
of the water.
CHAPTER XLIX.
In this terrible spot the negroes came to a halt, and I
knew that my hour had come. It was in this abyss,
then, that was to be sunk all my hopes in this world.
The image of the happiness which but a few hours be¬
fore I had voluntarily renounced brought to my heart a
feeling of regret, almost one of remorse. To pray for
mercy was utiworthy of me, but I could not refrain from
giving utterance to my regrets.
3° .
HANS OF ICELAND.
" Friends," said I to the negroes who surrounded me,
" it is a sad thing to die at twenty years of age, full of
life and strength, when one is loved by one whom in
your turn you adore, and when you leave behind you
eyes that will ever weep for your untimely end."
A mocking burst of laughter hailed my expression of
regret. It came from the little Obi. This species of
evil spirit, this living mystery, approached me roughly.
" Ha, ha, ha! you regret life then, labadosea Dios!
My only fear was that death would have no terrors for
you."
It was the same votee, the same laugh that had so
often before baffled my conjectures. "Wretch!" ex¬
claimed I, " who are you ? "
"You are going to learn," replied he, in a voice of
concentrated passion; and thrusting aside the silver sun
that half concealed his brown chest, he exclaimed,
" Look!
I bent forward. Two names were written in white
letters on the hairy chest of the Obi, showing but too
clearly the hideous and ineffaceable brand of the heated
iron. One of these names was Effingham; the other
was that of my uncle and myself, D'Auverney 1 I was
struck dumb with surprise.
"Well, Leopold d'Auverney," asked the Obi, "does
not your name tell you mine ? "
" No," answered I, astonished to hear the man name
me, and seeking to re-collect my thoughts. " These
two names were only to be found thus united upon the
chest of my uncle's fool. But the poor dwarf is dead ;
and besides that, he was devotedly attached to us. You
cannot be Habibrah."
"No other!" shrieked he; and easting aside the
blood-stained cap, he raised his veil and showed me the
hideous features of the household fool. But a threaten¬
ing and sinister expression had usurped the half imbe¬
cile smile which was formerly eternally imprinted on
his features.
" Great God !" exclaimed I, overwhelmed with sur¬
prise, " do all the dead, then, come back to life ? It fs
Habibrah, my uncle's fool! "
" His fool, and also his murderer,"
BUG-JABGAL.
407
I recoiled from him in horror. " His murderer, wretch!
Was it thus that you repaid his kindness—"
He interrupted me. " His kindness! rather say his
insults."
" What!" I again cried, " was it you, villain, who
struck the fatal blow ? "
" It was," he replied, with a terrible expression upon
his face. " I plunged my knife so deeply into his heart
that he had hardly time to cast aside sleep before death
claimed him. He cried out feebly, ' Habibrah, come to
me !' but I was with him already / "
The cold-blooded manner in which he narrated the
murder disgusted me. "Wretch! cowardly assassin!
You forgot, then, all his kindness; that you ate at his
table, and slept at the foot of his bed—"
" Like a dog!" interrupted Habibrah, roughly, " como
un perro. I thought too much of what you call his
kindness, but which I looked upon as insults. I took
vengeance upon him, and I will do the same upon you.
Listen: do you think that because I am a mulatto and a
deformed dwarf that I am not a man ? Ah, I have a soul
stronger, deeper, and bolder than the one that I am about
to set free from your girlish frame. I was given to your
uncle as if I had been a pet monkey. I was his butt; I
amused him, while he despised me. He loved me, do you
say? Yes, forsooth; I had a place in his heart between
his dog and his parrot; but I found a better place there
with my dagger."
I shuddered.
" Yes," continued the dwarf, " it was I, I that did it all.
Look me well in the face, Leopold d'Auverney: you have
often laughed at me, now you shall tremble before me.
And you dare to speak of your uncle's liking for me,—a
liking that carried degradation with it. If I entered
the room, a shout of contemptuous laughter was my greet¬
ing; my appearance, my deformities, my features, my
costume,—all furnished food for laughter to your accursed
uncle ^nd his accursed friends, while I was not allowed
even to remain silent; it was necessary for me to join in
the very laughter that was leveled at me ! I foaTii with
rage while I think of it. Answer me : do you think that
after such Irtiiniliations I could feel anything but the
468
HANS OF ICELAND.
deadliest hatred for the creature that inflicted them upon
me ? Do you not think that they were a thousand times
harder to endure than the toil in the burning sun, the fet¬
ters, and the whip of the driver, which were the lot of the
other slaves ? Do you not think that they would cause
ardent, implacable, and eternal hatred to spring up in
the heart of man as lasting as the accursed brand which
degrades my chest? Has not the vengeance that I have
taken for my sufferings been short and insufficient. Why
could I not make my tyrant suffer something of what I
endured for so many years ? Why could he not before
his death know the bitterness of wounded pride, and feel
what burning traces the tears of shame leave upon a face
condemned to wear a perpetual smile ? Alas! it is too
hard to have waited so long for the hour of vengeance,
and then only to find it in a dagger thrust! Had he but
known the hand that struck him, it would have been
something; but I was too eager to hear his dying groan,
and I drove the knife too quickly home: he died without
having recognized me, and my eagerness balked my
vengeance. This time, however, it shall be more com¬
plete. You see me, do you not ? Though in point of fact
you may be unable to recognize me in my new character.
You have always been in the habit of seeing me laughing
and joyous ] but now nothing prevents me from letting
my true nature appear on my face, and I do not greatly
resemble my former self. You only knew my mask;
look now upon my leal face ! "
At that moment his appearance was truly terrible.
" Monster! " exclaimed I, " you deceive yourself; there is
more of buffoonery than heroism in your face even now,
and nothing in your heart but cruelty."
" Do not speak of cruelty," retorted he, " think of your
uncle—"
"Wretch!" returned I, «if he were cruel, it was at
your instigation. You, to pretend to pity the position of
the poor slaves! Why, then, did you not exert all your
influence to make their master treat them less harshly ?
Why did you never intercede in their favor?"
"I would not have done so for the world. Would I
ever attempt to hinder a white man from blackening his
soul l^y an act of cruelty ? No, no ! I urged him to in-
BUG-JARGAL.
409
flict more and more punishment upon his slaves, so as to
hurry on the revolt, and thus draw down a surer venge¬
ance upon the heads of our oppressors. In seeming to
injure my brethren I was serving them."
I was thunderstruck at such a cunning act of diplo¬
macy carried out by such a man.
"Well," continued the dwarf, "do you believe now
that I had the brain to conceive and the hand to execute ?
What do you think of Habibrah the buffoon? What
do you think of your uncle's ' fool' ? "
"Finish what you have begun so well," replied I.
" Let me die, but let there be no more delay." ^
" And suppose I wish for delay ? Suppose that it does
my heart good to watch you in the agonies of suspense ?
You see Biassou owed me my share in the last plunder.
When I saw you in our camp I asked for your life as my
share, and he granted it Avillingly ; and now you are
mine, I am amusing myself with you. Soon you will
follow the stream of the cataract into the abyss beneath;
but before doing so, let me tell you that I have discov¬
ered the spot where your wife is concealed, and it was I
that advised Biassou to set the forest on fire: the work,
I imagine, is already begun. Thus your family will be
swept from the face of the earth. Your uncle fell by
steel, you will perish by water, and your Marie by fire !"
" Villain ! villain! " I exclaimed, and I made an effort
to seize him by the throat, but a wave of his hand
summoned my guards.
" Bind him ! " cried he; " he precipitates his hour of
doom!"
In dead silence the negroes began to bind me with the
cords that they had carried with them. Suddenly I
fancied that I heard the distant barking of a dog, but
this sound might be only an illusion caused by the noise
of the cascade.
The negroes had finished binding me, and placed me
on the brink of the abyss into which I was so soon to be
hurled. The dwai'f, with folded arms, gazed upon the
scene with a sinister expression of joy. I lifted my eyes
to the opening in tlie roof so as to avoid the triumphant
expression of malice painted on his countenance, and to
take one last look at the blue sky. At that instant the
470 ' I1A:SS OF ICELAND.
barking was more distinctly heard, and the enormous
head of Rask appeared at the opening. I trembled.
The dwarf exclaimed, " Finish with him!" and the
negroes, who had not noticed the dog, raised me in their
arms to hurl me into the hell of waters which roared and
foamed beneath me.
CHAPTER L.
" CoMKADES!" cried a voice of thunder.
All looked at the spot from whence the sound proceeded.
Bug-Jargal was standing on the edge of the opening, a
crimson plume floating on his head.
" Comrades," repeated he, " stay your hands!"
The negroes prostrated themselves upon the earth in
token of submission.
" I am Bug-Jargal! " continued he.
The negroes struck the earth rvith their heads, uttering
cries the meaning of which I could not comprehend.
"Unbind the prisoner!" commanded the chief.
But now the dwarf appeared to recover from the stu¬
por into which the sudden appearance of Bug-Jargal had
thrown him, and he seized by the arm the negro who
was preparing to cut the cords that bound me. " What
is the meaning of this? What are you doing?" cried he.
Then, raising his voice, he addressed Bug-Jargal:
" Chief of Morne-Rouge," cried he, " what are you doing
here ? "
"I have come to command my own men," was the
reply.
"Yes," answered the dwarf, in tones of concentrated
passion, " these negroes do certainly belong to your band;
but," added he, raising his voice again, " by what right
do you interfere with my prisoner ? "
The chief answered, "I am Bug-Jargal! " and again the
negroes struck the ground with their foreheads.
" Bug-Jargal," continued Habibrah," cannot contravene
the orders of Biassou. This white man was given to me
by Biassou; I desire his death, and die he shall. Obey
me,"he added, turning to the negroes, "andhurl him into
the abyss!"
BUG-JARGAL.
471
At the well-known voice of the Obi the negroes rose
to their feet and took a step towards me. I thought all
was lost.
" Unbind the prisoner ! " cried Bug-Jargal again.
In an instant I was free. My surprise was equaled by
the fury of the Obi. He attempted to throw himself
upon me. The negroes interfered; then he burst out
into imprecations and threats.
"Demonios! rabia! inferno de mi alma! How,
wretches, you refuse to obey me ? Do you not recognize
my voice? Why did I lose time in talking to this ac¬
cursed one ? I ought to have had him hurled without
delay to the fishes of the gulf. By wishing to make my
vengeance more eomplete I have lost it altogether. Ora-
hia de Satan. Listen to me: if you do not obey me, and
hurl him into the abyss, I will eurse you; your hair
shall grow white, the mosquitoes and sandflies shall eat
you up alive ; your legs and your arms shall bend like
reeds; your breath shall burn your throat like red-hot
sand; you shall die young, and after your death your
spirit shall be eompelled to turn a millstone as big as a
mountain, in the moon where it is always cold I "
The scene was a strange one. I was the only one of
my eolor in a damp and gloomy cavern surrounded by
negroes with the aspects of demons, balanced as it were
upon the edge of a bottomless gulf, and every now and
then threatened by a deformed dwarf, by a hideous sor¬
cerer upon whose striped garments and pointed cap the
fading light shone faintly, yet protected by a tall negro
who was standing at the only point from which day¬
light could be seen. It appeared to me almost that I was
at the gates of hell, awaiting the conflict between my
good and evil angels, to result in the salvation or the de¬
struction of my soul. The negroes appeared to be ter¬
rified at the threats of the Obi, and he endeavored to
profit by their indecision.
" I desire the death of the white man, and he shall die ;
obey me ! "
Bug-Jargal replied solemnly: "He shall live! I am
Bug-.Jargal; my father was the King of Kakongo who
dispensed justice^at the gate of his palace."
Again the negroes cast themselves upon the ground.
472
BANS OF ICELAND.
The chief continued: " Brethren, go and tell Biassou
not to unfurl the black banner upon the mountain-top
which should announce to the whites the signal of this
man's death, for he was the savior of Bug-Jargal's life,
and Bug-Jargal wills that he should live."
They rose up. Bug-Jargal threw his red plume on the
ground before them. The chief of the guard picked it
up with every show of respect, and they left the cavern
without a word. The Obi, with a glance of rage, followed
them down the subterranean avenue.
I will not attempt to describe my feelings at that
moment. I fixed my eyes, wet with tears, upon Pierrot,
who gazed upon me with a singular expression of love
and tenderness.
" God be praised," said he, " you are saved! Brother,
go back by the road by which you entered; you will
meet me again in the valley."
He waved his hand to me and disappeared from my
sight.
CHAPTER LI.
Eager to arrive at the appointed meeting-place, and
to learn by what fortunate means my savior had been
enabled to make his appearance at so opportune a moment,
I prepared to leave the cavern in which my nerves had
been so severely tried; but as I prepared to enter the
subterranean passage an unexpected obstacle presented
itself in my path. It was Habibrah!
The revengeful Obi had not in reality followed the
negroes as I had believed, but had concealed himself be¬
hind a rocky projection of the cave, waiting for a propi¬
tious moment for his vengeance; and this moment had
come. He laughed bitterly as he showed himself. A
dagger, the same that he was in the habit of using for
a crucifix, shone in his right hand. At the sight of it I
recoiled a step.
"Ha, accursed one! did you think to escape me? But
the fool is not such a fool after all! I have you, and this
time there shall be no delay. Your friend Bug-Jargal
shall not wait for you long,—you shall soon be at the
liUG-JARGAL.
473
meeting-place; but it will be the wave of the cataract
that shall bear you there."
As he spoke he dashed at me with uplifted weapon.
" Monster! " cried I, retreating to the platform, " just
now you were only an executioner; now you are a
murderer."
" I am an avenger!" returned he, grinding his teeth.
I was on the edge of the precipice; he endeavored to
hurl me over with a blow of his dagger. I avoided it.
His foot slipped on the treacherous moss which covered
the rocks, and he rolled into the slope polished and
rounded by the constant flow of water.
" A thousand devils !" roared he.
He had fallen into the abyss. I have already men¬
tioned that the roots of the old tree projected through
the crevices of the rocks, a little below the edge of the
precipice. In his fall the dwarf struck against these,
and his striped petticoat caught in them ; he grasped at
them as a last hope of safety, and clung to them with
all the energy of despair. His pointed bonnet fell from
his head ; to maintain his position he had to let go his
dagger, and the two together disappeared in the depths
of the abyss.
Habibrah, suspended over the terrible gulf, strove
vainly to regain the platform, but his short arms could
not reach the rocky edge, and he broke his nails in use¬
less efforts to obtain a hold on the muddy surface of the
rocks which sloped down into the terrible abyss. He
howled with rage. The slightest push on my part would
have been suflBcient to hurl him to destruction ; but such
an act would have been one of cowardice, and I made no
movement. This moderation on my part seemed to sur¬
prise him. Thanking Heaven for its mercies, I deter¬
mined to abandon him to his fate, and was about to
leave the cave, when, in a voice broken with fear, and
which appeared to come from the depths of the abyss, he
addressed me.
" Ma.ster," cried he, " master, do not go, for pity's sake !
Do not, in the name of Heaven, leave a guilty creature to
perish whom it is in your power to save ! Alas! my
strength is fsdling me ; the roots bend and slip through
my fingers ; the weight of my body drags me down: I
JIAXS OF ICELAND.
mnst let go or my arms will lareak! Alas! master, the
fearful gulf boils and seethes beneath me ! Nomhre santo
cle Dios ! Have you no pity for the poor fool ? He has
been very guilty, but prove that the white men are better
than the mulattoes, the masters than the slaves, by sav¬
ing him!"
I approached the brink of the precipice, and the feeble
light that broke through the aperture in the roof showed
me on the repulsive features of the dwarf an expression
which I had never noticed before,—that of prayer and
supplication.
" Senor Leopold," continued he, encouraged by the
movement of pity that I showed, " can you see a fellow-
creature in so terrible a position of peril, "SAdthout stretch¬
ing out a hand to save him ? Give me your hand, mas¬
ter ; with very slight assistance from you I can save my¬
self : I only ask for a little help. Help me then, and my
gratitude shall be as great as my crimes!"
I interrupted him. " Unhappy wretch, do not recall
them to my memory."
" It is because I repent of them that I do so. Oh, be
generous to me! O heavens, my hand relaxes its grasp,
and I fall! Ay desdichmlo I Your hand, your hand!
in the name of the mother who bore you, give me your
hand ! "
I cannot describe the tone of agony in which he pleaded
for help. In this moment of peril I forgot all; he was
no longer an enemy, a traitor, and an assassin, but an un¬
happy fellow-creature, whom a slight exertion upon my
part could rescue from a frightful death. He implored
me in heartrending accents. Reproaches would have
been fruitless and out of place. The necessity for help
was urgent and immediate. I stooped and knelt down
on the brink of the pi'ecipice, and grasping the trunk of
the tree with one hand, I extended the other to Habib-
rah.
As soon as it was within his reach, he grasped it with
both his hands, and hung on to it with all his strength.
Far from attempting to aid me in iny. efforts to draw
him up, I felt that he was exerting all his powers to
draw me down with him into the abyss.. If it had not
been for the assistance afforded to me by the trunk of
BVn-JARGAL.
475
the tree, I must infallibly have been dragged over by
the violent and unexpected jerk that the wretched man
gave me.
" Villain!" cried I, "what are you doing ?"
"Avenging myself!" answered be, with a peal of
devilish laughter. "Aha, madman! have I got you in
my clutches once more? You have of your own free¬
will placed yourself again in my power, and I hold you
tight. You were saved and 1 was lost; and yet you of
your own accord place your head between the jaws of
the alligator, because it wept after having roared. I can
bear death, since it will give me revenge. You are caught
in the trap, ainigo, and I shall take a companion with me
to feed the fishes of the lake."
" Ah, traitor!" cried I, struggling with all my strength,
" is it thus that you serve me when I was trying to save
you?"
" Yes," hissed he. "I know that we could have saved
ourselves together, but I would rather that we should die
at the same irioment. I had rather compass your death
than save my life. Comedown!"
As he spoke, his brown muscular hands renewed their
grasp upon mine with unexpected strength; his eyes
blazed, his mouth foamed. The strength, the departure
of which he had before so piteously bewailed, had re¬
turned to him increased a thousandfold by the hope of
revenge. His feet were planted like two perpendicular
levers on a ledge of rock, and he struggled like a tiger
against the root which, entangled in his. clothes, supported
him in spite of himself; for he was endeavoring with
all his might to shake himself free, so as to bring all his
weight to bear on me, and to drag me more quickly into
the yawning gulf below. In his rage he endeavored to
bite me, while his hideous features were rendered more
terrible by their expression of satanic frenzy. He looked
like the demon of the cave seeking to drag down his
victim to his abode of gloom and darkness.
One of my knees, by good fortune, was planted in a
groove of the rock, and my arm was wound round the
trunk of the tree, and I strove against the efforts of the
dwarf with ^11 the strength that the feeling of self-
preservation could give me at such a moment. Every
476
BANS OF ICELAND.
now and then I drew a long breath, and shouted " Bug-
Jargal! " with all the force of my lungs. But the roar of
the cascade and the distance that he must be off gave me
but faint hopes of my voice reaching him.
The dwarf, who had not anticipated so vigorous a re¬
sistance on my part, redoubled his efforts. I began to
grow weak, though in reality the struggle had not taken
so long as the narration of it. A violent pain paralyzed
my arm, my sight grew dim, bright sparks flashed be¬
fore my eye.s, and a buzzing sound filled my ears. I
heard the creaking of the root as it bent, mingled with
the laugh of the monster, and the abyss seemed to rise
up towards me as though eager to engulf its prey. Biit
before I gave up all hope I made a last effort and collect¬
ing together my exhausted forces, I once again shouted,
" Bug-Jargal! "
A loud bark replied to me ; it was Rask who thus an¬
swered my appeal for help. I glanced upwards: Bug-
Jargal and his dog we're gazing at me from the orifice in
the roof. He saw my danger at once. " Hold on!"
cried he.
Habibrah, fearing that I might yet be saved, foamed
with rage ; and crying, " Come down there! come doATO!"
he renewed the attack with almost supernatural vigor.
At this moment, weakened by the long struggle, my
arm lost its hold of the tree. All seemed over Avith me,
when I felt myself seized from behind. It was Rask ! At
a sign from his master he had leaped doAvn on the plat¬
form, and seized me by the skirts of my uniform Avith his
poAverful teeth.
This unlooked-for aid saved me. Habibrah had ex¬
hausted all his strength in a last convulsive effort; Avhilc
I put forth all mine, and succeeded in AvithdraAving my
hand from his cramped and SAVollen fingers. The root,
which had been for some time yielding, noAV parted sud¬
denly ; Rask gave me a violent pull backAvards, and the
wretched dAvarf disappeaied in the foam of the ca.scade,
hurling a curse at me Avhich was SAvalloAved up Avith him
in the Avhirl of waters.
Such was the terrible end of my uncle's fool.
BUG-JAROAL.
«
477
CHAPTER LII.
The excitement of the last few hours, the terrible
struggle and its awful conclusion, had utterly exhausted
iiie; and I lay where I had fallen, almost deprived of
sense or power of motion. The voice of Bug-Jargal re¬
stored me to myself.
" Brother," cried he, «hasten to leave this place. In
half an hour the sun will have set; I will meet you in the
valley. Follow Rask."
The words of my friend restored hope, strength, and
courage to me. I rose to my feet. The great dog ran
rapidly down the subterranean passage; I followed him,
his bark guiding me through the darkness. After a time
I saw a streak of light, and in a few minutes I gained the
entrance, and breathed more freely as I passed through
the archway. As I left the damp and gloomy vault be¬
hind me, I recalled to my mind the prediction of the dwarf,
and its fatal fulfilment, " One only of us shall return
by this road !" His attempt had failed, but the prophecy
had been carried out.
CHAPTER LIII.
Bxjg-Jaegal was waiting for me in the valley. I
threw myself into his arms ; but I had so many questions
to put to him that I could not find words in which to
express them.
" Listen to me," said he. " Your wife, my sister, is in
safety in the camp of the white men ; I handed her over
to a relative of yours who was in command of the out¬
posts, and I wished again to constitute myself a prisoner,
lest they should execute the ten prisoners whose lives
were security for my re-appearance. But your relative
told me to return, and, if possible, to prevent your ex¬
ecution ; and that the ten negroes should not be executed
until Biassou should announce the fact by displaying a
black flag on <Jne of the highest peaks of the mountains.
478
TIANS OF ICELAND.
Then I retm-ned to do my best. Kask led me to where
you were; thanks be to Heaven, I arrived in time ! You
will live, and so shall I."
He extended his hand to me, adding, "Brother, are
you satisfied ? "
I again clasped him to my breast; I entreated him
not to leave me again, but to remain with the white
troops, and I promised him to exert all my influence to
procure him a commission in the colonial army.
But he interrupted me with an angry air. " Brother,"
asked he, " do I propose to you to join my army ? "
I kept silence, for I felt that I had been guilty of a
folly; then he added in a tone of affected gaiety,—
" Come, let us hurry to the camp to reassure your
wife."
This proposal was what I most ardently desired; we
started at once. The negro knew the way, and took the
lead ; Rask followed us.
Here D'Auverney stopped suddenly, and cast a gloomy
look around him; perspiration in large beads covered his
forehead; he concealed his face with his hands. Rask
looked at him with an air of uneasiness.
"Yes, you may well look at me like that," murmured
he.
An instant afterwards he rose from his seat in a state
of violent agitation, and followed by the sergeant and
the dog, rushed hurriedly from the tent.
CHAPTER LIV.
" I WILL lay a bet," said Henri, " that we are nearing
the end of the drama; and I should really feel sorry if
anything happened to Bug-Jargal, for he was truly a
famous fellow."
. Paschal removed from his lips the mouth of his
wicker-covered flask, and said, " I would give twelve
dozen of port to have seen the cocoa-nut cup that he
emptied at a draught."
Alfred, who was gently hununing the air of a love-
BUG-.TAliGAL.
479
song, interrupted himself by asking Henri to tie his
aguilettes; then he added : " The negro interests me
very much, but I liave not dared to ask D'Auverney if
he knew the air of ' Beautiful Padilla.'"
" What a villain that Biassou was!" continued Pas¬
chal ; " but for all that he knew the value of a French¬
man's word! There are, however, people more pitiless
than Biassou,—my creditors, for instance."
" But what do you think of D'Auverney's story ?"
asked Henri.
" Ma foi" answered Alfred, " I have not paid much
attention to it; but I certainly had expected something
more interesting from D'Auverney's lips; and then I
want to know the air to which Bug-Jargal sang his songs.
In fact, I must admit that the story has bored me a
a little."
"You are right," returned Paschal, the aide-de-camp.
" Had I not had my pipe and my bottle, I should have
passed but a dreary evening. Besides, there were a lot
of absurdities in it: how can we believe, for instance,
that that little thief of a sorcerer (I forget his name)
would have drowned himself for the sake of destroying
his enemy !"
Henri interrupted him with a smile. "You cannot
understand any one taking to water, can you. Captain
Paschal ? But what struck me more than anything was,
that every time D'Auverney mentioned the name of Bug-
Jargal, his lame dog lifted up his head."
The sound of the sentry carrying arms warned them
of D'Auverney's return. All remained silent. He walked
up and down the tent for a few moments with folded
arms, without a word.
Old Sergeant Thaddeus, who had returned with his
captain, bent over Rask and furtively caressed him, hop¬
ing by that means to conceal his countenance, which was
full of anxiety, from the eyes of his officer. At length,
after making a strong efi'ort, D'Auverney continued his
narrative.
UANS OF ICELAND.
CHAPTER LV.
Rask followed us. The highest rock in the valley
was not yet lighted by the rays of the sun; a glimmer of
light touched it for an instant, and then passed away.
The negro trembled, and grasped my hand firmly.
," Listen," said he.
A dull sound like the discharge of a piece of artillery
was heard, and was repeated by the echoes of the valleys.
" It is the signal," said the negro in a gloomy voice.
"It was a cannon shot, was it not ? "
I nodded in sign of the affirmative.
In two bomids he sprang to the top of a lofty rock; I
followed him. He crossed his arms and smiled sadly.
" Do you see that ? " asked he.
I looked in the direction to which he pointed; and on
the lofty peak to which he had drawn my attention during
our last interview with Marie, and which was now
glowing in the rays of the setting sun, I saw a huge black
flag, its folds flapping idly in the breeze.
[At this point of his recital D'Auverney again
pansed.]
I learned afterwards that Biassou, in a hurry to leave
his ground, had ordered the flag to he hoisted without
waiting for the return of the negroes who had been de¬
spatched to assist at my execution.
Bug-Jargal was still in the same position, his arms
folded, and his eyes eagerly fixed upon the fatal signal.
Suddenly he started, and seemed about to descend from
his post of observation. " Great heavens! my unfortu¬
nate comrades ! " cried he. " Did you hear the gun ? "
I made no reply.
"It was the signal, my brother. They are leading
them now to the place of execution."
His head fell upon his breast; after a short pause, he
said: " Go, brother, and rejoin your wife; Rask will guide
you to her; " and he whistled an African air, which Rask
appeared to recognize, for he wagged his tail, and seemed
ready to set out.
BUG-JARGAL.
481
Bug-Jar^al grasped my hand, and strove to smile but
his features were contracted, and his look was ghastly.
" Farewell forever! " cried he, and dashed into the thicket
by which we were surrounded.
I remained motionless; the little that I understood of
the position made me fear the worst.
Rask, on seeing his master disappear, advanced to the
edge of the rock, and raising his head uttered a plaintive
howl. Then he turned to me ; his tail was between his
legs and his eyes were moist. He looked at me with an
air of inquietude, and turned to the spot from which his
master had disappeared, and barked several times. I un¬
derstood him, and shared his fears. Suddenly he dashed
oft in pursuit of his master, and I should soon have lost
sight of him had he not every now and then halted to
give me time to come up to him. In this manner we
passed through many a valley and leafy glade; we
climbed hills and crossed streams. At last—
D'Auverney's voice failed him, an expression of despair
covered his face, and he could not find words to continue
his narrative. « Continue it, Thaddeus," said he, " for I
can go on no further."
The old sergeant was not less distressed than his cap¬
tain, but he made an effort to obey him.
"With your permission, gentlemen," said he, "and
since it is your wsh. Captain, I must tell you, gentlemen,
that Bug-Jargal (otherwise called Pierrot) was a tall
negro, very strong, very gentle, and the bravest man in
the world,—except you. Captain, if you please. But I
was terribly prejudiced against him,—for which I will
never pardon myself, though you. Captain, have forgiven
me,—so much so, that when we heard that your execution
had been fixed for the evening of the second day I flew
into a furious rage with the poor fellow, and felt a fiendish
pleasure in informing him that his death would pay for
yours, or that if he escaped ten of his men would be shot
by way of reprisal. He said nothing upon hearing this,
but an hour afterwards he made his escape through a
great hole which he pierced in the wall of his prison."
[DAuverncy made a movement of impatience and
Thaddeus continued.
31
482
HANS OF ICELAND.
" AVell, Avhen we saw the great black flag hoisted on
the mountain, and as the negro had not returned,—a fact
Avhich surprised none of us,—our oflicers ordered the
signal gun to be fired, and I was directed to conduct the
ten negroes to the place of execution, which was a spot we
call the Devil's Mouth, about—but it does not matter how
far it was from the camp. Well, as you can imagine, we
did not take them there to set them at liberty. I had
them bound, as is the custom, and paraded my firing
party, when who should burst upon us but the tall negro.
He was out of breath with the speed that he had made.
"' Good evening, Thaddeus,' said he. ' I am in time.'
" No, gentlemen, he did not utter another word, but
hastened to unbind his comrades. I stood there in
stupefaction. Then (with youp permission. Captain) there
was a good deal of generous argument between the other
negroes and himself, which might have lasted longer, but
—well, it is no good hiding the fact, it was I that stopped
it. At any rate he took their place. Then the great dog
came, poor Rask! He leaped at my throat: he ought to
have held me longer, hut Pierrot made a sign to him, and
the poor brute released me; hut he could not be prevent¬
ed from taking his place at his master's feet. Then, be¬
lieving that you were dead. Captain—well, I was in a
fine rage. I gave the word; Bug-Jargal fell, and a bul¬
let broke the dog's foot.
" Since that time, gentlemen," continued the sergeant,
sadly, " Rask has been lame. Then I heard groans in
the adjacent wood ; I reached it, and found you: a stray
bullet had hit you as you were running forward to save
the tall negro. Yes, Captain, you were wounded, but
Bug-Jargal was dead!
" We carried you back to the camp ; you were not dan¬
gerously wounded, and the doctors soon cured you; but
I believe Madame Marie's nursing had a good deal to do
with it."
The sergeant stopped in his story, and D'Auverney, in
a solemn voice, added: " Bug-Jargal was dead! "
Thaddeus bowed his head. "Yes," said he, "he spared
my life, and I—I killed him."
BUG-JABGAL.
483
EPILOGUE.
The reader, in general, is seldom satisfied with the
ronclusion of a narrative unless it enters into every detail
ill winding up the story. For this reason the minutest
l esearches have been made into the facts having reference
to the concluding details of the last scenes of Leopold
d'Auverney's life, as well as those of his sergeant and the
dog Rask.
The reader is already aware that the captain's feelings
of melancholy arose partly from the death of Bug-Jaigal,
otherwise called Pierrot; but he is not acquainted with
the fact that those feelings were terribly increased by
the loss of his beloved Marie,—who, after having been
preserved from the horrors that attended the taking of
Fort Galifet, perished in the burning of Cap, which took
place some weeks later.
The fate of Leopold d'Auverney may be briefiy reca¬
pitulated. A great victory had been won by the Republi¬
can forces against one of those united European armies
whicli so often struggled vainly against our soldiers; and
the General of Division, who was in command of the entire
force, was seated in his tent drawing up, from the reports
of his staff, the bulletin which was to be sent to the
National Convention concerning the victory of the day
before. As he was thus occupied, an aide-de-camp an¬
nounced to him the arrival of a Representative of the
People, who demanded an audience. The general loathed
these ambassadors of the guillotine, who were sent by the
party of the Mountain to humiliate the military officers,
and too often to demand the heads of the most gallant of
the men who had fought bravely for the Republic,—look¬
ing upon them as chartered informers charged with the
hateful mission of spying upon glory. But it would have
been dangero«s for him to refuse to admit him, especially
after such a victory as had resulted to the arms of the
484
UAyS OF ICELAND.
Republic. The gory idol which France had then set up
almost invariably demanded victims of the highest lin¬
eage ; and the executioners of the Place de la Revolution
were delighted if they could at the same time cause a
head and a coronet to fall,—were it one of thorns, like
that of Louis XVI.; of flowers, like those of the girls of
Verdun; or of laurels like those of Custine or of Andre
Chenier. The general, therefore, gave immediate orders
that the Representative of the People should be intro¬
duced to his presence.
After a few clumsy congratulations regarding the recent
victory, the Representative of the People came up close
to the general, and muttered in a suppressed voice: " But
this is notall. Citizen General; it is not enough to destroy
the foreign enemy,—those nearer home must be also
crushed."
" What do you mean. Citizen Representative ? " asked
the astonished general.
" There is in your division," answered the emissary of
the Convention, in an unpleasant manner, "a captain
named Leopold d'Auverney, who is serving in the Thirty-
second Brigade ; do you know him. General ? "
" Know him! certainly I do," replied the general;
" only as you came in I was reading the report of the
adjutant-general which refers to him. The Thirty-second
Brigade had in him an excellent oflBcer, and I was about
to recommend him for promotion."
" What, Citizen General! " interposed the represen¬
tative harshly, " were you thinking of promoting him ? "
" Such was most certainly my intention, citizen."
" Victory has blinded you. General," cried the repre¬
sentative, imperiously; «take care what you say or do.
If you cherish serpents who are the enemies of the
people, take care that the people do not crush you and
the serpents at the same moment. This Leopold d'Au¬
verney is an aristocrat, a hater of the revolution, a
royalist, a Girondin ! Public justice demands his head,
and he must be given up to me on the spot."
" I cannot do so," replied the general, coldly.
" How I you cannot do so ? " shouted the representa¬
tive, whose rage was redoubled at this opposition. " Are
yon igncav^. General, of the extent of my power ? I, in
BUG-JARQAL.
485
the name of the Republic, command you, and you have
no option but to obey. Listen to me: in consideration
of your recent success, I will read you the report which
has been handed in regarding this D'Auverney, and
which I shall send with him to the Public Prosecutor:
' Leopold Auverney (formerly known as D' Auverney),
captain in the Thirty- second Brigade, is convicted of
having, at a meeting of conspirators, narrated an anti-
revolutionary tale, conducing to the ridicule of the true
principles of Equality and Liberty, and exalting the
worn-out superstitions known under the names of roy¬
alty and religion; convicted, secondly, of having used
expressions deservedly forbidden by all good republi¬
cans, to describe certain recent events, notably those refer¬
ring to the negroes of St. Domingo; convicted, thirdly,
of having made use of the expression Monsieur instead
of Citizen during the whole of his narrative; and, by the
said narrative, of having endeavored to bring into con¬
tempt the Republic one and indivisible, and also to
propagate the infamous doctrines of the Girondins.'
Death is the punishment for these crimes, and I demand
his body. Do you hesitate, General, to hand this traitor
over to me, to meet the well-merited punishment of his
crimes ? "
" Citizen," answered the general, with dignity, " this
enemy of his country has given his life for her. As a
contrast to your report, listen to an extract from mine :
' Leopold d'Auverney, captain in the Thirty-second Bri¬
gade, has contributed largely to the success that our
arms have obtained. A formidable earthwork had been
erected by the allies; it was the key to their position,
and it was absolutely necessary to carry it at the point
of the bayonet. It was an. almost impregnable position,
and the death of the stormers who led the attack was
almost inevitable. Captain d'Auverney volunteered to
lead the forlorn hope; he carried the earthwork, but
was shot down at the moment of victory. Sergeant
Thaddeus of the Thirty-second, and a large dog were
found dead within a few paces of him.' It was my in¬
tention to propose that the National Convention should
pass a vot« tliat Captain Leopold d'Auverney had
jperitpd the tbau^s of his country. You see. Citizen
486
HANS OF ICELAND.
Representative," continued the general, calmly, "that
our duties differ slightly. "We both send a report to the
Convention. The same name appears in each list: you
denounce hfm as a traitor, I hold him up to posterity
as a hero; you devote him to ignominy, I to glory ; you
would erect a scaffold for him, while I propose a statue
in his honor. He is fortunate in having, by death in
action, escaped the infamy you proposed for him. He
whose death you desired is dead ; he has not waited for
you."
Furious at seeing his conspiracy disappear with the
conspirator, the Representative muttered, " Dead, is he ?
More's the pity ! "
The general caught his words, and in indignant tones
exclaimed: " There is still something left for you. Citi¬
zen Representative. Go seek for the body of Captain
d'Auverney among the ruins of the redoubt. Who can
tell if the bullets of the enemy may not have spared his
head for his country's guillotine ? "
THE END.
3 5556 007 887 730
*4 'Wit'
kmm.
Oak Grove Library Center