The Erckmann-Chatrian MEGAPACK ®. Emile Erckmann

cried the good man, springing from the ground with joy; “if you don’t think so, that means that you are sure.”

      And taking my arm, he drew me into the gallery. We had just reached it when the Baron of Zimmer-Bluderich and his groom appeared there also, marshalled by Sébalt with a lighted torch in his hand. They were on their way to their chambers, and those two figures, with their cloaks flung over their shoulders, their loose Hungarian boots up to the knees, the body closely girt with long dark-green laced and frogged tunics, and the bear-skin cap closely and warmly covering the head, were very picturesque objects by the flickering light of the pine-torch.

      “There,” whispered Sperver, “if I am not very much mistaken, those are our Fribourg friends; they have followed very close upon our heels.”

      “You are quite right: they are the men; I recognise the younger by his tall, slender figure, his aquiline nose, and his long, drooping moustache.”

      They disappeared through a side passage.

      Gideon took a torch from the wall, and guided me through quite a maze of corridors, aisles, narrow and wide passages, under high vaulted roofs and under low-built arches; who could remember? There seemed no end.

      “Here is the hall of the margraves,” said he; “here is the portrait-gallery, and this is the chapel, where no mass has been said since Louis the Bold became a Protestant.”

      All these particulars had very little interest for me.

      After reaching the end we had again to go down steps; at last we happily came to the end of our journey before a low massive door. Sperver took a huge key out of his pocket, and handing me the torch, said—

      “Mind the light—look out!”

      At the same time he pushed open the door, and the cold outside air rushed into the narrow passage. The torch flared and sent out a volley of sparks in all directions. I thought I saw a dark abyss before me, and recoiled with fear.

      “Ha, ha, ha!” cried the huntsman, opening his mouth from ear to ear, “you are surely not afraid, Fritz? Come on; don’t be frightened! We are upon the parapet between the castle and the old tower.”

      And my friend advanced to set me the example.

      The narrow granite-walled platform was deep in snow, swept in swirling banks by the angry winds. Any one who had seen our flaring torch from below would have asked, “What are they doing up there in the clouds? what can they want at this time of the night?”

      Perhaps, I thought within myself, the witch is looking up at us, and that idea gave me a fit of shuddering. I drew closer together the folds of my horseman’s cloak, and with my hand upon my hat, I set off after Sperver at a run; he was raising the light above his head to show me the road, and was moving forward rapidly.

      We rushed into the tower and then into Hugh Lupus’s chamber. A bright fire saluted us here with its cheerful rays; how delightful to be once more sheltered by thick walls!

      I had stopped while Sperver closed the door, and contemplating this ancient abode, I cried—

      “Thank God! we shall rest now!”

      “With a well-furnished table before us,” added Gideon. “Don’t stand there with your nose in the air, but rather consider what is before you—a leg of a kid, a couple of roast fowls, a pike fresh caught, with parsley sauce; cold meats and hot wines, that’s what I like. Kasper has attended to my orders like a real good fellow.”

      Gideon spoke the truth. The meats were cold and the wines were warm, for in front of the fire stood a row of small bottles under the gentle influence of the heat.

      At the sight of these good things my appetite rose in me wonderfully. But Sperver, who understood what is comfortable, stopped me.

      “Fritz,” said he, “don’t let us be in too great a hurry; we have plenty of time; the fowls won’t fly away. Your boots must hurt you. After eight hours on horseback it is pleasant to take off one’s boots, that’s my principle. Now sit down, put your boot between my knees; there goes one off, now the other, that’s the way; now put your feet into these slippers, take off your cloak and throw this lighter coat over your shoulders. Now we are ready.”

      And with his cheery summons I sat down with him to work, one on each side of the table, remembering the German proverb—“Thirst comes from the evil one, but good wine from the Powers above.”

      CHAPTER III

      We ate with the vigorous appetite which ten hours in the snows of the Black Forest would be sure to provoke.

      Sperver making indiscriminate attacks upon the kid, the fowls, and the fish, murmured with his mouth full—

      “The woods, the lakes and rivers, and the heathery hills are full of good things!”

      Then he leaned over the back of his chair, and laying his hand on the first bottle that came to hand, he added—

      “And we have hills green in spring, purple in autumn when the grapes ripen. Your health, Fritz!”

      “Yours, Gideon!”

      We were a wonder to behold. We reciprocally admired each other.

      The fire crackled, the forks rattled, teeth were in full activity, bottles gurgled, glasses jingled, while outside the wintry blast, the high moaning mountain winds, were mournfully chanting the dirge of the year, that strange wailing hymn with which they accompany the shock of the tempest and the swift rush of the grey clouds charged with snow and hail, while the pale moon lights up the grim and ghastly battle scene.

      But we were snug under cover, and our appetite was fading away into history. Sperver had filled the “wieder komm,” the “come again,” with old wine of Brumberg; the sparkling froth fringed its ample borders; he presented it to me, saying—

      “Drink the health of Yeri-Hans, lord of Nideck. Drink to the last drop, and show them that you mean it!”

      Which was done.

      Then he filled it again, and repeating with a voice that re-echoed among the old walls, “To the recovery of my noble master, the high and mighty lord of Nideck,” he drained it also.

      Then a feeling of satisfied repletion stole gently over us, and we felt pleased with everything.

      I fell back in my chair, with my face directed to the ceiling, and my arms hanging lazily down. I began dreamily to consider what sort of a place I had got into.

      It was a low vaulted ceiling cut out of the live rock, almost oven-shaped, and hardly twelve feet high at the highest point. At the farther end I saw a sort of deep recess where lay my bed on the ground, and consisting, as I thought I could see, of a huge bear-skin above, and I could not tell what below, and within this yet another smaller niche with a figure of the Virgin Mary carved out of the same granite, and crowned with a bunch of withered grass.

      “You are looking over your room,” said Spencer. “Parbleu! it is none of the biggest or grandest, not quite like the rooms in the castle. We are now in Hugh Lupus’s tower, a place as old as the mountain itself, going as far back as the days of Charlemagne. In those days, as you see, people had not yet learned to build arches high, round, or pointed. They worked right into the rock.”

      “Well, for all that, you have put me in strange lodgings.”

      “Don’t be mistaken, Fritz; it is the place of honour. It is here that the count put all his most distinguished friends. Mind that: Hugh Lupus’s tower is the most honourable accommodation we have.”

      “And who was Hugh Lupus?”

      “Why, Hugh the Wolf, to be sure. He was the head of the family of Nideck, a rough-and-ready warrior, I can tell you. He came to settle up here with a score of horsemen and halberdiers of his following. They climbed up this rock—the highest rock amongst these mountains. You will see this to-morrow. They constructed this tower, and proclaimed, ‘Now we are the masters! Woe befall the miserable wretches who shall pass