The Erckmann-Chatrian MEGAPACK ®. Emile Erckmann

have it—of this last refuge of all the learning belonging to the princely race of Nideck.

      But a truly historical importance belonged to this chamber in the long series of family portraits, filling almost entirely one side of the ancient library. All were there, men and women; from Hugh the Wolf to Yeri-Hans, the present owner; from the first rough daub of barbarous times to the perfect work of the best modern painters.

      My attention was naturally drawn in that direction.

      Hugh I., a bald-headed figure, seemed to glare upon you like a wolf stealing upon you round the corner of a wood. His grey bloodshot eyes, his red beard, and his large hairy ears gave him a fearful and ferocious aspect.

      Next to him, like the lamb next to the wolf, was the portrait of a lady of youthful years, with gentle blue eyes, hands crossed on the breast over a book of devotions, and tresses of fair long silky hair encircling her sweet countenance with a glorious golden aureola. This picture struck me by its wonderful resemblance to Odile of Nideck.

      I have never seen anything more lovely and more charming than this old painting on wood, which was stiff enough indeed in its outline, but delightfully refreshing and ingenuous.

      I had examined this picture attentively for some minutes when another female portrait, hanging at its side, drew my attention reluctantly away. Here was a woman of the true Visigoth type, with a wide low forehead, yellowish eyes, prominent cheek-bones, red hair, and a nose hooked like an eagle’s beak.

      That woman must have been an excellent match for Hugh, thought I, and I began to consider the costume, which answered perfectly to the energy displayed in the head, for the right hand rested upon a sword, and an iron breastplate inclosed the figure.

      I should have some difficulty in expressing the thoughts which passed through my mind in the examination of these three portraits. My eye passed from the one to the other with singular curiosity.

      Sperver, standing at the library door, had aroused the attention of Knapwurst with a sharp whistle, which made that worthy send a glance in his direction, though it did not succeed in fetching him down from his elevation.

      “Is it me that you are whistling to like a dog?” said the dwarf.

      “I am, you vermin! It is an honour you don’t deserve.”

      “Just listen to me, Sperver,” replied the little man with sublime scorn; “you cannot spit so high as my shoe!” which he contemptuously held out.

      “Suppose I were to come up?”

      “If you come up a single step I’ll squash you flat with this volume!”

      Gideon laughed, and replied—

      “Don’t get angry, friend; I don’t mean to do you any harm; on the contrary, I greatly respect you for your learning; but what I want to know is what you are doing here so early in the morning, by lamplight? You look as if you had spent the night here.”

      “So I have; I have been reading all night.”

      “Are not the days long enough for you to read in?”

      “No; I am following out an important inquiry, and I don’t mean to sleep until I am satisfied.”

      “Indeed; and what may this very important question be?”

      “I have to ascertain under what circumstances Ludwig of Nideck discovered my ancestor, Otto the Dwarf, in the forests of Thuringia. You know, Sperver, that my ancestor Otto was only a cubit high—that is, a foot and a-half. He delighted the world with his wisdom, and made an honourable figure at the coronation of Duke Rudolphe. Count Ludwig had him inclosed in a cold roast peacock, served up in all his plumage. It was at that time one of the greatest delicacies, served up garnished all round with sucking pigs, gilded and silvered. During the banquet Otto kept spreading the peacock’s tail, and all the lords, courtiers, and ladies of high birth were astonished and delighted at this wonderful piece of mechanism. At last he came out, sword in hand, and shouted with a loud voice—“Long live Duke Rudolphe!” and the cry was repeated with acclamations by the whole table. Bernard Herzog makes mention of this event, but he has neglected to inform us where this dwarf came from, whether he was of lofty lineage or of base extraction, which latter, however, is very improbable, for the lower sort of people have not so much sense as that.”

      I was astounded at so much pride in so diminutive a being, yet my curiosity prevented me from showing too much of my feelings, for he alone could supply me with information upon the portraits that accompanied that of Hugh Lupus.

      “Monsieur Knapwurst,” I began very respectfully, “would you oblige me by enlightening me upon certain historic doubts?”

      “Speak, sir, without any constraint; on the subject of family history and chronicles I am entirely at your service. Other matters don’t interest me.”

      “I desire to learn some particulars respecting the two portraits on each side of the founder of this race.”

      “Aha!” cried Knapwurst with a glow of satisfaction lighting up his hideous features; “you mean Hedwige and Huldine, the two wives of Hugh Lupus.”

      And laying down his volume he descended from his ladder to speak more at his ease. His eyes glistened, and the delight of gratified vanity beamed from them as he displayed his vast erudition.

      When he had arrived at my side he bowed to me with ceremonious gravity. Sperver stood behind us, very well satisfied that I was admiring the dwarf of Nideck. In spite of the ill luck which, in his opinion, accompanied the little monster’s appearance, he respected and boasted of his superior knowledge.

      “Sir,” said Knapwurst, pointing with his yellow hand to the portraits, “Hugh of Nideck, the first of his illustrious race, married, in 832, Hedwige of Lutzelbourg, who brought to him in dowry the counties of Giromani and Haut Barr, the castles of Geroldseck, Teufelshorn, and others. Hugh Lupus had no issue by his first wife, who died young, in the year of our Lord 837. Then Hugh, having become lord and owner of the dowry, refused to give it up, and there were terrible battles between himself and his brothers-in-law. But his second wife, Huldine, whom you see there in a steel breastplate, aided him by her sage counsel. It is unknown whence or of what family she came, but for all that she saved Hugh’s life, who had been made prisoner by Frantz of Lutzelbourg. He was to have been hanged that very day, and a gibbet had already been set up on the ramparts, when Huldine, at the head of her husband’s vassals, whom she had armed and inspired with her own courage, bravely broke in, released Hugh, and hung Frantz in his place. Hugh had married his wife in 842, and had three children by her.”

      “So,” I resumed pensively, “the first of these wives was called Hedwige, and the descendants of Nideck are not related to her?”

      “Not at all.”

      “Are you quite sure?”

      “I can show you our genealogical tree; Hedwige had no children; Huldine, the second wife, had three.”

      “That is surprising to me.”

      “Why so?”

      “I thought I traced a resemblance.”

      “Oho! resemblance! Rubbish!” cried Knapwurst with a discordant laugh. “See—look at this wooden snuff-box; in it you see a portrait of my great-grandfather, Hanswurst. His nose is as long and as pointed as an extinguisher, and his jaws like nutcrackers. How does that affect his being the grandfather of me—of a man with finely-formed features and an agreeable mouth?”

      “Oh no!—of course not.”

      “Well, so it is with the Nidecks. They may some of them be like Hedwige, but for all that Huldine is the head of their ancestry. See the genealogical tree. Now, sir, are you satisfied?”

      Then we separated—Knapwurst and I—excellent friends.

      CHAPTER V

      “Nevertheless,” thought I, “there is the likeness. It is not chance. What is chance? There is no such thing; it is nonsense