Read Ebook: The Lonely House by Streckfuss Adolf Weber Ditzler Charlotte Illustrator Wister A L Annis Lee Translator

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Ebook has 654 lines and 56357 words, and 14 pages

The Burgomaster's efforts to restore peace were unavailing; the District Judge renewed the quarrel by a malicious remark about old army officers who no longer knew what nation they belonged to. The Captain retorted angrily, more bitter words ensued, the other gentlemen presently took part in the dispute, which principally concerned the character of young Franz Schorn. The Burgomaster alone was silent; of the rest only the County Clerk, Herr Einern, sided with the Captain. While the others all agreed with the District Judge's abuse of Franz Schorn as a rough, arrogant fellow, a recreant Slav, who was detested and despised all through the countryside, and were unanimous in declaring that "old Pollenz" was perfectly right in forbidding Franz to hang around the Lonely House watching for pretty Anna, that it was the old man's patriotic duty to shield his charming daughter from Schorn's advances, the Clerk and the Captain warmly espoused his cause. The Clerk, in fact, did not mince matters, but frankly characterized as exaggerated and unjust his chief's tirade against Franz. The boldness that he showed in doing this without in the least overstepping the bounds of civility impressed me very favourably.

I was soon tired, however, of listening to a discussion which became more and more heated as time went on, concerning people of whom I had no knowledge, and therefore when I had finished my supper--an excellent one, by the way--and had emptied my glass of wine, I rose to retire, pleading fatigue from my journey.

The gentlemen probably suspected that their quarrel had driven me away, and they fell silent in some confusion while the Burgomaster said kindly: "You have chanced upon an unfortunate evening, Herr Professor. Do not suppose that such a disturbance is frequent in our little circle, and I pray you pardon any harsh words you may have heard with regard to Germans. I can assure you that we have no quarrel with any Germans, save those who should be Slavs. That we have no dislike for Germans or Germany you may see for yourself, since you hear us all speak your language among ourselves, and pray do not let this evening's experience prevent you from joining our circle in future. You will always be an honoured and welcome guest."

I pressed the good man's hand cordially and followed Mizka, who stood with lighted candle ready to show me to my room.

I thought it not indiscreet to gossip a little with pretty Mizka while she was arranging my bed, and to learn from her something regarding the gentlemen whose acquaintance I had made below, and with whom I should probably have daily intercourse during some weeks to come. I could not have sought information from a better source.

Mizka had been born in Luttach; she knew all about every inhabitant of the town, and she felt highly honored by "the gentleman's" desire to converse with her. In her gratitude she detailed all that I wished to know. I learned that the Burgomaster, Herr Pollenz, was the owner of the "Golden Grapevine," which Mizka's aunt, Frau Franzka, or rather, her husband, rented from him; he was now a guest in his own house, occupying with his brother, a pensioned captain, the entire second story.

Mizka was eloquent in praise of the two brothers, whom she described as the best and truest of men. No one could be as thoroughly kind as the Burgomaster; he was, in fact, too kind, for he was sometimes really pinched for money himself, because he could not refuse to give or to lend to the poor, and there were evil-disposed people who abused his benevolence. He was very wise, too, and learned. Whoever in all Luttach stood in need of good counsel could be sure of finding it from the Burgomaster. He and the Captain were much respected, not only in Luttach, but throughout the countryside.

Mizka gave unstinted praise also to the County Clerk, Herr von Einern, for whom every one in Luttach had a good word, regretting that he was not District Judge and Foligno the Clerk; he was too young for a Judge as yet, but he was sure of promotion, for he belonged to a very old Luttach family--his father was a general--although he never prided himself upon his position, but was kind and courteous to the very poorest, whereas the Judge was often rude and harsh to poor people in court.

Mizka had nothing pleasant to say of the Judge. He was out-and-out Italian although his grandfather had settled in Luttach and he himself could not speak Italian fluently; but an Italian was always an Italian; he never could be a true Slav. Yet he was not temperate, like most Italians; he drank too much, and was not content with the good Luttach wine, but always wanted some special kind for himself. That was why he was always needing money. Eighteen hundred gulden was a good salary; many a Judge could live comfortably upon it with a wife and children, whereas he, though a bachelor, was always in debt. He already owed Frau Franzka nearly five hundred gulden, and Mizka could not understand why her aunt would go on lending to him. He had the best two rooms in the upper story--Number Twelve, just above the Herr Professor's Number Two, and Number Thirteen--but he had paid nothing for them for a year, and yet he behaved as if he was the greatest guest in the house; nothing was good enough for him. He often drove to G?rz, where he consorted with the officers, and 'twas said that he had sometimes lost at play more than a hundred gulden in one evening. He had long since squandered all the property he inherited from his father; he had a house in Luttach, but not a stone of it really belonged to him; he had mortgaged it all to the wealthy old Pollenz, the Burgomaster's cousin, and whoever got into the clutches of that old man never got free until he had lost his last penny; for old Pollenz, who lived in the last house on the mountainside--it was called "the Lonely House"--was a hardhearted usurer.

Old Pollenz now owned forests, vineyards, meadows, and farmlands, for which he exacted the highest rents; all his money had been made by usury, and woe to the peasant to whom he had lent any--he was sure to be obliged to sell all that he possessed to satisfy his creditor's demands. The man was a hateful old miser; in spite of his wealth he hardly dared to eat, and never entered an inn to drink a glass of good wine. He lived with his daughter, pretty Anna, and an old servant maid, apart from everybody, in the Lonely House; its windows barred with iron, because he was constantly in dread of robbers, although there had never been a robbery or burglary in all the countryside within the memory of man. But the old fellow was so afraid of thieves that he would let no one enter the house whom he did not know well, and he always went armed with a couple of pistols and a big knife.

He was most afraid of Franz Schorn, and had often said of him: "If he should meet me alone, he'd be sure to do me a mischief, but I'll be even with him. I'll shoot him like a mad dog sooner than let him attack me." The old man's dread in this case was not quite without cause, for Franz was a rough fellow, who might well assault a mortal enemy, and the two had been mortal enemies ever since two years before, when old Pollenz drove Franz from his door with curses.

The old man was a bitter foe of the Germans, and had fallen into a terrible rage when some one had told him that Franz was sneaking around his house courting pretty Anna. And so, when one day Franz did not sneak around the house, but boldly entered it and asked for pretty Anna for his wife, the old man became almost insane with fury; he drove the young fellow out of doors with blows and curses, although Anna wept and entreated, saying that she would rather die than give up her Franz.

Just at that time the Judge, who certainly had need of a rich wife, asked old Pollenz to take him for his son-in-law. The old miser said "yes," thinking to make an end of pretty Anna's love affair with Franz. He told his daughter that she must marry the Judge, but Anna refused. To all her father's threats she answered, "I'd rather die! You may drag me to the altar, but you cannot compel me to utter a 'yes'!" And so the Judge got the mitten in spite of the father's consent. Ever since then he had been a deadly enemy to Franz Schorn; every child knew how he had got the mitten in the Lonely House; he had often been teased about it, and the malicious Italian would never forgive Franz Schorn because of it.

Such, in brief, was the sum of Mizka's information; she would gladly have talked on, but I was afraid she might be wanted in the room below, so I dismissed her with a "Goodnight."

I admit that she had interested me much with her gossip. I now understood many words and phrases that had escaped the gentlemen below in the heat of their quarrel, and I perfectly comprehended the bitterness of the Judge's hostility to Franz Schorn. A love story in a Slav village! But what did it all matter to me? What possible interest could an old naturalist, sixty years of age, take in the love affairs of a young fellow whom he did not know, and the disappointment and lack of money of a very disagreeable District Judge? There was absolutely no reason why I should mix myself up with such matters, or even bestow a thought upon them. That was not why I was in Luttach, but for the purpose of collecting plants, butterflies, and beetles, which I resolved to begin to do the next morning, oblivious of all love affairs, German or Slav.

I undressed, mounted a chair and made a bold leap which landed me in the midst of the maize straw with which the bed had been stuffed. It was not a luxurious couch, but fatigue sleeps well even upon a poor one. I had scarcely extinguished the candle on the table beside my bed when I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

The sun shining brightly into my room awoke me about five o'clock. I got up, dressed myself quickly, and went down to the kitchen, where Mizka had already kindled a bright fire on the hearth. She assured me that my coffee would be ready in a quarter of an hour and that she would bring it out to me in the garden. There I met the Captain, who, enjoying his morning pipe, was walking to and fro between the flower beds. Now and then he would stop before an opening rose, regarding it with eyes really full of affection. He greeted me cordially.

"You are an early riser, Herr Professor," he said with a smile. "I thought all those who lived in large cities never rose before eight o'clock, but I am glad that you are an exception, for the mornings and evenings with us are the most delightful time of the day. At noon the sun is far too hot and glowing to enable us to enjoy the beauty that lies about us here. Only look at these rosebuds, how beautiful they are, each one with a diamond dewdrop in its breast! Are they not enchantingly lovely?"

He chattered on, pointing out to me every blossom that delighted him, and taking positive joy in all. He conducted me through the garden, which was not very large, and at the end of it he unlatched a gate that was not locked.

"Now I must show you the only thing perhaps that we have worth showing in Luttach. Pray follow me," and he walked before me through the open garden gate. After a few steps we reached the banks of a broad, brawling brook, which seemed in all its breadth and force to come directly from out the rocky wall before us. The rock must certainly have been thoroughly undermined. From countless smaller and larger openings the crystal-clear water streamed with such power that the numerous jets instantly formed a broad deep brook.

"This is the Luttach. On the north side of Nanos the raging Voyna rushes through a savage rocky vale, suddenly vanishing without a trace; the mountain engulfs it. They say that the Voyna in the interior of Nanos forms a deep unfathomable lake and from this lake in the interior of the mountain it flows on, breaking through the rocks, to come to light again here as the Luttach brook. This may be possible, for Nanos, like the whole Karst range, is absolutely riddled with caves. The famous Adelsberg Grotto would not be the unparalleled wonder that it is, if our population were not too indolent to explore the hollow openings and grottoes in our side of the mountain. Why, in the immediate neighbourhood of Luttach there are two caves, the depth of which is known to none, for no one has ever taken the trouble to explore them, except for a few yards."

"What absolutely unconscionable neglect!" I rejoined. "If you could succeed in finding here a spring, a mineral spring as wonderful with its grottoes as that of Adelsberg, think of how it would attract travellers and what a goal it would be for all tourists."

The Captain shrugged his shoulders. "I really do not know whether our Luttach population would desire this. They certainly feel no wish for it at present. Besides, it is questionable if our grottoes are really very large in extent, and it is probable that their exploration would be attended with some difficulty and perhaps indeed danger. I have never thought of making an attempt to explore one or the other of these, but, if you desire to do so, Herr Professor, I shall be very glad to accompany you."

I joyfully accepted the Captain's offer. Under all circumstances the exploration of a cave, hitherto unknown, possesses for me extraordinary interest; in the depths of these caves in the Karst range are found rare cave beetles, the species is confined entirely to such places. It might well be possible to discover in the Luttach grotto a species hitherto unknown. Such a prospect made me forget the threatened difficulty and danger.

The Captain smiled when he heard the reason for my interest. That a human being should be ready to subject himself to inconvenience and even to danger that he might discover a new beetle appeared to him extremely ridiculous, but he was too polite to make this evident. He promised to look about for some strong, courageous men, who, armed with torches, ladders, and ropes, should accompany us into the caves.

"I hope," he said, "that you will reap a rich harvest of rare cave beetles, but even if you do not succeed you will be abundantly repaid by the beetles and butterflies which you will find on the slopes of Nanos. A naturalist from Vienna, who was here about ten years ago and spent six weeks in Luttach, was thoroughly enraptured by the richness of his discoveries. I was then at home on leave and frequently talked with him. His best and rarest caterpillars he found near the Chapel of St. Nikolas, I believe, upon the leaves of beeches and oaks."

I asked the Captain the way thither. "You cannot miss it," he answered; "there are two paths, each very easy to find. The first, which is perhaps fifteen minutes the nearer, is steep in its beginning, and even dangerous for unaccustomed mountain climbers. Part of it you can see from here. It begins there at that elder bush and leads directly up the rocks by steps partly natural and partly artificial, most of them, however, giving space only for one foot. A false step, a slip, might be disastrous, therefore I can hardly advise you to take this nearer path over the rocks. It is not long; in five minutes you would reach a very pleasant, gently ascending footpath, which in fifteen minutes more would lead you past the Lonely House, to reach in another quarter of an hour the Chapel of St. Nikolas in a direct line. The second path, just as easy to find, is very charming, beginning at the last house of Luttach and leading to the left from the road to Adelsberg, winding through meadows and through oak forests, and ascending gently, past the scattered houses of the village of Oberberg. After perhaps half an hour you reach a large crucifix at a fork of the pathway. The path to the left leads to the Lonely House, that to the right directly to the Chapel of St. Nikolas without going near the Lonely House; you cannot miss it. I advise you to take the longer path. The shorter is seldom used even by the inhabitants of Luttach, because it is certainly dangerous in descending. The District Judge alone, who is very fond of flowers, often climbs up the steep rocks, in search of rare, beautiful plants."

The advice was well meant, and I determined to follow it, although the mention of the rare and beautiful plants allured me. Still, I do not willingly expose myself to danger. We returned to the garden, where our coffee awaited us in a pretty arbour covered with wild grapevine.

I hurried my breakfast, for I was burning with impatience to find near St. Nikolas my entomological treasures. Scarcely a quarter of an hour had passed before I started on my way thither, supplied with a cane and a large umbrella, my tin box upon my back, my pockets filled with glasses for beetles and boxes for caterpillars and butterflies.

The Captain had described the path to me so exactly that I really could not miss it. He had called it charming, but it was more than that. It was wondrously beautiful. It was a joy to ascend the mountain quietly, while fresh beauties of the landscape revealed themselves at every step. At my feet lay the pretty little town of Luttach, framed in emerald green meadows, bounded by the steep rocky wall against which it leaned. On the summit of this bare rock, majestically enthroned, were the remains of a ruined old castle, whose knightly possessor had in former times probably ruled over the rich valley of the Luttach.

Wherever the eye turned, whether downward to the houses and cottages in the valley, surrounded with blooming orchards, or to the distant view where the mighty mountain range bounded the horizon, its rocky peaks glowing in the sunlight--everywhere, it filled me with rapture.

And then, the fresh, delicious morning! It was a joy indeed to wander thus in the mountains.

The crucifix on the path was very quickly reached. I turned to the right, and soon the little Church of St. Nikolas lay before me.

Hitherto I had sturdily strode on without being detained by my desire to collect. But now, when the goal of my wanderings was reached, I began to search. Once more I turned on the steps of the church to feast upon the wonderful view above the tops of the oaks growing in the valley below, and then I began my work. I could have scarcely found a piece of ground more adapted for my purpose than this around St. Nikolas. The church lay in the midst of a forest of tall oaks; around them there was a rich undergrowth, and where their trunks were more rare, there spread a carpet of charming wildflowers, above which countless butterflies fluttered from one blossom to another. The wood above the chapel consisted partly of ancient trees and shrubbery, climbing the gentle slope of Nanos until it reached the bald rock which showed no trace of vegetation.

Only a naturalist can form an idea of my joyful emotion, my delight, and the passion for collecting which this first specimen aroused in me. I forgot everything: the beauty of the landscape, to which I now paid no attention; the difficulty of finding my way in the forest without a guide, the danger of treading upon one of the poisonous reptiles native to the Karst range--in short, I wandered about animated only by the desire to procure more specimens of this rare and beautiful insect, and the more I found, the more the desire increased. I never noticed that hours had passed, that the refreshing morning had given place to an intensely hot noon, and that the exertion of climbing and searching had caused the perspiration to stream from my forehead. But at last my sixty years asserted their right. I began to be tired and to feel very thirsty, as the sound of church bells ascended from the valley. I looked at my watch; twelve o'clock! More than six hours had I passed in unbroken labour, and surely a man of sixty had the right to be a little tired and to think of home, especially since all my boxes were well filled.

I found myself in a dense forest at a considerable height above the little Church of St. Nikolas, but whether to the right or to the left of it I could not say, since I had walked along searching here and there, without a thought of the direction in which I was going. I might have informed myself as to this if I could have obtained a view of the valley, but the tall undergrowth made this impossible. There was nothing for it but to walk in the direction of Luttach, keeping to the right, down the mountain, and endeavouring to avoid any precipices, hoping thus to find the path in a roundabout way.

I strode on sturdily, keeping to the right down the mountain, and by good fortune encountered no precipice. After a little more than a quarter of an hour, I struck a footpath which wound about gently in the direction of Luttach. I pursued it, and I had proceeded but a few steps when in a little turn of the way I perceived a solitary pedestrian coming towards me. I immediately recognized the young man about whom there had been so lively a discussion in the Golden Grapevine, Franz Schorn. He was ascending the mountain path slowly, with eyes fixed gloomily on the ground. He did not see me until, when I was scarcely thirty steps from him, he suddenly raised his head as if listening. Then he started violently upon perceiving me. For a moment he seemed undetermined as to what he should do. He paused, regarded me darkly, then turned away, without a greeting, and in a moment more had vanished in the thick undergrowth of the forest.

A very strange fellow! He need not have considered himself so strictly bound by his promise not to press his friendship upon me. He need not have grudged me a kindly greeting and a word or two. I should have liked to ask him about the nearest cottage where I could perhaps get a drink of water, but there was no help for it; I could not run after him and must find my way for myself.

Uncertain whether or not to enter, I stood before the open door; it looked into a spacious hall running through the entire house, ending in another door which probably led into the courtyard. That I confronted the Lonely House was made certain by the huge iron bolts with which the door towards the courtyard was secured. A steep staircase leading to the upper story led from one side of the hall. Opposite the staircase was a door; and two other doors, one to the right, one to the left of the entrance, led into the inner rooms of the house; they were all closed.

I entered and knocked modestly at the door on my left. No reply; no "Come in." I listened; there was not a sound to be heard; an uncanny stillness reigned throughout the house. I knocked again, more loudly, and then, after a pause, more loudly still for the third time. The sound of my knocking was so loud that it surely must have been heard within, but it met with no response. I waited in vain.

A strange and uncomfortable sensation overcame me. I dreaded the Lonely House, where everything seemed dead. What folly! An old man should have more sense. I was ashamed of this strange and disagreeable sensation and turned towards the door on the right of the entrance. Perhaps my knock here might have a better result. No longer as modestly as before, I knocked loudly, and the door, which happened to be only ajar, opened slowly of itself. I cast one look into a spacious room, and staggered back, overcome by intense horror.

There, almost in the centre of the apartment, a motionless figure lay upon the floor in a pool of blood, which had stained the white boards dark red. Such horror, such intense dread, seized me that my first thought was of flight as swift as my feet could carry me from this terrible sight; but the next moment I was ashamed of such cowardly fear. Perhaps the unfortunate man who lay there in his blood still lived. Perhaps I might help him. I overcame the paralyzing terror and entered the room.

All that I saw there only increased my horror. No mortal help could avail the unfortunate man whose stiffened corpse lay before me. He had either killed himself, or had been horribly murdered. His throat was cut, and from the gaping wound dark drops of blood were still trickling. The pale, bloodless, distorted countenance was that of a dead man.

Had there been a murder here! Had the old man's foreboding, always dwelling upon burglars and murderers, been fulfilled! Perhaps the murderer was still in the house. The horrible crime could not have been committed for long, for the blood had not yet congealed; some drops were still trickling from the wound.

Horror seized me afresh. I looked timidly about me. It seemed to me the murderer might be near. Hastily I drew from my breast pocket my loaded revolver; I was safe from any attack and could look about me with less agitation.

There was no doubt that a horrible crime had been committed here. There upon the floor, at some distance from the dead man, lay a bloody knife, near a large cabinet, the folding doors of which stood wide open. Several drawers had been drawn out and papers lay scattered upon the floor. The murderer had apparently been searching the cabinet for money or valuables, and had scattered about these papers.

Had he been startled by my knocking and escaped! If so, he must have passed through the door which led on the left to an adjoining room, for the windows here were barred.

I summoned all my courage to follow him, but there was no need, for the door leading outside was bolted and no one could have left the room by it. He must have escaped before I entered; he might be concealed somewhere near; but, again, he might have left the house, and, in his hasty flight, have forgotten to close the front door.

What should I do? Ought I not to search the place? Yet if he were not there, all search would be unavailing, and if I found him, it would be foolhardy to wander about these unfamiliar rooms merely to expose myself to an attack. The murderer might deal a blow from behind which would make me and my revolver useless.

Undoubtedly this was the sitting-room and bedchamber of the fair Anna, the daughter of the murdered man. Without delay I continued my search. A door opposite the bed was unlocked. Through it I entered the kitchen. Here also I found no one, and I returned to the hall.

The four rooms of the ground floor had now been searched without result. With a calmer mind I mounted the steep staircase to the second story. Here I found rooms similar to those below. They were all unlocked and appeared to be used partly for old rubbish. In one of them there was a bed, probably that of the old servant.

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