Following Sperver, who climbed the staircase at a rapid pace, I was able to convince myself that the Castle of Nideck merited its reputation. It was a true stronghold, cut out of the rock; a relic of feudal times. Its high, deep archways reËchoed the sound of our steps, and the wind blowing through the loopholes caused the flame of the torches which were fastened at intervals along the wall to flare and flicker and send our giant shadows dancing along the corridor. Sperver knew every nook and cranny of this vast place; he turned many times to right and left, and I followed him, out of breath. At last he stopped on a large landing, and said to me:

"I will leave you with the people of the Castle for a moment, Gaston, while I go to inform the young Countess Odile of your arrival."

"Very good; do whatever you think suitable."

"You will find among the domestics, our majordomo, Tobias Offenloch, an old soldier of the regiment of Nideck. In former days he made a campaign in Germany under the Count."

"A good fellow, no doubt."

"You will also see his wife, a Frenchwoman, named Marie Lagoutte, who pretends to come of good family."

"And why not?"

"To be sure; only, between ourselves, she was nothing but a canteen-woman of Soubise's army. One day she brought us in Tobias Offenloch on her cart, minus one leg, and the poor fellow married her out of gratitude; you understand."

"Precisely; but open the door,—I am freezing!" I tried to push past him, but Sperver, obstinate, like all good Germans, was bound to enlighten me as to the people into whose presence I was about to enter, and seizing me by the frogs of my greatcoat, he continued:

"Then there is Sebalt Kraft, the master of the hounds, a sad sort of chap, but without an equal in sounding the horn; Karl Trumpf, the butler; Christian Becker, and all our people, if they haven't all gone to bed."

Thereupon Sperver pushed open the door, and I stood surprised on the threshold of a high, dark hall, the former guardroom of Nideck. I took in at a glance the three windows at the further end of the room, that dominated the precipice; on the right a sort of sideboard of old oak, browned by age, and on it a small cask, glasses, and bottles; on the left a Gothic chimney with a broad mantel-shelf empurpled by the blazing fire underneath, and ornamented in front and on the sides by carvings representing the various scenes of a boar hunt in the Middle Ages; and finally, in the centre of the room, a long table upon which stood a huge lamp, its light reflected by a dozen mugs with pewter lids.

All this I saw at a glance, but it was the people that interested me most. I recognized at once the majordomo with his wooden leg; a small, square, thick-set man, with a ruddy face, and prominent waistband, and a nose of marvellous brilliancy. He wore an enormous hemp-colored wig, with a long pigtail, a coat of apple-green plush with steel buttons as large as a five-franc piece, velvet breeches, blue silk stockings, and shoes with silver buckles. He was about to turn the spigot of the cask; an air of inexpressible satisfaction beamed upon his rubicund face, and his eyes, starting slightly from his head, glowed in profile like a pair of watch glasses. His wife, the worthy Marie Lagoutte, dressed in a gown of woolen stuff with a large flowered pattern, and her thin face the color of a withered apple, was playing cards with two servants, all three seated in straight-backed armchairs. Some small split pegs pinched the olfactory organ of the old woman and that of another player, while the third was winking slyly and seemed to enjoy seeing his opponents subjugated beneath this new variety of Caudine Forks.

"How many cards?" he was asking them.

"Two," replied the old woman.

"And you, Christian?"

"Two."

"Ah, ha! I've got you! Cut the king; now the ace. Ha, ha, ha! Another peg, mother; this will teach you once more to boast to us of your French games!"

"Master Christian, you don't treat the fair sex with due respect."

"When we play cards, we respect nobody."

"But you see, I have no room for any more."

"Pshaw! with a nose like yours, there's always room enough."

At this moment Sperver cried, "Here I am, comrades!"

"Ha, Gideon! back so soon?"

Marie Lagoutte made haste to shake off her numerous pegs with a motion of her head; the big majordomo emptied his glass, and everybody turned to look at us.

"Is the Count better?"

"Hum!" exclaimed the majordomo, drawing down his under-lip.

"Is his condition unchanged?"

"Just about," answered Marie Lagoutte, who never took her eyes off me. Sperver noticed this.

"Let me present to you my foster-son, Monsieur de la Roche, from TÜbingen," he said proudly. "Things will change now in the Castle, Master Tobie; now that Gaston has come, this cursed malady will be put to flight. If we could only have found him out sooner! However, better late than never."

Marie Lagoutte was still watching me, and the examination seemed to satisfy her, for, turning to the majordomo, "Come, come, Monsieur Offenloch! Stir yourself," she said; "offer monsieur the doctor a chair! You sit there with your mouth open like a great carp!"

With these words, the good woman sprang up as though moved by a spring, and came to help me off with my greatcoat.

"Permit me, monsieur."

"You are very good, my dear woman."

"Hand it to me, monsieur. Such weather! Ah, monsieur, what a country this is!"

"So our master is neither better nor worse," continued Sperver, shaking the snow from his cap. "We are here in time. Ho! Kasper! Kasper!"

A little man with a drooping shoulder, indicating a partial paralysis of his frame, and a face liberally sprinkled with freckles, came out of the chimney-corner.

"Here I am."

"Good! You must prepare for the doctor the chamber at the end of the long gallery,—Hugh's chamber. You know which one."

"Yes, Sperver. I will see to it at once."

"One moment! You will take the doctor's valise with you as you go. Knapwurst will give it to you. As to supper—"

"Never fear; I will take care of all that."

"Very good."

The little man went out, and Gideon, after throwing off his cape, left us to go and inform the young Countess of my arrival. I was somewhat embarrassed by the attentions of Marie Lagoutte.

"Come, up with you, Sebalt!" she said to the master of the hounds; "you ought to be sufficiently roasted by this time, sprawling there since morning. Sit down by the fire, Monsieur Doctor; your feet must be cold. Stretch out your legs; that's the way." Then, after a minute: "You have come just in time; our master had his second attack yesterday, and it was a terrible one; hey, Master Offenloch?"

"Terrible is just the word," replied the majordomo gravely.

"Nor is it to be wondered at, when a man takes no nourishment; and he eats nothing, monsieur. Fancy, it is two days since he has taken so much as a bowl of broth."

"Or a glass of wine," added Tobie, crossing his fat hands on his comfortable waistband.

I felt it incumbent upon me to express some surprise, so I shook my head; whereupon the majordomo came over and sat down on my right, saying, "Take my advice, doctor, and prescribe a bottle of Marcobrunner every day."

"And a chicken wing at each meal," added Marie Lagoutte; "the poor man is as thin as a ghost."

"We have some Marcobrunner sixty years old, and Johannisberg of the year '14; for Villars's fellows didn't drink it all, as Madame Offenloch would have it. You might prescribe now and then a glass of Johannisberg; there is nothing like it to set a man on his feet."

"There was a time," said the master of the hounds in a melancholy tone, "there was a time when our master went on the hunt twice a week, and he was well; now that he has stopped, he is ill."

"That is reasonable enough," observed Marie Lagoutte; "the fresh air gave him an appetite. The doctor should order him three hunts a week to make up for lost time."

"Two would do," replied the master of the hounds dismally; "two would do. The dogs must have some time to rest. They must be considered as well as we."

A few moments of silence succeeded, during which I could hear the wind rattling the windows and whistling boisterously through the loopholes and along the empty halls. Sebalt had crossed his legs, and with his elbow on his knee supporting his chin, he gazed into the fire with unspeakable gloominess. Marie Lagoutte refreshed herself with a pinch of snuff, and I was reflecting on that strange infirmity that leads us to press our advice on others, whether they desire it or not, when the majordomo rose, and leaning over the back of my chair, said:

"Will you have a glass of wine, doctor?"

"Thank you, but I never drink before visiting a patient."

"What, not even one small glass?"

"Not even a tiny glass."

He opened his eyes very wide, and looked with astonishment at his wife.

"Monsieur the doctor is right," she said; "I am of his opinion; I prefer to drink with my meals and take a glass of cognac afterwards. In my country, the women drink cognac; it is more genteel than kirschwasser."

Marie Lagoutte had hardly finished this explanation, when Sperver opened the door part way, and motioned me to follow him. I nodded a farewell to the worthy company, and as I stepped into the passage, I heard Tobie's wife saying to him, "He is a nice-looking young man. He would have made a fine soldier!" Sperver looked uneasy; he said nothing. I too was thoughtful.

A few steps beneath the shadowy arches of the Castle served completely to efface from my mind the grotesque figures of Tobie and Marie Lagoutte,—poor, inoffensive creatures, living like bats under the vulture's powerful wing. Soon Gideon threw open the door of a sumptuous apartment, hung with violet-colored velvet worked in gold. A bronze lamp, resting on a corner of the mantelpiece, and covered with a globe of ground crystal, vaguely lighted up the room. Thick rugs deadened the sound of our footsteps. It seemed like a refuge consecrated to silence and meditation.

On entering, Sperver lifted the heavy draperies that concealed a turret window. I saw him gaze earnestly into the plain beneath, and I divined his thoughts; he was looking to see if the witch were still there, crouching in the snow,—but he could see nothing, for the night was dark. As I moved forward into the room, I made out, by the pale rays of the lamp, a young woman of girlish figure seated in an armchair, her forehead resting in her hand, and her whole attitude one of patient but despairing sorrow. Her back was slightly turned towards us, and for this reason I could not at first see her face.

But at the rustle of our entrance she rose quickly, and exhibited to my gaze the most beautiful presence I had ever beheld. The tall, stately figure, the ideal formation of the features, the glory of golden hair that fell about the fair, white neck, the deep, lustrous eyes that bespoke a soul as pure and beautiful as the scenes among which it flourished,—everything about the young mistress of the Castle proclaimed her to be of that noble type which we meet with but once, if at all, in a lifetime. Just what my feelings were at sight of this beautiful young woman I know not, but certain it is that they were of a nature hitherto unknown to me, and I felt a strange sense of harmony and contentment within me as my glance continued to rest upon her.

After a moment the Countess advanced, and said simply, "You are welcome, monsieur;" then, motioning towards the alcove where the Count lay, she added, "There is my father."

I bowed low, and without reply,—such was my agitation,—I approached the couch of the sick man. Sperver, standing at the head of the bed, held the lamp in his raised hand, and the light, softened by the crystal globe, fell palely upon the face of the Count. Odile remained near me, waiting anxiously for my first word.

At the first glance I was struck with the strange physiognomy of the Lord of Nideck, and in contrast to the admiration that his daughter had inspired within me, my first thought was, "He is an old wolf!" And in truth, his head bristling with gray hair and swelling behind the ears; his long, pointed face and receding forehead; his narrow eyes and shaggy eyebrows that met in a point over the bridge of his nose, imperfectly shading the dull, cold eye beneath; his short, stiff beard, spreading unevenly over his bony jaws,—in short, everything about the man made me shudder, and brought involuntarily to my mind the oft-alleged affinities between man and the brute creation.

I mastered my repugnance, and raised the arm of the sick man. It was wasted and tremulous, the hand small and wiry. The pulse was rapid, fluttering and feverish, indicating intense nervous excitement. What was I to do? I considered. On one side stood the young Countess, anxiously awaiting an expression of my opinion; on the other, Sperver, trying to read my thoughts and following attentively my slightest movement. A painful restraint was thus imposed upon me.

However, I saw that no decided step could be undertaken as yet. I dropped the arm, and listened to the breathing. From time to time, something like a sob escaped the sick man's breast; then the respiration became normal again; then faster, and finally, labored. Some sort of nightmare oppressed him. But the cause!—this I must determine first, and I must confess it seemed hopeless enough. I turned round, sorely perplexed.

"Is there any hope, monsieur?" asked the young woman.

"Yesterday's crisis is drawing to a close, mademoiselle. We must seek to ward off the next attack."

"Is that a possible thing?"

I was about to reply in some scientific generalities, not daring to commit myself, when the distant sound of the Castle bell fell upon our ears.

"Strangers," said Sperver.

There was a moment of silence.

"Go and see who it is," said Odile, whose brow was shadowed with anxiety. "How can we be hospitable at such times? It is impossible."

Just then the door opened, and a yellow head and rosy cheeks appeared in the shadow, whispering, "The Baron Zimmer, accompanied by his servant, asks for shelter in the Castle. He has lost his way in the mountains."

"Very well, Gretchen," replied the Countess quietly; "go and tell Offenloch to attend to the wants of the strangers. Tell him to inform the Baron Zimmer that the Count is very ill, and that this alone prevents him from doing the honors of the house in person. Wake up our people, and see that he is properly waited on and that everything is suitably done."

It would be difficult to describe the well-born simplicity with which the young mistress of the Castle gave her orders, and I reflected that if an air of nobility seems inherent in some families, it is certainly because the discharge of hospitable and charitable duties tends to elevate the character and ennoble the soul.

All this passed through my mind while I was admiring the gentle glance, the distinguished carriage, and the exquisitely cut features of Odile of Nideck,—that purity of outline only to be met with in the realms of aristocracy,—and I tried in vain to recall anything comparable to her in my recollection.

"Make haste, Gretchen! Don't keep the travellers waiting," said the young Countess.

"Yes, madame."

The servant departed, and I stood for a few moments unable to dispel the charm of my meditations. Odile turned and addressed me.

"You see, monsieur," she said with a sad smile, "we are not allowed to indulge our grief; we must ever divide ourselves between our feelings and the claims that others have upon us."

"That is too true, mademoiselle," I replied; "souls of the higher sort seem purposed to serve as a guide and promise to us weaker ones: the traveller who has lost his path, the sick man, and the starving pauper,—each has a claim upon them, for God has created them like the stars above us, for the happiness of all."

Odile lowered her deep-fringed eyelids, while Sperver pressed my hand.

After a moment, the Countess continued:

"Ah, monsieur, if you could only save my father!"

"As I have had the pleasure of telling you before, mademoiselle, yesterday's crisis is past; we must now endeavor to prevent its recurrence."

"Do you believe that this can be done?"

"With God's help, mademoiselle, it is not impossible. I must give the matter the most careful thought."

Odile, much agitated, moved with me to the door, and as I bowed myself out of the chamber, I fancied that I detected in her lovely face an expression of increased hope. Sperver and I crossed the antechamber, where a few servants were standing awaiting the orders of their mistress. We had just entered the corridor, when Gideon, who led the way, turned abruptly round, and resting his hands on my shoulders, said:

"Gaston, I am a man to be trusted; what is your opinion of the case?"

"There is nothing to be feared to-night."

"I know that; you said as much to the Countess. But to-morrow?"

"To-morrow?"

"Yes. Don't turn your head. I suppose you can't prevent a recurrence of the attack, but, frankly, do you think he will die of it?"

"He may, but I don't anticipate it."

"Ah," cried the good fellow joyfully; "that means you are sure he won't!"

Thrusting his arm through mine, he pulled me into the gallery. We had hardly set foot in it when the Baron Zimmer and his groom appeared, preceded by Sebalt, who carried a flaming torch in his hand. They were on their way to their chambers, and these two figures, with their cloaks flung over their shoulders, their knee-boots of soft Hungarian leather, their waists tightly buttoned in, their long green tunics ornamented with frogs and twisted fringes of silk and gold, their bearskin caps drawn down over their ears, and their long hunting-knives stuck in their belts, looked strangely picturesque in the white light of the dripping pine torch.

"By Jove!" exclaimed Sperver, "if I am not greatly mistaken, those are our TÜbingen friends. They were close at our heels, you see."

"You are right; they are the same people! I remember the younger one by his slim figure; he has the profile of an eagle, and wears his mustache like the astrologer-general Wallenstein."

They disappeared beneath a side triforium.

Gideon took a torch from the wall, and guided me through a labyrinth of corridors, passageways, and high, low, turret-shaped, and winding entries. I thought he would never have done.

"Here is the hall of the Margraves," he said; "and this is the portrait gallery. There is the chapel, where no mass has been said since Louis the Bald became a Protestant. Next comes the armory."

These facts possessed but little interest for me. After having reached the end of the gallery, we had to descend a staircase that seemed interminable; at last, thank Heaven! we halted before a low, massive door. Sperver drew an enormous key from his pocket, and handing me the torch, said, "Mind the light; be careful!"

At the same time, he pushed open the door, and the cold outside air rushed into the passageway. The flame leaped back and sent a shower of sparks in all directions. I fancied myself standing on the edge of an abyss, and I recoiled instinctively.

"Ha, Ha!" laughed the steward, his mouth parted in a broad grin, "any one would think you were afraid, Gaston. Come on! We are now in the little court that leads from the Castle to the old tower."

The good fellow moved on by way of example. The snow lay deep in this courtyard, and the wind swept it with terrific gusts. Had any one seen our flaring torch upon the plain, he would have asked himself, "What are they doing up there in the clouds? Why are they prowling about at this time of night?"

"Perhaps the old witch is looking up at us," I thought, and the idea made me shudder. I drew closer the folds of my cloak, and holding my hat on with the other hand, I ran after Sperver, who held his light above his head to show me the path, and moved along with rapid strides.

We rushed into the tower, and then into Hugh's Chamber, where a bright fire greeted us with cheerful cracklings. How grateful it was to be sheltered by the thick walls! I had stopped while Sperver closed the door, and contemplating this ancient abode, I cried, "Thank God, we shall have a moment to rest now!"

"And before an excellent table," added Gideon. "Just look at that,—the leg of a kid, two roasted pheasants, a blue-backed pike, his mouth stuffed with parsley; cold meats and hot wines is what I like. I have no fault to find with Kasper; he has carried out my orders to the letter!"

Gideon spoke truly,—"cold meats and hot wines;" for before the fire stood a generous array of bottles, being submitted to the gentle influence of the heat. The sight of this repast served to whet my already considerable appetite; but Sperver, who understood the art of being comfortable, said to me:

"Don't be in too great a hurry, Gaston! Let's take things easily! We have time enough; the pheasants won't fly away, and as for the pike, I'll warrant he cares no more about swimming. In the first place, having been eight hours in the saddle, your boots must hurt you, so off with them. Sit down there and put your boot between my knees. I've got that one; let's have the other. There you are. Now put your feet in these slippers, take off your cloak, and throw this dressing-gown over you. Now you'll do!"

Having gone through a similar course of preparation, he cried in a hearty tone:

"Now, Gaston, fall to! You do your share and I'll do mine, and remember well the German proverb: 'If Beelzebub created thirst, surely the Lord made wine to quench it.'"