"Then, if you will allow me to suggest a plan for accomplishing the first stage of the journey, which is the difficult part of the business, in the first place it will be necessary to pack up what you need. Will you be good enough, countess, to select the trunks you mean to bring? When this is done I will harness the horses; then we must lock and seal the rooms, and my servants will watch them until you send your proper people. This done, we can set out; and as we shall have to pa.s.s the steward"s house, we can call there, and look for any books he may have for keeping the accounts of the estate. They would be useful."
"I shall not go there; I don"t want any accounts."
"Very good. Then we shall go straight to the inn in my village."
"What to do?"
"Because the post is there. We must get post-horses."
"And why post-horses? Cannot I drive my own horses?"
"No."
"And why not?"
"Because they are screws. They would not reach the next station."
"My horses! Why do you say they are screws?" asked the countess, angrily.
"Because they are in bad condition."
"Bear!" thought Theudelinde. "He answers me so roughly."
"I shall not enter the inn," she said, determinedly. "I go nowhere where men drink. Cannot I wait at your house until the horses are changed?"
"Certainly. I am charmed to receive you, countess; only you will find nothing suitable for you. I live alone _en garcon_."
"Oh, that does not matter," returned the countess, with an air of indifference.
"Will you have the goodness, then," said Ivan, "to begin your preparations and select the clothes you mean to pack up?"
Theudelinde gave a strange smile. "My packing will not take long; my luggage will not be heavy. Will you make a good fire while I go to my wardrobe? It is very cold in this room."
In the sitting-room there was a large marble fireplace, and in the ashes of the grate some sparks still lingered. Ivan put some wood on the smouldering fire, and soon a genial blaze glowed in the chimney.
It welcomed the countess, who presently returned, carrying in her arms a heap of dresses and clothes of all description.
Ivan looked at her in dismay. "You are going to pack all those?"
"Yes, and as many more, which still remain in my wardrobe."
"But, countess, where?"
"Here," returned Theudelinde, as she flung the bundle on the fire.
It filled up the whole fireplace, and the fire, catching the light materials, there was presently a crackling sound, while the old chimney roared again with joy over such a splendid contribution.
The two men looked on in silence at this _auto-da-fe_.
Ten times did Theudelinde go backward and forward to her room, each time returning with fresh armfuls of finery, and when these were exhausted, her linen, boots, shoes, etc., followed; while at each sacrifice the flames in the chimney leaped and danced, and the wind blew the flames up the chimney, where they roared like so many demons.
"Well, this sort of packing makes short work," thought Ivan, but said nothing.
The clergyman stood with his hands behind his back. The countess"s eyes danced, her cheeks were flushed, her activity was unceasing. When all was consumed she turned to Ivan with a triumphant air.
"It is finished," she said.
"And may I ask in what toilette your ladyship intends to travel?"
"In the clothes I wear, and my fur cloak."
"Then I shall go and get the carriage."
When he was gone the countess, a.s.sisted by the abbe, put on her fur pelisse lined with sable. She took with her nothing that she had ever used; in her opinion everything was defiled.
After a few minutes Ivan returned, and announced that the carriage was at the entrance. The doors were then locked, and a seal affixed to each.
When they entered the hall the sight of the dog which the abbe had spared presented a difficulty. If they left him he would die of hunger. The countess thought it would be better to shoot him also.
Ivan, however, was more merciful.
"I will chain him to the carriage, and he will follow us."
Theudelinde was certain the hound would bite him; but the dog"s instinct a.s.sured him that it was a friend who now approached. He allowed Ivan to put on his chain, and licked his hand to show his grat.i.tude. All was now done, Ivan locked the gates, gave the key to the abbe, who with the countess was already seated in the carriage, jumped on the coach-box, and drove away from Bondavara Castle. They went slowly, for the two miserable nags, which were dignified with the name of carriage horses, could hardly drag them along. They were spent with age and starvation, and were only fit for the knacker"s yard.
As the vehicle turned in the direction of the coal-mine Ivan remarked a cloud of smoke in the distance, and soon after they met a group of laborers carrying requisites for putting out a fire, hurrying in the direction of the smoke. On being questioned they said the granary of the n.o.ble countess was burning, but that they hoped to extinguish the fire.
"I think it will be easily done," Ivan said. "The steward set it on fire to conceal the defalcation in the crop."
The countess was indignant, but Ivan remarked dryly that property had its duties, and that those who never looked after their own interests were fair game for the thief.
A rough, ill-mannered man!
It was full daylight before the n.o.ble coach, drawn by the pair of n.o.ble nags, made its way through the heavy snow into the Bergwerk Colony. The wretched beasts were steaming as they drew up at Ivan"s door. Ivan"s first care was to call the postmaster to take them to his stable, and to order a good pair of fresh horses to replace them. Then he led his tired guests into his workroom. All the other rooms were cold and cheerless, so he took them where there was warmth and light.
In the room everything was in the utmost disorder; it was hard to find a place where the countess could sit down. She looked about her with astonishment at the strange objects which enc.u.mbered the tables and chairs; every available spot was taken up by some extraordinary, diabolical-looking invention. She cast a look of terror at the chemical laboratory, upon whose furnace the coals still glimmered, testifying to the experiment upon which Ivan had been at work when interrupted by the steward"s tap at the window.
"Cagliostro"s workshop," she whispered to the abbe. "There are mysterious things done here."
What annoyed the countess far more than the evidences of mystery and magic which surrounded her was the idea that she was the guest and the debtor of this rough, common fellow. She, rich, well-born, a faithful child of the Church, owed her rescue from a most unpleasant position to this obscure, G.o.dless tradesman. If she could only pay him the heaviest interest for his loan, and had not to say "thank you!"
And yet she had to swallow the indignity.
Ivan, after an absence of a few minutes, returned, followed by a maid carrying a tray with the steaming breakfast. She laid the cloth, and set out the cups and coffee-cans. The countess would gladly have made some excuse to avoid tasting the food presented by her unholy host, but the abbe, who was a man of the world, drew his chair to the table, and invited Theudelinde to follow his example, "For," he said, "we shall not get anything to eat till the evening, as there are no inns on our road; and you want refreshment before your long journey."
When the countess saw that no demons seized upon the clergyman, and that the coffee of the Warlock seemed innocent of all evil, she, too, came to the table and sipped a few spoonfuls, but she found it was execrable stuff; the milk was not so bad, and she contented herself with that and bread.
Ivan began to talk about the weather--a very general subject of conversation; but herein there was this difference. Instead of an ignoramus, it was a meteorologist who handled the theme. Ivan a.s.sured the countess that both the barometer and his English gla.s.s pointed to fine weather, the sun was as warm as in May, their journey would be excellent. As he spoke, Ivan drew back the thick green window curtains, and let in the bright sunlight to enliven the half-darkened room. The first effect of this sudden eruption of light was to show the countess her own face reflected in a large concave mirror which hung on the wall opposite to her.
It is an undoubted fact that we all like to see our reflection in a gla.s.s; our eyes wander to it naturally, and the most earnest orator, in the midst of his finest peroration, will gesticulate to his own image with more satisfaction than to a crowded audience; but it is a totally different thing if it should be a magnifying-gla.s.s. What a horrible distortion of ourselves--head as large as a cask, features of a giant, expression that of a satyr; a sight too dreadful to contemplate.