CHAPTER XIII.
Ludwig went up to Martella and said, "Martella, there is a woman in America who knows you."
Martella jumped to her feet and, brushing her hair from her face with both hands, asked, "How do you know that?"
"I will tell you how, when you have told your history. Will you do so?"
"I will. It is well and proper that I should. But no one shall be present but you and father. Forgive me, kind ladies," she said, addressing Conny and Annette in an unwonted tone. "I can only tell this to father and to brother."
She drank a few drops of water, and then, seating herself behind the table that was next to the wall, began:
"I can only remember as far back as my sixth year. I have no distinct recollection of anything that happened before that time. We lived in a city on the Rhine,--I believe it is called Mayence. There are two sorts of soldiers there--Prussians and Austrians. The Austrians have white coats, like the cousin who once visited us with Baron Arven. Under the small golden mirror in my mother's room on the opposite wall, there was quite a large glass that reached from the ceiling to the floor there was a portrait of a handsome officer, whom I believe I have already seen. My mother always addressed him as 'Prince,' and he laughed when she did so. His eyes were of a light blue; I cannot recall any of his other features. My mother would often say to me, while she pointed to the picture, 'Martella, do not forget, this is your father. He has great love for me, and for you too.' It was a long while before I knew how my mother gained her living. She would sleep until near mid-day, and would often stand on her toes, or walk on them around the room. Then she would suddenly let herself fall to the ground, spring up again and take long steps. Then she would place herself before the mirror, and bow and kiss her hands to herself. Once she looked so lovely, with a thin gauze-like robe about her body, and various kinds of gauze over that. She looked just like a beautiful bird, and almost like the peacock down in the garden. And I was prettily dressed also. I had wings on my shoulders, and they had two mirrors for me, so that I might see how I looked in front, and in the back. And I had golden shoes on, and had to learn how to spread out my hands and then bring them together quite slowly. With a girdle around my waist--it was golden, and studded with diamonds--I floated in the air, and could hear the people screaming with delight and clapping their hands; but I could not see where I was, or how many people were there. We rode home in a carriage--I can recollect that, but cannot remember what happened for some time afterward. One day, my mother showed me a man who wore a green dressing-gown and had curled hair; then she said to me: 'My child, this is your father now--you must say "father" to him.'
"He spoke to me, but I could not understand what he said; and mother said, 'The child is worth ten thousand florins, and can earn a great deal of money.'
"About that time, I often heard the word 'America,' and, as I was told to call everybody 'uncle,' I once inquired where 'Uncle America lived?' whereupon they laughed very loud, and the man with the curled hair, whom I had to call father, kissed me.
"There was a maid living with us, who would always say, 'You poor child, you must go to America, among the savages. O you poor child!'
"And one morning, I heard them say that we would go to America that day. Down by the Rhine there was a great crowd and noise, and when we were on the vessel, some one said, 'Keep your seat here, or you will be left behind?' And when all was confusion on shipboard, I stealthily crept on shore, and hid myself behind some hogsheads in which the bees were humming; they did not trouble me. I heard the ringing of the bell, and the paddling of the wheels--but did not move. I had a little satchel full of cakes, which I ate.
"The embroidered satchel had been presented to me by the Prince, whose picture hung under the mirror. I still own it; it is the only memento I have of that time. And we had a dog whose name was Pincher, and for that reason I called my poor departed dog by the same name.
"When at last evening came, I crept out of my hiding-place, and saw a great crowd gathered about an old woman who was sitting on the ground and lamenting: They have purposely left me behind; they did not want to take me with them!'
"The people told her they would help her, and would give her money that she might follow her relatives. But she always replied, 'No, I will not do that; they do not want me.' And they gave the old woman money and went on their way. And when they had all gone, I said to her, 'Take me with you; I am worth ten thousand florins.'
"Then she laughed and said, 'Indeed you are!' And then I told her that I had secretly remained behind--that I did not want to go to America.
"She laughed again, and took me on her lap, saying: 'That is right. We two will stay together.'
"And we wandered far and near, and she told every one that I was her granddaughter. We received many gifts, and every one told me that I was so pretty; and I told the old woman--her name was Jaegerlies--that I had wings, and she said, 'I believe it: they will grow again when I am dead.' But I am telling you silly stuff--am I not?"
"No, no; go on."
"At last we reached yonder forest, and then Jaegerlies said, 'Let us stay here.' She had acquaintances who lived in the neighborhood, but she had no desire to meet any one, as they always laughed at her because her folks had left her behind when they emigrated to America.
"The gifts that we had received, had enabled us to buy cooking utensils, coverings for our moss beds, and a goat; and of food we could always have plenty.
"The summers were pleasant, but the winters were not so. We caught many birds, which served as food.
"I was also sent to school, and it was quite humiliating to me to be always told that I was a 'Jew girl.' I did not know what was meant by Jew, but I knew, that it was intended as a term of disgrace. I am not sure, but I think my mother was a Catholic.
"And thus I grew up and could wield the axe as well as the strongest wood-cutter; and no one dared to lay a finger on me.
"You might blind-fold me, and I could, by my sense of smell, recognize trees or their leaves. I carried a serpent's egg on my person; I had found it one morning between eleven and twelve, and had pocketed it. I had also a gift of finding wild honey, and the bees never harmed me when I took the combs. I was once employed that way, when Ernst came up to me. He acted as if he were about to punish me for what I had done; but I told him that this was not breaking of the laws of the forest, and that it was not poaching. And then he said to me, 'You are wild honey yourself.'
"Thus Ernst found me and brought me here, where I now am. But I do not deserve it. They say that Ernst is in Algiers, with the wild Turks. Give me some money that I may go to him--I can find him.
"But tell me now, Ludwig, how do you know that my mother is in America?"
"I know nothing of it; I simply guessed so, because you always have such a fear of America."
"So you are the son of such parents--and yet can lie? Your mother in heaven will never forgive you for that."
Ludwig was moved by this apostrophe, and asked Martella to forgive him. She nodded assent and shook hands with him and with me, saying at the same time: "Father, I shall do nothing more but what you tell me to do. I shall never again act of my own free will."
"Were you always called Martella?" inquired Ludwig.
"No."
"How, then?"
"Conradine."
"Who gave you the name of Martella?"
"Jaegerlies."
"Why?"
"Because, she said, 'No one will know you by that name, and if they seek you they cannot find you.'"
"But how did she chance on that name?"
"That you ought to have asked her. And that is enough. Good-night."
Martella walked away.
Ludwig afterward told me that he had been making inquiries over in the valley where Jaegerlies had been living. He could not understand why we had not done so long before. Now it might be very difficult to discover anything, as Jaegerlies had died a few days before.
He had learned, from the neighbors, that she often spoke of America in a mysterious and indistinct manner, and that, together with Martella's aversion to the very mention of America, caused him to question her in the way he had done.