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 Görz, 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.