“Give me your arm,” replied the danneman.
He began to roll the cord carefully around Christian’s left arm.
“That will be enough to amuse the wicked one,” he said; “while he has this arm in his claws, with your other hand you will rip open his belly with this spear. But I will explain what you must do as we go along. You are ready; let us start.”
“Well,” cried the officers, who were awaiting Christian in the vestibule; “shall we have good luck?”
“For my part,” said Christian, “it seems that I am invulnerable; but I am afraid the bear won’t be so well off. The seeress said that he would fly to the east.”
“No, no,” replied the danneman, whose serious and confident manner forbade any joking; “it was said that the ravenous one would rush towards the east, but not that he would not be killed. Forward!”
Before following Christian to the hunt, we will return, for some moments, to the chateau de Waldemora, whence the baron had started with all his able-bodied male guests, and two or three hundred trackers, immediately after sunrise.
The place towards which this seignorial battue proceeded, was much lower down on the mountain than the danneman’s cottage. It was quite accessible to the ladies, who all went, some with the resolution of seeing the bear-hunt as near as possible, and others, less courageous, promising themselves that they would not venture further than to the edge of the wood. Olga, who was eager to show the baron that she was interested in his prowess, was among the former. Margaret, who did not care at all for the baron’s prowess, and Mademoiselle Martina Akerstrom, the daughter of the minister of the parish, and the fiancée of Lieutenant Osburn—an excellent young girl, rather too high colored for beauty, but agreeable, affectionate, and sincere, whom Margaret preferred to any of her other new acquaintances—were among the latter. We may as well state, in passing, that Minister Mickelson, of whom mention was made in relating the story of Baroness Hilda, had died long ago, after rashly quarrelling, it was asserted, with Baron Olaus. His successor was a very respectable man, and although his living was in the gift of the chatelain, as was the right of certain fiefs, he showed great dignity and independence in his relations with the Snow Man. Perhaps the baron had found out that it was more to his advantage to be on good terms with a good man, than to have to cater to the bad passions of a dangerous friend. He treated him with great respect, and the pastor often appealed to him in behalf of the feeble and poor, without irritating him by his frankness.
On the whole, there was a lack of excitement in the baron’s hunt. No one believed that they would find any bears so near the chateau, especially after several days of revelry and feasting. The bear is naturally shy and sulky. He has no liking either for orchestral music or the play of fireworks; and the whisper passed around from one to the other, that if they should happen to find one, it would surely be a tame bear and a capital dancer, who would come of his own accord to give his paw to the chatelain. The weather, however, was magnificent; the roads through the forest were practicable, and no one failed to be upon the spot, even the old people, who drove to a very comfortable rustic pavilion, where breakfast and dinner were to be served, whether the hunters killed bears or hares.
When the chateau was about deserted, Johan, after sending off on various pretences the servants of whom he did not feel sure, proceeded to exercise the duties of the inquisitor, which he had boasted he would carry through successfully. We subjoin an account of his day, as he noted down all that occurred, hour by hour, with the greatest precision: