[I.]
FOR a full quarter of an hour some one had been knocking and ringing at the outside door of the gothic manor of Stollborg; but the bourrasque was blowing so very furiously, and old Stenson was so extremely deaf! The old man’s nephew, Ulphilas, a colossal blond who assisted him in his duties, heard somewhat better, but he believed in ghosts, and was not at all anxious to open the door to them. M. Stenson, former steward of the Baron de Waldemora, was an invalid, and a man of melancholy character; he was at present the overseer of Stollborg; and he lived in one of the pavilions of this old, battered, and abandoned chateau. It really seemed to him that some one was knocking at the door of the court, but Ulphilas judiciously called his attention to the fact that the goblins and trolls of the lake were in the habit of playing just such tricks. Stenson, with a sigh, began to read his old Bible again, and in a very few moments went to bed.
At last, the persons outside became so impatient that they forced the lock of the door, introduced themselves into the court, and, following a narrow gallery on the ground-floor, entered, with their ass, the very room that we have just described, which was called the bear-room, from the crowned animal carved on the armorial shield above the outside window.
The door of this room was usually fastened, and its being open to-day was due to an unusual circumstance, about which, however, the strangers did not trouble themselves at all.
Rather strange-looking individuals were these unexpected visitors of Stollborg! One of them was wrapped up in a sheepskin, and looked like one of those ugly scarecrows that are used in gardens and hemp-fields to frighten birds; the other, who was tall and well made, resembled a good-natured Italian brigand.
The ass was a fine ass: strong, and carrying a load that would have been sufficient for an ox; he was so accustomed to travelling adventures, that he made no sort of objection to going up several steps, and showed no surprise when he found himself treading upon a pine floor instead of the straw of a stable. The poor ass was ill, however, and the taller of the two travellers who was leading him, looked after his comfort before attending to anything else.
“Puffo,” he said, placing his lantern on a large table in the middle of the room, “Jean has a cold; he is coughing as if he would split his lungs.”
“Parbleu, I am no better off myself!” replied Puffo in Italian, the same language which his companion had employed; “do you suppose, master, that it makes a fellow fresh and jolly to drag him about in this devil of a country?”
“I too am cold and tired,” replied the master, as Puffo called him; “but there is no use in complaining. Here we are, and we must not allow ourselves to die of cold. Look and see whether this is really the bear-room that we were told about.”
“How shall I recognize it?”