Oddo repented his prank when he saw, in the flickering light behind the crowd of guests, who seemed to hang together like a bunch of grapes, the figures of his grandfather and Erica. The old man had come out in the cold for his sake; and Erica, who looked as white as the snow, had no doubt come forth because the old man wanted a guide. Oddo now wished himself out of the scrape. Sorry as he was, he could not help being amused, and keeping himself hidden a little longer, when he saw Rolf discover the round hole in the snow where the can had sunk, and heard the different opinions of the company as to what this portended. Most were convinced that his curiosity had been his destruction, as they had always prophesied. What could be clearer by this hole than that the ale had stood there, and been carried off with the cake, and Oddo with it, because he chose to stay and witness what is forbidden to mortals?
“I wonder where he is now?” said a shivering youth, the gayest dancer of the evening.
“O, there is no doubt about that; any one can tell you that,” replied the elderly and experienced M. Holberg. “He is chained upon a wind, poor fellow, like all Nipen’s victims. He will have to be shut up in a cave all the hot summer through, when it is pleasantest to be abroad; and when the frost and snow come again, he will be driven out with a lash of Nipen’s whip, and he must go flying wherever his wind flies without resting or stopping to warm himself at any fire in the country. Every winter now, when Erlingsen hears a moaning above his chimney, he may know it is poor Oddo, foolish boy!”
“Foolish boy! but one can’t help pitying him,” said another. “Chained astride upon the wind, and never to be warm again!”
Oddo had thus far kept his laughter to himself, but now he could contain himself no longer. He laughed aloud, and then louder and louder as he heard the echoes all laughing with him. The faces below, too, were so very ridiculous—some of the people staring up in the air, and others at the rock where the echo came from; some having their mouths wide open, others their eyes starting, and all looking unlike themselves in the torchlight. His mirth was stopped by his master.
“Come down, sir,” cried Erlingsen, looking up at the gallery. “Come down this moment. We shall make you remember this night as well perhaps as Nipen could do. Come down, and bring my can and the ale and the cake. The more pranks you play to-night the more you will repent it.”
Most of the company thought Erlingsen very bold to talk in this way; but he was presently justified by Oddo’s appearance on the balustrade. His master seized him as he touched the ground, while the others stood aloof.
“Where is my ale-can?” said Erlingsen.
“Here, sir;” and Oddo held it up dangling by the handle.
“And the cake? I bade you bring down the cake with you.”