Withered Leaves: A Novel. Vol. 3 (of 3)

by Rudolf von Gottschall

It was well that Giulia and Sperner appeared, or Lori would have fallen into Blanden's arms upon the Castle leads, if he had shown the least inclination to bear so precious a burden.

At any rate Frau Sperner had the satisfaction of driving back to the town in Herr von Blanden's elegant carriage. Reclining in the soft cushions, drawn by the four high stepping horses, she could indulge in dreams of being the mistress and owner of this team! How contemptible the Doctor appeared at that moment; he possessed no carriages and horses, castles and villages, forests and meadows, and yet assumed a mien as if his frown were dreaded in a circumference of thirty square miles. And he was really living upon borrowed capital. That was all the grandeur!

With a sigh she leaned back in the cushions and closed her eyes, and in a half dream of delight she saw herself as Frau von Blanden with Sperner seated in his proper place, upon the box in a splendid livery, thrashing the horses and stroking his moustache.

A few days after this visit, Blanden had to cross the frontier to see a landowner in Russian Poland about agricultural matters and the new buildings, for which he hoped to find desirable materials. Giulia bade him a fond farewell, as though she had a presentiment that it would be farewell for a long, long time. The road from Kulmitten first led along a beautifully situated road on the estate, then between little lakes on either side; farther on, at several places, the traveller might easily imagine himself to be in Arabia Petræa, for the highway went past hills which had been strewn with a shower of stones. Here not a tree grew, not a shrub, it was a limitless waste. The horses, too, had difficulty in making their way through the stony débris, for Blanden had already to diverge from the main road, because his friend's estate was only accessible along by-ways. It was a toilsome drive, twilight overtook them before the frontier was reached. Meanwhile the landscape had again assumed a different character; the hills were covered with woods, and in the hollows between them small lakes which terminated in swamps. The carriage wheels often ran so closely to their edge that only the light of the carriage lamps and the driver's caution preserved them from some mishap. Some of these morasses were so deep that it would be fatal to sink into them. Suddenly the carriage dropped below into a copse dividing two lakes or swamps; a string of carts which had been driven up one behind another, and would not move on, blocked the road. The coachman became impatient, but he was bidden to wait; Blanden sprang out of the carriage and climbed up a little eminence close to the road, however, it was too dusk to be able to overlook the whole train. He saw a few dark figures moving about amongst the carts, and some of them were armed with guns.

At last the cry "Forward!" resounded. The line of carts was set in motion, it was possible to proceed. Blanden had to act as rear-guard.

Thus they went on for some time alternating from wooded hills to swampy vallies, then they stopped again, a post with the Russian colours showed that the frontier was reached. That "halt!" was not given in the loud voice of the "forward," but in a whispered tone. Blanden became impatient, he knew already that he had fallen amidst a caravan of smugglers, which could only seek to cross the frontier on by-roads, in the dead of the night. Then suddenly the soundless silence was disturbed by noisy cries; shots and din of conflict followed, the horses in Blanden's carriage reared, the coachman could hardly keep them in hand. More shots. Cossacks on fleet horses dashed upon the foot-wide margin that separated the carts from a swamp on the right hand from a steep wooded hill on the left. They overpowered the drivers of the carts, bound them safely, and mounted the waggons themselves. A Cossack also seated himself beside Blanden's coachman, obliging him to deviate from his course and follow to the frontier station.

As they drove past the scene of conflict he saw that it had cost the lives of several victims; a wounded Cossack was lifted up and placed in one of the carts, two officials from the frontier searched a wildly overgrown bank running out into the swamp, evidently they expected to find a wounded smuggler there. As the road became wider, and passed through a plain of meadows, one cart was left behind to bring on a few more prisoners, and several Cossacks galloped back to catch some runaway smugglers. Clearly the attack on the column of carts had been unexpected and sudden, and doubtlessly its leader had formerly often succeeded in crossing the frontier unperceived by these remote roads.

Blanden was supremely annoyed at this compulsory divergence; almost an hour elapsed before they reached the station, near which was an inn. He knew the inspector of the frontier personally, and also had papers with him fully proving his identity, and setting the matter beyond doubt that he was in nowise connected with the band of smugglers.

The Cossack upon the box, who had escorted him safely, took leave, and for his unwelcome trouble received a trink-geld that he accepted with eloquent gestures. It was too late at night to drive to his friend's estate, they had turned off in an exactly opposite direction. Blanden had the horses taken out, and resigned himself to the fate of spending the rest of the night in that miserable inn.

Gradually the carts arrived with the Cossacks. Blanden had preceded them. The waggons contained jewellery, silks, and linen; he learned that a bold speculator, who accompanied the train himself, hoped to do a great stroke of business with it. He had not yet been caught. Blanden overheard all this in the inn parlour, when he walked impatiently up and down, waiting for the wretched meal which he had ordered.