Here stood, to wit, the young betrothed pair, Junker Kai and Fröken Mette.[10] The first, a handsome young man of about twenty-five, elegantly dressed and in the newest fashion of the time. To show with what weapons ladies’ hearts were in those days attacked and won, I must attempt to impart some idea of his exterior, beginning with the feet, that I may go on rising in my description: these, then, were protected by very broad-toed short boots, the wide legs of which fell down in many folds about his ankles; under these he wore white silk stockings, which were drawn up about a hand’s-breadth above the knees, and the tops of which were garnished with a row of the finest lace; next came a pair of tight black velvet breeches, a small part only of which appeared in sight, the greater portion being concealed by the spacious flap of a waistcoat also of black velvet. A crimson coat with a row of large covered buttons, short sleeves, scarcely reaching to the wrists, but with cuffs turned back to the elbows, and confined by a hook over the breast, completed his outward decorations. His hair was combed back perfectly smooth, and tied in a long stiff queue close up in his neck. I should merit, and get but few thanks from my fair readers, if I did not with the same accuracy describe the dress of the honourable young lady, which may be considered under three principal divisions: firstly, the sharp-pointed, high-heeled, silver-buckled shoes; secondly, the little red, gold-laced cap, which came down with a sharp peak over the forehead, and concealed all the turned up hair; and thirdly, the long-waisted, sky-blue flowered damask gown, the wide sleeves of which, hardly reaching to the elbows, left the shoulders and neck bare, and—what may seem singular—was not laced; but Fröken Mette’s face was so strikingly beautiful, that, in looking at her, her dress might easily be forgotten.
These two comely personages stood there, as we have said, behind the old gentleman, hand in hand, and, as it seemed, engaged in a flirtation. The Junker from time to time protruded his pointed lips as if for a kiss, and the lady as often turned her face away, not exactly with displeasure, but with a roguish smile. The most singular thing was, that every time she bent her head aside, she peeped out into the court, where at the moment nothing was to be seen (for the gamekeeper stood too close under the window to be visible) but the wooden horse and the new writing-lad, who, the instant he entered the office, had placed himself at the open window. That this latter, notwithstanding the predicate “writing-lad,” was a remarkably handsome youth, it may seem strange to say, for, in the first place, he had a large scar above his cheek, and, in the second, he was clad wholly and solely as a writing-lad. It is needless to stay my narrative in portraying the mother of Fröken Mette, the good Fru[11] Kirsten, who was sitting in another window, and, with a smile of satisfaction, observing the amorous play of the two young people. The good old lady could with the greater reason rejoice at this match, as, from the beginning, it was entirely her own work. She had, as her gracious spouse in his hunting dialect jocosely expressed it, among a whole herd of Junkers scented out the fattest, and stuck a ticket on his foot. As the young gentleman was an only son, the heir to Palstrup, as well as many other lordships, the match was soon settled between the parents, and then announced to their children. The bridegroom, who was just returned from Paris when Fru Kirsten, in her husband’s phraseology, took him by the horn, was perfectly well inclined to the match, for which no thanks were due to him, as Fröken Mette was young, beautiful, an only child, and heiress to Ansbjerg, the deer, wild-boars, and pheasants of which were as good as those of Palstrup, while with respect to heath-fowl and ducks it was vastly superior. As to the bride, she was so completely under subjection to the will of her parents, that for the present we may leave it doubtful how far her own inclination was favourable to the Junker. We know, indeed, that the female heart usually prefers choosing for itself, and often rejects a suitor for no other reason than because he was chosen by the parents; though if Junker Kai had been first in the field we should not have been under any apprehension on his account.
When the keeper had recounted all his misfortunes, which he did not venture to conceal, as both the writing-lad and his guide, and probably also the deer-stealer himself, would have made it known, the harsh master, whose anger often bordered on frenzy, broke forth into the most hearty maledictions on the poacher, from which shower of unpropitious wishes a few drops fell on poor Niels, who, out of fear of his master, was obliged to swallow his own equally well-meant oaths. As soon as the first fury of the storm had subsided and given place to common sense, a plan was devised for immediate and ample vengeance; the daring culprit should be seized, and, as he could now be easily convicted of deer-stealing, should be transferred to the hands of justice, and thence, after all due formalities, to Bremerholm. The difficulty was to catch him, for if he got but the slightest hint of his danger, he would, it was reasonable to imagine, instantly take to flight, and leave his wife and children in the lurch. The lord of the manor, who had been severely wounded in so tender a part, was for setting forth without a moment’s delay, as so much of the day was left, that before the appearance of night they might reach the hut of Black Mads. But the gracious lady, in whose revenge a surer plan and maturer consideration were always manifest, represented to her impetuous mate, that the darkness would also favour the culprit’s flight; or, if this were prevented, a desperate defence; it would therefore be better to march out a little after midnight, so that the whole armed force might invest and take the hut at break of day. This proposition was unanimously approved, and the Junker was invited to share in the peril and glory of the undertaking. The bailiff (who had just entered to announce the arrival of the new writing-lad, and to show a letter of recommendation brought by him from the bailiff at Vestervig) received orders to hold himself in readiness, together with the gardener, the steward, and the stable-boys, and also to order a peasant-cart to follow the march.
III.—THE NISSE.[12]
Who does not know—at least by name—the Nisse, the being whose waggeries almost all bear the stamp of good-humoured frolic? Who has not heard tell of his little rotund figure and his red Jacobin cap, the symbol of unrestricted liberty? Who knows not that the house he chooses as a dwelling, is perfectly safe from fire and other calamities? The Nisse is a true blessing to the habitation that he honours with his presence; it is secure against fire, storms, and thieves,—who, then, would take so greatly amiss the little fellow’s gambols? If he now and then takes out one of the horses and rides him till he is white with sweat, it is merely for the sake of improving his action; if he milks a cow before the milk-maid is up, it is solely to get her into the habit of early rising; if he occasionally sucks an egg, cries “miou” with puss in the cock-loft, or oversets a utensil, who can be angry with him, or grudge, him his little dish of Christmas porridge, which no considerate housewife omits setting for him in a corner of the loft? It is only when this is neglected that his character assumes a slight dash of vindictiveness: for then the mistress of the house may be tolerably sure of having her porridge burnt, or her soup grouty; her beer will turn, or her milk will not cream, and she must not be surprised if she churn a whole day without getting butter.
Such a little domestic goblin had from time out of mind (and still has, for aught I know to the contrary,) his abode at Ansbjerg; though it seems probable that this was not his only habitation, as many years sometimes passed without a trace appearing of his existence. But just at the period in which the events recorded in our history took place, he began to resume his old pranks. The gardener from time to time missed some of his choicest flowers, or several of the largest and ripest peaches; but, what was most wonderful, these were often found in the morning in Fröken Mette’s chamber, whence it was reasonably concluded that the lady stood high in the good graces of the beforementioned Nisse. The grooms, moreover, declared that often during the night there seemed witchery among the horses, and that in the morning one of them would be found so jaded, that it would appear to have just come off a very long and rapid journey. They protested—and who could doubt it—that they had often been heard springing about the stable, but that on entering every thing was perfectly quiet. Once indeed they even got a glimpse of the portentous red cap, and afterwards took great care to meddle no farther in the concerns of the Nisse,—a very prudent resolve. Such unquestionable testimony failed not to make a deep impression on all the inmates of the mansion, particularly the womankind; even the gracious lord of the manor himself listened to these reports with a silence big with signification.
Such was the state of things when the expedition against Black Mads was undertaken, which formed an epoch in the history of Ansbjerg, and was used for many years after as an era in the dating of events, as, “that happened in the year we went in search of Black Mads; that was two or three years after,” &c. &c. In anxious expectation those left behind waited the whole day for the return of the army of execution. Noon came, evening, midnight; but still not one of the party appeared. They at home comforted themselves with the supposition, that the delinquent, after his capture, might have been conducted to Viborg, in which case the whole day might easily have been spent, and after so wearying a march, it was but right that the troops should get an evening’s refreshment, and a night’s rest, in the town. On the strength of this extremely reasonable hypothesis, both mistress and domestics went to bed, one servant only remaining up. At length, about an hour after midnight, came Junker Kai and his groom. But before I proceed further, it will be desirable to explain the cause of his late arrival, and of the continued absence of the rest of the party.
The poacher’s hut, which he had himself erected in a remarkably simple style, with walls of green turf, and a covering of heather, which rested unconfined on crooked oak branches set together like the timbers of a roof, had, considered as a fortress, an advantageous position. In the centre of a moor, about eight miles in circuit, arose a little eminence, which not even the most rapid thaw ever placed under water, and which, to a horseman at least, was inaccessible, except along a narrow strip of land, which wound among turf-pits and gushing springs. On this spot Black Mads had raised his Arcadian abode, where, with a wife and five children, he lived by hunting. The larger game was eaten fresh, salted, or smoked; the smaller he sold under the rose, together with the deer and fox-skins, and with the money thus gained bought bread and other eatables. Milk the wife and children begged from the neighbouring peasants.
Just as the day was beginning to peep forth, the Lord of Ansbjerg approached the moor at the head of his troop. Niels gamekeeper, who was well acquainted with the country, now rode forwards, and led the entire united force in safety to the spot where the hut ought to have stood. With consternation he looked in every direction: no hut was to be seen; and yet it was already so light, that, if there, no one could avoid seeing it. The first thing he had recourse to—his usual refuge in all times of affliction and perplexity—was a long and energetic malediction. His gracious lord, who at this moment approached for the purpose of learning the cause of so cordial an outpouring, gave his keeper an equally cordial morning salutation, and maintained that he had mistaken the road and led them all astray. But Niels, who was confident on the point, assured him, and even called a dozen black angels to witness, that the hut stood there, but that Mads had most probably rendered it invisible, no doubt with the assistance of his good friend with the horse’s foot;[13] for it was beyond all doubt that he understood what the common people call “at hverre syn.” His master was just on the point of coinciding in this opinion as the most rational, when the Junker, who had ridden further forwards, cried, “Here is fire!” All now hurried to the spot; and it was soon discovered that the entire hut lay in ashes, the glowing embers of which here and there still glimmered. This discovery led Niels to the conclusion, that the aforesaid long-tailed personage had carried the poacher off, together with his whole brood; while the Junker, on the other hand, was of opinion, that Black Mads himself had set fire to the hut, and then fled. During these debates it had become broad day-light, when a closer examination of the spot was undertaken, though nothing was found but ashes, embers, charcoal, and burnt bones, which the huntsmen pronounced to be those of deer. In accordance with the Junker’s hypothesis, it was resolved to search the neighbouring heath, as the fugitive, with his family and baggage, could not possibly have reached any considerable distance. They, therefore, divided themselves into four bodies. The Junker, with his own and another servant, took an eastern direction, probably that he might be the nearer to Ansbjerg and his beloved; but all his endeavours proved fruitless. It was to no purpose that he hurried to and fro, and exhausted himself, his attendants, and his horses. Sometimes he fancied that he saw something moving in the distance, but which, on a nearer view, appeared to be sheep grazing, or a stack of turf. Once, indeed, he was certain that he perceived people about the spot on which the German church now stands; but, by degrees, the nearer they approached, the forms became more and more indistinct, until they at length wholly disappeared. Amid the preparations for this unlucky expedition, a supply of provisions—that necessary basis of heroism—had, as it sometimes happens in greater wars, been entirely forgotten. A third part of the Junker’s division was, therefore, despatched to supply the omission; but as the man, on the approach of evening, had not returned, the half-famished Junker resolved on turning his face homewards. This resolve, however, was more easily adopted than executed. The horses were as exhausted and faint as their riders. Matters, therefore, proceeded but slowly; and they were unable to wend their way out of the heath before darkness came on. The consequence was, that they lost their road, and did not reach Ansbjerg till after midnight.
To avoid retrograding in my narrative, I will just briefly mention, that the other three divisions met with a share of luck equally slender: not one of them found what they sought. In vain did they traverse every turf-moor; in vain descend into every dell, or mount every rising; in vain did they seek through all the neighbouring villages and farms—no one had seen or heard of Black Mads. Day was drawing to a close, and a night’s lodging was to be provided. The Lord of Ansbjerg himself landed on Rydhauge, whence, after two days’ successful sport in shooting heath-fowl, he returned to his home.