"Stay, Constable, I want to see what you put into that fire pot—open it"

TOLD BY THE
DEATH'S HEAD

A ROMANTIC TALE

BY
MAURUS JÓKAI

TRANSLATED BY
S. E. BOGGS

Translator of Prof. Haeckel's "India and Ceylon," Maurus Jokai's "The Nameless Castle," etc.

ILLUSTRATED

Copyright, 1902,
BY
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY

MADE BY
THE WERNER COMPANY
AKRON, OHIO

PREFACE.

In Part II, Vol. 2, of the Rhenish Antiquarius, I once came across a skull that is said—see page 612—to swing, enclosed in a metal casket, from an iron bar in the foundry of Ehrenbreitstein fortress. Distinction of this order does not fall to an ordinary mortal. Yon empty shell of human wisdom once bore the burden of no less than twenty-one mortal sins—the seven originalia trebled. Each crime is noted. The criminal confessed to the entire three-times-seven, and yet the death sentence was not passed upon him because of the twenty-one crimes. His fate was decided by the transgression of a military regulation.

What if this skull could speak? What if it could defend itself?—relate, with all the grim humor of one on the rack, the many pranks played—the mad follies committed, from the banks of the Weichsel to the delta of the Ganges!

If my highly esteemed readers will promise to give me their credulous attention, I will relate what was told to me by the death's head.

The Author.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

By Charles Hope Provost

PART I.

CHAPTER I.
THE "FIRE-POT."

The hero of our romantic narrative, or better, narratives, was a constable. Not one of that useful class appointed, in our day, to direct the vehicles which pass over the two approaches to the suspension-bridge in Budapest; rather, he was the chief of a body whose task it is to provoke disturbance, who win all the more praise and glory the greater the havoc and destruction they create. In a word: he was a gunner.

The chronicle of his exploits gives only his Christian name, which was "Hugo."

In the year 1688, when the French beleaguered Coblentz, Hugo had charge of the battery in the outermost tower of Ehrenbreitstein fortress—the "Montalembert Tower."

Coblentz and Ehrenbreitstein are opposite one another on the banks of the Rhine, as are Pesth and Ofen; and the Blocksberg looks down on us, as does the citadel of Ehrenbreitstein on Coblentz.

The city, which is strongly fortified on all sides, had become accustomed to being beleaguered—now by the French, now by the Prussians; today by the Austrians, tomorrow by the Swedes.

On the occasion of which I write, Coblentz was under a terrible fire from the French guns, which created great havoc in that portion of the city known as the "Old Town."

Specially memorable and remarkable was the manner in which the "fire-balls" seemed to know just where to find the abodes of the duke, and the commandant of the fortress. It mattered not how often they changed their quarters, the Frenchmen would always discover them, and aim accordingly—though it was impossible to see into the city from outside the walls. There certainly must have been some witch-craft at work. Hugo's Montalembert tower was on the side of the fortress most exposed to the assaults of the enemy; its successful defense, therefore, was all the more worthy of praise.

The management of ordnance in those days was not the comparatively simple matter it is today, with the Krupp and the Uchatius guns. It was a real science to fetch from the furnace a white-hot cannon-ball, ram it into the long, slender culverin, and if, after the discharge, the ball remained sticking in the throat of the gun, to remove it with the various forceps, nippers, and tongs; and, after every shot, to examine with a curious implement resembling Mercury's caducens, the interior of the culverin to learn whether the discharge had caused a rupture anywhere.

However, it is not necessary to be a great genius in order to master all the intricacies and technicalities of a gunner's trade. An ordinary man might even learn, after some practice, how to handle an "elephant;" and, if he were intrusted with the quadrant, he might also manage to discharge the heavier bombs with satisfactory result. It must be remembered, though, that a gunner needs to possess considerable skill as well as experience in order to hurl successfully against the approaching foe a "fire-shield," which discharges simultaneously from every one of its thirty-five holes as many bullets; and the "storm-tub" requires even more dexterity. This implement of warfare runs on two wheels. The axles are spiked with keen-edged knives, and the wheels are filled with gunpowder, which ignites and explodes when the machine is set in motion. If the powder ignites promptly in both wheels at the same instant, the infernal thing dashes like an infuriated bull into the ranks of the enemy, burning the eyes of some, scorching the beards of others, and hacking and slashing everything with which its revolving knives come in contact. If the powder in only one of the wheels explodes, the machine spins around on the motionless wheel like a top, and scatters an entire company; if the second wheel explodes only half a second after the first, then those who have the management of the demon will do well to take to their heels with all speed possible.

It is not necessary to explain at length the advantages of the chain-shot. Anyone will be able to understand its operation if he will but remember that, when two balls connected by a chain are discharged toward the enemy, and one of the balls strikes a man, the other ball will, naturally, circle around the unfortunate until the entire length of chain is wound tightly about him; the circling ball, meanwhile, will strike with various results: the head, the nose, the ear, or some other portion of the bodies of the soldiers within its radius. It is greatly to be regretted that the use of the "handle-ball" has been discontinued. This weapon was shaped very much like two pot-ladles, bound together at the handles by an iron ring. The man who chanced to be caught between the two ladles might congratulate himself that he escaped with nothing worse than a choking; while the two soldiers on his right and left, whose heads had been caught in the bowls of the ladles, would remember, to the end of their days, the peculiar and disagreeable sensation experienced. There were two more wonderful implements of warfare: one a German, the other a French invention. The former, which was an emanation from Hugo's brain, was called a "Bombenjungen-werfer."[1] It was a huge mortar, the central cavity capable of holding a bomb of fifty pounds weight; surrounding this cavity were eight smaller bores, each holding a five-pound bomb. The same charge hurled every one of the nine bombs in rapid succession from the mortar; and one can imagine the astonishment of the Frenchman when, after hearing but one report, the eight "babies" followed, one after the other, the mother bomb.

[1] Anglice: "Hurler of baby-bombs."

This was a diversion Hugo prepared for the beleaguerers, who in return invented an amusement for him. It was a "fire-pot," was shaped exactly like the earthen water-jug the Hungarian reaper carries with him to the harvest field to preserve his drinking-water fresh and cool. The machine was made of iron, and filled with a diabolical mixture. It had four spouts—precisely like our water-jug—from which the fire would hiss and sputter; it was intended to set fire to everything combustible where it fell.

The Germans also had what are called "fire-balls," which hiss and spit, and set fire to everything about them; and other bombs which explode the moment they touch the earth. The French fire-pot, however, combined these two properties: it set fire first, and exploded afterward.

The beleaguered understood very well how to manage a fire-ball. Like Helene Zrinyi, the heroine who defended the fortress of Munkács, the Germans had learned, so soon as a fire-ball fell inside the walls, to cover it with a wet bullock's-hide, which would at once smother the fire-spitting monster, and render it harmless.

But the fire-pot was not to be treated so summarily. If the Germans attempted to smother the fire-demon, to prevent the air from reaching his four noses, he would burst, and woe to him who chanced to be in the way of the flying splinters! He, at least, would have no further desire to sport with a fire-pot.

It happened one day that a fire-pot, which had fallen inside the fortress, did not explode after it had hissed and spit out its fury. When it became cool enough it was taken to Hugo.

"Now I shall find out what is inside this dangerous missile," remarked the constable; "then I'll make some like it and send them to our friends over yonder."

Over the neck of the fire-pot was a sort of hat, shaped like those covering the necks of the Hungarian wooden bottles (esutora). This hat, of course, could be removed. After this discovery Hugo invited the commandant, the grand-duke, the governor and mayor of the city, the syndic, and the duke's alchemist to be present at the opening of the fire-pot.

Now each one of the invited said to himself: "It will be enough if the others are there—why should I go? The infernal machine may explode when they are opening it."

And so they all stopped bravely at home and Hugo alone found out what was in the fire-pot.

After it was opened, and Hugo had convinced himself of the nature of the diabolical compound it contained, he proceeded to cast several fire-pots like the French one; and, in the presence of the commandant and the grand-duke, shot them into the enemy's camp. The two distinguished gentlemen, who were peering through their telescopes, were highly delighted when they saw the bombs, which flew through the air like dragons with tails of fire, reach the points at which they had been aimed, ignite everything inflammable, and afterward explode. Now and again it would happen that one of Hugo's fire-pots would fail to explode in the Frenchmen's camp, just as theirs would sometimes fail to do what was expected of them. But Hugo always collected the enemy's unexploded bombs, and, after opening and refilling them with fresh explosives, would hurl them back whence they came.

Oh, I tell you war was conducted in those good old days on economical lines!

As late even as the year 1809 Napoleon had his men collect 28,000 of the enemy's cannon-balls on the battle-field of Wagram, and shot them back at the Austrians; and had the fight continued two days longer, the opposing armies would have ricocheted the same balls back and forth so long as the cannonading made it necessary.

The grand-duke, as was proper, rewarded the constable for his discovery by an increase of pay—from sixteen to twenty thalers a month; and in addition made him a present of a barrel of strong beer, which gave offence to the commandant, who was obliged to quench his thirst with a weaker brew.

Hugo had many enviers, but none of them ventured to pick a quarrel with him. He had the frame of an athlete; his face, with its luxuriant red-beard, resembled that of a lion. He was always in a good humor; no one had ever seen Hugo angry, embarrassed, or frightened. There were no traces of trouble and grief on his countenance. He was perhaps forty years of age, was somewhat disfigured by small-pox pits, but wherever there was a pretty girl or woman to be won, Hugo was sure to attract her. He was fond of good living—liked everything to be of the best, consequently his money never remained long in his pockets.

The constable's epicurean tastes irritated the mayor, who, as chief of the city militia, outranked the artillerist. But Hugo managed on all occasions to out-do his superior officer. Rieke, the trim little suttler-wife, would slap the militia captain's fingers if he ventured to give her a chin-chuck, but a hearty hug from the smiling constable never met with a repulse. In consequence of the siege prices for the necessaries, as well as for the luxuries of life, had become exorbitant in both cities. Three thalers was the unheard-of price asked at market for a fat goose. The mayor's wife haggled for a long time about the price without success, when along came pretty Rieke.

"How much for your goose?" she asked.

"Three thalers."

"I'll take it."

She paid the money and marched away with the goose.

By some means the mayor learned that Hugo had a baked fat goose for his dinner.

"Look here, constable," he said next day to the artillerist, "how comes it that you can afford to feast on fat goose while I, the mayor, and your superior officer, must content myself with lean herring, cheese and bread? Your pay is only twenty thalers a month; mine is three florins a day. Pray tell me how you manage it?"

To which Hugo made answer:

"Well, mayor, if I wanted to deceive you, I should say that the money for all the good things I enjoy does not come from my pocket; that Rieke, who is infatuated with me (how I managed that part of the business I shouldn't tell you), supplies me with whatever I want. But I'll be honest with you and tell you the truth—but pray don't betray my secret, for I don't want to have anything to do with the priests. What I tell you is in strictest confidence and must not go any farther: I have a magic thaler, one of those coins, vulgarly called a 'breeding-penny,' that always returns to my pocket no matter how often I may spend it—"

"You don't say so! And how came you by such a coin, constable?"

"I'll tell you that, too, mayor, only be careful not to let the Capuchins hear of it. I got the thaler in the Hochstatt marshes, from a bocksritter—"[2]

[2] Satyr.

"I hope you didn't bond your soul to him for it?" interrupted the mayor.

"Not I. I outwitted the devil by giving the ritter an ignorant Jew lad in my stead."

"You must keep that transaction a secret," cautioned the mayor; then he hastened to repeat what he had heard to the grand-duke.

"Would to heaven every thaler I possess were a breeding-penny!" exclaimed the high-born gentleman. "It would make the carrying on a war an easy matter."

From the day it became known that Constable Hugo possessed that never-failing treasure, a magic coin, and was in league with the all-powerful bocksritter, he rose in the esteem of his fellows.

Meanwhile Ehrenbreitstein and Coblentz continued under bombardment from the Frenchmen. The enemy's fire-pots never failed to find the grand-duke's quarters, notwithstanding the fact that he changed them every day. This at last became so annoying that treason began to be suspected, and the duke offered a reward for the detection of the spy who gave the information to the enemy. That a spy was at work in the German camp was beyond question, though the outlets of both cities were so closely guarded that it would have been impossible for a living mortal to pass through them. Nor could the treason have been committed by means of carrier-pigeons, for, whatever of domestic fowl-kind had been in the cities had long since been devoured by the hungry citizens. The mayor, ever on the alert for transgressors, had his suspicions as to who might be the spy. Every man but one in the beleaguered cities fasted, lamented, prayed, cursed, wept, as the case might be, save this one man, who remained constantly cheerful, smiling, well-fed.

When one of the Frenchmen's fiery monsters came hissing and spitting into the fortress this one man, instead of taking to his heels and seeking the shelter of a cellar, as did the rest of his comrades, would coolly wait until the fire-pot fell to the ground, and, if it failed to burst he would dig it out of the earth into which it had bored itself and carry it to the foundry.

Surely this was more than foolhardiness!

The constable always opened the enemy's unexploded fire-pots in his subterranean work-room; refilled them there, then hurled them back without delay. There was something more than amusement behind this.

One day, when Hugo came up from his subterranean workroom, he encountered the mayor, who said to him:

"Stay, constable, I want to see what you put into that fire-pot—open it."

Without a moment's hesitation Hugo unscrewed the lid and revealed the explosives wrapped in coarse linen; at the same time he explained how much gunpowder, hazel-wood charcoal, sulphur, resin, pitch, sal-ammoniac, borax and acetate of lead were necessary to make up the amount of unquenchable fire required for the bomb.

"Very good," quoth the city functionary, "but what beside these is there in the bottom of the pot?"

"Under this earthen plate, your honor, is more gunpowder. When the explosives on top are burnt out this plate, which has become red-hot, explodes the powder and bursts the bomb—that is the whole secret of the infernal machine."

"I should like to see what is under the earthen plate."

As the mayor spoke these words the constable gave a sudden glance over his shoulder. In the glance was expressed all the temerity of the adventurer, mingled with rage, determination and alarm. But only for an instant. The mayor's bailiffs surrounded him, closing every avenue of escape. Then he burst into a loud laugh, shrugged his shoulders, and said:

"Very well, your honor, see for yourself what is under the earthen plate."

The mayor forced open with the blade of his pocket-knife the earthen plate. There was no powder in the bottom of the bomb, only some ordinary sand; but in it was concealed a folded paper that contained a minute description of the situation in the German camp.

"Bind him in chains!" exclaimed the mayor in a triumphant voice. "At last we have the proofs of your treachery, knave! I'll give you a pretty Rieke! I'll serve up a fat goose for you!"

Hugo continued to laugh while the bailiffs were placing the fetters on his hands and feet.

As if to complete the evidence against him, there came hissing at that moment a fire-pot from the French camp. When it was opened and the earthen plate removed it was found to contain two hundred Albert thalers!

CHAPTER II.
THE TRIAL.

The hand with the two lines under it signifies, in the court records (for the sake of brevity), that at this point in the trial, the chief of the tribunal gave the signal to the executioner for another turn of the wheel. When this had been done, the notary would take down the confession until the prisoner on the rack would cry out:

"Have mercy!—compassion!"

The prince was seated at a separate table, on a black-draped throne-like arm-chair with a canopy.

The mayor occupied the inquisitor's chair.

First question addressed to the accused:

"What is your name?"

"My name, in Podolia, is 'Jaroslav Tergusko;' in Zbarasz it is 'Zdenko Kohaninsky;' in Odessa it is 'Frater Hilarius;' in Hamburg, 'Elias Junker;' in Münster it is 'William Stramm;' in Amsterdam, 'Mynheer Tobias van der Bullen;' in Singapore, 'Maharajah Kong;' on the high seas, 'Captain Rouge;' in The Hague, it is 'Ritter Malchus;' in Lille, 'Chevalier de Mont Olympe;' in Pfalz, 'Doctor Sarepta;' here, I am called 'Hugo von Habernik.'

"Have you any more names?" inquired the chair.

At this question everybody began to laugh—the prince, the judges, the prisoner, even the skull on the table. The chair alone remained grim and dignified.

"I can't remember any more of my names," was the prisoner's reply.

SECOND QUESTION:

"What is your religion?"

"I was born an Augsburg Confession heretic. When I went to Cracow I became a Socinian; in the Ukraine I joined the Greek church; afterward I became an orthodox Catholic; later, a Rosicrucian; then a Quaker. I have also professed the faith of Brahma; and once I was a member of the community of Atheists and devil-worshipping Manichees, called also Cainists."

"A fine array, truly!" commented the chair, as the notary entered the list in the register.

THIRD QUESTION:

"What is your occupation, prisoner?"

"I have been ensign; prisoner; slave; robber-chief; parasite; ducal grand-steward; mendicant friar; recruiting sergeant; sacristan; knight; shell-fish dealer; stock-jobber; ship-captain; viceroy; pirate; teacher; knacker's assistant; conjuror; bocksritter; hangman; pikeman; quack-doctor; prophet; constable—"

"Stop! Stop!" interrupted the chair. "The notary cannot keep up with you."

Again the court-room resounded with laughter; the prisoner on the rack, as well as the skull on the table, again joined in the merriment. Everybody seemed in a good humor—that is, everybody but the mayor. He alone was grave.

After the signal to the executioner the fourth question followed:

"Of what crimes are you guilty?"

(For the purpose of greater perspicuity the chair dictated to the recording secretary the Latin nomenclature of the crimes confessed.)

Prisoners: "I was a member of a band of robbers and incendiaries."

"Primo, latrocinium," dictated the chair.

Prisoner: "I won the affections of my benefactor's wife."

Chair: "Secundo, adulterium."

Prisoner: "I robbed a church."

Chair: "Tertio, sacrilegium."

Prisoner: "I masqueraded as a nobleman under a false name."

Chair: "Quarto, larvatus."

Prisoner: "I committed a forgery."

Chair: "Quinto, falsorium."

Prisoner: "I killed my friend in a duel."

Chair: "Sexto, homicidium ex duello."

Prisoner: "I cheated my partners in business."

Chair: "Septimo, stellionatus."

Prisoner: "I betrayed state secrets confided to me."

Chair: "Octavo, felonia."

Prisoner: "I used for my own purpose money belonging to others."

Chair: "Nono, barattaria."

Prisoner: "I worshipped idols."

Chair: "Decimo, idololatria."

Prisoner: "I married a second wife while the first was still living."

Chair: "Undecimo, bigamia."

Prisoner: "I also took a third, fourth, fifth and sixth wife."

Chair: "Eodem numero trigamia, polygamia."

Prisoner: "I murdered a king."

Chair: "Decimo secundo, regicidium."

Prisoner: "I have been a pirate."

Chair: "Decimo tertia, pirateria."

Prisoner: "I killed my first wife."

Chair: "Decimo quarto, uxoricidium."

Prisoner: "I practiced conjuring."

Chair: "Decimo quinto, sorcellaria."

Prisoner: "I have been in league with Satan."

Chair: "Decimo sexto, pactum diabolicum implicitum."

Prisoner: "I have coined base money."

Chair: "Decimo septimo, adulterator monetarium."

Prisoner: "I preached a new faith."

Chair: "Decimo octavo, hæresis schisma."

Prisoner: "I have been a quack doctor."

Chair: "Decimo nono, veneficus."

Prisoner: "I betrayed a fortress intrusted to my guardianship."

Chair: "Vigesimo, crimen traditorum."

Prisoner: "I have eaten human flesh."

Chair: "Vigesimo primo, anthropophagia. Cannibalismus!" cried the mayor in a loud tone, bringing his fist with considerable force down on the pandects lying before him on the table. The perspiration was rolling in great beads over his forehead.

The prisoner on the rack laughed heartily; but this time no one laughed with him. The executioner had mistaken the chief's wink for a signal to turn the wheel, which he did, and the sound which came from the victim's throat was a strange mixture of merriment and agony—as if he were being tickled and strangled at the same moment.

What the chief's dictation was really intended to signify was that the proceedings were concluded for the day; that the accused should be released from the rack and taken back to his dungeon.

It was a most unusual case—unique in the annals of the criminal court. Never before had a prisoner acknowledged himself guilty of, or accessory to, so many crimes. It was the first time such a combination of misdemeanors had come before the tribunal. The accused would certainly have to be tried without mercy; no extenuating circumstances would be allowed to interfere with justice.

The prince was extremely interested in the case. He was curious to learn the coherence between the individual transgressions, in what manner one led to the other, and gave orders that the trial should not be resumed the next day until he should arrive in court.

The prisoner had cause for laughter. Before his confession reached its conclusion, before he could relate the history of his one-and-twenty crimes, the Frenchmen would capture Coblentz and release him from imprisonment and death.

But one may laugh too soon!

What was to be done with this fellow?

That the death penalty was his just desert was unquestionable; but in what manner should it be imposed? Had he confessed only the crime for which he was now under arrest—treason—the matter might be settled easily enough: he would be shot in the back. But with so many transgressions to complicate the matter it was going to be difficult exceedingly to pronounce judgment.

For instance: the wheel is the punishment for robbery; the polygamist must be divided into as many portions as he has wives; the regicide must be torn asunder by four horses. But how are you going to carry out the last penalty if the accused has already been carved into six portions? Also, it is decreed that the right hand of a forger be cut off; the servitor of Satan must suffer death by fire. But if the accused has been consumed by flames, how will it be possible to bray him to pulp in a mortar for having committed uxoricide? or, how carry out the commands of the law which prescribes death by starvation for the wretch who is guilty of cannibalism?

After much deliberation the prince, with the wisdom of a Solomon, decided as follows:

"The prisoner, who is arraigned at the bar for treason, having confessed to twenty-one other transgressions, shall relate to the court a detailed account of each individual crime, after which he shall be sentenced according to the crime or crimes found by the judges to be the most heinous."

This decision was perfectly satisfactory to the mayor; and the judges gave it as their opinion that, as the accused would require all his strength for so prolonged an examination, it would be advisable to substitute the torture by water for that of the rack, as was first decided.

"No! no!" objected the prince. "The man who is forced to drink nothing but water is not in the mood to relate adventures (I know that by experience!) Let the prisoner be subjected to mental torture. Sentence him at once to death, and when he is not before the tribunal let him be shut up in the death-cell. The hours spent in that gloomy hole are a torture sufficient to bring any criminal, however hardened he may have become, to repentance. Besides, it will be a saving of expense to the city. The curious citizens, who like to gape at a condemned prisoner, will, out of compassion, supply this one also with food and drink. When he has eaten and drunk his fill, we will have him brought to the court-room. The man who has had all he wants to eat and drink is talkative!"

The judges concurred with his highness; but the mayor growled in a dissatisfied tone:

"This knave, who confesses to having committed twenty-one crimes in addition to the treachery in which we detected him, will, by the decision of his highness, fare better than his judges, who have learned during the siege what it is to hunger and thirst."

To which the syndic responded consolingly:

"Never mind, god-father! Let the poor wretch gormandize between the rack and the gallows. Remember the old saw: 'Today, I—tomorrow, you.'"

PART II.

CHAPTER I.
WITH THE ROBBERS—THE PRSJAKA CAVES.

I was ensign in a regiment under command of General Melchior Hatzfeld of the imperial forces. (Thus Hugo began his confession the next day when he had been brought to the court-room from the death-cell.) My conduct at that time was exemplary; I acquired so much skill in handling fire-arms that, at the siege of Cracow, I was advanced to the position of chief gunner of a battery.

Cracow at that time was in the hands of George Rákóczy, prince of Transylvania, who had leagued with Sweden to subdue Poland; and he would most likely have succeeded had not the imperial army come to the assistance of the Poles.

I shall not dwell long on the siege of Cracow lest I awake in the minds of the honorable gentlemen of the court a suspicion that, by relating incidents not immediately connected with my transgressions, I am purposely prolonging my recital. I shall therefore speak only of those occurrences which it will be necessary to mention in order to explain why I committed the crimes of which I am guilty. While with the army before Cracow I made the acquaintance of the daughter of a Polish noble. The young lady, who took a great fancy to me—I wasn't a bad-looking youth in those days, your honors—was a charming creature of sixteen years, with the most beautiful black eyes. If I remember rightly her name was Marinka. She taught me how to speak her language—and something else, too: how to love—the fatal passion which has all my life been the cause of much of my trouble.

During the siege my general frequently sent me to reconnoiter among the Hungarian camps; and as I was a fearless youth, I would venture to the very gates of the manor-houses in the neighborhood of Cracow. At one of these houses I met my sweetheart; and after that, you may guess, honored sirs, that it was not for the general's "yellow boys" alone I risked my neck night after night. No, my little Marinka's sparkling eyes were as alluring as the gold pieces; and I knew when I set out on my nightly tour that my sweetheart would be waiting for me at the gates of her father's place. But our secret meetings were at last discovered. There was an old witch of a housekeeper who ferreted out her young mistress' secret, and informed the old noble. One moonlight night Marinka was teaching me in her own little cozy chamber how to say: "Kocham pana z calego zersa"—which is "Mistress, I love you with my whole heart,"—when we heard her father's heavy footsteps ascending the staircase. I tell you I was frightened and said to myself, "This is the end of you, my lad!" but Marinka whispered in my ear:

"Nebojsa! (don't be afraid), go into the corridor, walk boldly toward my father, and to whatever he may say to you, do you reply 'God is One.'"

Then she softly opened the door, pushed me into the corridor, closed and locked the door behind me. The old gentleman was coming up the stairs very slowly because of a lame leg which he had to drag after him step by step. He had a square red face which I could see only indistinctly above the burning lunt he carried in one hand, blowing it continually to prevent it from going out. In the other hand he held a musket. The blazing lunt must have blinded him, for he did not see me until the muzzle of the musket came in contact with my breast. Then he stopped and cried in a stern voice:

"Kto tam? Stoj!" (Who are you? Stand!)

"God is One," I made answer. What else could I have said? The old gentleman's aggressive mien changed at once. He became quite friendly; he extinguished the lunt by stamping on it with his foot, tapped my shoulder in a confidential manner and called me little brother. Then taking me by the arm he led me down the stairs to a room where a huge fire was blazing on the hearth. Here he bade me seat myself on a settee covered with a bear skin and placed before me an English flagon of spirits. After he had arranged everything for my comfort he fetched from a secret cupboard a small book—it was so small I could have hidden it in the leg of my boot—and began to read to me all manner of heretical phrases such as "There is no need for a Holy Trinity, because the little which is done on earth in the name of God can easily be done by One alone."

My hair stood on end as I listened to the sinful words and I found what a trap I had fallen into. My Marinka's father was a Socinian, a leader of the heretical sect, and he was trying to make a proselyte of me.

The doctrines of Blandrata had spread extensively throughout Poland, but, owing to the persecution of its adherents, they could meet and work only in secret. The old noble's manor was one of their retreats, where recent converts were received for instruction. When the old gentleman believed he had enlightened me sufficiently he produced a heavy volume, bade me lay my right hand on it and repeat after him the vows of the society.

You may believe I was in a dilemma!

If I refused to repeat the vows I should have to confess that I had come to the manor for Marinka's sake, then the old noble would fetch his musket and send me straightway to paradise. If, on the other hand, I repeated the vows, then I was sure to journey to hades. Which was I to choose?

Should I elect to travel by extra-post, direct, without stopping, into the kingdom of heaven, or should I journey leisurely by a circuitous route, with frequent halts, to hades?

I was a mere lad; I was sorry for my pretty curly head—I chose the latter alternative!

From that time I became a daily visitor in the retreat of the followers of Socinus. Being a neophyte I was permitted to take part in their meetings only during the singing; when the sermon began I was sent to the gates to guard against a surprise. This was a welcome duty; for, once outside the house, all thought of taking up my station at the gates would leave me and, instead, I would climb the tree which grew close to my Marinka's window, swing myself by a branch into her room, in which she was kept a prisoner by her father to prevent our meeting; and there, while the sages below-stairs expounded the dogma of the unity of God, we two ignorant young people demonstrated how two human hearts can become as one.

One day our little community received an unexpected addition to its membership. There arrived from Cracow a troop of Hungarian soldiers who announced themselves as followers of Socinus. They received a hospitable welcome from the old noble, whom they overwhelmed with joy by telling him the prince of Transylvania had become an adherent of Socinus; that his highness had averred that, were he the King of Poland, all persecution of the heretics should cease at once and that some of the churches should be given over to them for their worship.

When I repeated this piece of news to my general he became so excited he sprang from his seat—his head almost struck the roof of the tent—and shouted: "It is perfectly outrageous how those Hungarians will stoop to base methods in order to win allies! If they succeed in inveigling the Polish Socinians to their ranks then we may as well stop trying to get them out of Poland!"

Fortunately, however, there arose dissensions between the Hungarian and the Polish adherents of Socinus. I must mention here, in order to explain how I became cognizant of the facts I am about to relate, that Marinka's father had begun to suspect me. Instead of sending me to stand guard at the gates when the sermon began, I was permitted to hear it and take part in the disputations.

The Hungarian troopers maintained that it was the duty of all pious Socinians to commemorate, at every one of their meetings, the death of the Savior by drinking wine; and they were so extremely devout that an entire quarter-cask of their host's best Tokay was emptied at every celebration. After the meetings, when the old noble would lift and shake the empty wine-cask, I could read in his countenance signs that heterodoxy was gradually taking root in him. At first he contented himself with remonstrating against the frequency of the celebration; surely it ought to satisfy the most devout member of the sect to observe the ceremony on Sundays, and holy days. But the troopers met his arguments with scriptural authority for their practices.

Then the old gentleman, finding his remonstrances of no avail, made an assault upon the dogma itself. He delivered an impassioned address in which he sought to disprove the divinity of Jesus. To this blasphemous assertion the Magyars made reply:

"If what you say be true, then He was the son of an honest man, and a good man Himself. Therefore, it is meet and right for us to show Him all honor and respect." And another quarter-cask was brought from the cellar. The old noble became daily more fanatical in his assaults upon the tenets to which he had so devoutly adhered before the accession to his little congregation of the Hungarian troopers; and, at last declared that Jesus was a Jew; that He deserved to be put to death, because He had promulgated the unjust law of taxation. But not even this fearful blasphemy deterred the Hungarians from their frequent celebrations. They said:

"If the Nazarene is so unworthy, then it is our plain duty to shed His blood, the symbol of which is wine—"

"Tremendously clever fellows, those Magyars!" here interrupted the prince.

"They were impious devils!" exclaimed the mayor reprovingly. "Impious devils!"

"Habet rectum," responded his highness. Then to the prisoner: "Continue, my son."

Hugo resumed his confession:

When the last cask was brought from the cellar the old noble declared to his congregation that the entire story of the Divine birth was a myth invented by the priests—

"And you took part in those blasphemous meetings?" sternly interrupted the mayor.

No, indeed, your honor! That is a crime of which I am guiltless. I never said one word; and escaped from the meetings whenever I could manage to do so. I had determined to flee with Marinka from the sinful community. Our plan was: I was to steal from the meeting on a certain night, assist my pretty Marinka to descend from her room by means of the tree outside her window and then set fire to the sheep-stables. The conflagration would scatter the blasphemers; everybody would run to the stables to release the horses, and in the general confusion Marinka would hastily secure as many of the family jewels as could be packed into a portmanteau. Then she and I would mount two of the freed horses and gallop straightway to my camp, where I would introduce her as my wife—

"A pious idea, certainly," commented the prince.

"How can your highness say so!" in a tone of reproof, exclaimed the mayor. "It was incendiarism pure and simple: Incendiarii ambitiosi comburantur; and further: raptus decem juvencis puniatur, and rapina palu affigatur."

"Very well, then," assented his highness. "My son, for the incendiarism you shall be burned at the stake; for the rape of the maid you shall pay a fine of ten calves; for the theft of the jewels, the punishment is impalement. Continue."

Unfortunately, resumed the prisoner, our plans miscarried, through the intermeddling of the old housekeeper I spoke of. Her suspicions had been aroused by Marinka's preparations for flight; she informed the old noble, who set spies to watch me. I was caught in the act of firing the stables and was flogged with hazel rods until I confessed that I was a spy from the enemy's camp. The old noble wanted to bind me to the well-sweep; but one of the Hungarian troopers took compassion on me and offered to buy me for sixteen Polish groschen. His offer was accepted; I was sold to him and taken to Cracow. I should not have had such a hard time as a slave had I not been compelled to grind all the pepper used in the Hungarian army. I ground enormous quantities, for the Magyars like all their food strongly seasoned with the condiment. My eyes were red constantly; my nose was swollen to the size of a cucumber. The only other complaint I had to make was that my master compelled me to eat everything that was set before me. He would say, when he placed before me enough for three men:

"You shall not be able to say that you hungered while you were my slave."

When I had eaten until I could not swallow another morsel, my master would seize me by the shoulders, shake me as one shakes a full bag in order to get more into it, and he would repeat the operation until the contents of every dish had been emptied into me. I used to sicken at the approach of meal-times, and whenever I saw the huge spoon—twice the size of my mouth—with which the food was ladled into me. Your honors will hardly believe that there is no greater torture than to be stuffed with food—

"We have never tried that method," remarked the prince.

"Nor are we likely to test it very soon," supplemented the mayor, with a grim expression on his countenance.

I yearned to be released from my unpleasant situation, resumed the prisoner. For the first time I realized the enormity of the transgression I had committed in joining the Socinian Community. Now I had no one to intercede for me with the Supreme Ruler of the earth. Had I become a Mussulman I should have had Mohammed; had I adopted the Jewish faith I should have been able to call to my aid Abraham, or some one of the other fathers in Israel. But I had no one. However, my desire to be released from the tortures of food-stuffing and pepper-grinding was at last fulfilled; I was captured, together with the entire Hungarian army, by the Tartars—

"Hold! hold!" interrupted the chair. "You must not tell untruths. You forget that you were in Poland. The Tartars could not have fallen from the sky."

I was about to explain how they came to be at Cracow when your honor interrupted me. It was this way: His Majesty, the Sultan of Turkey, who had become angry because his vassal, George Rákóczy, prince of Transylvania, had presumed to aspire to the crown of Poland, had commanded the khan of Crim-Tartary to attack the Hungarians with 100,000 cavalry. The khan obeyed. He devastated Transylvania in his march, surrounded the Hungarian army in Poland and captured every man jack of them—

"The explanation is satisfactory," enunciated the prince. "It was easy enough for the Tartars to appear at Cracow."

Yes, your highness; but I wish they hadn't, continued the accused. No one regretted it more bitterly than did I. After the capture of the Transylvanian army by the Tartars the victors divided the spoils as follows: The commanding officers took possession of all the valuables; the under-officers took the prisoners' horses; the captives themselves were sold to the common soldiers, each of whom bought as many slaves as he had money to spare.

My former master was sold for five groschen; my broad shoulders brought a higher price—nine groschen. The same Tartar—an ugly, filthy little rascal for whom I would not have paid two groschen—bought my master and me.

The first thing our Tartar master did was to strip us of our good clothes and put on us his own rags. He couldn't talk to us, as we did not understand his language; but he managed in a very clever manner to convey his meaning to us. He examined the material of which our shirts were made—the Hungarian's was of fine, mine of coarse homespun linen, and concluded that one of us was a man of means—the other a poor devil.

Then he took from his purse a gold coin, held it in his open palm toward the Hungarian, while with the other hand he hung a rope of horse-hair around his captive's neck. Then he closed his fingers over the coin, opened them again, at the same time drawing the rope more tightly about the captive's neck.

This pantomime signified: "How many coins like this gold one will your friends pay to ransom you?"

The Hungarian closed and opened his fist ten times to indicate "one hundred."

The Tartar brought his teeth together, which was meant to say, "not enough."

Then the Hungarian indicated as before, "two hundred," whereupon the Tartar placed the end of the rope in the captive's hand—he was satisfied with the ransom. Then came my turn. How much ransom would be paid for me? I shook my head to indicate "nothing;" but in Tartary, to shake one's head means consent. The little fellow smiled, and wanted to know "how much?"

Not knowing how else to express my meaning, I spat in his palm, which he understood. He put the gold coin back into his purse, took out a silver one and held it toward me. I treated it as I had the gold coin. Then he produced a copper coin; but I indicated with such emphasis that not even so small a sum would be paid for me that he raised his whip and gave me a sound cut over the shoulders. The Tartars then set out on their return to Tartary. My former master and I were bound together and driven on foot in front of our owner.

How forcibly my sainted grandmother's words, "He that reviles his Savior will be turned into an ass," came home to me when I was given dried beans to eat—the sort we feed to asses at home. Dried beans every meal, and my Tartar master did not think it necessary to stuff into me what I could not eat. What were left at one meal were served up again the next. Still more forcibly were my grandam's words impressed on my mind when, the fifth day of our journey, I became a veritable beast of burden. My Hungarian yoke-fellow declared his feet were so sore he could go no farther. His was certainly a weighty body to drag over the rough roads, especially as he had never been accustomed to travel on foot per pedes apostolorum. The little Tartar became alarmed; he feared he might lose the ransom if he left his rich captive behind, so he alighted from his horse, examined the Hungarian's feet and ordered him to get into the saddle. Then my feet were examined, and I imagined I too was to be given a mount. But I was mistaken. Before I could guess what he intended the little Tartar was seated astride my shoulders, with his feet crossed over my breast, and his hands clutching my hair for reins.

Luckily for me it was a lean little snips, not much heavier than the soldier's knapsack I was accustomed to carrying. It would have been worse had the Hungarian been saddled on my shoulders. That gentleman was greatly amused by the turn affairs had taken, and from his seat on our master's horse made all manner of fun of me.

He ridiculed my prayers, said they were of no avail where the enemy was concerned; that a hearty curse would give me more relief. I tell you he was a master of malediction! There was an imprecation he used to repeat so often that I remember it to this hour. I will repeat it for you—it is in that fearful Magyar lingo: "Tarka kutya tarka magasra kutyorodott kaeskaringós farka!"[3]

[3] The imprecation is really quite harmless, as are many other of the dreadful things attributed to the Magyars. It is, literally: "The spotted dog's straight upright spotted tail."—Translator's observation.

"Hold!" commanded the prince. "That sounds like an incantation."

"Like 'abraxas,' or 'ablanathanalba,'" added the mayor, shuddering. "We must make a note of it; the court astronomer may, with the assistance of the professors, be able to tell us its portent."

When the notary had taken down the imprecation, his highness, the prince, said to the prisoner:

"Continue, my son. How long were you compelled to remain in that deplorable condition of slavery?"

One day, resumed the accused, while I was fervently praying that heaven, or Satan, would relieve me from my ignominious situation, we turned into an oak forest. We had hardly got well into it, when, with a fearful noise, as if heaven and earth were crashing together, the huge trees came toppling over on us, burying the entire vanguard of the Tartar horde, together with their captives, under the trunks and branches.

Every one of the trees in the forest had been sawn clear through the trunk, but left standing upright, thus forming a horrible trap for the Tartars. The first tree that toppled over, of course, threw over the one against which it fell, that one in turn throwing over the next one, and so on until the entire wood was laid low.

My Tartar rider and I were crushed to the earth by the same tree. It was fortunate for me that I had him on my back, for he received the full force of the falling tree; his head was crushed, while mine was so firmly wedged between his knees I couldn't move. The horrible noise and confusion robbed me of my senses; I became unconscious. It is, therefore, impossible for me to tell how I escaped with my life. I only know that when I came to my senses I found myself in the camp of the "Haidemaken," a company of thieves and murderers, made up of all nationalities, the worst of all the robber bands that infested the country. The members were the outcasts of every land—the flower of the gallows. When inflamed with wine, they fought each other with axes; settled all disputes with knife and club. He who had become notorious for the worst crimes was welcomed to their ranks; the boldest, the most reckless dare-devil, became their leader. They would release condemned criminals, often appearing as if sprung from the earth at the place of execution, bear away the miscreants, who, naturally, became members of the band.

Was a pretty woman condemned to the stake for violation of the marriage vow or for witchcraft, the haidemaken would be on hand before the match was applied to the faggots, and bear away the fair culprit. In a word, the haidemaken were the hope, the comfort, the providence of every miscreant that trembled in shackles.

The band claimed no country as fatherland. Every wilderness, every savage ravine, from the Matra mountains to the Volga, offered them a secure retreat. They knew no laws save the commands of their leader, which were obeyed to the letter. None kept for himself his stealings; all booty was delivered into the hands of the leader, who divided it equally among the members of the band.

To him who, through special valor, deserved special reward, was given the prettiest woman rescued from the stake, the dungeon, the rack.

Where the haidemaken set up their camp, the Roman king, the prince of Transylvania, the Wallachian woiwode, the king of Poland, the hetman of the Cossacks, ruled only in name. The leader of the robbers alone was the law-giver; he alone levied taxes, exacted duties.

The trading caravans passing from Turkey to Warsaw, if they were wise, paid without a murmur the duty levied by the haidemaken, who would then give the traders safe conduct through all the dangerous forests, over suspicious mountain passes, so that not a hair of their heads would be hurt or a coin in their purses touched.

If, on the other hand, the caravan leaders were unwise, they would employ a military escort. Then, woe to them! The robbers would lure them into ambush, scatter the soldiers and plunder the caravan. He who resisted would be put to death.

There was constant war between certain nobles and the robbers. If the band, however, could be brought to seal a compact of peace with an individual or a community, it was kept sacred, inviolable, as we shall see later.

The haidemaken never entered a church unless they desired to secure the treasures it contained. Yet, they numbered several priests among their ranks. They were such as had been excommunicated for some transgression.

The band never set out on a predatory expedition without first celebrating mass, and receiving a blessing from one of these renegados. If the expedition proved to be successful, the priest would share the spoils, and dance with the robbers to celebrate the victory.

When one of the band took unto himself a wife, a renegado would perform the marriage ceremony. The haidemaken were as great sticklers for form as are the members of good society. To abduct a maid, or a woman, was not considered a crime; but for one member to run away with the wife of another was strictly prohibited.

They did not erect strongholds, for they knew where to hide in mountain caverns and in morasses, from which no human power could drive them.

In their various retreats they had stores of food, enough to stand a siege for many months. How great was their daring is best illustrated by the plot which threw me into their power. The prince of Transylvania had invaded Poland with an army of 20,000 men. This army was captured by the Tartar khan with his 80,000 men. Four hundred of the robbers laid in wait for this combined force, and slaughtered the vanguard of 2,000 men in the oak forest, as I have described.

When I opened my eyes after the catastrophe, I was lying on a bundle of faggots on the bank of a purling brook. By my side stood a gigantic fellow, with a hideous red face—compared to him the Herr Mayor, there, is a very St. Martin!—his beard and eyebrows were also red, but of a lighter shade. His nose was cleft lengthwise—a sign that he had had to do with the Russian administration of justice. He had the muscles of a St. Christopher.

At a little distance apart stood a group of similar figures, but none was so repulsive in appearance as the giant by my side. He was leaning on his sword, looking down at me, and when he saw my eyes open he said, or rather bellowed, for his voice was more like the sound that comes from the throat of a bull:

"Well, young fellow, are you alive? Can you get up on your knees? If so, swear that you will join our band, or I'll fling you out yonder whence I brought you, to perish with the rest of your comrades."

I had heard many fearful tales of the dreaded haidemaken, and knew them to be capable of any atrocity. Moreover, I was indifferent as to what became of me, so I said I would join the band if my life were spared.

"What are you?" then asked the red one, who was the leader of the band, "peasant or noble?"

I was not lying when I answered that I was as poor a devil as ever caught flies to satisfy a craving for food.

"That is well," returned the leader, "we have no use for nobles in our ranks. You shall stand the test at once." He blew a whistle, and two sturdy ruffians dragged from a cave nearby the loveliest maid I had ever set eyes on. Her complexion was of milk and roses; every virtue beamed in her gentle countenance. I can see her now, with her golden hair falling to her ankles—and she was very tall for a woman.

"Now lad," continued the leader, "we shall see how you stand the test. You are to cut off this maid's head. She is the daughter of a noble, whom we stole for a ransom; and, as her people have seen fit to ignore our demands, she must die. Here, take this sword, and do as you are bid."

He handed me his sword, which was so heavy I could lift it only by grasping it with both hands.

The maid knelt in the grass at my feet, bent meekly forward, and parted her beautiful hair at the back of her snowy neck, so that I might the more easily strike the fatal blow.

But I didn't do anything of the sort!

Instead, I flung the sword at the feet of the leader and cried:

"Go to perdition, you red devil! You may devour me alive—I won't harm a hair of this pretty child's head."

"Ho-ho," bellowed the red one, "you have betrayed yourself, my lad! Were you a peasant you would cut off the girl's head rather than lose your own. You are a noble—you would rather die yourself than harm a woman. Very well; so be it! On your knees! The maid will show you how to cut off a head at one blow. She is my own daughter."

He handed the sword to the maid, who had risen to her feet and was laughing at me. She took the heavy weapon in one hand and swung it as lightly as if it had been a hazel rod, several times about her head. I have always been fortunate enough to be able to command my feelings, no matter what the situation; no matter how extreme the danger, I never allow myself to yield to fear.

I looked at the wonderful maid confronting me with mocking eyes, her white teeth gleaming between her red lips, her beautiful hair shining like gold.

"Kneel!" she cried, stamping her foot. "Kneel and say your prayers."

A faint-hearted fellow would, most likely, have lost courage; but, as I said before, I had never made the acquaintance of fear. So I laughed, and said: "I am not going to kneel; and I am not going to pray. I don't want to part with my head, I have too much need of it myself." Then I turned boldly toward her father, and addressed him: "Captain, I want to marry your daughter," I said. "Let me serve under you for one year, and, if at the end of that time I have not proved myself worthy to be your son-in-law, you may cut off my head, and welcome!"

The robber chief received this daring speech with a grin that was like the grimace of a hungry wolf preparing to devour a lamb.

"Fellow, do you know what you ask?" he bellowed. "The suitor for the hand of my daughter is tortured to death by that hand if he fails to perform the tasks she sets for him."

"All right!" I returned jauntily, "you needn't give yourself any trouble about me."

He held out his hand; I gave him mine, and the pressure it received in the powerful grasp was so severe that the blood spurted from under the finger-nails. But I did not betray by look or sign how badly it hurt me. Nay, I even gave a playful pinch with the crushed fingers to the cheek of the golden-haired maid and received from her in return a sound slap on my hand.

I could see that my behavior won favor in the eyes of the robbers. But we had little time for merry-making. The main body of the Tartar army now drew near, and we were face to face with an infuriated enemy outnumbering our band a hundred to one.

In face of the extreme danger which threatened, our leader remained calm. At a signal from him, his men with lightning speed set fire in fifty different places to the fallen trees, among which a considerable number of the vanguard, who had not been crushed to death, were hiding.

Of course the poor wretches, Tartars and captives alike, were consumed in the flames; we could hear their shrieks of agony when we were half way up the mountain, to which we had made our escape.

The Tartar army not being able to follow us, because of the burning forest, made our escape easy; and, by the time the trees had been reduced to ashes, we were far enough away, and in a place of safety.

Instead of giving me weapons to carry, I was compelled to continue in the role of beast of burden; a heavy bag of treasure was strapped on my back. We marched until the next morning. The haidemaken travelled only by night, consequently they were familiar with all roads and mountain passes.

When day broke we halted to rest and partake of a scanty meal. While we were eating, the leader asked me my name, and I gave him the first one that came into my head: "Jaroslaw Terguko," which was the name of Marinka's father. If I couldn't steal anything else from him I could at least steal his name?

Late in the afternoon we set out again on our journey, which led us over rugged paths and through savage gorges where no signs of human life were to be seen. At last we entered a deep defile between two mountain spurs. The walls of rock on either side seemed, with their projections and hollows, as if they might once have been joined together. They were nearer together at the top than at the base, and when I looked up at the narrow strip of sky far, far above me, I had a sensation as if the two walls were coming together. In this almost inaccessible defile was the chief retreat of the haidemaken. It was a stronghold that could successfully defy all human assaults.

In the south wall, about twenty yards from the base, yawns the mouth of a huge cavern.

At that point the wall is so steep, and inclines forward to such a degree, that access to the cavern cannot be gained by means of a ladder. The robbers, however, had contrived a clever hoisting apparatus.

From the top of the opposite wall a mountain brook had once leaped into the defile, to continue its way over the rocky bed into the valley.

When the haidemaken first established themselves in the cavern, it happened frequently that they would be blockaded in their retreat by the nobles and their followers, who had pursued the predatory band to the defile.

At such times the robbers suffered greatly from the scarcity of fresh water, especially if they chanced to be out of wine. Therefore, they conceived the plan of conducting the brook from the opposing wall into the cavern through a stout oaken gutter, and the water at the same time served to turn a series of wheels. Over one of the wheels ran a stout iron chain, to which were securely attached several large baskets; and so skillfully was the apparatus manipulated that the entire band might be hoisted into, or let down from, the cavern in the short space of two hours. It was a most admirable contrivance for the robbers, but not so admirable for the dwellers in the valley. The intercepted brook now flowed into the cave, and, as the water did not fill the cave, the most natural conclusion was that it found an outlet through various subterranean fissures.

The turning of the water from its original channel caused Prince Siniarsky considerable inconvenience, in that all his saw-mills, flour-mills and leather factory were left without a motor; while the inhabitants of the surrounding hamlets, who were dependent on their looms for a livelihood, were compelled to remove to another region, because they now were unable to bleach the linen.

Still greater was the misfortune which had overtaken Count Potocky. He was the owner of extensive salt mines on the further side of the mountain, which contains an illimitable deposit of the saliferous substance. The haidemaken were unable to drink the water of the lakelet in the bottom of their cavern, because of its saline character.

After the course of the brook had been changed, the worthy Count Potocky discovered one day that innumerable springs of fresh water were bursting from his side of the mountain, and flooding his most profitable mines. If he attempted to obstruct the flow of water in one place it would break out in another.

At last the two magnates discovered the cause of the mischief, and determined to oust the thievish haidemaken from their retreat by fumigation. So long as the band confined their depredations to the trading caravans they might be tolerated; but, when they became insolent enough to interfere with the comfort and convenience of the magnates, it was high time to put a stop to their pestiferous conduct!

And so an expedition against the cavern was planned. Before it could be carried out the war against the Transylvanians and Swedes broke out, and the noble gentlemen were compelled to march with their followers toward the invaders; but when hostilities ceased and the succoring Tartars had returned home, a formal blockade of the robbers was constituted.

The entrance to their cavern, which is about as large as the door of the cathedral at Coblentz, was fortified by a double parapet furnished with loop-holes. The intercepted brook did not pour its waters into the main entrance, but into a side opening, underneath which was the hoisting wheel. This wheel also turned the mill-stone, which ground the rye used by the robbers.

The band included a miller as well as a smith, a shoemaker and a tailor. As it is dark in the cave, all work was performed by torchlight. Where all the torches used in the cavern were procured I learned afterward.

The fore part of the cavern, into which the rays of the blessed sun penetrate as far as the opposite wall permits, is like a vaulted hall. In it were stored the weapons: all manner of fire-arms, all patterns of cutting, thrusting and hurling implements, which had been purloined from the armories of noble castles. Here, for the first time, I saw an old-time culverin, rusty with age and for want of care. In this part of the cavern were stored also the provisions in huge stone receptacles—enough to feed four hundred men during a long siege.

From the provision chamber a low, narrow passage leads to the mill-cave, but, as I never entered it, I cannot tell you just what it contained.

The main cavern is spacious as a church. When the entire band were assembled in the vast hall they were as lost in it. The arched roof is so high above the floor it is invisible in the gloom, which not even the light of many torches can dispel.

From this hall numerous narrow passages and corridors lead to smaller caves, in which the artisans of the band performed their labors. These unfortunates certainly must have been captives; for it is hardly possible that any man would, of his own free will, consent to pass his life toiling in so gloomy a hole. When we arrived at the cavern the leader asked me if I had a trade, and, as I could truthfully reply that the only one I was perfectly familiar with was that of bombardier, I did so.

"Very good; you shall soon have an opportunity to prove that you understand your trade as thoroughly as you say," he growled. "It is not safe to boast here, my lad, and not be able to perform—as you shall soon learn."

Meanwhile the robbers had hoisted to the cavern the booty taken from the Tartars. It was stored in one of the smaller chambers, into which I merely got a glimpse, as they rolled the huge slab of granite from the entrance, but that fleeting glance was enough to dazzle my eyes. There were heaps on heaps of costly articles: robes, mantles, vestments, richly embroidered with gold and precious gems, gold and silver chalices, shrines, ciboria, pastoral staffs, and a host of valuables too numerous to remember. Had the haidemaken only decided to disband then, every one of them would have received a fortune as his share of the plunder.

It is not to be wondered at that such stores of gold and silver had accumulated. The robbers never had occasion to need money.

The provision chamber was filled with food and drink. Such quantities of meat and bread were served that every man had all he wanted to eat, while casks of metheglin were constantly on tap.

The secret of this inexhaustible food supply was known only to the leader and his daughter. No matter how much was taken from the provision chamber, no decrease was ever noticeable.

The first evening of our return, the successful expedition was celebrated by a feast. After the robbers had eaten their fill, they lighted a huge fire and danced wildly around it; and when they had drunk all they wanted, they gathered about their leader and his daughter, who had taken their seats on an estrade draped with purple cloth.

Then a pale-faced young man was dragged into the hall and placed in front of the leader.

I saw now that a sort of trial was about to be held, a singular tribunal, where the judge and the jury first get tipsy!

"Jurko," said the leader to the youth, "you are accused of cowardice—of having run away at the approach of the enemy; also, of having neglected to give warning of the coming of the Tartars."

"I am not guilty," responded the youth in defence. "You placed me on guard to watch for the Tartars. Instead of the Tartars came wolves. Ten of the beasts attacked me—maybe there were fifty. If I had allowed the wolves to eat me, how could I have signaled to you? I didn't run away—I hid in a hollow tree to defend myself—one against fifty! I call that brave, not cowardly."

"Silly chatter!" bellowed the leader. "No matter what happened, you should have obeyed the command of your leader. If you are not the coward you are accused of being, then prove it by standing the test."

"That I will!" cried the youth, striking his breast with his fist.

The leader rose, took his daughter's hand, stepped down from the estrade, and, bidding his comrades follow, moved with the maid toward the rear of the cavern, which, until now, had been buried in midnight gloom.

Here the ground slopes steeply downward, and I could see by the light of the torches that we were on the verge of an abyss, at the bottom of which was water.

The leader held a wisp of straw to a torch, then tossed it into the abyss, which was lighted for a few seconds by the circling wreath of blazing straw; but it was quite long enough for me to see the terrible grandeur of the yawning gulf.

After tossing the straw into the abyss, the leader snatched the red and yellow striped silken kerchief from his daughter's neck, leaving the lovely snow-white shoulders and bosom uncovered, and flung it also into the abyss.

"There, Jurko," he cried, "you have often boasted that you are the bravest of our band, and you have aspired to the hand of my daughter Madus. If you are what you pretend to be, fetch the bride's kerchief from the lake down yonder."

The youth stepped boldly enough to the rim of the yawning gulf, and every one believed he was going to dive into it. But he halted on the edge, leaned forward and peered down at the water far below. After a moment's survey, he drew back, rubbed his ear with his fingers and made a wry face.

"Why don't you jump?" cried his comrades, tauntingly.

Jurko cautiously thrust one leg over the edge, bent forward and took another look; then he drew back his leg and rose to his feet.

"The devil may jump into this hell for me!" he exclaimed; "there's no getting out of it again for him who is fool enough to enter it!"

"Ho, coward! coward!" derisively shouted his comrades, rushing upon him. They disarmed him and dragged him by the hair toward a cleft in the wall of the cavern, wide enough only to admit the body of a man. This opening was closed by a block of granite that required the combined strength of six men to move it. A lighted candle was placed in the trembling youth's hand; then he was thrust into the rock-tomb, and the granite door moved back to its place. The wild laughter of his comrades drowned the shrieks of the victim who had been buried alive.

Then followed the "dance of death," and I never witnessed anything more terrifying. The lovely Madus feigned death and looked it, too! and every member had to dance a turn with her. When it came my turn, the leader said to me:

"Hold, lad, you may not dance with Madus until you have become really one of us—until you have stood the test. Moreover, you, too, presume to aspire to the hand of my daughter."

"Yes, I do!" I replied, "and I will do whatever I am bid."

"Very good; the bride's kerchief lies down yonder in the lake; let us see if you are courageous enough to go after it."

"You surely did not undertake so foolhardy a task?" here interrupted the prince; and the chair dictated to the notary as follows:

"Sinful tempting of providence, prompted by criminal desire for an impure female."

"Yes, your highness, I performed the task," continued Hugo, "but I beg your honors not to register the leap as an additional transgression. I am not responsible for it. I was compelled to jump or be buried alive in the wall of the cavern. Besides, I knew the danger was not so great as it appeared. When a boy, I once visited a salt mine. I had seen by the light of the blazing straw that the walls of the abyss were formed of the dark blue strata peculiar to salt mines, and guessed that the lake was strongly impregnated with salt. I had also noticed on the further wall of the abyss a flight of steps hewn in the rock, and concluded that I had nothing to fear from drowning in the buoyant water, if I reached it in safety. But, before I proceed farther, I desire to enter a formal protest against the chair's designating my beloved Madus an 'impure female.' She was pure and innocent—an angel on earth, a saint in heaven. He that defames her must do battle with me—my adversary in coat of mail, I in doublet of silk. The weapons: lances, swords, or maces—whatever he may select; and I positively refuse to proceed with my confession until his honor, the mayor, has given me satisfaction, or amended the protocol."

"Well, mayor," said the prince, addressing the chair, "I think the prisoner is justified in his protest. Either you must amend the protocol, or fight him."

The former expedient was chosen, and the notary erased the latter clause of the protocol. It read, when corrected: "Sinful temptation of providence by chaste affection for a respectable maid."

"Now, my son, you may jump."

Hugo thanked the prince and resumed his confession:

I pressed my ankles together, bent forward, and sprang, head foremost, into the abyss. As I sped swiftly downward, there was a sound like swelling thunder in my ears, then I became stone deaf, and the water closed over me. My eyes and mouth told me it was salt water, and whatever apprehension I had had vanished. The next moment I was floating on the surface, my head and shoulders above the water. I soon found the kerchief, which I tied about my neck, amid the acclamations and cheers of my comrades, which were multiplied by the echoing walls to the most infernal roaring. The torches held over the mouth of the abyss gleamed through the darkness like a blood-red star in the firmament of hades.

A few vigorous strokes propelled me to the steps leading from the lake to the upper gallery of the abyss, which is really an abandoned salt mine.

There are one hundred and eighty steps, but by taking two at a time I reduced them to ninety; and three minutes after I had taken my leap, I stood, encrusted from head to foot with salt—like a powdered imp!—before my blushing Madus.

She received me with a bashful smile when the robbers carried me on their shoulders to her, and I was about to kiss her, when the leader seized me by the collar and drew me back.

"Not yet, lad, not yet!" he cried. "You have only been through the christening ceremony. Confirmation comes next. You must become a member of our faith before you can become my daughter's husband. Every man that marries a princess must adopt her belief."

Now, as your honors may have guessed, the question of religion was one I did not require much time to answer. I consented without a moment's hesitation to adopt my Madus' faith. The leader then signed to one of the band to prepare for the ceremony of confirmation. It was one of the priests of whom I have spoken—I had taken particular notice of him during the feast, because he ate and drank more than any one else.

"He that becomes a member of our society"—the leader informed me—"must take a different name from the one he has borne elsewhere. I am called 'Nyedzviedz,' which signifies either 'the bear,' or 'without equal.' What name shall we give you?"

Some one suggested that, as I was an expert swimmer, I should be called "Szczustak" (perch); another thought "Lyabedz" (swan), more suitable and prettier, but I told them that, as I excelled most in hurling bombs, "Baran" (ram), would be still more appropriate; and Baran it was decided I should be called.

In the meantime the robber priest had donned his vestments. On his plentifully oiled hair rested a tall, gold-embroidered hat; over his coarse peasant coat he had drawn a richly decorated cassock; his feet were thrust into a pair of slippers, also handsomely embroidered—relics, obviously, of some gigantic saint; for the robber priest's feet, from which he had not removed his boots, were quite hidden in them. In his hands he held a silver crucifix; and as I looked at him, the thought came to me that he had, without a doubt, made way with the original wearer and bearer of the rich vestments, and the crucifix.

He ordered me to kneel before him. I did so, and he began to perform all sorts of hocus-pocus over me. I couldn't understand a word of it, for he spoke in Greek, and I had not yet become familiar with that language. I learned it later.

After mumbling over me for several minutes, he smeared some ill-smelling ointment on my nose; then he fumigated me with incense until I was almost suffocated. In concluding, when he bestowed on me my new name, he gave me such a vigorous box on the ear, that it rang for several seconds, and I almost fell backward. The blow was not given with the hand of the priest, but with the sturdy fist of the robber.

This is carrying the joke too far, I said to myself; and, before the ruffian could guess what I intended, I was on my feet, and had delivered a right-hander on the side of his head that sent his gold hat spinning across the floor, and himself, and his slippers after it.

"Actus majoris potentiae contra ecclesiasticam personam!" dictated the mayor to the notary; while his highness, the prince, held his stomach, and laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks.

"I should like to have seen that performance!" he exclaimed when he had got his breath again. "Did the padre excommunicate you?"

Not much, he didn't, your highness! From that moment I became a person of consequence among the haidemaken. The leader slapped me heartily on the shoulder, and said approvingly:

"You're the right sort, lad—we need no further proof."

After a bumper all 'round, to celebrate my entrance to the community, every man wrapped himself in his bear-skin, and lay down on the floor of the cavern. Although the torches had been extinguished I could see, by the faint light which penetrated from the entrance, that Madus ascended a rope ladder to a deep hollow high up in the wall, and drew the ladder up after her.

In a very few minutes the snores from the four hundred robbers proclaimed them oblivious to this work-a-day world.

At day-break the watchman's horn brought every man to his feet; at the same moment the leader appeared from an adjoining chamber, and gave to each one his task for the day.

After we had breakfasted, Nyedzviedz conducted me, in company with Madus and several of the band, to the armory.

"Here Baran," he said,—thrusting his foot against the culverin I mentioned before—"you claim to be a skilled bombardier. Let us see if you understand how to manage a thing like this. We stole it from Count Potocky's castle, and brought it here with great difficulty. Sixteen men would carry it two hundred steps, then other sixteen would relieve them, and so on. We didn't find out until we had got it up here that it would be of no use to us. The first time we tried to fire it off—it lay on the ground as now—four men sat astride of it, as on a horse, to steady it. I, myself, directed the shot toward the mouth of the cavern, and three men stood behind me to observe operations. When I applied the fuse, the infernal thing sprang into the air flinging the four men astride it to the roof of the cave; while the ball, instead of going where I had aimed—out of the entrance—imbedded itself in the wall over yonder, where it still sticks."

I laughed heartily at his amusing description of the gun's behavior; whereupon he said soberly:

"Oh, you may laugh, but it was no laughing matter I can tell you! I made a second attempt. I tied a rope around the rascal's neck to prevent him from kicking again, and fastened the ends securely to two stout pegs driven into the ground. 'There, sir,' I said, 'now kick if you want to!' I lighted the fuse—the demon didn't kick this time; instead he rushed backward dragging both pegs with him; broke the right leg of one of the men, the left of another, and both legs of the third; and the ball bored itself into the corner over there. Now let us see if you can do any better."

"Oh, you stupid bear!" I exclaimed, unable to restrain my mirth, "you may thank your stars that the rusty old gun didn't burst into flinders and kill every one of you!—as you deserved! The first thing to be done with the culverin is to clean and polish it until it shines like a mirror. Then—who ever heard of laying a cannon on the ground to fire it off?—it must have a sort of platform on wheels so it can be moved about."

The leader immediately gave orders to the smith and the wagon-maker of the band to obey my instructions and complete as quickly as possible the sort of gun-carriage I should describe to them, and I set about at once to clean and scour the old culverin which, with the accumulated rust of years, was no light task.

There was no time to lose, for the Tartars, with their Hungarian captives, having vacated Poland, the Polish magnates returned to their castles, and prepared to carry out the plans for punishing the insolent haidemaken, which had been interrupted by the war. Those members of the band who were sent on various errands into the regions adjacent to the Prsjaka Gorge, brought back, instead of booty, bloody heads, and the startling news that the roads leading to the Gorge were filled with armed troopers.

The two despoiled magnates had combined their forces, and were prepared for a regular siege of the plundering haidemaken.

The latter, however, merely laughed at the warlike preparations. They were not afraid of a siege! Nyedzviedz, on learning of the approach of the beleaguerers, instead of curtailing our rations, doubled them, mystifying all of us by the seemingly illimitable supplies in the provision chamber. We received, every day, double rations of fresh goats' meat and mutton, and yet there was not in any of the caves even the sign of a living animal.

Meanwhile the beleaguerers advanced steadily.

There was a stratagem the robbers had frequently resorted to in order to vanquish a beleaguering foe. They opened an underground sluice through which the water of the salt lake in the bottom of the abyss would rush into the defile and drown the enemy. But Prince Siniarsky's troopers had become familiar with this trick; and one morning, when we awoke, we found that a stone wall had been built across the gorge while we slept. An arched opening in the center of the base would give egress to all the water we might choose to let out of the lake.

This was bad enough, but worse came later.

The wall increased in height every night. I told Nyedzviedz at the beginning what would be the outcome of such a proceeding; when the top of the wall should have reached to the height of the wooden gutter which conveyed the brook into the cavern, Siniarsky's men would fling a line over it, attach a stout chain to the line, and when they had drawn it over the gutter it would be easy enough to pull it down.

"In that case we shall die of thirst," growled the leader, "for there isn't any other water in the cavern fit to drink. But a still greater danger, of which you know nothing, threatens us."

He did not tell me what it was, but he became so morose and ill-tempered, that no one but his daughter ventured to speak to him.

The haidemaken made several assaults on the wall, but the troopers returned the fire with such volleys from the numerous loop-holes in it, that our men were always forced to retreat.

All hopes were now centered in me, and on the culverin, which I had polished until it shone like gold. The carriage for it had been completed, and balls cast under my directions.

The wall grew higher and higher, until at last the top was on a level with our conduit. Its completion was celebrated in the enemy's camp by the blaring of trumpets, and beating of drums, and what I had foretold came to pass; the arquebusier mounted to the top of the wall, adjusted his arquebuse on its forked rest, and prepared to take aim at our water conduit.

"Now, watch me!" said I to Nyedzviedz, pointing the culverin's muzzle toward the cornice of the wall.

Two shots sounded simultaneously, and when the smoke had cleared away, there was neither arquebuse, nor arquebusier—nor yet the cornice of the wall, to be seen. All three had vanished.

I took aim a second time—this time at the base of the wall; and at the sixth shot, the entire structure of solid masonry tumbled down with a deafening crash, burying under it the musketeers who were at the loop-holes. Not one of them escaped alive.

The haidemaken, with loud cries of triumph, now hastily descended from the cavern in their baskets, and flung themselves on the enemy, and while the combat raged in the defile below me, I wheeled my culverin to the mouth of the cavern, and hurled shot after shot toward the troopers who were hurrying to the aid of their comrades.

The enemy was completely routed, and our men returned to the cavern richly laden with spoils.

So all-powerful is a cannon when its management is thoroughly understood.

"That will do for today;" at this point observed the prince. "The confession will be continued tomorrow."

THE VISZPA OGROD.

The next morning Hugo resumed his confession:

When the haidemaken, after having put to flight the troopers returned with their booty to the cavern, the leader said to me:

"Well, Baran, you certainly earned your name today, by proving yourself a most effective 'ram.' To your assaults with the culverin we owe our victory. Here is the treasure we took from the vanquished foe—take of it what you want, you have the first choice." Gold and silver galore lay before me, but I answered: "Thank you, Nyedzviedz, you know very well I have no use for money; instead, I want your daughter—for her alone I have served you; she is the reward I desire."

To this reply the leader shook his head irritably, and said: "I am disappointed in you, Baran. You are, after all, only a tender-hearted dove that wants to bill and coo. The man who has a wife is only half a man. The true haidemak embraces his sweetheart, then slays her—or better: slays her first. Why do you desire to marry? Be wise, lad, and remain a celibate. If you will think no more of Madus I will make you my second in command."

"But I can't, and won't think of anything but Madus," I returned, stubbornly; "and if you don't give her to me, you are not a man of your word."

"You don't know what you are asking, Baran," again said the leader. "If you persist in your demand you will compel me to send you the way all our members have gone who proved themselves to be soft-hearted doves. The man who wants to bill and coo cannot remain with us. If you marry Madus you must leave us."

I told him I would manage somehow to endure such a calamity, which made him laugh heartily.

"I know very well, Baran, my lad, that it would not grieve you to leave us, if you were allowed to depart with Madus to the outside world. But that may not be. The man we pronounce a 'dove,' must go a different route. The youth who refused to leap into the abyss the day you arrived, was a dove. You saw what became of him. A hundred and more love-lorn swains, and cowards have gone the same way. You will find in every crevice the skeletons of the unfortunates. Do you still desire to join the ghastly company?"

It did not sound very alluring—to celebrate one's nuptials among cadavers; but when I looked at Madus, who was standing by her father's side, the glance which met mine from her beaming eyes banished from my thoughts everything but her beautiful image, and I said:

"It matters not whither I go if my Madus goes with me—be the journey to hades itself!"

When Madus also declared she had no dread of undertaking the journey with me, her father summoned a priest—the same bearded rascal that had performed the ceremony of confirmation over me.

His vestments this time were even more magnificent—('acquired,' I have not the least doubt, from some wealthy cathedral by my respected father-in-law and his comrades) and with all manner of unintelligible mummery he performed the ceremony, which united me and my beloved Madus in the holy bonds of matrimony.

When the marriage ceremony was concluded, my wife and I each received from her father a costly, gold ornamented cap, and a richly embroidered mantle; a bag of provisions, and a jug of wine were also given to us. Then we were conducted to the same cleft in the wall of the cavern, in which the unfortunate Jurko had been entombed.

When the heavy rock had been removed from the opening the robbers, one after the other, shook hands with us. The leader was so deeply affected he embraced both of us. After a lighted taper had been placed in my hand, we were thrust into the narrow passage which was immediately closed behind us.

The noises in the cavern sounded like the low murmur one hears in a sea-shell held close to the ear. By the faint light from our taper I could see a smile of encouragement on my Madus' face, and obeyed without a question when she bade me follow her.

We had forced our way through the narrow passage, which was hardly wide enough for one person, a considerable distance, when we suddenly came to a small chamber about the size of a room in a pleasant cottage. Here, Madus said, we should have to rest and pass the night.

"Night?" I repeated. "We can easily bring the blackness of midnight upon us in this hole! We have only to extinguish the candle. But we shall never know when it is morning. Daylight never enters here. No cheerful cock-crow ever reaches this tomb. Here, no one will come to rouse us, and say: 'Rise, rise! morning, beauteous morning, is come.'"

"Fie, fie, Baran," chided my Madus. "Do you already regret the step you have taken? Should you be sorry never again to see daylight—now that you have me with you?"

"No, no," I answered, promptly, ashamed of my momentary regret. "No, no," and I set about preparing for our night's rest. We spread our bear skins on the floor of the cave, sat down on them, and ate our supper, becoming quite cheerful as the wine sped with pleasurable warmth through our veins.

Suddenly Madus turned toward me and asked:

"Where do you imagine we are, Baran?"

"In paradise," I made answer, kissing her.

Thereupon she roguishly blew out the light and asked again: "Can you see me?"

"No," I answered, for I could see nothing at all. "Look again, Baran, and repeat after me what I say."

I fixed my eyes where I believed her to be, and repeated after her, word for word, the Lord's Prayer, the Ave Maria and the Credo, and as I did so, it seemed to me as if the dear child's countenance came into view, gradually growing brighter and brighter, until the gloom disappeared, and the subterranean grotto became irradiated as with the sunlight of noon. I did not tell her so, though, for women are so easily made vain; but from that moment I became convinced that Madus was my guardian angel.

Never, in all my life, have I been so happy as I was with my beloved Madus in that underground cave, and I should have been content to stop there with her until the end of time! I would not have inquired if ever a morning would dawn again for us, had not Madus roused me from a sound slumber, and lighted the taper.

"What do you imagine will become of us?" she asked, and I replied:

"I believe the haidemaken are playing a trick on us, and that they will fetch us away from here after a while."

"No, you are mistaken, Baran, we shall never again return to the cavern. The haidemaken do not expect to see us again."

"But, surely, Nyedzviedz will not allow his only daughter to perish miserably in this hole?" I exclaimed.

"Alas, you don't know him, my poor Baran," returned Madus sorrowfully. "My father's heart is impervious to pity. Those whom he banishes, as we have been banished, can never return to the cavern."

I now became alarmed in earnest. Until that moment I had entertained a suspicion that the haidemaken were only trying to frighten me.

I was cursing my folly—mentally of course—for having allowed the fascinations of a love-dream to lure me to so wretched a fate, when Madus rose from her bear skin couch, and bade me follow her. I remembered her radiant countenance of the preceding evening, and my confidence in her was restored.

We passed onward, through the narrow corridor which traversed numerous caves, larger and smaller than the one in which we had rested. I kept glancing furtively, right and left, expecting every moment to see the helpless skeletons with which Nyedzviedz had tried to intimidate me.

On, on we pressed, occasionally passing the entrance to a cave that was stored with all manner of plunder. At last I noticed that the corridor began to widen, and suddenly my soul was rejoiced to discover, far ahead, a faint gleam of light that became brighter and brighter as we approached. It was daylight!

"Hurrah!" I shouted aloud, in my ecstacy clasping Madus to my heart. "We are free! We are free!"

"Free? No, my Baran, far from it!" she returned gently and sadly. "We are approaching our life-prison. You will soon see it."

The passage was now wide enough for the two of us to walk side by side. We did not need the taper now, for we had sunlight from the strip of blue sky we could see overhead. I pressed eagerly forward to see more of it. I could have drunk in at one long breath the entire heaven.

At last we arrived at the end of the passage between the two tall walls of rock, and there below us lay the Viszpa Ogrod, which means: "Island Garden."

And it is a veritable island; only, instead of water, it is encompassed by rocks—rocks so high, and so steep, that nothing wingless can ever hope to escape over them into the world outside.

Heaven-towering walls of basalt, naked cliffs, sheer inaccessible, dome-shaped, and truncated, ranged one against the other in a compact mass like the facade of a vast cathedral, environ the Viszpa Ogrod, which, with its verdant fields, forest, fruit and vegetable gardens, lies like a gleaming emerald in a setting of rock, at the bottom of the deep crater.

From the dizzy heights of the cavern wall leaps a stream, that is transformed to iridescent spray before it reaches the valley, there to pursue its sinuous course amid the fields, gardens, and tiny white dwellings upon which we looked down as through a misty veil.

"That is our future home," whispered Madus. "Our life-prison from which there is no escape. To this island garden is banished all those haidemaken who prove too tender-hearted for their cruel trade, or tire of their adventurous life; also those who refuse to desert the women they love. Here, the banished dwell together and till the ground—they will never again see any other portion of the globe than this little valley."

The Viszpa Ogrod revealed the secret of the haidemaken's power to defy a siege. This island garden made it possible for them to defy all the troops sent against them, for it contained an inexhaustible supply of provisions. When the robbers discovered it, it was a wilderness of stunted fir trees. No living creature could exist in it, for there was no water until the brook, conducted into the cavern from the opposite side of the defile, found an outlet into it, thence, through the ground, into Prince Siniarsky's salt mines.

The water very soon wrought a wonderful change in the aspect of the valley. A portion of the stunted forest was cleared, and the ground planted with rye, vegetables, and various shrubs and plants which throve luxuriantly in this "garden" sheltered from the cold winds by the wall of rock. The firs left standing put forward new growth, and became stately trees—everything, even the human beings that came to dwell here, underwent a complete transformation.

True, those whom the haidemaken sent to the valley had already become tender-hearted, or, weary of the wild life of the robbers; but, no matter what the life of a man had been before he became a member of the little community in the island garden, there he would forget the entire world, become an entirely new being.

I speak from experience, for I, who have enjoyed a full share of this world's pleasures—everything that can rejoice the king in his palace, and the dreams of the prisoner in his dungeon—I never was truly happy until I went to dwell with my beloved Madus in the Viszpa Ogrod.

A narrow path winds from the outlet of the rock-corridor down into the valley. Madus, who was perfectly familiar with the path, led the way, recognizing, while still at a distance from them, each occupant of the little cottages. The children ran to meet us, and, on hearing from Madus who I was, seized our hands, and with shouts of joy drew us toward the village.

A bell was rung to announce our arrival. Later I learned from the inscription on this bell that it had formerly swung in the tower of Bicloviez monastery. Like everything else in the valley, it had been stolen. Everything, even the beautiful cloth and silk garments which clothed the women—nay the women themselves, were plunder.

Robber and robbed dwelt together amid plunder in harmony, happy as Adam and Eve in Eden. They ploughed, planted, and gathered the harvest in perfect contentment. They shared their abundance with the cavern, and received in return plunder from all parts of the world.

As I have said before, there were no animals in the Viszpa Ogrod when the robbers discovered it, and as it was impossible to convey full-grown cattle through the narrow passage from the cavern, calves, goats, and lambs instead were brought to the valley, which had become so well stocked with everything necessary to sustain a large army, that no potentate on earth could have reduced the haidemaken to starvation, no matter to what length the siege might have been extended.

The only danger which threatened the cavern was the stoppage of their water supply. Were that cut off, the luxuriance and fruitfulness of the valley would vanish, and it would become again an arid wilderness uninhabitable for man and beast. This was the danger dreaded by Nyedzviedz when the troopers began to build their wall in the defile.

The dwellers in the Viszpa Ogrod lived together like the family of Father Abraham in the promised land. The eldest of the men was the patriarch. He made all the laws; issued all the commands; allotted to each one his task and share of the harvest, giving to everyone as much as was required for the needs of himself and his household.

There was no priest in the valley. There was no Sabbath. The pleasant days were working-days; when it rained everybody rested.

There was no praying, no cursing, no quarreling. There, where every head of a household had once been a thief, no disputing about mine and thine was ever heard. There, every woman—and not one of them had been given an opportunity to vow fidelity to her mate before the altar, but had been forcibly conveyed to the valley—was so faithful, so modest, that no stranger could have told what was the color of her eyes.

When Madus and I arrived in the valley, Zoraw, the patriarch, prepared for us a feast, to which were invited the rest of the community to the number of eighty. After the feast, Zoraw conducted us to the brook, where we drank with everyone the pledge of fraternity from a wooden bottle of fresh water—that being the only beverage in the valley. At the conclusion of this ceremony, the bottle was broken in pieces, to symbolize unalterable alliance.

Then Zoraw measured off and assigned to us our plot of ground. The entire community lent a hand, and in two days our cottage was under roof, modestly furnished, and ready for occupancy. In the stable stood a cow and a goat for the housewife. When we were comfortably settled in our new home I was asked by the patriarch what manner of tools he should give me; and finding that I should be compelled to work—something I had never learned at school, or in the field—I chose the trade of smith, which would at least give me the handling of iron, without which I never felt contented.

I became accustomed in a very short time to my new mode of life. I would work at my trade the allotted time every day, then go home to my wife, who would tell me how the ducklings had got smothered in the shell, how the milk had turned sour, and such like prattle. And one day she whispered blushingly in my ear the secret which makes the husband's heart beat faster with joy and pride. In listening to it, I forgot everything else in the world. The thought that I was to become the father of a family, that would grow up to know no other home but this peaceful valley, filled my soul with joy and content. This thought became to me what roots are to a tree; it attached me so securely to my little plot of ground, that I felt as if no power on earth could tear me away from it. My beloved Madus, and our little home, became doubly dear to me. Had all the wealth, all the splendor that came to me later, been offered me then in exchange for my Madus and the humble little home she filled with her joyous presence, I should have refused with scorn.

THE KOLTUK-DENGENEGI.

I had become perfectly satisfied with my peaceful and uneventful existence. My entire world now lay within the rocky rim of the Viszpa Ogrod. My entire happiness lay in the beaming smile with which my Madus greeted my home-coming every day. My labors in the smithy were always over by noon; the afternoons were devoted to work required to be done at home.

One day I was siting in the hall-way of our cottage busily employed fashioning, from some crimson willow withes, a pretty basket-cradle, when a shadow suddenly shut out the sunlight from me. I looked up and was startled to see Nyedzviedz standing in the door-way.

"You here!" I exclaimed. "Have you, too, been relegated to the Viszpa Ogrod because of the softened heart? Or have you come here to hide from an enemy?—Which?"

"Neither, my good Baran," answered the leader. "I am not come to stop in this happy valley, but to fetch you away from it. We need you in the cavern. We cannot get on without you. We are planning a most important expedition, and need your assistance. A rich caravan is on the road to Mohilow; it is made up of Russian, Turkish and Jew traders, and is accompanied by a military escort. We propose to capture this caravan, and take possession of all the treasure and valuables, after which, we shall proceed to Berdiczov and loot the monastery. As the monastery is strongly fortified, and garrisoned, we shall have to batter down the walls; therefore we must take you with us, as you are the only one who understands how to handle our field gun. I shall appoint you second in command of the expedition."

Madus had come from the kitchen while her father was speaking. She was not in the least glad to see him; on the contrary, she greeted him with a frown, and demanded angrily:

"Why do you try to lure my gentle-hearted Baran away from me? He does not need your stolen treasure. He has all he wants here in his humble home. You buried us here—we are dead to you, therefore leave us here in peace."

To which Nyedzviedz made answer by saying: "Baran, does the father or the husband control the wife? If you, the husband, don't know how to control your wife, I, her father, will show you what to do with the woman who speaks when she is not spoken to."

I well knew what a hasty temper was the leader's, and persuaded Madus to come with me to the kitchen, where I gently argued away her opposition to my leaving home. I assured her it would be for our good; that when I had got together enough money to keep us in comfort I should return, and find a way to escape with her from the valley to some large city, where we should be safe from the haidemaken, and where she might sweep the dusty streets with a long-tailed silk gown, and be addressed as "gracious lady."

This had the desired effect. She wept bitterly; but she bade me go with her father. When I turned to cast a last look into the valley, before we entered the rock-corridor, I could see my poor little wife's red kerchief still gleaming in the doorway of our cottage. Her favorite dove had flown after me to the entrance of the corridor; there it settled down on my shoulder and began to coo into my ear. I had to fling it away from me quite forcibly in order to frighten it back to its mistress. My former comrades greeted me with loud cries of welcome, and celebrated my return by a tremendous drinking-bout.

When, after my long abstention from it, I again tasted wine, I forgot the Viszpa Ogrod and everything connected with it—as one will, when awake, forget even the most enchanting dreams.

It is a well-known fact that the wine-drinker who abstains for a long period from his favorite beverage, then yields again to the temptation, becomes a more inveterate drunkard than before he resisted the fascinations of the cup. The haidemaken drank only Tokay; they made a point of selecting from the cellars of the prelates, and magnates whom they plundered, only the best vintages.

The following night we set out for Mohilow, a twelve days' journey.

I am almost willing to wager that not a soul, in the region to which we were going, really believed such a band of robbers as the haidemaken was in existence—or, if it had ever been heard of, the tales of its marvelous exploits were looked upon as kindred to the fables repeated in the nursery.

As I said before, the band always traveled by night. During the day we rested, hidden in a dense forest, or in an uninhabited valley.

We never entered a village to procure food, but carried with us rations of dried meat, varying our diet with mushrooms collected on the way.

On learning definitely from the scouts we had sent to reconnoiter that the caravan was expected to reach Mohilow on a certain day, we concealed ourselves in a swampy thicket by the side of the road over which it would have to pass. Here we were forced to wait two days, during which our meat gave out, and we had to eat raw frogs and birds' eggs. The peasant carts passing along the road, with pretzels, smoked sausages, cheese, mead and wine for the market at Mohilow, were not molested by the hungry robbers, who would only have needed to stretch out their hands to secure the good things for which they languished. But the leader would not allow it.

"We are here to fight, not feast," he said.

Our patience was well nigh at an end, when, one day, the sound of a trumpet and drum announced the approach of the caravan.

On mules, on horses, camels, and ox-carts, came the fifteen-hundred-odd human souls, their escort, a valiant company of soldiers in coats of mail, and helmets, and armed with halberds, and muskets. It was a motly crowd, outnumbering our band in souls; but inferior to us in strength.

When, at a preconcerted signal, our men dashed from the thicket, the entire caravan fell into confusion. The soldiers fired off their muskets, heedless where they aimed; we, on the other hand, sent our shots where they would prove most effective.

A frightful tumult ensued—it was: save himself who can; while the heavily laden carts and vans were left behind.

I must admit that the haidemaken behaved atrociously. Never, in all my experience on the battlefield, did I witness such a scene of carnage. It made me ill; I became so faint with horror and disgust I sank unconscious to the ground.

When I came to my senses, I saw a Turkish merchant hobbling on a crutch toward me. He was old, and seemed to have been seriously wounded, for he was covered with blood. He came straight toward me, and, sinking to the ground by my side, said in a pleading tone: "My son, I beg you, take my yataghan, and cut off my head."

Your honors may believe that I was startled by so singular a request.

"I shan't do any such thing!" I replied promptly, and with decision.

"Pray do," he urged. "Cut off my head without further parley, and you shall have this koltuk-dengenegi," which is Turkish for "beggar's staff."

"No, Baba," I returned, with the same decision as before. "I can't cut off your head, for I have no grudge against you. I am not an assassin—though I do belong to the haidemaken; I was forced into this band, much as Pilate was thrust into the credo—against his will, I'll warrant!"

"Your countenance tells me, my son, that you are better than your comrades," said the old Turk. "For that reason I ventured to ask a favor of you. Come, hesitate no longer to perform the deed of mercy for which you shall be handsomely rewarded. Decapitate this old body; it will not be assassination; one can murder only a living being—so says the Koran, the only truthful book on earth—and I cannot strictly be called a living being. I have a deadly wound in the abdomen, and am bound to die sooner or later. Besides, I am prepared and desire to die. I can't flee any farther; and if I fall into the hands of your cruel comrades I shall be horribly tortured. Therefore, I beg you to release me from further suffering; cut off my head with this beautiful yataghan, which shall also be yours."

But, not even then could I bring myself to grant his prayer, and relieve him of his sufferings and his bald head.

"Leave me, Baba," I exclaimed impatiently. "If you want to get rid of your head, cut it off yourself with that beautiful yataghan; or else, hang yourself on one of those beautiful trees over yonder."

To this the old Turk responded with pious mien: "That I dare not do, my son. The Koran—the only truthful book on earth—says, there are seven hells: one underneath the other, and each one more terrible than the one above it. The first hell is for true believers, like myself; the second is for Christians; the seventh is for the Atheists. The fourth, Morhut, is for those persons who commit suicide. Were I to take my own life, I should have to descend to the fourth hell, where, as well as in every one of the three hells above it, I should be obliged to remain three-hundred and thirty-three years before I should be permitted to enter paradise. Whereas, if I should lose my life at the hands of an unbeliever like yourself, I should—so says the Koran, the only truthful book on earth—go straightway to paradise."

And still I hesitated; though it seemed but kindness to grant the old Turk's request, and send him speeding straightway into paradise. But, I remembered that our Bible (really the only truthful book on earth) says: "Thou shalt not kill;" and thrust the importunate old fellow away from me.

But he renewed his pleading with increased urgency: "See, my son, I will give you this koltuk-dengenegi—" "Of what use would that crutch be to me?" I interrupted.

"If you will screw off the top you will see that the crutch is filled with gold pieces," he replied; and to prove that he spoke the truth, he unscrewed the shoulder rest and shook several gold coins into the palm of his hand.

The yellow metal dazzled my eyes: "The crutch would hold a good many coins," I said to myself, to which added the Turk's pleading voice:

"You shall have it all, my son, if you will but grant my prayer."

And still I hesitated.

"I can't do it, Baba," I said. "Even if you gave me the crutch, I should not be allowed to keep the gold. No member of our band is allowed to keep for his own use alone any valuables that may come into his possession. Everything must be placed at once in the common treasury for the use of the entire band—and woe to the haidemak who would dare to keep for himself even a single Polish groschen! So, you see, Baba, your gold would be of no use to me."

"Listen to me, my son," again urged the wounded Turk, who was growing visibly weaker; "you are young; I can see that this wild life is not suited to you. If you had my gold, you could escape to Wallachia, buy an estate—a castle—serfs, and marry. Perhaps you already have a sweetheart—if so, why shouldn't you live in happiness with her, instead of skulking about in caves and swamps like a wild animal?"

This suggestion made me thoughtful. It brought back to my mind my dear good Madus. Ah! if only I might fly with her, far away, to some region where she might become a respected lady. If I had the Turk's gold! I could easily keep it secreted in the crutch. Some day, when the haidemaken were away on an expedition, I could easily stupefy the few members of the band remaining in the cavern by drugging their mead with Venice treacle; and when they were sound asleep I could fetch my Madus from the Viszpa Ogrod and with her escape to a far away land.

This thought impressed itself so deeply on my mind—it became so alluring that, unconsciously, my hand went out toward the beautiful yataghan.

"If I thought I could keep the gold hidden!" I said, unconscious that I had given voice to the thought.

"That will be easy enough; just leave it in the crutch," promptly responded the Turk. "When you join your comrades make believe to have taken cold in the swamp yonder, say that the muscles of your leg have contracted and made you lame. That will not only give you an excuse to use the crutch, but it will most likely get your discharge; a hobbling cripple is not a desirable comrade in a band of robbers."

Without waiting to see how I might take his suggestion, the Turk proceeded at once to show me how to bandage my left leg, so that it could not be straightened at the knee; how to keep my ankle against the crutch, and hobble along on the right leg. I thought of Madus, for whom I would have hobbled on one leg to Jerusalem, and let him show me how to transform myself to a cripple.

"Now, my son," he said, when he had delivered his instructions, "take my yataghan, my beautiful yataghan, and cut off my head—only don't hack it off as a butcher would with a cleaver. Swing the yataghan, thus, in a half-circle—easily, gracefully, as you would the bow of a violin. I will kneel here at your feet, bend forward, thus; then do you strike just here: between these two segments of the vertebræ. Be sure to keep firm hold on the handle to prevent the blade from slipping—"

He gave me so many directions, kept on talking so long that Satan, who is ever at one's elbow, gave my arm a sudden thrust, and, before I knew what had happened, a body minus a head lay at my feet, while a head minus a body was rolling down the hill—

"Homicidium!" dictated the chair to the notary. To this the prince appended:

"Under extenuating circumstances. We must not ignore the fact that the deed was committed at the urgent request of the decapitated—under approval of the Koran, and instigated, I might say, forced, to the act by the wicked one at the perpetrator's elbow."

"It was killing a human being, all the same!" said Hugo, "and I had cause soon afterward to repent most bitterly what I had done. After I had committed the bloody deed I set out to overtake my comrades. They had secured much valuable booty which they were carrying on their backs. When I came up with them, hobbling on one leg and leaning on my crutch, they broke into loud laughter:

"What the devil is the matter with you?" queried the leader.

"I am all used up!" I groaned. "I killed an old Turk, whose lame leg prevented him from running away with the rest of them; and before he gave up the ghost he cursed me and prayed that I might be compelled to hobble along on a crutch for the rest of my life. He had hardly got the words out of his throat before my leg became as you see it, and I can't straighten it."

"That comes of standing in the swamp—cold water will affect effeminate fellows like you in that way," observed Nyedzviedz. "But don't worry, we have among us one who understands how to cure such maladies. Ho, there! Przepiorka, come hither."

I was frightened, I can tell you! If my leg were examined it would be found to be in a sound and healthy condition. But there was no help for it—I could not escape an examination. So I drew up the calf of the leg so tightly against the lower part of the thigh that Przepiorka, after he had tried several times in vain to straighten it pronounced it permanently crippled.

On hearing this decision, I forgot my role and would have straightened the leg to convince myself that it could be done; but, what was my consternation and alarm to find that I was unable to do it. The affliction I had pretended had come upon me in earnest! God had punished me. I was a miserable cripple, unable to take a single step without the koltuk-dengenegi.

How I cursed him who had left it to me in legacy!

CHAPTER II.
THE BERDICZOV MONASTERY.

"Don't worry," said Nyedzviedz again, when he saw my distress. "Don't worry! You can still be of great service to us, even if you are lame. We have long wanted to add to our number just such a cripple."

Then he summoned a sturdy, broad-shouldered robber and bade him take me on his back and in this fashion I journeyed with the band, the stronger members taking turns in carrying me.

When we arrived at Oezakover forest, where we halted to rest, the leader said to me:

"You will leave us here, Baran, and hobble to Berdiczov as best you can. I want you to spy out the situation there for us and get all the information you can. Then you will return to the cavern and on the news you bring will depend our plans of attack; I propose to capture the monastery."

The extraordinary success of the Mohilow expedition had made our leader so arrogant that, because he had, with three-hundred men vanquished two-thousand, half of whom were armed, he now aspired to nothing of less importance than a garrisoned castle.

And the wedge with which he proposed to force an entrance was my crippled leg!

From near and far—from distant lands even, all manner of crippled folk, and invalids afflicted with divers maladies, journeyed to Berdiczov in search of healing. The indigent limped and hobbled on crutches to the miracle-working spot; the well-to-do rode on mules; the peasant was trundled in a barrow by his sturdy spouse; the tradesman travelled in his two-wheeled ox-cart; and the magnate was borne in his sedan-chair by his servants.

Berdiczov monastery was the property of the Premonstrant monks. It stood on an elevation in the center of a charming valley. It was strongly fortified, and surrounded by thick walls, which were protected outside by a deep moat and palisades.

A thermal spring at the foot of the hill fed the moat and turned the wheels of a grist mill. The only entrance to the monastery was over a narrow drawbridge that spanned the moat at its deepest part. The multitude of visitors to the healing spring found lodgings in the little village outside the walls of the monastery; and only one hundred worshippers at a time were permitted to enter the chapel inside the gates. If the crowd gathered at the drawbridge at the hour for services exceeded that number then mass was celebrated all day long, one hundred of the faithful entering at one door, as the hundred that had worshipped passed out by the other. Day and night guards armed to the teeth patrolled the walls and the court-yard; and no visitor was allowed to enter with weapons of any sort, for enormous wealth lay heaped within the walls of the monastery. When I saw the heaps on heaps of valuables in the treasure-chamber, I no longer wondered that Nyedzviedz desired to possess it. There was a massive altar of pure silver, the gift of King Stanislaus; golden alms basins, engraved with the name and history of the donor, Count Leszinsky; images of saints with mosaics of priceless gems; golden chalices; shrines glittering with rubies and diamonds; gemmed thuribles; antique crowns which had once adorned crania twice the size of the heads of our day; costly reliquaries; and, amid all this splendor, countless numbers of crutches and staves, the votive offerings of the afflicted who had found healing in the waters of the spring.

The crutches and staves were the first objects to attract my eye, and I said to myself: "How gladly would I add to this collection the old Turk's koltuk-dengenegi with all its gold, could I but find healing for my crippled leg."

When the choral began, I can't describe the feeling which took possession of me as I listened to the beautiful melody. I had no thought then for the treasures of gold and silver—no glance for anything but the image of the saint above the altar. I could not escape from the reproachful eyes it fixed on me. I felt that it was reading all the wicked thoughts in my breast. But, as I listened to the beautiful music, all the evil intentions I had brought with me to the monastery faded from my heart; and when the last sounds died away, there was not, in all the devout company, a more bitterly repentant wretch than I. When the service was concluded, the worshippers passed in front of the prior to receive his benediction. The prior was a venerable saint with a flowing white beard; his countenance expressed infinite goodness and benevolence.

We had been told not to offer any gifts to the monks on entering the monastery; but to leave whatever we might think fit to bestow, on departing.

The venerable prior dispensed his blessing to all alike. He did not inquire if the recipient were a believer, or a heretic. Christians, Jews, Mohammedans, all alike, received the godly man's benediction.

I quitted the chapel wholly repentant. I had completely forgotten the errand on which I had been sent. Not once did it occur to me that I was there as a spy, to examine the walls, the mortars, to learn the strength of the garrison.

I took my place in the procession of cripples, and hobbled along with them, mumbling the prayers prescribed for us.

When we arrived at the miracle-working spring, I and my fellow-sufferers were undressed and placed on rafts in the water—rich and poor alike, no distinction was made between the magnate and the beggar.

I can't say exactly how long I remained in the water; but when I came out, the crook had left my leg, it was straight and sound as before I came into possession of the old Turk's crutch.

"Miraculum! Miraculum!" shouted the entire company; while I wept like a little child, for joy and gratitude.

With my crutch over my shoulder, instead of under it I returned to the prior, who received me with a benignant smile.

I knelt at his feet and asked him to receive my confession. I told him every thing; that I was there at the behest of the haidemaken leader to spy out the strength of the fortifications and the garrison; that the band was preparing to assault the monastery, so soon as they should hear from me; that they intended to bring with them a powerful field-gun, with which to force a breach in the walls through which the four-hundred fearless robbers would enter and overpower the soldiery. When I had concluded, and the prior had given me absolution, he said:

"Now, my son, go back to those who sent you here and tell them what you have learned. Let them come with their field-gun, and do you come with them. When you are ordered to bombard the walls, do you obey—"

"What? father;" I interrupted in astonishment. "You advise me to do that?"

"Yes. On the bombardier depends the effect of the bombardment! It rests with him to aim well, or ill! Better you at the gun than another!"

I understood the sagacious reply, and said:

"I shall take good care not to aim well, father."

"On you, my son, will it depend that the relief troops I shall send for reach here in time to save us from the robbers."

"And you may rest assured, father, that I shall know how to prolong the siege!"

As a pledge that I would keep faith with him I gave him my crutch, gratitude also prompting the gift, for, not even a gold-filled crutch is too great a price to pay for a sound leg!

"I will keep it for you, my son," said the benevolent sage. "If you succeed in averting the danger which threatens us you shall have the crutch back, and something in addition—something of more value than gold: aid to reform. Take this image of the Holy Virgin to your wife with my blessing."

A changed man at heart, I returned to the cavern, where, however, I was forced again to tell untruths, in order to deceive the robbers. But it was for a good cause.

My comrades received me with gratulatory shouts when they saw me walking on two healthy legs. I told them I had been healed by magic—by the incantations of a witch, and they believed me! Had I told the truth, and that I had received the blessing of the prior, it would have made them suspicious.

We now held a council of war, at which I delivered my report. I knew from experience that, to gain credence for a lie, one must invest it with a modicum of truth. Therefore, I described, without deviating one iota from the truth, the treasures I had seen, and even added to them—as, for instance: I said there were barrels filled with gold and silver, which made the robbers' mouths water. Nyedzviedz was full of ambitious plans. He intended, so soon as he got money enough, to combine under his leadership all the predatory bands in the Carpathian region, and with them invade and plunder the wealthy Galician cities, castles, and monasteries. He felt confident that the common people would be glad to aid in plundering the prelates and nobles.

I described the fortifications of Berdiczov monastery as almost impregnable, when the truth was, that I could, with the culverin, have battered down the walls the first day while the rusty old mortars would do little damage among the beleaguerers. I ascribed to the prior the strategic talents of a field-marshall. My description of the moat, with the formidable palisades concealed under the water, quite discouraged the robbers from the plan they had made to swim across it, and storm the walls.

Indeed, I told such astounding tales about the powder mines under the walls and moat, that their confidence in me became absolute when I sketched my plan of assault. I proposed to batter the fortifications in such a manner, that the debris would fall into and fill up the moat, which would enable us to cross it without injury, and enter through the breaches I had made in the walls. I won the leader's favor and approval to such an extent that he committed the entire conduct of the important expedition into my hands.

At the conclusion of the council, I asked as a special favor to be allowed to spend a day with my beloved Madus before we set out on the expedition.

Nyedzviedz at first was unwilling to consent. "I know," he said, "just how women-folk are. It is best for a soldier to have nothing to do with them. Their tears are sure to melt a soft heart."

But I persisted in my request, and at last received permission to visit the Viszpa Ogrod.

It was a beautiful autumn afternoon when I descended the steep path to the secluded valley. While yet some distance from our little cottage, I heard my Madus singing sweetly—I can hear her now, and see her as she came joyfully to meet me.

How happy she was!

The poor child believed I had come to stop, and as I did not want to cloud her joy, I put off until the moment of my departure, telling her that I was again to accompany her father on a distant expedition.

One day at least I would spend happily. So, I let my Madus tell me all that had happened in the valley during my absence; I heard also how much dried fruit, how many smoked trout, how many cheeses, she had in store for the winter; how many yards of beautiful linen she had woven from the flax she had cultivated with her own hands.

Last of all, she exhibited, with blushing cheeks, her little treasures: cunning little caps, and jackets, at sight of which my heart leapt for joy in my bosom. She confided to me in a whisper that, when Christmas should arrive, her Bethlehem crib would have received its occupant.

Oh, how gladly would I have remained with her! But it could not be. I had more ambitious plans for her. I was bent on escaping with her to the great world, where she should—as she deserved—become a fine lady.

After she had told me everything about herself, she asked me to relate what I had done while absent. When I told her how successful the expedition had proved, I found that the Madus who tended her doves and made cheeses in the Viszpa Ogrod, was vastly different from the Madus who had once accompanied the haidemaken expeditions. She grew pale with horror when I described the slaughter of the caravan; and the occurrence which resulted in my becoming the inheritor of the old Turk's crutch, and a lame leg. She became more composed, however, when I told her about the marvelous cure at the healing spring; and quite recovered her composure when I gave her the image of the Holy Virgin the prior had sent her. Ah me! that image was her death, as well as her salvation.

The next morning I told her I had to leave her again. She sought with tears and caresses to dissuade me from going. She clasped her arms around my neck, then flung herself at my feet, and clasped my knees—she seemed unable to control her wild despair.

I have often thought since that the poor child had a presentiment she would never again behold me in this life.

I sought in vain to comfort her; in vain I assured her that I would never leave her again after I returned from this expedition, from which I hoped to secure what would enable me to establish a home for her in some large city. She was inconsolable.

She accompanied me to the entrance to the rock-corridor, and would have gone clear to the cavern, had not her father met us just as we were entering the passage. He frightened her by saying it would be unsafe to venture among the haidemaken in her condition, as all robbers entertained the superstitious belief that the fourth finger from the hand of an unborn babe rendered the possessor invulnerable to bullet and sword.

Nyedzviedz would not even allow a last embrace, but thrust us roughly apart; and forced me to precede him into the corridor. I kept looking back from time to time, so long as the entrance remained in sight. My Madus stood, looking after me, in the circular opening of the rocky wall; she seemed like a saint encompassed by a halo of light, and as the corridor grew darker and more gloomy the radiant image at my back increased in brilliance until a sudden turn hid the beautiful vision from my sight.

That same evening we set out for Berdiczov—four-hundred haidemaken, with the culverin.

CHRISTMAS.

It was early Autumn when we began the siege, which I conducted in so skillful—from my point of view!—a manner, that December found us still outside the walls of the monastery. Three times I changed the position of our assaulting forces; but took good care every time to select a point far enough from the walls to prevent our shots from damaging them to any considerable extent.

Nyedzviedz kept urging me to a nearer approach: he said we were so distant, that the cannon-balls from the fortifications had to roll over the ground to reach our lines. So, one day, after he had examined the ground, and discovered what he believed to be a more advantageous position, I was forced, in order not to rouse his suspicions, to comply with his request. While superintending the throwing up of intrenchments the first night I managed to secrete under the earth-works a keg of powder, and in the morning I told the leader that extreme caution would be necessary, now that we were so much nearer to the fortifications, as the monks were having powder-mines laid under our breast-works. I had heard peculiar noises during the night, I told him, and, suspecting what was being done, I had scattered a few peas on the head of a drum standing on the ground. The lively dancing of the peas had convinced me that my suspicions were correct.

But the leader was incredulous. He decided to take observations for himself; and would spend the following night in the trenches, when he could also watch the result of our bombardment. This would make it impossible for me to carry out my plans for exploding the keg of powder hidden in the breast-works. But, I was not to be outdone. I happened to remember an expedient I had once employed with success, and resorted to it again: I drew the fuse through a long reed, one end of which I thrust into the keg.

I had to be very cautious; for Nyedzviedz had a nose that could smell a match cord at long range; but with the fuse inside the reed, I could prevent the fumes from getting into the range of his olfactor.

The powder exploded at the right moment, just when the leader was bending eagerly over the breast-work to peer after a bomb. After the smoke and dust cleared away, I drew him from under the heap of earth, from which only his legs protruded. He had not been injured in the least, but all desire to assault the enemy at so close a range had fled, and I was allowed to return to our former position, on the brow of a hill, a considerable distance farther from the fortifications.

I consoled the dissatisfied haidemaken with the assurance that, when the real cold weather of winter should set in, the moat would freeze over; then it would be an easy matter to storm the walls at close range. I did not think it necessary to tell them that the warm spring would prevent the water in the moat from freezing. In the meantime came Christmas—an anxiously longed-for day in many respects. With the dawn of Christmas morning came a furious snow-storm, the north wind flinging down on us such masses of flakes that it was impossible to see ten steps away.

It was just the sort of weather I had calculated on. The bombardment had to cease, as the monastery was completely hidden from view behind the veil of snow. The haidemaken retired to their tents, and amused themselves, gaming with dice and cards, for what stakes do you imagine? They had no money, remember! Why, the winner paid, and the loser received, a box on the ear! I hadn't any fondness for the game myself; but my comrades seemed to enjoy it hugely.

While gaming, drinking, cursing, were going on in the other tents, I sat in my own, alone, and silent, pondering over my past years. I recalled the different anniversaries of the blessed day, beginning with the first I could remember when, held in my mother's arms, I removed from the Christmas-tree my first ginger-bread doll, which I was loath to eat because of its beautiful golden hue.

Then, my thoughts turned to the humble cot in the Viszpa Ogrod; and I wondered, with a strange trembling in my bosom, if the little Bethlehem crib, my Madus had prepared for the reception of a precious occupant, now held its treasure.

The monastery bells were ringing for the Christmas service; on the bastion a long procession of monks with innumerable lamps was moving toward the chapel.

The wind was driving the clouds across the sky, and hundreds of witch-forms rioted above the camp, in the faint light which came from a mist-veiled moon.

The snow-fall had ceased; only the wind, which was scattering the storm-clouds, still swept with unabated vigor across the plain, packing the fine snow more compactly together.

Suddenly, amid the noise of carousing and shouting which came from the neighboring tents, I heard a sound that made me drop quickly to my knees, and lay my ear close to the ground. At last! At last! They were coming! I could hear distinctly the hoof-beats, when they crossed the rocky road from which the wind had swept the snow. Then, the sound ceased—they were come to the plain where the snow muffled the noise of the hoofs. Duke Visznovieczky's dragoons were approaching at a brisk trot to the assistance of Berdiczov monastery.

I did not wait for them to come up. In the dark all cows are black! I said to myself: "It will be useless to try to convince the dragoon who raises his sword against me that I am this one, and not the other one!" So I wrapped myself in my mantle, slipped from the tent, and ran fleetly toward the monastery.

When I paused to look back, after the relief troop had begun the attack on the robber camp, I saw the witch-dance I had seen earlier, it had descended to the earth, and with it was joined a tumult of demons; of black forms, and white, darting hither and thither; of furious sword cuts; frenzied cries; mad flight, and swift pursuit!

The early morning assault was successful. The dragoons routed the haidemaken without a shot. What became of my comrades I cannot say, for I continued on my way to the monastery, where I shouted myself hoarse before the draw-bridge was lowered to admit me.

Early mass had just been concluded. The monks with their tall candlesticks, chanting a psalm of praise, led the procession returning from the chapel; the cripples hobbling in the rear, hummed the antiphony. But, hei! didn't the devout company break ranks quickly when I appeared before them with the announcement:

"Duke Visznovieczky's dragoons are come, and have attacked the haidemaken camp!"

The psalm-singing ceased at once; and, instead, everybody was shouting: "To arms! To arms!"

Even the canopy-bearers left the prior in the middle of the court-yard, and ran to fetch their arms; while the cripples hopped about on one leg and brandished their crutches and staves.

By this time we could see that the beleaguerers were fleeing before the dragoons in every direction. The valiant burgers who, at the beginning of the siege, had taken refuge in the monastery, could now no longer repress their heroic feelings. Seizing whatever would serve as a weapon, the brave fellows dashed across the draw-bridge and sped toward the field of battle; the reverend fathers followed at a more dignified pace; the cripples brought up the rear, and assisted the worthy burgers to complete the work of destruction begun by the dragoons, by cutting off the feet of those haidemaken who had already been decapitated.

Whether Nyedzviedz had succeeded in escaping the fate of many of his comrades, I could not learn then; nor did I care! I was too thankful that I had been spared from destruction and delivered from the clutch of the robber-band. Therewith ended my career as a haidemak.

The prisoner here paused in his confession, feeling that he, as well as the court, needed a rest.

"I am inclined to believe," observed the prince, "that the accused rehabilitated himself through his valiant act. So much as he sinned, so much he made good! He was healed by a miracle of God; therefore, it behooves us earthly judges to consider well before we pass sentence where the Heavenly Judge granted absolution."

To this the chair, with obvious irritation, made reply: "If your highness intends to permit this malefactor to extenuate, in a like manner, all the rest of his misdeeds, when he gets to the end of the list we shall feel that he deserves canonization instead of punishment."

PART III.
IN THE SERVICE OF THE DUKE.

CHAPTER I.
MALACHI.

The next day the prisoner continued his confession:

My experience at Berdiczov monastery, my deliverance from destruction, as well as the miraculous restoration of my crippled limb, decided me to adopt the faith of the holy brotherhood.

Their solemn ceremonies, their elevating devotions, their piety, made a deep impression on me; but the most comforting to me of all their rites was that of the confessional.

It was such a comfort to unbosom myself to one in whom I could trust implicitly; to confide in him all the secrets that tortured my dreams by night, and my thoughts by day. And then, to receive absolution—to get back, as it were, the bond I had given to Satan!

One day was not long enough for all I had to tell. I could have spent every day of the week in the confessional, pouring into the ear of the good Father Agapitus the sins which burdened my conscience. And one day I confessed, too, that I was becoming weary of the life in the monastery, where there was nothing to do but tend to the sick all day long; and that I wanted to go back to the world—if not to my former sinful life.

After I had confessed, I ventured to ask the worthy father to recommend me to some Polish noble, with whom I should have little work and much amusement. There were many such places, I said, where the services of a man of my stamp were required.

"My dear son," returned the worthy father, "I cannot recommend you to a Christian man of the world, for, although I could tell him that you are a pious confrater now, I could not say that you have always been honest. I know just the contrary, and I cannot give false witness. But I will do what I can for you. Here is the crutch you left with us—the gold is still in it. Take it, garb yourself in beggar raiment, and limp to Lemberg, where lives a Master Malachi in the Jewish quarter of the city. You need only to inquire for him, and you will be directed to his house. He is a wicked man, in league with Satan. He deserves to have been sent to the scaffold long ago—and he will get there should the Inquisition be established. Malachi is the man for your needs. Tell him what you require, he will understand you—especially if you tell him what your crutch contains!"

I could understand clearly that a pious man like Father Agapitus could do nothing for me—so notorious a sinner! He could not give me a letter of recommendation, with false dates; it was enough if he directed me where to find an accomplished counterfeiter, who could supply my wants. So, I kissed his hand in gratitude; bade him farewell, and, with my crutch under my shoulder, set out for Lemberg, begging my way so that no one should suspect that I carried in my crutch the wherewith to pay for food and lodging.

When I arrived in Lemberg I repaired at once to the Jews' quarter, where the streets are so narrow two wagons cannot pass one another. Directly I entered the principal thoroughfare, which seemed a veritable rag-fair from one end to the other, I was surrounded by a swarm of noisy children.

I took from my pocket a denarius, held it up before them, and said I would give it to the lad who would conduct me to the house of Malachi, whereupon the youngsters began to quarrel as to which of them should become the possessor of the coin. The largest scamp among them, who succeeded by force of his superior size and strength to vanquish his fellows, offered himself as guide.

He led me a pretty chase, through numerous byways and alleys, where there was hardly room for two persons to pass, to a shop in front of which was sitting an aged dame, with her cap drawn down to her eyebrows.

Said my guide, after I had placed the denarius in his hand:

"This woman knows where Malachi lives—she will tell you;" and before I could stop him, the little rascal was off down the street as fast as his legs could carry him.

I turned to the crone, who kept nodding her old head as if she were assenting to anything I might say to her, took from my pocket a Marien-groschen, and holding it toward her, said:

"Here, mother, this pretty coin shall be yours if you will direct me to Malachi's house."

She nodded—as much as to say "very good;" rose from her chair, shuffled into the shop, where she filled a small vial with red Polish brandy. This she handed to me with one hand, at the same time extending the other for the money.

"I don't want brandy—I want to know where Malachi lives?" I shouted at the top of my voice.

The dame trotted back into the shop and brought a bottle of green Russian brandy.

The little scamp had left me to deal with a deaf woman! When I bawled into her ear for the third time the name of Malachi, she fetched from the shop a packet of insect powder which she offered in exchange for the Marien-groschen.

Then I bethought me of an expedient which is usually successful in like cases: I took from my pocket a crown and held it toward the dame. This cure for deafness proved effective.

"Oh, you want to find Malachi?" she said in a cautious whisper, nodding understandingly. "Follow me."

She closed and locked the shop-door, opened a little gate at the corner of the house, led me across a vegetable garden hung with soiled clothes; across a second; thence through a narrow passage, between two old buildings, into a wood-shed; from there into a cellar; then over a swinging bridge across an ill-smelling canal; and, lastly, through a long, seemingly interminable corridor, at the end of which she knocked with her staff at a wooden door, at the same time whispering in my ear, and taking the crown from my hand:

"I can't tell you where Malachi lives; but I have brought you to the thaumaturgus, who knows everything; he will tell you where to find Malachi."

The door opened, and I saw before me a venerable man with silvery hair and beard. He was blind. His tall form was enveloped in a black silk robe girt about the waist by an oriental sash. From his garb, I concluded that a coin of greater value would be necessary to procure the information I desired.

"Are you the man who knows everything?" I inquired.

The old gentleman was not in the least chary of words. With great readiness he declared that he understood the language of the birds of the air; the speech of the beasts of the field; that he could converse with dragons; could discover subterranean springs; could tell any man whether or no he was the son of his father; could even understand the tongue in which demons spake—

"But," I interrupted, "I don't want to know any of these things. If you will tell me where Malachi lives, I will pay for the information."

"Ah, my son!" he responded, turning his sightless eyes heavenward; "that is a difficult question to answer. There are in this world as many Malachis as there are flowers in the field, and stars in the sky. There are seventy-seven in this very city; a Malachi Mizraim; a Malachi Meschugge; a Malachi Choschen; Malachi Pinkas; Malachi Honnowas—How do I know which Malachi you want?"

"I want the one who is a—counterfeiter," I answered, with some hesitation.

"Ah, my son!" again ejaculated the venerable sage, shaking his head sadly, "how sorry I am to hear that you are on such evil ways! All the Malachis with whom I have to do are honest, God-fearing men."

I saw plainly that I should have to assist the old gentleman's memory; I pressed a gold coin into his palm. He turned it over and over in his fingers; tested it in various ways; and, after convincing himself that it was genuine, he delivered this apothegmatic solution of the riddle:

"My son, he whom you seek, I cannot find. I have never seen him—I am blind. We will consult the Miracle."

He stepped back into the room, to the table, where he groped about with his hands among the different objects, until he found a long steel needle. This he thrust between the leaves of a heavy book lying on the table, opened it, and placing his forefinger at the point of the needle, where it rested on the page, said, in a prophetic tone:

"He whom the Miracle designates is Ben Malachi Peixoto, the Portuguese—not I, but the Miracle says so."

"And where shall I find this Portuguese?" I asked.

"When you go from the door of my dwelling, you will find his directly opposite. Knock twice, then once, then twice again, and you will be admitted. And now, my son, go your way in peace!"

A stocky youth, with a candle, conducted me down a dark stairway, opened the door, and I found myself in the same street from which I had started on my quest. Malachi's house was the first one on the corner. I had been led a tramp, for half a day, hither and thither, up and down, through the entire Ghetto, to reach the first house in it!

I knocked on the door as I had been directed; it was opened by a quince-colored lad. I cannot say for certain whether it was a lad or a lass, I think, though, it was a lad. I could not understand the language he spoke—indeed, I don't believe it was a language at all! He conducted me up a creaking staircase, into a darkened room, in the corner of which crouched a human form with its back to the door. He did not turn at my entrance, but kept his face turned from me all the time I was in the room.

In front of him was a mirror in which he could see my reflection. The fleeting glimpse I caught of his face in the glass, told me that the mysterious creature had no beard; his face was quite smooth, which I believe is the fashion among Portuguese Jews; it had been embrocated with orpiment, which eats off the hair of the beard—a Mosaic law prohibiting the use of metal to remove hair from the face.

"Is Malachi at home?" I inquired.

"Malachi is at home; what do you want of him?"

The man spoke in the third person, so that I could not have sworn that he to whom I addressed my inquiries was Malachi or not.

"I will tell you my errand as briefly as possible," said I. "I want to secure a position in the household of Duke Visznovieczky, and require a patent of nobility to certify to my noble birth. I also want an academic testimonial; a certificate of baptism and confirmation in the Roman Catholic Church; and, lastly, I want a letter of recommendation from some grand duke or other, which testifies to my erudition, and skill in all the sciences, as well as to my excellent character. Of course I don't expect you to furnish me with all these documents for nothing. I am willing to pay your price for them. How much do you ask?"

The man replied to my reflection in the mirror: "Malachi's answer to your insolent request is: You have applied to the wrong person. Malachi does not meddle with such criminal doings. Moreover, Malachi has nothing whatever to do with ragged beggars like yourself. If you desire to become such a knight as you describe, and have the money to pay for the transformation, go to Malachi's cousin, Malchus, the tailor, who sells gentlemen's clothing. He lives on the corner of Bethel street, beside the fountain. From him you can buy all manner of fine raiment. Malchus will transform you to a noble knight—if you have the money to pay for it. And now be gone from here, and don't come back again, for Malachi is an honest man whose lips do not utter falsehoods; his fingers have never been stained with the ink of forgery."

Firmly believing that he was the Malachi I sought, I departed from his house with a disappointed heart, and betook myself to Bethel street, to the house beside the fountain, where I found Malchus the tailor. I would at least exchange my beggar's garb for the raiment of a gentleman.

"How glad I am to see your lordship again!" exclaimed the little man, as I stepped into his door. "May I become as the dust of the street, if it doesn't seem a hundred years since I saw you last! But, does your lordship imagine I could fail to recognize the noble knight Zdenko Kochanovszki, who, in fulfillment of a vow, journeyed on foot, and garbed as a pilgrim, to Jerusalem and back? Have not I, Malchus the tailor, eyes to see? I'll wager my head against a button, that nobody but myself would recognize your lordship in those ragged garments. Could the beautiful Persida, from whom your lordship received the magnificent wreath at the tournament, see you now, she would say: 'Give this ragged beggar a penny, and drive him away.' She is a duchess now, the wife of the powerful Duke Visznovieczki. But I have not forgotten your lordship; I still have the clothes your lordship left in pledge with me—also the embroidered leather-belt with the bag containing the documents. I kept them all, safely concealed, for I knew your lordship, the brave and noble Zdenko Kochanovszki, would return from the holy land and redeem his pledge."

I saw at once that I should have to accept the personality thrust upon me by the loquacious little tailor, and call myself Zdenko Kochanovszki; and when I found how admirably the puissant knight's cast-off garments fitted me, I no longer hesitated to take possession of his name also.

And that is how I became Zdenko Kochanovszki. When I was completely garbed—and a stately mazar, I looked in the knight's habiliments!—I asked Malchus what was to pay.

"Why, surely your lordship remembers the sum I advanced on the clothes? Of course, I did not count in the loan the jeweled clasps your lordship desired to be sent to the beautiful Persida; so you owe me only a round hundred ducats—"

"A hundred ducats?" I repeated in consternation. "Why there isn't in all Poland a waywode who can boast of so costly a suit of clothes."

Malchus smiled slyly: "That is very true, my lord, and there is not in all Poland a magnate who can boast of more valuable documents than those in the bag attached to your lordship's leather-belt. When your lordship left them with me and charged me to care for them as for the apple of my eye, I knew they must be of great importance. So I have kept them safely concealed all these years. I don't know what the papers contain as I can read only what I write with my own hand. I don't understand Latin, or Greek; and I don't know how to read from left to right; consequently your lordship may believe me when I say I have not read the papers. Your lordship will find everything in the bag just as when it was placed in my hands for safe keeping."

I opened the bag, and, on examining the documents, found to my surprise and delight that they were just what I wanted. There was a patent of nobility, with a Turk's head in the crest—(concerning the Turk's head I might justly have appropriated it for my own escutcheon, only I had not come into possession of it on the battlefield!) There was also an academic certificate, from the Rector of Sarbonne, with the baccalaureate degree; also certificates of baptism and confirmation, signed by the bishop of Cracow; a testimonial of valor from the imperial commander-in-chief, Montecucculi; and a pardon from the patriarch of Jerusalem—such as are bestowed on pilgrims to the Holy Sepulchre—all of which were the property of Zdenko Kochanovszki—who I was!

Malchus continued to smile slyly while I was examining the documents, and when I had read the last one he said:

"Doesn't your lordship think these handsome clothes are worth one hundred ducats?"

I gave him a hearty slap on the back; then counted out a "round hundred ducats." The clothes were not worth one-tenth that sum, but I was quite satisfied with my purchase.

I was now fully equipped for my entrance to the ducal palace; as Zdenko Kochanovszki I might without hesitation seek admittance anywhere.

He to whom the name rightly belonged had disappeared eight years before, and had most likely lost his life in the Holy Land, or in the battle with the infidels in Hungary. Whoever still remembered the beardless youth, would not wonder at the great change eight years of hardship and danger had made in him; and would expect to find the man a different looking person from the boy. As for my looks—I doubt if my own mother would have recognized me.

The duke was an old man, of a girth so enormous that he was obliged to wear a broad surcingle as support to his rotund paunch. His hair and beard were gray on the right side, but black on the left, which gave him a very peculiar appearance.

When I presented myself before him, he seized both my hands, and exclaimed:

"What! Zdenko Kochanovszki back again? The devil! What a man you are grown! Do you remember what we did at parting?"

I was confused for a moment: how was I to remember what I had never known? However, I had to reply, so I stammered what I thought the most probable:

"We drank to each other, your grace."

"By heaven, you are right, lad! That is what we did! But, do you also remember our wager?"

I ventured another guess, and answered:

"Each wagered he could drink the other under the table."

"Ha, ha, ha! Right—right!" shouted his grace, embracing and kissing me. "That's what we wagered—and the devil fly away with me if I don't match you again this very moment! Ho, there, fetch the bratina."

The bratina is a huge golden beaker that holds two quarts. This was brought to me, filled with Hegyaljaner wine.

Now, I had fasted for many hours, and was both hungry and thirsty, so that it did not require much of an effort on my part to empty the bratina at a draught—to the supernaculum!

"The devil fetch me!" roared the jovial duke. "If I had not recognized you already, I should know you now!"

I had no difficulty drinking his grace under the table; and from that hour I became an important member of his household.

CHAPTER II.
PERSIDA.

"Crimen falsi," dictated the chair to the notary.

"But"—the prince made haste to add—"But, immediatum, not spontaneum. The accused was led to the indirect committal of the act by the instructions of Father Agapitus; the real criminal is a Jew—it is he who deserves the stake. Therefore, the prisoner's transgression may be remitted."

"If this continues," grumblingly commented the chair, "the prisoner will surely talk himself out of every one of his crimes. Well"—addressing himself to the accused—"I don't know what to call you, but for the time being Zdenko Kochanovszki, continue."

Under that name, your honor, resumed Hugo, I lived the most memorable days of my life. I was treated by the duke as a good comrade and familiar friend. We hunted together for days in the ducal forests slaying the wild bulls and bears by the hundreds; and when we returned to the palace the merry-making began. There would be feasting and drinking; the most enchanting music by a band of Bohemian players; the court-fools would amuse us with all sorts of buffoonery; and when any of the jovial company succumbed to the beaker and tumbled under the table the attendants carried them to bed. Not infrequently it happened that his grace and myself would be the only two left at the table—we being able to stand more than the others.

At times, too, I would entertain the company by relating the most wonderful tales of my pilgrimage, which were listened to with close attention.

In all this time I had not seen a single woman about the palace.

The grand-duchess was absent on a pilgrimage to Berdiczov, in fulfillment of a vow. I learned from one of the guests that the duke's marriage had not been blessed with an heir, and this was why the duchess had undertaken the devout journey. As she knew she should be absent several weeks, she took with her all the women servants, as well as her ladies-in-waiting—from which I guessed the fair Persida to be a shrewd, as well as a beautiful woman.

I waited her grace's return with no little apprehension, for, with the exception of the grand duke himself, every one about the palace knew that Zdenko Kochanovszki had been a devoted admirer of the lady before her marriage. Indeed, it was said that her marriage to the rich old duke had sent the youthful Zdenko on his pilgrimage.

That all this was unknown to his grace was certain, else the reception accorded to me, whom he believed to be his former boon companion, would not have been so cordial.

There would be some sport when the lady returned home.

Would she, too, see in me her quondam admirer? What would happen to me if the eyes of a loving woman should prove more keen than those of her husband? What would be the result if she saw through my masquerade? If she should say: "Away with this rogue—he is a deceiver! I know what dwells in the eyes of the true Zdenko, for I have looked into them. These are not Zdenko's eyes."

And again: what would happen if she should believe me to be her one-time lover? and question me as her husband had done: "Do you remember the promise we gave to each other?" And, suppose I should be as lucky in guessing the reply as before!

The duke spoke boastfully of his dragoon's victory over the haidemaken before the walls of Berdiczov monastery. The robbers had been mowed down like grain; only the leader and a few of his men had escaped by the skin of their teeth; their field-gun had been captured and the gunner hanged on one of the tallest trees—your honors may guess that I took good care not to deny this statement!

I praised the duke's heroism, and listened attentively to his tales about the terrible haidemaken, as if I had never heard of them before.

At last, one fine day, the pilgrims returned from Berdiczov; and the joyous sound of women's voices was heard in the palace. Master and man hastened to welcome the fair ones. I alone had no one to greet.

I was very curious to see what manner of woman the beautiful Persida might be—she for whose sake the owner of my name had gone out into the wide world.

The duke hastened to assist her from the carriage on the arrival of the caravan. She was very graceful—tall, with a pale face, large, dark languishing eyes, full red lips, and coal black hair.

When her spouse pressed his moist moustache to her lips, she made a grimace. He was overjoyed at her return. The duke's guests and attendants welcomed the returned duchess, each in their own fashion; the former pressed their lips to her hand; the latter kissed the hem of her robe. I did not want my first meeting with her grace to take place in the presence of the entire household; but the duke called me from the hall, where I had withdrawn, and said:

"See here, my love, who is this? Look at him, and tell me if you recognize the lad?"

I was afraid to meet the glance which scrutinized my features—I felt that I should be compelled to blurt out:

"I am Baran, gunner of the haidemaken."

"You don't recognize him, do you?" again said the duke. "I knew you wouldn't. 'Tis our long absent comrade Zdenko Kochanovszki."

For one single instant I saw into that woman's soul. At mention of my name, a sudden light leapt into her eyes—a world of passion flamed for one brief instant.

Her husband had not seen it, only I. Then the beautiful eyes became cold again, and indifferent, and the queenly head was gravely bent in recognition of an old acquaintance, the slender fingers were extended for the formal kiss of greeting.

She did not vouchsafe another glance toward me, but turned toward the duke, laid her hand on his arm, and said with sudden friendliness:

"Comment vous portez-vous, mon petit drôle?"

Although her grace took no further notice of me, I saw my way clear for the future.

With the return of the duchess the household regulations underwent a complete change. The noisy tipplers received their congé; the nightly carousals came to an end. Quite a different mode of life had been prescribed by the prior of the monastery for the ducal pair, if they wished his blessing to have the desired effect. All fast days were to be strictly observed; they might eat only sparingly of the plainest food—only of those dishes which conduce to strength: snails, frogs, and those vegetables which grow under ground.

This sort of diet, as you may guess, was not suited to the palates of the duke's guests. One after another took his departure, until none remained but myself; and I had become indispensable to his grace, because of my ability to amuse him with adventurous tales.

Every evening the duchess would send for me to read aloud in a religious book, about saints, until the duke would become sleepy. Her grace continued to treat me with extreme reserve; she never lifted her eyes to mine when she spoke to me, but always kept them lowered, as if she were addressing her remarks to my boots.

She appeared to be extraordinarily pious; she would repeat a long prayer before and at the end of every meal. She never called me by name—always "Sir." Indeed, the only time she unbent from her frigid reserve, was, when she patted her husband's fat, bearded cheek, or pulled his moustache, to restore him to a good humor; but these occasions were rare.

Before the duke retired for the night, the duchess prepared with her own fair hands his slumber draught, the recipe for which she had received from the prior of Berdiczov monastery. It was composed of all sorts of costly spices—an enumeration of which I may repeat later, should I take up the trade of concocting various potations, the efficacy of which may not be doubted.

The chief ingredient of the duke's sleeping potion was hot, red wine; and he was wont to smack his lips and exclaim after he had emptied the glass:

"Ah!—my love, that has quite rejuvenated me." He would spring lightly as a youth from his arm-chair, take his wife's hand, and gallantly conduct her to their private chambers, leaving me to the solitary perusal of the pious volume—to learn what had happened to St. Genevieve, when Attila's Huns besieged Paris.

One evening we were engaged as usual with our instructive reading. The duke and his wife were seated in front of the fire-place; I, as always, occupied a chair at the table on which rested the ponderous "History of the Saints and Martyrs." I had been reading for an hour and more, how St. Genevieve had relieved Paris a second time from famine, when the duke suddenly interrupted to say he was so thirsty he must beg that his nightly potion be given to him at once. His wife prepared it for him; but, instead of rising to retire to his own rooms as usual, after he had emptied the glass, he settled himself back in his chair, clasped his hands over his paunch, and in a few minutes his powerful snoring again interrupted the reading.

The duchess looked at him for several moments with an indescribable expression on her lovely face—a mixture of loathing, rage, and contempt; then, she sprang to her feet, came swiftly toward the table where I was sitting, and gave it so vigorous a thrust with her foot that it toppled over and fell, together with the Saints and Martyrs, to the floor with a loud noise. His grace did not stir; his snores continued with unabated vigor.

Before I had recovered from my astonishment at her grace's behavior, she seated herself on my knee and flung her arms around my neck:

"So you have come back to me, Zdenko? Tell me, do you still love me?" she asked in a passionate whisper, at the same time making it impossible for me to reply—

"Stop!" here interrupted the chair: "I don't quite understand how that could be?"

"I do," promptly, and succinctly interposed the prince. "Continue, prisoner, what happened next?"

I hardly know how to tell it, your highness. It was like a dream of paradise! I knew that every kiss I received and returned was deceit, robbery, sacrilege; I knew I was cheating the house which sheltered me; the master of the house who fed me; the unknown man whose name I bore—the woman—God—the devil—all—all. And yet, were you to ask me what I should do were I to be placed in the same situation again, I should reply: "Just what I did then—and if it cost me my life!"

"Hardened reprobate!" exclaimed the chair in a tone of reprimand. Then he dictated to the notary: "Adulterium cum stellionatum—"

"But," hastily interposed the prince, "he did not begin it. In this case, as in that of Father Adam: the woman was to blame. The prisoner will continue."

I know it was a great crime—I know it very well, and it oppresses my soul to this day, although I have received absolution for it. In that moment of oblivion to all things earthly, the lovely Persida whispered in my ear:

"Zdenko, if you could journey to the Holy Land for love of me you could also endure a season of purgatory for my sake, could you not?"

Without stopping to consider, I answered:

"Certainly I could!"

"Very well, then, do not confess this sin which is half mine. Do not confide it to priest, or saint, for no matter to whom you might confess, misfortune would come to me as well as to you."

I promised not to confess the sin; but I went about with it weighting my soul, much as a wounded stag roams the forest with a dart in his vitals.

The old duke at last became so devout that he compelled every member of his household to repair to the confessional in his private chapel, every fast day. There was nothing to be seen of the priest who received the penitents, but his hand, in which he held a long ivory wand with which he would touch the penitent as a sign that absolution had been granted.

The duke confessed first; after him the duchess; then I, the house-friend, and major-domo of the ducal household. When my turn came, I took my place before the lattice and said to the confessor: "Father, will you give me your word of honor that you will never tell what I confess to you?"

"Don't ask such silly questions, my son," he replied. "Don't you know that the secrets of the confessional are inviolably sacred?"

"But, suppose you should tell them sometime?" I persisted.

"Then I should be burned at the stake."

"Has it never happened that a priest betrayed the secrets confided to him in the confessional?" I asked again.

"Such a case is not on record, my son. Not even the confession of a murderer may be revealed, though the priest knows that an innocent man will be hanged for the crime. He dare not speak to prevent the law from committing another murder. On the other hand, many a priest has suffered martyrdom rather than betray the secrets confided to him. An illustrious example is Saint Nepomuck, of whom I dare say you have heard?"

"Yes, I have read about John Nepomucene; but are you a saint of that order?"

"The vows I have taken, my son, are the same he took."

"That is not enough, father; you must swear to me that you will never reveal what I tell you."

And his reverence had to yield to my importunate request before I would make my confession to him. After he had solemnly sworn never to reveal what I should tell him, I made a clean breast of everything—and a rare list it was I can tell you!

At the last transgression, however, I made a pause. I remembered what Persida had said to me. And yet, the sin I shared with her was the very one that most oppressed my soul.

The father noticed my hesitation, and said:

"My son, you are keeping back something. You have not told me everything. It is not likely that a stately young gentleman like yourself lives only on caraway-soup! There are many handsome women in this city; every one of them confesses her foibles—you, surely, are not the only saint about here! Remember, if you withhold but a single transgression, your tortures in purgatory will be the same as for nine-hundred and ninety-nine."

The reverend father continued to threaten me with purgatorial fires, until at last I confided in him the secret which was only half mine. I had no sooner done so than I regretted it; I would have given anything could I have recalled my words—nay, I would willingly have journeyed straightway to purgatory, as I had told Persida I would, rather than betray the secret we shared together. But the secrets of a sinful love have wings—they will escape somehow.

When I bent forward to receive the reverend father's benediction, he gave me such a thump on the head with his wand that the spot remained sore to the touch for several days.

"He absolves one with a will, and no mistake!" I said to myself as I rose to go my way. It occurred to me for an instant, that it would be exceedingly comical if, instead of a priest, it had been the duke who received my confession. I turned to look toward his grace's arm-chair, and was relieved to see that his burly form occupied it, and that he was wrapped in devout slumber.

THE IRON NECKLACE.

Freed from the burden of my transgressions, I proceeded to do what is usually done by the prodigal sons who have been relieved of their old debts—I set about at once to make new ones.

I looked forward with impatience for evening to arrive, for the hour of instructive reading in the book of Saints and Martyrs.

On this particular evening the duke was even more friendly toward me than usual; he jested with me, and frequently compelled me to exchange glasses with him as a sign of his cordial friendship.

When the hour arrived for the duchess to prepare the "rejuvenating sleeping potion," his grace became actually boisterous; his fat face grew crimson, his rotund paunch shook like jelly, with his incessant laughter.

"See here, comrade," he exclaimed, taking from his wife's hand the goblet in which the hot, spiced wine was steaming, "this is a drink of paradise! When I have emptied it into my stomach, I fly direct to paradise—not the one described by our holy men, where all the men are old, and all the women pious; where there is neither eating nor drinking and where there are no amusements save harp-playing and psalm singing—no, I fly straightway to the improved paradise of the Mohammedans, where there is wine to drink and women to admire. There an enchanting Greek Hetäre offers you the wine of Cyprus; the Roman bacchante offers Falernian wine; the Spanish donna serves Maderia; the Lesbian siren gives you nectar; the Persian bayadere brings Shiraz; the Wallachian fairy, Tokay; and the negress Abelera dips up sparkling Bordeaux in the hollow of her dusky palm and holds it to your lips—each more beautiful than the other, until at last you cannot decide which of the wines is the most delicious. That is I cannot, for you have not yet made the journey. But you shall; for are not we good comrades—you and I? Is it not meet that I should let my heart's brother enjoy paradisal delights with me? To be sure it is! Very good! You shall go in my stead this very evening to Mohammed's paradise—but only this once, mind you! Here, take the glass, empty it to the dregs!" I was exceedingly embarrassed; I looked questioningly toward the duchess, who was seated on the arm of her husband's chair. He could not see her nod her head as if to say, "Do as you are bid."

I took the goblet and emptied it to the dregs. Almost immediately I was overcome by a languor that seemed to transform my material body to vapor. I rose from the earth to the clouds which assumed the most fantastic shapes; on and on the breeze wafted me; over enchanting regions, amid talking trees and singing fruits; across a sea of radiant light swept by waves of harmony—amid music, and color, and perfumes, the quintessence of sweetness, amid gorgeous flames which became forms of transcendent loveliness: Delilah; Bathsheba; Salome; Laïs; Aspasia; Cleopatra; Semiramis; Circe; and the dusky Atalanta. The seductive forms gathered around me; they pressed toward me, smiling alluringly. They thrust on to every one of my fingers rings that glittered with diamonds, rubies, sapphires, until my hands became so heavy I could not lift them. Their embraces strangled me; their kisses burned on my face and neck like fire; the dusky Atalanta's coral lips drew the blood from my veins—

"Are you never going to waken from your satanic dream?" impatiently interrupted the chair.

"Let him dream—it is rather pleasant," interposed the prince; but Hugo said:

"I am awake. The place in which I found myself, when I opened my eyes, was not Mohammed's paradise, but an underground dungeon, the walls of which were dripping with moisture. The flickering light of a small lamp faintly illumined the narrow cell; and the rings which weighted my hands were heavy iron chains that creaked and clinked every movement I made. The kisses which burned on my face and neck were not from the lips of Delilah, Circe, and the rest; but from those horrible hundred-legged creatures, scolopendra, which covered my body; and the dusky Atalanta, who drew the blood from my neck, was nothing less than a hideous vampyre. The embraces which strangled me were not from the white arms of enchantresses, but from an iron band two inches thick and three fingers wide, fastened about my neck, and secured to a ring in the wall by a chain, that was only long enough to allow me to reach and convey to my mouth the mouldy bread and jug of water placed by my side—"

"Served you right, you godless miscreant!" interpolated the chair in a severe tone. "You got your just deserts at last!"

At first—continued the prisoner—I consoled myself with the foolish thought that I was still under the influence of the sleeping potion. I remembered that those persons who eat the flesh of sharks are said to have such dreams: delightful visions at first, followed by the tortures of martyrdom.

But the iron neck-band was too painful a reality for me to remain long in doubt as to whether I was awake, or dreaming. The cold, hard, heavy ring betrothed me to death!

How long a time I passed in thinking over what had happened I can't say; there was no night, no day, in that dungeon; nor was I told by sleep and hunger when it was midnight or noon.

The lamp in my cell was a perpetual one, for the oil did not grow less; it was there, doubtless, to reveal to me all the horrors of my surroundings. Reptiles, all manner of creeping and crawling creatures moved over the stone floor and walls; vampyres hung in rows from the ceiling, watching me with their garnet eyes, ready to flash down on me the moment I lost consciousness in sleep.

At last a sound roused me from the stupor into which I had fallen; a key turned in the lock, the iron door opened, and a tall man, whose face was hidden by a capuchin, entered, with a jug of water and a loaf of bread.

"Well, my lad," he exclaimed, on seeing that I had not touched the bread or the water by my side. "Do you propose to starve yourself?"

His voice sounded strangely familiar; I did not have to trouble my brain guessing where I had heard it before; he pushed back his capuchin, and I recognized the haidemaken priest who had performed the ceremony of confirmation over me in the cavern.

"You are the haidemaken pater?" I whispered hoarsely, not trusting myself to speak aloud.

"Then you recognize me, do you?" he returned, laughing. "I had an idea you would deny all knowledge of our former comradeship."

"Are you the gaoler here?" I asked.

"The gaoler?" he repeated, laughing again. "Not by a good deal! I am the court-confessor!" He sat down on the stone seat to which I was chained, and continued: "I dare say you are curious to learn how I come to be here? Well, when the duke's dragoons attacked the haidemaken at Berdiczov, I hastily donned my chasuble and capuchin, trusting to the vestments to save my life, which they did; but I was taken prisoner and brought to the duke. I could not deny that I was a haidemak, but his grace evidently had use for a person like myself, for he said to me: "You deserve to be hanged, reverend father, but I will spare your life on condition that you accept a proposition I shall offer you: I want you to act the part of court-confessor for a season, to receive the confessions of those persons I shall send to you. I suspect my wife of infidelity, but cannot find out who is the partner of her guilt. They both confess to the court-chaplain I have no doubt, but he is an honest old saint who would let himself be torn to pieces rather than betray the secrets confided to him in the confessional. Now, you are of a different pattern; it will not matter to you if the fires of purgatory are heated a few degrees hotter for your purification. If you don't accept my conditions you will have the opportunity at once of testing the temperature of purgatory; if you accept you shall have a respite. What do you say? Will you become my court-confessor?"

"You may believe, lad, that I would have acceded to a much more difficult proposition in order to save my neck from the gallows; so I became confessor to the ducal household. When I saw you coming toward the confessional I recognized you at once, and guessed that you would have some pretty sins to get rid of. I was not surprised when you told me of your sinful dalliance with the beautiful young duchess; and quite envied your good fortune. I said to myself, 'I will not betray the lad; but make him do penance for the sin,' so I ordered you to put seven dried peas in each shoe and journey on foot to the shrine of the Holy Virgin at Berdiczov. Had you been content to do as I bade you, you would not be here now; but you began to haggle with me about the peas—you urged me to let you boil them before you put them into your shoes; and, to win my indulgence, you told me of the good turn you had done the monks of Berdiczov by betraying the haidemaken into the hands of the duke's dragoons. Ha! but didn't I want to fly at your throat when I heard that! I wanted to strangle you, I was so enraged to hear that it was you who had betrayed us and frustrated our fine plans to secure the monks' treasure. However, I contented myself with giving you a sound rap on the head and straightway communicated to his grace what you had confessed. You have got for your reward the entire ducal property, for you are chained to it so securely you cannot get away from it."

The next query I put to the cursed haidemaken priest was: "What has been done with the duchess?"

"You need not trouble yourself about her highness, my son; the duke is too shrewd a man of the world to make public the disgrace of his house. The beautiful Persida does not know that she has been betrayed. The causes assigned for your incarceration are forgery; the usurpation of the name of a noble knight; and for being a member of a robber band—for all of which you deserve death. That you have been condemned to suffer a hundred deaths for your dalliance with the lovely Persida, instead of only one for the transgressions assigned, no one will ever know. As for the duchess: one of these fine days she will, after eating a peach or a pear, get a severe colic that will result in her death. The funeral ceremonies in the Vieznovieczky palace will be most imposing—and that will be the end of her grace. It might come to pass, however, that the obsequies of his grace might precede those of the duchess. It depends on which of the ducal pair gets the better of the other! But, you have only yourself to think of, my son. I am here to offer you one of two alternatives: Ask to be tried before a court which will sentence you to immediate death on the wheel—unless the duke out of compassion for a good comrade orders your head to be cut off. The other alternative is: Elect to remain in this hole, chained to the wall, battling with vermin while you live, and becoming food for them when the breath leaves your body. Tertium non datur."

To this I made answer that I preferred to be executed without delay, even were I to be broiled on a gridiron over a slow fire. I was quite ready to die.

"Very well, my son, then I will proceed at once to administer to you the last sacraments—"

"Go to the devil!" I cried furiously, when he approached me with the wafer he had taken from his pocket. "I won't have any more of your cursed mummery. You are no better than I am—you too are sure to go to hell!"

"That is more than likely, my son," responded the accursed priest composedly. "The only difference between us is in the manner of our journeying thither. You will travel on foot—I on wheels. So, don't you think it would be well to let me give you a lift on the way? With the heavy pack of sins on your back you might hang on to the tail-board of my wagon!"

I could not help but laugh at the rascal, so I said: "Very well, if your blessing will help me over the road more quickly, go ahead and let's have it!—and may the devil fly away with you!"

He thrust the wafer down my throat and I had hardly got it comfortably swallowed when I fell into a deep sleep. The wafer contained a powerful narcotic.

THE WHITE DOVE.

In my death-like sleep I still saw the dungeon walls, still felt the iron fetters on neck, hands and feet. Instead of the tiny lamp flame, however, which had only dimly lighted the musty cell, a radiant light now filled it—a light that came from overhead. When, with great difficulty, I lifted my face toward the ceiling, I beheld an ethereal form bending above me; her white garments gleamed like snow under brilliant sunshine; her blue mantle was like the starry sky of evening. The coronet above her brow was like the crescent moon. The face was so radiant I could not look at it—my eyes were dazzled as when I gazed into the noon-day sun. The radiant vision held on her right arm an infant; the forefinger of its right hand was pressed against its lips. I believed the Holy Virgin had descended to me; but when the vision came nearer to me, kissed me, and called me by name, then I knew that it was my Madus—my poor deserted, forgotten Madus!

I was so ashamed of the fetters which bound me. If she should ask why I wore them, how could I reply? "I wear them because of the beautiful woman who caused me to forget you."

But she did not ask any questions; she smiled tenderly, and said in her gentle tones:

"My poor Baran! How unhappy you seem! Cheer up—we are come to help you—to release you. My home is now in paradise—I will tell you how I came to dwell there. On Christmas eve, I was kneeling in front of the holy image you brought to me from Berdiczov, expecting every minute the arrival of the little guest for my Bethlehem crib, when I heard a familiar step outside the cottage. It was my father. I hurriedly snatched the blessed image from the table to hide it, for I knew the sight of it would anger him; but I was seized with such a terrible pain in my heart I had to press the image against it with both hands. I hardly recognized my father. His face was fearfully cut, and mutilated; one eye was gone. "Your precious Baran betrayed us," he gasped, glaring at me with the remaining eye. I opened my lips to speak for you, but before I could utter a word he said again: "You are his accomplice, you miserable creature! What are you hiding in your breast?" I could not lie, so I told him it was the image of the Blessed Virgin. "A gift from the Berdiczov monks I'll warrant!" he shrieked, seizing my hair and flinging me on the floor. I heard the keen blade of his cimeter hiss through the air—then, it seemed as if the sky fell over me. The next instant I found myself in paradise, with every pain changed to bliss. I may not reveal to you the secrets of that blessed realm, my Baran. I may only tell you that our little child is with me—he was born in heaven. This is he—he is come to save his father from death."

As she spake these words the child bent toward me and took hold of the chains which bound my feet and hands. They fell asunder at his touch. But the iron band around my neck was too wide for his tiny fingers to clasp; it was impossible for him to break it. But he did what twenty-four horses could not have done: with one pull he drew from the wall the iron ring to which the neck-band was secured by a chain.

"My blessed child!" I exclaimed, kissing the little hands. "If your strength is so great, then seize hold of my hair, and bear me with you to your home above the clouds."

The little one laid his finger against his lips as a sign that he could not, or dared not speak; but the mother answered for him:

"No, my good Baran, you cannot come to us. Before that will be possible you will have to endure many more trials in this world of shadows. You will have to abide here until you shall have performed a good deed for which some one will say to you: 'God reward you.' One single good deed, my Baran, will do more toward winning paradise than a hundred pilgrimages, or a thousand prayers."

How sinful I am, your honors, is proved by the fact that I am still alive; and as it is not likely that I shall have an opportunity to perform the deed, which will call down on me a blessing from heaven, I shall never again behold my little angel son, and his mother, my sainted Madus.

After the vision had spoken she beckoned me to follow her. The child touched the wall of the dungeon with his fingers, the stones parted, and we passed through the opening. The radiant form of my Madus illuminated the passage amid the rocks, the long flights of stairs we ascended. We seemed to thread our way through the catacombs. At last we emerged from the subterranean region into a dense forest. I saw how the shining garments of my conductress swept over the moss, giving to it, to the flowers, the grass, the trees, the same soft radiance that emanated from her form. Gradually the distance between me and the lovely vision widened; my feet became leaden; I could hardly move my limbs. Then the radiant appearance lost its human shape, until at last it seemed to me that I was looking down a long avenue between the trees at a faint glimmering light at the further end. The cold air blew across my face, and I awoke.

I was in the forest of my dream, around me were mammoth trees between which, a long way off, I could see the glimmering light of the open. The same beggar raiment I had worn to journey to Lemberg clothed me; my crutch, emptied of its gold, lay by my side. I made my way toward the light at the edge of the forest. I could see no signs of human habitation anywhere. How far I was from the scene of my magnificence and disgrace I cannot say. When I looked at my beggar's rags, I could easily have believed my Lemberg experience an evil dream, had not the iron band about my neck been too convincing a proof of its reality.

"Well," here observed the prince, drawing a long breath, "that is a most remarkable story!—a miraculous rescue of a transgressor through the aid of the Almighty Father!"

To this the chair added: "I am inclined to believe that the prisoner's escape from the dungeon was effected through earthly, rather than heavenly assistance. It is more likely that the haidemaken priest, bribed by the duchess, conveyed the prisoner to the forest, and clad him in the rags which had been procured from the Jew Malchus."

"I believe the story just as the accused told it," asseverated his highness. "There are a number of similar cases on record—of notorious bandits having been released from imprisonment by the hands of an unborn babe."

"And I assure your highness"—Hugo ventured to insist—"that everything happened just as I related it. From the moment of my waking in the forest, a white dove nestled on my left shoulder, and accompanied me wherever I went. If I turned to look at it, when it would coo into my ear, it would fly to my right shoulder; but it seemed to prefer sitting on my left."

"Is the white dove sitting on either of your shoulders now?" queried the chair.

"No, your honor," sadly replied the prisoner; "it is not there now. I will tell you later how I came to lose it."

The prince announced his decision as follows:

"As the prisoner's release from the dungeon was accomplished through a miracle from heaven, it would not be seemly for a human judge to oppose divine favor. This transgression, therefore, may also be erased from the register."

PART IV.
WITH THE TEMPLARS.

CHAPTER I.
IN THE HOLLOW TREE.

With a ragged mantle on my back, a crutch in my hand, an iron band about my neck, and the white dove on my shoulder, where could I have gone?—even had I wished to leave the forest.

The rags and the crutch were fitting equipment for a beggar; but what should I have replied had anyone asked me why I wore the iron band on my neck? I was disgusted with the world and its wickedness.

Overwhelmed with remorse for the sins I had committed, I resolved to become a hermit and do penance—I would remain in the forest and adopt the rigorous life of an ascetic.

After a brief search I discovered a brook that would supply me with fresh water; hard by its banks an oak tree, many centuries old, with a large cavity in the trunk, offered the shelter I should require. I collected moss and dry leaves for my bed; for nourishment there was a plentitude of nuts and wild fruits, and edible fungi. Wild bees furnished me with sweets.

I bound together two dry branches in form of a cross, set it up between two large stones, and performed my daily devotions in front of it.

During the day I roamed through the forest collecting stores for the winter; I laid up a supply of dried fruit, nuts, sow-bread and honey—the last I found in the upper part of my tree-house, where a swarm of bees had taken up their quarters.

Of the raspberries which grew plentifully along the brook, I made a sort of conserve, which I packed into boxes made of the bark of pine trees. All these provisions I stored in my tree-house, which I had firmly resolved never to quit.

But one thought disquieted me. If I remained in the forest how could I perform the good deed Madus had told me was necessary in order to win paradise? If I passed all my days in the hollow tree beside the brook, where no human being ever came near me, how was I to benefit my fellow creatures? How win the "God will reward you"—the open sesame to paradise? I pondered this over and over until at last an expedient suggested itself to me, by which I could make known my existence to my fellow-creatures and still remain in my hermitage. I looked about for two broad flat stones; these I fastened together at one side with a cord made of linden bark and hung them on the lower limb of a tree. With a third stone for a clapper I rang my primitive bell three times daily—morn, noon and evening—surely, I said to myself, some one will hear the sound and come to see what is the meaning of it. When the people in the neighborhood learn that a devout hermit is living in the forest, they will visit him, and perhaps bestow alms on him.

But, in vain I rang three times every day, no visitors came to my hollow tree, save the fawns that came to drink at the brook, and the wild cats that came to prey on them. Many a time I rescued a young deer from the claws of the feline enemy. It was to be regretted that the dumb beasts I rescued could not have thanked me for the good deed. One day I returned later than was my wont from collecting moss and ferns to protect me from the cold of winter (I had already fashioned a door of willow withes to keep the snow out of my tree-house). What was my surprise to find the door open, and all my provisions gone! Not a trace of the nuts remained but the shells; there was not a vestige of the dried fruit; the boxes of raspberry conserve were lying about on the ground, broken and crushed, as if they had been trodden under foot by the marauders. Even the tent-shaped honey-comb in the upper portion of my dwelling was gone, the plundered bees were buzzing angrily around the tree outside.

I could hardly refrain from uttering a malediction on the thief who had despoiled me of my winter store; but I remembered my pious vows, and reproached myself instead: "Shame on you, pious anchorite," I said, "were you so wedded to earthly possessions that the loss of them rouses your anger? You were too proud of your store. You were going to play the sovereign in the wilderness. Others had an equal right to that which you imagined belonged only to yourself. The truly pious anchorite does not lay up stores for the morrow. He depends on the Master to supply his needs. He must pay heed to nothing save his prayers for the wicked, and praises for the Master. You have been fitly punished for your arrogance." I said further, "Perhaps this has happened for the best. Who can say but the despoiler prayed that God might reward the one who had placed the provisions in the hollow tree. If so be that was the case, it was a fine hunger it took all my store to appease!"

And again: "Who knows? Perhaps the hungry one is a great prophet—St. Peter himself, maybe. I have heard that that distinguished saint occasionally visits a poor man, and eats up a winter's supply of provisions, only to return it an hundred fold. If so be it was St. Peter then he will return tomorrow and so fill your tree with viands and treasure you will never again want for anything—and, maybe, he will also bestow on you a passport that will admit you to paradise whenever you choose to go!"

Consoling myself with such thoughts, I sounded the bell as usual for vespers; then I drank heartily of brook water, lay down on my soft bed, and dreamed until morning, of flying hams and kindred paradisal delights. At sunrise, I rang the early matin bell; then hurried away, in order not to disturb the prophet when he came to prepare the surprise for me.

I spent the entire day wandering about the forest, guessing what my benefactor would bestow on me in return for the nuts, fruits and honey he had taken—would it be the widow's oil-cruse with its never-failing contents? or, a pair of bread-supplying ravens? or, a barley loaf from Mount Gilead? or, a swarm of those savory locusts which had served as fare for John the Baptist?

In my rambling I came across a heap of beech-nuts. I hesitated to gather them. What need to take the trouble? There would be plenty, and to spare, in the hollow tree. However, I filled my pockets with the nuts, then turned my face homeward.

As I was rather late, I rang for vespers, and told my beads (I had made a beautiful rosary of acorns) before going to my hermitage. A deep growl came from the hollow tree when I approached it.

"He is here!" I exclaimed joyfully. "He is waiting to see me. That he is no ordinary person I can tell by his voice!"

I crept on hands and knees toward the tree, and peeped into the cavity. The next instant I was on my feet, hurling a million donnerwetters at the shaggy bear, whose monstrous body quite filled the only apartment of my dwelling.

I forgot that I was an anchorite, and cursed the brute roundly—

"Votum violatum," dictated the chair. "Broken vow—blasphemy! Capite plectetur."

"By my faith!" interposed the prince with considerable emphasis. "I would have sworn too! Qui bene distinguit, bene docet. How goes the paragraph relating to blasphemy? 'He that curses his fellowman'—and so forth. But, it doesn't say anything about punishment for him who curses his 'fellow-bear.' You see, therefore, that the votum ruptum does not fit this crime, for it was not the prisoner who broke the vow of the anchorite, but the bear; consequently bruin is the delinquent."

"Very good," assented the chair. "Then the bear is the guilty party: ursus comburatur! The robbery of the temple follows: I am curious to hear how the prisoner will clear himself of that! That he will accomplish it I am willing to wager my head!"

What was I to do? continued Hugo, when the mayor had concluded his remark. My house was occupied by a tenant who would not let me share it with him. I had nowhere else to go. I could not find another hermitage. If I could not be a hermit, I could become a beggar—begging was also a way to gain a livelihood, and I possessed the necessary equipment for it.

In Poland, no one who can say: "Give me bread," needs die of hunger. The iron band on my neck might, after all, be of advantage to me; it would give me a sort of superiority over other mendicants. If I were asked how I came by it, I should say that it had been forged on my neck by the Saracens, who took me captive when I was in the Holy Land, and because I had made my escape through a miracle, I continued to wear the band as a penance.

The good people to whom I told this story believed it; it brought me many a groschen and carried me comfortably across Poland.

I had no sooner crossed into Brandenburg (I was on my way to my native city, where I intended taking up the trade of my father, an honest and respectable tanner) than I was surrounded by a crowd of people—not a charitably disposed crowd, but inquisitive.

They wanted to know where I came from, where was I going, who and what was I and how I dared to have the impertinence to beg in their city.

I replied that I was a pilgrim from the Holy Land; and that instead of thinking it an impertinence for me to beg from them, they ought to consider it a distinction to have in their community a mendicant with an iron collar around his neck.

But the Brandenburgers are inclined to believe themselves more clever than the rest of the world. The bailiff seized me, dragged me to the market place, where he proceeded to question me for the benefit of the whole city.

"Who are you?" he inquired.

"I am hungry," I said in reply.

"Where do you come from?"

"From Jerusalem."

"Don't you attempt to deceive me, sirrah! I know the way to Jerusalem. Through what provinces did you journey?"

"Through Marcomannia, and Scythia; through Bess Arabia, and Arabia Petræa; through Bactria, and Mesopotamia; and now I come direct from Caramania—"

"Stop, stop! You are saying what is not true," interrupted the bailiff. "Praise be to God! we Brandenburgers have maps, and know how to get to foreign countries. The way to Palestine is through Zingaria, Paflagonia, Cappadocia, and cinnamon-scented India.

"Well," I explained, "I did travel through those countries too, but it was at night, when I couldn't see to read their names on the guide-boards."

"And what means that iron band on your neck?"

"That, your honor, was fastened about my neck by the black sultan, Zagachrist, who held me captive fifty-two years and three days."

"You are not yet thirty years old."

"No, in this part of the world I am not; but in Abyssinia, where the sun is so hot, the days contract to such an extent, that one of your years here would be six there."

"What an unconscionable liar you are!" exclaimed the bailiff. "Heat does not contract. On the contrary, it expands, which accounts for the days being longer in summer than in winter. We Brandenburgers know that very well."

He seized me by the collar, to drag me to prison, but I held back, and said in a loud voice—loud enough for the crowd to hear:

"I tell you I am right; heat does contract. Just you sit on a hot stove and see if your leather breeches don't shrivel up under you."

The crowd was on my side; but that trial in the market-place might have resulted disastrously for me, had not a knight just then chanced to ride that way. He wore on his head a plumed helmet; his body was protected by a coat of mail. From his shoulders hung a crimson mantle, on which was embroidered a large white cross. A heart-shaped shield swung from the pommel of his saddle.

My eyes were at once attracted to this shield, on which were the ensigns armorial: a mounted knight like himself, and on the same horse a ragged pilgrim of a like pattern with myself.

"Ho, ho!" here interrupted the chair in triumph. "You may have been able to hoodwink the Brandenburg bailiff, but you can't do the same with me! You needn't try to make this court believe you saw anyone wearing the coat-of-arms of an order that was abolished in the 14th century."

"I know very well, your honor, that the order of the Templars was abolished at the time you mention, but a portion of them took refuge in Brandenburg, where the order exists to this day under the name of 'Dornenritter.'"

Having made this explanation, Hugo continued his confession:

At sight of the Templar a great commotion arose among the people crowding the market-place; the women pressed toward him to kiss the hem of his mantle, in their enthusiasm almost dragging him from the saddle. The knight had red hair, and a long beard of the same fiery hue.

"There is the red monk," said the bailiff to me. "Do you try to make him believe you have been in Palestine? He has been there twice—once by land and once by sea—and he has slaughtered more than two hundred heathen and liberated thousands of pilgrims from slavery. Talk to him; he will know how to question you."

I was in a fix, and no mistake. The knight would be sure at once to detect the errors of my geography.

He rode quite close to me, passed his hand over his long beard and examined me from head to foot with his keen eyes.

"Can you prove to me that you come from the Holy Land?" he asked in a voice so stern and deep-toned it made me start and tremble.

But a lucky thought came to me; I had a convincing proof under my arm—the old Turk's crutch, the shaft of which was closely wound with brass wire in a fanciful pattern.

"Will you examine this, Sir Knight?" I said in reply—holding the crutch toward him. "You, who are familiar with the Arabic characters, will find here a record of my wanderings—the entire history of my wretched captivity, and miraculous deliverance."

It was the knight's turn to start and tremble. I saw at once from his countenance, that he knew no more about Arabic than—ah—than your honor, and that he was afraid I might betray him, and prove to the multitude that he had never trod the sacred soil of the Holy Land. The hand he extended for the crutch trembled, but he preserved a bold front, as he turned the brass-bound shaft around and around in his fingers, and pretended to decipher the oriental characters. After several minutes, he returned the crutch to me and said in an impressive tone:

"This is indeed Arabic—or, rather, Saracenic, the language of Turcomania. Your crutch, devout pilgrim, testifies to the truth of everything you have told these good people. Come with me to my castle, where you will be a welcome and honored guest."

Before he had quite concluded this speech, the bailiff had lost himself in the crowd—he was nowhere to be seen.

I was hoisted to the shoulders of a pair of sturdy citizens, and, accompanied by the shouting multitude, borne in triumph to the Templars' castle, situated on a moat-encircled hill, a little distance from the city.

Here, I was committed to the care of the guards on duty; they stripped me of my rags; lifted me into a vat of water, scrubbed me thoroughly, combed and shaved my head, and then put on me a scarlet habit of coarse cloth, which, to judge from its ample proportions, must once have garbed the form of a brother whose conditions of life had been more fortunate than mine.

Attired thus, I was conducted to the refectory, where the red-bearded knight and twelve of his companions were assembled.

"Quadraginta tonitrua, lad, you please me well!" exclaimed the red-bearded knight, who seemed to be the leader. "Never, in all my life, have I ever heard so glib a tongue at lying as yours! You must stop here with us. The devil has taken our sacristan—that's his habit you've got on—he died of small-pox yesterday."

You may imagine my feelings when I heard that I was wearing the garment of a man that had succumbed to so loathsome a disease!

I made bold to say that I had never learned the duties requisite to the office of a sacristan.

"Per septem archidiabolos!" merrily exclaimed the knight. "I believe you. But, we will instruct you—never fear!"

Here he noticed the iron band on my neck and added: "Ha, Lucifer te corripiat! Why do you wear that curious band around your neck?"

In reply I stammered something about a solemn vow, whereupon the entire company burst into hearty laughter.

"Ut Belsebub te submergat in paludes inferni, trifurcifer!" bawled the red knight. "Either you wear the band in pursuance of a vow—solemn or otherwise—or it was forged on your neck in punishment for a theft. If the former, then continue to wear it to the end of your days; if the latter, then we have an armorer who will relieve you of it in short order."

To this I made answer:

"Though I wear the iron band because of a solemn vow, the Sir Knights may believe it is in punishment for a theft."

The merry company laughed again, and the armorer was summoned at once to relieve me of the uncomfortable collar.

BAPHOMET.

I now believed I had ultimately attained what I most desired—a comfortable position in a religious house, where I might pass the remainder of my days in peace, and free from care. I should have no further need to trouble about providing for food and drink, and the where to lay my head. My duties were light; I had to ring the bell for prayers three times daily; keep clean the church vessels, and take care of all the vestments. All my time not occupied with these simple tasks, I was permitted to devote to pious contemplation. I soon won the confidence of Knight Elias, the red-bearded superior. I was named Eliezer. It had taken me six months and more to beg my way through Poland, consequently, Passion week began soon after my arrival at the Templars' castle. I was apprehensive that I should not be able adequately to perform the duties requisite for my office during the solemn season, as I was not yet sufficiently familiar with the Roman Catholic service, having only lately become a neophite. But, when I confided my doubts to Knight Elias, he replied encouragingly:

"Don't you worry, Frater Eliezer, every night during the coming week we shall rehearse scenes from the 'Passion Play,' which will make you familiar with the services expected of you."

This assurance gave me confidence, and I looked forward with impatience to Maundy-Thursday, as on the evening of that day the preparations for the devotional ceremonies were to begin.

Maundy-Thursday arrived. In the evening, after I had closed and locked the gates after vespers, Knight Elias bade me take a lamp, go to the chapel, and wait there until the clock struck the hour of midnight, when I should hear three taps on the door of the crypt. I was to open the door without delay, receive with becoming respect the guests who would appear, and obey every order they might give me. I did not betray the astonishment I felt on receiving this very singular behest. I never was what may be termed "faint-hearted." I dare say because my curiosity always was superior to my timidity; and I confess I was most curious to see what manner of guests would come out of the crypt.

The last stroke of twelve was followed by three raps on the crypt door. I hastened to open it, and was amazed to find the stairway leading to the tomb brilliantly lighted, and mounting it were a half dozen or more female forms, clad in antique costumes—such as are seen only in the canvases adorning the walls of churches and royal palaces.

All the women were highly rouged and powdered; one had her eyebrows penciled with black; another with minium, and another had hers tinted with gold. All carried in their hands gaily colored wax tapers. They were not in the least like the ghosts I had expected to see; and I was not in the least frightened of them either!

Young blood coursed through my veins then, and it flowed more swiftly when my eyes rested on the beautiful visitors—even though they were denizens of another world!

The ghosts saw at once that it was not the old sacristan who had admitted them; and believed it necessary to introduce themselves. The first one said:

"I am Jezebel, wife of King Ahab. Fetch the baptismal basin, I want to perform my ablutions."

The second announced:

"I am Salome, daughter of Herodias. Bring me the golden ciborium."

The third said:

"I am Bathsheba. Bring the sacred oil, I want some for my hair."

The fourth:

"I am Delilah. Bring a chalice, I want a drink."

The fifth:

"I am Ashtoreth. Bring the censer, I want some perfume."

"I am Tamar," announced the sixth. "Bring a lachrymatory, I want to fill it with my tears."

There were seven in the company. The seventh had on her head a crown, and was clad in a robe of gold-brocade with a long train. "I am Mylitta, Queen of Sheba," she announced in a voice that sounded like a sweet-toned bell. "Bring me the pyx."

Now, although the rest of the orders had confounded me with their impiety, I had obeyed them, because I had been commanded to do so. This last, however, made me hesitate; I could not lay sacrilegious hands on so holy a vessel.

I shuddered, and looked with horrified eyes at the commanding phantom. Suddenly, she lifted her arm, and gave me a sound blow on the back, at the same time screaming:

"Don't you hear me, dolt? I want the pyx." Feeling convinced that further hesitation to obey this visitant from another world would not be well for me, I went to the altar, and with a violently trembling hand lifted the sacred vessel from its accustomed place and brought it to the lady.

"Now, follow us," she commanded; and the procession from the crypt passed on, I following in the rear, out of the chapel, up a winding staircase, to a part of the castle I had not yet been in. We halted in front of a gilded iron door; it opened in response to three raps, and I saw into a long, magnificently furnished saloon. There were no windows in it; a mysterious radiance shone from the niches in the walk, which were hung with gold-embroidered silk.

As we crossed the threshold, a heavy curtain across the further end of the saloon parted, and several male figures, garbed in old-time costumes—Turkish, Roman, Persian, Chaldean and Egyptian—came to meet the women, who greeted them thus:

"Welcome, Ahasuerus!"

"Baal greets you, Nebuchadnezzar!"

"Osiris, bless you, Pharaoh!" and so on, to Herod, Pilate, Nero, Sardanapalus—in all of whom I recognized my sir knights. My red-bearded patron answered to the name of Judas Iscariot. It was a distinguished company!

The greetings between the knights and the ladies ever, my patron turned toward me. I was standing near the door—and said:

"Malchus, come hither."

I looked around to see who Malchus might be, but finding no one near me, guessed that I too had been given a name suitable for the occasion—that of the chief priests' servant, who lifted his hand against the Savior.

My patron's next words assured me that I had guessed correctly:

"If your ears have really been cut off, Malchus—which they must have been, since you can't hear, we must ask Ben Hanotzri to fasten them to your head again!"

I had not yet learned to whom they alluded when they mentioned that name.

After his last speech to me, my patron took my hand and led me up to the knight they called Nebuchadnezzar. He had strings of costly pearls wound in his beard and hair—as one sees in ancient Persian statues, and pictures.

"What has Malchus done that he deserves to be admitted to the service of Baphomet?" he inquired.

My patron answered for me:

"He has been a heretic, an atheist, a thief, a murderer, a counterfeiter, an adulterer—"

"The very man for us!" interrupted Nebuchadnezzar—and then I understood why my welcome to the conventual residence had been so cordial!

I was asked to take off my monk's habit, and given the dress of a Roman lictor, in which character my first task was to remove the lid from a sarcophagus that stood in a niche in the wall.

I was horrified when I saw that it contained a wax image of our Savior, as He descended from the cross, with the five gaping wounds in His body, and the crown of thorns on His head.

The knights gathered about the sarcophagus, and began a discussion, to which I listened with fear and trembling. They spoke in Latin, and as I am quite familiar with the language I understood every word.

One of the knights asserted, that Christ was an eon of the God-father, Jaldabaoth, who had sent Him to the earth, as the Messiah of the Pneumatici, and to vanquish his, Jaldabaoth's, arch-enemy, Ophiomorpho; that Christ, having failed for want of courage to accomplish the task, Jaldabaoth had allowed Him to be crucified in punishment; all of which was satisfactorily proved by Valentinus, the Gnostic. Another of the knights insisted, that Christ was an imposter, as was verified by Basilides of Alexandria, and Bardesane; and that His true name was Ben Jonah Hanotzri.

The earth seemed to sink from under my feet as I listened to this blasphemous disputation. Though I am a wicked sinner, my reverence for all things holy is boundless. I held my hands over my ears to shut out the horrible words, but I could not help but hear some of them.

The third knight maintained that the whole story of Jesus Christ was a myth—He had never been born—had never died. The entire legend was an emblem, a symbol that, like Brahma, and Isis, had never possessed a material body; and that all images of Him were idols, like those which represented Basal, or Dagon.

I imagined that blasphemy could go no further; but the fourth knight convinced me that even hyperbole may possess a superlative.

The fourth speaker was Nebuchadnezzar; he declared he could prove from the Scriptures, that Jesus Christ was that Demiurge, who tortures mankind with laws; renders unhappy and wretched the dwellers on earth; prohibits all things that are pleasant and agreeable to the senses; commands man to do what is good for his fellows, though nature's laws prompt him to do that which is best for himself—be it good or evil for his neighbor. Consequently, it was the plain duty of every sentient being to defy this Demiurge, to disobey the laws promulgated by him; to practice, instead of refrain from: cheating, robbery, murder, forgery, intemperance, gluttony, debauchery; and that whoever it was that had imposed on mankind the yoke of bondage, the so-called virtues—were he eon, Demiurge, Ben Jonah Hanotzri, or Jesus Christ, deserved persecution, scourging, and crucifixion. "Who then," he demanded in concluding his sacrilegious harangue, "is the true Messiah?"

"Baphomet! Baphomet!" shouted the entire company of knights and ladies as with one voice.

Nebuchadnezzar then beat with his fists on a large tam-tam, upon which the curtain at the end of the saloon was drawn back, revealing a platform on which were two statues, life-size. The one on the right was Baphomet, with the two faces, one masculine, the other feminine. A huge serpent was wound twelve times about the statue; on each of the rings thus formed was engraved one of the twelve signs of the zodiac. One hand held the sun; the other the moon; the feet rested on a globe, that rested in turn on the back of a crocodile.

The other statue represented Mylitta. She was seated on a wild boar; a crown of gleaming rubies and carbuncles adorned her brow. The knights and ladies, one after the other, approached the statues, kissed the shoulders of Baphomet, then the knees of Mylitta.

After this ceremony, they joined hands, forming a circle around the images, and began to dance to a song they chanted in a tongue unknown to me. Before the dance began, I was told to fill all the sacred vessels with the wine contained in several large jars near the entrance. This was drank from time to time in toasts to Baphomet and his companion image.

If my horror was great, my curiosity was greater. I mastered the former feeling, in order to see what would be the end of the sacrilegious orgy.

The wine jars were soon emptied, and I was ordered by Iscariot to refill them in the cellar. On my return to the saloon, I found the company seated around the table; when I approached the Queen of Sheba to refill the chalice, from which she was drinking, she said to me:

"Malchus, this crown of mine is so heavy; go down to the chapel and fetch me the one from the head of the woman of Nazareth."

I went cold from crown to sole at this request.

There was in the chapel a beautiful image of our Lady, with a crown of pearls and diamonds on her head—the gift of a pious princess. To this image the devout folk of the surrounding region made pilgrimages on holy days; and it was covered with all manner of costly gifts from the grateful believers. And this was the "Woman of Nazareth," whose crown I was ordered to fetch for the shameless wanton.

"Didn't you hear the lady's order?" bawled my rufous-bearded patron, thumping the table with his mailed fist. "Go at once to the chapel and fetch the crown."

If I had refused to obey I should have been killed; but I almost fainted with horror while performing the errand. When I returned with the jeweled crown to the hall of the worship of Baphomet, the demon of licentious revelry had been loosed; the women, as well as the men, were dancing with wild abandon. The Queen of Sheba snatched the crown from my hand, adjusted it on her dishevelled locks, then returned to the Phrygian dance, led by herself and Nebuchadnezzar; her hair stood almost straight out from her head, as she whirled around and around, so swiftly, that she and her partner seemed but one form with two faces—like Baphomet whom they worshipped. After all had indulged in the frantic revelry until they sank exhausted to the divans scattered about the hall, I was ordered to collect the sacred vessels and return them to the chapel, and then to go to my rest.

"He must drink with me before he goes," cried Ashtoreth.

"Here, Malchus!" she unloosed from her girdle a flask, and held it to my lips. The flask was an exquisite piece of workmanship; it was made of chased gold and richly set with Turkish fire opals.

"This wine, Malchus," continued the lady, "is the juice of the grape planted by Noah. The stone jar in which it has been preserved for so many centuries stands beside the sarcophagus of my grand-mother Semiramis, in Nineveh—drink, it will do you good."

On my hesitating, she suddenly flung her arm around my neck, drew my head close to her own, took a good pull from the flask, then pressed her lips to mine, and forced me to swallow the wine from her mouth.

Never have I tasted a sweeter, a more intoxicating, more stupefying liquor!

"Now drink," commanded the heathen queen, placing the flask in my hand. I put it to my lips; but perceived at once that the wine had a different taste from that I had received from her mouth. It was bitter, and had a peculiar bouquet. I took only one swallow; but pretended to send several more after the first one.

"You may keep the flask as a remembrance," said the lady when I handed it back to her. She flung it among the church vessels I had collected together in the baptismal basin, the better to carry them back to the chapel.

I hurried from the saloon with my precious burden; carefully washed all the vessels through three waters; then restored them to their proper places in the chapel. When I had reverently placed the crown on our Lady's head, I knelt at her feet, and penitently kissed the hem of her robe.

"Now what shall I do with this thing?" I inquired of myself, surveying the wine-flask in my hand. "Where shall I hide it for safe-keeping? It is worth a deal of money. It would bring me enough to buy an acre of ground, or a mill with five wheels. I'll just fasten it securely, here under my lictor's cuirass for the present." I did so; then, without heeding where I was, I lay down, and almost immediately fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I don't know how long I slept; I was roused by some one shaking me vigorously, and crying: "Wake up! wake up!"

"Yes, yes, Iscariot," I muttered sleepily, "I'll get up directly."

"O, Trifurcifer!" exclaimed a familiar voice; "the wretch calls me Iscariot! Just wait, you drunken rogue! I'll sober you!"

The thorough drenching I received from the large can of water thrown over me, brought me to my senses.

"Well, my pious Silenus!" growled the knight. "You are a fine fellow to set on guard, aren't you? I order you to keep watch outside the door of the crypt until midnight, and find you the next morning lying inside the cellar door, with your mouth under an open faucet. We were obliged to carry you up here—not knowing whether you were alive or dead."

"Where—where is the costly flask Ashtoreth gave me?" I asked, feeling in vain about my body for the souvenir bestowed on me by the heathen queen. There was neither flask nor leather cuirass, only the old coarse habit I had inherited from my predecessor in office.

"Come—come," angrily exclaimed the knight, shaking me again. "Stop dreaming, and hasten to the chapel; it is time to ring the bell for mass."

I could hardly bring myself to believe that it was only a dream—it seemed so real, but I could find no trace of midnight revelry anywhere—indeed, I could not find the winding staircase, which I had ascended from the chapel to the hall of the worship of Baphomet. And yet I doubted.

The chapel was filled at mass with devout worshippers. A solemn scene was when the knights, garbed in coarse gray habits, and bare-footed, crept on hands and knees to the stone coffin, in which lay a waxen image of our Lord. They kissed the marble steps leading to the platform on which the coffin stood, and when I saw them gather about the holy image, my dream seemed so real that, in my excitement, I would have cried in a loud voice to the kneeling congregation:

"People! Christians! rise—rise! do not kneel in the presence of these blasphemers!" had not the white dove on my shoulder pressed her wings against my lips.

Then the rich tones of the organ filled the chapel; and the women's voices chanting the "Miserere" sounded so familiar—exactly like those I had heard in my dream, singing bacchanalian songs—that I said to myself: "That is Ashtoreth's voice—that is Delilah's, and that deep-toned contralto is Jezebel's!" Again I saw the singers emerge from the crypt and move toward the winding stair-case. Ah! it was a dream after all! There was no winding staircase. Where I had seen the open door, which gave egress to it, was a blank wall; and against it the massive marble monument of the grand master, Arminius, who was represented by a recumbent knight in full pontificals, with hands devoutly crossed on his breast.

Yes, it was only a dream!

My heart was relieved of a heavy weight. It was such a relief to feel certain that I had not taken the jeweled crown from our blessed Lady's head; and that the Queen of Sheba had not worn it while dancing in adoration of an idol.

When the services were concluded, and I approached the image of our Lady, to replenish the oil in the perpetual lamp at her feet, the doubts as to my having dreamed the scenes of the bacchanalian revelry came back in full force; some one had been tampering with the jeweled crown on the head of the sacred image—it had been turned around!

There was a pearl in front of the diadem, and a ruby in the back—both as large as a hazel-nut. Today, the ruby gleamed like a coal of fire, where always before the radiance of the pearl had vied with the pure whiteness of the waxen brow. The crown had been reversed—I had not dreamed after all!

This day was, as I have mentioned before, Good Friday—the day of universal fasting. The knights' observance of the day was so rigid that they would not even administer to a dying novice the medicines necessary to alleviate his suffering, because they were composed of manna and hydromel, both of which, containing nutriment, were considered food. Even I fasted the entire day—of a necessity, though, for there was nothing served in the refectory!

My elastic conscience would have permitted me to partake—sparingly, of course!—of food; and I regretted that I had not possessed the forethought to lay aside from the banquet of the preceding night (if it really had not been a dream) the legs of a three thousand-year-old quail!

But, had I done so, they would doubtless have vanished with the pretty flask given me by the heathen queen. When I made my duty-rounds as usual on Good Friday evening, I found my red-bearded patron waiting for me in the sacristy. He said to me:

"This evening, Malchus, you will watch as before at the door of the crypt—but see that you stop there, and keep awake! Don't let me find you again in the cellar tomorrow morning."

I said to myself: "I shall be very sure not to go to sleep this time!"

The guests arrived earlier this evening. The clock in the tower had not yet ceased striking eleven, when the three knocks sounded on the crypt door.

The ancient beauties did not think it necessary to introduce themselves as before, but they gave me the same orders for the sacred vessels.

When I moved toward the altar, in obedience to the Queen of Sheba's behest, she called after me: "Don't look back, Malchus; if you do Satan will fly away with you!"

I did not look backward; I had no need. When I held the gold lid of the chalice in front of me, it served the same purpose as a mirror, and in it I saw Jezebel walk up to the Arminius monument, lay her hand against the head of the recumbent statue, and thrust it to one side, whereupon the entire mass of marble swung noiselessly forward, revealing an opening in the wall through which I saw a winding staircase.

Pretending not to have seen anything, or to notice anything unusual in the opening in the wall, I followed the ladies up the stair with the articles they bade me bring after them.

The long table in Baphomet's hall was again loaded with all sorts of eatables: baked meats, pastry, sweets, fruits. "Meats!" I exclaimed to myself, "meats on Good Friday, when all Christians, even the Calvinists, fast and read their prayer-books to find consolation for their souls and forgetfulness for their stomachs!" And what a feast it was! One might well have believed that hosts and guests had not eaten anything for two or three thousand years! Had I been endowed with the hands of an Aegeon I could not have supplied the viands and wine as rapidly as the hungry and thirsty revelers demanded them of me. I seemed to be continually running to, or returning from, the wine-cellar.

Similar scenes to those enacted the preceding night followed the banquet; only with variations one would hardly believe the human mind capable of inventing.

The Queen of Sheba was even more reckless and abandoned than before; she ordered me to bring her the mantle from the shoulders of the "Woman of Nazareth." I hesitated again to perform the sacrilegious errand, but a sound blow on my back from Iscariot's fist sent me hurrying to the chapel.

When I returned with the mantle the queen was in need of it, for she was not to be distinguished from the nude goddess on the back of the wild boar. I was so ashamed for her, I could not lift my eyes when I handed her the mantle. Ashtoreth laughed heartily at me, and exclaimed:

"Here, Malchus, I will drink to Baphomet from this flask; then you shall drink to me."

She drank first, then handed the flask to me; it was the same one she had presented to me the night before.

I had learned something since then! I knew there were trick flasks with two compartments, which might contain two different kinds of liquor without becoming mixed. If the neck of the flask were turned to the right, one of the compartments would be opened; the contents of the other would flow, were the neck turned to the left.

When the heathen queen placed the flask to her lips I had watched her closely, and had seen that her wrist turned slightly to the right. This movement I took good care to copy when I drank, and, as I had guessed, the wine was deliciously sweet.

I took a good, long pull before removing the flask from my lips.

"Very good wine, isn't it?" observed Ashtoreth.

"A trifle bitter," I replied, making a wry face, upon which she filliped my nose with her finger, and exclaimed, laughingly:

"You don't know what is good, Malchus! The wine in this flask is some of that left from the marriage feast at Cana. You may keep this flask, too; put it with the one I gave you last night."

This remark set the entire blasphemous crew into a roar of merriment.

"You may remove these vessels now," said Nebuchadnezzar, when the laughter had subsided, "and fetch us some spiritus vini."

I removed the unclean church vessels and brought from the cellar a large stone jug of spiritus vini. The simple juice of the grape was not strong enough for the drunken demons; they wanted the more fiery brandy.

An idea came into my head as I was going to the cellar. The spiritus vini was made in Russia; the mouths of the jugs containing it were sealed so skillfully that only those persons who understood the secret could remove the cork. I had learned this secret while with the haidemaken.

I opened the jug in the cellar, poured out some of the brandy, and filled it up with the drugged wine in the flask intended for me. Then I sealed up the jug and took it to the banquet hall.

"Did you drink any of it?" demanded the knight whom the rest called Herod, when I set the jug on the table.

"I swear by Baphomet I did not!" I replied truthfully.

"Then open the jug," commanded Pilate.

I made believe to pull and tug and twist the cork—I could not remove it from the neck. At last Ahab snatched the jug impatiently from my hands, and after trying in vain for several moments to accomplish what I had failed to do, he set it in a silver basin and struck at the neck with his sword. The jug was broken, of course, and the liquor filled the basin. Then, Bathsheba and Tamar flung into it figs, raisins and orange peel; Delilah took a lighted taper from the candelabra and set fire to the huge dish of crambamboli; at the same moment all the other lights in the hall were extinguished.

Nebuchadnezzar now began to ladle out the burning liquor into goblets which he passed to the rest of the company. The flame dispensing king, with his four horns, the fire-sipping forms around him, their faces blanched to a death-like pallor by the green-blue light of the burning brandy, formed a group that excelled in hideousness every illustration I had yet seen of the danse macabre.

I fled in horror and disgust from the infernal orgy, fully convinced that I was not dreaming this time. I was determined to make my escape from the abode of demons and idol worshippers.

I said to myself: "If these human beings—that they are not phantoms I am convinced—came to the castle through the crypt, then I, another human being, may go out the way they entered."

I took my lamp, descended to the crypt, and discovered that one of the memorials, which lined the walls, had been shoved to one side. An examination of this memento to a deceased knight revealed that it was not a slab of marble, but a sheet of tin painted to imitate the more solid material. Nor was the niche it covered a tomb, but the outlet to a narrow stairway that ascended in steep spirals from the crypt, opposite to the one which descended to it from the chapel.

"I took my lamp, descended to the crypt"

I mounted seventeen steps, when further progress was barred by a statue—that of Saint Sebastian. The heroic martyr was represented bound to a tree, his body filled with arrows, as he had appeared when being tortured to death by the commands of the godless Diocletian.

I had seen this statue often enough by day in the reception-hall of the castle; then it stood in its niche face toward the room; here, at the head of the secret stairway from the crypt, it stood with its face also toward me. "Surely," said I to myself, "St. Sebastian must know something about the secret outlet."

And he did.

I began to examine the niche; then the statue. I noticed that three of the arrows in the breast were brass, and that the one in the middle was brighter than the other two, as if it had been taken hold of frequently. I mounted the pedestal, and, with one arm around the saint to steady myself, I tried to turn the brighter arrow. After a little, it yielded to the pressure of my hand, and the statue, as well as the niche, began to turn slowly on an unseen axis, and in a few moments I saw the starlit sky above me.

Then I turned the arrow in the opposite direction, and found myself returned to my prison. I had solved the mystery of the phantoms' appearance in the chapel! I returned to the chapel and examined the mechanism concealed under the Arminius monument. What would be the result, I asked myself, if I turned the head of the grand master back to its proper position?

I did so, and the monument swung back to its place, concealing the entrance to the hall of Baphomet.

By this time the blasphemers in the hall were sound asleep, and heaven alone knew when they would waken! And when they did, they would not be able to get out of their Satan's temple, for it had neither door nor windows.

No one would know what had become of them—whither they had gone. When they found a way out of their prison—if ever—I should be far enough away over mountain and valley!

I sketched a rapid plan of escape: I would go to the Archbishop of Aix-la-Chapelle and lay information against the knights of Baphomet; and, in order to gain credence for my story, I would take with me the desecrated church vessels. No devout Christian should drink again from the chalice defiled by the lips of Salome and Delilah; should have his offspring christened from the basin polluted by Nebuchadnezzar; should receive the holy water from the aspergill, defiled by being used to stir the infernal mixture concocted by Tamar and Bathsheba; not one of the vessels should be used again, until they had been thoroughly cleansed and re-consecrated by the proper authorities.

"A most praiseworthy determination! You proved yourself a true Christian!" exclaimed the prince, deeply incensed by the impiety of the dornenritter, the mere hearing of whose licentious conduct made a godly man feel the need of absolution. "You did what any honest and respectable Christian would have done in your place!"

"Didn't I say so?" in triumph exclaimed the mayor, beating the table with his staff. "Didn't I say the rascal would talk himself out of the church robbery? Instead of sentencing him for the crime, he is commended for it."

Hereupon the prince and the mayor became involved in so animated a dispute that each sprang from his chair and begun to pound with his fists on the table with such vigor that the candle-sticks, ink-horn and sand-box danced quite a lively jig.

The argument continued until his highness suddenly remembered what was becoming to his dignity; then he rapped the court to order and announced that the hearing was adjourned until the next day.

The following morning Hugo resumed his confession:

I found a stout leather bag in the sacristy, into which I put all the church vessels of gold and silver which had been defiled in the bacchanalian orgies. I did not forget the Virgin's diadem, either.

My left shoulder ached dreadfully under the heavy load, but, because the white dove I told you about was perched on the other shoulder, I would not shift the bag from side to side, which would have made it easier to carry. The revolving Saint Sebastian enabled me to escape from the castle, but I still had a high bastion to scale. I found the rope ladder by means of which the women had climbed over, and very soon I was on the high road, travelling as swiftly as I could for the heavy bag, toward the harbor—

"Hold!" interrupted the chair, "I've caught you at last! If what you have told us is true, why didn't you go at once with the bag of church property to the burgomaster of the city, and tell him of your discovery at the castle? The impious revellers might have been taken into custody that same night."

"Yes—yes—" the prince made haste to add, "why didn't you do that, instead of thinking it necessary to escape on a ship?"

"I believe I can explain my action to the satisfaction of the high-born gentlemen," deferentially responded the prisoner. "You will understand at once why I wanted to take a ship, when I tell you the name of the city. It was Stettin. It was in possession, at that time, of Gustavus Adolphus, whose heretic generals cared very little whether the Blessed Virgin or Baphomet were worshipped in the Catholic churches, which had already been desecrated more than once by themselves. Indeed, the relations between the knights and the heretics was most friendly, because the former had joined forces with the Swedes, and had fought bravely against the imperial beleaguerers. They were loyal comrades in arms with the heretics. That is why I deemed it wiser to escape from the city—"

"And you were right—quite right!" with unmistakable approval in his tone, commented the prince. "The Swedish heretics were not the proper authorities to settle so sacred and important a matter. The furtum sacrosanctorum may be stricken from the list of indictments."

"As may all that follow!" growled the mayor into his beard. "Now we shall hear how this innocent criminal disposes of the homicidium!"

PART V.
THE HOMICIDE.

CHAPTER I.
ON BOARD MYNHEER'S SHIP.

A convincing proof of my honest and pious intentions is, that notwithstanding I was in great need of money—I hadn't a penny to my name!—it never occurred to me to help myself from the alms-box at the door of the chapel, which, at such seasons like Passion Week, was always well filled.

I had no "motive" to carry the box with me—it had not been defiled by sacrilegious hands.

I still wore the dress in which I had masqueraded as a lictor: the Roman balten, the leathern caliga, the chalizeh sandals with straps, and the ancient Hebrew pallium. Anywhere else in the civilized world a man garbed as I was would have been arrested as a vagabond lunatic; but I was not molested in Stettin.

That city, under Swedish domination, was a free port; the mouth of the Oder was crowded with vessels of all sorts, from all countries. The quay swarmed with negroes, Spaniards, Turks, Chinese—all nationalities, all the costumes of the globe were represented. Consequently no one, however striking may have been his garb, would have attracted special attention. Nor did I, as I passed through the crowd in search of a vessel that was lifting her anchor, preparatory to sailing at once.

Chance led me to a Dutch ship.

The owner of the craft, Mynheer Ruissen, paid no attention to me until after we were out of the harbor, and were scudding before a favorable wind. Then, as he was passing along the deck, his eyes fell on me, where I was sitting near the rail, with my bag by my side.

He stopped in front of me, thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat, and, after a moment's close scrutiny, addressed me in a language I had never heard before. He tried several different tongues—oriental by their sound—with the same result. I could only indicate by shaking my head that I did not understand him. At last he became impatient, and exclaimed in Flemish:

"Potztausend-wetter! What language does this fellow speak, I wonder?"

I understood him then, and told him I could speak Dutch, and that I was not a heathen from the Orient, but a native of Europe, and a Christian like himself.

"And where are you going, may I ask?"

"Wherever your ship will take me," I answered.

"Have you the money to pay for your passage?"

"Not a solitary batz."

"Have you anything of value?"

"I have a beautiful golden flask set with precious gems, which I will give you as a pledge, or in payment—as you prefer."

"Did you come by it honestly?"

"I will take my oath that I did not steal it. A beautiful woman gave it to me as a souvenir. May I sink with this ship to the bottom of the sea, if every word I tell you is not true!"

"Na, Na,! you needn't mind swearing in that way," hastily interposed Mynheer. "I don't want my ship to go to the bottom of the sea! Is the flask worth enough to pay for your passage to Hamburg?"

"It would fetch more than your whole ship!"