Black Forest Village Stories Part 43

"I'm in for it. What time?"

"About eight o'clock, I guess."

After another shake of the hand, Florian left his accomplice. As he emerged from the dark house to the sunlight, he staggered like a drunken man, and was obliged to stand still for a time and steady himself by the wall. Then he went all through the village, whistling and singing: Crescence alone he avoided with a sort of terror.

It seemed as if the crime were already perpetrated. He looked at people's faces, to see whether their features showed any marks of suspicion; and then, again, "What's the odds?" he said to himself: "they don't think much of me, anyhow." Still, he was glad to remember that the thing was not yet really accomplished. Once, on seeing Buchmaier, he felt a desire to run away; but, ashamed of his weakness, he renewed his vow not to falter in his purpose.

After dark, the boys and girls came to the dance, some of them bringing wedding-presents. According to custom, they had three dances each.

Florian was among these arrivals. The bride came to welcome him, saying, "Are you here too? Where's Crescence? I suppose she don't feel much like dancing. Be sure you do the fair thing by her, Florian. Come; let's have our last dance together."

The best dancer in the village was for once soon compelled to stop. His knees shook: with such thoughts in his heart as he had, and with no soles to his boots, it was not easy to waltz well.

"What's the matter with you? Why, you always danced like a humming-top," said the bride. "Well, never mind. You don't know how sorry I am not to see Crescence any more. We were always the best of friends; but we're going off very early to-morrow morning. Come: I'll give you a piece of wedding-cake for her: bring it to her, and say 'Good-bye' from me."

[Ill.u.s.tration: He received the cake and a gla.s.s of warm wine.]

Florian followed her into the back room, where he received the cake and a gla.s.s of warm wine, which he swallowed at a draught. He found new vigor coursing through his veins. As soon as he could, he stole away,--soon returned, however, and then left again.

Schlunkel was already waiting behind Meyer's house with a little ladder. There was no light: the whole family had gone to the wedding.

The breach was soon effected, and they slipped in. Having forced the kitchen and the room door and the press, they found the money and pocketed it, as well as some silver spoons and cups.

Florian was in the yard again, while Schlunkel tugged at a piece of bedding which would not pa.s.s through the narrow aperture. Just at this moment the owner of the house, who was coming up the stairs and had seen the doors open, entered the kitchen and saw the pillow in motion: he seized it on the inside and shouted l.u.s.tily for help. Schlunkel released his hold, fell upon the ground, and broke his leg. Florian tried to help him; but, hearing the sound of footsteps, he only whispered, "Don't betray me: you shall have the half," and made his escape.

Schlunkel persisted in saying that he had had no accomplices. In regard to a piece of wedding-cake which, was found in the yard, his declarations varied: at first he pretended to know nothing about it, but subsequently he remembered it was one of the articles stolen.

Florian had been seen at the dance about that time, and no one dared to suppose he was in any manner connected with the crime.

12.

NEW BOOTS, AND HOW THEY PINCHED.

Florian intended to run away with the money and to send for Crescence to follow him; but his boots would not consent to the plan. So he went to town and bought a pair of new ones. What a comfort it was! For months he had walked with downcast eyes, carefully avoiding every little puddle; and at last he could tread the slippery road without fear or favor. To enjoy the change fully, he even extended his walk a little farther than was necessary.

But soon his walks came to a sudden close. He had accidentally paid out a perforated dollar, of a description exactly answering to that of one designated by the man who had been robbed. That same evening the squire came, with a beadle and a _gens d'armes_, to arrest him.

At his earnest request, Buchmaier consented to have him led through the gardens instead of along the street.

As he walked along he complained bitterly of his misfortune, and protested his innocence. This is usual when persons are arrested, whether guilty or innocent. It is so natural to appeal to the humanity of those who surround the prisoner like moving walls, ere he has reached the heartless stones of the jail. When the Jeremiad is finished, the answer is, invariably, "We shall see that at the proper time: it's none of our business now." Then the unfortunate one comes to understand that he has been asking the stone hurled by a force outside of itself, "Why smitest thou me?"--that he has been begging the net in which he is ensnared to pity him and set him free.

Florian had spoken without any ulterior design at first; but presently it occurred to him that it might be well to talk in the same strain before the judge. He therefore spoke at great length,--for lies are easier when you have practised them than when they appear as first efforts.

Not more than fifty florins had been found in Florian's possession; and these, he said, he had won at play at the Horb fair. Besides the perforated dollar, an important circ.u.mstance going to show his guilt was the wedding-cake found in the yard: several of the girls had seen the bride give him the present. Florian denied every thing. He had heard somewhere that "denial was lawful in Wurtemberg;" and this maxim comprised his entire knowledge of jurisprudence.

Many of the villagers, who previously would never have allowed themselves to suspect any evil of Florian, now boasted loudly that they had said ten years ago that Florian would come to no good, and revived the memory of all the forgotten, pranks of his boyhood.

Florian meditated a flight. One night he pulled down the tile stove which stood at the wall of his cell and formed a part of it, and escaped by the hole thus made in the wall. His escape was just like the crime. This brought him to the corridor, but no farther. It was locked; and to jump out of the window was as much as his life was worth. His eye fell on a broom which stood in a corner. Without hesitation, he opened the window, pressed the end of the broom into the corner formed by the junction of the tower with the side-building, balanced himself on the handle, and slid down to the ground.

The watchman had seen him; but he crossed himself three times and ran up the nearest alley,--for he had beheld the devil himself riding through the air on a broomstick.

Thus Florian was free, Running up the street, he crept into a covered sewer, tore up the earth with his hands, found the money, and ran off through the woods.

During his imprisonment, Crescence's mother had died, and the Red Tailor, forced to yield to one of those general bursts of neighborly feeling which are the relieving features of village life, had allowed his daughter to return to his house.

In the night of Florian's escape she awoke from her sleep in terror.

She had dreamed that Florian had called her out to dance, and, do what she would, she could not get her stocking on her foot. Weeping, she sat up in her bed and spoke the prayer for the poor souls in purgatory.

Hearing the clock strike four, she arose and did all the housework.

Before daybreak she went into the wood to get kindling. Indeed, ever since her misfortune her activity was morbid: she seemed anxious to compensate for the idle life of Florian. Though no thanks rewarded her industry, she had scarcely left a nook or corner of the house not garnered with dry sticks and fir-cones.

At the edge of the wood she found a white b.u.t.ton, which she recognised as belonging to Florian's jacket and secreted in her bosom. Looking over the landscape, she said to herself, "My cross is great; and if I were to climb to the top of the highest hill I couldn't look beyond it."

She returned without having gathered any thing. On hearing of Florian's flight, she wept and rejoiced: she wept because she could no longer doubt he was a criminal, and rejoiced to know that he was free.

13.

THE GAUNTLET.

At night Florian built himself a hut of some sheaves in a harvest-field and slept in it.

In a tavern he had stolen a knife, having at the same time concealed twelve creutzers in the salt-cellar: with this implement he now sc.r.a.ped off his mustache.

Nevertheless, he had no sooner crossed the frontier than he was arrested. This time he did not stop to enlist the pity of the _gens d'armes_, but defended himself with all his might and made desperate efforts to get free: he was thrown down, however, and manacled.

He was now forwarded from circuit to circuit by the hands of the _gens d'armes_. In silence he walked along, his right hand chained to his right foot: he looked upon himself as upon an animal driven to the slaughter.

But when, coming from Sulz, he issued from the Empfingen copse and found that he was to be dragged in chains through his native village, he fell on his knees before the _gens d'armes_ and begged him with tears to be so merciful as to take him around outside of the village.

But the voice of authority answered "No," and Florian struck his left hand into his eyes to blind himself to his own degradation: his right hand rattled helplessly in the chain. Florian--the cynosure of neighboring eyes, he who had known no keener joy than to be the object of universal attention--was now to be exposed in these shameful trappings and in such disgraceful company. For the first time in his life he could have prayed that people might not have eyes to cast upon him. As he pa.s.sed the Red Tailor's house, Crescence was chopping wood at the pile. The hatchet dropped from her hand, and for a moment she stood paralyzed: the next instant she rushed upon Florian with open arms and fell upon his neck. The _gens d'armes_ disengaged her gently.

"I'll go with you through the village," said Crescence, without weeping. "You sha'n't bear your shame alone. Does the iron hurt you?

Don't fret too much, for my sake."

[Ill.u.s.tration: She walked by his side.]

Florian, unable to speak, motioned to her with his left hand to turn back; but she walked by his side, as if riveted to him by an invisible chain. The news spread through the village like wildfire. Caspar and Babbett were standing before the Eagle: the former had a mug of beer in his hand, and brought it to Florian to drink. The _gens d'armes_ would not permit it. Florian begged them not to let Crescence go any farther, and Babbett at last persuaded her to remain. All were weeping.

He went alone through the rest of the familiar streets.

George the blacksmith, prevented by the cold from sitting in front of his door, saw him from behind his window and touched his cap from sheer embarra.s.sment. At the manor-house farmer's he met the French simpleton, who pointed to his upper lip, saying, "_Mus a loni ringo._" In spite of himself, a painful smile pa.s.sed over Florian's features.

When at last he had left the last hut behind him, he vowed never to return to his old home again.

His incarceration was now more severe than it had been: though in the same tower as formerly, he was kept in the most secure apartment. He often looked through the grating; but when a Nordstetter pa.s.sed he started back as if he had been shot.

As the anguish of his mind became more subdued, he tried many devices to pa.s.s away the time. He walked about with a blade of straw standing on his forehead: when this became easy, he added others, until at last he could build a whole house and take it to pieces again. With much exertion, he learned to stand out horizontally from the iron bars, and even acquired the art of placing his knees behind his head.

One day, in looking through the grating, he saw Crescence coming to town. Hot tears fell on the iron bars: he could not speak to her,--scarcely give her a sign.

At night he heard a cough beneath the window, which was repeated several times. Recognising Crescence, he returned the signal. Crescence unwound the red ribbon which had adorned her hair since the bel-wether dance, tied it round a letter and a stone, and flung it up to Florian, who caught it adroitly. She went briskly away; but in the distance Florian caught the last words of the song,--