Debit and Credit Part 64

"Follow me!" cried Anton, in a loud voice; "draw close; forward! let's leave the town."

The forester sprang from side to side, marshaling the men; Anton and the bailiff led the way. As they reached the corner of the market-place, scythes were crossed; and the leader of the party c.o.c.ked his gun, and said theatrically, "Why do you wish to leave, my fine sir? Take arms, ye people; to-day is the day of liberty!"

He said no more, for the forester, springing forward, gave him such an astounding box on the ear that he reeled and fell, his gun dropping from his hand. A loud cry arose; the forester caught up the gun, and the scythe-bearers, taken by surprise, were dashed aside, their scythes taken from them, and broken on the pavement. Thus the German band reached the gates, and there, too, the enemy yielded, and the dense ma.s.s pa.s.sed on unmolested till they reached the inn appointed. There the bailiff, urged on by Anton, addressed the people:

"There is a plot against the government. There is a plot against us Germans. Our armed enemies are few, and we have just seen that we can manage them. Let every orderly man remain here, and help the citizens to drive out the strangers. The town militia will send us word how we can best do this, therefore remain together, countrymen!"

At these words, many cried "We will! we will!" but many, too, grew fearful, and stole away home. Those who remained looked out for arms as best they could, taking up pitchforks, bars of iron, wooden cudgels, or whatever else lay ready to hand.

"I came here to buy powder and shot," said the forester to Anton. "Now I have a gun, and I will fire my very last charge, if we can only revenge the insult they have offered to our eagle."

Meanwhile the hours pa.s.sed as usual at the castle, and it was now about noon. The baron, accompanied by his wife, walked in the sunshine, grumbling because the molehills against which his foot tripped were not yet leveled. This led him to the conclusion that there was no reliance to be placed upon hired dependents of any kind; and that Wohlfart was the most forgetful of his cla.s.s. On this theme he enlarged with a kind of gloomy satisfaction, the baroness only contradicting him as far as she could without putting him out of temper. At last he sat down on a chair that one of the servants carried after him, and quietly listened to his daughter, who was discussing with Karl the best site for a small plantation. No one thought of mischief, and each one was occupied with things immediately around him.

Then came the rumor of some great disaster, flying on wings of evil omen over the wide plain. It swooped down on the baron's oasis, heavily fluttered over pines and wild pear-trees, corn-fields and meadows, till it reached the castle. At first it was indistinct, like a little cloud on a sunny sky; but soon it grew, it darkened the air, it brooded with its black pinions over all hearts--it made the blood stand still in the veins, and filled the eyes with burning tears.

In the middle of his work, Karl suddenly looked up, and said in dismay, "That was a shot."

Lenore started, then laughed at her own terror. "I did not hear it,"

said she; "perhaps it was the forester."

"The forester is gone to town," replied Karl, gravely.

"Then it is some confounded poacher in the wood," cried the baron, angrily.

"It was a cannon shot," maintained the positive Karl.

"That is impossible," said the baron; but he himself listened with intense attention; "there are no cannon for many miles round."

The next moment a voice sounded out from the farm-yard, "There is a fire in Rosmin."

Karl looked at his young lady, threw down his spade, and ran toward the farm-yard. Lenore followed him.

"Who said that there was a fire in Rosmin?" he inquired. Not one would own that he had, but all ran in dismay to the high road, though the town was six miles off, and no view of it was to be had from thence.

"Many scared women have been running along toward Neudorf," said one servant; and another added, "There must be mischief going on in Rosmin, for we can see the smoke rise above the wood." All thought, indeed, that they did perceive a dark cloud in that direction, Karl as well as the rest.

"The n.o.bles are all there to-day," cried one. "They have set the town on fire." Another professed to have heard from a man in the fields that this was to be a serious day for landed proprietors; then, looking askance at Karl, he added, "Many things may yet happen before evening."

Next came the landlord, exclaiming, "If this day were but over!" and Karl returned, "Would that it were!" yet no one knew exactly why.

From that hour, fresh messengers of ill succeeded each other. "The soldiers and the Poles are fighting," said one. "Kunau is on fire too,"

cried some women who had been working in the fields. At last came the farmer's wife, running up to Lenore. "My husband sends me because he won't leave the farm on a day like this. He wishes to know whether you have any tidings of the forester; there is murder going on in the town, and people say the forester is shooting away in the midst of it all."

"Who says so?" asked the baron.

"One who came running across the fields told it to my husband; and it must be true that there is an uproar in the town, for when the forester went thither he had no gun."

Thus the dark rumor spread. Karl had much difficulty in getting the men out again to their plowing. Lenore meantime went up to the tower with him, but they could not be positive whether or not there was smoke in the direction of Rosmin. They had scarcely got down, when one of the farmer's servants came back with his horses to say that a man from the next district had told him, as he galloped past, that Rosmin was filled with men bearing red flags, and armed with scythes; and that all the Germans in the country were to be shot. The baroness wrung her hands and began to weep, and her husband lost all the self-command he had sought to exercise. He burst out into loud complaints against Wohlfart for not being on the spot on a day like this, and gave Karl a dozen contradictory orders in quick succession. Lenore could not endure her suspense within the castle walls, but kept as much as she could with Karl, in whose trusty face she found more comfort than in any thing else. Both looked constantly along the high road to see if a carriage or a messenger were coming.

"He is peaceable," said she to Karl, hoping for confirmation from him.

"Surely he would never expose himself to such fearful risk."

But Karl shook his head. "There is no trusting to that. If things in the town are as people say, Mr. Anton will not be the last to take a hand in them. He will not think of himself."

"No, that he will not," cried Lenore, wringing her hands.

So the day pa.s.sed. Karl sternly insisted upon keeping all the servants together, he himself shouldering his carbine, not knowing why, and saddling a horse to tie it up again in the stable. At evening the landlord came running to the castle, accompanied by a servant from the distillery. As soon as he saw the young lady, the good-natured man called out, "Here are tidings, dreadful tidings, of Mr. Wohlfart."

Lenore ran forward, and the servant began to give a confused report of the horrors of the day in Rosmin. He had seen the Poles and Germans about to fire at each other in the market-place, and Anton was marching at the head of the latter.

"I knew that," cried Karl, proudly.

The servant went on to say that he had run off just as all the Poles had taken aim at the gentleman. Whether he were alive or dead, he could not exactly say, owing to his terror at the time, but he fully believed that the gentleman must be dead.

Lenore leaned against the wall, Karl tore his hair in distraction.

"Saddle the pony," said Lenore, in a smothered voice.

"You are not thinking of going yourself at night through the wood all the way to the town?" cried Karl.

The brave girl hurried toward the stable without answering him; Karl barred the way. "You must not. The baroness would die with anxiety about you, and what could you do among those raging men yonder?"

Lenore stood still. "Then go for him," said she, half unconscious; "bring him to us, alive or dead."

"Can I leave you alone on a day like this?" cried Karl, beside himself.

Lenore s.n.a.t.c.hed his carbine from him. "Go, if you love him. I will mount guard in your stead."

Karl rushed to the farm-yard, got out his horse, and galloped off along the Rosmin road. The sound of the horse's hoofs soon died away, and all was still. Lenore paced up and down before the castle walls; her friend was in mortal peril, perhaps lost; and the fault was hers, for she had brought him hither. She called to mind in her despair all that he had been to her and to her parents. To live on in this solitude without him seemed impossible. Her mother sent for her, her father called to her out of the window, but she paid no attention. Every other feeling was merged in the realization of the pure and sincere attachment that had existed between her and him she had lost.

To return to Rosmin, Anton and his party had remained for about half an hour in expectation before the Red Deer. The frightened market-people kept pouring by, on their way to their village homes; many of them, indeed, pa.s.sed on, but many, too, remained with their countrymen, and even several Poles went up to Anton and asked whether they could be of use to him. At length came the locksmith, by a back way, in his green uniform and epaulette, followed by some of the town militia.

Anton rushed up to see how things were going on.

"There are eighteen of us," said the locksmith, "all safe men. The people in the market-place are dispersing, and those in the wine-store are not much stronger than before. Our captain is as brave as a lion. If you will help him, he is prepared to try a bold stroke. We can get into Lowenberg's house from behind. I made the lock on the back door myself.

If we manage cleverly, we can surprise the leaders of the insurrection, and take them and their arms."

"We must attack them both in front and in the rear," replied Anton.

"Then we shall be sure of them."

"Yes," said the locksmith, a little crestfallen, "if you and your party will attack them in front."

"We have no arms," cried Anton. "I will go with you, and so will the forester and a few more, perhaps; but an unarmed band against scythes and a dozen guns is out of the question."

"Look you, now," said the worthy locksmith; "it comes hard to us, too.

Those who have just left wives and children in their first alarm are not much inclined to make targets of themselves. Our people are full of good-will, but those men yonder are desperate, and therefore let us get in quietly from behind. If we can surprise them, there will be the less bloodshed, and that's the chief thing. I have got no arms, only a sword for you."

The party accordingly set off in silence, the locksmith leading the way.

"Our men are a.s.sembled in the captain's house," said he; "we can enter it through the garden without being seen."

At length, having got over hedges and ditches, they found themselves in the court-yard of a dyer.