Joseph in the Snow, and The Clockmaker Volume I Part 9

"Now give us once more the signal, that we may all know it thoroughly,"

said Edward; and the stocking weaver blew his horn with all his might.

Scarcely had the sound died away, when Martina came running up and exclaimed: "Here are his clothes."

"Let the dogs smell the clothes," said Edward.

Martina would have been almost knocked down by the dogs who surrounded her, if Haspele had not had the sense to take the bundle from her.

"Call to the dogs,--'Seek Joseph'!" commanded Edward; "and now forward!

march! Joseph is our battle cry."

"Halt!" shouted a deep powerful voice from the opposite side, "what is the matter?"

"Adam," cried Martina, rushing up to him, "what have you there? have you found our Joseph?"

"Our Joseph! what do you mean? This is the wolf that I killed with my cudgel."

"The wolf that tore our child to pieces," cried Martina, clenching her hands in agony, and staring down at the dead animal. Haspele, very properly, told Adam in few words what had occurred. Adam was still holding the animal by the neck, and now he shook the dead creature violently, and hurled it with superhuman strength far away over the ditch into the field. Then he said:--

"I make a solemn vow here, before you all, that whether our child is found or not, my Martina is mine for life or death. May G.o.d forgive me for having been so long a weak undecided, good-for-nothing fellow! but listen to me, men all. Each of you may strike me in the face if I do not take my Martina to my own house, even if father, mother, and the whole world are against it."

"For heaven's sake, don't talk of this just now," said Martina, hiding her face on Adam's breast, and bursting for the first time into tears; Adam laid his hand fondly on her head, his breast heaving with the thick sobs which closely followed each other. Never did any one see Adam weep but that once.

The whole a.s.semblage, at a silent signal from Edward, had gone forward with their bells, dogs, and torches; Haspele alone stayed behind with the unhappy parents, and when Adam looked up, large tears were glittering in his eyes in the light of the torch. Adam, however, stood erect, and said energetically: "Come, Martina, we shall certainly find him. I cannot think that he is dead; I heard him calling in the wood; I could not believe that it was really a human voice, and yet it was the voice of my child."

"And how often he called you during the night, and you could not hear him!"

"If he is still alive, I will cherish henceforth every word of his."

"G.o.d grant it! Amen," said Haspele in a low voice, and went on before them with his torch; and the two followed him close together.

CHAPTER XIII.

A TROOP OF HOBGOBLINS.

"Let me carry the clothes; give me his clothes," said Adam, as they went along.

"No, I cannot part with them, they are all I now have belonging to him, and I have the new boots in the bundle, that he never wore, and in my hurry I brought his little wooden horse, too."

"Does he like horses? then he will like me also."

"Oh! do not speak so lightly; remember that he may be dead."

"The child may have lost himself in the wood, and yet not be dead; and who knows whether he may not be at home at this moment, having gone of his own accord, or some one have brought him home."

As a token of grat.i.tude for these consoling words, Martina placed the bundle of clothes on Adam's arm, saying, "Carry them for me." When they pa.s.sed by a weeping willow close to the road, which looked very singular, its drooping branches all hung with snow and glittering in the torchlight, Martina continued: "Do you see that tree? When our Joseph was not quite three years old, I was walking here with him, and on seeing the leaves hanging down, he said, 'Mother! that tree is raining leaves.' He often spoke such strange things, that it was quite puzzling to know whether one was on earth or in heaven, and what one could do, or ought to do with him; and he is grown so strong, so very strong; I was obliged to use all my strength when I wished to hold him--and now to die such a death! it is too dreadful. Joseph! Joseph!

my darling Joseph! Oh! where are you now? I am here, your mother and your father too. Joseph! Joseph! oh come! Call him, Adam, can't you shout out his name?"

"Joseph! Joseph!" called Adam with his powerful voice, "My child! come to me; Joseph! Joseph!" and Adam, who once trembled to p.r.o.nounce the child's name even secretly, now shouted it loudly in the wood. Soon, however, he desisted, and said, "It is no use, Martina; try to be quiet, or you will make yourself ill."

"If my Joseph is dead, I don't care to live either; I care for nothing more in this world."

"I cannot believe that, Martina; surely you have some love for me still."

"Oh heavens! don't wrangle with me just now," said Martina sorrowfully.

For a long time neither spoke a word. Haspele proved a good mediator, for he came up to Martina and begged her to take a mouthful of the Kirschwa.s.ser that he had most thoughtfully brought for Joseph.

"No, no, I need nothing. I cannot take what the child may require."

"Do take a single mouthful," entreated Adam, as tenderly as his rough voice could be modulated. "Remember, our Joseph cannot drink it all if we find him."

"If we find him? Why do you say that? You know something, and are keeping it from me; I feel sure that you know he is dead."

"I know nothing whatever--as little as you do yourself. I do beg you will take one mouthful of the Kirschwa.s.ser."

"Ah! if my Joseph had it, it might restore him to life. I need nothing--leave me in peace." But Adam persisted till Martina took some, and this was a good opportunity for him to get hold of her hand again, and then they pursued their way hand in hand.

Martina spoke very low, and told Adam what a singularly reserved boy Joseph was; and that he had often whispered things to her, that he might have quite well said loud out before everybody; but his peculiarity was, to prefer saying things secretly; and no doubt he had something secret to tell his father, and then he would have been able to discern how it made you creep, when Joseph with his warm breath said something close to your ear. "His warm breath is now frozen," added she, wringing her hands.

Soon she suddenly seized Adam's arm, saying pa.s.sionately, "Look! there is the very rock, where once on a time I wished to die along with him, when Leegart found me. If we had died together then, before he came into the world, it might have been better for both of us. Oh! where is he now? perhaps he is lying two steps from us, and yet we cannot see him, and he cannot hear us. I will go from hill to hill, to the top of every rock, and down into every valley, to seek my boy."

"Try to be more composed," said Adam, kindly; but Martina's excitement every instant increased, and she turned hastily to him saying:--

"You are to blame! a father can deny his child, and pa.s.s him by as if he were nothing to him in this world--but a mother--never! You did this!"

"Why do you reproach me at such a moment as this?"

"I do not reproach you. Why are you so cruel?"

"I am neither unkind nor cruel--only do try to command your feelings; from this day forth all your sorrows shall cease. Come closer to me, my Martina!"

"No, no, I cannot rest!" cried Martina, suddenly, after having leant on Adam for a few minutes--"I cannot--Oh, gracious Father! do with me what thou wilt, only do not deprive me of my child, my Joseph; he is innocent; I alone am guilty--this man and I."

She went some steps from Adam, as if she could not bear his vicinity; she no longer shed tears, but she sobbed convulsively with dry eyes, as if her heart would break.

The scene in the wood was like the procession of the "Wild Huntsman;"

the men with torches and lanterns, and their eager shouts and cries, and cracking of whips, and ringing of bells; and the dogs, too, carrying lanterns round their necks, and rushing along the ravines barking, and then galloping up the hills, still barking and pressing forwards, till recalled by the voice of their masters. It was fortunate that such good order was maintained. No one could recognise his neighbour, for each man was a moving ma.s.s of snow, and the hills and rocks looked down by the torchlight in amazement, at the men who had come there to shout out, and seek a young child.

"See, how all the village loved him!" said Martina to Adam, relating to him how the boy had wakened her on the previous night, three times, to ask which way his father would come; and she reproached herself severely for having listened to Leegart, and sent him out of the house alone; she might have known that something dreadful was sure to occur on this day.

Adam was sadly perplexed, and did not know what to say; and he was more sad than ever when he thought of the Forest Mill, where they were all sitting waiting for him, and remembered the treachery towards Martina he had been persuaded to commit this very day.

Suddenly a cry of joy was heard--"What is it? what is it?" "G.o.d be praised, they have found him!" "Where? where?" The smith came up, out of breath, to Adam and Martina. "Here is his cap; we shall find him now, sure enough."

Martina seized the dripping cap, and shed scalding tears over it.