Wagner, the Wehr-Wolf Part 57

Entering the saloon, she opened the windows to admit the gentle breeze of morning; and ere she commenced her toilet, she lingered to gaze upon the stately ships that were plowing the blue sea in the wake of the admiral's vessel wherein she was. Suddenly her eyes fell upon what appeared to be a small speck at a little distance; but as this object was moving rapidly along on the surface of the Mediterranean, it soon approached sufficiently near to enable her to discern that it was a boat impelled by a single sail. Urged by an undefinable and yet a strong sentiment of curiosity, Nisida remained at the saloon window, watching the progress of the little bark, which bounded over the waves with extraordinary speed, bending gracefully to the breeze that thus wafted it onward. Nearer and nearer toward the vessel it came, though not pursuing the same direction; and in five minutes it pa.s.sed within a few yards of the stern of the kapitan-pasha's ship.

But, oh! wondrous and unaccountable fact. There, stretched upon his back in that bounding boat, and evidently buried in deep slumber, with the rays of the rising sun gleaming upon his fine and now slightly flushed countenance, lay he whose image was so indelibly impressed upon the heart of Nisida--her handsome and strangely-fated Fernand Wagner! The moment the conviction that the sleeper was indeed he struck to the mind of Nisida, she would have called him by name--she would have endeavored to awake him, if only to exchange a single word of fondness, for her a.s.sumed dumbness was for the moment forgotten; but she was rendered motionless and remained speechless--stupefied, paralyzed, as it were, with mingled wonder and joy; wonder that he should have found the means of escape from the island, and joy that she was thus permitted to behold him at least once again. But the pleasure which this incident excited in her mind was transitory indeed; for the boat swept by, as if urged on by a stronger impulse than that of the gentle breeze of morning--and in another minute Nisida beheld it no more.

The sun was setting behind the western hills of Sicily as Fernand Wagner entered the squalid suburb which at that period stretched from the town of Syracuse to the sea. His step was elastic, and he held his head high--for his heart was full of joyous and burning hope. Hitherto the promises of the angel who had last appeared to him were completely fulfilled. The boat was wafted by a favorable breeze direct from the Island of Snakes to the sh.o.r.es of Sicily; and he had landed in the immediate vicinity of Syracuse--the town in which a further revelation was to be made in respect to the breaking of the spell which had fixed upon him the frightful doom of the Wehr-Wolf! But little suspected Fernand Wagner that one morning, while he slept, his boat had borne him through the proud fleet of the Ottomans--little wist he that his beloved Nisida had caught sight of him as he was wafted rapidly past the stern of the kapitan-pasha's ship! For on that occasion he had slept during hours; and when he had awakened, not a bark nor sail save his own was visible on the mighty expanse of water.

And now it was with elastic step and joyous heart that the hero of our tale entered the town of Syracuse. But suddenly he remembered the singular nature of the inquiry that he was there to make--an inquiry concerning a man whose years had numbered one hundred and sixty-two!

"Nevertheless," thought Wagner, "that good angel who gave me a sign whereby I should become convinced of the reality of her appearance, and whose promises have all been fulfilled up to this point, could not possibly mislead me. No; I will obey the command which I received, even though I should visit every human dwelling in the town of Syracuse! For Heaven works out its wise purposes in wondrous manners; and it is not for me to shrink from yielding obedience to its orders, nor to pause to question their propriety. And oh! if I can but shake off that demon influence which weighs upon my soul--if I can but escape from the shackles which still enchain me to a horrible doom, how sincere will be my thanks to Heaven, how unbounded my rejoicings!"

As Wagner had reached this point in his meditations, he stopped at the door of a barber shop of mean appearance--the pole, with the basin hanging to it, denoting that the occupant of the place combined, as was usual in those times, the functions of shaver and blood-letter or surgeon. Hastily surveying the exterior of the shop, and fancying that it was precisely the one at which his inquiries should commence--barbers in that age being as famous for their gossiping propensities as in this--Fernand entered, and was immediately accosted by a short, sharp-visaged, dark-complexioned old man, who pointed to a seat, saying in a courteous, or rather obsequious tone, "What is your will, signor?"

Fernand desired the barber-surgeon to shave his superfluous beard and trim his hair; and while that individual was preparing his lather and sharpening his razor in the most approved style of the craft, Wagner asked in a seemingly careless tone, "What news have you, good master, in Syracuse?"

"Naught of importance, signor," was the reply; "mere everyday matters.

Syracuse is indeed wretchedly dull. There were only two murders and three attempts at a.s.sa.s.sination reported to the lieutenant of police this morning, and that is nothing for a town usually so active and bustling as ours. For my part, I don't know what has come over the people? I stepped as far as the dead-house just now to view the body of a young lady, unclaimed as yet, who had her head nearly severed from her trunk last night; and then I proceeded to the great square to see whether any executions are to take place to-morrow; but really there is nothing of any consequence to induce one to stir abroad in Syracuse just at this moment."

"Murders and attempts at a.s.sa.s.sination are matters of very common occurrence amongst you, then?" said Wagner, inquiringly.

"We get a perfect surfeit of them, signor," returned the barber, now applying the soap to his customer's face. "They fail to create any sensation now, I can a.s.sure you. Beside, one gets tired of executions."

"Naturally enough," said Fernand. "But I have heard that there are some very extraordinary personages in Syracuse; indeed, there is one who has lived to a remarkable age----"

"The oldest person I know of, is the Abbot of St. Mary's," interrupted the barber, "and he----"

"And he----" repeated Wagner, with feverish impatience.

"Is ninety-seven and three months, signor; a great age, truly,"

responded the barber-surgeon.

Fernand's hopes were immediately cooled down; but thinking that he ought to put his inquiry in a direct manner, he said: "Then it is not true that you have in Syracuse an individual who has reached the wondrous age of a century three-score and two?"

"Holy Virgin have mercy upon you, signor!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the barber, "if you really put faith in the absurd stories that people tell about the Rosicrucians!"

"Ah! then the people of Syracuse do talk on such matters?" said Wagner, conceiving that he had obtained a clew to the aim and object of his inquiry.

"Have you never heard, signor, of the Order of the Rosy Cross?" demanded the barber, who was naturally of a garrulous disposition, and who now appeared to have entered on a favorite subject.

"I have heard, in my travels, vague mention made of such an order,"

answered Fernand; "but I never experienced any curiosity to seek to learn more--and, indeed, I may say, that I know nothing of the Rosicrucians save their mere name."

"Well, signor," continued the barber, "for common pa.s.s-talk, it is as good a subject as any other; but no one shall ever persuade me either that there is really such an order as the Brothers of the Rosy Cross, or that it is possible for human beings to attain the powers attributed to that fraternity."

"You interest me much by your remarks, good leech," exclaimed Fernand; "I pray you to give me further explanation."

"With infinite pleasure, signor, since you appear to desire it,"

returned the barber, still pursuing his tonsorial duties. "You must know that there are many wild legends and stories abroad concerning these invisible beings denominated Rosicrucians. But the one which gains most general credence is that the brotherhood was founded by a certain Christia.n.u.s Rosencrux, a German philosopher, who fancied that the arts and sciences might be developed in such a manner as to confer the greatest possible blessings on the human race."

"Then the aims of Rosencrux are entirely good and philanthropic?" said Wagner, interrogatively.

"As a matter of course, signor," said the barber; "and therefore, if such a man ever did live, he must have been an insane visionary--for who would believe that knowledge could possibly make us richer, happier, or better? All the philosophy in the universe could never convert this shop into a palace."

"But you are wandering from your subject, my good friend," gently remonstrated Fernand.

"I crave your pardon, signor. Let me see. Oh, I recollect; we were talking of Christia.n.u.s Rosencrux. Well, signor, the fabled philosopher was a monk, and a very wise as well as a very good man. I am only telling you the most generally received legend, mind, and would not have you think that I believe it myself. So this Rosencrux, finding that his cloistral existence was inconvenient for the prosecution of his studies, traveled into the East, and spent many years in acquiring the knowledge handed down to the wise men of those climes by the ancient Magi and Chaldeans. He visited Egypt, and learnt many wonderful secrets by studying the hieroglyphics on the Egyptian pyramids. I forget how long he remained in the East; but it is said that he visited every place of interest in the Holy Land, and received heavenly inspirations on the spot where our Saviour was crucified. On his return to Europe, he saw full well that if he revealed all his knowledge at once, he would be put to death by the inquisition as a wizard, and the world would lose the benefit of all the learning he had acquired. So says the legend; and it goes on to recite that Christia.n.u.s Rosencrux then founded the order of the Rosy Cross, which was nothing more or less than a brotherhood of wise men whom he initiated in all his secrets, with the intention that they should reveal from time to time small portions thereof, and thus give to the world by very slow degrees that immense amount of knowledge which he supposed would have stupefied and astounded everybody if made public all at once."

"Strange--most strange," thought Wagner within himself, "that I should never have gleaned all these details before, eager as my inquiries and researches in the pursuit of knowledge have been. But Heaven has willed everything for the best; and it is doubtless intended that my salvation shall proceed from the very quarter which was least known to me, and concerning which I have manifested the most contemptuous indifference, in the sphere of knowledge!"

"You appear to be much interested, signor," said the barber, "in this same tale of Christia.n.u.s Rosencrux. But there is too much intelligence depicted on your countenance to allow me to suppose that you will place any reliance on the absurd story. How is it possible, signor, that an order could have existed for so many years without any one member ever having betrayed the secrets which bind them all together? Moreover, their place of abode and study is totally unknown to the world; and if they inhabited the deepest caverns under the earth accident must, sooner or later, have led to its discovery. Believe me, signor, 'tis naught save a ridiculous legend; though a poor, ignorant man myself, I hope I have too much good sense and too much respect for my father-confessor, to suppose for a minute that there is on earth any set of men more learned than the holy ministers of the church."

"How long ago is Christia.n.u.s Rosencrux reported to have lived?" demanded Wagner, suddenly interrupting the garrulous and narrow-minded Sicilian.

"There we are again!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "The credulous declare that Rosencrux discovered in the East the means of prolonging existence, and though he was born as far back as the year 1359, he is still alive."

Had not the barber turned aside at that precise instant to fill an ewer and place a towel for his customer's use, he would have been surprised by the sudden start and the expression of ineffable joy which denoted Fernand's emotions, as by a rapid calculation mentally made, our hero perceived that if Rosencrux were born in 1359, and alive at that moment--namely, in 1521--his age would be exactly one hundred and sixty-two!

"It is Christia.n.u.s Rosencrux, then," he said to himself, "whom I have inquired for--whom I am to see--and who will dissolve the spell that has been placed upon me. But where shall I seek him? whither shall I go to find his secret abode?"

The duties of the barber were completed; and Wagner threw down a piece of gold, saying, "Keep that coin, friend, for your discourse has greatly interested me, and has indeed well deserved it."

The poor old man had never possessed in all his life so much money at one time; and so vast was his joy that he could only mutter a few broken sentences to express his grat.i.tude.

"I require not thanks, my good friend," said Wagner. "But one word ere I depart. Knowest thou the spot which rumor indicates as the abode of that sect of whom we have been speaking?"

"Nay, excellent signor," replied the barber; "there your question masters me; for in this case rumor goes not to such a length as to afford hints for an investigation which would prove its utter fallacy.

All that I have heard, signor, concerning the Rosicrucians, you have learnt from my lips; and I know no more."

Wagner, finding that further inquiry in that quarter was useless, took leave of the old man, and traversing the suburb, entered the town of Syracuse.

CHAPTER LIX.

Fernand was now at a loss how to act. He felt convinced that it was useless to inst.i.tute any further inquiries relative to the whereabouts of the secret Order of the Rosy Cross; because, had popular rumor ever hinted at any clew in that respect, the garrulous and inquisitive barber would have been sure to hear of it. He was not, however, disheartened.

No--very far from that; for he was confident that the same supernal power that had hitherto directed him, and which was rapidly clearing away all obstacles in his path toward perfect emanc.i.p.ation from the influence of the evil one, would carry him to a successful and triumphant issue. Throwing himself, therefore, entirely on the wisdom and mercy of Heaven, he roamed about the town of Syracuse, without any settled object in view, until he was much wearied and it was very late.

He then entered a miserable hostel, or inn--the best, however, that he could discover; and there, having partaken of some refreshment, he retired to the chamber allotted to him. Sleep soon visited his eyes; but he had not long enjoyed the sweets of slumber, when that balmy repose was interrupted either by a touch or sound, he knew not which. Starting up in his couch, he perceived a tall figure, m.u.f.fled in a huge dark mantle, and wearing a slouched broad-brimmed hat, standing by the side of the bed.

"Rise, Fernand Wagner," said a mild but masculine voice, "and follow me.

He whom thou seekest has sent me to lead thee to him."

Wagner did not hesitate to obey this mandate, which he felt certain was connected with the important business that had borne him to Syracuse.

His apparel was speedily a.s.sumed; and he said, "I am ready to follow thee, stranger, whoever thou art, and whithersoever thou mayst lead; for my faith is in Heaven."

"Those who have faith shall prosper," observed the stranger, in a solemn tone.

He then led the way noiselessly down the steep staircase of the inn, and issued forth by the front gate, closely followed by Wagner. In deep silence did they proceed through the dark, narrow, and tortuous streets, leaving at length the town behind them, and then entering upon a barren and uneven waste. By degrees an object, at first dimly seen in the distance, and by the uncertain moonlight, which was constantly struggling with the dark clouds of a somewhat tempestuous night, a.s.sumed a more defined appearance, until a ma.s.s of gigantic ruins at length stood out from the somber obscurity. In a few moments the moon shone forth purely and brightly; and its beams, falling on decayed b.u.t.tresses, broken Gothic arches, deep entrance-ways, remnants of pinnacles and spires, ma.s.sive walls of ruined towers, gave a wildly romantic and yet not unpicturesque aspect to the remains of what was evidently once a vast monastic inst.i.tution. The m.u.f.fled stranger led the way amongst the ruins, and at last stopped at a gate opening into a small square inclosure formed by strong iron railings, seven feet high and shaped at the points like javelins. Pa.s.sing through the gateway, the guide conducted Wagner into a cemetery, which was filled with the marble tombs of the mitered abbots who had once held sway over the monastery and the broad lands attached to it.

"You behold around you," said the m.u.f.fled stranger, waving his arm toward the ruins, "all that remains of a sanctuary once the most celebrated in Sicily for the piety and wisdom of its inmates. But a horrible crime, a murder perpetrated under circ.u.mstances unusually diabolical, the criminal being no less a person than the last lord abbot himself, and the victim a beauteous girl whom he had seduced, rendered this inst.i.tution accursed in the eyes of G.o.d and man. The monks abandoned it: and the waste over which you have pa.s.sed is now the unclaimed but once fertile estate belonging to the abbey. The superst.i.tion of the Sicilians has not failed to invent terrific tales in connection with these ruins: and the belief that each night at twelve o'clock the soul of the guilty abbot is driven by the scourge of the demon through the scene alike of his episcopal power and his black turpitude, effectually prevents impertinent or inconvenient intrusion."