Fairy dreams or, Wanderings in Elf-land
Brigitta to buy her candles, and had taken the money which she had
given him for doing so. He remembered, too, the words which his father
had often repeated to him,--
“God and duty first--self last.”
So, keeping his eyes upon the ground, he rapidly approached the castle,
and went round the chapel-end (though the path lay the other side) to
the kitchen door, gave his parcel to one of the maids without speaking,
and then, never looking behind, ran toward home as fast as his legs
would carry him.
Old Hans was ready with the supper, and so merry and full of jokes and
laughter, that Fritzchen would not tell him what he had seen, lest it
should sadden him, and spoil his little holiday.
So, while Hans, proud of his cookery dished the smoking fish and placed
them on the table, Fritzchen lighted his candles, and placed one before
the picture of the Holy Virgin, and the other in the one window of the
hut, that its light might ascend gratefully toward heaven.
At the castle, meantime, all was noisy mirth and rude merriment. The
baron, sitting at the head of his long table, with his retainers and
their wives, with a few guests of their own stamp ranged down either
side, ate and drank, laughed, sung, and swore by turns; and each man
present, thinking to flatter his humor, ate, drank, laughed, sung, and
swore likewise, till the sound of their rioting and their blasphemies
shook the very roof above them, close to which now clung the lurid
cloud, hiding the bat-like demon, who, brooding closer and closer to
the roof-tree, leaned over now and again to glare with great red eyes
through the unshuttered windows at the mad revellers within.
“More wine--more!” shouted the baron every moment; and the old butler
was forced to make so many journeys from the hall to the cellar and the
cellar to the hall, that he had not time to drink more than six bottles
to his own share, and grumbled loudly at the hardships of such a life.
But at last the baron, in the very midst of a horrible oath, dropped
his head upon the table, and sunk into a heavy, drunken sleep. Many of
the others followed his example, and for the rest old Peter did not
care; so, muttering to himself “‘Every dog shall have his day,’ and mine
comes now,” he took a candle from the table and descended once more to
the cellar, locking the door behind him, lest he should be interrupted.
“The best, the oldest and the best,” muttered he, staggering around
among the casks and bottles. “I won’t live such a dog’s life for
nought,--I will have my pleasure too, when I get a chance.” Talking
in this way to himself, the butler suddenly came upon a dim old cask
standing under an arch in the western wing of the castle, and so
concealed that he had not noticed it before.
“Aha! what have we here?” muttered he, stooping, and putting his auger
into the wood near the bottom of the cask. “Some rare old vintage,
I’ll be bound, that’s been hid away here ever since the castle was
a convent,--we’re not much like a convent now, I think. Saint Jude!
what stuff have we here?--droll wine this,” added he, as a stream of
something black and shining followed the auger when he drew it out.
Full of curiosity, he stooped to examine it. Just then a terrific peal
of thunder rocked the cliff to its foundation; at the same instant a
blinding bolt shot from roof-tree to cellar,--and, in another moment,
butler, castle, and revellers were blown altogether hundreds of feet
into the air.
The terrible noise of the explosion wakened both Hans and Fritzchen;
but, too much terrified to rise or look out, they only clung the closer
to each other, and said over and over all the prayers that they knew.
At last, an hour after every thing was still, they timidly rose,
and, holding fast by each other’s hand, crept to the door and looked
out. All about the little hut lay great stones, beams, and fragments;
but not the smallest pebble had touched the humble roof, on which now
perched, surrounded by its pure, soft light, the silver-white dove.
“The castle, father! the dove has left the castle!” cried Fritzchen.
“Come and see what has befallen it.”
Still hand in hand they hastened up the cliff. On its summit stood
nothing but cold, gray walls, roofless and desolate, through whose
empty window places the setting moon cast long, mournful beams, while
overhead the gloomy thunderclouds were breaking and rolling away in
great masses.
Hans and Fritzchen stood long looking at the ruin, but neither spoke;
and presently they silently turned, and, reëntering the little
hut, over which still clung the bright cloud--although the dove had
flown--they trimmed the little candles which yet burned with a clear,
steady light, and, having once more murmured a prayer, lay down and
again slept sweetly and calmly.
Transcriber’s Notes
New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the
public domain.
Perceived typographical errors have been silently corrected.
Chapter headings as listed in the Table of Contents have been added to
the text.