The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom — Complete
from such affluence to the necessity of depending upon about twenty
ducats, and some loose silver, which he carried in his pocket, for his
expense upon the road. However bitter this pill might be in swallowing,
he so far mastered his mortification, as to digest it with a good
grace. His own penetration at once pointed out the canal through which
this misfortune had flowed upon him; he forthwith placed the calamity
to the account of the Tyrolese, and never doubting that he had retired
with the booty across the Rhine, into some place to which he knew
Fathom would not follow his footsteps, he formed the melancholy
resolution of pursuing with all despatch his journey to Paris, that he
might, with all convenient expedition, indemnify himself for the
discomfiture he had sustained.
With regard to his confederate, his conjecture was perfectly right;
that adventurer, though infinitely inferior to our hero in point of
genius and invention, had manifestly the advantage of him in the
articles of age and experience; he was no stranger to Fathom’s
qualifications, the happy exertion of which he had often seen. He knew
him to be an economist of the most frugal order, consequently concluded
his finances were worthy of examination; and, upon the true principles
of a sharper, eased him of the encumbrance, taking it for granted,
that, in so doing, he only precluded Ferdinand from the power of acting
the same tragedy upon him, should ever opportunity concur with his
inclination. He had therefore concerted his measures with the dexterity
of an experienced conveyancer, and, snatching the occasion, while our
hero, travel-tainted, lay sunk in the arms of profound repose, he
ripped up the seams of the leather depository, withdrew the contents,
introduced the parcel of nails, which he had made up for the purpose,
and then repaired the breach with great deliberation.
Had Fathom’s good genius prompted him to examine his effects next
morning, the Tyrolese, in all probability, would have maintained his
acquisition by force of arms; for his personal courage was rather more
determined than that of our adventurer, and he was conscious of his own
ascendency in this particular; but his good fortune prevented such
explanation. Immediately after dinner, he availed himself of his
knowledge, and, betaking himself to a remote part of the town, set out
in a post-chaise for Luneville, while our hero was meditating his own
escape.
Fathom’s conception was sufficient to comprehend the whole of this
adventure, as soon as his chagrin would give his sagacity fair play;
nor would he allow his resolution to sink under the trial; on the
contrary, he departed from the village that same afternoon, under the
auspices of his conductor, and found himself benighted in the midst of
a forest, far from the habitations of men. The darkness of the night,
the silence and solitude of the place, the indistinct images of the
trees that appeared on every side, “stretching their extravagant arms
athwart the gloom,” conspired, with the dejection of spirits occasioned
by his loss, to disturb his fancy, and raise strange phantoms in his
imagination. Although he was not naturally superstitious, his mind
began to be invaded with an awful horror, that gradually prevailed over
all the consolations of reason and philosophy; nor was his heart free
from the terrors of assassination. In order to dissipate these
disagreeable reveries, he had recourse to the conversation of his
guide, by whom he was entertained with the history of divers travellers
who had been robbed and murdered by ruffians, whose retreat was in the
recesses of that very wood.
In the midst of this communication, which did not at all tend to the
elevation of our hero’s spirits, the conductor made an excuse for
dropping behind, while our traveller jogged on in expectation of being
joined again by him in a few minutes. He was, however, disappointed in
that hope; the sound of the other horse’s feet by degrees grew more and
more faint, and at last altogether died away. Alarmed at this
circumstance, Fathom halted in the middle of the road, and listened
with the most fearful attention; but his sense of hearing was saluted
with nought but the dismal sighings of the trees, that seemed to
foretell an approaching storm. Accordingly, the heavens contracted a
more dreary aspect, the lightning began to gleam, and the thunder to
roll, and the tempest, raising its voice to a tremendous roar,
descended in a torrent of rain.
In this emergency, the fortitude of our hero was almost quite overcome.
So many concurring circumstances of danger and distress might have
appalled the most undaunted breast; what impression then must they have
made upon the mind of Ferdinand, who was by no means a man to set fear
at defiance! Indeed, he had well-nigh lost the use of his reflection,
and was actually invaded to the skin, before he could recollect himself
so far as to quit the road, and seek for shelter among the thickets
that surrounded him. Having rode some furlongs into the forest, he took
his station under a tuft of tall trees, that screened him from the
storm, and in that situation called a council within himself, to
deliberate upon his next excursion. He persuaded himself that his guide
had deserted him for the present, in order to give intelligence of a
traveller to some gang of robbers with whom he was connected; and that
he must of necessity fall a prey to those banditti, unless he should
have the good fortune to elude their search, and disentangle himself
from the mazes of the wood.
Harrowed with these apprehensions, he resolved to commit himself to the
mercy of the hurricane, as of two evils the least, and penetrate
straightforwards through some devious opening, until he should be
delivered from the forest. For this purpose he turned his horse’s head
in a line quite contrary to the direction of the high road which he had
left, on the supposition that the robbers would pursue that track in
quest of him, and that they would never dream of his deserting the
highway, to traverse an unknown forest, amidst the darkness of such a
boisterous night. After he had continued in this progress through a
succession of groves, and bogs, and thorns, and brakes, by which not
only his clothes, but also his skin suffered in a grievous manner,
while every nerve quivered with eagerness and dismay, he at length
reached an open plain, and pursuing his course, in full hope of
arriving at some village, where his life would be safe, he descried a
rush-light at a distance, which he looked upon as the star of his good
fortune, and riding towards it at full speed, arrived at the door of a
lone cottage, into which he was admitted by an old woman, who,
understanding he was a bewildered traveller, received him with great
hospitality.
When he learned from his hostess, that there was not another house
within three leagues; that she could accommodate him with a tolerable
bed, and his horse with lodging and oats, he thanked Heaven for his
good fortune, in stumbling upon this homely habitation, and determined
to pass the night under the protection of the old cottager, who gave
him to understand, that her husband, who was a faggot-maker, had gone
to the next town to dispose of his merchandise; and that, in all
probability, he would not return till next morning, on account of the
tempestuous night. Ferdinand sounded the beldame with a thousand artful
interrogations, and she answered with such appearance of truth and
simplicity, that he concluded his person was quite secure; and, after
having been regaled with a dish of eggs and bacon, desired she would
conduct him into the chamber where she proposed he should take his
repose. He was accordingly ushered up by a sort of ladder into an
apartment furnished with a standing-bed, and almost half filled with
trusses of straw. He seemed extremely well pleased with his lodging,
which in reality exceeded his expectation; and his kind landlady,
cautioning him against letting the candle approach the combustibles,
took her leave, and locked the door on the outside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
HE FALLS UPON SCYLLA, SEEKING TO AVOID CHARYBDIS.
Fathom, whose own principles taught him to be suspicious, and ever upon
his guard against the treachery of his fellow-creatures, could have
dispensed with this instance of her care, in confining her guest to her
chamber, and began to be seized with strange fancies, when he observed
that there was no bolt on the inside of the door, by which he might
secure himself from intrusion. In consequence of these suggestions, he
proposed to take an accurate survey of every object in the apartment,
and, in the course of his inquiry, had the mortification to find the
dead body of a man, still warm, who had been lately stabbed, and
concealed beneath several bundles of straw.
Such a discovery could not fail to fill the breast of our hero with
unspeakable horror; for he concluded that he himself would undergo the
same fate before morning, without the interposition of a miracle in his
favour. In the first transports of his dread, he ran to the window,
with a view to escape by that outlet, and found his flight effectually
obstructed by divers strong bars of iron. Then his heart began to
palpitate, his hair to bristle up, and his knees to totter; his
thoughts teemed with presages of death and destruction; his conscience
rose up in judgment against him, and he underwent a severe paroxysm of
dismay and distraction. His spirits were agitated into a state of
fermentation that produced a species of resolution akin to that which
is inspired by brandy or other strong liquors, and, by an impulse that
seemed supernatural, he was immediately hurried into measures for his
own preservation.
What upon a less interesting occasion his imagination durst not
propose, he now executed without scruple or remorse. He undressed the
corpse that lay bleeding among the straw, and, conveying it to the bed
in his arms, deposited it in the attitude of a person who sleeps at his
ease; then he extinguished the light, took possession of the place from
whence the body had been removed, and, holding a pistol ready cocked in
each hand, waited for the sequel with that determined purpose which is
often the immediate production of despair. About midnight he heard the
sound of feet ascending the ladder; the door was softly opened; he saw
the shadow of two men stalking towards the bed, a dark lanthorn being
unshrouded, directed their aim to the supposed sleeper, and he that
held it thrust a poniard to his heart; the force of the blow made a
compression on the chest, and a sort of groan issued from the windpipe
of the defunct; the stroke was repeated, without producing a repetition
of the note, so that the assassins concluded the work was effectually
done, and retired for the present with a design to return and rifle the
deceased at their leisure.
Never had our hero spent a moment in such agony as he felt during this
operation; the whole surface of his body was covered with a cold sweat,
and his nerves were relaxed with an universal palsy. In short, he
remained in a trance that, in all probability, contributed to his
safety; for, had he retained the use of his senses, he might have been
discovered by the transports of his fear. The first use he made of his
retrieved recollection, was to perceive that the assassins had left the
door open in their retreat; and he would have instantly availed himself
of this their neglect, by sallying out upon them, at the hazard of his
life, had he not been restrained by a conversation he overheard in the
room below, importing, that the ruffians were going to set out upon
another expedition, in hopes of finding more prey. They accordingly