The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 22 December 1910, Page 2087

The Storyteller

HIS NEIGHBOR The Inn of the Silver Star in Leuterdorf has no parlor. 'Why should it have asked Herr Cornelius, the landlord. ' People who are too fine to talk to their kind in din-ing-room or kitchen may trudge along to the next village.' He sat in the latter room by preference, now that the winter had closed in and the summer birds of passage had flown away. He had a taste for comfort, Herr Cornelius, which being gratified in essentials by an excellent supper, now found further satisfaction in the soothing heat of the great, glowing stove, in the strings of ruddy sausages and peppers depending from the rafters, in the glimpse of a haunch of venison and some feathered game which the wire doors of the safe permitted. There was unconscious content, also, in the brisk ministrations of the sturdy Hedwig, his elder daughter, who filled their mugs of beer and moved the big screen to keep out the draught; and in the quieter movements of his slender Gertrude, whose long, fair braids hung blow her waist, and whose thoughts, like her blue eyes, may have been far from the knitting-needles which seemed _of themselves swiftly to transform coarse woollen yarn into stocking shape. ' In any case,' pursued Herr Cornelius, between meditative puffs of his pipe, my summer people like to eat outdoors, and live there, too. Tables and benches, the roadside, and the sky for ceiling, that is parlor enough for them. They come only for the climate, and scenery—always scenery. Of these, thank God, we have sufficient for them, and still some left for another season, and yet another.' 'One must be thankful,' said the blacksmith, sipping his beer, ' that their good money remains to help us. But,. Eimmell how foolish some of them are! Will you forget the young Italian advocate who was afraid of guns, yet shouted and swore and always wore the black cock feather in his hat. " Ah, my child," he said to Louisa, our goose-" girl, "do not fear for your geese. My gun does not go off of itself." And Louisa, who shoots pretty well, found out afterwards that his gun was not loaded.' Neither Hedwig nor Gertrude seemed to pay much attention to their elders' talk. The former, after clearing away the supper dishes, was busy supplying the wants of a couple of stray peddlers whom snow and ice had not deterred from braving the terrors of the Hinter Pass. They were giving her a description of the hardships encountered and incidentally paying her those compliments they considered a Kcllncrm's due. Hedwig, plain of feature and clumsy of figure, received these with smiling literalness, as perhaps they were meant; for a German's taste in womanly beauty is most frequently unconventional. Gertrude had withdrawn into a recess behind the stove, where her knitting needles still flew, under the supervision of a well-set-up good-looking young man in a semi-soldierly uniform. ' ' Is that for a Christmas gift?' he asked her, 'that you cannot take time from it to look at a fellow when he tells you of his travels?' ' I am behindhand with my winter work,' she told him demurely; yet with the hint of a smile, which clearly elated him. 'The freeholder's Sylvester is making good play,' whispered the blacksmith. ' Nothing like a soldier among the girls. You may have a wedding, Cornelius, by next Easter. J 'As time and fortune will,' said the inn-keeper imperturbab y. The boy is well enough; has a good record from the Transvaal; an only son, and the freehold farmer is well-to-do But her sister's wedding should come beforehand. Lacking their mother—rest her soul!— is my duty to see to that. Laban showed his. wisdom in caring for his Leah's interests first of all.' ,m, ' Nonsense > man,' said the schoolmaster disrespectfully They must have had much useless time to waste in those days. Try putting your daughters' suitors on a fourteen or even seven-year probation now, and you will find them both old maids on your hands.' 'Heaven forbid!' said the host solemnly, that would be awful— awful; and their chests of linen all made and ready! And if they should get to look like those big bony Englishwomen who come and bring their dogs!' He took a long draught to drown the very thought. m 'By the way,' said the blacksmith, again lowering his voice 'what has become of Andreas? I surely thought that he— The speaker looked at the wood-carver's Fabian and the flaxen-haired youth, who had smoked and dreamed and said nothing all evening, answered for his friend something in which: ' The Head Forester's orders—Balse— HonenwegSchwarzwald" were audible. By a strange coincidence the subject of these last remarks was at that very moment tramping up the village street on his way towards 'them. The last time he had approached the Inn of the Silver Star— different had been the scene! Then the little Tyrolese village was basking in the rays of the summer sun. On the wooden benches tourists and villagers sat and chatted together: the children played sedate y under the trees; grazing cattle dotted the green hills; yellowed corn glittered in the fields below-

and the sound of distant streams tumbling over the rocks had sung in his ears. How well he remembered it! How he recalled stopping at the fountain where stood an image of St. Florian, the village patron and how, carefully skirting the inn, he had hurried around to the kitchen, only to find his Gertrude too busy, much too busy, to give him a word. Yet there was that trifling, flirting Sylvester helping her to ladle out the soup —almost as if he were a son of the house. And as recently as the spring just past, blue-eyed Gertrude had encouraged him, Andreas, plain of speech, used to work but unused to womenhad encouraged hi in to hope. Then the Schiitzenfest had come, and Sylvester had returned from the Transvaal. Travelled and self-confi-dent, this same Sylvester had caused a fluttering in the Leuterdorf dovecotes. For, in shooting at the Eagle, Andreas, the Forester's assistant, being troubled, failed of his best, and Sylvester, the soldier, triumphant as King, had, with easy assurance, chosen Gertrude as his Queen, and availed himself in every way of his claims and privileges. Andreas, too proud to complain, had, with slightest farewell, gone willingly on the mission given him by the Forester, to Switzerland, and later to the Schwartzwald, and there had prolonged his stay, in study and experiment. But here again, in Christmas week, once more he walked Leuterdorf street, whence the tourists had long gone and only the sombre firs persisted among the overwhelming snows. The animals were under shelter, the . little, playing babies safe in bed, the pleasant sights and sounds of summer vanished. Night and darkness _ and bitter wintry blasts were about him, and the heart within him was as unquiet as. when he went away. He crossed once more the market-place, with its fountain frozen motionless now and St. Florian with a mantle of snow. The inn's fire and lamplight made bright squares on the snow outside, and through the window-panes he saw Sylvester bending over and restoring to Gertrude her worsted ball, with perceptible pressure of the knitter's fingers. His firm jaw wore a forbidding squareness on his abrupt entrance within. Notwithstanding he had a hearty reception. ' Ha, Andreas, this is a pleasant surprise,' cried the blacksmith; and the schoolmaster said : 'We were fearing the Schwartzwald fairies would hold thee over Christmas, lad.' Herr Cornelius clapped him on the shoulder, and the dreamy Fabian came from his corner to clasp his friend's hand. For had he not grown up among them, plain, honest, and true, always kindly and helpful though reticent and grave? Hedwig hastened to pour a fresh, foaming tankard, and to ask cheerily: ' Did you come back for to-morrow's dance, Andreas?' Even Sylvester, with light ignoring of the past, gave him debonnair greeting; and only she whose voice he yearned to hear had started, murmured something —nothing —and resumed her knitting. 'Did he come for to-morrow's dance, Hedwig?' said Fabian, laughing. ' Surely you know him better. Nothing could have brought him back but that the work is finished that he went to do.' Gertrude's head bent a little lower. The question is not why— how he came,' said one of the peddlers. ' The storm was thick three hours ago when we arrived, and the Hinter Pass almost impossible.' ' I came by the Alter Pass,' said Andreas quietly. ' Himmel !' said the other peddler. - 'Why, it was madness 1 On skis ! That side of the way was worse and there the avalanche fell. Give Christmas thanks, man, for your life.' The knitter's fingers were still for a moment and her lips pale; and Andreas' eyes met hers suddenly with a most unexpected intensity, while his heart gave a great throb. The next instant she jested with Sylvester, and Andreas answered calmly : 'We never know just how much we may have to thank God for.' ' For all things,' said Herr Cornelius ponderously, ' ' especially sleep, for which it is now the hour. You will remain the night, Andreas; you must, after so long a ski journey, be tired out.' ' No, I thank you, Herr. My report is yet to be made to the Forester. Come, Fabian, your way goes with mine. Good-night, Hedwig.' Andreas might have had even a friendlier word for the slim, silent maiden who stood beside her sister, had not Sylvester gaily interrupted: ' I hurry no one; but I am waiting to help shut up the inn, and Hedwig is very sleepy.' How could Andreas know that, as he went his resentful way, pretending to listen to Fabian, up in her little pigeonhole of a room, a girl, with tremulous lips, said to herself: ' He is too cold to care for anything but his work.' Andreas' affairs with the Head Forester kept him busy the next day, or he might again have been angered to see Sylvester at the Inn, supervising, suggesting, and working at the decorations for the evening dance. He found but a moment to send down some birds to Herr Cornelius with his compliments. ' These foresters and game-keepers,' scoffed Sylvester, when he saw the gift, 'they think they own the earth—the Lord's forests and all His creatures therein. I have been in lands where there are no tyrannical restrictions and no aristocratic privileges. Why should the Herr Count or his officers have the right to shoot a deer or hare and not you or I?'

'I don't want to shoot a hare,' said Hedwig simply. ' Sylvester, you talk nonsense,' said Gertrude. ' The lands and forest are the Herr Count's, not yours or mine.' ' I liko game,' said he, nodding down at her from his ladder, while she held up for him the Christmas wreaths, ' and mark my words, Gertrude, since my gruff and grim neighbor, the Forester's assistant, has not the decency to offer me some shooting, I will take it when I can.' ' The freeholder's land adjoins the Count's. Why not ask your father to get you permission?' To be refused by His Mightiness, Andreas How charming you look in that position, Gertrude, and with your cheeks so red.' ' Don't be silly; and don't, I beg you, spend Christmas day in gaol for poaching.' Have no fear; and be sure you save me the first and ■ third and half-a-dozen other dances.' r ' You are really too modest.' ' Above all, remember your promise to wear your Queen's crown.' She had not forgotten, but she did regret that promise, for it had been made in last night's pique' over Andreas' demeanor. Yet when the lamps were all lit in the long dining-room, and the green and crimson and floating ribbons of the decorations glistened, no one could have denied that its chief ornament was the young maiden, in scarlet petticoat and velvet bodice, with snowy sleeves, and the golden crown which so becomingly adorned her head. Then the great doors flew open and, preceded by two fiddlers playing mightily, there came in a rush of icy air, and with it a procession of young men and girls, alert, expectant, chatting, laughing, and rosy from winter's touch. There were the Sennerins, Rosalia and Hilda; Matias, the goatherd; Fabian and his sister, Elise; the dairy farmer, Anselm, and his cousins; the black-eyed Sophie, who helped the freeholder's wife and was a wonderful spinner; these and many more. Their elders preferred the warmer kitchen, where small and mild Father Friedel, their pastor, was already installed with pipe beside the stove. But who minded the cool air of the dining-room when the .fiddlers' march changed into a dance tune and young men and maids swung into such rhythmic, lively measure as made the floor shake and the rafters ring with wholesome merriment; such measure as would amaze the sophisticated who knew no dancing but the languid waltz. The King and Queen of the Schiitzenfest led this, and upon them Andreas' eyes fell when he entered, escorting the Forester and his only daughter, Fraulein Marie. Herr Cornelius hastened to receive the new arrivals, for the Head Forester was reputed rich; had already spoken of retiring; and that would mean the advancement of Andreas. The Head Forester also dined sometimes with the Herr Count himself, so he must be placed at once next to Father Friedel. ' The Christmas decorations are very pretty,' said Marie timidly. But Andreas could only see the golden crown,* which seemed to mock him from Gertrude's hair. Another dance began, and Sylvester, calling boldly: 'The Queen again honors her King,' led her forth. Andreas, in fiery anger, found himself opposite them with Fraulein Marie, gentle and sweet and wearing fashionable town attire, about which the girls whispered behind their hands, and 'supposed Andreas would inherit the Head Forester's place, if—' and so on. ' You— were long away, Andreas,' said Gertrude, when she was near him in crossing hands. ' Had I known—certain things—l would have wished my absence longer,' he answered roughly. ' Take care,' interrupted Sylvester, 'you mix the figure; that's wrong; you are forgetting how to dance, man, as well as how to shoot.' ' It is possible,' retorted Andreas, with knitted brow, ' that I shoot better at a living target—if I am not a wandering soldier.' ' You both shoot wonderfully,' said Fraulein Marie in haste. She crossed to Sylvester, and Gertrude murmured hurriedly and low: 'What "certain things"?' ' Why these ' —still frowning—' that women have no truth in them, and care for nothing but their vanity and the last feather-head that flatters them.' ' Yes, if it fits.' She said no more, holding her pretty, crowned head high, while a deep flush stained her cheeks. But as he swung her for the last time, he saw that her lips trembled and great tears stood in her soft eyes. He had no chance to speak to her again, for she was surrounded, and when the dancing was over, Fraulein Marie was his charge. The landlord beamed upon all. The occasion was a certain success— it was gratifying to see so many, including the Herr Forester himself and the freeholder's son, attentive to his pretty Gertrude. He was even satisfied that Hedwig should fill and re-fill plate and glass for the poetic Fabian, at whose carvings the summer visitors raved. He shrugged his shoulders; perhaps one could do no better for her. Under the sparkling stars in the winter night the Forester's party went homewards; but the silent Andreas paid but perfunctory attention to his companions' remarks. He thought ruefully of his late anger. ' The pretty darling child —with the tears in her blue eyes! And' Ito cause them! What a brute and a clown am I! I cannot

be what I should with that coxcomb soldier about. I will write— I will write her before I sleep.’ Yet in the morning, with the paper crackling in his breast pocket, the puzzle was how to get it to her unobserved. He passed the Silver Star on his way to a distant plantation; Sylvester was already there at the inn, playing checkers, and Gertrude, pale and reserved of manner, was too near others for him to present the note. At last he was .forced to say: * Gertrude, do you remember the old oak we used for a post office when we were little? It is covered with snow, but it is still there. I passed that way this morning.’ He had gone, but he had seen her look at him, and knew that she understood.

So, unfortunately, had Sylvester, quick of ears and of wits, who presently went away, and remembering also the post office of childhood, drew forth from a hollow, snow-sprinkled old stump a letter which he scrupled not at all to open and read. It ran: _ ' My own Gertrude, —For you were nearly mine last spring, or let me hope so. After the Schutzenfest, and since then, you have been so changed that perhaps you can ma.ke some excuse for my angry words of last night. But if not, I heartily ask pardon for them. And I have come back after these long months hoping still for your love; for my whole heart is yours and yours only. Give me some word to-night that I may know! can still call you mine now and always and so make me happy for the Holy Child's birthday. ' Your devoted Andreas.' Sylvester whistled a little, put the letter in his pocket, and went away into the woods. So, when a slim maiden came breathlessly to the old oak stump, it was with startled incredulity that she explored, only to find it empty. ' Could Andreas darewould he . venture to presume upon—upon my former feeling! To mock me as a punishment for my politeness to other old schoolmates! It must be so.' Meanwhile _ Andreas, hopeful and alert, finished his work, and taking an unfrequented cross-cut through the dark fir forest along the mountain slope, walked noiselessly, snow under foot and snowy branches overhead. Suddenly, near a dense copse, he was recalled from his thoughts of Gertrude by the report of a gun at some slight distance. He moved in that direction swiftly and cautiously, and, hearing a footstep, watched from behind a great fir. A soft rustling and crunching of snow, and Sylvester appeared, his gun on his shoulder and a brace of hares in his hand. He moved with little circumspection and even whistled softly, as this hill went usually untrod, save by an occasional faggot-gatherer. In the sheer surprise of the moment he found himself disarmed. ' I will take the hares also,' said Andreas grimly. ' Your father's land borders our, but does not include it. It is, perhaps, my duty to arrestto hand you over to the head gamekeeper; butbut—'

Sylvester, who had gathered himself together, sprang for the sequestered gun, but Andreas grappled with him, and the two men wrestled furiously in the snow. ‘ This is no Schiitzenfest,’ muttered Andreas; ‘I could crush you like an eggshell, boy.’ He was, indeed, taller, broacter, heavier, stronger in every way, than the slight Sylvester, and presently, with final effort, lifted him high and threw him from him.

Sylvester’s head striking a root under the snow, he lay a minute stunned, then slowly rose, and with a touch of his hand to his pocket—a movement not understood by Andreashe said mockingly; Keep the game, with my compliments. It is another sort of poaching I most enjoy; and in that game I expect to win.’ Then with ironic bow he went.

There was no looked-for white billet in the oak-hollow when Andreas passed that way on his road to the Silver Star. ‘ She is shy, perhaps,’ he reassured himself, 1 and I have frightened her with my rough manners. She will give me some sign to-night.’ But if she gave sign that night it was. only to fill him with bitterness. The tender, tremulous Gertrude of the dance—of last night’s dreams—had given place to a lively, sparkling, jesting maiden, playful with her father, with the guests, with Sylvester, and neither seeing, hearing, nor recognising Andreas. Sylvester took adjutage of the girl’s assumed high spirits to go far.

‘You are both crazy to-night,’ said the indulgent Hedwig.

' My* own Gertrude,' the soldier called her once or twice. 'Your beauty,' lie said again, 'makes, my words excusable; but if not, I heartily ask pardon.' And again: 'I came back from the wars hoping still from your affection, for my heart is yours and yours only.' And finally: ' Give me some word to-night that I may hope and be happy for the Christmas time.' Gertrude, with well-acted mirth, laughed with him, not dreaming whose sentences he quoted; but when Andreas recognised his own, a deep wound and hot anger divided him. ' Even if she cared nothing, that she could make a jest of my letter with him ! To read it with him and laugh over it together, and taunt me with it to my face! So he gets his revenge for this afternoon's humiliation. Truly, all is over.' He went out abruptly into -the night.

Next day was Christmas Eve, and Father Friedel would hear confession at night, before the Midnight Mass. But all holiday preparations being complete, there was a morning interval of leisure, when the younger folk decided to go skating on the Leutorbachsee, now hard frozen. So, from all sides, village and hills and scattered cottages for miles, a joyous crowd hastened along, men and girls in bright winter costumes, swinging skates. The crags of the Rotherkel overhung the wonderful ravine at the entrance of the Lastthal. Above the sombre belts of fir forests towered great walls of irregular, snow-covered peaks; and making their merry way through the opening, the procession soon came upon the See, a lovely, translucent blue in summer and now a silvered crust of thick ice. Here they went upon the lake in long, linked lines; or paired, as intimacy or skill in skating determined. Both these things probably decided Gertrude and Sylvester "who, hand-in-hand, glided and twisted, turned and re-turned, skimming the ice as swiftly and gracefully as circling swallows. The lake was long and narrow, curving quite around the mountain base. Tired of circumscribed space, and excited by enjoyment of their own skill, the pair sped on and on until out of sight of other skaters. Andreas was not among these. It was a relief to the gloom and harsh bitterness which consumed him to offer himself to procure for Fraulcin Marie such a Christmas tree as she had timidly expressed desire for. ‘ One very large, very thick, very symmetrical.’ He had tramped far and wide across the mountains without finding just what his restlessness required, and when the tree was at last cut and shouldered, his shortest way of returning was along the mountain path overlooking the Leuterbachsee. Through the crystal-clear air came now and then faint echo of the skaters’ merriment. Almost directly beneath him he saw a couple flying along towards this farther end, but saw them wholly without interest. £ What a Christmas for me,’ he thought, ‘ who will not even go to the Christ Child’s Mass. For lam a murderer —in mind, at least. I regret now that I did not shoot that fellow, the impudent poacher ! I wyis within my right, and the law would have upheld me.’ So he brooded gloomily. A sudden crackling of ice reached him, then a cry—one of the figures had disappeared, the other stood paralysed with horror at the edge of a splitting, widening aperture. ‘An air hole,’ he decided, shouting at once: ‘ Here, here is help,’ and flung the great tree from his shoulder, so that it projected across the hole. He was there almost as soon himself; and Sylvester, recognising him, bit his lip at his own unreadiness, and jumped into the water, only to catch wildly at the girl’s dress and soon become helplessly benumbed himself. Andreas, already out on the tree, reached now a careful arm, and as the gasping Gertrude would have disappeared under the ice, drew her strongly from the current and along the branches until she, was safe. Once she was on firmer ice, it was evident that Sylvester was in worse case, for his futile struggling left him half-drowned. Herr Gotti Must I go after him?’ muttered Andreas; but again he made a cautious way along the thick, green branches, and with a muscular grasp upon the collar of the drowning man, drew him too from under the treacherous ice and on to the safety of the strong tree trunk. His loud, clear yodel attracted the attention of the skaters, and speedily help came to convey the unconscious man and the dripping, shivering girl to" aid and warmth and shelter.

Up on the hillside the bell rang invitation that evening to all who would prepare for Midnight Mass. The lanterns that moved like glow worms here and there on the pathway lit up the shadows which the bright moon left .untouched. But in one of these shadows,_ unlighted, Sylvester waited until Andreas came near him. Then he spoke low; ‘ This,’ he said, ‘ is yours,’ and held out a paper. Andreas started, puzzled, at his own letter to Gertrude.

‘ I took it from the hollow,’ explained Sylvester with effort. ‘ She has never seen it. I—l1 —I owe my life to you. You may be more willing to pardon and give me your hand, for the Holy Child’s sake, if 1 tell you that she cares not at all for me, but as her former playmate.’ ( A great wave of joy surged over Andreas. He clasped Sylvester’s offered hand heartily. ‘We used to be friends,’ he cried, ‘as well as neighbors. May wo be so always!’ Both went on to their confession. When Andreas came from Father Friedel a maiden, very pale and hesitant, stood in the church porch. ‘ How can I thank you, Andreas,’ she began sweetly; but he interrupted: ‘ By reading this,’ and drawing her a little apart, by his lantern light, she read the letter. ‘ You need not answer now. Take your own time,’ lie protested, still uncertain. But she put her hand in his before her father and Sylvester and all the trooping villagers, and together they went m to the Christ Child’s Mass.— Catholic World