CHAP. II.
Four years had just been completed when one night I was suddenly awakened by Peter, who conjured me to rise and save myself, for the Castle was in flames. Greatly alarmed, I threw myself out of bed, and found his information but too true, and the principal part of the building was consumed, and my furniture destroyed before assistance could be procured. This event gave a new turn to my thoughts, I resolved to dispose of the remainder of my effects, to leave my ruined Castle without rebuilding of it, and to travel from one principality to another, that by change of place and objects I might amuse my mind. I settled every thing with my vassals, and, accompanied only by Peter, quitted Bavaria. I passed through Italy, France, the Netherlands, Switzerland, and at length came into Suabia, on my return to Bavaria, without deriving much benefit from my tour, either to my mind or body, for I carried in my heart a barbed arrow, which no local circumstances could extract; insensible to pleasure, my eye wandered over every new object with indifference, and Eugenia, the faithless, ungrateful Eugenia, occupied every thought and desire.—Passing through this country, my good genius prompted me to pay some attention to its romantic and picturesque views. Riding about, I had not attended to the sun's decline, and the approach of a heavy storm, which came on suddenly, accompanied with thunder and hail. We were on the skirts of the Black Forest, and distant, as we thought, from any village; finding the storm grew more violent, I sought to get some shelter from the thickest part of a wood at the extremity of the road: I rode with great swiftness towards it, and soon forced my way through the trees, and obtained from their thick foliage a defence against the fury of the storm. In a short time the weather changed, the clouds dispersed, and the moon rose with additional splendour from the contrast of the black clouds rolling off behind the mountains.
Turning our horses to leave the wood, I observed, at some distance, the turrets of a Castle, which, had not the moon shone full upon them, might never have attracted the notice of any traveller, being enveloped in the thickest of the trees, and far from any public road: Curiosity, or a powerful presentiment, urged me to explore this dwelling; Peter sought to dissuade me, he conceived it to be some ruinous place, the residence of a banditti, which was known to infest the Black Forest and its environs. I allowed the probability of his suggestions, yet could not be persuaded to relinquish my design: It was with much reluctance that he followed me; we pushed through the wood, until we found it so close on every side as to impede the horses from advancing. Peter again urged me to return, as the night was far advanced, and the neighbourhood dangerous, still, an unaccountable propensity to see this retired dwelling made me disregard his solicitations, and despise the apprehension of danger. I dismounted, and fastened my horse to a tree, obliging him to do the same, though he declared we should never see them again, and I firmly believe, had he not been afraid to go back alone, unknowing of the road, that he would have left me; but he run an equal risk, and therefore attended me through almost impassable places, when all at once we came to a declivity, at the bottom of which was a small vale, from whence we saw two towers very plain among some trees at a small distance.
We soon arrived through those trees to a large old building moated all round. After going by the side of the moat, about a hundred yards, we saw a small bridge, which led across to a pair of iron gates, which looked into an outer court, within which was another high wall. Peter I observed trembled with apprehension, but I boldly pulled the bell: In a little time a boy appeared, and demanded "who and what we were?"
I replied, "A Gentleman and his servant, who travelling had lost their way, and begged shelter for the night."
The boy replied, "That his master having been ill, was retired to rest, his Lady also; that the servants were likewise going to bed, and he could not disturb them, or admit strangers into the house: If we returned through the wood, and kept to the right-hand of the Forest, we should reach a small village." Ending these words he disappeared abruptly, and, though I repeatedly called to him, did not return.
Peter rejoiced that we were not to enter this Castle, pressed our immediate return lest our horses should be stolen. Vexed and reluctant I found myself obliged to comply, as I saw no probability of getting entrance there. The next step was to find the village, from whence I hoped to gratify my curiosity respecting this obscure habitation. We soon recovered our horses, and by the light of the moon explored our way from this difficult and dangerous place. After a good deal of trouble and fatigue we reached a few scattered cottages just as the morning dawned, and the poor industrious peasants were coming forth to their daily labour (how did my soul sicken at the sight!) whose ruddy, cheerful countenances bespoke happiness and content; whilst I, possessed of wealth, titles, and what the world might judge perfect felicity, was a prey to every torment, that disappointed love, and a hopeless desire of revenge, could inspire!
We alighted at a miserable public-house, for this being an unfrequented road, no decent accommodation could be expected; we got, however, rest for ourselves, and food and shelter for our poor tired beasts. Peter went to bed, but I had no inclination for sleep, and after eating a couple of eggs, and drinking some small wine, I inquired of the mistress of the house the name of the dwelling I had seen, and the quality of its owner?—She said its name was "The Solitary Castle," because of its situation; that it belonged to a great Count, she did not know what he was called, and that for these three years past some great folks lived in it; but nobody in the village knew who they were, they were never seen, and only one man servant came now and then for things they wanted.
This unsatisfactory account, in which there appeared to be a mystery, only augmented my curiosity and desire of penetrating into the secret; impelled by an irresistible impulse, I resolved to stay a few days in that wretched place for the purpose of obtaining further information. Soon, too soon for my peace, was the mystery developed.
About the middle of the day I lay down for a few hours, during which time Peter had risen. When I returned to the room, he entered it after me, and shut the door:———"Sir (said he) as I was standing near the window, a man entered the house, whose face was very familiar to me; I was on the point of going out when I heard him bargaining with the woman for ducks; they agreed about the price, and he said he would fetch them to-morrow. He left the house, and again passed before the window, when seeing him again I instantly recollected who he was; then I asked the landlady where he lived?" She answered, "He was servant to the gentry that live in the Solitary Castle."
"Ah! (cried I, interrupting Peter) and who is this man?"
"One of your vassals, Sir, who courted our housekeeper Agnes; his father was a substantial man, and we all thought it would be a match; but you know, Sir, after you returned from Count Zimchaw's, Agnes left you to go home to her mother, and I heard the young man went soon after to Vienna to live with an uncle. What has happened since I don't know; but I'll take my oath, this man I have seen is Mr. Arnulph, though they say he is a servant."
"I hope you are right, Peter, then to-morrow I shall have my curiosity gratified."
The to-morrow came, and I was constantly on the watch for the arrival of Arnulph. At length we saw him, and Peter darting out upon him:—"Your servant, Mr. Arnulph, who should have thought of seeing you?" The fellow started, looked wild and motionless:—"Bless me, Peter (said he, falteringly) how, how came you here?"
"Why, I have been travelling round the country, and came here only a day or two ago; but pray do you live in this neighbourhood?"—The fellow, without making a reply, turned to the woman: "I must leave the ducks with you two or three days longer." I had been observing his motions, surprise, confusion, and fear, were marked in his features, and I saw he was retreating to the door as he spoke, a sudden emotion I could not account for, impelled me to spring forward, and seize him by the arm. The moment he saw me he shrieked, and fell on his knees speechless. Peter raised him: "Follow me instantly" (exclaimed I, in an agony of suspense, doubt, and hardly knowing what I had to fear or expect:) I led the way to my room. Terror had so evidently overcome his courage that he quietly obeyed. When the door was fastened, I demanded where he lived, and with whom?
After much irresolution, and many subterfuges, he said, he was married to Agnes; that she lived housekeeper, and himself steward, to a Gentleman a few miles off; there was nothing improbable, or likely to interest me in this account, and I was growing very calm, and about to ask some particulars relative to his master; when taking notice of his extreme agitation, the wildness of his looks, and the terror with which he surveyed me and Peter, it naturally engaged me to believe there was some secret which he was fearful of being discovered, and which he was desirous of concealing from me. Possessed with this idea I laid hold of his arm, and in a commanding tone of voice: "Hear me, Mr. Arnulph, I am not to be imposed upon, I am no stranger to the Solitary Castle; hide nothing from me therefore as you value your life."
"Ah! Good God! (cried he) and is all discovered?" Then falling again at my feet, "Forgive me, my Lord, I had no hand in the business, I knew nothing of the matter till Agnes sent for me after she had left your service; I had never seen the Gentleman or your Lady till I came to this Castle in the wood."
Struck with astonishment, unable to articulate a single word, I stood gazing upon him with such an air of wildness, as added to the poor fellow's terror. Embracing my knees, he again supplicated mercy and forgiveness. Recovering at length my disordered senses, I bid him rise, assured him I could not blame him; but to deserve the pardon he solicited, he must acquaint me with every particular that had happened, and how long he had lived with Count M***, for I doubted not but that he was the companion of my faithless wife. His information was without reserve: "He knew not the name of the Gentleman but as a Count; he received a letter from Agnes about three years and half ago, saying, that if his love for her continued, and he had no objection to quit his residence and be united to her, she could insure him the place of a steward where she was housekeeper, and in case he liked the proposal he must be at this village on such a particular day, where she would meet him. His father being dead (he said) all places were alike to him, and having a great love for Agnes he joyfully complied, and was here at the appointed time. She told him her residence was retired and lonely, but that she had the best master and mistress in the world, who, on account of some cruel relations, were obliged to live in obscurity and unknown. If he could resolve to live retired she would marry him, and they might live happy with a good and generous pair."
To this proposal he consented with joy, remained two days in the village, on the third they were married at the village church six miles off, and, without returning here, he accompanied her across the skirts of the Forest to the wood, where they sent back their horses, and he followed her into the Castle. He said, he did not half like such a dismal remote place, but it was too late to retreat, especially as he loved Agnes. When introduced, he was thunderstruck to see the Lady, whom he had frequently seen at my Castle, and who he had been told I was married to, but who had afterwards gone into a Convent (for such was the report I circulated, and indeed believed); the Gentleman he had never seen before. Agnes told him they had been privately married some years ago, before Count Zimchaw came to my Castle, but dared not to own it, therefore when she was obliged to marry me she had fled to avoid the consequences; that apprehensive of my revenge they lived retired from the world, and that he must take an oath never to let any one know who or where she was. This he readily promised, and from that day they have all lived very happy, and the Lady lay-in of a little girl about two years and half ago.
This was the substance of Arnulph's information, which inspired me with the most eager desire of revenge; my soul was in tumults: I inquired what domestics were with them? He said, only a poor ignorant peasant lad, whom they had hired some miles off, and from the parish, who had no parents living, and who never went out of the Castle. I observed, from Arnulph's manner of telling his story, and words that dropped from him, that he was tired of a life so solitary, and that it would not be difficult to bribe him to my purpose. Giving him some pieces of gold, I assured him I would make his fortune if he would follow my orders, otherwise I would certainly put him to death: The alternative admitted of no consideration, for cowardice was his predominant feeling, and to that I was indebted for the relation he had made; I therefore soon arranged my plan, and kept him with me until towards night, when we set off together for the wood, walking my horses as far as it was passable, and then alighting fastened them as before.—On leaving the poor alehouse I told the people I had found the gentry at the Castle were my relations, and that I was going to visit them; ignorant and inattentive they heard and were silent.—Peter and myself were armed with pistols, and I had my sword.—Neither him nor Arnulph were acquainted with my purpose, and I privately resolved they should never witness against me. I declared to them I would not injure the lives of the Count or my wife; that my sole intention was to bind them, oblige the former to renounce all right to the Lady, and carry her with me into Bavaria.
The simple fellows either did, or affected to believe all I asserted; every circumstance was favourable to my design: The Count had been indisposed, and was still weak and incapable of any exertions; the child had been ill in the measles, and Agnes confined herself with her, the mother divided between the two had suffered an anxiety very detrimental to her health and spirits. When we arrived at the gate, I turned to Arnulph with a sternness that terrified him: "Now mark me well, if you, by word or look, give the least alarm, that moment you are a dead man; you know your master cannot help you, therefore beware how you offend me." He assured me of his obedience, and rang the bell, the boy appeared, we stood on one side, hearing Arnulph's voice, he unbarred the gate, and we rushed in. I instantly seized him, and pulling him into a kind of lodge, I gagged and bound him. From thence, by Arnulph's direction, I proceeded to the Count's apartment, we listened at the door; and I heard Eugenia's voice, as if speaking to her child. Fury, almost to madness, seized me, and I burst in upon them with a pistol in each hand. He started from his bed, she shrieked, and looking at me, sunk on the floor.
The Count attempted to throw himself out of bed, he uttered some words I do not now recollect, and called upon his servant. I advanced furiously towards him: You call in vain for help, I am master of your destiny. I ordered Peter to throw himself upon him, and hold him down. In vain he struggled, for the efforts being too much for his strength, he was the more easily overpowered. With the pistol to his breast, whilst Peter secured his arms, I obliged Arnulph to cut the cords from the bed, and in spite of every resistance securely confined the Count, who now condescended to implore mercy for Eugenia; his first execrations were changed into supplications, and I enjoyed them.
Arnulph had been endeavouring to restore to life the deceitful Eugenia; her child was crying over her, and by its lamentations brought in Agnes. On seeing us, her first intention seemed to be flight, for she screamed and run to the door; but looking at her mistress she flew back to assist her, as she appeared returning to life; she besought me to spare her Lady.
"You have no cause for apprehension," I replied, exquisitely gratified at seeing them all in my power: "I swear to you that I will not destroy your Lady, or your Lord, I do not mean to murder them."
"What then is your intention?" asked the Count. "Why break in upon us like a midnight robber?"
"I have no leisure to answer questions," said I, interrupting him, 'therefore you may as well be silent; for you, ungrateful, perjured creature," added I, addressing Eugenia, who by this time was restored to a sense of her situation, and hid her face in the arms of Agnes, both violently agitated, "you, who at the altar gave me your hand and faith, and now live as an adulteress with the man you swore never to be joined with without your father's consent; know you are still my wife, and I will prove my right by my power of punishing you."
She uttered not a word, terror had deprived her of speech. I ordered the two men to carry her into the next apartment. She made no resistance: I drove Agnes and the child after her; there I had recourse to the same means, cut the cords from the bed, and bound both mistress and maid, telling Arnulph aside I would release his wife the following morning: I saw by his countenance that he repented of his confidence, and was much moved by the situation of the women, and the cries of the child, which I silenced by threats that drove her to the feet of her mother. I was convinced it would be necessary to get rid of him speedily; having therefore secured my prisoners, and locked them in separate rooms, I bid Arnulph conduct me over the Castle. I followed him through the apartments, and found one wing of it had been neglected, and was more out of repair than the rest, looking only towards a thick wood from the tower.
I examined carefully, and at the end of a gallery went down a stair-case, which had a vaulted passage. Opening one of the apartments, which received a glimmering light from the top of a broken window shutter, I bid the man see if he could pull it down.—He tremblingly obeyed me, and as he was making the trial I stabbed him in the back: He fell; I repeated the stroke in his heart; he ceased to live, and I hastened from the place. The ferocity that had taken possession of my soul precluded every sense of fear, and drove every humane feeling from my heart for ever: I could now revenge my injuries, and I felt a gloomy triumph that inspired more pleasing sensations than I had for four years enjoyed.
Leaving the wretched victim, I explored the passage until I came into two horrible dungeons, and by the staples in the walls, and chains hanging from them, was convinced those dungeons had been formerly used as prisons by the owners of the Castle. This place answered my purpose exactly. I returned to the Count's apartment, told Peter Arnulph was employed at the other part of the house, and bid him assist me in carrying the Count to a place I had provided for him. He obeyed, incapable of resistance he submitted in silence.
When we descended into the dungeon I observed Peter trembled, and threw a melancholy glance on the prisoner; he was obliged, however, to help me in fastening the chain in a secure manner round the Count's legs and arms: I then unbound him.
"Use me as you please (said he) but spare the unfortunate Eugenia, and an innocent child."—His voice faltered.
"I mean not to divide you (I replied.)—You shall have your family party here to share your felicity." Ordering Peter to accompany me, I went back to the women, and obliged him to drag Agnes to the same vault. Eugenia made not the least resistance, when told she was to have her child and the Count with her.
"Conduct me where you will (said she) with the dear objects of my heart, and I shall not complain:" But when she entered the dismal abode, and saw him chained, she sent forth a piercing shriek, and then descended to implore mercy and supplicate forgiveness. I felt a sensation of pity at the moment, but I had gone too far to recede. Agnes and the child uttered loud and dismal cries; Peter's tears ran down his cheeks, but I shut my ears and my eyes against being moved by their distress. We carried Eugenia into the inner dungeon, and chained her in a similar manner with the Count. Having thus secured them, I demanded of the faithless woman by what means she had escaped from me, who assisted her, and where she had been concealed?
"Those are particulars you shall never know (said she;) I have nothing now to fear, for death would be a relief; your savage nature may be gratified by my miseries, but never shall you learn from me the names of those who were my friends and deliverers."
"It is well (cried I, enraged at her perverseness) here is one however," seizing Agnes, "who has been an accomplice, and whom I will oblige to speak: Say, wretch, where didst thou hide that infamous perjured woman? Who were thy assistants? Instantly confess the whole, or certain death attends thee."
"I had no assistants (answered she, firmly) nor do I fear to die; be assured, my Lord, that whilst I am confined in this horrid place, whilst those unfortunate ———." I interrupted her, with my poignard at her breast, and at her peril bid her conceal any thing from me.
"I will follow the example of my beloved mistress (said she;) from me you will learn nothing."
"Die then, audacious wretch," I exclaimed, and plunged the poignard into her breast!
"Hold! O hold! (cried Eugenia) and I will tell you all:" But seeing the woman fall expiring on the ground:—"Inhuman monster! (added she) to murder the innocent and helpless, well dost thou justify the aversion my soul conceived against thee, stern, cruel barbarian! O, my father! my dear father! thy peace and happiness sacrificed to gratitude, and thy daughter a miserable victim to an unjust prejudice! Fatal, fatal prepossessions! 'Tis you, unjust and cruel woman, 'tis you (cried I) who are the cause of all those murders, of that ferocity and cruelty thou upbraidest; 'tis love, 'tis hatred, that teaches me revenge; one passion shall at least be gratified."
I turned from her, heedless of her lamentations, or the cries of her child. On entering the other dungeon I saw the Count trembling, and speechless from the violence of his emotions, I left him with the triumphant satisfaction that he was now as wretched as myself. On my return to the habitable part of the house, I examined the looks of Peter, pale and agitated, I saw he was but half a villain, and enjoyed not the glorious revenge of his master. He asked for Arnulph, in a tone of voice that conveyed his suspicion that he also was no more.—Plunged so far into guilt, murder was familiar to my thoughts, and to secure myself, it was necessary I should permit no witnesses to exist against me.
Could I have confided in his secrecy, he would have been most useful to me, but I dared not risk the hazard; therefore, after a moment's recollection, I bid him follow me, and he would see what Arnulph was employed about. With a doubtful look and a trembling step, he descended with me to the offices below, and passing the kitchens at the end of a long colonnade, I opened a door which led into a room that appeared to have been a laundry, and being detached some way from the other offices (the thing I sought for) was designed to rid me of all apprehensions from Peter.—"Arnulph is not here," said he, in a tremulous voice. Seeing that I stopped:—"No, but you are," and in a moment I buried the poignard in his bosom.—He fell dead without uttering a word, only one dismal groan, which made me start.—Looking round, and then on the bleeding object before me, whose services had ever been faithful, and who I had sacrificed to fear only, a transitory remorse smote me to the heart: I flew hastily from the dreadful scene without recovering my weapon. I regained the chamber where I found the Count, and throwing myself upon the bed which lay on the floor, gave way to the most terrible reflections I had ever experienced; the horrors in which I spent that night will ever live in my remembrance.
I had committed three murders: The fury that had possessed me on my first entrance, now subsided into gloomy retrospections, and unsettled designs. If I destroyed the Count and Eugenia I had nothing to fear; but my revenge in that case would be incomplete; I wished to see them miserable, to endure a living death. Some times different ideas struck me, which my still violent passion suggested as a greater triumph over Eugenia, to assert my claim as a husband, and force her to submit to me even in preference of the object she had preferred to me. In short, the morning dawned before I had resolved on any plan, or without having rested a single hour.
When the day-light advanced I descended to the kitchens, there I found bread, butter and cheese, with a cold fowl; a wine cellar well stored, and a yard full of poultry; plenty of wood, and an outhouse full of old hay and stray, that was musty from age. I opened the windows to give it air; and going from thence to the gardens, saw one part was well cultivated with vegetables, and another with flowers and fruits.—"It will not be difficult to live here," I exclaimed, and from that moment determined on my plan, and from which I have never varied in the treatment of my prisoners: Every day to carry to them a certain portion of bread and water; once a week a half pint of wine, and once a month clean straw to rest upon. I resolved to preserve their lives that I might prolong their sufferings, and the gratification of my revenge was a much superior pleasure to any that I could promise myself from society, or an acquaintance with a world I had long since been disgusted with; for altho' the bequests of Count Zimchaw had done away my first objections, by enabling me to appear with more consequence, and more suitable to my rank, yet habit had so accustomed me to retirement, that I felt no inclination to mix with mankind, and to retaliate my wrongs upon an ungrateful woman, and a successful rival, afforded me the most pleasing contemplation, and a supreme delight.