The Mysterious Stranger Manuscripts (Literature) (11 page)

BOOK: The Mysterious Stranger Manuscripts (Literature)
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\'Vithin an hour after Father Adolf's talk with us Father Peter
was in prison and the money sealed up and in the hands of the
officers of the law. The money was in a bag, and Solomon Isaacs
said he had not touched it since he had counted it; his oath was
taken that it was the same money, and that the amount was eleven
hundred and seven ducats. Father Peter claimed trial by the ecclesiastical court, but Father Adolf didn't want that, and said an
ecclesiastical court hadn't jurisdiction over a suspended priest. The
Bishop upheld him. That settled it; the case would go to trial in the
civil court. The court would not sit for some time to come. Wilhelm
Meidling would be Father Peter's lawyer and do the best he could,
of course, but he told us privately that a weak case on his side and
all the power and prejudice on the other made the outlook bad.

So Marget's new happiness died a quick death. No friends came
to condole with her, and none were expected; an unsigned note
withdrew her invitation to the party. There would be no scholars to
take lessons. f could she support herself? She could remain in
the house, for the mortgage was paid off, though the government
and not poor Solomon Isaacs had the mortgage money in its grip for
the present. Old Ursula, who was cook, chambermaid, housekeeper,
laundress and everything else for Father Peter, and had been Marget's nurse in earlier years, said God would provide. But she said
that from habit, for she was a good Catholic and such speeches
were a slang of the trade; but she meant to help in the providing, to
make sure, if she could find a way.

We boys wanted to go and see Marget and show friendliness for
her, but our parents were afraid of offending Father Adolf, and
wouldn't let us. He was going around inflaming everybody against
Father Peter and saying he was an abandoned thief and had stolen
eleven hundred and seven gold ducats from him. He said he knew
he was the thief from that fact, for it was exactly the sum which he
had lost and which Father Peter pretended he had "found."

In the afternoon of the fourth day after the catastrophe old
Ursula appeared at our house and asked for some washing to do,
and begged my mother to keep this a secret, to save Marget's pride,
who would stop this project if she found it out, yet Marget had not
enough to eat and was growing weak. Ursula was growing weak
herself, and showed it; and she ate of the food that was offered her
like a starving person, but could not be persuaded to carry any
home, for Marget would not eat charity food. She took some clothes
down to the stream to wash them, but we saw from the window
that handling the bat was too much for her strength; so she was
called back and a trifle of money offered her, which she was afraid
to take, lest Marget should suspect; then took it, saying she would
explain that she found it in the road. To keep it from being a lie
and damning her soul, she got me to go and drop it, while she
watched; then she went along by there and found it, and exclaimed
with surprise and joy, and picked it up and went her way. Like the
rest of the village she could tell every-day lies fast enough, and
without taking out any precautions against fire and brimstone on
their account; but this was a new kind of lie and it had a dangerous
look because she hadn't had any practice in it. After a week's
practice it wouldn't have given her any trouble. It is the way we are
made.

I was in trouble, for how would Marget live? Ursula could not
find a coin in the road every day-perhaps not even a second one.
And I was ashamed, too, for not having been near Marget, and she
so in need of friends; but that was my parents' fault, not mine, and
I couldn't help it.

I was walking along the path, feeling very down-hearted, when a
most cheery and tingling freshening-up sensation went rippling
through me, and I was too glad for any words; for I knew by that
sign that Satan was by. I had noticed it before. Next moment he
was alongside of me and I was telling him all my trouble and what
had been happening to Marget and her uncle. While we were
talking we turned a curve and saw old Ursula resting in the shade
of a tree, and she had a lean stray kitten in her lap and was petting
it. I asked her where she got it, and she said it came out of the
woods and followed her; and she said it probably hadn't any mother or any friends and she was going to take it home and take care of it.
Satan said-

"I understand you are very poor; why do you want to add another
mouth to feed? Why don't you give it to some rich person?"

Ursula bridled at this, and said-

"Perhaps you would like to have it. You must be rich, with your
fine clothes and quality airs." Then she sniffed, and said, "Give it to
the rich-the idea! The rich don't care for anybody but themselves;
it's only the poor that have feeling for the poor, and help them. The
poor and God. God will provide for this kitten."

"What makes you think so?"

Ursula's eyes snapped with anger.

"Because I know it!" she said. "Not a sparrow falls to the ground
without His seeing it."

"But it falls, just the same. What good is seeing it fall?"

Old Ursula's jaws worked, but she could not get any words out
for the moment, she was so horrified. When she got her tongue she
stormed out-

"Go about your business, you puppy, or I will take a stick to
you!"

I could not speak, I was so scared. I knew that with his notions
about the human race Satan would consider it a matter of no
consequence to strike her dead, there being "plenty more;" but my
tongue stood still, I could give her no warning. But nothing happened; Satan remained tranquil; tranquil and indifferent. I reckon
he couldn't be insulted by Ursula, any more than the King could be
insulted by a tumble-bug. The old woman jumped to her feet when
she made her remark; and did it as briskly as a young girl. It had
been many years since she had done the like of that. That was
Satan's influence; he was a fresh breeze to the weak and the sick,
wherever he came. His presence affected even the lean kitten, and
it skipped to the ground and began to chase a leaf. This surprised
Ursula, and she stood looking at the creature and nodding her head
wonderingly, her anger quite forgotten.

"What's come over it?" she said. "A while ago it could hardly
walk."

"You have not seen a kitten of that breed before," said Satan.

Ursula was not proposing to be friendly with the mocking
stranger, and she gave him an ungentle look and retorted-

"Who asked you to come here and pester me, I'd like to know?
And what do you know about what I've seen and what I haven't
seen?"

"You haven't seen a kitten with the hair-spines on its tongue
pointing to the front, have you?"

"No-nor you either."

"Well, examine this one and see."

Ursula was become pretty spry, but the kitten was spryer, and
she could not catch it, and had to give it up. Then Satan said-

"Give it a name, and maybe it will come."

Ursula tried several names, but the kitten was not interested.

"Call it Agnes. Try that."

The creature answered to the name and came. Ursula examined
its tongue.

"Upon my word it's true," she said. "I have not seen this kind of
a cat before. Is it yours?"

"No."

"Then how did you know its name so pat?"

"Because all cats of that breed are named Agnes; they will not
answer to any other."

Ursula was impressed.

"It is the most wonderful thing!" Then a shadow of trouble came
into her face, for her superstitions were aroused, and she reluctantly
put the creature down, saying, "I suppose I must let it go; I am not
afraid-no, not exactly that, though the priest-well, I've heard
people-indeed many people . . . . And besides, it is quite well,
now, and can take care of itself." She sighed, and turned to go,
murmuring, "It is such a pretty one, too, and would be such
company-and the house is so sad and lonesome these troubled
days . . . . . Miss Marget so mournful and just a shadow, and the
old master shut up in the jail."

"It seems a pity not to keep it," said Satan.

Ursula turned quickly-just as if she was hoping some one
would encourage her.

"Why?" she asked, wistfully.

"Because this breed brings luck."

"Does it? Is it true? Young man, do you know it to be true? I
does it bring luck?"

""ell, it brings money, anyway."

Ursula looked disappointed.

"Money? A cat bring money-the idea! You could never sell it
here; people do not buy cats here; one can't even give them away."
She turned to go.

"I don't mean sell it. I mean have an income from it. This kind is
called the Lucky Cat. Its owner finds four silver groschen in his
pocket every morning."

I saw the indignation rising in the old woman's face. She was
insulted. This boy was making fun of her. That was her thought.
She thrust her hands into her pockets and straightened up to give
him a piece of her mind. Her temper was all up, and hot. I ler
mouth came open and let out three words of a bitter sentence
. . . . . . then it fell silent, and the anger in her face turned to
surprise, or wonder, or fear, or something, and she slowly brought
out her hands from her pockets and opened them and held them so.
In one was my piece of money, in the other lay four silver groschen.
She gazed a little while, perhaps to see if the groschen would
vanish away, then she said, fervently-

"It's true-it's true-and I am ashamed and beg forgiveness, oh
dear master and benefactor!" and she ran to Satan and kissed his
hand, over and over again, according to the Austrian custom.

In her heart she probably believed it was a witch-cat and an
agent of the devil; but no matter, it was all the more certain to be
able to keep its contract and furnish a daily good living for the
family, for in matters of finance even the piousest of our peasants
would have more confidence in an arrangement with the devil than
with an archangel. Ursula started homeward, with Agnes in her
arms, and I said I wished I had her privilege of seeing Marget.

Then I caught my breath, for we were there! There in the parlor,
and Marget standing looking at us, astonished. She was feeble and
pale, but I knew that those conditions would not last in Satan's atmosphere, and it turned out so. I introduced Satan-that is,
Philip Traum,-and we sat down and talked. There was no
constraint. We were simple folk, in our village, and when a
stranger was a pleasant person we were soon friends. Marget wondered how we got in without her hearing us. Traum said the door
was open, and we walked in and waited until she should turn
around and greet us. This was not true; no door was open; we
entered through the walls, or the roof, or down the chimney, or
somehow; but no matter, what Satan wished a person to believe, the
person was sure to believe, and so Marget was quite satisfied with
that explanation. And then the main part of her mind was on
Traum, anyway; she couldn't keep her eyes off him, he was so
beautiful. That gratified me, and made me proud. I hoped he
would show off, some, but he didn't. He seemed only interested in
being friendly and telling lies. He said he was an orphan. That
made Margot pity him. The water came into her eyes. He said he
had never known his mamma; she passed away while he was a
young thing; and said his papa was in shattered health, and had no
property to speak of-in fact none of any earthly value-but he
had an uncle in business down in the tropics, and he was very well
off and had a monopoly, and it was from this uncle that he drew his
support. The very mention of a kind uncle was enough to remind
Marget of her own, and her eyes filled again. She said she hoped
their two uncles would meet, some day. It made me shudder. Philip
said he hoped so, too, and that made me shudder again.

"Maybe they will," said Marget; "does your uncle travel much?"

"Oh, yes, he goes all about; he has business everywhere."

"Then he may come here-I hope he will. I should be so glad to
see him. What is his business?"

"Souls."

"Shoe-souls?"

"Yes. He trades in them. Buys them."

She asked where he lived; but Philip generalised on that, and
merely said it was a foreign country.

"Is he a foreigner himself? Was he born there?"

"Well, no. No, he was an emigrant."

 

"Is it a trying climate?"

"For some-yes; but he doesn't mind it."

"Acclimated, I suppose."

"Yes."

"Is it a colony?"

"Yes."

"What nationality?"

"Mixed. But mainly French."

"And so that is the language in use?"

"It is the official language."

And so they went on chatting, and poor I\larget forgot her
sorrows for one little while, anyway. It was probably the only really
bright and cheery hour she had known lately. I saw she liked
Philip, and I knew she would; anybody would. And when he told
her he was studying for the ministry I could see that she liked him
better than ever. And then, when he promised to get her admitted
to the jail so that she could see her uncle, that was the capstone. I
said he would give the guards a little present, and she must always
go in the evening after dark, and say nothing, "hut just show this
paper and pass in, and show it again when you come out"-and he
scribbled some queer marks on the paper and gave it her, and she
was ever so thankful, and right away was in a fever for the sun to
go down; for in that old cruel time prisoners were not allowed to see
their friends, and sometimes they spent years in the jails without
ever seeing a friendly face. I judged that the marks on the paper
were an enchantment, and that the guards would not know what
they were doing, nor have any memory of it afterward; and that was
indeed the way of it. Ursula put her head in at the door, now, and
said-

BOOK: The Mysterious Stranger Manuscripts (Literature)
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