The Mysterious Stranger Manuscripts (Literature) (15 page)

While they were saying their parting words I slipped out and set
my course for Marget's house to see what was happening there. I
met many people, but none of them greeted me. It ought to have
been surprising, but it was not, for they were so distraught with
fear and dread that they were not in their right minds, I think; they
were white and haggard, and walked like persons in a dream, their
eyes open but seeing nothing, their lips moving but uttering nothing, and worriedly clasping and unclasping their hands without
knowing it.

At Marget's it was like a funeral. She and Wilhelm sat together on the sofa, but saying nothing, and not even holding hands. Both
were steeped in gloom, and Marget's eyes were red from the crying
she had been doing. She said-

"I have been begging him to go, and come no more, and so save
himself alive. I cannot bear to be his murderer. This house is
bewitched, and no inmate of it will escape the fire. But he will not
go; and he will be lost with the rest."

Wilhelm said he would not go; if there was danger for her, his
place was by her and there he would remain. She said dear sweet
things to him for that, and he said they made him very happy, but
he could not change his mind. Then she began to cry again, and it
was all so mournful that I wished I had stayed away. There was a
knock, now, and Satan came in, fresh and cheery and beautiful,
and brought that winy atmosphere of his and changed the whole
thing. He never said a word about what had been happening, nor
about the awful fears which were freezing the blood in the hearts
of the community, but began to talk and rattle on about all manner
of gay and pleasant things; and next about music-an artful stroke
which cleared away the remnant of Marget's depression and
brought her spirits and her interest broad awake. She had not heard
any one talk so well and so knowingly on that subject before; and
she was so uplifted by it and so charmed that what she was feeling
lit up her face and came out in her words, and Wilhelm noticed it
and did not look as pleased as he ought to have done. And next
Satan branched off into poetry, and recited some, and did it well,
and Marget was charmed again; and again Wilhelm was not as
pleased as he ought to have been, and this time Marget noticed it
and was remorseful, and said-

"Wilhelm writes poetry, and I think it is beautiful."

Then she went on to tell about a poem he had written the day
before, and she and Satan persuaded him to read it. He was greatly
pleased and mollified, and not hard to persuade. It was a very
stirring tale about a girl who was carried off by bandits, and was
followed through a thunderous and stormy night by her lover, who
rescued her and drove off the captors, killing several of them in a brave fight, but in his turn receiving wounds of which he died just
as the morning sun was brightening the world with hope and
happiness. It was moving and fine, and he read it well, and was
entitled to praise, and got it in full measure from both Marget and
Satan.

Next, Marget proposed that Wilhelm and Philip vary the entertainment with a game of chess, and she would look on. I knew what
her idea was. She was proud of Wilhelm's poetical success and of
the praise it had won from Philip, and she wanted to show off
Wilhelm still further and raise him still higher in the stranger's
esteem; for Wilhelm was champion at chess in all that region and
accustomed to giving the odds of a castle to the next best man. But
it was my opinion that she was making a mistake this time; she
would better try to show off Wilhelm in some other way, it seemed
to me.

Satan said he was ready to play, and glad. Then he added, in his
frank and confident way, that he was a good player, and so, to be
fair, he would play against both of them if they were willing. It
amused Wilhelm, who said-

"I see you don't know my reputation; but let it be as you say."

At the associated pair's ninth move, Satan said-

"There, the game is mine: checkmate in nineteen moves. Let us
play another."

He was going to re-set the pieces; but Wilhelm stopped him, and
said-

"Ali, wait. We will see about that. You will probably change
your opinion before many minutes. I'm not in the habit of surrendering to remote possibilities."

"But this isn't a remote possibility, it is a certainty."

"I don't see how you can know that. And I don't begin to believe
it. Let us continue."

"Very well. It is your privilege-but it wastes time."

Ile moved. The couple made an answering move, and Satan
said-

"You are worse off, now: checkmate in fourteen moves."

Wilhelm was annoyed, but he said nothing; only bit his lip.
Satan moved; the couple studied a painful while; considered and
discussed various moves, then made one. Satan said-

"Checkmate in eleven moves"-and moved queen's castle.

Wilhelm flushed, but held his peace. After cautious deliberation
the couple decided upon a move and made it.

"Checkmate in seven moves," said Satan, advancing his queen.

Wilhelm was sorely tried, but he kept his temper. Kept it, but
continued the game, and was finally checkmated, of course.

"It is a defeat," he said, "and I confess it. I believe you are
stronger than I am." Then he added, "particularly in guessing."

Guessing those checkmates so far ahead was what he meant; but
Satan made no comment. Wilhelm asked the odds of a knight, and
they played again. Wilhelm lost. Then he took the odds of both
knights and was again defeated. His temper almost got the better of
him, now. He said, ironically, that perhaps Philip could even give
his queen away and beat him. But Satan said-

"Yes. Let us begin."

Of course he beat him. I think he could have beaten him with a
pawn. Wilhelm was so vexed, by this time, that Marget cast about
for a change of subject, to save the situation. She chose music, and
it was a good selection. The talk flowed pleasantly along, and things
were soon in a satisfactory condition again. By and by Marget
said-

"Surely, with your knowledge of music, you must be able to play.
You do play, don't you?"

"Oh, certainly," said Satan, "I am a good player."

It was strange, the way he could say such things as that, and not
exasperate people. It didn't seem conceited, in him, any more than it
would seem conceited in a fish to say "Yes, I am a good swimmer."

"Then do play something. The spinet is old and jingly-jangly
and a little out of tune, but you won't mind that, will you."

"Oh, no, I can make it musical. Let me see-what shall I play? I
will play the poem-we will chase the bandits and rescue the
captive girl."

"Oh, that will be lovely! But can you make it up as you go
along?"

"Yes, that is easy."

I was in raptures to see him show off so. It was a great long poem,
and just the thing. He sat down, and his fingers began to glide up
and down the keys. It was a wonder to look at those two people
sitting there, their lips parted and their breath hardly coming, the
picture of astonishment. For this was no music such as they had
ever heard before. It was not one instrument talking, it was a whole
vague, dreamy, far-off orchestra-flutes, and violins, and silver
horns, and drums, and cymbals, and all manner of other instruments, blending their soft tones in one rich stream of harmony.
And it was mournful and touching; for this was the lover realising
his loss. Then Satan began to chant the words of that poor fellow's
lament-gentle and low; and the water rose in those two people's
eves, for they had heard no voice like that before, nor had any one
heard the like of it except in heaven, where it came from. Little by
little the music and the singing rose louder out of the distance-the
lover was coming, he was on his way. And ever the singing and the
music grew; and the storm began to gather and move toward us,
with the wind sighing, the thunder muttering and the lightning
playing; and on it came, just as if you could see it, and see the
lover's horse racing and straining down in the pursuing front of it;
and so, with a boom and a roar and a crash it burst upon us in one
final grand explosion of noble sounds, and then the battle began,
the victory was won, the storm passed, the morning came, and the
lover lay dying in the maiden's arms, with her tears falling upon his
face and the precious music of her endearments fading upon his
ear.

It was finished, and we sat drowned in that ecstasy, and numb
and dumb and only half conscious. When we came out of it Satan
was gone. All sat thinking-going over the details of that marvelous
picture painted in music, and trying to fix them in the memory for a
perpetual possession. Finally Marget rose up, half dazed, and went
to the spinet and stood looking at it. She struck a chord. Of course she got only the old effeminate tinkle-tankle the thing was born
with. She turned away with a sigh.

"Ali, how did he do it?" she said.

"And how did he remember that long poem and never miss a
word?" said Wilhelm. "I think he is the Devil."

"Or an angel," said Marget. "Tell me about him, Theodor; tell
me all you know."

But I got away; saying I should be punished if I was not home to
supper.

NEXT DAY everybody was talking-but under their breath.
They were talking sharply critical talk about the witch-commission.
"Why haven't the commission summoned Father Adolf for examination? if it were some friendless old woman who had done those
Satanic miracles with the bowl, the bottle and the brazen balls,
would they be so lax?" That is what the public said-in a whisper.
Always confidentially; adding, "Please don't quote me-don't say I
said anything." You see they were prompt to blame the committee
for being afraid of Father Adolf, yet at the same time they forgot to
despise their own cowardice in not holding up the committee's
hands and encouraging them to their duty. And they forgot that in
despising the committee for being so brave when friendless old
women were concerned, they were only despising themselves, for
that was their own daring attitude toward friendless old women.
Satan would have had a laugh at all this if he had been about. He
would have said "It is like the human race; they have a fine large
opinion of themselves, with nothing to found it on."

I had five days' holiday, now, on my uncle's farm in the country,
and when I got back another question was puzzling the people:
"What has become of Father Adolf?" No one knew. He had not
been seen since his performance on the tight rope.

Meantime Satan had been going about quite freely, getting acquainted with everybody, chatting with everybody, and charming
the whole village and winning its gratitude by beguiling its mind
from its troubles by diverting its interest to cheerfuler matters.
Among his new acquaintances were the families of us boys, and
their admiring talk of him was a great satisfaction to us, but we
were not able to reveal our relations with him and boast about it,
which we should have been so glad to do. My mother said to my
father, with a shade of suspicion in her tone-

"There is something strange about him-I can't quite make him
out. I is a gentleman-his clothes and his breeding show it; and
yet he seems to associate with any kind of characters that come
along, Rupert."

"Yes, that comes out in his talk, Marie," said my father.

"It is plain that he makes no sort of distinction between Fuchs
the rich brewer and I the loafing tinker-just as soon put in
his time with the one as with the other."

"Yes, and not only that, but he speaks of them as if the value of
the two was the same-their value to the world and the village."

"Well," said my mother with a slight sniff, "maybe that is the
right word, though I couldn't see that he attached anything that a
body might really describe as value to either of them."

1\ly father had to grant that that was the correcter way of putting
it.

"But he is young," he added; "in years he is but a youth, and that
is the prig-time of life. He will get over it when he is older and has
found out something about life and the world. Experience will
teach him a lot of things which he doesn't know now."

My mother reflected a little, then said-

"But is he such a boy, Rupert? He looks it, and all that, but
there's times when he doesn't talk like a boy. You said, yourself,
that he was curiously well up in the law for such a lad, and that he
talked about legal procedure like a person who had played the
game.

Mother had cornered him again. But she was not vain of it, being
more or less accustomed to it, and always expecting him to be pretty
random and to need watching when he wasn't on the Bench.

"He may be a good deal of a boy, and no doubt he is," continued
my mother, "but I can see that he is a superior one and smart
beyond his years. In my opinion he is going to make his way in this
world. Particularly if he goes into a profession."

"He is studying for the ministry," said my father.

My mother glanced up with interest.

"Orthodox, I suppose?" said she.

"As I understand-it-yes."

"Then he can't marry, and I hope he will not come here too
much."

"Why?"

"Because if I know the signs, our Lilly was interested in him the
minute she saw him."

"Is that so, Marie?"

"Love at first sight if I know the indications."

"Marie, if your eyes and your instincts have not put you in error,
this may be a serious matter."

"Well, we shall see. Theodor, bring your sister."

I fetched her, and on the way I told her what the occasion was,
for we were loyal comrades and always posted each other when we
could and when it might be useful. Mother stated her charge, and
Lilly met it frankly and without embarrassment. She said she was
interested in Philip Traum.

"Is he interested in you?"