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'V
NORTHWESTERN
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
The Gift of
MRS. B. J. ARNOLD
The general continued to turn over his papers without reading
them, so bad was his humor.—Han of Iceland, Vol. I., 124.
VICTOR HUGO
HAN OF ICELAND
TRANSLATED BY
JOHN CHESTERFIELD
VOLUMES I & II
PHILADELPHIA
GEORGE BARRIE & SON
1
COPYRIGHTED, 1894, BY G. B.
i8}}
Han of Iceland is a book by a young
man, and by a very young man.
One feels in reading it that the youth of
eighteen who wrote Han of Iceland during an
attack of fever in 1821, had as yet had no
experience of things, no experience of men,
no experience of ideas, and that he sought to
imagine all these.
In all works of thought, drama, poetry, or
fiction, there are three ingredients: what the
author has felt, what the author has observed,
and what the author has imagined.
In fiction particularly, in order that it may
be good, it is necessary that there should be
many things felt, many things observed, and
that the things imagined should be derived
logically and clearly and without break of
continuity from the things observed and the
things felt.
By applying this law to Han of Iceland,
one will easily discover what constitutes,
above everything else, the defect in this
book.
v
vi
PREFACE
In Han of Iceland only one thing is felt, the
love of the young man ; only one thing is ob¬
served, the love of the young girl. All the rest
is imagined, that is to say, invented. For youth,
which has neither deeds, nor experience, nor
trials behind it, cannot invent except with
imagination. Thus Han of Iceland, admitting
that it is worth the trouble of being classined,
is nothing else than a fantastic romance.
When the early years are passed, when the
brow begins to lower, when one feels the
need of doing something better than making
curious tales to frighten old women and little
children, when one has worn off in the clash
of life the roughness of youth, one recognizes
that all invention, all creation, all imagination
of art, should have for a base, study, observa¬
tion, consideration, science, limit, comparison,
serious meditation, attentive and continual
painting of each thing from nature, con¬
scientious self-criticism ; and that inspiration,
under these new conditions, far from losing
anything, gains greater breadth and stronger
pinions. The poet then knows exactly what
he does. All the idle dreams of his early years
crystallize in some way and become thoughts.
This second period of life is usually, for the
artist, that of great works. Still young and
yet mature. This is the precious stage, the
intermediate and culmination point, the hot
PREFACE
vii
and dazzling hour of midday, the moment
when there is the least shade and the most
possible light.
There are master-artists who all their life
maintain this height, in spite of the decline
of years. These are the supreme geniuses.
Shakespeare and Michael Angelo have left upon
some of their works the imprint of their youth,
upon others the trace of their old age.
To return to the novel of which a new
edition is herewith published, such as it is,
with its jerky and panting action, with its
personages all of a piece, with its savage
blunderings, with its haughty and clumsy
manner, with its candid fits of dreaming,
with its colors of all sorts thrown together
without thought for the eye, with its crude
style, shocking and harsh, without distinction
and without skill, with the thousand excesses
of all kinds which the author committed
almost without knowing how, it fairly well
represents the epoch of life in which it was
written, and the particular state of the soul,
of the imagination and of the heart in youth,
when one is in love with one's first love, when
one turns the ordinary troubles of life into
grandiose and poetic obstacles, when one's
head is full of heroic fantasies which exalt
one in one's own eyes, when one is already a
man in two or three ways and still a child in
viii
preface
twenty others, when one has read Ducray-
Duminil at eleven, Auguste Lafontaine at
thirteen, and Shakespeare at sixteen, a strange
and rapid scale which makes you pass sud¬
denly, in your literary affections, from the
silly to the sentimental, and from the senti¬
mental to the sublime.
It is because, in our opinion, this book, a
work naive above everything, represents with
such fidelity the age which produced it, that
we again give it to the public in 1833 exactly
as it was written in 1821.
Besides, since the author, small as is the
place he holds in literature, has submitted to
the common law of all writers, great or small,
of seeing his first works praised at the expense
of the last and of hearing it declared that he
is far from having fulfilled the little promise
that his early efforts gave, without objecting
to criticisms perhaps judicious and founded
on objections which would be suspected
coming from his own mouth, he believes it
his duty to reprint his first works just as he
wrote them, in order to allow his readers
themselves to decide, if they be sufiiciently
interested, whether they are steps forward or
backward which separate Han 0/ Iceland bom
Notre Dame de Paris.
Paris, Mav, 1833.
FIRST EDITION
The author of this work, from the day on
which he wrote the first page, until the day
when he was able to trace the pleasing word
FINIS at the bottom of the last, has been the
dupe of the most ridiculous illusion. He
imagined that a composition in four volumes
would be worth the trouble of being thought
out, he lost his time in seeking a fundamental
idea, in trying to develop well or badly a
good or bad plot, in the arrangement of the
scenes, in an endeavor to combine effects, to
study customs as thoroughly as possible; in
short, he started his work in earnest.
It was only by and by, at the moment
when, according to the author's custom of
ending where the reader commences, he began
to elaborate a long preface, which was like the
coat of arms of his work, and contained, with
explanations of the moral and literary prin¬
ciples upon which his conception rested, a
more or less rapid summary of the different
historic events which it embraced, and a more
or less complete picture of the country in
X
PREFACE
which it took pkce; it was only then, we say,
that he discovered his mistake, that he recog¬
nized all the insignificance and all the frivolity
of that with which he had spoiled so much
paper, and that he felt how much he himself
had been deceived, so to speak, in persuading
himself that this novel could really, even to
any extent, be a literary production, and that
his four volumes made a book.
He wisely resolved then, after having made
public apology, to say nothing at all in this
species of preface, which the publisher, conse¬
quently, will take care to print in large type.
He will not even inform the reader as to his
name or surname, neither whether he is young
or old, married or a bachelor, neither whether
he writes elegies or fables, odes or satires, nor
whether he wishes to write tragedies, dramas
or comedies, neither whether he enjoys a
patriciat in some academy, nor if he has a
tribune in any journal; all things, however,
very interesting to know. He will confine
himself solely to remarking that the pictur¬
esque part of his novel has been the object of
particular care; that one may frequently
observe in it Ks, Ys, Hs, and Ws, although
he has never tised these romantic letters
except with a certain sobriety; witness the
historic name of Guldenlew which many
chroniclers write Guldenloewe, but this he has
preface
xi
not dared to permit himself to do; one may
likewise find numerous diphthongs altered
with much taste and elegance; and finally,
that all the chapters are preceded by strange
and mysterious epigraphs, which add singu¬
larity to the interest, and give more character
to each part of the composition.
January, 1823.
SECOND EDITION
They assured the author of this work that it
was absolutely necessary to specially devote
some lines of notice, preface or introduction
to this second edition. He in vain represented
that the four or five unlucky empty pages
which escorted the first edition, and with
which the publisher is determined to burden
this, had already drawn upon himself the
anathemas of one of our most honorable and
distinguished writers who had accused him of
appropriating le ton aigre-doux of the illus¬
trious Jedediah Cleishbotham, school-master
and sexton of the parish of Gandercleugh;
he had in vain asserted that this brilliant and
judicious critic, severe toward a fault, would
certainly be pitiless toward a repetition; and
presented, in short, a host of other equally
good reasons for dispensing with it. It seems
that some one has overpersuaded him, since
he is writing a second preface, after having so
keenly repented having written the first. At
the moment of putting into execution this
daring determination, he at first conceived
the idea of placing at the head of this second
xiii
xiv
PREFACE
edition, that with which he did not dare to
burden the first, to wit: some general and
special views on fiction. Meditating over this
little literary and didactic treatise, he was still
in that mysterious enthusiasm of composition,
short at its best, when the author, thinking to
secure an ideal perfection to which he will
never attain, is completely carried away with
the work in hand; he was, we say, in that
hour of internal ecstasy, when work is a
delight, when the secret possession of the
muse seems much more sweet than the gaudy
piursuit of glory, when one of his most learned
friends entered and suddenly tore away from
him this possession, this ecstasy, this enthu¬
siasm, by assuring him that many very famous,
very popular, and very able men of letters,
found the dissertation which he was preparing
wholly bad, insipid and tedious; that the sad
apostolate of critic for which they had been
chosen by several public sheets, imposing upon
them strict duty of pitilessly pursuing the.
monster of romanticism and bad taste, they
were, at that very moment, occupied in com¬
posing for these certain impartial and enlight¬
ened journals, a criticism, conscientious, ana¬
lytical, and above all, piquant, of the said
future dissertation. At this terrible news, the
poor author
Obstupuit; steteruntqite coma, et vox faucibus hasit;
PREFACE
XV
that is to say, he could find no other expe¬
dient than to leave in limbo, whence he was
preparing to take it, this dissertation, vierge
mm encor nie, as says Jean-£aptiste Rousseau,
which such rude and exacting criticism con¬
demned. His friend advised him to replace
it simply by a sort of Avant-propos des Idi-
teurs, in which he could most modestly pay
himself, through these gentlemen, all the com¬
pliments which so voluptuously tickle the ear
of an author; he at the same time offered
many models taken from some works very
much in favor, some commencing with the
words: The immense success and popularity of
this work, etc.; others with these: The Euro¬
pean celebrity which this novel has acquired,
etc. / or: It is now superfluous to praise this
book, since the universal voice declares that
all praise is far below its merit, etc., etc.
Although these different formulas, so says a
wise adviser, are not without some tentative
virtue, the author of this book does not pos¬
sess enough humility and paternal indifference
to expose his work to the dis-enchantment
and unreasonableness of the reader who might
have seen these magnificent praises, nor
enough effrontery to emulate the showmen of
the fairs, who, in order to whet the curiosity
of the public, show a crocodile painted on
a canvas, behind which, after having paid
xvi
PREFACE
to see, one finds nothing but a lizard.
He therefore casts aside the idea of shout¬
ing his own praises through the willing
mouths of messieurs, his publishers. His
friend then suggested to him to give as
a passport to his villainous Icelandic brig¬
and something which would make him
fashionable and bring him in touch with
the century, either some pleasantries against
the marquises, or bitter sarcasms against the
priests, or ingenious allusions against the
nuns, the capuchins, and other monsters of
the social order. The author would have asked
nothing better, but it did not seem to him, to
tell the truth, that the marquises and the
capuchins had any direct connection with the
work which he published. He could, in truth,
have borrowed other colors from the same
palette and thrown in several good pages of
philanthropies, in which—^always prudently
keeping clear of a dangerous bank, hidden
under the sea of philosophy, which is called
the bank of the tribunal correctionel—^he could
have advanced some one of these truths, dis¬
covered by our sages, for the glory of man and
the consolation of the dying; to wit; that a
man is nothing but a brute, that the soul is
nothing but a gas more or less dense, and that
God is nothing; but he thought that these
incontestable truths were already very much
PREFACE
xvii
used and worn out, and that he would be
adding nothing but a drop of water to the
flood of moral reasonings, atheistic religions,
maxims, doctrines and principles with which
we have been deluged, for our own good, for
the last thirty years, to such an extent that one
could—if it would not be irreverent—apply
to them the couplet of R6gnier on a shower;
Des tillages ett eau tombait un tel degoust,
Que les chiens altiris pouvaient boire debmt.
Besides, these lofty matters did not yet
relate very visibly to the subject of this work,
and he was much puzzled to find a tie that
would bring them together, although the art
of transitions is singularly simplified since so
many great men have found the secret of
passing without a break from a stall to a palace,
and of exchanging, without incongruity, the
cap of the police for a civic crown.
Recognizing therefore that he could not
create either by his talent or by his science,
by his wings or by his beak as the ingenious
poetry of the Arabs has it, an interesting
preface for the readers, the author of this is
determined to offer them nothing but a grave
and naive account of the improvements made
in this edition.
He warns them at once that the words,
second edition, are here rather incorrectly used.
xviii
PREFACE
and that the title first edition is really what
should be on this reprinting, considering that
the four unequal numbers of grayish paper
stamped in black and white, in which the
indulgent public believed that they saw the
four volumes of Han of Iceland, had been so
dishonored by typographical incongruities by
a barbarous printer, that the unhappy author,
in looking over his unrecognizable production,
was constantly reminded of the punishment of
a father to whom they gave back his son,
mutilated and tattooed by the hand of a Lake
Ontario Iroquois.
Here, I'esclavage of the suicide was replaced
by I'usage, again, a typographic manoeuvre
gave a lien a voice which belonged to a lion ;
further along it deprived the mountain of
Dofre-Fiel of its pics only to replace them by
pieds, or, when the Norwegian fishermen
expected to moor in the criques, they pushed
their barques on the briques. In order not to
fatigue the reader, the author passes over in
silence, all the outrages of this sort which
bitter memory recalls :
Manet alto in pectore vulnus.
It is enough to say that there was no gro¬
tesque picture, no strange use of words, no
absurd idea, no incoherent figure of speech.
PREFACE
xix
no burlesque hieroglyphic, which the indus¬
triously stupid ignorance of the logographic
overseer did not have printed. Alas! who¬
ever in his life has had a dozen lines printed,
if it was nothing more than a notice of mar¬
riage or burial, has felt the deep grief of a
similar sorrow !
It is, therefore, with the most scrupulous
care that the proofs of this new publication
have been revised, and now the author dares to
believe, with one or two intimate friends, that
this restored novel is worthy of figuring among
those splendid writings, in the presence of
which the eleven stars bow down, as though
before the moon and the sun.
If messieurs the journalists accuse him of
not having made the corrections, he will take
the liberty of sending them the proofs, black¬
ened by infinite labor, of this regenerated book;
for it is claimed that there is among these
gentlemen more than one doubting Thomas.
Besides, the kind reader can notice that
many dates have been corrected, some histori¬
cal notes have been added, one or two chapters
have been enriched with new epigraphs; in
short he will find on each page changes, the
extreme importance of which has been meas¬
ured by that of the work itself.
An impertinent adviser wishes to have
added at the foot of the pages, translations of
XX
PREFACE
all the Latin phrases which the learned Spia-
gudry scatters through the work, for the
information—adds this individual—of those
masons, tinkers or hairdressers who edit cer¬
tain journals in which perhaps Han of Ice¬
land might be reviewed. One may imagine
with what indignation the author received the
insidious advice. He at once gave the sorry
jester to understand that all journalists, with¬
out distinction, are suns of urbanity, knowl¬
edge and good faith, and asked him not to
do him the injustice of believing that he was
one of the numerous ungrateful citizens, always
ready to address to the dictator of taste and
genius the wicked verse of an old poet:
Tenez-vouz dans vos pcaux et ne jugez personne :
and that he, in short, was far from thinking
that the feau du lion was not the real skin of
these popular gentlemen.
Still another exhorted him—for he should
tell everything frankly to his readers—to place
his name on the title of this novel, until
now the abandoned child of an unknown
father. He must confess that aside from the
pleasure of seeing the seven or eight roman
characters which form what is called his name,
standing out in beautiful black letters on fine
white paper, there is also a certain charm in
PREFACE
xxi
seeing it shine alone on the back of the printed
copy, as if the work which he had created,
far from being the only monument of the
genius of the author, were but one of the
columns of the imposing temple which should
some day be raised to his immortality, instead
of only a slight essay of his hidden talent and
unachieved glory. That proves that he has
at least the intention of some day being an
illustrious and important writer. In order to
triumph over this new temptation, it needed
all the fear of the author, that he might
not be able to escape the common herd of
spoilers of paper, who, even when throwing
off the anonymous, still always remain
incognito.
As for the observations which several
amateurs of delicate ear have made concern¬
ing the savage rudeness of his Norwegian
names, he finds the exception well taken j
therefore he proposes, as soon as he is made a
member of the Royal Society of Stockholm or
of the Academy of Berghen, to invite messieurs
the Norwegians to change their language, con¬
sidering that the villainous jargon which they
have the address to use, wounds the tympans
of out Parisiennes, and that their odd names,
as rugged as their rocks, produce on the
delicate tongue which pronounces them the
same effect that their bear grease and bran
xxii
PREFACE
bread would produce on the nervous and
sensitive roof of our palate.
It remains for him to thank the eight or ten
persons who had the goodness to read his
work in its entirety, as proving the truly pro¬
digious success which it has obtained; he
likewise vows his gratitude to those of his
pretty female readers who, he is told, have
been so kind as to imagine from his book a
certain ideal of the author of Han of Iceland;
he is infinitely flattered to learn that they have
been gracious enough to give him red hair,
a woolly beard and haggard eyes; he is
covered with confusion to learn that they
deign to do him the honor of believing that he
never cuts his nails ; but on his knees he begs
them to be convinced that he does not carry
his ferocity so far as to devour little living
children; however, all these facts will be settled
when his renown shall have risen to the level
of that of the authors of Lolotte et Fanfan or
of Monsieur Botfe, transcendent men, twins
of genius and taste. Arcades ambo; and when
they see his portrait at the head of his works,
terribles visu formce, and his biography,
domestica facta.
He was just about to close this too long
notice, when his publisher, at the moment of
sending the work to the journals, came to ask
some little complimentary notices on his own
preface
xxiii
work, adding, in order to dissipate all the
scruples of the author, that his handwriting
would not be recognized, for he would recofy
them himself. Such consideration seemed to
him most touching. As it appears that in this
century each luminary makes it a duty to
enlighten the next as to his personal qualities
and perfections, in which respect no one is
better instructed than their proprietor; so,
therefore, as this last temptation is quite strong,
the author believes it his duty, in case he
should ever succumb to it, to warn the public
never to believe more than half of all the
papers say about his work.
April, 1823.
HAN OF ICELAND
I.
What have you seen ? What is this that you
see? This is not me—who then? I know
nothing of it.
Sterne—Tristram Shandy.
" There's where love leads, neighbor Niels,
poor Guth Stersen would not be lying on
that great black stone, like a starfish for¬
gotten by the tide, if she had thought only
of repairing the boat and mending the nets
of her father, our old comrade. May Saint
Usuph, the fisherman, console him in his
affliction."
" And her betrothed. Gill Stadt, that hand¬
some young fellow, whom you see beside her?"
replied a voice, shrill and trembling. " He
would not have been there, if, instead of
making love to Guth and going to seek his
fortune in the cursdd mines of Roeraas, he
had passed his youth rocking his young
brother's cradle which hung from the smoky
rafters of his cottage."
Neighbor Niels, to whom the first gossip
had spoken, interrupted her. " Your memory
3
4
HAN OF ICELAND
ages with you, Mother Oily, Gill never had a
brother, it is that which embitters the sorrow
of poor Widow Stadt, for her cottage is now
quite desolate; if she wishes to console herself
by gazing towards heaven, she finds between her
eyes and heaven, the roof of her old cottage,
where hangs the empty cradle of her child, now
become a fine young man, but lying dead."
" Poor mother !" replied Mother Oily, " it
is the young man's fault j why did he go to
Roeraas to become a miner?"
" I believe true enough," said Niels, " that
these infernal mines take from us a man for
every ascalin of copper which they give us.
What do you think, comrade Braal?"
"The miners are fools," replied the fisher¬
man. "A fish cannot live out of water; a
man should not go into the earth."
"But," asked a young man in the crowd,
"if working in the mines was necessary for
Gill Stadt to secure his betrothed? ..."
" One ought never to risk life for affections
which are far from being worth it and cannot
replace it. Fine wedding bed, true enough,
that Gill has won for his Guth ! "
" Did this young woman drown herself in
despair for the death of her lover ?'' inquired
another curious one.
"Who said that?" cried the deep voice of
a soldier who elbowed his way through the
HAN OF ICELAND
5
crowd. " This young girl, whom I knew well,
was certainly engaged to a young miner, who
was crushed, a short time ago, by a blast in
the subterranean galleries of Storwaadsgrube,
near Rceraas; but she was also the mistress of
one of my comrades; and the day before yes¬
terday she was venturing furtively to Munck-
holm, to celebrate with her lover the death of
her betrothed, the boat in which she was,
struck a rock and capsized, and she was
drowned."
A confusion of voices arose: " Impossible,
master soldier!" cried the old woman; the
young ones were silent; and neighbor Niels
recalled maliciously to fisherman Braal, his
grave remark, "There's where love leads 1"
The soldier was beginning to be seriously
annoyed with his female contradictors; and
had already called them Old witches from
the cave of Quiragoth, and they were not
disposed to endure peaceably so grave an
insult, when a sharp and commanding voice,
crying Peace, peace, dotards! put an end
to the debate. All became silent, as when
the sudden crow of a cock is heard among
the duckings of the hens.
Before relating the balance of the scene, it
would be perhaps as well to describe the place
where it happened ; it was—as the reader has
already doubtless divined—^in one of those
6
HAN OF ICELAND
dismal buildings which public pity and social
forethought have consecrated to unknown
corpses, last asylum of the dead, who, for the
most part have lived unhappily; where crowd
the curious, the morbid, or kindly observer,
and often friends, weeping relations, who after
an insupportable anxiety have nothing left but
a lamentable hope. In an epoch long ago, and
in the partially civilized country, to which I
have transported my reader, they had not yet
thought, as in our cities of mud and gold, to
make these places a receptacle for monuments
ingeniously ghastly and elegantly funereal.
The light did not fall through a tomb-shaped
window of an artistically sculptured vault,
upon sorts of couches which seem to accord
the dead some of the comforts of life, and
where the pillow appears ready for sleep. If the
guardian's door were opened, the eye, wearied
by nude and hideous corpses, had not as now,
the pleasure of resting itself upon elegant fur¬
nishings and joyous children. Death was
there in all its ugliness and in all its horror;
and they had not yet tried to deck its fleshless
skeleton with plumes and ribbons.
The hall where our gossips found themselves
was spacious, and so gloomy that it appeared
even more spacious; it received light only
through the low square door which opened
on the quay of Drontheim, and from a gap
HAN OF ICELAND
7
roughly cut in the ceiling, through which
fell a beam of dull and feeble light, together
with the rain, hail or snow, according to the
season, upon the corpses lying directly under¬
neath. This hall was divided in the direction
of its length by an iron rail breast-high. The
public entered the outer half by the square
door; they saw in the inner six long black
granite slabs, arranged parallel to each other.
A little side door served, in each section, for
the entrance of the guardian and his assist¬
ant, whose quarters filled the rear of the
building which ran back towards the sea.
The miner and his betrothed occupied two of
the granite beds; decomposition was already
shown in the body of the young girl by the
large blue and purple spots which ran along
her limbs in place of veins. The features of
Gill appeared hard and severe, but his body
was so horribly mutilated that it was impos¬
sible to judge whether his beauty was as real
as old Mother Oily had said.
It was before these disfigured remains, in
the midst of the silent throng, that the con¬
versation, which we have so faithfully reported,
took place.
A tall man, old and withered, with folded
arms and bowed head, was seated on a broken
stool in the darkest corner of the hall, appar¬
ently paying no attention, until the moment
*
8
HAN OF ICELAND
when he rose suddenly, crying, " Peace, peace,
dotards!" and seized the soldier's arm.
All became silent; the soldier turned around
and burst into laughter at the sight of his sin¬
gular interrupter, whose pale visage, scant and
dirty hair, long fingers and complete costume of
reindeer skin justified such a mirthful greeting.
Meanwhile a murmur arose in the crowd of
women, for a moment silent: " It is the
guardian of the Spladgest." ' " The infernal
porter of the dead !" " The diabolical Spia-
gudry !" " The cursed sorcerer!"
" Peace, dotards, peace! If to-day is your
devil's sabbath, hasten for your broomsticks,
or they will fly away alone. Leave in peace
this respectable descendant of the god Thor."
Then Spiagudry, forcing himself to make a
gracious grimace, addressed the soldier.
"You were saying, my brave fellow, that
this miserable woman ? ..."
" The old scoundrel!" murmured Oily.
"Yes, we are to him miserable women,
because our bodies, if they fall into his
clutches, bring him a fee of only thirty
ascalins, whilst he receives forty for the paltry
carcass of a man."
"Silence, hags !" said Spiagudry. "Truly
these daughters of Satan are like their own
kettles; when they boil they must sing. Tell
me, my valiant king of the sword, is it likely
HAN OF ICELAND
9
that your comrade would kill himself in
despair at the loss of Guth, his mistress?"
Here burst forth the long suppressed
explosion. " Listen to the miscreant, the old
heathen!" cried twenty sharp and discordant
voices. " He wishes to see another less
among the living, on account of the forty
ascalins which the dead bring to him."
" And what of that ?" retorted the guardian
of the Spladgest. " Does not our gracious
king, Christiern V., may Saint Hospice pro¬
tect him, does he not declare himself the born
guardian of all miners in the kingdom, so
that he may enrich his royal treasury by their
paltry pittance at their death?"
"It is great honor to the king," replied
fisherman Braal, " in comparing the royal
treasury to the strong box of your charnel-
house, and yourself to him, neighbor Spia-
gudry."
"Neighbor?" said the guardian, offended
at so much familiarity, "your neighbor, say
rather your host 1 For it may happen, some
day, my dear citizen of the barque, that I will
lend you for a week one of my six stone beds.
Besides," added he, laughing, "I spoke of
the death of this soldier simply to learn if the
custom of suicide was to become a custom in
the grand and tragic passions which these ladies
inspire."
lO
HAN OF ICELAND
" Well! Great corpse, guardian of corpses,''
said the soldier, " what is the meaning of that
amiable grimace which so well resembles the
last smile on the face of a hanged man ?''
"Splendid, my valiant!" replied Spiagudry.
" I have always thought that there was more
wit under the helmet of soldier Thurn, who
defeated the devil with sabre and tongue,
than under the mitre of Bishop Isleif, who
wrote the history of Iceland, or under the
square bonnet of Professor Shoenning, who
has damned our cathedral."
" In that case, if you will take my advice,
my old leather-sack, you will leave the
revenues of the charnel-house, and you will
sell yourself to the museum of curiosities of
the viceroy, at Berghen. I swear to you, by
Saint Belphegor, that there they pay weight in
gold for curious beasts; but tell me, what do
you wish of me ?"
" When bodies are brought to us that have
been found in the water, we are obliged to
give half the fee to the fisherman. I wished
to pray you, therefore, illustrious descendant
of soldier Thurn, to urge your unfortunate
comrade not to drown himself, and to choose
some other form of death; a thing that would
make little difference to him, and he would
surely not wish to harm, in dying, the un¬
happy christian who will be hospitable to
HAN OF ICELAND
II
his corpse, if the loss of Guth drives him to
this act of despair."
"You deceive yourself, my charitable and
hospitable guardian, my comrade will not
have the satisfaction of being received in your
charming inn with the six beds. Don't you
suppose he has already consoled himself with
another valkyrie, for the death of this one.
By my beard, he was weary of Guth long
ago."
At these words, the cloud, which had up to
this moment hung over the head of Spia-
gudry, burst with greater force than ever upon
that of the unlucky soldier.
"So! miserable scoundrel," cried the old
women, " it is thus you forget us I and we
love such good-for-nothings."
The young women maintained silence;
some of them even, in spite of themselves,
thought that this bad subject had pretty good
looks.
"Oh! oh!" said the soldier, "is this a
rehearsal of the witches' Sabbath ? Beelzebub's
punishment must be terrible to be condemned
to listen to such punishments once a week !"
It is hard to conceive how this retort would
have been received, if at this moment the
general attention had not been absorbed by a
noise which came from without. The noise
gradually increased, and soon a band of
HAN OF ICELAND
half-naked urchins, noisily running about a
veiled litter carried by two men, entered
the Spladgest.
" Whence comes this?" asked the guardian
of the bearers.
" From the beach of Urchtal."
"Oglypiglap !" cried Spiagudry.
One of the side doors opened, and a little
man of the race of Laps, dressed in leather,
presented himself, and made a sign to the
bearers to follow him; Spiagudry accompanied
them, and the door was closed before the
curious multitude had the time to divine, from
the length of the body on the litter, whether
it was a man or a woman.
This was still the subject of their conjectures,
when Spiagudry and his assistant reappeared
in the large hall, carrying the corpse of a man,
which they placed upon one of the granite
slabs.
"It is a long time since I have handled
such fine clothes," said Oglypiglap; then
stretching his neck and standing on tiptoe, he
hung above the head of the corpse the elegant
uniform of a captain. The head was disfigured
and the limbs covered with blood; the porter
washed him several times from an old broken
bucket.
"By Saint Beelzebub!" cried the soldier,
" it is an officer of my regiment. Let me see.
HAN OF ICELAND
can it be Captain Boullar—at sorrow for loss of
his uncle ? Bah ! he is his heir. Or Baron
Randmer ? he risked yesterday all his prop¬
erty at gambling, but to-morrow he might
regain it with the chateau of his adversary.
Could it be Captain Lory, whose dog was
drowned? or Paymaster Stunck, whose wife
is unfaithful ? But really I do not see
why anyone should dash out his brains for
that."
The crowd increased every minute. At
this moment a young man passing along the
quay, seeing this crowd, dismounted, threw
the bridle into the hands of the groom who fol¬
lowed him, and entered the Spladgest. He
was dressed in a simple traveling costume,
armed with a sabre, and enveloped in a large
green coat; a black plume, fastened to his
hat by a diamond buckle hung over his noble
features, swinging along his high forehead and
mingling with his long chestnut hair; his
boots and his spurs, covered with mud, showed
that he had ridden a long distance.
When he entered, a squat little man, also
wrapped in a cloak and his hands hidden in
enormous gloves, remarked to the soldier :
" And who tells you that he has killed him¬
self? That man no more committed suicide, I
tell you, than the roof of your cathedral set
itself on fire."
l4 HAN OF ICELAND
As the double-edged weapon inflicts two
wounds, so this speech produced two replies.
" Our cathedral!" said Niels, " is now
being covered with copper. They say it was
that miserable Han who set it on fire in
order to give work to the miners, amongst
whom was favorite Gill Stadt, who you see
here."
"The devil!" cried the soldier in turn,
" do you dare to tell me, the second musketeer
of the Munckholm Regiment, that that man
there has not blown out his brains !"
" This man has been murdered," replied
the little man, coldly.
" Listen to the oracle ! See, your little gray
eyes see no clearer than your hands, which you
hide in your great gloves in the summer."
An angry glance burned in the eyes of the
little man.
" Soldier, pray your patron that these hands
may not some day leave their imprint on
your face."
"Oh! come outside!" cried the soldier,
flaming with rage, then, suddenly checking
himself: "No," said he, "one must not
speak of duels before the dead."
The little man muttered some words in an
unknown language, and disappeared. A voice
was heard: "It was foimd on the beach of
Urchtal."
HAN OF ICELAND 15
"On the beach of Urchtal?" repeated the
soldier; " Captain Dispolsen was to land
there this morning coming from Copenhagen.''
" Captain Dispolsen has not yet arrived at
Munckholm," cried another voice.
" They say that Han of Iceland haunts that
coast," replied a fourth.
" In that case it is possible that this man is
the captain," said the soldier, "if Han is
the murderer. For everyone knows that the
Icelander assassinates in a manner so diabolical
that his victims have often the appearance of
suicides."
" What kind of a man is this Han ?" asked
they.
" He is a giant," said one.
" He is a dwarf," contended another.
"Has anyone ever seen him?" cried a
third.
" Those who see him for the first time also
see him for the last."
"Tut! silence," said old Mother Oily;
" there are, they say, only three persons who
have exchanged human words with him: that
reprobate Spiagudry, Widow Stadt, and—; but
he had a miserable life and a fearful death—
that poor Gill that you see here. Tut!"
" Tut!" was cried on all sides.
"Now," exclaimed the soldier suddenly,
"I am sure that it is true enough Captain
i6
HAN OF ICELAND
Dispoken; I recognize the steel chain that
our prisoner, old Schumacker, gave to him on
his departure."
The young man with the black plume
abruptly broke the silence; "You are sure
that it is Captain Dispoken?"
" Certainly, by all the merits of Saint Beel¬
zebub !" said the soldier.
The young man left at once.
" Call a boat for Munckholm," said he to
his servant.
" But, my lord, the general ?"
" Take back the horses to him. I will go
to-morrow. Am I my master or not ? Quick,
the day is closing, and I am in a hurry; a
boat."
The groom obeyed and followed for some
time, with his eyes, his young master, who
disappeared towards the river.
11.
i will seat myself near you, while you relate
some agreeable story in order to pass the time.
Maturin's Bertram.
The reader already knows that we are at
Drontheim, one of the four principal towns
of Norway, although it was not a residence
of a viceroy. At the period in which this
story passes, in 1699—the kingdom of Norway
was still united to that of Denmark and gov¬
erned by a viceroy who resided at Berghen,
a larger city, further south, and more beauti¬
ful than Drontheim, notwithstanding the nick¬
name of " bad taste " given to it by the cele¬
brated Admiral Tromp.
Drontheim offers an agreeable aspect when
one arrives by the gulf to which this town has
given its name; the harbor is large enough,
but vessels cannot enter easily at all times, and
it always presents the appearance of a canal;
moored to the right are the Danish and Nor¬
wegian ships, and to the left the foreign ves¬
sels, according to the regulations. One sees
17
*
i8
HAN OF ICELAND
in the distance the town situated on a well-culti¬
vated plain, and surmounted by the high turrets
of the cathedral. This church is one of the
finest specimens of Gothic architecture, as one
may learn from the book of Professor Shoen-
ning—so learnedly cited by Spiagudry—^who
described it before the frequent incendiaries
had gutted it, bearing on its principal spire the
Episcopal cross, the distinctive sign of the
cathedral of the Lutheran bishop. Far beyond
the town, above the blue horizon, one perceived
the white and snowy peaks of the Kole Moun¬
tains, looking like the sharp fleurons of an
antique crown.
In the middle of the harbor, about a cannon-
shot from the shore, on a mass of wave-beaten
rocks, rose the solitary Fortress of Munck-
holm, a gloomy prison, which then held a
captive celebrated by reason of his long career
of prosperity and his rapid downfall.
Schumacher, of obscure birth, had been
loaded with favors by his master, then hurled
from the office of Grand Chancellor of Denmark
and Norway to the criminal bar, then con¬
demned to the scaffold, and cast into a dungeon
in a castle at the farther extremity of two
kingdoms. His followers had deserted him,
and he had no right to complain of their
ingratitude. Could he complain if the lad¬
ders, which he had put so high only for the
HAN OF ICELAND
19
purpose of raising himself, should break
beneath him ?
He who had founded the nobility of Den¬
mark, saw from his place of exile, the grandees
which he had created, sharing his dignities.
Count d'Ahlefeld, his mortal enemy, was his
successor as Grand Chancellor; General
Arensdorf, as Grand Marshal, had the dis¬
posal of all military promotions; and Bishop
Spollyson exercised the right as inspector of
the universities. The only enemy who did
not owe to him his elevation, was Count
Ulric-Frederick Guldenlew, natural son of
King Frederick III., viceroy of Norway; and
this was the most generous of all.
It is towards the gloomy rock of Munckholm
that the boat of the young man with black
plumes advanced slowly. The sun was rapidly
sinking behind the lonely castle, whose mass
intercepted its rays, already so horizontal, that
the peasant on the far-off hills of eastern
Larsynn could see the shadow cast upon the
heather above him, of the sentinel on the tower
of Munckholm.
t
III.
Ah! my heart could not be more deeply
wounded! . . . An unprincipled young man . ..
he has dared to look there! His looks have
soiled its purity. Claudia 1 The mere thought
makes me beside myself.
Lessing.
" Andrew, order the curfew to be tolled in
half an hour. Sorsyll will relieve Duckness at
the main portcullis, and Maldivius will mount
the platform of the big tower. Keep strict
watch on the turret of the Lion of Sleswig.
Do not forget at seven o'clock to have the
gun fired as a signal for the chain to be drawn
across the harbor;—but no, we still await
Captain Dispolsen. It will therefore be
necessary to light the beacon and to see if
that of Walderhog is illuminated according
to the order given to us yesterday. Let
refreshments be in readiness for the captain.
And, I was forgetting,—that we mark down
two days in the cells for Toric-Belfast,
second musketeer of the regiment; he has
been absent all day."
Thus spoke the sergeant-at-arms under the
black and smoky archway of the guard-room
20
HAN OF ICELAND
21
of Munckholm, situated in the low tower that
protected the principal entrance of the castle.
The soldiers to whom he addressed these
orders, left off gambling or quitted their beds,
to execute them; then silence fell again.
At that moment the measured stroke of oars
was heard from without.
" That is no doubt Captain Dispolsen at
last!" said the sergeant, opening the grated
window looking on the gulf. A barque was
moored below the iron gate.
" Who goes there?" cried the sergeant in a
husky voice.
"Open!" was the reply; "Peace and
Safety."
"None may enter; have you the right to
pass?"
"Yes."
" I will soon prove the truth of that; if
you lie, by the merits of my patron saint, I
will make you taste the gulf water."
Then re-shutting the wicket and turning
about he added: " It is not the captain !"
A light gleamed behind the iron door; the
rusty bolts creaked; the bars were withdrawn;
the door opened, and the sergeant examined
a parchment presented to him by the new¬
comer.
" Pass," said he. " Stop, however;" added
he briskly, "take the buckle off your hat;
22
HAN OF ICELAND
according to the regulations no one is allowed
to enter the prison with any jewelry, except
the king and the members of the king's
family, the viceroy and his family, the bishop
and the chiefs of the garrison. You have
none of these ranks, have you ?''
Without replying the young man took off
the forbidden buckle and threw it as payment
to the fisherman who had brought him; the
latter, fearing that he would repent of his
generosity, hastened to place a large space
between himself and his benefactor.
Whilst the sergeant, murmuring at the im¬
prudence of the Chancellory in so prodigally
issuing orders of admittance, replaced the
heavy bars, and as the sound of his heavy
boots echoed upon the stairway as he returned
to the guard-room, the young man, after
having thrown his cloak over his shoulder,
passed rapidly under the dark arch of the
lower tower, then along the parade, then
through the artillery shed, where some old
dismounted culverins, such as one may still see
to-day at the museum of Copenhagen, were
lying.
He came to the main portcullis, which was
raised after an inspection of his parchment.
Then, followed by a soldier, he crossed,
diagonally, without hesitating, and as one
acquainted with the place, one of these four
HAN OF ICELAND
23
square courts which surrounded the great cir¬
cular court, in the centre of which rose a large
round rock upon which was the tower called
the castle of the Lion of Sleswig, because Rolf
the Dwarf caused his brother Joatham the Lion,
Duke of Sleswig, to be imprisoned there.
Our intention is not to give here a descrip¬
tion of Munckholm tower, more so because,
were the reader confined in a state prison
he might hope to se sauver au travers du
jardin. That would be a mistake, for the
castle of the Lion of Sleswig destined for
prisoners of distinction offered to them,
amongst other privileges, that of walking in
part of a wild garden, quite a wilderness where
holly bushes, old yew trees and some black
pines grew in the crevices of the rocks about
the tall prison, but surrounded by lofty walls
and massive towers.
Arrived at the foot of this rock, the young
man mounted some steps, roughly cut in
the stone, until he reached the foot of one of
the numerous towers in the enclosure which
was pierced in the lower part with a postern
gate which served as an entrance to the donjon.
Then he loudly sounded a brass horn which
had been given to him by the sentry at the
portcullis. "Come in, come in!" cried a
voice from within, " it is no doubt this cursdd
captain!"
24 HAN OF ICELAND
As the postern gate opened the new-comer
saw, in the interior of a dimly lighted Gothic
hall, a young officer lounging on a heap of
mantles and reindeer skins, near one of those
lamps with three burners which our forefathers
hung from the ceiling, but which was now
placed upon the floor. The elegance and
foppishness of his costume, contrasted with
the nakedness-of the hall, and the clumsiness
of the furniture. He held a book between
his hands and turned himself half around to
greet his visitor.
"It is the captain? Welcome, captain!
You little thought you were keeping a man
waiting whom you never had the satisfaction
of knowing; our acquaintance will soon be
made, will it not ? Let us commence by your
receiving my condolences on your return to
this venerable chateau. For if I remain here
much longer I shall become as gay as the owl
that some one has nailed to the door of the
donjon to serve as a scarecrow, and when I
return to Copenhagen for the wedding of my
sister, I'll be hanged if four women in a
hundred will recognize me I Tell me, are
knots of rose-colored ribbon at the bottom of
breeches still the fashion? Has any one
translated any new romances of that French
woman Mademoiselle de Scud^ry? I swear
by her 'Clelie;' I suppose it is still read in
HAN OF ICELAND
25
Copenhagen. It is my code of gallantry, now
that I sigh at being so far removed from all
attractive eyes ... for beautiful as they are,
the eyes of our young prisoner, you know of
whom I wish to speak, never say anything
to me. Ah! without the orders of my
father! . . . I will tell you in confidence,
captain, that my father, don't speak of it, has
urged me—you understand—about the daugh¬
ter of Schumacher; but I am only losing
time, for this pretty statue has nothing of the
woman about; she is always crying and never
even looks at me."
The young man, who had not been able to
speak on account of the extreme volubility of
the officer, now exclaimed, in great surprise:
"Sh! What say you? Have you been
ordered to seduce the daughter of the unfor¬
tunate Schumacher ?"
" Seduce. Just so! Yes, that is the term
used in Copenhagen; but I defy Satan him¬
self to succeed here. Day before yesterday,
being on duty, I put on expressly for her a
fresh ruff which was sent to me from Paris
direct. Would you believe it? She never
even raised her eyes, although I passed three
or four times across her apartment clanking
new spurs, of which the rowels are larger than
a Dombardy ducat ? It's the latest fashion, I
believe, is it not?"
26
HAN OF ICELAND
"Good heavens!" said the young man,
striking his forehead; " this confounds
me 1"
" Does it not ?'' replied the officer, misappre¬
hending the sense of this exclamation. " Not
the slightest attention to me I Hardly credi¬
ble, but it is true for all that."
The young man walked up and down,
violently agitated, with long strides.
"Will you take some refreshment, Captain
Dispolsen ?'' asked the officer.
The young man aroused himself.
" I am not Captain Dispolsen."
" What!" said the officer in a severe tone,
and rising from his couch. " And who are
you then, who has dared to intrude, and at
such an hour ?''
The young man produced his order.
" I wish to see Count Griffenfeld; I mean
to say, your prisoner."
"The count! the count!" murmured the
officer with an air of suspicion. "But truly
this order is quite in form j this is certainly
the signature of Vice-Chancellor Grummond
de Knud: ' The bearer can visit at any hour
and at all times all the royal prisons.' Grum¬
mond de Knud is brother of old General
Levin de Knud, who commands at Dron-
theim, and you know that this old general has
brought up his brother-in-law."
Han of iceland
27
" Thanks for your family details, lieutenant.
Do you not think that you have dwelt upon
them enough ?''
" This piece of impertinence is right," said
the lieutenant, biting his lips. " Hello,
usher 1 usher of the tower ! conduct this
stranger to Schumacher, and do not grumble
if I have unhooked your lamp, with its three
burners and one wick. I am glad of the
chance of examining an article which dates
back to the time of Sciold the Pagan or of
Havar the Cloven; and besides one hangs
nothing but crystal lustres from the ceiling
nowadays."
He spoke, and while the young man and
his guide crossed the deserted garden of the
donjon, he took up again, this martyr of fash¬
ion, the thread of the amorous adventures of
Clelie the amazon and Horatius the one-eyed.
IV.
MERorrio.—^Where the devil should this
Romeo be ?
Came he not home to-night ?
Benvolio.—Not to his father's ; I ^ke with
his man.
Romeo and Juliet, Act II., Scene 4.
Shakespeare.
Meanwhile a man and two horses were
entering the court of the governor's palace at
Drontheim. The horseman had dismounted,
tossing his head with a discontented air; he
was preparing to lead the horses to the stable,
when he was roughly seized by the arm, whilst
a voice exclaimed: "How! you here alone, Poel I
and your master? Where is your master?"
It was the old general. Levin de Knud, who,
from his window, having seen the groom and
noticed the empty saddle, had hastened down
and fixed on the valet a look still more dis¬
turbed than his question.
"Your excellency," replied Poel, bowing
profoundly, " my master has left Drontheim."
" What! He was here then ? He has left
without seeing his general, without embrac¬
ing his old friend I And since when ?"
28
HAN OF ICELAND
29
"He arrived this evening and left this
evening."
" This evening ! This evening! But where
has he stopped ? Where has he gone ?"
" He dismounted at the Spladgest and em¬
barked for Munckholm."
" Ah ! I thought him at the antipodes, but
what made him go to the castle ? What was
he doing at the Spladgest? There is my
knight-errant! It is also a little my fault, for
did I not bring him up thus ? I have wished
that he could have perfect freedom in spite of
his rank."
" Certainly he is not a slave to etiquette,"
said Poel.
" No, but he is to his own caprices. He
will doubtless return soon. Go, Poel, and
ring for some refreshments for yourself.
Tell me,"—and the visage of the general
took on an expression of solicitude,—" tell
me, Poel, have you come here direct ?''
" General, we came straight from Berghen.
My master was sad."
" Sad ? What then passed between him and
his father ? Does this marriage displease him ?''
"I know nothing about it. But they say
his Serene Highness insists on it."
" Insists on it! You say, Poel, that the
viceroy insists upon it ! Since he insists,
Ordener must have refused."
3°
HAN OF ICELAND
"I do not know, your excellency. He
appeared sad."
" Sad! Do you know how his father
received him ?"
" The first time it was in the camp near
Berghen. His Serene Highness remarked :
' I do not see you often, my son,' and my
master replied:' If you have noticed it, it is very
gratifying to me, my lord and father.' Then
he gave to his Highness an account of his
travels in the north ; and his Serene High¬
ness said: 'Well done.' The next day my
master returned from the palace and said:
' They wish to marry me; but I must see my
second father, General Levin.' I saddled the
horses and here we are."
"Truly, my good Poel," said the general,
with a tremor in his voice, "did he call me
his second father ?"
"Yes, your excellency."
" May misfortune follow me, if I forward a
marriage against his inclinations, for I would
sooner be in disgrace with the king than lend
myself to it. But, however, the daughter of
the grand chancellor of the two king¬
doms ! . . . By-the-way, Poel, does Ordener
know that his future mother-in-law, the
Countess d'Ahlefeld, has been here, incog¬
nito, since yesterday, and that the count is
expected ?"
HAN OF ICELAND
3*
" I do not know, general."
"Oh!" said the old governor to himself,
" yes, he knows it, for why did he beat a
retreat directly he arrived ?''
Here the general, after having made a kindly
sign to Poel, and saluting the sentinel, who
presented arms to him, retired into the palace
with his mind as ill at ease as when he left it.
V.
They say that every passion had agitated bis
heart, and that all had abandoned it; nothing
remained to him but the sad and piercing recol¬
lections of a man perfect in the knowledge of
men, and who could see, at a glance, the tend¬
ency of each thing.
Schiller— Visions.
When the stranger had ascended the spiral
staircase and passed through the lofty rooms
of the tower of the Lion of Sleswig, the usher
opened, at last, the door of the apartment
of the person whom he sought, the first
words which greeted the young man's ears
were these: "It is, at last. Captain Dis-
polsen?"
This question came from an old man, who
was seated with his back to the door, resting
his elbows on the table, and with his face
buried in his hands. He was wrapped in a black
woolen robe, and one could see, over the bed
at the other end of the room, a battered shield,
around which were hung broken collars of the
orders of the Elephant and the Danneborog;
below the shield, a count's crown, reversed,
32
HAN OF rCELAND
33
was fastened, and the two fragments of a hand
of justice, bound together in the form of a
cross, completed these extraordinary orna¬
ments. The old man was Schuraacker.
"No, sir," replied the usher; then he said
to the stranger: "Here is the prisoner;"
and, leaving them together, he closed the
door, without hearing the shrill voice of the
old man, who said: " If it is not the captain,
I wish to see no one else."
The stranger, at these words, remained stand¬
ing near the door; and the prisoner, thinking
himself alone,—for he had not altered his
position,—relapsed once more into silence.
All at once he burst forth: "The captain
has certainly abandoned or betrayed me!
Men . . . men are like icicles which the
Arab took for a diamond ; he stored it away
in his pouch, and when he looked for it he
found only a little water."
"I am not one of these men," said the
stranger.
Schumacher hastily arose. " Who is here ?
who is listening ? Is it some wretched tool of
Guldenlew?"
" Do not speak ill of the viceroy, my lord
count."
" My lord count! It is to flatter me that
you call me thus? You lose your time; I am
no longer in power."
34
HAN OF ICELAND
" He who speaks to you never knew you in
your days of power, but he is no less your
friend."
"Then he still hopes for something from
me; one remembers the unfortunate just as long
as one may hope for something from them."
"It is I who ought to complain, noble
count; for I recollect you, whilst you have
forgotten me. I am Ordener."
A look of pleasure flashed in the old man's
sad eyes, and a smile which he could not
repress shone through his white beard, like the
rays which pierce a cloud.
" Ordener ! You are welcome, explorer
Ordener. A thousand good wishes to the
traveler who remembers the prisoner !"
" But," demanded Ordener, "you had then
forgotten me ?''
"I had forgotten you," said Schumacher,
relapsing into the same gloomy expression of
countenance, " as one forgets the passing
breeze which refreshes us; happy for us when
it does not become a hurricane which over¬
throws us."
"Count de Griffenfeld," replied the young
man, " you did not count upon my return."
" The old Schumacker had lost count of it,
but there is here a young girl who remarked
to me only yesterday that on the 8th of May
you had been gone a year."
HAN OF ICELAND
35
Ordener trembled with joy.
"What! Great heavens! could that be
your Ethel, noble count?"
" Who, then, could it have been ?"
" Your daughter, my lord, has deigned to
count the months since I departed ! oh! how
many sad da)^ I have passed ! I have traveled
through Norway, from Christiania to Ward-
hus; but my thoughts have always turned
towards Drontheim."
"Make use of your liberty, young man, as
long as you can. But tell me, now, who you
really are. I wish, Ordener, to know you by
another name. The son of my mortal enemy
is called Ordener."
" Perhaps, my lord count, this mortal enemy
has kindlier feelings for you than you have
for him."
" You evade my question j but keep your
secret, I shall perhaps find the fruit which
refreshes me is a poison which will kill me.''
"Count!" said Ordener irritably. "Count!"
added he in tones of reproach and pity.
" Am I bound to trust you," replied Schu¬
macher, "you, who always, in my presence,
defend the implacable Guldenlew?"
"The viceroy," interrupted the young man
gravely, " has just ordered that you shall have
liberty to wander, without guards, through the
interior of all the tower of the Lion of Sleswig.
36
HAN OF ICELAND
It is a piece of news that I have learned at
Berghen, and that you will receive, without
doubt, shortly."
"It is a favor for which I dare not hope,
and I believe that I have spoken of my desire
to you alone. Yet they diminish the weight
of my fetters in proportion as my years
increase, and, when infirmities have rendered
me helpless, they will doubtless say to me:
You are free."
At these words the old man smiled bitterly
and continued;
"And you, young man, have you still your
foolish ideas of independence ?''
"If I had never had these foolish ideas, I
would not be here."
" How did you come to Drontheim?"
" Oh ! on horseback."
" How did you come to Munckholm ?''
" In a boat."
" Poor fool! Who thinks himself free, and
who uses a horse and then a boat. It is not
your limbs that execute your will; it is an
animal, it is a material object; and you call
that free will!"
" I compel others to obey me."
" To take upon yourself the right of being
obeyed, is to give to others the right to com¬
mand you. Independence is only found in
isolation."
HAN OF ICELAND
37
"You do not love mankind, noble count."
The old man gave a sad smile. " I grieve
because I am a man, and I laugh at him who
consoles me. You know it, if you are still
unknown to it, that misfortune engenders
distrust, as prosperity fosters ingratitude.
Listen, you have just come from Berghen, tell
me what favorable breeze has blown on Cap¬
tain Dispolsen. Surely something fortunate
has happened to him since he forgets me."
Ordener became sad and embarrassed.
" Dispolsen.? my lord count, it is to speak
to you about him that I came here to-day. I
know that he had your full confidence."
"You know it?" interrupted the prisoner
uneasily. " You are mistaken. No one in the
world has my confidence. Dispolsen holds,
it is true, important papers of mine. It is for
me that he has gone to Copenhagen, to seek
an audience of the king. I confess that I
count more upon him than on all others, for
in my prosperity I never rendered him a
service."
"Well, noble count, I saw him yesterday."
"Your emotion tells me the rest, he is a
traitor."
He is dead."
" Dead!"
The prisoner folded his arms and bowed his
head. Then fixing his eye on the young man:
38
HAN OF ICELAND
" And just now I said to you that something
fortunate had happened to him !"
Then he glanced towards the wall where
were hung the insignia of his former grandeur,
and made a gesture with his hand as though
to banish from his sight a witness of his grief
which he strove to vanquish.
" It is not him that I pity; it is only one
man less. It is not myself; what have I to
lose ? But my daughter! my unfortunate
daughter! I shall be the victim of this
infamous plot; and what will become of her
if they take away her father?"
He turned quickly to Ordener.
"How did he die? Where did you see
him?"
" I saw him at the Spladgest; no one knows
whether he died from suicide or assassination.''
" Now this is important. If he has been
murdered, I know whence the blow came;
then all is lost. He was to bring to me the
proofs of the plot conspired against me; these
proofs would have saved me and ruined them.
They are cognizant of their destruction!
Unfortunate Ethel!"
" My lord count," replied Ordener bow¬
ing, " I will tell you to-morrow if he has
been murdered."
Schumacher, without replying, followed
Ordener's retreating form with a look in which
HAN OF ICELAND
39
was pictured the calmness of despair, more
terrible to witness than the calmness of death.
Ordener was in the solitary ante-chamber,
not knowing which way to turn. The even¬
ing was advancing and the room was in
darkness; he opened a door and found
himself in a long corridor, lighted only by
the moon, sailing rapidly through light clouds.
The dim light fell at intervals on the tall
and narrow windows casting reflections on the
opposite wall like a long procession of phan¬
toms, which came and disappeared simul¬
taneously in the gloom of the gallery. The
young man crossed himself and walked towards
a red light which faintly gleamed at the
extremity of the corridors.
Through a half open door he saw a young
girl kneeling at the foot of a simple altar
in a Gothic chapel, reciting in a low voice the
Litanies of the Virgin; a simple and sublime
prayer in which the soul rises to the Mother
of the Seven Sorrows to make intercessions.
The girl was dressed in black crape and
white gauze, thus giving, at the firet glance,
the idea that her days had been passed in
sadness and innocence. Even in this modest
attitude, she showed in all her being the
imprint of a singular nature. Her eyes and
her long hair were of the deepest black, a
style of beauty very rare in the north; her
40
HAN OF ICELAND
face raised toward heaven seemed fired by
ecstasy rather than subdued by retirement; in
short, she might well have been mistaken for
a virgin from the shores of Cyprus, or from
the plains around the Tiber, covered with
the fantastic wings of Ossian, and prostrate
before the wooden cross and stone altar of
her Saviour.
Ordener trembled and was about to fall, for
he recognized she who prayed.
She prayed for her father, for the mighty
fallen, for the old deserted prisoner, and she
recited aloud the psalm of deliverance.
She prayed for still another; but Ordener
did not hear the name of him for whom she
prayed ; he did not hear it for she did not pro¬
nounce it j she only repeated the Song of the
Shulamite, the wife who longs for the com¬
ing of her lord and the return of the well
beloved.
Ordener retreated into the gallery; he
respected this virgin in prayerful communi¬
cation with her God ; prayer is a grand
mystery, and his heart was filled, in spite
of himself, with an unknown but profane
delight.
The chapel door was gently closed. Soon
a white figure holding a light came toward
him. He stopped, for he felt one of the most
violent emotions of his life; he retreated
HAN OF ICELAND
41
within the dark shadow of the wall; he
trembled all over, and the bones of his limbs
clashed in the sockets, and in the silence of
all his being he could plainly hear the beat¬
ing of his own heart.
As the girl passed, she heard the rustle of
his coat, and the quick and heavy breathing.
" Great heavens !" she exclaimed.
Ordener rushed forward; with one arm he
supported her, with the other he vainly tried
to save the lamp, which she had let fall and
which went out.
"It is I," said he, gently.
" Ordener !" said the girl, for the last echo
of this voice which she had not heard for a
year was still in her ear.
And the light of the passing moon lit up
the joy of her countenance; as she replied,
timid and confused, she disengaged herself
from the young man's arms.
" It is Lord Ordener."
" 'Tis he, Countess Ethel."
" Why do you call me countess ?"
" Why do you call me lord ?"
The girl was silent and smiled; the young
man was silent and sighed. She was the first
to speak:
" How is it that you are here?"
" Forgive me if my presence annoys you.
I came to speak to the count, your father."
42
HAN OF ICELAND
"Then," said Ethel in an altered voice,
" you only came for my father's sake."
The young man bowed his head, for these
words seemed very unjust to him.
" You have doubtless been a long time
here," continued the girl in a reproachful
tone. "A very long time in Drontheim ?
Your absence from the castle has not seemed
long to you."
Ordener, deeply wounded, made no reply.
"I quite approve of your conduct," in
a voice trembling with grief and rage;
" but," added she, in a proud tone, " I hope.
Lord Ordener, that you did not hear my
prayers."
"Countess," replied the young man, "I
did hear you."
" Ah! Lord Ordener, it was hardly courteous
to listen."
" I did not listen to you, noble countess,"
said Ordener, faintly; "I heard you."
"I prayed for my father," said the girl,
looking fixedly at him, and, as though waiting
an answer to these simple words.
Ordener remained silent.
" I have also prayed," continued she,
watching the effect which her words would
produce on him, " I have also prayed for
some one who bears your name, the son of
the viceroy. Count Guldenlew. We must
HAN OF ICELAND
43
include all the world in our prayers, even our
persecutors.''
The girl blushed, for she thought she lied;
but she was piqued against the young man,
and she thought she had named him during her
prayer; she had not named him except in her
heart.
"Ordener Guldenlew is very fortunate,
noble lady, if you count him among your
persecutors; he is very happy, however, to
occupy a place in your prayers."
"Oh! no," said Ethel, troubled and
alarmed at the young man's cold manner.
" No, I was not praying for him. What have
I said; what am I doing ? As for the viceroy's
son, I detest him, I do not know him. Do not
look at me so severely j have I offended you ?
Can you not pardon a poor prisoner, you who
pass your days near some beautiful and high¬
born lady, free and happy as yourself !"
"I, countess !" cried Ordener.
Ethel burst into tears; the young man fell
at her feet.
"Have you not told me," continued she,
smiling through her tears, " that yoiu: absence
has seemed short to you ?"
" Who, I, countess?"
" Do not call me thus," said she gently.
" I am countess to no one, more especially to
you."
44
HAN OF ICELAND
The young man rose and pressed her
passionately to his heart.
" Ah ! well, my adored Ethel, call me your
Ordener. Tell me,"—and he cast a burning
glance at her tear-stained eyes,—"tell me,
then, that you love me !"
What the young girl said was unheard, for
Ordener, beside himself, had taken from her
lips, as she replied, the first favor; the sacred
kiss which suffices, in the eyes of Heaven, to
join two hearts in one.
Both remained silent, for it was one of
those solemn moments so rare on earth, in
which the soul feels something of the felicity
of divine bliss. There are the indescribable
moments when two souls commune in a lan¬
guage that none understand except themselves:
all worldly thoughts disappear, and the imma¬
terial existence unites them in a bond never
to part on this earth, or in the life hereafter.
Ethel had gently withdrawn from Ordener's
embrace, and, as the moon softly shone, they
gazed at each with rapture; but Ordener's
burning glances were full of manly pride and
the boldness of a lion, whilst the half-veiled
look upon the young girl's face bore the
imprint of that angelic modesty which, in the
virgin's heart, mingles with all the joys of love.
"You avoided me, then, just now in the
corridor, my Ordener?"
HAN OF ICELAND
45
" I was not avoiding you, I was like the
blind man to whom sight has been suddenly
restored after many years, and who turns
away from the light of day."
"Your comparison applies rather to me;
for, during your absence, I had no other
happiness than the presence of my poor
unfortunate father. I passed the long days
in consoling him, and," added she, lowering
her eyes, " in hoping for you. I read to my
father legends of Edda, and when I heard
him express want of faith in man, I read to
him the Evangelists, that he might not distrust
the ways of Heaven. Then I spoke to him of
you, and he was silent—a proof that he likes
you. Only, when I had passed my evenings
vainly watching the roads by which travelers
arrive, and the vessels which moored in the
harbor, he would shake his head with a
bitter smile and I wept. This prison, where
my life had been passed, became odious to me,
yet my father, who, until your appearance
had been all the world to me, still remained
so; but you were no longer here and I desired
the liberty which I had known."
There was, in the eyes of the young girl,
in the naivete of her tenderness, in the
sweet hesitation in giving vent to her feel¬
ings, a charm which human words cannot
describe.
46
HAN OF ICELAND
Ordener listened with the dreamy joy of a
being who had been removed from this world,
to take part in an ideal.
"And I," said he, "do not care for the
liberty of which you have no share!"
" What, Ordener !" exclaimed Ethel,
quickly. "You will not leave again?"
This expression recalled to the young man
what he had forgotten.
" My Ethel, I must leave you this evening,
I shall see you to-morrow, and to-morrow I
will leave you again, until I return never
more to leave you."
"Alas!" she interrupted sadly, "again
absent "
" I repeat to you, my well beloved Ethel,
that I will soon return, to rescue you from
this prison or to share it with you."
"Prisoner with him!" said she softly.
" Ah! do not deceive me, dare I hope for
so much happiness?"
"What vows must I take? What would
you have me do?'' cried Ordener. "Tell me,
my Ethel, are you not my wife ?'' Overcome
with emotion, he clasped her closely to his
breast.
"I am thine," murmured she feebly. These
two noble and pure hearts beat together with
delight, and nothing could have been nobler
and purer.
RAN Of ICELAND
47
At this moment a violent burst of laughter
was heard close to them. A man wrapped in
a cloak uncovered a dark lantern which he
had hidden there^ the brilliant light of which
suddenly fell on the face of the frightened and
confused Ethel and on the astonished and
haughty visage of Ordener.
" Courage ! my pretty couple ! courage!
but it seems to me that after having traveled
so short a time in the land of tenderness you
have not followed all the windings of the
river of sentiment, and that you have taken a
cross country cut to have arrived so quickly
at the village of kissing."
Our readers have, without doubt, recognized
the lieutenant, admirer of Mademoiselle de
Scudery. Torn from the reading of " C161ie"
by the midnight bell, which the two loveis
had not heard, he had gone on his nightly
round in the tower. In passing the eastern
corridor, he had overheard some words, and
seen by the light of the moon two spectral-like
figures moving in the gallery. Then, being
naturally curious and fearless, he had hidden
his lantern under his coat, and was advanc¬
ing on tiptoe toward the phantoms, whom
his brusque burst of laughter had so unpleas¬
antly aroused from their ecstasy. Ethel
started to fly from Ordener; then, turn¬
ing toward him as if by instinct to demand
0
48
HAN OF ICELAND
protection, she buried her burning face upon
his breast.
The latter raising her, with a kingly look,
said:
"Woe! woe be to him who has dared to
frighten and wound thee, my Ethel I"
"Yes, truly," said the lieutenant, "woe be
to me if I have had the misfortune to alarm
the tender madonna I"
" My lord lieutenant," cried Ordener haugh¬
tily, "I counsel you to be silent."
"My lord insolence," replied the officer,
" I counsel you to be silent."
" Do you hear me?" exclaimed Ordener in
a voice of thunder; " purchase your pardon
by your silence."
"Tibi tua," responded the lieutenant;
" take your advice to yourself, buy your par¬
don by your silence."
"Be silent!" cried Ordener, in a voice
which made the windows rattle; and, placing
the trembling girl on one of the old chairs in
the corridor, he roughly shook the officer's arm.
"Oh! peasant," exclaimed the lieutenant,
half laughing, half irritated. " You do not
notice that the tunic you are so brutally crump¬
ling is of the most beautiful Abingdon velvet."
Ordener looked fixedly at him.
"Lieutenant, my patience is shorter than
my sword."
HAN OF ICELAND
49
"I hear you, my brave spark," said the
lieutenant with an ironical smile, " you are
anxious I should do you the honor j but do
you know whom I am ? No, no, if you please.
Prince against prince, shepherd against shep¬
herd, as said the handsome Leander."
" If it must be said: Coward against cow¬
ard!" retorted Ordener, "assuredly I shall
not have the distinguished honor of crossing
swords with you."
" I might feel annoyed, my most honorable
shepherd, if you only wore a uniform."
" I have neither the braid nor the fringe,
lieutenant, but I carry the sabre."
The haughty young man had thrown back
his cloak, pressed his hat on his head, and
grasped the hilt of his sabre, when Ethel,
aroused by this imminent danger, threw her¬
self into his arms, and, clasping hers around
his neck, cried with terror and entreaty.
" You do wisely, beautiful lady, if you do
not wish that this youngster be punished for
his insolence," said the lieutenant, who, at
Ordener's threats, had placed himself on guard
without moving. " For Cyrus was going to
quarrel with Cambyses; that is, if it is not
conferring too great an honor to compare this
vassal to Cambyses."
" In the name of Heaven I Lord Ordener,"
said Ethel, " I will not be the cause and the
5°
HAN OF ICELAND
witness of such a misfortune!" Then raising
her beautiful eyes to his, she added: "Ordener,
I entreat you !'' Ordener slowly replaced in
its sheath the half-drawn blade, and the
lieutenant exclaimed:
" By my faith, chevalier, I do not know if
you are one, but I give you the title, because
you appear to deserve it, you and I are fol¬
lowing the laws of the brave, but not those of
gallantry. The lady is right, engagements
such as those I consider you worthy to have
with me, should not have women for wit¬
nesses, although—^no offense to this charming
lady—they may be the cause. We cannot,
properly, speak here of anything but the
duellum remotum. As the injured party, if you
wish to fix the time, place and arms, my fine
Toledo blade or my Merida dagger will be at
the disposition of your chopping-blade sent
out from the Ashkreuth forge, or your hunt¬
ing-knife, tempered in Lake Sparbo."
The " postponed duel," which the officer
proposed to Ordener, was the custom in the
North, where savants pretend that the practice
of dueling first started. The bravest noble¬
men proposed and accepted the duellum remo¬
tum. They postponed it for several months,
sometimes several years, and, during this
interval, the adversaries could neither speak
of, nor act in the affair which had led to the
HAN or ICELAND 51
challenge. Thus, if it was a love affair, the
rivals refrained from seeing their mistress, so
that matters remained at a standstill; this was
left to the honor of the chevaliers, as in the
ancient tourneys, when the judges of the
camp, if they thought the laws of courtes'
had been violated, threw their batons into in
arena; at this signal the combatants at once
ceased; but, until all doubt was cleared, the
sword of the conqueror remained suspended
over the throat of the vanquished.
"Very well, chevalier," said Ordener, after
a moment's reflection; " a messenger will
instruct you as to the place.''
"So be it," replied the lieutenant, "so
much the better, for that will give me time to
attend the ceremony of the marriage of my
sister, for you must know that you are going
to have the honor of fighting with the brother-
in-law of a noble lord. Baron Ordener Gul-
denlew, son of the viceroy of Norway, who,
on the occasion of this illustrious espousal, as
Artamene says, will be created Count of
Daneskiold, Colonel and Chevalier of the
Order of the Elephant; and I, myself, who
am the son of the Grand Chancellor of the
two kingdoms, will, without doubt, be made
a captain."
"Very well, very well. Lieutenant d'Ahle-
feld," said Ordener, impatiently, " you are
52
HAN OF ICELAND
not yet a captain, nor is the son of the
viceroy a colonel;—but sabres are always
sabres."
" And rustics are always rustics, whatever is
done to raise them to our level," muttered the
officer between his teeth.
"Chevalier," continued Ordener, "you
know the laws of courtesy. You will not
enter this donjon again, and you must keep
silent about this affair."
" As for silence, trust that to me, I will be as
mute as Mutius Scaevola, when he had his fist
in the brazier. No more will I enter the
donjon, neither I, nor any watchman of the
garrison; for I have just received an order to
allow Schumacher to go about unguarded, an
order which I was instructed should be
announced to him this evening; I would have
done so had I not passed part of the evening
trying on a new pair of boots from Cracow,—
this order, between ourselves, is very impru¬
dent,—would you like me to show you my
boots ?''
During this conversation, Ethel, seeing them
both calmed, and not understanding that it
was only a duellum remotum, had disappeared,
after having softly whispered into Ordener's
ear: " To-morrow.''
" I wish. Lieutenant d'Ahlefeld, that you
would aid me to get out of the fort."
HAN OF ICELAND
S3
" Willingly," said the officer, " although it
is a little late, or, rather, pretty early. But
how will you find a boat?"
Then, conversing in a friendly manner, they
crossed the garden, the circular court, the
square court, without Ordener being con¬
ducted by the officer of the watch, experienc¬
ing many obstacles; they crossed the great
portcullis, the artillery park, the parade
ground, and arrived at the lower tower, the
iron door of which opened at the voice of the
lieutenant.
"Au revoir. Lieutenant d'Ahlefeld!" said
Ordener.
" Au revoir," replied the officer. " I swear
you are a brave champion, although I do not
know who you are, and if the seconds which
you bring to our rendezvous have the right to
claim relationship, they should not limit them¬
selves to the modest title of assistants."
They shook hands; the door was closed,
and the lieutenant, humming one of Lulli's
airs, returned to admire his Polish boots and
French romance.
Ordener remained alone on the threshold,
took off his clothes, which he wrapped in his
cloak and fastened them to his head with the
belt of his sabre; then putting into practice
Schumacher's principle of independence, he
plunged into the calm, cold waters of the gulf.
54
HAN OF ICELAND
and commenced, in the midst of the darkness,
to swim towards the shore, and made towards
the Spladgest, a destination he was certain of
reaching, dead or alive.
The fatigues of the day had worn him out,
so that he only reached the shore with diffi¬
culty. He hastily dressed himself and walked
towards the Spladgest, which only appeared
as a black mass in the square of the port;
because, for some time, the moon had been
entirely hidden.
On approaching this building he heard a
noise like the sound of voices; a faint light
came from an upper opening. Astonished, he
knocked loudly at the door ; the noise ceased,
the light disappeared. He knocked again, the
light in reappearing permitted him to see
something dark go out by the upper opening
and disappear on the flat roof of the building.
Ordener knocked the third time with the hilt
of his sabre, and cried, " Open, in the name
of his majesty the king ! open, by order of his
Serene Highness the Viceroy."
At last the door opened slowly, and Ordener
found himself face to face with the tall and
pale form of Spiagudry, who, clothes dis¬
ordered, haggard eyed, hair standing on end,
and with bloody hands, carried a lamp whose
flame trembled less visibly than his own large
body.
VI.
PiRRO.—Never!
Angelo.—What! I believe you wish to do
good to man. Wretch! If you say a single
word. . . .
PiRRO.—But, Angelo, I swear to you, for the
love of God. . . .
Angelo.—Leave alone what you cannot prevent.
PiRRO.—Ah! when the Devil holds you by the
hair, you must abandon to him all your
head. Unlucky me.
Emilia Galloti.
About an hour after the young traveler
wearing the black plume had left the Splad-
gest, night had suddenly fallen and all the
crowd dispersed, Oglypiglap had closed the
outer door of the edifice, while his master,
Spiagudry, for the last time threw water over
the bodies lying there. Both then retired into
their by no means sumptuous apartment, and
whilst Oglypiglap slept on his little pallet, like
one of the corpses confided to his charge, the
venerable Spiagudry, seated before a stone
table covered with old books, dried plants and
fleshless bones, was deep in the grave studies
which, though really innocent, had contributed
55
56
HAN OF ICELAND
to give him, amongst the people, a reputation
for sorcery and evil, annoying attribute of
science at this epoch.
For several hours he had been absorbed
in his meditations; and, at last, was leav¬
ing his books for his bed, when he was
attracted by this weird sentence of Thor-
modus Torfoeus:
" When a man lights his lamp, death is with
him before it can be extinguished."
" No offense to the learned doctor," said
he in a low voice, " it shall not be this way
with me this evening."
He took up his lamp to blow it out.
"Spiagudry!" cried a voice which came
from the chamber of the corpses.
The old guardian trembled in every limb.
He did not believe, as others perhaps would
have done, that the sad guests had risen
against their guardian. He was learned
enough not to have faith in imaginary fears;
these were the more real since he recognized
the voice which called him.
" Spiagudry !" repeated the voice angrily,
" must I tear off your ears in order to make
you hear me?"
" May Saint Hospice have pity, not on my
soul, but on my body," said the terrified old
man; and, with a step that fear hastened
and slackened at the same time, he moved
HAN OF ICELAND
57
toward the second door, which he opened.
Our readers have not forgotten that this door
communicated with the chamber of the dead.
The lamp which he carried revealed a
strangely hideous picture. On the one side
the long, lank, and bent figure of Spiagudry;
on the other a little man, short and thickset,
clothed from head to foot in skins of all sorts
of animals still stained with blood, was stand¬
ing at the foot of Gill Stadt's corpse, which,
with those of the girl and the captain, occu¬
pied the centre of the scene, these three silent
witnesses, laid out like a penumbra, were the
only ones who could, without flying in terror,
look at the two living ones with whom the
conversation commenced.
The little man's features, which the light set
off vividly, had about them something extra¬
ordinarily savage. His beard was red and
bushy, and his forehead, hidden under an
elkskin cap, appeared to be covered with hair
of the same color; his mouth was large, his
lips thick, his teeth white, pointed and
separated; his nose curved like an eagle's
beak; and his grayish blue eyes, extremely
mobile, darted upon Spiagudry a sidelong look,
in which the ferocity of the tiger was only
tempered by the malice of the monkey.
This strange-looking person was armed with
a long sabre, a sheathless dagger, and an axe
58
HAN OF ICELAND
for cutting stone, on the long handle of which
he was resting; his hands were covered with
large gloves of blue fox skin.
" This old spectre has made me wait a long
time," said he, speaking to himself; and he
made a noise like a beast of the woods.
Spiagudry would have certainly paled with
fright, if he could have turned paler.
" Do you know," continued the little man,
addressing himself directly to him, " that I
come straight from Urchtal Sands? Have
you, then, wished to change your couch of
straw for one of these stone couches?"
Spiagudry's trembling increased, the only
two teeth which he had chattered with fear.
"Pardon, master," said he, arching his
huge body so as to be on a level with the little
man, " I was in a deep slumber."
" Do you wish me to send you off into a far
deeper sleep ?''
Spiagudry made a grimace of terror, which was
almost pleasanter than his grimaces of gaiety.
"Well! what is it?" continued the little
man. "What is the matter? Is it that my
presence is not agreeable ?''
" Oh ! my lord and master," replied the old
guardian, " there is for me no greater happi¬
ness than the sight of your excellency."
And the effort which he made to give to
his terrified countenance a smiling expres-
HAN OF ICELAND
59
sion, would have caused all but the dead to
laugh.
"Youold tailless fox, my excellency orders
you to give me Gill Stadt's clothes."
In pronouncing this name the little man's
fierce and mocking expression became melan¬
choly and sad.
" Oh ! master, pardon me, I no longer have
them," said Spiagudry; " yom: grace knows
that we are obliged to deliver to the royal treas¬
ury the spoils from the miners, which the king
inherits in his rank as their born guardian."
The little man turned toward the corpse,
crossed his arms, and said in a low voice;
"He is right. These miserable miners are
like the eiderduck' j we make nests for them
only to steal their down."
Then, raising the corpse in his arms and
embracing it firmly he gave a savage cry of
love and grief, similar to the growling of a
bear caressing its young. These inarticulate
sounds were mingled, at intervals, with some
words of a strange jargon which Spiagudry
did not understand.
He let the corpse fall back on the stone and
turned toward the guardian.
" Do you know, accursdd sorcerer, the name
of the soldier born under an unlucky star, who
has had the misfortune to be preferred to Gill
by this girl?"
6o
HAN OF ICELAND
And he kicked the cold remains of Guth
Stersen.
Spiagudry made a negative sign.
"Ah, well! By the axe of Ingulphus, the
chief of my race, I will exterminate all the
wearers of that uniform," and he pointed to
the officer's clothes. " He of whom I wish
vengeance will be found in the number. I
will burn all the forest in order to burn the
one venomous shrub it contains. I have sworn
it on the day of Gill's death; and I have
already given to him a companion which
should rejoice his soul. Oh, Gill! there you
are without life or motion, you who could
outstrip the seal, the chamois in its course,
you who could strangle any bear of the Kole
Mountains in a struggle; there you lie motion¬
less, you who could run the Drontheimhus from
Orkel all the way to Lake Smiasen in a day,
you who could mount the peaks of Dofre-Field
as a squirrel runs up an oak, there you are
speechless. Gill, you, who, standing on the
summit of stormy Konigsberg, could sing
higher than the thunder. Oh, Gill 1 it was then
in vain that I destroyed the mines of Faroe
for your sake; it was in vain that I burned
the cathedral of Drontheim ; all my labor has
been lost, and I will not see perpetuated in
you the race of the children of Iceland, the
descendants of Ingulphus the exterminator;
HAN OF ICELAND
6i
you will not inherit my stone axe; on the
contrary, you have left me your skull from
which to drink the waters of the sea and the
blood of men."
At these words he seized the head of the
corpse.
"Spiagudry," said he, "help me." And
throwing off his gloves he showed his huge
hands armed with long nails, hard and bent
like those of a wild beast.
Spiagudry, who saw he was ready to sever
the corpse's skull with his sabre, cried with an
accent of horror, which he could not sup¬
press:
" Righteous heavens! Master! a dead man!"
"Oh, well!" tranquilly replied the little
man, "would you prefer that this blade be
sharpened here on a live one ?"
"Oh! permit me to entreat your excel¬
lency . . . how can your excellency pro¬
fane ? . . . Your Grace . . . my lord, your
serenity would not . . ."
" Have you finished ! Have I need of all
these titles, living skeleton, to believe in your
profound respect for my sabre?"
"By Saint Waldemar, by Saint Usuph,
in the name of Saint Hospice, spare the
dead!"
" Keep me, and do not speak of saints to
the devil."
62
HAN OF ICELAND
"My lord," continued the suppliant Spia-
gudry, "by your illustrious ancestor, Saint
Ingulphus !"
" Ingulphus the exterminator was a repro¬
bate like myself."
"In the name of Heaven," said the old
man, falling on his knees, " it is tliis reproach
that I wish to spare you."
The little man now lost all patience. His
stern gray eyes flashed like burning coals.
"Help me!" repeated he, brandishing his
sabre. These two words were pronounced with a
voice like that of a lion, if he were able to speak.
The guardian, trembling and half dead,
seated himself on the black stone, and held
in his hands Gill's cold and clammy head,
whilst the little man with the help of his
dagger and sabre, separated the skull with a
singular dexterity.
When this operation was finished he gazed for
some time at the bloody skull, addressing strange
words to it; then he handed it to Spiagudry
to scrape and wash it, and said, with a kind of
howl: " And I shall not, in dying, have the
consolation of knowing that an heir with the
spirit of Ingulphus will drink from my skull
the blood of men or the waters of the sea.''
After a sinister reverie, he continued :
"The hurricane is followed by the hurri¬
cane, the avalanche brings down avalanche.
HAN OF ICELAND
63
and I shall be the last of my race. Why did
not Gill hate, as I, all who have a humane
face? What demon, enemy of the demon
Ingulphus has driven him to enter these fatal
mines in search of a little gold?"
Spiagudry, who brought back Gill's skull,
interrupted him. "Your excellency is right;
' gold itself, says Snorro Sturleson, is often
bought too dear.' "
"You recall to my mind," said the little
man, "a commission with which I must
charge you; here is an iron box that I found
on that officer, from whom you have not, as
you see, secured all the spoil; it is so firmly
closed, that it ought to contain gold, the only
thing precious in the eyes of men; you take
it to the widow Stadt, in the hamlet of Thoc-
tree, to repay for her loss."
He then drew from his bag of reindeer
skins a very small iron box. Spiagudry
received it and bowed.
"Fulfil my order faithfully," said the little
man, giving him a piercing look; " remember
that nothing prevents two demons from meet¬
ing again; I believe that you are more of a
coward than a miser, and you are answerable
to me for this casket."
" Oh ! master, on my soul."
" Not so! on your bones and on your
flesh."
64
HAN OF ICELAND
At this moment, the outer door of the
Spladgest was struck a violent blow. The lit¬
tle man looked astonished, Spiagudry started,
and covered his lamp with his hand.
"What is that?" grumbled the little man.
. . . "And you, old witch, how you will
tremble when you hear the trumpets of the
last judgment."
A second knock, louder than before, was
heard. "It is some corpse in a hurry to
enter," said the little man.
" No, master," murmured Spiagudry, " they
do not bring dead bodies after midnight."
" Dead or living, he drives me away. You,
Spiagudry, be faithful and silent. I swear to
you, by the spirit of Ingulphus and by Gill's
skull, that you will review, in your inn, corpses
of all the regiment of Munckholm."
And the little man, attaching Gill's skull
to his girdle and putting on his gloves, sprang
with the agility of the chamois and the aid of
Spiagudry's shoulders, through the opening
in the roof, and disappeared.
A third blow resounded through the Splad¬
gest, and a voice from without ordered it to be
opened in the name of the king and the viceroy.
Then the old guardian, by this time excited
by two different terrors, one of which could
be called remembrance, and the other hope,
started towards the square door, and opened it.
VII.
The joy of temporal happiness is dissipated
in the seeking, by regrets and sorrow, without
ever having been reached.
Confessions of Saint Augmtin.
Entering his study after having left Poel,
the Governor of Drontheim seated himself in
a large arm-chair, and ordered, by way of
distraction, one of his secretaries to read to
him the petitions presented to the government.
The latter, after bowing, commenced:
" I. The Reverend Doctor Anglyvius peti¬
tions that he may succeed the Reverend Doc¬
tor Foxtipp, Director of the Episcopal Library,
for reason of incapacity. The petitioner does
not know who is able to replace the said
incapable doctor; he only knows that he,
-Doctor Anglyvius, has for a long time exer¬
cised the functions of librarian ..."
"Refer this rogue to the bishop," inter¬
rupted the general.
" 2. Althanase Munder, priest, prison chap¬
lain, begs for the pardon of twelve penitent
criminals, on the occasion of the glorious
65
66
HAN OF ICELAND
wedding of his civility Ordener Guldenlew,
Baron of Thorwick, Chevalier of Danneborog,
son of the viceroy, with the noble lady
Ulrica d'Ahlefeld, daughter of his Grace, the
Count Grand Chancellor of the two king¬
doms."
"Adjourn," said the general. "I pity the
criminals."
" 3. Fauste Prudens Destrombides, Norwe¬
gian subject, latin poet, begs to compose the
epithalamium of the said noble pair."
" Ah ! ah ! the good man must have grown
old, for he is the same man who, in 1674,
wrote an epithalamium on the proposed mar¬
riage between Schumacker, then Count of
Griffenfeld, and the Princess Louise Charlotte
of Holstein-Augustenburg, which never took
place. I fear," added the governor to himself,
" that Fauste Prudens is the poet of broken-
off marriages. Adjourn the petition, and con¬
tinue. With regard to the poet, we must see
if there is not a vacancy at Drontheim
Asylum."
" 4. The miners from Guldbranshal, the
Faroe Isles, of Sund Moer, of Hubfalls, of
Rceraas, and of Konigsberg, petition to be free
from the royal tax."
" These miners are dissatisfied. It is said
that they are already murmuring at the long
silence maintained with regard to their
HAN OF ICELAND
67
petition. Let it be put aside for careful
examination."
"5. Braall, fisherman, petitions in virtue of
the Odelsrecht', that he may repurchase his
holdings."
" 6. The Syndics of Noes, Lcevig, Indal,
Skongen, Stod, Sparbo, and other towns and
villages in the Northern Drontheimhus, peti¬
tion that a price be put on the head of the
brigand, assassin, and incendiary Han, a native
it is said of Klipstadur, in Iceland. A counter
petition from Nyehol Orugix, executioner of
the Drontheimhus, who maintains that Han is
his property. He is seconded by Benignus
Spiagudry, guardian of the Spladgest, who
should receive the corpse."
" This brigand is a dangerous fellow," said
the general, " particularly when a revolt
among the miners is to be feared. Let it be
proclaimed that a reward of a thousand royal
crowns will be paid for his head."
" 7. Benignus Spiagudry, doctor, antiquary,
sculptor, mineralogist, naturalist, botanist,
lawyer, chemist, mechanician, physician,
astronomer, theologian, grammarian "
"Well, well!" interrupted the general, "is
not this the same Spiagudry who is the guardian
of the Spladgest ?"
"Yes, your excellency," replied the secre¬
tary, continuing, " guardian for his majesty
*
68
HAN OF ICELAND
of the royal establishment called the Spladgest,
situated in the town of Drontheim, main¬
tains that he, Benignus Spiagudry, who dis¬
covered that the planets are not illumined by
the sun, item, that the true name of Odin is
Frigge, son of Fidulph; item, that the lot-
worm feeds on sand ; item, that the noise of
the populace drives the fish away from the
coast of Norway, so that the means of sub¬
sistence diminish in proportion to the increase
of the people; item, that the gulf called Otte-
Sund used to be called Limfiord and was given
the name of Otte-Sund only after Othon of
Roux had his lance into it; item, and it was
by his advice and under his direction that the
old statue of Freya now represents the statue
of Justice, which ornaments the large square
at Drontheim ; and that the lion at the base
of the idol has been effaced to give place to a
devil, the picture of crime; item, ..."
" Spare us a further record of his eminent
services. What does he want ?''
The secretary turned over several sheets,
and continued :
" The humble servant, in virtue of the many
works he has contributed to science and litera¬
ture, petitions that your excellency will augment
the price given for every corpse, both male and
female, ten ascalins—which can only please the
dead, as it would prove the value set upon them.''
HAN OF ICELAND
69
At this moment the door was thrown open,
and the usher announced in a loud voice,
the noble lady, the Countess d 'Ahlefeld.
At the same time a tall lady, wearing a
countess' coronet on her head, richly dressed
in scarlet satin, bordered with ermine and
gold fringe, entered, and, taking the gen¬
eral's proffered hand, seated herself near to
him.
The countess was about fifty years of age.
Pride and ambition had left their traces on her
face, adding years to her looks, which time
might have spared.
"Well, my lord general," she turned
towards the old governor, with her scornful
and fake glance, " your pupil is keeping us
waiting; he was to be here before sunset."
" He would have been here, countess, had
he not gone to Munckholm soon after his
arrival."
" What, to Munckholm ? I hope he has not
gone in search of Schumacher."
" It is quite possible."
" The Baron of Thorwick's first visit to be
paid to Schumacker!"
"Why not, countess? Schumacker is un¬
happy."
" Do you mean to say, general, that the
viceroy's son is in league with this state
prisoner ?"
9
^o
HAN OF ICELAND
" Frederick Guldenlew, in placing his son
under my charge, noble lady, asked me to
bring him up as I would my own. I con¬
sidered Schumacher's acquaintance would be
useful to Ordener, who will occupy a high
position. With the viceroy's consent I
obtained from my brother, Grummond de
Knud, the right of entry to all the prisons,
and I gave Ordener the written permission of
which he has availed himself."
" How long is it, noble general, since Baron
Ordener made this useful acquaintance ?"
" More than a year ago, countess ; he must
have found pleasure in Schumacher's society,
judging from the length of his visit to Dron-
theini; and it was only with regret and at my
express wish that he left last year to make a
tour of Norway."
" Does Schumacher know that his consoler
is the son of one of his bitterest enemies ?''
" He knows him to be a friend, and that is
sufficient for him, as it would be for us."
"But you, my lord general," said the
countess, with a penetrating glance, "were
you aware, when tolerating, or rather, forward¬
ing, this intimacy, that Schumacher has a
daughter ?''
" I knew it, countess."
"And you consider this a matter of indif¬
ference to your pupil ?''
HAN OF ICELAND
71
" Levin de Knud's ward, Frederick Gulden-
lew's son, is a man of honor. Ordener knows
the barrier which separates him from Schu¬
macher's daughter, and he is incapable of dis¬
honorably courting any girl, particularly the
daughter of an unfortunate man."
The noble Countess d'Ahlefeld blushed, and
then becoming pale, turned her head aside, in
order to avoid the old man's accusing look.
"At all events," she stammered, "you
must allow me to say, general, that I consider
this acquaintance both singular and imprudent.
They say that the miners and the people in the
north threaten to revolt, and that Schumacher
is compromised in this affair."
" Noble lady, you surprise me !" exclaimed
the governor. " Schumacher has calmly
borne his misfortunes until now. This rumor
is doubtless without foundation."
The usher at this moment appeared at the
door to say that a messenger had arrived, from
his grace the grand chancellor, for the noble
countess.
The lady rose hurriedly, bowed, and, leav¬
ing the governor to continue his work, she
hastened to her own apartments, situated in a
wing of the palace, and ordered the mes¬
senger to be brought before her.
She was seated in the midst of her ladies-
in-waiting, when the envoy entered. The
72
HAN OF ICELAND
countess cast a look of involuntary repugnance
toward him, which she hastened to hide under
a smile. At the first glance, the new-comer
presented anything but a repulsive appearance.
He was of medium height, his corpulency
denoting anything but a messenger. On a
closer inspection, the openness of his face was
really insolence, and his jovial manner con¬
cealed something diabolical and sinister. He
bowed profoundly to the countess and pre¬
sented her with a packet sealed with silken cord.
"Noble lady," said he, "permit me to
place at yoiu: feet a precious message from his
grace, your illustrious husband, my respected
master.''
" Is he not coming himself? and why is it
he makes you his messenger ?" asked the
countess.
" Matters of importance detained his grace;
this letter will explain all. My noble master
desired me to speak to you in private.''
The countess turned pale, and exclaimed,
in trembling accents:
"A private interview with you, Musdoe-
mon ?''
" If this causes the noble lady any annoy¬
ance, her unworthy servant will be in despair.''
"Annoyance! oh, not at all," replied the
countess, forcing a smile; "but is this inter¬
view really necessary ?''
HAN OF ICELAND
73
The envoy bowed to the ground.
"Absolutely necessary! The letter the
illustrious countess has deigned to receive at
my hands expresses the formal injunction."
It was a strange sight to see the haughty
Countess d'Ahlefeld tremble and grow pale
before one of the retinue, who treated her
with such profound respect. She leisurely
unfastened the packet, and read the contents.
After another perusal, she turned to the ladies,
saying, in a faint voice:
" Leave me •, I would be alone."
"Deign, noble lady," said the messenger,
bending the knee before her, "to pardon the
liberty I dare to take, and the annoyance I
am causing you."
" On the contrary," answered the countess,
with a forced smile, " I am happy to see you."
The ladies retired.
"Elphege, have you forgotten the time
when a tete-a-t6te with me was not repugnant
to you ?''
These words came from the messenger to
the noble countess. They were accompanied
by a laugh such as Satan would give when the
compact has expired and he claims the soul
which is given to him.
The noble lady bent her humiliated head.
"Would that I had forgotten !" she mur¬
mured.
74
HAN OF ICELAND
" Poor, foolish thing. Why do you blush
for what no human eye has seen ?*'
" Men may not see, but God sees."
" God ? Weak woman ! You are not wor¬
thy of having deceived your husband, for he
is less credulous than you are.''
"You show little generosity by ridiculing
my remorse, Musdoemon."
" Well, then, Elphdge, if so, why do you
insult them daily by committing fresh crimes ?''
The Countess d'Ahlefeld hid her face in
her hands, and the messenger continued :
"Elphdge, you must take your choice—
either remorse and no more crimes, or the
crime and no more remorse. Do as I have
done, choose the latter—it is far the best, and
decidedly the more cheerful."
"It is to be hoped," said the countess, in
a low tone, " you will not find these words in
eternity."
" Now, my dear, quit joking."
Musdoemon took a seat near the countess,
and passed his arm round her neck, saying :
" Elphege, try to be the same in spirit as
you were twenty years since."
The unfortunate countess, the slave of her
accomplice, tried to respond to this degrading
caress. There was something too revolting
in the adulterous embraces of these two beings,
who despised and execrated each other, even
HAN OF ICELAND
75
to the fallen creatures themselves. Forbidden
endearments, which had once been their joy—
now they enforced them upon each other—
became torture. The just and strange change
of guilty affection. Their crime became its
own punishment.
The countess, to shorten her sufferings,
asked her odious lover, as she released her¬
self from his clasp, what verbal message her
husband had given him.
" D'Ahlefeld," said Musdoemon, "at the
very moment he was about to strengthen his
influence by the marriage of Ordener Gulden-
lew with our daughter ''
"Our daughter!" exclaimed the haughty
countess, with a look of pride and disdain at
Musdoemon.
"Well," replied the envoy coolly, "I
think Ulrica belongs to me at least as much
as to him. I was telling you that this mar¬
riage will not alone satisfy your husband, if
he cannot at the same time compass Schu-
macker's complete downfall. This old favor¬
ite, from the depths of his prison, is almost as
much to be feared as he was in his palace.
He has some friends in the dark at court, the
more powerful, perhaps, from their very
obscurity. The king, hearing about a month
since that the grand chancellor's negotiations
with the Duke of Hoktein-Plcen were at a
76
HAN OF ICELAND
Stand-Still, exclaimed, impatiently: 'Griffen-
feld knew as much as all of them put together.'
A plotter named Dispolsen, who had come
from Munckholm to Copenhagen, had several
audiences with his majesty, after which the
king sent for all the deeds deposited with the
chancellor, relating to Schumacker's titles and
property. At present, we are not aware what
Schumacher aims at. If he but asks for
liberty, that to a State prisoner means power.
He must die, and it must be done in judicial
form. We are endeavoring to convict him of
some crime. Your husband, Elphege, under
pretext of inspecting the Northern Provinces,
has gone incognito among the miners, whom
we are secretly urging to insurrection, in the
name of Schumacher, which it will afterward
be easy to quell. We are anxious about the
loss of several important documents relating
to the plan, which we believe are in Dispol-
sen's hands. Knowing that he had left Copen¬
hagen for Munckholm, taking back Schu¬
macker's parchments, diplomas, and perhaps
the very papers that would be our death-blow,
or at least compromise us, we posted some
faithful servants in the passes of the Kole
Mountains, with instructions to make away
with him after having robbed him of his docu¬
ments. But, if, as I am told, Dispolsen came
to Berghen by sea, we have gained nothing
HAN OF ICELAND
77
for our pains. Yet, on my arrival here, I
heard it rumored that a Captain Dispolsen had
been murdered. We will see. We are also
in search of a famous brigand, called Han of
Iceland, whom we wish to place at the head of
the insurgents. And now, my dear, what news
have you for me ? Has the pretty bird of Munck-
holm been taken alive in her cage ?—has the old
chancellor's daughter yet fallen a prey to our
falcon ? Has our son Frederick "
The countess' pride was again roused, and
she exclaimed:
"Our son!"
" Well, let me see, how old is he ? Twenty-
four. Why, we are old friends of twenty-six
years' standing, Elphdge."
"God knows," cried the countess, "that
my Frederick is the grand chancellor's legiti¬
mate heir."
"If God knows it," answered the mes¬
senger, jeering, " the devil may still be in
ignorance. Your Frederick is a harum-scarum
fellow, unworthy of me. Why should we
quarrel for such a trifle ? He is only good
for seducing a girl. Has he succeeded
yet?"
" Not yet, so far as I know."
" Elph^ge, you are far too passive in
all affairs relating to the count and myself,
which are certainly active enough now.
78
HAN OF ICELAND
To-morrow I return to your husband. Do
not confine yourself simply to prayers for
pardon of our sins, as the Italians invoke
the Madonna previous to committing a
murder. I expect a far greater reward
from d' Ahlefeld than he has hitherto
bestowed upon me. My fortune is linked
with yours, but I am tired of being the
husband's servant, when I am the wife's
lover, and of being nothing but governor,
preceptor and pedagogue, when I am almost
father."
The clock struck the midnight hour, and
one of the attendants entered, reminding the
countess that, according to the rules of the
palace, all lights should be extinguished at
that time. The countess, only too delighted
to bring this painful interview to an end,
summoned her attendants.
"May I be allowed, noble countess," said
Musdcemon, retiring, " to have the honor of
seeing you to-morrow, to pay my most respect¬
ful homage?"
VIII.
It cannot be but thou hast murdered him,
So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim.
Midsummer Nighfs Dream, Act III., Scene 2.
Shakespeare.
"Old man, with all due deference," said
Ordener to Spiagudry, "I began to think
that the bodies lodged in this building were
charged to open the door."
" Pardon me, my lord," replied the guard¬
ian, the words king and viceroy still ringing
in his ears and making his usual trifling excuse,
" I—I was sleeping heavily."
" In that case it is evident your corpses do
not sleep, for I distinctly heard them talking
just now."
Spiagudry was confused.
"Then, sir stranger, you overheard?"
" Good heavens ! well, yes j but what can
it matter ? I have not come here about your
affairs, but concerning my own. Let us go
in."
Spiagudry was by no means anxious the
new-comer should see the state of Gill's body;
79
8o
HAN OF ICELAND
but the last words reassured him, and besides,
how could he help himself?
He therefore allowed the young man to
enter, and closed the door.
"Benignus Spiagudry," he said, "is at
your service for all that concerns human
science. If, judging from your late visit, you
believe you are addressing yourself to a sor¬
cerer, you are in error; ne faman credas; I
am only a scholar. Let us enter, sir stranger,
to my laboratory."
"Not so," said Ordener; "I wish to
remain on account of these bodies."
"Of these bodies!" exclaimed Spiagudry,
trembling. " My lord, you cannot see them."
" What! do you mean to say that I cannot
see the bodies which are exposed there for
public inspection? Must I repeat that I
require you to give me some information
respecting one or the other ? Your duty is to
answer. Obey me with a good grace, old
man, or you obey me by force."
Spiagudry held sabres in profound respect,
and he saw the glitter of one at Ordener's side.
"Nihil non arrogat armis," muttered he.
Taking up his keys, he opened the low grating,
and introduced the stranger into the inner
division of the room.
"Show me the captain's clothes," said the
latter.
HAN OF ICELAND
8l
At this moment the light fell on Gill Stadt's
mutilated remains.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Ordener;
"what horrible profanation !"
"Great Saint Hospice, have pity on me,"
murmured the old guardian.
" Old man," continued Ordener, in threat¬
ening tones, " is death so far off that you dare
to disrespect its sanctity ? Are you not afraid,
you wretched creature, lest the living should
teach you how to honor the dead?"
"Oh!" cried the poor guardian, "have
mercy; it was not I—if you only knew ..."
He suddenly stopped, for he remembered the
little man's words: " Be faithful and silent."
" Did you ever see any one leave by this out¬
let ?'' he inquired, in a faint voice.
"Yes; was it your accomplice?"
" No; it was the criminal himself—the only
guilty party. I swear it by all the powers of
hell, by all the blessings of Heaven, by this
corpse that has been so shamefully profaned,"
said he, throwing himself on the stones before
Ordener.
Hideous as Spiagudry was, there was an
accent of truth in his despairing protestations
which convinced the young man.
" Old man," said he, "arise. If you have
not outraged the dead, do not debase you^
old age."
82
Han of iceland
The guardian arose, Ordener continued:
"Who is the criminal?"
"Oh! silence, noble sir; you are ignorant
of whom you are speaking. Silence!"
And Spiagudry inwardly repeated, "Be
faithful and silent."
Ordener repeated coldly:
"Who is the criminal? I will know his
name."
" In the name of Heaven, my lord, do not
say so. Be quiet, for fear of ..."
"Fear shall not silence me, but it shall
make you speak."
" Excuse me, pardon me, my young mas¬
ter," cried the distracted Spiagudry, "I
cannot."
"You can, and you shall name the muti¬
lator."
Spiagudry tried to evade the question.
" Noble sir, the mutilator of that corpse is
the officer's murderer."
"The officer then was murdered?" asked
Ordener, recalled by this speech to the object
of his researches.
"Yes, without doubt, my lord."
" And by whom, by whom ?"
" By the saint that your mother invoked at
your birth, do not seek to learn his name,
my young master, and force me not to reveal
it."
HAN OF ICELAND
83
" If anything could increase the interest I
have in knowing it, you have certainly added
to it. I command you to give up the name
of the murderer."
"Well, then, look at the appearance of the
unfortunate corpse. You will see how the
flesh has been torn by long and sharp claws,"
said Spiagudry. " These should tell you the
murderer's name.''
And the old man showed to Ordener the
severe and jagged wounds made upon the
nude corpse.
"Do you mean," said Ordener, "that he
tvas attacked by some wild beast?"
" No, my young lord."
"But, unless it was the devil . . ."
" Hush! lest you should guess rightly.
Have you never heard," continued the guard¬
ian, in a low tone, "of a man, or rather,
monster, with a human face, whose nails are
as long as those of Astaroth, the cause of our
downfall, or of the Antichrist, who in the
future will be so?"
" Speak more clearly."
" ' Woe be !' says the Scripture . . ."
" I am asking you for the murderer's name."
"The murderer—the name—my lord—
have pity upon me, have pity on yourself."
" Your last prayer would prevent my heed¬
ing the first, even if I were not actuated by
84
HAN OF ICELAND
far graver reasons in forcing you to give up
this name. Do not overtax my patience."
"As you insist upon it, young man," said
Spiagudry, drawing himself together, " this
murderer, this mutilator, is Han of Iceland."
This much-dreaded name was not unknown
to Ordener.
"What!" he exclaimed, "Han, the exe¬
crable bandit ?''
" Do not call him a bandit, for he always
lives alone."
" Ah 1 miserable wretch, how is it you know
him? What crimes have been the link
between you ?''
" Oh, noble master, do not judge by appear¬
ances. Is the trunk of the oak poisoned
because it sometimes shelters the serpent?"
"No more idle words I the friend of a
villain is always his accomplice.''
" I am not his friend, and far less his accom¬
plice. If the oaths I have sworn have failed
to convince you, pray consider what this infa¬
mous mutilation entails upon me in the next
twenty-four hours, when they come to remove
Gill Stadt's body. I shall be accused of sacri¬
lege, and pass the most fearful time an inno¬
cent man ever had to undergo.''
These personal considerations had far more
weight upon Ordener than the poor guardian's
supplications, who had probably been guided
HAN OF ICELAND
85
by the former feeling when making a resist¬
ance to the little man's sacrilegious onslaught.
During the moment Ordener was considering,
Spiagudry watched his face most anxiously for
the signs of peace or war.
At last he said, in a severe but calm tone,
" Old man, be truthful. Did you find any
papers on that officer ?''
"None, on my honor."
" Do you know if Han of Iceland found
any?"
" I swear to you by Saint Hospice that I am
ignorant of the fact."
"You know nothing about it? Can you
tell me where Han hides himself?"
" He never hides—he is always wandering."
" That may be; but where are his haunts ?"
" The pagan," replied the old man in a low
tone, "has as many haunts as the Island of
Hitteran has reefs, or the star Sirius has rays."
"Again I must urge you," interrupted
Ordener, " to speak more positively. I will
show you the example; listen to me. You are
linked in some mysterious way with this
brigand, if, as you maintain, you are not the
accomplice. If you know him, you must be
aware where he is to be found. Do not inter¬
rupt me; if you are not his accomplice, you
will not hesitate to guide me in my researches
for him."
86
HAN OF ICELAND
Spiagudry could not conceal his terror.
" You, my noble lord—you, great heavens!
so full of youth and life, will you provoke and
seek out this fiend ? When Ingiald with the
four arms fought the giant Nyctolm, at least
he had four arms."
"Well," said Ordener, smiling, "if four
arms are necessary, will you not then be my
guide?"
" I, your guide ? How can you jeer a poor
old man, who has need of a guide himself?"
"Listen," continued Ordener, "and do
not try to deceive me. If this profanation, of
which I am willing to believe you innocent,
exposes you to the penalty for sacrilege, you
cannot remain here; you must fly. I offer
you my protection, on condition that you
show me the brigand's retreat. Be my guide,
and I will be your guardian. I will even say
more: if Han of Iceland comes within my
reach, I will bring him back dead or alive.
You can then prove your innocence, and
I promise you shall be restored to your
position. Meanwhile, here are more royal
ecus than he will bring in a year."
Ordener, by keeping the purse to the last,
had maintained in his arguments the various
gradations according to the principles of
logic. This reasoning had great weight with
Spiagudry. He began by taking the money.
HAN OF ICELAND
"Noble master, you are right," said he,
looking for the first time full at Ordener.
"If I follow you, I expose myself to the
vengeance of the formidable Han. If I
remain here, to-morrow I shall be handed
over to Orugix, the executioner. What is the
penalty for sacrilege ? Not that it matters. In
either case, my wretched life is in peril j but
according to wise remarks of Saemond-Sig-
fusson's, otherwise termed the sage, ^ inter duo
pericula cequalia, minus imminens eligendum
est,^ I will follow you. Yes, my lord, I will
be your guide. Pray do not forget that I have
done my utmost to dissuade you from this
adventure."
"Very well," said Ordener. "You are,
then, my guide;" adding, with a piercing
look, " I reckon upon your fidelity."
"Ah, master," replied the guardian,
" Spiagudry's faith is as pure as the gold you
have just given me so graciously.''
"It could not be otherwise. I will prove to
you that my steel is quite as pure as my gold.
Where do you think Han of Iceland can be ?"
"As the south of the Drontheimhus is filled
with troops, sent there at the grand chancel¬
lor's expressed request, Han has doubtless
made his way either to the grotto Walderhog
or to lake Smiasen. We must take the road
through Skongen."
88
HAN OF ICELAND
" When can you follow me?"
"After the day which is just beginning;
when night is near and the Spladgest is
closed, your humble servant will be ready to
enter upon his duties as guide, and the dead
will thus be deprived of his care. I shall
take precautions to-day to conceal from all
the mutilation of the miner's corpse."
" Where shall I find you this evening?"
" In the grand square of Drontheim, near
the statue of Justice, formerly styled Freya,
beneath whose shades I shall doubtless find
protection, if only from gratitude for the
handsome devil I had sculptured at its
base."
Spiagudry was about to give a verbal report
of his petition to the governor, when Ordener
interrupted him:
"That is quite sufficient, old man. Our
compact is agreed."
" Yes, it is agreed," repeated the guardian.
He had just spoken this word when a dis¬
tinct growl was heard overhead. The keeper
trembled.
" What's that ?" said he.
"Are there any other living beings here
besides ourselves?" Ordener inquired, equally
surprised.
" You remind me of my assistant, Oglypig-
lap," replied Spiagudry, reassured by this
HAN OF ICELAND
89
idea. "He is no doubt snoring. ' A Lapp
sleeping,' says Bishop Arngrin, ' makes as
much noise as a woman when awake.' "
While thus talking, they reached the door
of the Spladgest. Spiagudry opened it
quietly.
" Farewell, my young master. May Heaven
help you until this evening. Should you
be near the cross of Saint Hospice, deign to
offer up a prayer for your wretched servant,
Benignus Spiagudry."
Hastily closing the door, as much from the
fear of being seen as to protect the lamp from
the morning breeze, he turned his attention
to Gill's corpse and shifted the head to a
position which helped to conceal the mutila¬
tion.
Many reasons had actuated the timid
guardian in accepting the stranger's adven¬
turous offer. I. The fear of Ordener himself.
II. The dread of the executioner, Orugix.
III. Hatred of Han of Iceland—a feeling he
was terrified at even owning to himself. IV. A
love of science, the knowledge of which
would be increased by this journey. V. Con¬
fidence in his own cunning, shielding him
from Han's vengeance. VI. A special inter¬
est in certain metal to be found in the young
adventurer's purse, and evidently also in the
iron casket stolen from the captain, and
90
HAN OF ICELAND
destined for Widow Stadt, which now ran
the risk of never leaving the messenger's
hands.
And lastly, he entertained the hope of being
sooner or later re-established in the position
he was about to abandon. What mattered
it to him if the brigand killed the traveler,
or the latter killed the brigand? At this
point in his reverie he could not help saying
aloud:
" Besides, in any case, I shall be the gainer
of one corpse."
Another growl was heard, which made the
miserable guardian shake with fright.
"That is certainly not Oglypiglap snor¬
ing," said he to himself. " That noise comes
from outside."
Then, after a moment of reflection :
" But how foolish I am to be nervous j it
is only some dog who has just wakened and is
barking on the quay."
He then finished arranging Gill's body,
and, after closing all doors, he sought his
own pallet, to repose from the fatigues of the
night, and to strengthen himself for those to
come.
IX.
Juliet.—O, think'st thou we shall ever meet
again?
Romeo.—I doubt it not; and all these woes
shall serve
For sweet discourses in our time to come.
Romeo and Juliet, Act III., Scene 5.
Shakespeare.
Munckholm Castle beacon had just gone
out, and in its place the sailor entering Dron-
theim Gulf could see the sentinel's helmet
shining from the distance in the rays of the
sun like a fixed star, when Schumacher, lean¬
ing on his daughter's arm, came down,
according to his usual custom, in the garden
surrounding the prison. Both had passed
restless nights—the old man from sleepless¬
ness, the young girl from delightful dreams.
They walked in silence for some time, the old
captive watching his daughter with a grave
and mournful look.
"You blush and smile to yourself, Ethel.
You are happy; for you have nothing to blush
at in the past, and you can smile at the future."
91
92
HAN OF ICELAND
Ethel flushed deeply, and ceased to smile.
" My lord and father," said she, greatly con¬
fused, " I have brought your book, the Edda."
"Very well, child; then read it to me,"
said Schumacher, relapsing into reverie.
Then the mournful captive, seated on a
rock beneath the shade of a black fir, listened
to the young girl's sweet voice without taking
in the sense of reading, as the thirsty traveler
listens to the murmuring of the brook which
means life to him.
Ethel read the story of the shepherdess
Allanga, who refused to accept a king's offer
until he had proved himself to be a warrior.
Prince Regner Lodbrog, having vanquished
the brigand of Klipstadiu:, Ingulphus the
Exterminator, claimed the hand of the
shepherdess.
Suddenly there came the sound of footsteps
on the fallen leaves, interrupting the reader,
and arousing Schumacher from his reverie.
Lieutenant d'Ahlefeld made his appearance
before them. Ethel bent down her head on
recognizing her continual visitor, and the
officer spoke:
" Upon my word, beautiful lady, the name
of Ingulphus the Exterminator pronounced by
your charming lips ! I heard it and I suppose
you were speaking of his grandson, Han of
Iceland—that recalled him to your memory ?
HAN OF ICELAND
93
Young ladies have a fancy for speaking about
brigands. Many agreeable stories, and some
terrible ones, are related of Ingulphus and
his descendants. The Exterminator had one
son, born of the witch Thoarka; this heir
also had an only son, the child of a sorceress.
During four centuries this race has been the
desolation of Iceland, always by a single trunk
of the family tree existing and which never
produces any branches. It is by these solitary
heirs that the infernal spirit of Ingulphus has
come down in all its entirety to the famous
Han of Iceland, who has just now been happy
enough to occupy your maiden thoughts."
The officer paused for a moment. Ethel
was silent, from embarrassment, Schumacker
from weariness. Delighted to find them dis¬
posed to listen, if not to talk, he continued:
" The brigand of Klipstadur has but one
passion—hatred of mankind; no desire but
to injure them—"
"He is wise," interrupted the old man,
harshly.
" He lives always alone."
" He is happy," said Schumacker.
The young lieutenant was glad of this double
interruption, which gave him a link for further
conversation.
" May the god Mithra preserve us," cried
he, " from being such wise and happy men.
94
HAN OF ICELAND
Accursed be the ill-omened wind that brought
the last of the demons of Iceland to Norway.
I ought not to say ill-omened, for they say it is
owing to a bishop that we have the felicity of
possessing Han of Klipstadur. According to
tradition, some Iceland peasants found Han,
then a child, wandering in the mountains of
Bessesledt. They were about to kill him, as
Astyager killed the lion cub of Bactriana, but
the good bishop interceded on his behalf, and
took the cub under his protection, hoping to
make a Christian of the devil. The good
bishop made every effort to develop his dia¬
bolical intellect, forgetting that the hemlock
in the hot-house of Babylon never changed
into the lily. This imp of darkness repaid all
his care by taking flight one fine night across
the sea, in the trunk of a tree, previously set¬
ting fire to the episcopal manor to lighten up
the way. According to the old women's tales,
this is the way the Icelander reached Norway,
and he offers the most complete type of a
monster, with all the benefits of a good educa¬
tion. Since then the Faroe mines have fallen
in, burying three hundred workmen beneath
the ruins; the projecting rock Golyn fell on
a village; the bridge at Half-Broen, the height
of the cliffs, gave way with all its passengers;
Drontheim cathedral has been burnt down;
the beacons on the coast were extinguished
HAN OF ICELAND
95
during a stormy night; lakes Sparbo and
Smiasen could tell a tale of crimes and murder,
besides those committed in the grottoes of
Walderhog and Rylass or in Dovre-Field
ravines, proving only too well the presence of
this incarnate Arimanes in the Drontheimhus.
Old women relate, that with every crime a
fresh hair shoots forth in his beard. It should
now be bushy enough for the most venerable
of Assyrian magicians. The fair lady doubt¬
less knows that the governor has more than
once endeavored to stop the extraordinary
growth of this beard—"
Schumacker again broke silence.
" And all attempts to take this man have
been in vain?" said he, with a look of
triumph and an ironical smile. " I must con¬
gratulate the grand chancellor.''
The officer did not understand the ex-grand
chancellor's.sarcasm.
" Han, up to this time, has remained as
impregnable as Horatius, surnamed Codes.
Old soldiers, young militiamen, countrymen,
mountaineers—all die or fly before him. He
is a demon you can neither compass nor avoid;
and the most fortunate thing for those in
search of this man is not to find him."
" Charming lady," he continued, seating
himself familiarly near Ethel, who drew closer
to her father, " you are doubtless surprised at
96
HAN OF ICELAND
the knowledge I possess concerning this super¬
natural being. I have a purpose in gathering
together these singular traditions. I shall
be delighted if iny fair listener is of
the same mind as myself—that Han's
adventures would make a most thrilling
romance, after the style of Mademoiselle de
Scud6ry's delightful works, such as Arta-
menes or Clelie, of which I have only
read six volumes, none the less a chef-
d'oeuvre in my eyes. One must soften down
our climate, embellish our traditions, and
modify our barbarous names. Thus Dron-
theim would become Durtinianum ; its forests
would change, beneath my magic wand, into
most delicious groves, watered by many a
little rivulet, much more poetical than our
ugly torrents. Our deep and gloomy caverns
should be made into charming grottoes, lined
with gilded rockwork and azure shells. One
of these grottoes should be inhabited by the
famous enchanter, Hannus of Thule, for you
must allow that the name of Han of Iceland
is not pleasing to the ear. This giant—it
would be absurd for the hero of such a work
to be anything but a giant—whose descent
traces in direct line from the god Mars—
Ingulphus the Exterminator presents noth¬
ing to the imagination—and the sorceress
Theone—have I not well altered the name of
HAN OF ICELAND
97
Thoarka ?—daughter of the Sybil of Cuma.
Hannus, after being brought up by the great
magician of Thule, would escape from the
pontiflTs palace on a chariot drawn by two
dragons. It would show but a poor imagina¬
tion to keep up the paltry tradition—the trunk
of a tree. Arrived at Durtinianum, charmed
by its sunny clime, he makes it his place of
residence, and the theatre of his crimes. It
would be somewhat of a difficult task to draw
a pleasing picture of Han's depredations. An
imaginary love scene might soften down their
many horrors. The shepherdess Alcippe,
walking with her lamb through the myrtle
and olive groves, should be perceived by the
giant, who falls in love with her. Alcippe's
heart is given to the handsome Lycidas, a
militia officer quartered in the village. This
giant is enraged at the soldier's good fortune,
and the soldier resents the giant's attentions.
You can imagihe, fair lady, the charm that
could be given to such adventures as those of
Hannus. I will bet my pair of Cracovian
boots against a pair of skates, that, with such
a subject. Mademoiselle de Scud6ry would
write a romance that would thrill with ecstasy
all the ladies of Copenhagen."
This word aroused Schumacher from his
gloomy reverie, regardless of the lieutenant's
ineffectual efforts to amuse him.
98
HAN OF ICELAND
"Copenhagen?" said he; "is there any
fresh news from there, lieutenant ?' *
" Nothing that I am aware of, unless it be
the king's consent to this important marriage,
which occupies the mind of all connected
with both kingdoms."
"What do you mean?" returned Schu-
macker; " what marriage?"
The appearance of a fourth person arrested
the lieutenant's reply.
All three raised their eyes. The prisoner's
face brightened up, the lieutenant's changed
from gay to grave, Ethel's sweet expressive
countenance, looking pale and confused
during the officer's lengthy soliloquy, was
now suffused with life and happiness. She
gave a deep sigh of relief, with a quick, sad
smile at the new-comer—Ordener.
The old man, the young girl, and the
officer were singularly placed with regard to
Ordener—each one shared a secret in com¬
mon with him which caused them mutual
embarrassment. The return of Ordener to
the donjon surprised neither Schumacher nor
Ethel, for they expected him, but the lieuten¬
ant was as much astonished at seeing Ordener
as the latter was at his presence. The new¬
comer would have doubted the officer's dis¬
cretion regarding the scene on the previous
evening had the laws of honor been less
HAN OF ICELAND
99
Strict on the subject. He was, nevertheless,
surprised at seeing him quietly seated near the
two prisoners.
These four persons could say nothing to
each other on meeting, for the very reason
that they had much to say to each other in
secret. Thus amid glances of delight and
embarrassment Ordener was received in
silence.
The lieutenant burst into laughter.
" By the train of the royal robe, my dear
new-comer, this silence much resembles that
of the Senate of Gaul, when the Roman
Brennus—I really forget, upon my honor,
whether they were Roman or Gauls, senators or
the generals. Never mind ! As you are here,
help me in giving this honorable old gentle¬
man the news of the day. When you appeared
on the scene I was about telling him of this
illustrious marriage which now fills the minds
of the Medes and Persians."
" What marriage?" exclaimed both Ordener
and Schumacker.
" By the cut of your clothes, sir stranger,"
cried the lieutenant, clapping his hands, " I
thought you came from some other world.
This question changes a suspicion into a
certainty. You landed yesterday, I suppose,
on the banks of the Nidder, from a fairy
chariot, drawn by two winged griffins. You
lOO
HAN OF ICELAND
could not have traveled in Norway without
hearing of the celebrated marriage about
taking place between the viceroy's son and
the grand chancellor's daughter."
Schuinacker turned towards the lieutenant:
"What! Ordener Guldenlew going to
marry Ulrica d'Ahlefeld ?"
" As you have said," answered the lieuten¬
ant; "the wedding will take place here
before French farthingales have gone out of
fashion at Copenhagen."
" Frederick's son must be twenty-two, for I
had been stationed a year in the fortress at
Copenhagen when the news of his birth reached
me. He marries young," continued Schu¬
macher, with a bitter smile. " When the time
of his disgrace arrives, they cannot accuse
him of trying for a cardinal's hat."
The old favorite made an allusion to his
own misfortunes that the lieutenant did not
understand.
"No, indeed," said the officer, laughing.
"Baron Ordener is to receive the title of
count, the collar of the Order of the Ele¬
phant, and the rank of colonel, which would
hardly go well with a cardinal's hat.''
" So much the better," replied Schumacher,
giving his head an ominous shake, as though
he saw vengeance of his wrongs in the union:
"gome day they will turn his collar of nobility
HAN OF ICELAND
lOI
into an iron one, they will shatter his count's
coronet on his forehead, and strike him on the
face with his colonel's epaulettes."
Ordener seized the old man's hand.
" Even in your hatred, my lord, lay not a
curse on your enemy's happiness before you
know whether he looks upon it as such.''
"How now," said the lieutenant, "what
can the Baron of Thorwick care for this old
fellow's curses?"
" Lieutenant," exclaimed Ordener, "they
carry more weight than you think,—perhaps,—
and," continued he after a moment of silence,
" your famous marriage, it is not so certain as
you seem to believe."
"Fiat quod vis," replied the lieutenant,
with a sarcastic bow; " the king, the viceroy,
and the grand chancellor have certainly
arranged this union ; they wish it, and more¬
over command it shall be so. But as it does
not meet with your approval, sir stranger, what
matters about the grand chancellor, the vice¬
roy, and the king ?"
"You are perhaps right," said Ordener,
gravely.
" On my honor," and the lieutenant laughed
immoderately,—" this is too good a joke. I
wish the Baron of Thorwick were present to
hear one so well versed in the world's doings
regulating his fate. My learned prophet.
I02
HAN OF ICELAND
believe me, you have not enough beard to be
a good sorcerer.''
"Sir lieutenant," replied Ordener, coldly,
" I do not think that Ordener Guldenlew
would marry any woman without loving her."
" Oh ! oh ! Listen to the book of maxims.
And who tells you. Knight of the Green
Mantle, that the baron does not love Ulrica
d'Ahlefeld ?"
" And, pray, who told you he does love
her?"
Here the lieutenant, carried away by the
heat of the argument as happened to him,
asserted a fact of which he was by no means
sure.
"Who says that he loves her? Your ques¬
tion is somewhat amusing. I am sorry for
your powers of divination, but everybody
knows this marriage is at least, as much one
of inclination as much as of policy."
" Myself excepted," said Ordener, gravely.
'' Yourself excepted. What can that matter ?
You cannot prevent the viceroy's son from
being in love with the chancellor's daughter."
"In love?"
" Madly in love."
" He would indeed be mad to be in love
with her."
" Hold 1 do not forget to whom, and of
whom you are speaking. Do not tell us that
HAN OF ICELAND
103
the viceroy's son could not be infatuated with
a lady without consulting a boor like your¬
self."
While thus speaking, the lieutenant hastily
rose. Ethel, who saw Ordener's eyes flash,
rushed before him.
" Oh, pray calm yourself," said she; " take
no heed of his insults. What can it matter to
us if the viceroy's son love the chancellor's
daughter ?''
The touch of her gentle hand calmed the
tempest in the young man's breast. He
glanced at Ethel with a passionate longing,
heedless of the lieutenant's words, who recover¬
ing his gayety, exclaimed:
" The lady would fill with infinite grace the
part of one of the Sabine matrons, interpos¬
ing between their fathers and their husbands.
I have not measured my words," said he,
addressing himself to Ordener ; " I forgot the
link that binds us, forbidding us to provoke
each other. Chevalier, give me your hand;
but you must allow that you also must have
forgotten that you were speaking of the
viceroy's son to his future brother-in-law.
Lieutenant d'Ahlefeld."
At this name Schumacker, who had been
indifferent to all that was passing, leaped from
the stone bench on which he was seated, with
a terrible cry.
I04
HAN OF ICELAND
" D'Ahlefeld! a d'Ahlefeld before me.
Serpent, how was it that I did not trace the
execrable father in the son ? Leave me at
peace in my dungeon ; I was not condemned
to have you before my eyes. There is noth¬
ing wanting now but to see Guldenlew's son
standing side by side with d'Ahlefeld's son.
Traitors ! cowards ! let them come to rejoice
at my tears and my madness. Accursed race !
son of d'Ahlefeld ! leave me."
The officer, for the moment overwhelmed
by this torrent of imprecations, soon recovered
his powers of speech.
" Silence ! you old madman. Have you
finished singing your fiendish litanies?"
"Leave me, leave me, I say," continued
the old man; " take my curse with you, and
may it follow that miserable race of Gulden-
lew, which is soon to be allied to yours."
" By Heaven !" cried the enraged officer;
" this is a double insult."
Ordener interfered, as the lieutenant was
beside himself.
" Respect old age, even in your enemy,
lieutenant. We have a debt to settle; I will
take the prisoner's insults upon myself, and
give you satisfaction."
"Very well, you must answer for a double
share; the combat shall be a mortal one, for
I have to avenge my brother-in-law as well as
HAN OF ICELAND
myself. When you take up my gauntlet, you
also hold that of Ordener Guldenlew."
" Lieutenant d'Ahlefeld," replied Ordener,
"you warmly defend the absent, a proof of
your generosity. Will you not prove it by
taking pity on this unfortunate old man, whose
adversities give him some right to be unjust?"
D'Ahlefeld was one of those people whose
best qualities are brought forward by praise.
He shook Ordener by the hand, and
approached Schumacker, who, exhausted by
his temper, had sunk on the rock, supported
by the arms of the weeping Ethel.
"Lord Schumacker," said the officer,
"you have abused your old age, and I was
taking advantage of my youth, if a champion
had not interfered on your behalf. I came to
pay my last visit to your prison. According
to the viceroy's orders, the guard is to be
withdrawn, and you are free to wander
throughout the tower. I trust you will
receive this good news graciously, although it
comes from the lips of an enemy."
" Leave me," said the old captive, in a low
voice.
The lieutenant bowed and obeyed, inwardly
satisfied with himself by having gained
Ordener's approving glance.
Schumacker remained some time with his
arms folded, and his head bent down, buried
io6
HAN OF ICELAND
in his thoughts. Suddenly he raised his eyes
and fixed them on Ordener, who stood
silently before him.
" Well," said he.
" My lord, Captain Dispolsen has been
murdered.''
The old man's head fell forward.
" His murderer is the famous brigand, Han
of Iceland.''
"Han of Iceland!" exclaimed Schu¬
macher.
" Han of Iceland !" repeated Ethel.
" It was he who also robbed the captain,"
pursued Ordener.
"Then," said the captive, "you have
heard nothing about an iron casket, stamped
with the Griffenfeld arms?"
" No, my lord."
Schumacher buried his head in his hands.
" I will restore them to you, my lord count,
you may rely upon it. The murder was com¬
mitted yesterday morning. Han has fled to
the north, and I have a guide who knows his
haunts. I am well acquainted with the
Drontheimhus mountains. I shall find the
brigand."
Ethel turned pale. Schumacher rose, a
joyful look on his face, glad indeed to find
that virtue was still to be met with.
" Noble Ordener," said he, " farewell."
HAN OF ICELAND
107
And raising a hand towards heaven he left
them, and was soon lost to view in the shrub¬
beries.
Ordener quickly perceived Ethel seated on
a rock overgrown with moss, looking as white
as an alabaster statue mounted on a black
pedestal.
"Great Heaven! my Ethel!" said he,
rushing toward her, and clasping her in his
arms, "what is the matter?"
" Oh !" answered the trembling girl, almost
inaudibly, " if you have no love for me, at
least have some pity. If your words yesterday
were simply meant to deceive me, if it is not
to cause my death that you have come to this
prison, my Lord Ordener—in the name of
Heaven and all the angels, renounce this mad
design. Ordener! my well-beloved Orde¬
ner !'' continued she, between her tears, and
resting her head on the young man's shoulder,
"make this sacrifice for me. Do not go in
pursuit of this brigand, this fearful demon, to
force him to mortal combat. For whom are
you about to risk yourself? Whose interests
can be dearer to you than those of her who
but yesterday you called your much-loved
wife?"
She ceased, choked by her sobs. Her arms
were clasped round Ordener's neck, and her
pleading eyes were fixed on his.
Io8 HAN OF ICELAND
" My adored Ethel, you alarm yourself
unnecessarily. Heaven will defend the right,
and it is in your interest that I am about to
take the risk. That iron casket contains—"
Ethel interrupted him.
" My interest! Have I any other interest
than your life ? If you die, Ordener, what is
to become of me?"
"Why imagine I shall die, Ethel?"
" Ah! but you do not know what this fiend¬
ish brigand Han is. Do you realize the kind
of monster you are about to pursue ? Have
you not heard that he is in league with the
powers of darkness ? that he can hurl moun¬
tains on villages ? that his footsteps cause sub¬
terraneous caverns to fall in ? that his breath
extinguishes the beacons on the rocks ? And
do you believe, Ordener, that you are a match
for this giant, who has the devil to help him ?
—you, with your white hands, and your slender
sword ?''
"And your prayers, Ethel; and, strength¬
ened by the feeling that I am fighting for your
sake, will help me conquer. Be reassured, my
Ethel, this brigand's strength and influence
have been greatly exaggerated. He is a man
like ourselves—who gives death until he
receives it."
" You will not then listen to me ? Mine
are but idle words. What is to become of me
HAN OF ICELAND
if you leave me to run from one danger to
another, exposing, for I know not what
interest, your life, which belongs to me, and
placing yourself within reach of this mon¬
ster?"
Here Ethel pictured to herself anew the
horrors of the lieutenant's recital, now height¬
ened by love and fear. She continued, in a
voice broken by her sobs:
" I assure you, my dear love, you have been
deceived as to the nature of this monster by
those who say he is but a man. Believe what
I tell you, Ordener, before any words of theirs.
A thousand efforts have been made to over¬
come him, and he has destroyed entire regi¬
ments. I wish you could hear the same from
others; you might then be induced to abandon
this idea."
Poor Ethel would have succeeded in her
prayers had Ordener been less advanced in
this adventure, strengthened by Schumacher's
despairing words which came to his memory
and strengthened his resolution.
" I could tell you, my dear Ethel, that I
would not go, and none the less carry out my
project; but I will not deceive you, even to
quiet your fears. I ought not to hesitate
between your tears and your interests. Your
fortune, your happiness, even your life perhaps
is in jeopardy, your life ! my Ethel!"
no
HAN OF ICELAND
And he pressed her tenderly in his arms.
"What is all that to me?" replied she,
despairingly. " My Ordener, are you not my
life ? Pray do not bring certain and fearful
misfortune upon me, to ward off slight and
even doubtful ones. What matters my fortune,
my life?"
" Ethel, the life of your father is also at
stake."
She tore herself from his arms.
" My father's life!" she murmured, as pale
as death.
"Yes, Ethel. This brigand, doubtless
urged on by Count Griffenfeld's enemies, has
obtained possession of certain papers, the loss
of which may compromise your father, and
lead to his destruction. I must have these
documents, and with them his life."
Ethel remained silent for a few moments;
her face was pale, her tears had dried up,
and her bosom heaved painfully. Her eyes
had the same look of apathy a criminal
evinces when the axe is ready to fall on his
head.
" Of my father," she murmured.
Then she turned her eyes slowly toward
Ordener.
" Your work is useless, but continue with
it."
Ordener drew her to him.
HAN OF ICELAND
III
" Oh, noble-hearted girl, let your heart beat
against mine. Generous friend, I will soon
return. You shall be mine. I wish to save
your father, and thus prove myself worthy to
be his son. My Ethel, my well-beloved
Ethel!"
How depict the feelings of one generous
heart when brought in contact with another.
If love unites the souls in life-long bonds,
who can paint their inexpressible delight?
They experience in one short moment all the
happiness and glory of existence, embellished
by the charm of a generous sacrifice.
"Oh, my Ordener, go; and if you never
return, grief without hope kills, I shall have
that melancholy consolation."
They both rose, and Ordener drawing
Ethel's arm within his own, clasped her hand,
and led her through the winding paths of
the garden until they lothfully reached the
outer gate. The girl then cut off a tress of
her beautiful black hair with a pair of golden
scissors.
" Take it, Ordener; this will ever be with
you, happier than I."
Ordener pressed his lips upon his loved
one's gift.
She continued:
" Think of me, Ordener. I will pray for
you. My prayers may perhaps have as great
112
HAN OF ICELAND
weight with the Almighty as your weapons
against the demon."
Ordener bent before this angel. His heart
was too full for utterance. For a few moments
they remained clasped in each other's arms.
When parting, perhaps forever, Ordener had
the melancholy satisfaction of holding Ethel
once more in his arms. He fondly pressed
a kiss on the young girl's pale brow, and
rushed under the vault of the spiral staircase,
which echoed the sound of her last word to
him, at once so sad and so sweet: '' Farewell! *'
X.
Yon would not believe her unhappy, for every¬
thing about her speaks of happiness. She wears
golden necklaces and purple robes. When she
walks abroad, crowds of vassals prostrate them¬
selves in her path, and kneeling pages spread
carpets before her. But none see her in her
favorite retreat; for there she may weep and
her husband cannot hear her—I am this wretched
being, the wife of an honored man, of a noble
count, the mother of a child whose smiles stab
me. Maturin—Bertram.
The Countess d'Ahlefeld's ever restless
spirit passed a sleepless night. She was
reclining on a couch buried in thoughts of
the past, wherein crime had brought no real
happiness, and sorrow had found no consola¬
tion. She was thinking of Musdcemon, whom
her guilty illusion had formerly pictured so
alluring. Now that she could read into his
very soul, he was hateful to her. She,
wretched woman, wept, not because she had
been deceived, but from her inability to do so
any longer. With her regret had no repent¬
ance, therefore tears were no relief. At this
moment the door was thrown open, much to
"3
114
HAN OF ICELAND
her surprise, for she had forbidden any intru¬
sion. She hastily dried the tears from her
eyes, and looked up angrily at Musdoemon,
whose reappearance gave her a shock, which
was only modified by seeing that he was
accompanied by her son Frederick.
" Mother," exclaimed the lieutenant, " how
is it that you are here ? I thought you were
at Berghen. Has it become the custom for
high-born ladies to fly about the country?"
The countess embraced her son warmly,
but, like spoilt children, he responded coldly
to her endearments. This was perhaps the
unfortunate woman's worst punishment.
Frederick was her well-beloved son, the
only being in the world for which she retained
a pure affection; for often, in a degraded
woman, even when the wife has disappeared,
there still remains something of the mother.
"I see, my son, that on hearing of my
presence at Drontheim you hastened at once
to come to me."
" Oh, dear, no. I was bored at being in
the fort; I went to town, and there I met
Musdoemon, who brought me here."
The poor mother sighed deeply.
" For all that, mother, I am pleased to see
you. You can tell nie if knots of rose-colored
ribbon resting on the knees are still worn at
Copenhagen. Have you brought me a bottle
HAN OF ICELAND
"5
of that oil of Jouvence for whitening the skin ?
I hope you have not forgotten the last
romance which has been translated, nor the
pale gold braid, which I asked of you, for my
dark-colored doublet, nor the small combs
which are now used under the curls to keep
up the ringlets, nor ..."
The unhappy woman had brought nothing
for her son, but the only love she had in the
world.
" My dear son, I have been ill; my suflFer-
ings made me forgetful of your pleasures.''
" You have been ill, mother ? Well, but
you are better. By the way, how is my pack
of Normandy hounds? I would wager that
they have neglected to bathe my she-monkey
in rose-water every night. I expect I shall
find my Bilboa parrot dead on my return.
When I am absent, no one thinks of my
animals."
"Your mother always thinks of you, my
son," said the countess, in broken accents.
Even at the hour when the destroying
angel comes for his own, to cast the sinner
into eternal torment, he would pity such
agony as the unfortunate countess felt now.
Musdcemon turned aside to laugh.
"My Lord Frederick," said he, "I can
see that you do not intend the bright sabre to
rust in its iron scabbard. You take care not
Il6 HAN OF ICELAND
to omit, in the towers of Munckholm, the
traditions of the salons of Copenhagen. Pray
tell me, what need for the oil of Jouvence,
the rose-colored ribbon, the little combs, if
the only feminine fortress in Munckholm
Tower is impregnable ?"
" On my honor it is so," replied Frederick,
laughing. " If I have failed, General Schack
himself would have done the same. How can
you surprise a fort which is always guarded ?
What can be done against chemisettes which
show only the neck, against sleeves which
entirely cover the arm? In fact there is
nothing but the face and hands to prove that
the young woman is not as black as the
Emperor of Mauritania. Why, my dear
tutor, in this case you would be nothing but
a student. Believe me, the fort is impregna¬
ble when modesty holds the garrison."
"You are right," said Musdcemon; "but
would not modesty be forced to surrender if,
instead of the blockade of delicate attentions
one should assault by love?"
" Lost time, my friend. Love has found a
place there, but only helps to reinforce
modesty.''
" Indeed, my Lord Frederick, this is
something new. With love on your side—"
"And who told you, Musdcemon, that he
was for me?"
HAN OF ICELAND
117
"And for whom then?" exclaimed Musdoe-
mon and the countess—the latter had remained
silent until the lieutenant's words recalled
Ordener to her thoughts.
Frederick was about to give them a piquant
account of the scene on the previous night,
when the silence prescribed by the laws of
honor came to his mind; his merriment sud¬
denly turned to embarrassment.
" By my faith," said he, "I do not know.
Perhaps some boor—some vassal—"
" Some soldier of the garrison," said Mus-
doemon, with a burst of laughter.
"What, my son 1" exclaimed the countess;
"are you sure that she loves a peasant—a
vassal? How fortunate if you were right."
" No doubt about it; I am sure of it. And
it is not a soldier of the garrison," added the
lieutenant, in a tone of pique. " But I am
sure enough on this point, to ask you, mother,
to cut short my utterly useless exile in that
cursed chateau."
The countess' face had brightened on hear¬
ing this scandal, so compromising to the young
girl. Ordener Guldenlew's speedy departure
for Munckholm now wore another aspect—she
attributed it to the attraction of her son.
" Frederick, you shall presently give us a
description of Ethel Schumacher's love-pas¬
sages. I am not in the least astonished. The
ii8
HAN OF ICELAND
daughter of a rustic can fancy but a rustic.
Do not curse the castle which procured you
the honor of a visit from a certain person,
who took the first step toward making your
acquaintance."
"Whatdo you mean, mother?" asked the
lieutenant, opening his eyes; "what per¬
son?"
" A truce to your nonsense. Did not some
one visit you yesterday? You see I know
all."
"My faith, better than I do, mother. May
the devil take me if I saw any other faces
yesterday than those of the gargoyles at the
corners of the old towers."
"What, Frederick, you saw no one?"
" Not a creature, mother, on my honor."
Frederick, in omitting his opponent of the
donjon, only acted in strict accordance with
the law of silence; besides, he did not count
this rustic as anybody.
"But," said the mother, "was not the
viceroy's son at Munckholm yesterday ?"
The lieutenant laughed.
"The viceroy's son? Truly, mother, you
are dreaming, or you are joking !''
" Neither one nor the other. Who was on
guard yesterday ?''
"Myself, mother."
" And you never saw the Baron Ordener ?''
HAN or ICELAND
*' No," said the lieutenant.
" But think, my son, he could have come
incognito,—you have never seen him; as you
were brought up at Copenhagen, while he was
educated at Drontheim; remember, they say
he has all sorts of caprices and curious ideas.
Are you quite sure you saw no one ?"
Frederick hesitated for a moment.
"No," he said, "no one; and I will tell
you nothing more."
" In that case," replied the countess, " the
baron has not gone to Munckholm."
Musdoemon, as surprised as Frederick, now
listened attentively. He interrupted the
countess.
" Permit me, noble lady," said he. " My
Lord Frederick, what is, I pray you, the
name of the vassal whom Schumacher's
daughter loves ?"
He repeated his question, for Frederick
was buried in thought, and did not hear
him.
" I do not know, or rather—yes, I do not
know."
" Well, then, how do you know she loves a
vassal at all?"
" Did I say he was a vassal ? Yes, certainly,
a vassal."
The lieutenant's embarrassment increased.
This close questioning, the ideas it suggested.
I30
HAN OF ICELAND
the obligation of the imposed silence, all
threw him into a trouble that he feared he
could not master.
" My faith, sir, Musdoemon, and you, my
noble mother, if questioning is the fashion
nowadays, amuse yourselves by doing so to
each other. As for myself, I have nothing
more to tell you."
And, opening the door hurriedly, he made
his escape, leaving them in a flood of conjec¬
tures. He quickly made his exit into the
court-yard, for he heard the voice of Musdoe¬
mon recalling him.
He mounted his horse, and went toward
the harbor, intending to cross to Munckholm,
hoping to meet the stranger, who had caused
profound thought to enter for once into the
giddiest brain to be found in one of the most
frivolous of capitals.
"If it were Ordener Guldenlew," said he,
" then alas for poor Ulrica. But no; it is
impossible that he could be idiotic enough to
prefer the poverty-stricken daughter of a
State prisoner to the daughter of a wealthy
and all powerful minister. In any case, the
daughter of Schumacher may be nothing
more than a passing fancy, and there is noth¬
ing to prevent, when one has a wife, at the
same time having a mistress; that is quite the
thing. But no, it was not Ordener. The
HAN OF ICELAND
121
viceroy's son would not wear a shabby coat,
an old black feather showing signs of all
weathers, a cloak large enough to make a tent,
his hair disheveled, without combs, his boots
with iron spurs, and covered with mud and
dust. Really it could not have been he, the
Baron of Thorwick, a knight of the Order
of Dannebrog; this stranger wore no decora¬
tions J if I had the Dannebrog collar it seems
to me I should sleep in it. Besides, he never
heard of the Clilie. Oh, no; that could
not have been the viceroy's son."
XI.
If man could still retain the sprightliness of
mind after experience has enlightened it, if he
could inherit time without bending under its
weight, he would never insult exalted virtue,
whose first advice is always self-sacrifice.
Mme. de Stael—De I'AUemange.
"Well, what is it? You, Poel, what has
brought you here? "
"Your excellency forgets that you have
just ordered me to come."
"Oh, yes," said the general, "it was for
that portfolio."
Poel gave the governor the portfolio which
he could easily have reached by simply
extending his hand.
His excellency mechanically replaced the
portfolio without opening it, and then he
turned some papers abstractedly.
" Poel, I was going to ask you What
time is it?"
The clock was just under his eyes.
"Ten o'clock in the morning, sir," replied
the valet.
122
HAN OF ICELAND
123
" I was going to say, Peel What fresh
news is there in the palace?"
The general continued his inspection of the
papers, writing, with a preoccupied air, some
words on each of them.
" Nothing, your excellency, except that we
are expecting our noble master, about whom
I see the general is uneasy."
The general rose from his large desk and
gave Poel an angry look.
"You have bad eyes. I anxious about
Ordener! I know the reason of his absence;
I am not expecting him yet."
General Levin de Knud was so jealous of
his own authority that he could not tolerate
that a subordinate should divine his secret
thoughts, or even imagine Ordener had acted
without orders.
" Poel," he added, " you can go."
"By my faith," exclaimed the governor,
when he found himself alone, " Ordener
misuses his authority. The constant bending
of the blade ends by breaking it. Fancy
making me pass such a sleepless night, expos¬
ing me. General Levin, to the questions of the
chancellor's wife and to a valet's conjectures,
and all this because he wanted to embrace an
old enemy before doing so to an old friend.
Ordener, Ordener, such caprices will put an
end to your liberty. Let him come! let him
124
HAN OF ICELAND
arrive now. I vow I will greet him as the
powder does the spark. To dare to expose
the Governor of Drontheim to a valet's con¬
jectures—to the sarcasms of the chancellor's
wife, indeed! Just let him present him¬
self—"
The general continued to turn over his
papers without reading them, so bad was his
humor.
"General! my noble father!" exclaimed
a well-known voice.
Ordener put his arms round the old man,
who could not repress a cry of joy.
" Ordener, my brave boy. I am glad to
see you." Then, after a moment's reflection,
he added:
" I am pleased to know, my lord baron,
that you can so well master your feelings. You
seem delighted to see me; you punished your¬
self, no doubt, by waiting during twenty-four
hours you have been here."
" My father, you have often impressed upon
me that an unfortunate enemy should be con¬
sidered before a prosperous friend. I come
from Munckholm."
" No doubt," said the general; " when the
enemy is in imminent danger. But Schu-
macker's future ..."
"Is more threatening than ever. Noble
general, a most odious conspiracy has been
HAN OF ICELAND
125
planned against this unhappy man. Men who
were born his friends now seek to destroy him.
A man who was born his enemy will learn to
save him."
The general, whose face had gradually
softened down, interrupted Ordener:
" Good, my dear Ordener; but how can it
be possible ? Schumacher is under my safe¬
guard. What men ? what plots ?"
Ordener would have been puzzled to answer
this question. His information was uncertain,
and his ideas very vague regarding the real
position of the person for whom he was about
to risk his life. Many would blame him for
his folly; but youth's impulse is to act for
right and justice, and not to calculate the
chances. Besides, in this world, where pru¬
dence yields but barren fruits, and wisdom is
another word for irony, who can imply that
generosity is mere folly ? Everything on this
earth is relative, where all has its limits, and
virtue itself would be a species of madness if
behind there was not a God. Ordener was at
an age when youth believes and is believed.
Purely from this feeling he risked his life. The
general, actuated by the same ideas, accepted
these reasons, which would scarcely have held
good in open discussion.
"'What plots? what men?' my good
father. In a few days I shall have brought
126
HAN OF ICELAND
all to light; then I will give you every inform¬
ation I have gained. I must leave to-night."
"What!" exclaimed the old man; "can
you not spare me a few hours ? But where are
you going, and why must you go, my dear
son ?''
"You have sometimes allowed me, my
noble father, to perform a praiseworthy action
in secret."
" Yes, my brave Ordener; but you are not
at all sure of your errand ; and you know the
important matter which demands your pres'
ence here."
" My father has given me a month for
reflection, and I shall devote that time to
another's interest. Good actions engender
good resolutions; on my return you will see."
"Do you mean," replied the general,
anxiously, " this marriage is displeasing to
you? Report says Ulrica d'Ahlefeld is
beautiful. Tell me, have you seen her?"
"I believe so," said Ordener. "It seems
she is beautiful indeed."
" Well, then ?" asked the governor.
" Well," said Ordener, " she will never be
my wife."
The cold and decisive tone in which this
was said gave the general a perfect shock. The
haughty countess' suspicions recurred to his
mind.
HAN OF ICELAND
137
" Ordener," said he, shaking his head, " I
ought to know, for I have been a sinner
myself. Well, I am an old fool! Ordener!
the prisoner has a daughter ..."
"Yes," exclaimed the young man; "gen¬
eral, I wish to speak to you aboi\t her. 1
entreat, my father, your protectioi^ for this
helpless and oppressed girl." «
"Truly," said the governor grave^ "you
appeal most earnestly."
Ordener recovered himself, in a measure.
" And why should it not be so, when an
unfortunate prisoner's life is in jeopardy, and
what is far more precious—her honor."
" Life ! honor. But I am governor here,
yet I know nothing of all these horrors.
Explain yourself."
" My noble father, the lives of the prisoner
and his daughter, defenseless as they both are,
are threatened by an infamous plot."
"You are making a grave charge; what
proof have you ?''
" The eldest son of one of our most powerful
families is now at Munckholm. His object is to
seduce Countess Ethel; he told me so himself.''
The general started back with dismay.
" My God ! Poor young creature ! Ordener!
Ordener ! Ethel and Schumacker are under
my protection. Who is this wretch ? to what
family does he belong ?"
128
HAN OF ICELAND
" The family d'Ahlefeld."
" D'Ahlefeld !" exclaimed the governor.
" Yes, it is all clear enough; Lieutenant
Frederick is now at Munckholm. And they
wish, my noble Ordener, to ally you to such
a race! I can quite conceive your repug¬
nance, noble Ordener."
The ^Id man folded his arms and remained
some K..wments in thought, then he went to
Ordener a^nd pressed him to his breast.
" Young man, you can leave without any
fear for your protegis ,* I will protect them.
Yes, go; it would be better in all respects to
do so. That infernal Countess d'Ahlefeld is
here; you are perhaps aware of it ?''
" The noble Countess d'Ahlefeld," said
the usher, throwing open the door.
At the name Ordener mechanically with¬
drew to the end of the room. And the countess
entering without perceiving him, exclaimed:
" My lord general, your pupil has played
you a trick ; he never went to Munckholm."
" Indeed," said the general.
" Yes; my son Frederick, who has just left
the palace, was on guard yesterday, and saw
no one."
" Really, noble lady," said the general.
"So," continued the countess, smiling
triumphantly, " general, do not expect your
Ordener."
HAN OF ICELAND
129
The governor remained cold and impassive.
" I no longer expect him, my lady countess.''
"General," said the countess, turning
around, " I thought we were alone. Who is
this?"
The countess turned her piercing glance on
Ordener, who simply bowed.
"Really—I only saw him once—^but—
without this costume it would be . . . My lord
general, this is the viceroy's son."
" He himself, noble lady," replied Ordener,
bowing again.
The countess smiled.
" In that case, will you permit a lady
who will soon be nearly related to you
to ask where you were yesterday, my lord
count ?''
" Lord count! I have not had the misfor¬
tune of already losing my noble father, lady
countess."
" That is certainly not what I meant.
Better become count by taking a wife than
by losing a father."
" One is quite as objectionable to me as the
other, noble lady."
The countess, a little discomfited at this
speech, passed it off with a laugh.
"What I heard, then, was correct: his
manners are somewhat unpolished. But the
company of ladies will soon alter them, when
130
HAN OF ICELAND
Ulrica d'Ahlefeld places the chain of the
Order of the Elephant round your neck.''
"A real chain, indeed!" replied he.
"You see, General Levin," pursued the
countess, with a forced smile, " that your
untractable pupil will not accept the rank of
colonel from a lady."
"You are right, countess," answered
Ordener; "a man who carries a sword
should not owe his epaulettes to a petticoat."
The lady's face was now completely clouded.
" Oh, oh! whence came, then, my lord
baron? Is it true that his excellency never
went to Munckholm yesterday ?''
" Noble lady, I am not prepared to satisfy
everyone's curiosity. General, we shall meet
again."
Then, shaking the old man's hand and
saluting the countess he withdrew, leaving
the lady confused from want of knowledge,
and the general indignant at all that he now
knew.
XII.
The fellow that sits next him now, parts
bread with him, pledges the breath of him in a
divided draught, is the readiest man to kill
him.
Timon of Athens, Act I., Scene 2.
Shakespeare.
If the reader will turn to the road from Dron-
theim to Skongen,—the narrow and rocky
road which skirts the gulf of Drontheim to
the hamlet of Vygla, he will not be long in
discovering tracks of the two travelers who
went out of the gate of Skongen at daybreak,
and rapidly ascended the many hills on the
winding road to Vygla.
Both were completely enveloped in cloaks.
One was upright, and walked with a quick,
firm step, his head proudly raised, and the
end of a sabre was visible beyond his cloak.
In spite of the darkness, the plume of his hat
could be seen waving in the breeze. The
other was taller than his companion, but
slightly bent. The hump on his back was
doubtless only a knapsack he carried beneath
131
132
HAN OF ICELAND
a large black cloak, whose frayed edges
denoted both long and loyal service. He
carried no weapon but a long stick, which
helped to steady his unequal and hurried steps.
If night prevented the reader from dis¬
tinguishing the features of the two travelers,
he will recognize them perhaps by the con¬
versation of one of them, commenced after an
hour's silent and, consequently, tiresome,
tramp.
" Master, my young master, from here we
can see the Tower of Vygla and Drontheim
belfry. That black mass before us is the
tower, the one behind is the cathedral, whose
flying buttresses, darker than the night itself,
show forth like the sides of a carcass of a
mammoth."
" Is Vygla far from Skongen?" asked the
other pilgrim.
" We have the Ordals to pass, my lord; we
shall not reach Skongen till three o'clock in
the morning."
" What hour is it striking now?"
"Good heavens! master; you make me
tremble. It is the bell sounding from Dron¬
theim. When the wind echoes the peal, it
denotes a storm. Clouds follow a northwest
breeze."
"The stars have certainly disappeared
behind us."
HAN OF ICELAND
133
" Pray let us hasten forward, or the storm
will soon overtake us, and by this time they
have perhaps discovered the mutilation of
Gill's body, and my disappearance. Let us
double our pace."
"Willingly, old man. Your burden seems
heavy; let me carry it for you. I am younger
and stronger than you are."
"No, indeed, noble master; the eagle
should not carry the turtle's shell. I am too
unworthy to burden you with my wallet."
" But, old man, it fatigues you. It seems
weighty. What can it contain? A while
ago you stumbled, and it rang like iron."
The old man started aside.
" It rang, master, oh, no, you are mistaken.
It is filled with nothing but food and clothes.
No, my lord, it does not tire me."
The young man's kind offer had evidently
greatly disturbed his companion, who tried to
hide his discomfiture.
"Very well," answered the young man
without noticing it, " if you do not feel tired,
keep it."
The old man, reassured, nevertheless,
hastened to change the conversation.
" It is sad to pass the night as fugitives on
a route which it would be delightful to explore
by daylight. To the left, on the banks of the
gulf, a quantity of Runic stones are to be
134
HAN OF ICELAND
found, on which, so tradition says, curious
characters have been traced by gods and
giants. Behind the rocks to our right are the
salt marshes of Sciold, which doubtless com¬
municate with the sea by a subterraneous
canal. The curious fish called the lombric is
found in them, which your humble guide dis¬
covered, feeds on sand. In the tower of
Vygla, which we are approaching, that glori¬
ous martyr Saint Etheldera was burnt alive by
the pagan king, Vermond, on wood from the
real cross, brought to Copenhagen by Olaus
III., and taken from him by the King of Nor¬
way. Since then every effort has been made
to convert this accursed tower into a chapel,
but every cross that has been placed there
has been consumed by fire from heaven."
At that moment a deep flash lighted up the
gulf, the hills, the rocks, and the tower, and
disappeared before the travelers could see any
of these objects. They halted immediately,
and the lightning was followed by a heavy
clap of thunder, echoing from cloud to cloud
in the heavens, and rock to rock upon earth.
They looked up. All the stars had dis¬
appeared, dense clouds were rolling rapidly
one over another, and the tempest seemed like
an avalanche over their heads. The mighty
wind which was forcing all these masses
before it had not as yet disturbed the trees.
HAN OF ICELAND
*35
nor had a single drop of rain fallen upon
them. From on high was heard the rum¬
blings of the storm. These, with the rushing
waters of the gulf, were the only sounds that
could be heard in the gloom of the night,
which was rendered more terrible by the dark¬
ness of the tempest.
This tumultuous silence was suddenly inter¬
rupted by a kind of roar, which made the
elder traveler start with fright.
"All-merciful Heaven !" cried he, grasping
the young man's arm. " That is the laugh of
the storm-devil, or the voice of . . ."
Another flash of lightning, a fresh peal of
thunder, cut short his words. The tempest
burst forth with great violence, as though
prompted by this signal. The travelers
wrapped their cloaks around them, to protect
themselves from the rain, which fell in tor¬
rents, and from tire dust which was driven up
in clouds by the wind from the still dry
earth.
"Old man," said the young man, "that
flash enables me to see that the tower of
Vygla is to our right. Let us leave the road
and seek shelter there."
"Shelter in the Accursed Tower!" cried
the old man. " May Saint Hospice protect
us. Only think, young master, that tower is
deserted."
136
HAN OF ICELAND
" So much the better, old man, we shall
not have to wait at the door."
"Think of the abominations which have
defiled it."
" Well, by sheltering us it will be purified.
Come, old man, follow me. I declare, on a
night like this, I would try the hospitality of
a robber's den."
Then, notwithstanding the old man's
remonstrances, he seized him by the arm, and
made his way to the building, which the
frequent flashes showed him was not far oif.
As they approached, they perceived a light in
one of the loop-holes of the tower.
"You see," said the young man, "that
this tower is not deserted. Now you are
reassured, no doubt.''
"God! good God I master; where are you
leading me ? May Saint Hospice defend me
from entering this devil's chapel!"
They had reached the foot of the tower.
The young man knocked boldly at the door
newly made in this formidable ruin.
" Calm your fears, old man. Some pious
hermit has sanctified this dwelling by taking
up his residence here."
"No," answered his companion, "I will
not enter. I can answer for it that no hermit
could live here unless he wore Beelzebub's
seven chains as a rosary."
HAN OF ICELAND
137
Meanwhile a light was seen moving from
loop-hole to loop-hole, until it shone through
the keyhole of the door.
"You are late, Nychol," cried a shrill
voice. " The gallows is erected at noon, and
it only takes six hours to come from Skongen
to Vygla. Has your work increased ?"
This question was put as the door was
opened. The woman who opened it, perceiv¬
ing two strangers instead of the person ex¬
pected, gave a cry of terror and resentment,
and drew back a step.
The woman's appearance was not very
reassuring. She was tall, and the light of the
lamp she carried threw a glare upon her livid
features. Her face was something cadaverous,
while from the hollows of her eyes darted
sinister rays of light, like a funeral torch.
Her scarlet petticoat, dyed a deeper red in
patches, showed her bare feet below. Her
withered form was partially covered by a man's
vest, the sleeves of which were cut off at the
elbow. The wind coming through the open
door blew her long gray hair wildly about,
notwithstanding the string slightly confining
it, giving a fiercer look to the otherwise savage
expression of her countenance.
"Good woman," said the younger of the
new arrivals, "it rains in torrents; you have
shelter and we have gold."
HAN OF ICELAND
His old companion pulled his cloak, and
whispered:
"Oh, master! what are you saying? If
this is not the devil's home, it is some bandit's
retreat. Our gold, instead of being the means
of our protection, will cause our destruction."
"Peace," said the other, drawing a purse
from his pocket; and showing its shining con¬
tents to his hostess, he repeated his request.
The latter recovered from her surprise, was
scrutinizing the travelers with her haggard-
looking eyes.
" Strangers," she at length exclaimed, pay¬
ing no heed to the words, " your guardian
angels must have forsaken you. What can you
seek among the inhabitants of the Accursed
Tower ? Strangers, no man told you to seek
shelter in these ruins, for one and all would
have said, ' Better far the lightning and
tempest than a refuge in the tower of Vygla.'
The only human being who enters has the
entrance to no man's house; he quits his soli¬
tude only for a crowd, and lives but for death.
Among mankind his name is never mentioned
without a curse J he carries out their ven¬
geance, and exists by their crimes. The vilest
wretch at the hour of his doom pours the
universal contempt upon him, to which he
considers himself entitled to add his own.
Stranger!—you must be, for you do not shrink
HAN OF ICELAND
139
with horror from the very threshold of this
tower,—do not trouble the wolf and his cubs.
Retrace your steps; and if you would not be
shunned by your fellow-men, never say that
the light has shone on your faces from the
lamp belonging to the inhabitants of the
tower of Vygla."
At these words, pointing to the door, she
advanced toward the travelers. The old man
trembled in every limb, and gave his young
companion a supplicating look. The latter,
who had little understood her words, owing
to the tall woman's extreme volubility, thought
she was mad; besides, he did not feel in¬
clined to continue his journey in the rain,
which still came down in torrents.
" Faith, our good hostess, that must be a
strange person you spoke of, and I should be
sorry to lose the opportunity of making his
acquaintance.''
" His acquaintance is soon made, young
man, and sooner ended. If the evil spirits
prompt you, go murder a man or mutilate a
corpse."
" Mutilate a corpse," repeated the old man,
in a quivering voice, and hiding himself in
the shadows of his companion.
" I do not understand you," said the latter;
" your ways, to say the least of it, are some¬
what vague, and the most simple thing is to
140
HAN OF ICELAND
remain here. A man must be mad to con¬
tinue his journey in such weather."
"But far more so," muttered the old man,
"to seek shelter from bad weather in a bad
place."
"Unhappy man," cried the woman, "do
not rap at the house of him who does not
know how to open any other door than that
of the sepulchre."
" Should it be my sepulchre, no one shall
say that I drew back for a few threatening
words. My sword shall be my safeguard.
Come now, close the door, for the wind blows
cold, and take this gold."
" Pray what should I do with your gold ?"
replied the hostess. " Precious in your hands,
it would be but vile dross in mine. Very well,
remain then for the sake of the gold. It can
help to shelter you from the storm, but it can¬
not shield you from the contempt with which
men will afterwards regard you. Remain.
You give a higher price for hospitality than
is paid for a murder. Wait for me here, and
hand me your gold. This is the first time a
man has entered here with his hands filled
with gold unstained with blood."
Then, placing her lamp aside, she bolted
the door and disappeared under an arch
made beneath a staircase at the end of the
hall.
HAN OF ICELAND
141
While the old man trembled and invoked
by every title the glorious Saint Hospice,
roundly cursing under his breath his young
companion's imprudence, the latter took the
light and examined the circular chamber in ,
which they found themselves. He could not
help shuddering at the object fixed to the wall,
and the old man, whose eyes watched every
movement, exclaimed:
" Great Heaven ! master, a gallows."
It was in fact a large gibbet, which reached
the centre of the damp and lofty porch.
" Yes," said the young traveler; " and here
are wooden and steel saws, chains, iron collars,
a set of triangles, with heavy iron pincers
hung over it."
" Holy Saints of Paradise !" exclaimed the
old man, " where are we ?"
His companion coolly continued his exam¬
ination.
" Here is a roll of hempen cord, there
furnaces and boilers; this portion of the wall
is covered with tongs and skinning knives,
here are leather lashes tipped with steel, an
axe, a mace."
" Have we then come to hell's depository?"
cried the old man, terrified at this fearful
enumeration.
" There," continued the other, " are copper
syphons, wheels with brass teeth, a chest of
142
HAN OF ICELAND
long nails, a screw-jack. It is indeed horrible
furniture. Old man, I regret that my impru¬
dence should have brought you here.''
" Really, it is quite time you did."
The old man was more dead than alive.
" Do not be afraid; the place matters but
little. I am here to protect you."
"A fine protection!" muttered the old
guide, whose terror had weakened his respect
and fear for his young companion; " a sabre
of thirty inches against a thirty-cubit gibbet."
The tall woman reappeared, and taking up
the lamp, made a sign to the travelers to follow
her. They cautiously ascended a narrow
and broken staircase, made out of the thick¬
ness of the wall. Through each loop-hole the
wind and rain came with a rush, threatening
to extinguish the quivering flame of the lamp
which the hostess tried to shield with her long
and transparent hands. It was not without
repeatedly tripping over loose stones, which
the old man imagined were human bones
scattered about, that they reached the first
floor of the tower, a circular room, similar to
the one beneath it. In the centre, according
to the usual custom, burnt a large fire, the
smoke from which spread its fumes around,
escaping by a hole made in the ceiling. The
flames and the lamp attracted the travelers
toward the spot. Some fresh meat was twisting
HAN OF ICELAND
143
on a spit before the fire. The old man
turned away in horror.
"It was in that execrable grate," said he
to his companion, " that the limbs of a saint
.were burnt on the wood of the blessed
cross."
A clumsy table stood a short distance from
the fire. The hostess invited the travelers to
be seated.
"Strangers," said she, placing the lamp
down, "supper will shortly be ready, and
my husband will doubtless soon be here,
fearing lest the spirit of midnight should
carry him off in passing near the Accursed
Tower."
Then Ordener—for the reader has guessed
that it was he and his guide, Benignus Spiagu-
dry—was able to scrutinize his companion's
strange disguise, a task which had taxed all
the latter's ingenuity, in order to avoid recog¬
nition and capture. The poor fugitive had
changed his suit of reindeer skin for a com¬
plete one of black cloth, a relic of the Splad-
gest, which had formerly belonged to a cele¬
brated Drontheim grammarian who in despair
had drowned himself, because he was unable
to discover why Jupiter gave Jovis in the
genitive case. His hazelwood clogs had been
replaced by a pair of postilion's jack-boots,
who had been crushed to death by falling
144
HAN OF ICELAND
under his horse. The old guardian's spindle-
shanks would have been lost in these boots;
but for the addition of many a wisp of hay,
he could never have walked in them. The
large wig, formerly belonging to a young
French dandy, who had been assassinated by
thieves at the gates of Drontheim, hid his
baldness, and fell around his deformed
shoulders. He had a patch on one eye, and,
thanks to some rouge which he had found in
an old maid's pocket, who had died for love,
his pale and hollow cheeks were of an un¬
usual color. The charm was increased by the
rain spreading the rosy hue the whole length
of his face. Before taking his seat, he care¬
fully placed under him the package he had
carried on his back, and wrapped himself in
his old cloak; and while his companion's
attention was riveted upon him, he appeared
to be engrossed by the roast meat his hostess
was attending to, and toward which he from
time to time cast looks of anxiety and horror,
muttering : " Human flesh—horrendas epulasi
Cannibals! Moloch's supper. Ne pueros
coram populo Medea trucidet. . . . Where are
we ? Atreus—Druidess—Irmensul. The devil
destroyed Lycaon."
At length he exclaimed:
"Good heavens! thanks be to Providence,
I can see a tail."
HAN OF ICELAND
145
Ordener, who had listened attentively, fol¬
lowed the train of his thoughts, and the idea
made him smile.
"That tail is not very reassuring. It may
belong to the devil."
Spiagudry paid no heed to his joke; his
eyes were fixed upon the other end of the
room. He trembled, and whispered in
Ordener's ear:
"Master, look, on that heap of straw, in
the shadow ..."
"Well?" said Ordener.
"Three motionless and naked corpses—
three children's bodies!"
"Some one is knocking at the door," said
the woman, who was crouching over the fire.
In fact, loud and continued knocking could
be heard even above the noise of the storm.
"It is he at last; it is Nychol."
And, taking up the lamp, the hostess went
hurriedly down.
The two travelers heard a confused sound
of voices, in the midst of which the following
words, distinct above the rest, made Spia¬
gudry start with affright.
"Woman, silence! we will remain. The
storm comes in without asking your leave."
Spiagudry crept close to Ordener.
"Master, master!" said he feebly, "woe
be to us."
146
HAN OF ICELAND
The sound of feet was heard on the stairs,
and two men dressed as monks came into the
room, followed by the terrified hostess.
One was of medium height, and wore the
black coat and the closely cut hair of a
Lutheran minister; the other was short, and
was dressed as a hermit, with a rope girdle
round his waist, and the hood drawn over his
eyes, and only allowed his long black beard
to be seen. His hands were entirely con¬
cealed beneath his large sleeves.
At the appearance of these two quiet-look¬
ing persons, Spiagudry, who had been alarmed
at the voice of one of them, felt now reas¬
sured.
"Fear not, dear lady," said the minister
to the hostess. " Christian priests return
good for evil. Would they therefore injure
those who would serve them? We humbly
ask for shelter. If the reverend doctor whom
I met, like myself, far from home, spoke
harshly just now, he was wrong; our vows
enforce moderation of tone. Alas! the most
devout are not infallible. I lost myself on
my way from Skongen to Drontheim. I was
without a guide, without shelter from the
storm, when my reverend brother, who like
myself had wandered far from home, allowed
me to accompany him as far as here. He
spoke in high terms of your kind hospitality.
HAN OF ICELAND
147
dear lady, and he was no doubt right. Do not
say, like the bad she'ghsrA,'Advena, cur intras !'
Receive us, worthy hostess, and God will save
your crops from the storm; God will find a
shelter for your cattle during the tempest, as
you have done for the lost travelers."
"Old man," interrupted the woman, an¬
grily, "I have neither cattle nor crops."
"Well, if you are poor. Heaven will bless
you before the rich. You and your husband,
with increase of years, will gain the respect of
all, not for your wealth, but for your virtues;
your children will grow up esteemed by every
one, and follow in their father's footsteps . . ."
"Silence!" cried the hostess. "It is by
keeping our present position that our children,
like ourselves, will be treated with the con¬
tempt of the world, which follows our race
from generation to generation. Silence, again
I say. Your blessing would only turn into a
curse upon our heads."
"Oh, Heaven!" replied the minister;
"who, then, are you? What crimes darken
your life?"
"What are crimes? what are virtues? We
are privileged people here; we possess no
virtues, we commit no crimes."
"The woman is mad," said the minister,
turning toward the little hermit, who was dry¬
ing his rough cloth dress before the fireplace.
148
HAN OF ICELAND
" No, priest," answered the woman; " you
shall know where you are. I prefer horror to
any show of pity. I am not mad, but the
wife of ... "
The rest of the sentence was lost, owing to
violent knocking at the door, to the great
disappointment of Spiagudry and Ordener,
who had both been attentive listeners.
"Cursed be the high sheriff of Skongen,"
said the woman in red, " for assigning such a
dwelling to us as this tower by the wayside.
Perhaps, again, this is not Nychol."
Nevertheless she took up the lamp.
" What matters, after all, if it is another
guest ? The brook can flow where the torrent
has passed."
The four travelers now scrutinized each
other. Spiagudry, who had been alarmed by
the hermit's voice, and afterward reassured by
seeing his black beard, would have trembled
had he been aware of the piercing look the
latter was casting at him beneath the folds of
his hood.
In the general silence, the minister hazarded
a question.
"Brother hermit, I presume you are a
Catholic priest who escaped during the last
persecution, and that you were homeward
bound when I was fortunate enough to meet
you. Can you inform me where we are ?"
HAN OF ICELAND
149
The door opened before the hermit could
reply.
" Woman, let a storm come, and many
there are who are only too glad to find a place
at our despised table, and to take shelter under
our accursed roof."
" Nychol," replied the woman, "I could
not prevent . . ."
" What care I as to the number of guests,
provided they pay? Gold is equally well
earned either in lodging a traveler or in
strangling a brigand."
The speaker was standing at the door in full
view of the travelers. He was a man of
colossal proportions, dressed in red serge,
similar to that worn by the hostess. His
enormous head, sunk between his shoulders,
contrasted with the long and angular neck of
his gracious spouse. He had a low forehead,
a flat nose, thick eyebrows, dark lines under¬
neath the eyes, which shone forth with a blood-
red light. His face, being clean shaved,
showed a wide-spread mouth, with black lips
parted into a hideous smile. Two tufts of
bushy hair grew at each side of his face,
extending to the bottom of the jaw, giving it
a square-like form. He wore a green felt
hat, dripping with rain, which he had not
even the courtesy to raise on seeing the
travelers.
HAN OF ICELAND
On perceiving him, Benignus Spiagudry
uttered a terrified cry, while the Lutheran
minister turned aside with surprise and horror,
when the master of the house recognized him,
thus addressing him:
" What! you here, your reverence ? I never
expected to be amused to-day by your piteous
and frightened countenance."
The minister restrained his first movement
of repugnance, his features became grave and
serene.
" And I, my son, am glad that chance has
brought the shepherd to the stray sheep, who
will now take heed of the pastor."
"Ah! by Haman's gibbet!" replied the
other, with a burst of laughter, " this is the
first time I have heard myself compared to a
sheep. Listen to me, father. If you would
flatter the vulture, do not call him a pigeon."
" He who changes the vulture into the dove
would console, my son, and not flatter you.
You think I fear you, while I only pity you."
"You must, truly, your reverence, have a
large amount of pity. I should have thought
you would have exhausted it all on that poor
devil to-day to whom you showed the cross
that you might the better hide the sight of my
gibbet."
" That unfortunate man was less to be pitied
than you are; for he wept, while you laughed.
HAN OF ICELAND
Happy is the man who in his last moments
remembers that the arm of man is less power¬
ful than the word of God."
"Well said, father," replied the host, with
horrible sardonic gayety. " Happy the man
who weeps. Besides, our man to-day had
committed no greater crime than that of lov¬
ing the king so much that he could not live
without putting his majesty's face on little
copper medals, which he afterward gilded
artistically, to render them more worthy of the
royal effigy. Our gracious sovereign has not
been ungrateful, and, in recompense to him
for so much love, he bestowed a fine hempen
cord upon him, which, for the enlightenment
of my worthy guests, I myself conferred on
him to-day in the public square of Skongen, as
grand chancellor of the order of the Gibbet,
assisted by you, grand chaplain of the same
order . . ."
" Stop, unhappy man !" interrupted the
minister. " Can he who punishes forget the
penalty? Listen to the thunder ..."
"Well, and what is thunder? A peal of
Satan's laughter."
" Good God ! He has just sent a man to his
death, and he can blaspheme."
"A truce to your sermons, old idiot!"
cried the host, in an irritated voice. " Unless
you curse the angel of darkness, who has
*52
HAN OF ICELAND
brought us together twice in twelve hours
in the same cart and under the same roof-
imitate the silence of your comrade, the
hermit, who anxiously hopes to return to
his grotto at Lynrass. I must thank you,
brother hermit, for the blessing you bestow on
the Accursed Tower from your position on the
hill. I thought you were very tall, and that
black beard to me seemed to be white. You
are certainly the hermit of Lynrass, are you
not, the only hermit in the whole of the
Drontheimhus ?"
"I am, indeed, the only one," was the
reply, in muffled tones.
"We are, then," returned the host, "the
two solitary beings of the province. Ho!
Bechlie! hurry yourself with that quarter of
lamb, for I am hungry. I was delayed in
the village of Burlock by that cursed Doctor
Manryll, who would only give me twelve
ascalins for a body; that infernal guardian of
the Spladgest at Drontheim gets forty.
Hulloa! you, sir, of the wig; what is the
matter with you ? You nearly fell backwards ?
I say, Bechlie, have you finished the skeleton
of Orgivius, the poisoner and famous magi¬
cian ? It is time it was sent to the museum at
Berghen. Have you sent one of your brats to
the syndic of Lcevig for what he owes me—
four double crowns for having boiled a witch
HAN OF ICELAND
*53
and two alchemists to death, and for removing
several chains from his bench; twenty asca-
lins for taking down Ismael Typhaine, the
Jew, from the gibbet, on the complaint of
the bishop; a crown for putting a new
wooden arm to the stone gallows of the
borough?"
"The money," replied the woman, in a
shrill voice, " remained in the hands of the
syndic because your son had forgotten to take
a wooden spoon to receive it in; not one of
the judge's servants' would place it in his
hand."
The husband frowned.
"Let their necks come within my grasp,
and they shall see if I first wait for a wooden
spoon to touch them. But we must keep in
with the syndic; for it was to him that Ivar
the robber sent in a petition, complaining
that he was put to the torture, not by the
usual official, but by myself; and, as he had
not been convicted, he could not be con¬
sidered infamous. By the way, wife, stop
your children from playing with my nippers
and pincers. Where are they, the little mon¬
sters?" continued the host, approaching the
straw on which Spiagudry thought he saw
three dead bodies. "Here they are; they
sleep, notwithstanding all this noise, just like
three hanged bodies."
154 HAN OF ICELAND
From the horrible words just uttered with
cool and insolent gayety, the reader can
doubtless divine who inhabits the tower of
Vygla. Spiagudry, who recognized the new¬
comer from the first, having seen him so often
figure in the fearful ceremonies in the square
of Drontheim, now was half dead with fright,
as he had personal motives for dreading this
terrible person. He said to Ordener, in a
scarcely articulate tone:
" This is Nychol Orugix, the headsman of
the Drontheimhus.''
Ordener, at first struck with horror, trem¬
bled and regretted the highway, with all its
storm. He soon recovered himself, and his
curiosity was aroused. Although he pitied
his old guide's terror and embarrassment, he
gave his whole attention to the words and
ways of the singular being who had last
entered, as we should listen to the hyena
howling and the lion's roar, when brought
from the desert into our cities. Poor Benig-
nus was far too confused to make any
psychological observations, and more intent
on hiding himself behind Ordener, and draw¬
ing his cloak and wig well over him, and only
breathed in gasps.
The hostess had served up the roast quarter
of lamb, deprived of its reassuring tail, on a
large earthenware dish. The executioner
HAN OF ICELAND
seated himself between the two priests, facing
Ordener and Spiagudry, while his wife, after
placing a jug of beer sweetened with honey, a
piece of rindebrod*' and five wooden platters,
on the table, took a chair before the fire, and
occupied herself in clearing off the notches
from her husband's pincers.
"There, your reverence," said Orugix,
laughing, " the sheep offers you some lamb.
And you. Sir Knight of the Wig, was it the
wind spread your hair so over your face?"
"The wind, sir,—the storm," whimpered
the trembling Spiagudry.
" Come, pluck up courage, old one. You
see the holy priests and I are good friends.
Tell us who you and your taciturn young
friend are. Talk a bit. Let us make
acquaintance; for if your speech is any¬
thing like your appearance, it will be comical
enough."
"You are jocular, master," said the guard¬
ian, contracting his lips, grinning, and wink¬
ing his eye, with an attempt at mirth. " I
am nothing but a poor old ..."
"Yes," interrupted the jovial headsman,
"some old wiseacre, some old wizard . . ."
"Oh, master, a scholar, yes, a sorcerer,
no."
"So much the worse. A sorcerer would
complete our merry sanhedrim. My noble
156 HAN OF ICELAND
guests, let us drink. This old scholar may
then find words to enliven our supper. To
the health of the man hung to-day, brother
preacher. Well, father hermit, so you refuse
my beer?"
The hermit had drawn from beneath his
frock a large gourd full of clear water, with
which he filled his glass.
"Well, forsooth, hermit of Lynrass," ex¬
claimed the headsman, "if you will not
taste my beer, I should like some of that water
you seem to prefer."
" So be it," replied the hermit.
" Take off your glove, reverend brother; you
must pour the drink out with a bare hand."
The hermit made a sign of refusal.
" I am bound by a vow," said he.
"Pour away, then," cried the executioner.
Orugix had scarcely touched the glass with
his lips when he quickly put it down. The
hermit had emptied his at one draught.
" By the chalice of Jesus, reverend hermit,
what is this infernal liquor? I never tasted
any like it since the day I was nearly drowned
in crossing from Copenhagen to Drontheim.
Truly, hermit, this is no water from Lynrass,
it is sea-water;"
" Sea-water !" repeated Spiagudry, terrified
no less at this than at sight of the hermit's
gloves.
HAN OF ICELAND
157
"What now?" cried the hangman, laugh¬
ing; "everything seems to alarm you, old
Absalom, even to the drink which a holy
monk takes to mortify the flesh."
" Alas 1 no, master! but sea-water—there
is only one man ..."
" Come, doctor, you do not know what you
are saying. Your uneasiness among us either
springs from a guilty conscience or contempt."
These words were pronounced in such a
tone that Spiagudry felt the necessity of dis¬
simulating his terror, and using all the
presence of mind he possessed by having
recourse to the vast stores of his memory.
" Contempt! I, contempt for you, my
noble master! for you, whose presence in a
province gives it the right of merum imperium^
or right of blood ! for you, the master of high
justice, the executioner of the public prose¬
cutor, weapon of justice, shield of innocence !
you, whom Aristotle, Book Six, last chapter
on 'Politics,' classed among the magistrates,
and whom Paris of Puteo, in his treatise ' de
Syndico,' fixes the emoluments at five golden
crowns, as this passage proves quinque aureos
tnanivollo ! for you, whose brother headsman
at Cronstadt acquires a patent of nobility,
after serving three hundred heads! for you,
whose terrible but honorable functions are
proudly filled by the youngest married man in
HAN OF ICELAND
Franconia, by the most junior counsel at
Rentlinger, by the last citizen installed at
Stedien. Do I not also know, my good
master, that your brotherhood in France have
the right of havadium on each patient of
Saint Ladre, on the pigs and cakes on the eve
of the Epiphany? How could I have no
respect for you, when the Abbot of Saint-
Germain-des-Pr6s gives you each year, at the
feast of Saint Vincent, a pig's head, and
places you in front of the procession ..."
Here the crude guardian was roughly inter¬
rupted by the headsman.
"This is the first time I have heard of it.
The learned abbot you mentioned has up to
the present defrauded me of all those fine
privileges you have just pictured in so enticing
a manner. Sir strangers," continued Orugix,
"apart from this old idiot's extravagant non¬
sense, it is true that I have missed my career.
I am but the poor executioner of a paltry
province. Why, I ought to be in a better
position than Stillison Deckoy, the famous
headsman of Moscovy. Would you believe that
I am the same man who twenty-four years ago
was appointed to behead Schumacher ?''
"Schumacher, the Count of Griffenfeld !"
exclaimed Ordener.
"That astonishes you. Sir Mute. Yes, the
same Schumacher, whom chance may replace
HAN OF ICELAND
159
in my hands, should the king revoke his
reprieve.—Let us empty the pitcher, gentle¬
men, and I will relate to you how it is that
with such a brilliant opening I have sunk to
such a miserable position.
"I was, in 1676, assistant to Rhum Stuald,
the royal headsman of Copenhagen, at the
time of Count Griffenfeld's condemnation.
My master was taken ill, and I was, thanks to
the interest I possessed, chosen to replace him
for this famous execution. The fifth of June
—I shall never forget the day—at five in the
morning I began to work. With the help of
the carpenter of scaffolds, we erected an im¬
mense one in the Citadel Square, and draped
it with black, out of respect for the rank of
the condemned man. At eight the Garde-
noble surrounded the scaffold; the Sleswig
Uhlans kept back the crowd. Who in my
place would not have been intoxicated with
his position ? All eyes were fixed upon me as
I stood on the platform, my axe in hand, for
at that moment I was the most important
person in the two kingdoms. My fortune was
made; for these great lords who compassed
the chancellor's destruction, what could they
do without me ? I could see myself appointed
royal executioner to the capital, with assist¬
ants, and many other privileges. Listen.
The clock struck ten. The condemned man
i6o
HAN OF ICELAND
left his prison, crossed the square, and calmly
mounted the scaffold with a firm step. I
wished to bind his hair, but he performed this
last service for himself. 'For a long time,'
said he, with a smile, to the prior of Saint
Andrew, ' I have been my own valet.' I was
about to use the black bandage for his eyes, but
he disdainfully declined it, evincing, however,
no contempt toward myself. ' My friend,' said
he, ' this is perhaps the first time that only a
few feet separate the two extreme officers of
the secular arm—the chancellor and the heads¬
man.' Those words have been engraven on
my memory. He also refused the black
cushion I offered him for his knees, embraced
the chaplain, and, declaring his innocence,
knelt down. With one blow I sliattered the
shield of his armorial bearings, exclaiming,
according to custom, ' This is not done with¬
out good reason.' This insult shook the
count's firmness: he turned pale, but he
hastened to say, ' The king gave; the king
can take away.' He placed his head upon the
block, and turned his eyes to the east. I raised
my axe with both hands. Listen. Suddenly
there came a cry : ' Pardon in the name of the
king! pardon for Schumacker!' I turned
round, and saw an aide-de-camp galloping
toward the scaffold, waving a parchment.
The count rose—not joyously, but with an air
HAN OF ICELAND
l6l
of contentment. The parchment was handed
to him. ' Just Heaven !' cried he, ' imprison¬
ment for life. Their mercy is harder to bear
than death.' He came down, crestfallen like
a thief, from the scaffold he had mounted so
firmly. For myself it was another matter—the
safety of this man was my fall. After taking
down the scaffold, I returned to my master. I
was still full of hope, although slightly disap¬
pointed at losing a golden crown, the fee for
each head. This was not all. The following day
I received my appointment as headsman of the
Drontheimhus, executioner of the province the
least important in Norway. It only shows,
gentlemen, how little matters lead to great
events. The count's enemies, wistful to have
the credit for clemency, had so arranged for
the reprieve to arrive immediately after the
execution. The minute made all the differ¬
ence, and I was blamed for my slowness, as if
I could hurry the last moments of an illus¬
trious person by preventing him from amusing
himself. As if a royal executioner could
behead a grand chancellor with as little cere¬
mony as a provincial headsman would a Jew.
There was ill-feeling in all this. I had a
brother, and I believe he still exists, who by
changing his name had succeeded in getting
into service at the grand chancellor's. Count
d'Ahlefeld. My presence at Copenhagen
I62
HAN OF ICELAND
annoyed this pitiful fellow. My brother
despises me. I shall perhaps hang him some
day."
The headsman paused, to give vent to his
gayety; then he continued:
" You see, my dear guests, that I have taken
my own course, and cast ambition to the
winds. I honestly act up to my business. I
sell bodies, or Bechlie makes skeletons of
them, and they are purchased by the Museum
of Anatomy, at Berghen. I laugh at every¬
thing, even at this poor female. She was a
gipsy, but solitude has driven her mad. My
three heirs grow up in fear of the devil or
the gallows. My name is held in terror by the
smallest children of the Drontheimhus. The
s)mdics furnish me with a cart and my red
clothes. The Accursed Tower keeps out the
rain as well as any bishop's palace. Old
jjriests, driven by the storm to my roof, preach
to me, and scholars flatter me. In fact I am
as happy as any other. I drink, I eat, I hang,
I sleep."
The headsman had not reached the end of
this long discourse without drinking much beer
and loud explosions of laughter.
"He kills, and he sleeps," murmured the
minister ; " wretched man."
" How happy the wretch is !" exclaimed the
hermit.
HAN OF ICELAND
163
" Yes, brother hermit," said the executioner;
" a wretched man, like yourself, but certainly
far more happy. My business would be good
enough if they would not interfere with its
privileges. Would you credit it ? the newly
appointed chaplain at Drontheim, under pre¬
text of a certain illustrious marriage about to
take place, has petitioned for the pardon of
twelve criminals, who virtually belong to me."
"Who belong to you?" exclaimed the
minister.
" Yes, certainly, reverend sir. Seven of
them were to be flogged, two branded on the
left cheek, and three to be hung, which make
twelve in all. Yes, twelve crowns and thirty
ascalins; which I lose if pardon is granted.
What do you think, strangers, of a chaplain
who thus disposes of my emoluments ? This
cursed priest is called Athanasius Munder.
Oh ! if he were only within my grasp."
The minister rose, and in a calm voice
said :
" My son, I am Athanasius Munder."
At these words Grugix started from his seat
with rage ; then the chaplain's kind and noble
glance beamed upon him, and he sat down
silent and confused.
Ordener, who had risen from the table,
ready to defend the priest, was the first to
break the silence.
164
HAN OF ICELAND
"Nychol Orugix," said he, "here are
thirteen crowns to compensate you for the
pardon of these condemned men.''
"Alas!" interrupted the minister, "who
knows whether I shall obtain their pardon ? If
I could only see the viceroy's son j for it
entirely depends upon his marriage with the
chancellor's daughter."
"Reverend sir," replied the young man,
in a firm voice, "you will obtain it, for
Ordener Guldenlew will not accept the
nuptial ring until your proteges' chains have
been removed."
" Young stranger, you can do nothing, but
God will reward you for these words."
However, Ordener's thirteen crowns and
the minister's kindly glance, had quite
restored Nychol's usual gayety.
" There, good chaplain, you are a brave
man, worthy of serving in the chapel of Saint
Hilarion. I said more against you than I
really thought. You walk straight in your
own path, and it is no fault of yours if it
crosses mine. The man I want to grasp is the
guardian of the dead at Drontheim, that old
magician—the keeper of the Spladgest. What
is his name? Spliugry—Spadugry? Tell
me, you old Doctor Babel of science, you who
seem to know all, could you not help me to
find this brother sorcerer? You must have
HAN OF ICELAND
met him sometimes on festival days prancing
in the air astride on a broomstick."
Certainly, if at this moment poor Benignus
could have fled into the air on something of
the kind, he would joyfully have confided his
terror-stricken self to this mode of egress. He
was terrified at all his surroundings—the
memories of the Accursed Tower, the red
woman's haggard face, the voice, the gloves
and the mysterious hermit's drink, the adven¬
turous spirit of his young companion, but,
above all, the executioner, beneath whose roof
he had sought shelter. He had lost all con¬
trol, and could do nothing but tremble, when
questioned by the formidable Orugix. As he
was by no means anxious to imitate the priest's
heroism, his embarrassed tongue refused to
respond.
" Well," continued the hangman, " cannot
you tell me his name ? Does your wig deafen
you?"
" A little, my lord." But he managed to
add : "I swear I do not know his name."
"He does not know it," said the formid¬
able voice of the hermit. " He is wrong to
swear. That man's name is Benignus Spia-
gudry."
"I!—I! great heavens!" cried the old
man in terror.
The headsman burst into a laugh.
i66
HAN OF ICELAND
" Who said it was you? We are speaking
of that pagan of a guardian. Why, this peda¬
gogue alarms himself for nothing. If all his
queer grimaces were made from some grave
cause 1 The old idiot would be amusing to
hang. And so, my venerable doctor," con¬
tinued the executioner, delighted with Spia-
gudry's fright, "you do not know this
Benignus Spiagudry?"
" No, master," said the guardian, reassured
somewhat at the thought of his incognito; " I
am not in the least acquainted with him.
Since he has had the misfortune to displease
you, I should be truly sorry ever to meet
him."
"You seem to know him, friend hermit?"
" Yes, certainly," replied the monk. " He
is tall, old, thin, bald ..."
Spiagudry, now justly alarmed, hurriedly
arranged his wig.
"He has," added the hermit, "hungry
looking hands, like those of a thief who has
not met with a traveler for a week. His back
is bent."
Spiagudry did his best to straighten himself.
" Besides, he could well be mistaken for
one of the bodies under his charge, if his eyes
had not that piercing look."
Spiagudry lifted his hand to his protecting
patch.
HAN OF ICELAND
167
"Thanks, father," said the hangman. "I
shall now be able to recognize the old Jew."
Spiagudry, who was a good Christian,
revolting at this intolerable insult, could not
repress an exclamation.
"Jew! master!"
And then he stopped short, fearful of having
said too much.
" Well, Jew or infidel, what matters, if he
is in league with the devil, as report says ?''
" I should readily believe it," answered the
hermit, with a diabolical smile, which his
hood could not entirely conceal, " if he were
not such a coward. How could he make
such a compact with satan ? He is as cow¬
ardly as he is wicked. When fear gets the
better of him, he does not know himself.''
The hermit spoke in slow and measured
tones, which gave singular force to his words.
"He does not know himself!" inwardly
repeated Spiagudry.
" I am sorry to hear a wicked man is a
coward," said the headsman. " He is hardly
worth the trouble of hating. You must fight
a serpent; you can but crush a lizard."
Spiagudry ventured a few words in his own
defense.
"But, gentlemen, are you sure that this
public functionary is quite what you depict
him? Has he then a reputation ..."
HAN OF ICELAND
"Reputation!" exclaimed the hermit;
"the most execrable in the province."
Benignus, disappointed, turned to the exe¬
cutioner.
"Master, what vrrong has he done you?
Your hatred has doubtless some founda¬
tion."
"You are right, old man, not to doubt it,
as his business is something like mine, Spia-
gudry does all that he can to injure me."
" Oh, master, do not believe it. If this be
the case, this man cannot have seen you, as I
have, in the midst of your wife and charming
children, welcoming the stranger to your
hospitable board. Had he done so, he could
never have been your enemy."
Spiagudry had scarcely finished this flatter¬
ing speech than the woman, who until then
had kept silence, exclaimed, in a bitter
tone:
"The sting of the viper is never more
venomous than when it is mingled with
honey."
She turned again to her work; the crack¬
ling and harsh sound of the pincers filled up
the intervals, as a chorus does in a Greek
tragedy.
"This woman is mad, truly," muttered the
guardian to himself, the only way he could
account for the failure of his flattering speech.
HAN OF ICELAND
169
"Bechlie is right, Doctor Fair Locks,"
cried the hangman. "I shall look upon you
as a viper if you persist in defending this
Spiagudry."
"Heaven help me, master ! I wish in no
way to defend him."
"All right. For you do not know how
far his impudence leads him. Will you credit
it, he has dared to dispute my right to Han
of Iceland ?"
"To Han of Iceland !" repeated the her¬
mit.
"Yes; you have heard of that famous
brigand ?"
" Yes," replied the hermit.
" Well, every brigand belongs to the hang¬
man, is it not so? What does this con¬
founded Spiagudry do ? He petitions that a
price should be set on Han's head ?"
" He asked for a price to be set on Han's
head !" exclaimed the hermit.
" He had that audacity, simply to claim the
body as his property, and to do me out of my
rights."
" This is infamous, Master Orugix, daring to
dispute a privilege which evidently belongs to
you," said the hermit, with a smile that terri¬
fied Spiagudry.
"The trick is still more shabby from the
fact that it would take the execution of such a
170
HAN OF ICELAND
man as Han to bring me into notice and make
my fortune, which I lost by Schumacker's
escape."
" Certainly, Master Nychol."
"Yes, brother hermit, the day of Han's
arrest come and see me, and we will sacrifice
a fatted pig, to the success of my future
honors."
" Willingly; but I may not be free on that
day; besides, just now you sent ambition to
the devil."
" So I did, father, when all my hopes were
crushed by a Spiagudry and his petition."
"Ah!" replied the hermit in a strange
voice. " So Spiagudry petitioned for a price
to be set on Han's head."
This voice affected the old man as a toad
charms a bird.
"Gentlemen," said he, "why judge so
hastily? This may only be a false report."
"A false report 1" exclaimed Orugix; " it is
only too true. The petition, signed by Spia¬
gudry, and countersigned by the syndic, is
now awaiting at Drontheim for the governor's
decision."
The executioner was so well informed that
Spiagudry was afraid to go further. He
contented himself by inwardly cursing his
young companion. Imagine the state of his
mind when the hermit said, in a jeering tone:
HAN OF ICELAND
171
" Master Nychol, what is the punishment
for sacrilege?"
At these words Spiagudry felt as though his
patch and wig had been dragged off. He
anxiously listened for Orugix's reply, who
delayed doing so until he had emptied his glass.
"That depends upon the nature of the
sacrilege."
"If it should consist in the mutilation of
the dead ?''
The trembling Benignus expected at that
moment the strange hermit would pronounce
his name.
"Formerly," answered Orugix, coldly,
"they buried the criminal alive with the
polluted body."
"And now?"
"Now the punishment is milder."
"Milder?" said Spiagudry, scarcely breath¬
ing.
"Yes," answered the executioner, with the
satisfied air of an artist who knows his work.
" First an S is branded with a hot iron on
the fleshy part of his legs."
"And then?" interrupted the guardian,
painfully uttering the words.
"Then they content themselves with hang¬
ing him."
" Mercy upon us !" cried Spiagudry, " hang
him."
172
HAN OF ICELAND
"Why, what is the matter with you? You
look at me as a criminal does the gibbet."
"I see with pleasure," said the hermit,
"that people are now guided by principles of
humanity."
At this moment, the storm which had ceased
permitted them to hear the distinct sound of
a horn from without.
"Nychol," said the woman, "they are in
pursuit of some criminal. That is the archers'
horn."
"The archers' horn !" repeated each of the
guests, with different accents. But Spia-
gudry's bespoke the most profound terror.
A knock at the door of the tower put an
end to these exclamations.
XIII.
All that man needs is a signal; the elements
of a revolution are all ready. When will it
commence ?
Bonaparte.
Loevig is a large town situated on the
northern coast of Drontheim Gulf, and backed
by a chain of hills, whose varied culture gave
them the appearance of mosaics studded in
the horizon. The place wore a dull aspect.
The fishermen's cabins, built of wood and
reeds; the conical huts of earth and flint,
where the invalid miner retires, as soon as
his savings permit, to end his days in sunshine
and repose; the frail dwelling of the chamois
hunter, who on his return thatches the roof
and covers the walls with the skins of animals,
line the streets, which, from their little breadth
and windings, are longer than the town itself.
In a part of the town, where little is to be
seen but the ruins of a large tower, formerly
the ancient fortress built by Horda the Archer,
Lord of Lcevig, brother-in-arms of the pagan
King Halfdan, and occupied in 1698 by the
m
174
HAN OF ICELAND
syndic of the town, who was better accommo¬
dated than any one else, unless it were the
white swan which came every summer and
perched itself on the summit of the church
belfry, having all the appearance of the white
pearl placed at the extreme point of a manda¬
rin's hat.
On the morning of the same day on which
Ordener arrived at Drontheim, a person, like¬
wise incognito, had landed at Loevig. His
gilded litter, though no arms were quartered,
his foiur tall lackeys, armed to the teeth, had
roused the curiosity of all parties, and made
him the topic of conversation. The host of
the " Moutte d'Or " (Golden Gull), the small
tavern where this mighty person had alighted,
assumed a mysterious air, and gave the same
answer to every question, "I do not know,"
with a manner implying, " I know all, but
you shall learn nothing." The tall lackeys
were as mute as fish, and kept things as dark
as the entrance of a mine. The syndic at
first shut himself up in his tower, and awaited
a visit from the stranger; but soon, to the
surprise of the inhabitants, he twice called
fruitlessly at the " Moutte d'Or," and lingered
about the windows in hopes of a bow from the
stranger. The gossips at once inferred that
the visitor had made his rank known to the
syndic. But they were mistaken. A messenger
HAN OF ICELAND
had called at the syndic's, requesting him
to affix his signature to the stranger's free
pass. The syndic noticed that the green wax
with which the packet was sealed was stamped
with this device, two hands of justice crossed,
supporting a mantle of ermine, with the
coronet of a count surmounting a shield,
around which were the collars of the Elephant
and of the Dannebrog. The official dignitary
was anxious to obtain the post of High Sheriff
of the Drontheimhus, and determined to make
the best of every chance. His advances met
with no response, for the illustrious unknown
would receive no one.
The second day of the traveler's arrival had
nearly drawn to its close, when the host
entered with a profound bow, saying that
the messenger expected by his courtesy had
arrived.
"Well," said his courtesy, "show him up,
then."
A moment afterward the messenger entered,
carefully closed the door, then bowing nearly
to the ground, he waited in respectful silence
until he should be addressed.
"I expected you this morning," said the
other. " What detained you ?"
" Your grace's interests, count. Have I any
other care ?"
" How is Elph^ge ? How is Frederick ?''
176
HAN OF ICELAND
" They are very well."
"Well, well," interrupted his master.
" Have you nothing more interesting to
impart to me? What news at Drontheim?"
" Nothing; except that the Baron of Thor-
wickarrived yesterday."
"Yes, I know that he wished to con¬
sult that old Mecklenburger, Levin, on this
projected marriage. Can you tell me what
was the result of his interview with the
governor?"
" At midday, when I left, he had not yet
seen the general."
" What! arrived the evening before. You
surprise me, Musdoemon. And has he seen
the countess?"
" No, my lord."
"You then must have come across him?"
" No, noble master, besides I do not know
him. "
" Well, if no one saw him, how did you
learn he was at Drontheim ?''
"From his servant, who came on to the
governor's palace."
" Where did he then dismount ?"
" His servant said that his master at once
left for Munckholm, after going into the
Spladgest."
" For Munckholm. For Schumacker's
prison. Are you certain?" exclaimed the
HAN OF ICELAND
177
count, angrily. "I always considered that
honest Levin was a traitor. For Munck-
holm ! What can be the attraction there ? Did
he go to consult Schumacker? Did he . . ."
" My noble lord," interrupted Musdoemon,
" there is no certainty that he went there at
all."
"What? Well, then, what have you been
saying ? Do you joke with me ?"
" Pardon, your grace, I simply repeated the
words of the baron's servant. Lord Frederick,
who was on guard yesterday at the fortress,
asserts that he did not see the Baron
Ordener."
" A convincing proof, indeed. My son does
not know the viceroy's son. Ordener might
have gone incognito."
" Yes, my lord; but Lord Frederick denies
having seen any one."
The count grew calmer.
" That is different. My son asserts this,
does he?"
" He assured me the same thing three times,
and Lord Frederick's interests are those of
your grace."
This remark completely allayed the count's
anxiety.
" Ah !" said he, " I understand. The baron
on arriving fancied a sail on the gulf, and his
servant jumped to the conclusion that he had
178
HAN OF ICELAND
gone to Munckholm. Besides, what could he
want there? I alarmed myself needlessly.
This carelessness about seeing old Levin proves
that my son-in-law's affection for him is not so
great as I imagined. You will scarcely believe
it, my dear Musdoemon," continued the count,
with a smile, " that I already fancied Ordener
was in love with Ethel Schumacher, and I at
once built quite a romantic intrigue upon this
trip to Munckholm. But, thank Heaven!
Ordener is not so foolish as I am. With regard
to this young Danse, how does Frederick get
on with her ?''
Musdcemon had conceived the same idea
as his master concerning Ethel Schumacher,
without being able to set them aside so easily.
However, he was delighted to see his master
smile, and he took great care not to disturb
his serenity j on the contrary, he tried to better
this good humor, the good humor of the great
which is a boon to their favorites.
" Noble count, your son has failed with
Schumacher's daughter, but it appears that
another has been more fortunate."
The count hastily interrupted him.
" Another ? what other ?''
" Oh! some serf, peasant, or vassal."
"Are you sure?" exclaimed the count,
whose hard and gloomy face had become
radiant.
HAN OF ICELAND
179
" Lord Frederick affirmed it, so has the
countess."
The count walked about the room rubbing
his hands.
" Musdoemon, my dear Musdoemon, one
more effort, and we shall accomplish our end
The shoot of the tree withered, we have but
to overthrow the trunk. Have you any more
good news?"
"Dispolsen has been murdered."
The count's face cleared entirely.
" Ah, you see one triumph succeeds another.
Have they his papers ? and, above all this iron
casket ?''
"I regret to say, your grace, that the murder
was not committed by any of our people. He
was assassinated and robbed on Urchtal Sands,
and the crime is attributed to Han of Ice¬
land."
" Han of Iceland," replied his master, whose
countenance again became overcast. "What,
that famous brigand that we are anxious to
place at the head of the insurgents?"
" Himself, noble count; and from what I
have heard we shall have some trouble to find
him. In any case, I have found a man who
will take his post, and also his name. He is
a savage mountaineer, tall and strong as an
oak, fierce and bold as a wolf in the snowy
desert. It is impossible that so formidable
i8o
HAN OF ICELAND
a giant should not resemble Han of Ice¬
land."
"This Han of Iceland," asked the count,
" is he then very tall ?"
"That is the popular belief, your grace."
" I can but always admire, my dear Musdoe-
mon, the art you display in making your plans.
When does the insurrection burst forth ?''
" Oh! very soon, your grace, at this
moment perhaps. The royal tax has long dis¬
pleased the miners, and they are eager for
revolt. The first rise will be at Guldbranshal,
will extend to Sund-Moer, thence to Konigs-
berg. In three days two thousand miners can
be assembled; then the name of Schumacker
will be their watchword; our emissaries have
freely made known the same. The reserve
forces from the south and the garrisons of
Drontheim and Skongen will march forward.
With their help you can readily quell this
rebellion. The king will be grateful to you
for this new and distinguished service, and for
ridding him of this Schumacker, who is a con¬
stant source of anxiety to his majesty. This
is the firm basis on which the whole structure
is raised, which is to be completed by the
marriage of the noble Lady Ulrica with the
Baron of Thorwick.''
When two rascals hold any private conver¬
sation, it is never of long duration, because
HAN OF ICELAND
l8l
there is just enough manhood left to recoil
from each other's villainy. Corrupted minds,
when laid bare, themselves, revolt at the
hideous spectacle. Crime shocks crime.
When two evil spirits mutually confide their
passions, their pleasures, and their interests,
each one sees his own reflection, as it were, in
a mirror. Their baseness humiliates them;
every frightful coincidence finds an echo
which never ceases to ring in their ears.
However secret their interview may be, there
are always two witnesses—God, whom they
do not see; and conscience, which they
feel.
The count dreaded these interviews with
Musdcemon, because the latter never spared
his master—he made him a party in every
crime and every enterprise. The best courtiers
spare their rulers even the appearance of evil
by taking all on themselves, leaving to the
great man the semblance of ignorance of a
crime profitable to himself. Musdcemon,
however, acted quite in a contrary way. He
apparently rarely counseled his master, and
always obeyed him. He knew the inmost
depths of his master's soul, and the count
knew his, and if compromised both should
share in the blame. The head the count
would most gladly have seen fall, after Schu¬
macher's, would have been Musdoemon's;
I82
HAN OF ICELAND
the latter was well aware of this, and his
master knew that he knew it.
The count had learned what he wished to
know. He was satisfied, it only remained for
him to dismiss Musdcemon.
"Musdoemon," said he, with a gracious
smile, "you are the most faithful and zealous
of servants. All goes well, thanks to your
care. I appoint you private secretary to the
Grand Chancery division."
Musdcemon bowed profoundly.
"This is not all," continued the count,
" I am going, for the third time, to ask for
the Order of the Dannebrog for you; but I
am always afraid that your birth, your base
parentage ..."
Musdcemon flushed, then turned pale, and
hid his discomfiture by bowing again.
" Go then," said the count, presenting him
his hand to kiss, "go, master private secre¬
tary, and write out your placeat. It may find
the king this time in a good humor."
" Whether his majesty grant it or not, I
feel most honored by your grace's boun¬
ties."
" Hurry, my friend, for I am anxious to
leave. You must try to obtain more precise
information about Han of Iceland."
Musdcemon, after a third bow, half-opened
the door.
HAN OF ICELAND
"Ah," said the count, " I was forgetting.
In your new position as private secretary,
write to the grand chancery court, in order
that the syndic of Loevig may be dismissed
from his post, for compromising his rank by
cringing before strangers with whose position
he is unacquainted."
XIV.
The holy man who visits the shrine at midnight.
The cavalier who subdues a fiery charger,
Those who die to the dreaded sound of the
trumpet,
Those who die to the gentle murmur of prayers.
Are the objects of his care, prodigal alike
To the pious man, be he under a casquet or
tonsure.
Hymn to Saint Anselme.
" Yes, master, we certainly ought to make
a pilgrimage to the grotto of Lynrass. Could
one have credited that the hermit I was curs¬
ing as an evil spirit would be our guardian
angel, and that the lance which seemed to
threaten our lives would serve as a bridge to
carry us across the precipice ?"
Benignus Spiagudry gave vent to his joy in
Ordener's ears, in these burlesque terms ot
gratitude and admiration for the mysterious
hermit. Our travelers had left the Accursed
Tower, and had advanced some distance from
the village of Vygla. The difficulties of their
steep and marshy way had been increased by
heavy stones which the torrents had sent down
from the hills. The day had not yet dawned,
184
HAN OF ICELAND
but the bushes which crowned the rocks on
each side of the way seemed dark objects cut
in the sky, whose grayish hue pierces the
bleak fogs of the morning.
Ordener was silent, for he was in that
drowsy state which sometimes comes over
pedestrians. He had not slept since the even¬
ing before, when he had taken a few hours'
rest on a fisherman's bark on leaving the
Spladgest for Drontheim. He was journeying
to Skongen, but his thoughts had fled across
the Gulf of Drontheim to that dark prison
whose gloomy towers contained the only being
in whom was centred all his hopes of happi¬
ness. Ethel's face was ever before him,
waking and in dreams. He was now in a
second kind of sleep, when all that is earthly
seems to vanish, and his well-beloved was no
less beautiful and pure, but free, happy, and
more his own.
But on the road to Skongen this complete
forgetfulness of self was not possible, for his
steps were impeded from time to time by a
quagmire, a stone, or a broken branch, recall¬
ing him from the ideal to the realities of life.
Then he would half-open his weary eyes, and
regret to set aside the heavenly journey for a
toil over miserable roads, with nothing to
console him for fancies past but the tress of
Ethel's hair, resting near his heart.
HAN OF ICELAND
" Master," cried Spiagudry, in a loud voice,
which, coupled with stumbling over the trunk
of a fallen tree, roused Ordener, " fear noth¬
ing; the archers, under the hermit's guid¬
ance, have gone forward to the right, and we
are not within ear-shot. It is true that until
now silence has really been imperative."
"Indeed," said Ordener, yawning, "you
carry prudence rather far. It is at least three
hours since we left the tower and the archers."
"That is true, master; but prudence huits
no one. What would have become of me if I
had answered the chief of that infernal band
by saying, ' I am Benignus Spiagudry ?' His
voice was like that of satan demanding his
new-born son in order to devour him. If at
that terrible moment I had not had resource
to a prudent taciturnity, where would I be
now, noble master?"
" By my faith, old man, I do not think at
that moment it was possible for any one to
make you give up your name, even had they
employed red-hot pincers."
"Was I wrong, master? Had I spoken,
the hermit—may Saint Hospice and the Saint
Solitary bless him—^would not have had the
time to ask the chief of the archers if his escort
were not part of the Munckholm garrison, a
trivial question, only to gain time. Did you
notice with what a curious smile the hermit
HAN OF ICELAND
187
accepted the archer's sleepy reply, and invited
them to follow him, saying he knew the fugitive
Benignus Spiagudry's place of concealment?"
The guardian paused a moment as though
to take a spring, for he again burst forth with
increased enthusiasm:
" Good priest, worthy anchorite, practicing
the principles of humanity and evangelical
charity. And to think I was at first alarmed
at his appearance, somewhat sinister certainly,
when it concealed a heart so kind. Did you
notice anything singular in the way he said to
me on leaving with the archers, 'We shall
meet again?' Solitude may give a strange
ring to the voice, for, my lord," here Benig¬
nus almost whispered, " I know another soli¬
tary creature, that formidable being . . .
But no, out of respect to that venerable hermit
of Lynrass, I will draw no odious comparisons.
His gloves—well, there is nothing extraordi¬
nary in wearing them when the weather is
" cold. His sea-water draught—I need not be
astonished at that, for Catholic recluses have
often singular rules, according to the cele¬
brated verses of Urensius, the hermit of the
Caucasus:
'Rivos despiciens, maris undampotat amaram.^
I wish these lines had recurred to me in
that horrible ruin of Vygla; I might have
i88
HAN OF ICELAND
spared myself many false alarms. But who
could collect his thoughts when seated at the
hangman's board?—a creature held up to
general execration, who only differs from the
assassin by the frequency of his murders and
his impunity from all consequences, combining
all the atrocities of the brigand, without the
bravery which the latter must display in his
adventurous career; a being who offers you
food and drink with the same hand with
which he uses instruments of torture, and
crushes the bones of his wretched victims
between the thumbscrews and the boot. The
vilest mendicant throws aside his rags with
horror, if they have been defiled by this
impure contact. When the chancellor signs
his appointment, he flings it under the table
in token of disgust. In France, should an
executioner die, the sergeant of the provost
would rather pay a fine of forty pounds than
succeed him. At Pesth the condemned crim¬
inal Chorchill, when offered his pardon, with
post of executioner, chose to be the victim in
preference to being the hangman. Is it not
notorious, noble young sir, that Turmeryn,
Bishop of Maestricht, ordered a church to be
purified because the headsman had entered it.
Czarina Petrovna washed her face after each
time she was compelled to witness an execu¬
tion. You know that the kings of France
HAN OF ICELAND
189
never degraded their soldiers, however crim¬
inal, by condemning them to be put to death
by the executioner. And, finally, that is
decisive, in the ' Descent of Saint George into
Hades,' by the savant Melasius Iturham.
Does not Charon rate the brigand Robin
Hood as the superior of Phlipcrass the heads¬
man? Truly, master, if ever I come into
power, I will suppress that functionary and
re-establish the old custom of fines. For the
murder of a prince, they should pay, as in
1150, fourteen hundred and forty royal double
crowns; for the murder of a count, fourteen
hundred and forty single crowns; for that of
a baron, fourteen hundred and forty half
crowns; the murder of a simple noble would
be taxed fourteen hundred and forty ascalins;
and that of a bourgeois ..."
" Do I not hear the tramp of a horse behind
us?" interrupted Ordener.
They turned round, and, as day had
appeared during the long scientific soliloquy
of Spiagudry, they could distinguish, about a
hundred yards distant, a horseman, clothed in
black, mounted on one of the small Norwe¬
gian ponies, who was waving his hand to
them.
"For Heaven's sake, master!" said the
timid Spiagudry, " let us push on. This man
has all the appearance of an archer."
190
HAN OF ICELAND
" What! old man, we are two, and would
you have us fly before one man ?''
" Alas ! twenty sparrow-hawks fly before one
owl. Where is the glory of waiting to be over¬
taken by an officer of justice?"
" And who says he is one ?" said Ordener,
fearlessly. " Reassure yourself, my bold guide;
I can see who it is.—Let us stop."
He had to yield, and ceased to tremble when
he recognized the calm grave face of Athanasius
Munder.
He greeted them with a smile, drew up, and
said, in a panting tone:
" My dear children, I have retraced my
steps on your account, and Heaven will no
doubt prevent my absence, as it is with a good
intent, from being prejudicial to those who
require my aid."
"Reverend sir," answered Ordener, "we
shall be happy to be of service to you."
" It is I, on the contrary, young man, who
would serve you. Would you inform me of
the object of your journey ?"
" Reverend chaplain, I cannot do so."
" I hope, my son, your denial means ina¬
bility, and not distrust. Unhappy the man
who is open to suspicion from his brethren
when seen but once."
The humility and impressiveness with which
the minister spoke moved Ordener deeply.
tIAK OF ICELAND
" All I can tell you, my father, is that we
are going to the northern mountains."
" That idea made me follow you. In
those mountains there are bands of miners
and hunters, a source of great danger to
travelers."
"Well?"
" Well,—I know it is useless to try and turn
a young man from a dangerous course, but my
esteem for you has suggested to me that I
may be of some service to you. The false
coiner to whom I offered yesterday the last
consolation had been a miner. He gave me
a parchment on which his name was written,
saying, this pass would be a safe conduct
throughout the mountains. Alas ! what use
can this be to a poor priest who will live and
die with prisoners ? besides, inter castra
latronum, one whose only defense should be
found in patient prayers. Heaven's only
weapons. I accepted the pass, as it is not
right to wound a man who in a few short
moments will neither give nor receive. The
good Lord has deigned to inspire me, for
to-day I am able to bring to you this parch¬
ment so that it may be with you in the dangers
of the journey, and the gift of the dying may
be a blessing to the traveler.''
Ordener received the old priest's present
with much emotion.
192 HAN OF ICELAND
"Reverend chaplain," said he, "may
Heaven listen to your prayers. I heartily
thank you; but," added he, grasping the hilt
of his sword, " I carry my free pass here."
"Young man," answered the priest, "per¬
haps this scrap of paper will protect you
better than your steel weapon. A penitent's
last look is of more avail than the Archangel's
sword. Adieu; my prisoners are waiting for
me. Be so good as to pray sometimes for
them and for me."
" Holy priest," returned Ordener, smiling,
" rest assured your prisoners shall be pardoned,
as I have already told you."
" Oh, my son, pray do not speak so posi¬
tively. Do not tempt Providence. A man can
never know another's inmost thoughts, and
you cannot tell what may be the decision of
the viceroy's son. Alas! he would never give
admittance to an humble chaplain. Adieu,
my son; may blessings attend your journey,
and may you sometimes give a thought to the
poor priest, and offer up a prayer for the
wretched prisoners."
XV.
Welcome, Hugo; tell me,—have you ever
seen such a terrible storm.
Maturin—Bertram.
In a room belonging to the apartments of
the governor of Drontheim, three of his
excellency's secretaries had just sat down
before a black table, loaded with parchments,
papers, seals and inkstands, near which a
fourth chair, empty, indicated that one of the
clerks was late. They had already, for some
time, been writing and thinking silently, when
one of them said :
"You know, Wapherney, that they say
this poor librarian Foxtipp is going to be
discharged by the bishop, thanks to the letter
of recommendation which you attached to the
petition of Doctor Anglyvius."
"Are you romancing with us, Richard?"
said the one of the two other secretaries that
Richard had not addressed. "Wapherney
could not have written in favor of Anglyvius,
for the man's petition offended the general
when I showed it to him."
193
194
HAN OF ICELAND
" You told me so, indeed," replied Wapher-
ney; " but I found on the petition the word
' tribuatur' in the hand of his excellency."
" Truly ?" cried the other.
" Yes, my friend j and many other decisions
of his excellency, of which you have spoken
to me, are likewise changed in the postscripts.
Thus, on the petition of the miners, the
general has written : ' negetur.' "
" What! I don't understand ; the general
fears the turbulent spirit of these miners."
" Perhaps he wished to frighten them by
severity. What makes me think so is that the
petition of the priest Munder for the twelve
condemned men is likewise negatived."
The secretary to whom Wapherney was
speaking, here rose suddenly.
" Oh, I cannot believe you. The governor
is very kind and showed much pity for these
condemned ..."
"Well, Arthur," said Wapherney, "read
for yourself."
Arthur took the petition and saw the fatal
sign of reprobation.
"Truly," said he, "I can hardly believe
my eyes. I would like to re-present the petition
to the general. On what day did his excel¬
lency postscript these ?''
"Oh!" replied Wapherney, "I believe
about three days ago."
HAN OF ICELAND
195
"It was," said Richard, "on the morning
which preceded the short visit and mysterious
disappearance of Baron Ordener."
" Well," cried Waphemey, quickly, before
Arthur had had time to respond, " if there is
not even 'tribuatur' on the ridiculous petition
of Benignus Spiagudry!"
Richard burst into laughter.
" Is not that the old guardian of the
corpses who likewise disappeared in such a
singular manner ?''
"Yes," replied Arthur; "they found in
his charnel-house a mutilated corpse; that
kind of thing justice punishes as a sacrilege.
But a little Lap, who was his servant and who
is now the only person in the Spladgest, thinks,
with all the townspeople, that the devil has
carried him for a sorcerer."
" So much," said Wapherney, laughing,
" for a person who leaves a good reputation."
He subdued his laughter when the fourth
secretary entered.
"Upon my honor, Gustave, you are very
late this morning. You were, perchance, mar¬
ried yesterday ?''
" Oh ! no," said Wapherney, " he took the
longest road, so as to pass, with his new mantle,
under the windows of the lovely Bosily."
"Wapherney," said the new-comer, "I
would you were right. But the cause of
196
HAN OF ICELAND
my lateness is certainly less agreeable; and I
doubt if my new mantle has produced any
effect on the people I have just visited."
"Where do you come from, then?" asked
Arthur.
"From the Spladgest."
"God is my witness," cried Wapherney,
dropping his pen, " if we were not speaking
of it just now ! But one may speak of it for
a joke—I cannot conceive how one can
enter."
"And still less," said Richard, "how one
can stay there. But, my dear Gustave, what
did you see there?"
"Yes," said Gustave, "you are curious, if
not to see, at least to hear about it; and you
would be well punished if I refused to describe
to you the horrors, at which you would shudder
to assist."
The three secretaries urged Gustave, who
allowed himself to be entreated, although his
desire to relate to them what he had seen
was infinitely stronger than their desire to
hear.
"Very well, Wapherney, you can transmit
my story to your young sister, who is fond of
frightful things. I was led to the Spladgest
by the crowd which had gathered there.
They had just brought the corpse of three
soldiers of the Munckholm regiment, and of
HAN OF ICELAND
197
two archers, found yesterday four leagues in
the gorges, at the bottom of the precipice of
Carcadthymon. Some spectators assured me
that the unfortunates composed the squad,
sent three days ago, in the direction of
Skongen, in search of the fugitive guardian of
the Spladgest. If that is true, I cannot con¬
ceive how so many armed men have been
assassinated. The mutilation of the corpses
seems to prove that they have been thrown
from the top of the rocks. It makes one's
hair rise."
"What! Gustave, you have seen them?"
asked Wapherney excitedly.
" I have them still before my eyes."
" And do they suspect who are the authors
of this outrage ?''
"Some persons think that it might be a
band of miners, and assure us that they heard
yesterday, in the mountains, the sound of the
horn with which they signal."
"Really!" said Arthur.
"Yes, but an old peasant has destroyed this
idea in making the remark that there are
neither mines nor miners on the coast of
Carcadthymon."
" And who could it be then ?"
" They don't know; if the bodies were not
entire, we might believe that it was some
ferocious beasts, for they have on their limbs
198
HAN OF ICELAND
long and deep scratches. They are just the
same as on the corpse of the old man with the
white beard which was brought to the Splad-
gest the morning before yesterday, the result
of the frightful tragedy, which prevented you,
my dear Leandre Wapherney, going to visit,
on the other side of the gulf, your Hero of
the hills of Larsynn."
" Well! well! Gustave," said Wapherney,
laughing; "but what about this old man?"
" On account of his great height, his long
white beard, and a chaplet which he still clasps
in his hand, although he was found otherwise
absolutely naked, he is recognized, they say, as
a certain hermit of Lynrass. It is evident that
the poor man was likewise assassinated; but
for what object ? They no longer slaughter on
account of religious opinion, and the old
hermit possessed nothing in the world but
his woolen robe and the good will of the
public."
"And you say," replied Richard, "that
this body is torn, like those of the soldiers,
by the claws of a ferocious beast ?''
" Yes, my friend; and a fisherman swears
that he noticed similar traces on the body of
an officer, found assassinated, some days ago,
on the Sands of Urchtal."
"That is singular," said Arthur.
" It is frightful," said Richard.
HAN OF ICELAND
199
"Come," replied Wapherney, "silence
and work, for I believe the general will soon
return. My dear Gustave, I am very curious
to see these bodies; if you are willing, this
evening, as we go out, we will enter the
Spladgest for a moment."
XVI.
While she within her lowly cot, which grac'd
The Alpine slope, beside the waters wild
Her homely cares in that small world embrac'd,
Secluded liv'd, a simple, artless child.
Was't not enough, in thy delirious whirl.
To blast the steadfast rocks ?
Her, and her peace as well.
Must I, God-hated one, to ruin hurl!
Dost claim this holocaust, remorseless Hell!
Goethe—Faust.
In 1675, twenty-four years before the com¬
mencement of this history, alas ! a charming
festival took place in the village of Thoctree,
on the occasion of the gentle Lucy Pelnyrh's
marriage with the tall, handsome and worthy
yotmg man Caroll Stadt. One can truly
say that they had loved each other for a
long time, and who could fail to be interested
in two such ardent lovers, whose hopes of
happiness were about to be realized? Born
in the same village, working together in the
same fields, often Caroll in his childhood had
fallen asleep and rested his head on Lucy's
shoulder. When they grew older, on return¬
ing from work, Lucy leaned upon Caroll's
zoo
HAN OP ICELAND
20I
arm. Lucy was the most timid and at the
same time the prettiest girl in the country.
Caroll was the bravest and most noble fellow
in the canton; they loved, and they could no
more recollect the time they had not been
lovers than the day on which they came into
existence.
But the marriage had not been compassed
without some opposition. There were points
of domestic interest, family feuds, and several
other obstacles, so that for one entire year
they were separated from each other. Caroll,
thus parted from his Lucy, had suffered much,
while Lucy shed many tears at her separation
from Caroll before the happy day arrived
when they were united never more to suffer
or weep except together.
It was by saving her from great danger that
Caroll at length won Lucy. ' One day he
heard shrieks proceeding from the forest.
They came from Lucy, who had been surprised
by a brigand, the terror of all mountaineers.
When Caroll arrived on the spot, this man
was bearing her away. Caroll attacked this
monster with a human face, who, from the
singular roars that he made, resembling those
of a wild beast, was called by the name of
Han. Yes; Caroll struggled with a creature
whom all others avoided, for love gave him
the strength of a lion. He rescued his beloved
*
HAN OF ICELAN^>
Lucy, restored her to her father, who in turn
gave him her hand.
Thus, all the villagers rejoiced on the day
on which the union took place. Lucy alone
seemed sad. Never had she cast so tender a
look upon Caroll; but that look was as sad as
it was tender, and, in the universal gayety, a
subject of much wonderment. From time to
time as her husband's joy increased, she
became more pensive. "Oh, my Lucy!"
exclaimed Caroll, after the holy ceremony,
"the presence of that villain, which means
sorrow for all who meet him, has been the
source of my happiness." Some remarked
that she shook her head, but said nothing.
Evening came; the newly-married pair
retired to their new cottage, while dancing
and rejoicing went on gayly upon the village
green to celebrate the happiness of the bride
and groom. The next morning Caroll Stadt
had disappeared; a few lines in his hand¬
writing had been brought to Lucy's father by
a hunter from the Kole Mountains, who had
met the bridegroom at daylight wandering
about the shores of the gulf. Old Will Pelnyrh
showed the letter to the pastor and the syndic,
and the festival of the previous day was followed
by gloom all around, and Lucy's mute despair.
This mysterious catastrophe threw the whole
village into consternation, and the inhabitants
HAN OF ICELAND
203
vainly endeavored to conjecture the cause.
Prayers for the repose of Caroll's soul were
said in the same church where he^ a few days
previously, had joined in the nuptial hymn.
After nine months had passed in solitude and
mourning, the Widow Stadt gave birth to a son,
and that same day the village of Golyn was
destroyed by the fall of an overhanging rock.
The birth of this son did not alleviate his
mother's grief. Gill Stadt in no way resembled
Caroll. His fierceness as a child gave promise
of more desperate deeds. Sometimes a wild-
looking little man—whom the mountaineers
asserted was Han of Iceland—came to Widow
Stadt's deserted cottage, and passers-by could
then distinctly hear a woman's plaintive cry,
mingled with the roars of a wild beast. The
man took away young Gill, and after some
months restored him to his mother, looking
more gloomy and savage than ever.
Widow Stadt's feeling for this child was
one of mingled tenderness and horror. Some¬
times she would press him to her heart as a
mother would her sole interest in life, and
again she would repulse him, and call upon
her Caroll, her own Caroll, to come to her.
No one could understand what secret grief
oppressed her.
Gill had attained his twenty-third year
when he met Guth Sterson, and fell desperately
204
HAN OF ICELAND
in love with her. Guth was rich, and he
was poor. Then, he left for Rceraas, to
become a miner, in order to gain money.
Since then his mother had never heard of
him.
One night as she was sitting at her spin¬
ning wheel, her only means of livelihood, her
lamp had burnt low, and the widow was
thinking of her son she longed to see. The
poor mother loved her boy despite his ingrati¬
tude. How could she help loving him;
when she had suffered for him so greatly ?
She opened a cupboard, and took up a
crucifix covered with dust. For a moment
she cast a supplicating glance toward it, then
suddenly thrust it aside with horror. " Pray!"
she cried, "how can I pray? Wretched
creature ! you can only pray to Satan, for it is
to hell you belong!''
She relapsed into her gloomy reverie, when
a knock at the door roused her.
This was a rare event at the Widow Stadt's;
for, thanks to the extraordinary life she led,
the inhabitants of Thoctree had for many
years considered her in league with the infer¬
nal spirits. Strange superstition of this
century and this ignorant country. Misfortune
had gained for her the same reputation for
sorcery as science had done for the guardian
of the Spladgest.
HAN OF ICELAND
205
" If it were my son. If it were Gill 1" cried
she, and she sprang to the door.
Alas ! it was not her son. It was only a
little hermit, clothed in a robe of coarse cloth,
the hood of which concealed everything but
a black beard.
"Holy man," said the widow, "what do
you want? You do not know in whose
house you have sought entrance."
" Certainly I do," replied the hermit, in a
harsh and too well-known voice.
And, tearing off his gloves, his black beard,
and throwing back his hood, he disclosed a
hideous face, a red beard, and hands armed
with hideous claws.
"Oh!" shrieked the widow, and buried
her face in her hands.
"Well!" cried the little man, " have you
not in four-and-twenty years become accus¬
tomed to the husband you will see through all
eternity ?''
She muttered, horror-stricken, " Eternity!"
" Listen, Lucy Pelnyrh; I bring you news
of your son."
"Of my son! where is he? why does he
not return ?"
"He cannot."
" But you have some news. Alas ! I will
forgive you much if you can bring me this
happiness."
2o6
han of iceland
" I bring you happiness, indeed, that I
bring you," said the man, in a hollow voice;
" for you are but a weak woman, and it
astonishes me you could have brought forth
such a son. Rejoice, then. You feared your
son would walk in my footsteps; fear it no
longer.''
"What!" exclaimed the delighted mother;
'' my son, my beloved Gill, has then changed.''
The hermit greeted her joy with a sardonic
laugh.
" Oh 1 much changed," said he.
" Why does he not hasten to embrace me ?
Where did you see him? what was he doing?"
" He was sleeping."
The widow, in her extreme joy, never
remarked the jeering tone, nor the horrible
raillery of the little man.
"Why did you not awake him? saying
' Gill, go to your mother ?' ''
" His slumber was too deep."
"Oh! when shall I see him?" said she.
" Tell me, I entreat you, will he be here soon ?"
The false hermit drew from beneath his robe
a sort of cup of singular shape.
" Well, widow," said he, " drink to your
son's speedy return."
The widow shrieked with horror. It was a
human skull. She thrust forth her hands, but
her tongue was paralyzed.
Han of iceland
" No, no !" cried the man in a terrible voice,
" do not turn away your eyes. Woman, look !
You asked to see your son; behold all that
remains of him."
In the red light of the lamp he held out the
bare and polished skull of her son.
This poor heart had borne too many sorrows
for one more to break it. She raised to the
fierce hermit a fixed and stupid look.
" Oh 1 dead!" she feebly murmured, "dead.
Let me die."
" Die if you wish, but remember, Lucy
Pelnyrh, the Thoctree Forest, remember the
day upon which the demon, in seizing your
body, gave your soul to hell! I am the
demon, Lucy, and you are my spouse to all
eternity. However, die if you wish."
In these superstitious countries people be¬
lieved that evil spirits came among men and
passed a life of crime, bringing calamity with
them. Among other famous criminals, Han
of Iceland had attained this appalling renown.
It was also believed that if a woman by seduc¬
tion or violence fell a prey to these demons in
human form, she was doomed for all eternity
to be his companion.
The widow was recalled to her senses by
the details of these past events.
" Alas!" she mournfully exclaimed, " I can¬
not then escape even with the end of existence.
Ban of iceland
What did I do ? Ah ! my well-beloved Caroll,
you know I was innocent. What was a young
girl's strength compared to that of a demon ?"
She continued j her looks were full of mad¬
ness ; the incoherence of her speech was in¬
creased by the convulsive trembling of her
lips.
" Yes, Caroll, I never deceived you, but the
demon held me as his own. Alas ! I shall be
punished to all eternity ! No, I shall never
join you again, you whom I never ceased to
mourn. What is the good of dying ? I must
even then go with this monster to a world
peopled with miscreants like himself. What
have I done ? My misfortunes will be held
for crimes in all life to come."
The hermit cast looks of triumph and
authority upon her.
" Ah !" cried she, turning to him, " this is
but some fearful dream, inspired by your pres¬
ence j for you well know that since the day
of my loss, every night in which your spirit
has visited me has been marked by hideous
and terrible visions."
" Woman ! woman ! return to reason. It
is as true as you are awake tliat Gill is dead."
The remembrance of her former misfor¬
tunes had for the moment effaced the mother's
present trouble; these words recalled her to
her loss.
HAN OF ICELAND 209
" Oh! my son ! my son !" she cried, in her
agony, which would have touched the heart of
any but the fiend who listened to her. " No,
he will return; he is not dead; I cannot
believe he is dead."
" Well, then, go and ask the rocks of
Roeraas, that crushed him; ask the Gulf of
Drontheim, which buried him."
The widow fell on her knees, and with an
effort she cried :
"God! great God!"
" Silence ! servant of satan."
The wretched woman ceased, and he con¬
tinued :
" No longer doubt that your son is dead.
He was punished in the same way as his father
was before him. He let his heart, which
should have been as hard as granite, be
softened by a woman. I have possessed
you, but I never loved you. My son has
been deceived by the woman for whom he
died."
"Dead!" cried she, "dead! Is it then
true? Oh, Gill! child of my misfortune,
nursed in mourning, never did your caresses
respond to mine, my embraces met with no
return. You always repulsed and fled from
your mother—your poor, lonely mother. You
made me forget my past sorrows by creating
fresh ones. You left me for the demon, the
2IO
HAN OF ICELAND
author of your existence and my widow¬
hood. Gill, you never caused me to feel a
single joy, and yet your death seems to me
the most unbearable of all my afflictions.
Now his memory seems to me a consolation,
alas."
She could say no more, she buried her face
in her black veil, and sobbed most piteously.
"Weak woman!" muttered the hermit.
Then he exclaimed: " Conquer your grief,
as I have crushed mine. Listen, Lucy Peln)rrh,
you weep for your son j I am already aveng¬
ing him. His betrothed deceived him for a
soldier of Munckholm garrison. The whole
regiment shall perish at my hands. Behold,
Lucy Pelnyrh!"
He threw back his sleeves and showed the
widow his deformed and blood-stained arms.
"Yes!" he cried, with a kind of a roar,
"on Urchtal Sands and the gorges of Car-
cadthymon Gill's spirit can joyfully wander.
Come, woman! look on this blood, and con¬
sole yourself."
Suddenly recollecting himself, he exclaimed:
" Widow, has any one brought to you from
me an iron casket ? What, I sent you gold
and I bring you blood, and still you weep!
You cannot belong to the human race."
The widow, absorbed in her grief, kept
silence.
HAN OF ICELAND
311
"What!" said he, with a savage laugh,
" mute and immovable ! Why, you cannot be
a woman, Lucy Pelnyrh !" He grasped her
arm to attract her attention. " Did any one
bring you a sealed iron casket ?"
The widow, with a passing show of atten¬
tion, gave a negative sign with her head, and
relapsed into her gloomy thoughts.
"Ah, the wretch! the faithless wretch!"
cried the little man. " Spiagudry ! that gold
shall cost you dear !"
And, casting his hermit's robe aside, he
rushed from the cottage with a growl like that
of a hyena in search of prey.
XVll.
My lord, I tear my hair, I tear it weeping,
because you leave me alone, and you go away
into the mountains.
La Dame au Comte—Romance.
Ethel, meanwhile, had already counted four
long and monotonous days since she wandered
alone in the sombre garden of the donjon of
Sleswigj alone in the oratorio, witness of
many tears and confidant of many hopes;
alone in the long gallery, where, once, she did
not hear the midnight bell. Her old father
accompanied her sometimes, but she was not
the less alone, for the true companion of her
life was absent.
Unhappy young girl! What had this young
and piu"e soul done to be already the victim
of so much misfortune? Accustomed to the
world, to honors, riches, the joys of youth, and
the triumphs of beauty, she was still in her
cradle when taken to prison; captive beside a
captive father, she had grown up seeing him
decay; and to complete her misfortunes, for
she knew no other slavery, love had come to
find her in her prison.
212
HAN OF ICELAND
213
Still, if she could have seen her Ordener
beside her, what would liberty have been to
her? Had she only known what a world
separated them. And besides, her world, her
heaven; were they not with her here in this
donjon, under the black towers bristling with
soldiers, towards which the passer-by threw
not the least look of pity ?
But, alas! for the second time, her Ordener
was absent; and, instead of shortening the
hours by recollection of the caresses and em¬
braces, she passed the nights and the days
weeping for his absence, and praying for him.
For a widow has nothing but her prayers and
her tears.
Sometimes she envied the wings of the
swallow which came for food to the window
of her prison. Sometimes she allowed her
thoughts to soar in the clouds which came
down rapidly from the north; then sud¬
denly she would turn her head and cover
her eyes, as if she feared to see the gigantic
brigand appear, and the unequal combat
begin.
Oh, how cruel it is to love when one is
separated from the being one adores! Few
hearts have known this sorrow in all its
force, few hearts have known love in all its
depth. When, stranger in a manner to
one's own existence, a mournful solitude, an
214
HAN OF ICELAND
immense void, and, for the absent one, I know
not what fear of perils, of monsters and of
deceptions; the different faculties which form
our nature change and lose themselves in an
infinite desire for the being we miss; all
which surrounds us is out of our life. Mean¬
while one breathes, one walks, one moves, but
without thought. Like a strayed planet which
has lost its sun, the body moves at random;
the soul is elsewhere.
XVIII.
On a lai^e boulder these stem chiefs
Dared hell urith frightful vows;
Near a black bull which they had just slaugh¬
tered,
All, with their hands in the blood, swearing
vengeance.
Let Sept Chefs devant Thlies,
The coast of Norway so abounds in bays,
creeks, reefs, lakes, and little capes, that they
fatigue the traveler's memory and try the
topographer's patience. Formerly, according
to popular belief, every isthmus was haunted
by some demon, every promontory had its
guardian angel, for superstition mingles all
beliefs, in order to add to its terrors. On
the shores of Kelvel, some miles to the north
of the grotto of Walderhog, the only spot it
was said entirely free from the jurisdiction of
spirits, either infernal or celestial. It was a
meadow adjoining a river and sheltered by
the rocks, on which could be seen the ruins
of the castle of Ralph or Radulph the Giant.
This wild little field, running down to the
sea, and surrounded by rocks covered with
2IS
2i6
han of iceland
heather, owed its privilege to the name of an
ancient Norwegian sire, its first possessor.
What fairy, demon or angel, would dare to
reside in a domain formerly occupied and
protected by Ralph the Giant ?
It is true that the name alone was sufficient
to stamp the place, but a remembrance is not
like a living spirit, and fishermen when over¬
taken by a storm would moor their barks in
Ralph the Giant's Creek, and they had never
seen the corpse-light gleam and glimmer, nor
the fairy skim the heath in his flaming car,
drawn by glow-worms, nor the saint ascend
to the moon after his prayers.
If, for instance, the night after the storm,
the surf of the sea and the heavy wind had
permitted any mariner to take shelter in the
bay, his superstitious fears might have been
roused on seeing three men seated round a fire
blazing in the midst of the meadow. Two of
them wore the large felt hats and loose trou¬
sers of the royal miners. Their arms were
bare to the shoulder, they had on tan-colored
high boots, and a belt of red cloth sus¬
tained their curved sabres and pistols. Both
had a bugle horn slung from the neck. One
was an old and the other a young man. The
elder's thick beard and the long floating locks
of the younger, gave a wild expression to their
faces, naturally hard and severe.
HAN OF ICELAND
217
From the bearskin cap, greasy leather coat,
tight breeches, the musket slung across his
back, the axe gleaming in his hand, the bare
knees, the bark sandals, it was easy to
recognize in the companion of the two
miners a mountaineer from the north of
Norway.
Certainly, whoever had perceived from afar
these three singular figures, upon whom the
fire fanned by the ocean breezes, threw red
and changing glare, could in good reason be
frightened, without even believing in spectres
or demons; it would be sufficient for him to
believe in robbers and to be a little richer
than a poet.
The three men frequently turned their
heads toward the woods adjoining Ralph's
clearing, and from the few words that could
be heard it appeared they were awaiting the
arrival of a fourth person.
"I say, Kennybol, we should not remain
so undisturbed at this hour if we were waiting
for Count Griffenfeld's messenger in a neigh¬
boring field, owned by Im Tulbytilbet, or
over there in Saint Cuthbert's Bay."
"Do not speak so loudly, Jonas," said the
mountaineer to the old miner. "A blessing
on Ralph the Giant, for protecting us! May
Heaven preserve me from setting foot in
Tulbytilbet meadow. The other day I went
HAN OF ICELAND
to pick some hawthorn there and I took man-
dragora by mistake, which began to bleed and
scream, enough to drive me mad."
The younger man laughed.
"In faith, Kennybol! I believe the man-
dragora has had an effect on your poor, weak
brain."
"Weak brain, indeed!" said the moun¬
taineer, angrily. " Why, Jonas, he is ridiculing
the idea of the mandragora. He laughs like
an idiot when playing with a skull."
"Hum!" said Jonas. "Let him go to
Walderhog Grotto, where the spirits of those
murdered by Han of Iceland dance round his
bed of dried leaves, gnashing their teeth to
lull him to sleep."
"That is true," added the mountaineer.
"But," asked the young man, "Master
Hacket, for whom we are waiting, promised
us that Han of Iceland should put himself at
the head of our insurrection?"
"So he promised," replied Kennybol;
"and with the help of this demon we are sure
to conquer all the green jackets sent from
Drontheim and Copenhagen."
"So much the better!" exclaimed the old
miner; "but I will not volunteer to be the
sentinel on duty at night near his quarters."
At that moment a rustling among the brush¬
wood attracted the speaker's attention. They
HAN OF ICELAND
turned round, and by the light from the fire
they recognized the new-comer.
" It is he—it is Master Racket! Welcome,
Master Racket; we have been waiting for
you ; we have been over three-quarters of an
hour at the meeting place."
This Master Hacket was a short, stout-built
man, dressed in black, whose jovial looking
countenance had a sinister expression.
" Well, my friends," said he, " I have been
delayed by my ignorance of the way, and by
the precautions it was necessary for me to
take. I left Count Schumacker this morning.
Rere are three purses well filled with gold,
which he requested me to give you."
The two elder men seized the money with
avidity; the younger miner rejected the purse
which Racket offered him.
" Keep your gold. Master Envoy; I should
lie if I said I rebelled for your Count Sch<i-
macker. I do so to free the miners from the
royal tax; I revolt because my mother's bed
has nothing more than a coverlet less rough
than the coast of our good country, Norway."
Far from being disconcerted, Master Racket
replied smilingly:
"I will then send this money to your
mother, my dear Norbith, so that she may
have fresh covering to protect herself from the
winter's blasts."
«
220
HAN OF ICELAND
The young man bowed his acquiescence,
and the envoy, clever orator, hastened to add:
" But take care not to repeat what you have
so inconsiderately said : that it is not for
Schumacher, Count of Griffenfeld, that you
are taking up arms."
" However, however," replied the two elder
men, "we know well that the miners are
oppressed, but we know nothing of this
count, this State prisoner."
"What !" quickly returned the envoy,
" how can you be so ungrateful ? You were
groaning in your subterraneous caves, deprived
of light and air, robbed of all your property,
and the slaves of a heavy tax. Who came to
your help, who animated your courage, and
gave you gold and arms? Was it not my
illustrious master, the noble Count of Griffen¬
feld, who is more unfortunate than yourselves ?
And now, although accepting his benefits, you
refuse to assist him to regain his liberty at the
same time as you do your own."
"You are right," said the young miner;
" it would be acting unjustly."
"Yes, Master Hacket," added the two old
men, " we will fight for Count Schumacher."
" Courage, my friends; rise in his name,
let your benefactor's name be widely spread
from one end of Norway to the other.
Listen, everything favors your enterprise. You
HAN OF ICELAND
a2i
will soon be rid of a formidable enemy,
General Levin de Knud, the governor of this
province. By my noble master, the Count of
Griffenfeld's secret influence, he will at any
moment be recalled to Berghen. Come, tell
me, Kennybol, Jonas, and you, my dear
Norbith, are all your comrades ready for
action?"
"My brethren of Guldbranshal," said
Norbith, " only await my signal. To-morrow
if you wish . . ."
" To-morrow, then; let it be so. The
young miners, of whom you are the chief,
must be the first to raise the standard. And
you, my brave Jonas ?''
" Six hundred brave hearts from the Faroe
Isles, who have been living for the last three
days on chamois flesh and bear's grease in the
forest of Bennallag, and only await a blast
from the horn of their old captain, Jonas, of
the borough of Lcevig."
" Very good; and you, Kennybol?"
"All those who carry an axe in the gorges
of Kole, and scale the rocks bare-kneed are
ready to join their brother miners when they
need them."
" That is well. Let your companions know
that victory is certain." Here the envoy
raised his voice. " Announce to them that
Han of Iceland will be their leader."
222
HAN OF ICELAND
"Is that really the case?" exclaimed the
three miners, in a tone of mingled hope and
terror.
The envoy replied:
"I will meet you with your conurades four
days hence at the same hour in the mine of
Apsyl-Corh, near Lake Smiasen, under the Blue
Star. Han of Iceland will accompany me.' *
"We will be there," answered the three
chiefs. " May Heaven not forsake those who
are led on by the demon."
" Heaven will never give you cause to
fear," saidHacket,sneeringly. "Listen. You
will find in the old ruins of Crag some ban¬
ners for your troops. Do not forget the
rallying-cry: ^Long live Schumacher ! Let
us save Schumacher !' We must separate, for
dawn will not be long in appearing. First
swear to me that you will keep secret all that
has passed between us."
Without a word the three chiefs pricked a vein
in the left arm with the points of their sabres;
then, seizing the envoy's hand, they each let a
few drops fall from the wound upon it.
" You have our blood," said they to him.
Then the young miner cried :
" May all my blood run out as I swear at
this moment, may an evil spirit meddle with
my projects, may my arm be lead to avenge
an injury, may bats inhabit my sepulchre, may
HAN OF ICELAND
223
I, living, be haunted by the dead; dead, pro¬
faned by the living; may my eyes melt into
tears like a woman's if ever I speak of what
has taken place at this hour in Ralph the
Giant's meadow. May the glorious saints
deign to listen to me."
" Amen," repeated the old men.
Then they separated, and nothing remained
to indicate the late meeting but the dying
embers, the sparks from which were borne up
beyond the solitary and ruined towers of Ralph
the Giant.
XIX.
Theodore,—Tristan, come this way.
Tristan.—It is a strange disgrace.
THtoDORE.—Did he recognize us ?
Tristan.—I do not know, but am afraid so.
Lope de Vega—Le Chien du Jardintr.
Benignus Spiagudry could not account for
a well-constituted young man like his travel¬
ing companion, who had many years of life
before him, actually seeking the formidable
Han of Iceland. Often, during the journey
he had broached the subject, but the young
adventurer maintained strict silence on the
motive of his journey. The poor man was
not more fortunate in gaining information on
other points which roused his curiosity with
regard to the name of his young "master."
" Call me Ordener," said the latter, in a
tone that forbade further notice. Every one
has some secret, and the worthy Spiagudry
himself carried a certain mysterious casket
hidden in his knapsack, and under his
mantle; any remarks relating to this same
224
HAN OF ICELAND 22$
article would have been very objectionable
to him.
It was now four days since they had left
Drontheim, and they had not made much
progress, owing to the state of the roads, and
the various and circuitous routes which the
fugitive guardian considered prudent to take.
After leaving Skongen to the right, on the
evening of the fourth day, they reached the
shores of Lake Sparbo.
It was at once a magnificent and gloomy
spectacle, reflecting as it did upon its surface
the last rays of the sun and the first stars of
night, and surrounded by a frame of high
rocks, dark oaks, and pines. The aspect of a
lake, in the evening, produces sometimes,
at a certain distance, a singular optical illu¬
sion; as though a prodigious abyss, piercing
the globe from side to side, allowed one to
see the heavens through the earth.
Ordener stood, contemplating these old
Druidical forests, which covered the mountain¬
ous borders of the lake like a head of hair,
and the chalk huts at Sparbo, spreading over
the sloping ground like a herd of white goats.
He listened to the distant clatter of the
forges,* mingled with the murmuring of the
wind through the trees, the cries of the wild
birds, and the sound of the waves beating on
the shore. The last rays of the sun fell on an
0
226
HAN OF ICELAND
immense mass of granite that rose majesti¬
cally above the little village of Oelmoe, its
summit covered with ruined towers, looking
like a giant wearied with his load.
When the soul is sad, melancholy sights
please; it makes all gloomy with its sadness.
When an unhappy being is thrown among wild
and high mountains, near to a sombre lake, at
the moment when day is just about to dis¬
appear, he will see this solemn scene, this
serious nature, in a certain way as though
through a funeral veil: it will not seem to him
as though the sun were going to bed, but as
though he were dying.
Ordener remained silent and motionless,
until his companion exclaimed :
"Well done, young master, you cannot do
better than meditate beside this Norwegian
lake, which is renowned for the number of its
sand-flies."
This observation, and the gesture accom¬
panying it, would have excited any one's
laughter but a lover separated from his mis¬
tress perhaps never to see her again.
" Besides," continued the learned guardian,
"permit me to say that the day is declining,
and we must hasten onward if we wish to
reach Oelmoe before twjlight."
There was reason in this. Ordener resumed
his journey, while Spiagudry followed, carefully
HAN OF ICELAND
227
noting the botanical and mineralogical curi¬
osities which Lake Sparbo presented to
naturalists.
" Sir Ordener," said he, "if you believe
your devoted guide, you will abandon your
fatal undertaking; yes, sir, and you will fix
your abode upon the border of this curious
lake, where we can live together among a
crowd of learned doctors, for example we have
the Stella canora palustris, a singular plant
which many savants believe fabulous, but which
Bishop Arngrim claims to have seen and heard
on the borders of Sparbo. Added to that we
will have the satisfaction of living on the soil
which contains the greatest amount of gypsum
in all Europe, and where the hired assassins of
Themis penetrate the least. Does that not
make you smile, my young master? Come,
give up your senseless journey; for, without
offense, your enterprise is perilous without
profit, pericillum sine pecunia, that is to say
stupid, and conceived at a moment when you
had better have thought of other things."
Ordener paid no attention to the poor
man, and did not enter into the conversation
except by the insignificant and distracted
monosyllables which great talkers take for
answers.
At last they arrived at Oelmce, to find the
village all astir.
228
HAN OF ICELAND
The inhabitants, blacksmiths, hunters, and
fishermen had grouped themselves around a
circular hillock, upon which several men were
standing, one of whom was sounding a horn
and waving a black and white banner above
his head.
"It is doubtless some quack," said Spia-
gudry, "amdubaiarum collegia, pharmacoporla;
some wretch who turns gold into lead, and
wounds into ulcers. Let us see what inven¬
tion of satan's is he going to sell these poor
villagers ? If these impostors contented them¬
selves with making kings their dupes, all well
and good, like Borch the Dane, and Borri the
Milanese, who so completely tricked our own
King Frederick III.,' but they must even rob
the peasant as well as the prince."
Spiagudry was mistaken. On nearing the
hillock they recognized the syndic, by his
round cap tapering to a point, and his black
gown. He was surrounded by some archers.
The man who blew the horn was the town
crier.
The fugitive guardian, much concerned,
murmured:
" I never expected to find a syndic in this
hamlet. Master Ordener. May Saint Hospice
protect me ! What is he going to say ?"
He was not kept long in suspense, for the
crier suddenly raised his squeaking voice, and
HAN OF ICELAND
229
the little crowd of inhabitants of Oelmoe
listened religiously.
" In the name of his majesty, and by order
of his excellency General Levin de Knud,
governor, the high sheriff of the Drontheimhus
makes known to all the inhabitants of towns,
villages, and hamlets in this province, that
—First, a reward of one thousand crowns
is offered for the apprehension of Han, native
of Klipstadur in Iceland, murderer and incen¬
diary. ''
A vague murmur broke out in the audience.
The crier continued : " Second, A reward of
four royal crowns is offered for the apprehen¬
sion of Benignus Spiagudry, ex-guardian of
Spladgest at Drontheim, who has been guilty
of necromancy and sacrilege.
" Third, This edict shall be published
throughout the province in all towns, villages,
and hamlets by the different syndics, in order
to facilitate its being carried out."
The syndic took the edict from the
hands of the crier, and added, in a solemn
tone:
" The lives of these men are offered to who¬
ever wishes to take them."
The reader can well imagine what the
wretched Spiagudry felt at this moment, and
no doubt the signs of terror which he displayed
would have drawn attention upon himself had
23°
HAN OF ICELAND
the villagers been less absorbed by the first
part of the edict.
"A price on the head of Han 1" cried an
old fisherman, who had come to the spot
with his dripping nets dragging behind him.
" They may just as well, by Saint Usulph, set
a price on the head of Beelzebub."
"To preserve the difference," added the
hunter—easily recognized by his doublet of
chamois skin—" only fifteen hundred crowns
should be offered for the head with its horns
of the last demon."
"Glory be to the blessed Mother in
heaven," muttered an old woman, with her
distaff in her hand. "I should like to see
Han's head, so that I might assure myself that
his eyes are two live coals, as report says."
"Yes, and truly so," added another old
gossip; "he set fire to Drontheim Cathedral
by merely looking at it. I should like to see
the monster, with his serpent's tail, his cloven
feet, and his wings like a bat."
"Who told you all these stories, good
mother?" interposed the hunter. "I have
seen this Han of Iceland in the ravines of
Medsyhath. He is a man like ourselves, only
he is as tall as a poplar tree of forty years*
growth."
"Indeed!" said a voice in the crowd, with
singular emphasis.
HAN OF ICELAND
231
Spiagudry trembled at the sound, which
proceeded from a little man, whose features
were concealed beneath the broad-brimmed
hat of a miner. His costume consisted of
reed matting and seal-skin.
"By my faith," said a smith, with a loud
laugh, "they may offer a thousand or ten
thousand crowns, if they like, for his head,
and whether he be four or forty feet high, I
will not be the man to discover him."
"Nor I," said a fisherman.
"Nor I, nor I," repeated all the voices.
"Any one who may be tempted to do so,"
said the little man, "will find Han of Ice¬
land to-morrow in the ruins of Arbar, near
Smiasen, and after that in Walderhog Grotto."
"Are you quite sure of this, my good
man ?''
This question was put by Ordener, who had
eagerly listened to the conversation, and also
by a short man, clothed in black, with a
jovial-looking countenance, who, at the sound
of the crier's horn, had come out of the only
inn in the place.
The little man in the broad-brimmed hat
looked earnestly from one to the other, and
then simply muttered:
"Yes."
"And what makes you so sure of the fact?"
said Ordener.
232
HAN OF ICELAND
" I know as well where Han of Iceland is
as I know where Benignus Spiagudry is to be
found; neither one nor the other are far from
here at this moment.''
All the poor guardian's former fears re¬
turned. He scarcely dared to look at the
little man, and, doubtful lest his French wig
was not sufficient disguise, he pulled Ordener
by the cloak, and whispered:
" Master, in the name of Heaven, for pity's
sake, let us hasten from this cursed village of
satan."
Ordener, equally surprised, was examining
the little man, who was so anxious to conceal
his features.
"This Benignus Spiagudry!" exclaimed
the fisherman, "why, I have seen him at
Drontheim Spladgest. He is tall. Is that
the one for whom four crowns have been
offered?"
The hunter laughed.
"Four crowns, indeed! They won't get me
to chase him for that. Why, I get more for a
blue fox's skin."
This comparison, which at any other time
would have insulted Spiagudry, now helped
to reassure him. He was about to renew his
appeal, when Ordener, who had gained all the
information he required, suggested that they
proceed on their way.
HAN OF ICELAND
233
They had intended to pass the night at
Oelmoe, but they tacitly agreed to continue
their journey. Ordener's motive was to meet
the brigand as soon as possible, and Spia-
gudry's to put a greater distance between the
archers and himself.
Ordener could find no amusement in his
companion's misadventures, and he broke the
silence in a friendly tone.
"Old man, what is the name of the ruin
where Han of Iceland is to be found to-morrow,
according to the little man's account?"
"I do not know. I did not catch the
words, noble master," answered Spiagudry,
which was really the fact.
" I must then," continued the young man,
" resign myself to give up seeing him until the
day after to-morrow at Walderhog Grotto."
"Walderhog Grotto, sir, is the favorite
haunt of Han of Iceland."
" Let us take that road," said Ordener.
"We must turn to the left behind Oelmoe
peak. In less than two days we shall reach
Walderhog."
"Do you know this singular man," said
Ordener, adroitly, "as well as he seems to
know you?"
The question again aroused Spiagudry's
fears, which had been partially dispelled by
the distance now between them and Oelmoe.
234
HAN OF ICELAND
"No, master, really not at all," replied he,
in a quivering tone. " Only I noticed he had
a very strange voice."
Ordener endeavored to reassure him.
"Fear nothing, old man," said he; "serve
me well, and I will protect you; and should I
conquer Han, I not only promise you your
pardon, but you shall have the whole of the
reward, a thousand royal crowns, handed over
to you."
Honest Benignus loved life extraordinarily;
but he had a prodigious regard for gold.
Ordener's promises were like magic words to
him: they not only banished his fears, but
they roused his hilarity, which evinced itself
in long dissertations, accompanied by peculiar
gesticulations and learned quotations.
"Master Ordener," said he, "even if
Over-Bilseuth, the Babbler, himself asserted
to the contrary, I would maintain that you are
a good and honorable young man. What can
be more worthy and glorious, quid cithara,
tuba, vel campana dignius, than nobly to risk
your life for the deliverance of your country
from this monster, this brigand in whom all
other demons, brigands, and monsters seem
united ? Let them not say to me that you are
influenced by sordid interests, for the noble
Ordener is ready to abandon the profits of his
victory to the old man who will be his guide
HAN OF ICELAND
235
to Walderhog Grotto; at least, within a mile
of it; for you will allow me to await the result
of your noble enterprise at the village of Surb
in the forest, just a mile from Walderhog. At
the news of your glorious victory there will be
similar rejoicings throughout Norway to those
displayed by Vermund the Outlaw, when from
the summit of this same Oelmoe peak he per¬
ceived the beacon fire which his brother Half-
dan had lighted as a token of his pardon on
Munckholm Tower."
At this name Ordener quickly interrupted
him.
"What! can you see Munckholm Tower
from there?"
"Yes; twelve miles to the south, between
those mountains which our fathers called
Escabelles de Frigga. About this hour the
beacon light is clearly visible."
"Is that really so?" exclaimed Ordener,
elated at the idea of seeing the place in which
his happiness was centred. " Old man, is
there any pathway leading up to the summit
of the rocks?"
" Yes; it leads from the forest we are about
to enter to the rocks, and thence by steps
hewn out of the face of the granite by Ver¬
mund the Outlaw's companions. The ruins
of his castle adjoining can be seen by moon¬
light."
236
HAN OF ICELAND
" Well, then, you must point out the way,
for we shall pass the night in those ruins whence
the tower of Munckholm is to be seen."
"Do you really mean it?" said Benignus.
" The fatigues of the journey ..."
" Old man, I will help you, for my step was
never firmer than it is now."
"My lord, think of the obstructions, the
stones, the night ..."
" I will go first."
" Perhaps some criminal, some wild beast,
some enormous reptile, some hideous mon¬
ster ..."
"I did not take this journey to avoid
monsters."
Spiagudry was far from being pleased at the
idea of straying so near to Oelmoe. Ordener
was enchanted at the thought of seeing Munck¬
holm beacon, and perhaps the light shining
through Ethel's window.
" My young master," said Spiagudry, " pray
abandon this project. I have a presentiment
it will bring you misfortune."
Ordener's wishes made him deaf to the old
man's warnings.
"That is enough," said he, impatiently;
"you undertook to serve me well, now show
me the way to this place."
" We shall soon be there," said the guard¬
ian, compelled to obey.
HAN OF ICELAND
237
Indeed, the path soon appeared, and they
entered, but Spiagudry noticed, with astonish¬
ment mingled with fear, that the high weeds
were bent and broken and that the old path
of Vermund the Outlaw appeared to have been
recently traversed.
XX.
Leonardo.—^The king asks for you.
Henrique.—Indeed ?
Lope de Vega—La Fuerza laiimosa.
Before a table scattered with papers and
open letters, General Levin de Knud was
deeply buried in thought. A secretary seated
near him appeared to be waiting for orders.
The general now and then struck the rich
carpet at his feet with his spurs, now and then
played in a distracted way with the decora¬
tion of the Elephant which hung at his neck
from the collar of the Order. From time to
time he opened his mouth to speak, then
paused and struck his forehead, and looked
again at the open dispatches which covered
the table.
" The devil!" cried he, at last.
This exclamation is followed by an instant
of silence.
" Who would have thought that these
demon miners would have taken such steps?
They must have been instigated to open
238
HAN OF ICELAND
239
revolt by some secret influence. Really,
Wapherney, this is very serious. Do you
know that five or six hundred scoundrels from
the Faroe Isles have left their mines, under the
command of an old bandit named Jonas. A
young fanatic, called Norbith, has placed him¬
self at the head of the malcontents from
Guldbranshal, while at Sund-Moer, Hubfallo,
and Konigsberg, the disaffected spirits only
wait for the signal to rise. Perhaps they are
already in arms. The mountaineers have
taken part, under the leadership of Kennybol,
a brave old fox from Kole. According to
the syndic's dispatches, that desperate villain,
for whose head a price has been set, that for¬
midable Han, is the chief of the insurgents.
What do you say to all that, Wapherney?"
"Your excellency," said Wapherney,
" knows what measures ..."
" There is one circumstance in this deplor¬
able affair for which I cannot account, and
that is, according to their assertion Schu-
macker is the author of this revolt. This
seems to astonish no one, yet to me it is the
most astounding thing of all. It is difficult
to credit that my loyal Ordener could find
pleasure in a traitor's company. Meanwhile
they assure me the miners have risen in his
name, and his name is their watchword, call¬
ing him at the same time by all the titles the
240
HAN OF ICELAND
king has deprived him of. All this seems
authentic. , But how was it that Countess
d'Ahlefeld knew all these details six days ago,
when the first real symptoms of the insurrec¬
tion had scarcely shown themselves in the
mines? This is very strange. We must be
ready for any emergency. Give me my seal,
Wapherney."
The general wrote three letters and sealed
them.
" Send this to Colonel Vcethaun, at Munck-
holm, in order that his musketeers may at
once march against the insurgents. This is
for the Governor of Drontheim, that he may
keep strict watch over the grand chancellor.
I must see Schumacher myself, and question
him. Dispatch this letter to Major Wolhm,
at Skongen, for him to send a party against
the rebels. Go, Wapherney, and see that my
orders are carried out."
The secretary went out, leaving the gov¬
ernor in deep reflection.
'' All this is very grave,'' thought he. " The
miners in revolt there, the intriguing wife of
the chancellor here, that silly Ordener—no
one knows where. Perhaps he is traveling in
the midst of the rebels, leaving Schumacher,
who is conspiring against the State, under my
protection, and his daughter, for whose sake I
recalled the company of soldiers commanded
HAN OF ICELAND
241
byFrederick d'Ahlefeld,whom Ordener accuses
of . . . Why, this very company is now in
a position to check the first movement of
the rebel column. Walhstrom, where it
is quartered, is near to Lake Smiasen and
the ruins of Arbar. That is one of the
points which the insurgents will have to
secure."
At this point in his reverie, the general was
disturbed by the noise of the opening of a
door.
"Well, what is it, Gustave?"
"General, a messenger is inquiring for
your excellency."
"What has occurred? some fresh disaster?
Show the messenger in."
The messenger introduced, handed a packet
to the governor.
"Your excellency," said he, "on the part
of the viceroy.''
The general tore open the cover.
"By Saint George," exclaimed he, "they
must be all mad. The viceroy summons me
to Berghen on a pressing matter, by order of
the king. This pressing business comes at a
good time, I must say. ' The grand chan¬
cellor, who is at present in Drontheimhus,
will supply your post.' A substitute in whom
I have no confidence. ' The bishop will assist
him.' Really, Frederick chooses two famous
*
242
HAN OF ICELAND
governors for a province in a state of rebel¬
lion. A couple of gownsmen, a chancellor
and a bishop! However, the invitation is
express, it is the order of the king. I must
go. But I will see Schumacher before leaving
and question him. I feel sure that they wish
to entangle me in a mass of intrigue. I have
an infallible compass, which never deceives
me—my conscience."
XXI.
It seemed that everything took voice to
accuse him of his crime.
Cain—A Tr^edy.
" Yes, lord count, we shall meet him to-day
in the ruins of Arbar. A number of circum¬
stances tend to verify the truth of what I heard
by chance at Oelmoe."
" Are we far from this ruin of Arbar?"
"They are near Lake Smiasen. The
guide assured me we should be there by
midday."
Thus spoke two horsemen, wrapped in
brown cloaks, who since the early morning
had been following narrow winding tracks
through the forest, situated between Lakes
Smiasen and Sparbo. A mountain guide,
with his horn round him, and armed with an
axe, preceded them on his little gray pony,
and four men armed to the teeth brought up
the rear, toward whom the horsemen occasion¬
ally turned, as though afraid of being over¬
heard.
243
244
HAN OF ICELAND
" If this Iceland brigand is really in the ruin
of Arbar," said one of the riders, in a respectful
tone, " it will be a great point gained, for the
difficulty is to meet this unconquerable being."
" You think so, Musdoemon ? Suppose he
rejects our offers."
" Impossible, your grace ! gold and a free
pardon. What brigand would resist that?"
"You know that this is not an ordinary
rascal. Do not judge him by yourself; should
he refuse, how will you fulfil the promise you
gave the night before last to the three chiefs of
the insurrection ?''
" Well, in that case, your grace, not likely,
if once we meet our man. Have you forgotten
that a false Han of Iceland two days hence
will await me at the meeting place arranged
with the three chiefs, the Blue Star, at a spot
not far from the ruin of Arbar ?''
"You are right, always, my dear Musdoe¬
mon," said the count. Then each became
absorbed in his own reflections.
Musdoemon, whose aim was to keep his
master in good humor, endeavored to distract
his thoughts by questioning the guide.
"My good man," said he, "what is that
sort of broken stone cross standing up behind
those young oaks?"
The guide, a stupid looking fellow, shook
his head, and turning round, said :
HAN OF ICELAND
245
" Oh, master, that is the oldest gibbet in
Norway. Holy King Olaiis had it constructed
to hang a judge who had made a compact with
a robber."
Musdoemon noticed on his master's face an
impression quite different to that which he
expected from the simple words of the guide.
" It is a very curious tale," continued the
latter. " Old mother Oise told it to me. The
brigand was deputed to hang the judge,
and . . ."
The poor guide did not perceive that the
tale he was relating to the travelers, instead of
amusing them, was almost an insult to them.
"Enough! enough!" Musdoemon inter¬
rupted him: " we know that story well."
"Insolent rascal!" muttered the count.
" He knew all about the tale. Ah, Musdoe¬
mon, you shall pay me for this."
" Did your grace speak ?" said Musdoemon
with an obsequious air.
" I was considering the best way of obtain¬
ing the Order of the Dannebrog for you. The
marriage of my daughter Ulrica with Baron
Ordener would be a good occasion."
Musdoemon was overwhelming with thanks
and protestations.
" By the by," continued his grace, "let us go
back to my affairs. Do you think that order of
instant recall has reached the Mecklenburger ?"
246
HAN OF ICELAND
The reader perhaps remembers that the
count was in the habit of designating under
this name, General Levin de Knud, who was
indeed a native of Mecklenburg.
"Our affairs, indeed!" repeated Musdoe-
mon to himself; "as though my affairs were
noX. our affairs. My lord count," continued
he, aloud, " I should not think that the vice¬
roy's messenger has reached Drontheim before
this, and that General Levin will not be long
in starting."
The count assumed an affectionate tone.
" That recall, my dear Musdoemon, was a
master-stroke of yours. It is one of your best
conceived and executed plans."
"The credit belongs to your grace as much
as to me," replied Musdoemon, anxious to
implicate the count in every intrigue.
His master knew this perfectly well, but
wished to appear ignorant. He began to
smile.
" My dear private secretary, you are too
modest; but nothing will ever make me forget
your eminent services. Elph^ge's presence
and the Mecklenburger's absence assure my
triumph at Drontheim. I am now the governor
of the province; and if Han of Iceland accepts
the command of the insurgents, which I will
offer him myself, it is I who in the king's
eyes will return with all the glory of having
HAN OF ICELAND
247
suppressed a dangerous insurrection and cap¬
tured a formidable brigand."
They spoke thus in whispers, when the guide
turned round and said:
" My lords, to our left, on yonder hillock,
Biord the Just had Vellon the Forked-tongued
beheaded in the presence of the army. This
traitor had succeeded in withdrawing all the
king's true defenders, and substituted the
enemy into the camp, so that he alone might
have the credit for saving King Biord's life."
All these reminiscences of ancient Norway
seemed not to Musdoemon's taste, for he
roughly interrupted the guide.
" Come, come, my good fellow, be quiet
and follow the road without turning; what
matters it to us about old ruins and dead
trees? You annoy my master with your
women's tales."
XXII.
Puck.—^Now the hungry Lyon rores.
And the Wolfe beholds the Moone;
Whilest the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary taske fore-done.
Now the wasted brands doe glow,
Whir St the scritch-owl, scritching loud.
Puts the wretch that lies in woe.
In remembrance of a shrowd.
Now it is the time of night.
That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his spright.
In the Church-way paths to glide.
Midsummer Nighfs Dream, Act 5.
Shakespeare.
Let us retrace our steps. We left Ordener
and Spiagudry with difficulty ascending the
narrow path up the rocks leading to Oelmoe
peak. This rock, on account of its curved
appearance, was called by the Norwegian
peasants, "The Vulture's Neck," for from a
distance this enormous mass of granite really
had that appearance. As our travelers neared
the more elevated portions of the rock, the
forest was replaced by heather, and the grass
by moss; the wild brier, the broom, the holly
248
HAN OF ICELAND
249
bush, by the oak and the birch trees. Vegeta¬
tion gradually became more and more scanty,
a sure sign that the summit was nearly reached.
The bare rock was plainly visible through the
thin covering of earth, so much so that what
might be termed the skeleton of the mountain
was disclosed.
" Master Ordener," said Spiagudry, whose
mind wandered to all sorts of subjects, " this
ascent is very fatiguing, and it shows my devo¬
tion in following you. But it seems to me
that I see there to the right a magnificent
convolvulus. How I should like to examine
it. Why is it not daylight ? I must say it is
a great piece of impertinence to value so
learned a head as mine at only four miserable
crowns. Certainly the celebrated Phaedra was
a slave, and .^Esop, according to Doctor Planu-
dus, was sold like a beast in the market-place.
Who would not be proud to have something
in common with .^sop ?"
"And with the celebrated Han, too,"
added Ordener, smiling.
"By Saint Hospice !" answered the guard¬
ian, " do not speak so lightly of his name. I
can assure you, I can well dispense with this
last conformity. It would be singular if the
price set on his head were to return to Benig-
nus Spiagudry, his companion in misfortune.
You, Master Ordener, are more generous than
250
HAN OF ICELAND
Jason, for he did not bestow the golden fleece
on the pilot of the Argo, and certainly your
enterprise, of which I do not clearly see the
object, is no less perilous than that of
Jason."
"But," said Ordener, "since you are ac¬
quainted with Han of Iceland, give me some
information respecting him. You have already
told me he is not a giant, as is commonly
reported."
Spiagudry interrupted him.
" Stop, master, did you not hear a noise
behind us ?"
"Yes," calmly replied the young man.
" Do not alarm yourself; it is only some wild
beast, who, alarmed at our approach, has fled
through the brushwood."
" You are right, my young Caesar; it is
long since a human being ever set foot in these
parts. Judging from the weight of its tread,
the animal must have been a big one. It was
an elk or a reindeerj for Norway abounds with
them. Wild cats are also to be found. I saw
one that was brought to Copenhagen, and it
was a monstrous size. I must describe this
fierce creature to you."
" My dear guide," said Ordener, " I should
infinitely prefer you to give me a description
of another monster, no less fierce, that horrible
Han of Iceland."
HAN OF ICELAND
"Lower your voice, my lord. How can
my young master pronounce that name so
carelessly ? You do not know . . . My God,
sir! Listen!"
As he said these words Spiagudry pressed
close to Ordener, who distinctly heard a roar
similar to that which so frightened the timid
guardian on the stormy night they had quitted
Drontheim.
" Did you hear ?'' said he, gasping for terror.
"Certainly," replied Ordener; "but why
should you tremble? It is the cry of some
wild beast; perhaps only the cry of one of
the very tiger cats you were speaking about
just now. Do you expect to pass through such
a place without hearing something from the
hosts we are troubling with our company ? I
assure you, old man, that they are more afraid
of us than we are of them.''
Spiagudry seeing his companion's calmness
was reassured a little.
" Come, you may be right, but that beast's
roar very much resembles a voice . . . Allow
me to say, master, that you must have been
inspired by some evil genius when you thought
of mounting to Castle Vermund. I fear mis¬
fortune will happen to us on the Vulture's
Neck."
" Fear nothing as long as you are with
me," said Ordener.
252 HAN OF ICELAND
" Oh ! nothing seems to alarm you; but it
was only the blessed Saint Paul who could
handle vipers with impunity. You did not
even remark when we entered this cursed
pathway how grass which had been lately
trodden down had not even had time to
rise since some one had passed."
" I confess I scarcely noticed it; besides,
I do not allow my courage to fail me at the
sight of a blade of grass bent down more or
less. We shall soon leave the heather behind
us, and we shall then not be troubled with
footsteps, or the cries of wild beasts. Pluck
up your courage, and gather your strength
together, for the ascent up to the summit will
be far more difficult than this.''
" It is not that it is steeper, master; but the
learned traveler Suckson relates that the way
is blocked up by masses of rock and heavy
stones, which it is impossible to remove, and
difficult to pass over. There is close to Malaer
postern a huge triangular block of granite, that
I am anxious to see. Schoenning claims to
have three,ancient Runic letters seen upon it."
The travelers had already climbed the rock
for some time when they reached a small
dilapidated tower, which barred the way and
which made Spiagudry remark to Ordener:
"That is Malaer postern, master. This
deep and narrow way presents many other
HAN OF ICELAND
253
curious constructions which show what were
the ancient fortifications of our Norwegian
lords. This postern, which was always guarded
by four men-at-arms, was the first outwork of
the fort of Vermund. Speaking of door or
postern, the monk Urensius makes a singular
remark; has not the word janua, which comes
from Janus, the gates of whose temple are so
celebrated, generated the word Janissairy,
guardian of the door of the Sultan. It would
be very curious if the name of the mildest
prince in history had passed to the most
ferocious soldiers on the earth."
The guardian continued his discourse as
they painfully wended their way over rolling
stones, sharp flints, and damp grass. Ordener
forgot all his fatigue in thinking of once more
gazing on Munckholm Tower even at a
distance ; suddenly Spiagudry exclaimed :
" Ah ! I see it; this single view recompenses
me for all my toils. I see it, my lord, I see it. *'
" What then?" asked Ordener, who at that
moment was thinking of his Ethel.
" Eh! the triangular pyramid mentioned by
Schoenning. I will, with Professor Schoen-
ning and Bishop Isloef, be the third savant
who has had the good luck of examining it,
only it is annoying that it is not moonlight."
On approaching the famous block, Spia¬
gudry uttered a cry of disappointment and
254
HAN OF ICELAND
terror. Ordener, surprised, looked with
interest at the new subject of his emotion; but
the archaeological guardian was unable to
reply for some time.
"You thought the stone barred the way,"
said Ordener; " you ought to be pleased to
find such is not the case."
"This removal is what alarms me," said
Benignus, in a doleful tone.
"Why?"
" Why! master," replied the guardian, " do
you not see that the pyramid has been totally
misplaced, and rests upon that side on which
are the Runic letters ? I am indeed unlucky.''
" It is indeed a misfortune," said the young
man.
"And added to this," said Spiagudry,
excitedly, " the overthrow of this mass proves
the presence of some supernatural being; no
human creature in Norway could have moved
it, save one man ..."
" My poor guide, you are again panic-
stricken. Who knows but what this stone
may have been in this position for a century?"
" It is certainly one hundred and fifty years
since the last observations were made," said
Spiagudry, more calmly. " Look, master, it
seems to have been freshly done, for the
ground where it formerly rested is still damp.
See, sir."
HAN OF ICELAND
255
Ordener, eager to arrive at the ruins, im¬
patiently dragged him away from the marvelous,
and tried by kind words to soothe his fears.
" Listen, old man. You can settle down
on the borders of the lake, and pursue your
important studies, when you have received the
thousand royal crowns—the price on Han's
head."
"You are right, master, but do not be too
sure of victory. I must give you a little
advice, which may be of use in mastering this
monster.''
Ordener quickly neared Spiagudry.
" Advice! what?"
"The brigand," whispered Spiagudry,
casting uneasy looks around, " drinks out of a
skull which hangs from his belt. This skull
is the skull of his son, for the profanation of
whose body I am now pursued."
" Raise your voice, for I can hardly catch
your words. Fear nothing. Well, about this
skull ?"
"It is of this skull that you must gain
possession," again whispered the guardian.
" The monster has many superstitious ideas
respecting it. Once the skull is within your
grasp, you may do what you please with its
owner."
" That is all very well, my good man; but
how am I to obtain it ?"
HAN OF ICELAND
" By stratagem, master; when the monster
is sleeping, perhaps."
Ordener interrupted him.
" That is enough. I cannot avail myself of
your good advice. I never attack a sleeping
foe. My sword is my defense."
" My lord, my lord ! has it not been proven
that the Archangel Michael used strategy to
overcome satan ?''
Here Spiagudry suddenly stopped, stretched
forth his hands in terror, and said almost
inaudibly:
" Oh, Heaven ! oh. Heaven! what do I
see there, down there ? Look ! master; is not
that a little man walking in this same path
before us ?"
"My faith," said Ordener, straining his
eyes, " I see nothing."
" Nothing, sir ! Ah ! but the path winds
round, and he has disappeared behind the
rock. Go no farther, I entreat you, I beg
you.
"Watch over us. Saint Hospice!" said
Spiagudry, who, in all perilous occasions,
remembered his favorite patron.
"Truly if this pretended person has so
quickly disappeared, that shows that he has
no intention of waiting for us; and if he
flies that is no reason for us to fly. You have
taken a scared owl for a man," said Ordener.
HAN OF ICELAND
257
" I certainly believed I saw a little man; it
is true that the moonlight often produces
singular illusions. It was in this light that
Baldan, Lord of Merneugh, mistook the white
curtain of his bed for the shade of his mother;
which induced him to go the next day and
declare his parricide to the judges at Chris-
tiania, who were going to condemn the inno¬
cent page of the defunct. Thus, one might
say that the moonlight saved the life of the
page."
No one forgot the present in the past better
than Spiagudry. One thought from his vast
memory was sufficient to banish all impressions
of the moment. Thus the story of Baldan
dissipated his terror. He continued in a
tranquil voice:
"It is possible that the moonlight has
cheated even me."
Meanwhile they reached the summit of
Vulture's Neck, and began to see again
the ridge of the ruins, which the curve of the
rock had hidden from them whilst they "were
' ascending.
Let the reader not be astonished if we often
encounter ruins on the summit of mountains
in Norway. Whoever has explored mountains
in Europe could not have helped frequently
noticing the remains of forts and castles,
perched on the crests of the highest peaks.
HAN OF ICELAND
like old vultures' nestS or old eagles' eyries.
In Norway especially, in the century to which
we are transported, these sort of aerial con¬
structions astonish as much by their variety as
by their number. They were sometimes of
long dismantled walls, winding like a belt
around a rock, sometimes with slender and
pointed tourelles surmounting the point of a
peak, like a crown ; or, on the white head of
a high mountain, with stout towers grouped
about a large donjon, and presenting, from a
distance, the appearance of an old tiara. One
might see near the slender lancet vault of a
Gothic cloister, the heavy Egyptian pillars of
a Saxon church ; near the square towered
citadel of a pagan chief, the pinnacled
fortress of a christian lord, near a fort-like
castle ruined by time, a monastery destroyed
by war. Of all these edifices, of a mixture of
architectures, singular and almost unknown
nowadays, daringly constructed on places
apparently inaccessible, nothing is left but
debris to render in any way testimony of the
power and the nothingness of man. Perhaps
in their interiors there has passed many things
more worthy of being related than all these
commonplaces; but the events have passed
away, the eyes which have seen them are
closed; the traditions die away with years,
like a fire that has never been replenished;
HAN OF ICELAND
259
and who therefore can penetrate the secret of
the centuries ?
The domain of Vermund the Proscribed,
where our two travelers arrived at this
moment, was one of those to which supersti¬
tion attached the most astonishing tales and
miraculous adventures. By its walls of flint-
stone set in a cement grown harder than the
stone, one could easily discover that it had been
built about the fifteenth or sixteenth century.
Of its five towers, only one was standing in
all its grandeur ; the four others, more or less
dilapidated, and covering the summit of the
rock with their debris, were connected by
lines of ruins, and which likewise indicated
the limits of the courts in the enclosure of the
castle. It was very difficult to penetrate into
this enclosure, obstructed with rocks, blocks
of stone, and shrubs of all kinds, which,
running from ruin to ruin, covered the fallen
■walls with their tufts, or allowed their long
flexible branches to hang over the edge of the
precipice. It is in these branches that often,
they say, come and sit, in the moonlight,
bluish ghosts, guilty spirits of those who have
been voluntarily drowned in the Sparbo.
Frightful secrets which must have been more
than once witnessed by the hardy fishermen,
when, in order to profit by the sleep of the
sea-dogs,® they dared to push their boat close
26o
han of iceland
under the rock of Oelmce, which loomed above
their heads, like a broken arch of a gigantic
bridge.
Our two adventurers cleared, but not with¬
out difficulty, the wall of the domain, through
a break, for the ancient door-way was filled,
encumbered with ruins. The only tower
which, as we have said, remained standing,
was situated at the extremity of the rock.
"This was," said Spiagudry to Ordener,
" that from the summit of which one could
see the beacon of Munckholm.'' They turned
towards it, although the darkness was at this
moment complete. The moon was entirely
hidden by a large black cloud. They were
about to climb the breach of another wall in
order to enter what had been the second court
of the castle, when Benignus stopped suddenly,
and roughly seized Ordener's arm, with a
hand that trembled so violently that the young
man himself was disturbed.
"What now?" said Ordener, surprised.
Benignus, without replying, pressed his arm
more violently still, as though to demand
silence.
" But—" continued the young man.
A new pressure, accompanied by a big gasp
half suppressed, decided him to await patiently
until this new terror had passed.
At last Spiagudry said in a suppressed voice;
HAN OF ICELAND
261
"Well, master, what say you of that?"
"Ofwhat?" said Ordener.
" Yes, my lord," continued the other in the
same tone, " you must now sorely repent
having mounted here!"
" No, indeed, my brave guide; I fondly
hope to mount higher still. Why do you wish
me to repent it?"
"What, my lord, have you then seen
nothing ?"
" Seen ! what?"
" Have you not seen ?" continued the honest
guardian, with an ever increasing access of
terror.
" No, truly !" replied Ordener in a tone of
impatience; " I have seen nothing, and I have
heard nothing, but the noise of your teeth,
which chatter with terror."
"What! there, behind that wall, in the
shadow, two eyes flaming like comets, which
are fixed on us. You have not seen them ?''
"On my honor, no."
" You did not see them move about—first
up and then down, and finally disappear
among the ruins ?"
"I do not know what you mean; what
does this signify, anyhow ?''
" What, Master Ordener, you are not aware
that only one man in Norway has eyes that
gleam in the darkness ?''
0
262
HAN OF ICELAND
" Well, what of it ? Who is this individual
with cat's eyes ? Is it Han, your formidable
Icelander ? So much the better if it is he!
It will spare us the journey to Walderhog.''
This "so much the better" was not to
Spiagudry's taste. He could not forbear
revealing his secret thought by this involun¬
tary exclamation:
" Ah, master, you promised to leave me at
the village of Surb, a mile from the place of
combat."
Ordener's kindly nature understood, and he
smiled.
" You are right, old man; it would be
unjust to compel you to take part in my danger.
Fear nothing. You see Han of Iceland every¬
where. A wild cat's eyes would shine quite
as brilliantly as this man's."
For the fifth time Spiagudry was reassured,
either by Ordener's natural explanation or by
the contagious tranquility of his young com¬
panion.
" Ah! my lord, without you I would have
been dead ten times from fear in climbing
these rocks. It is true that without you I
would not have been tempted."
The moon, which reappeared, enabled
them to see the entrance of the highest tower,
at the base of which they had arrived.
They entered, lifting a heavy curtain of
HAN OF ICELAND
263
ivy, which showered upon them sleeping
lizards and old blackbirds' nests.
The guardian heaped a quantity of dried
branches together, and striking a light with
two flints, in a very short time a clear flame
arose, which reflected on the whole of the
objects within the tower.
Nothing remained but a thick circular wall
covered with moss and ivy. The ceilings of
the four stories had fallen to the ground. A
spiral staircase without any rail wound round
the interior of the wall, and led to the battle¬
ments. At the first glimmer of light a num¬
ber of screech-owls and ospreys flew away with
frightened and discordant cries, while huge
bats at intervals fanned the flame with their
ashen-colored wings.
" Our hosts do not give us a very gay
reception," said Ordener; "butdo not alarm
yourself again."
" Me, my lord !" returned Spiagudry,
seating himself by the fire; "do you think I
fear an owl or a bat—I who have lived among
dead bodies, and not been alarmed at vam¬
pires ? I have no fear of the living. I con¬
fess I am not brave, but I am not superstitious.
Master, let us think of supper."
Ordener could only think of Munckholm.
" I have a few provisions here," said Spia¬
gudry, drawing his knapsack from under his
264
HAN OF ICELAND
cloak; " if your appetite equals mine, this black
bread and dry cheese will soon disappear.
" I see that we will be obliged to stop short
of the limits of the law of the French king,
Philippe Le Bel: Nemo audeatcomedere procter
duo fercula cum polagio. I dare say there are
plenty of gulls' and pheasants* nests on the
top of the tower. But how to get there by a
dilapidated staircase which could at the most
bear nothing but sylphs ?''
" Meanwhile," answered Ordener, " it must
bear me, for I will certainly mount to the top
of this tower."
" What! master! for the sake of some
gulls' nests ? Pray do not be so imprudent.
It is not necessary to kill one's self for the sake
of a better supper. Besides, after all, you
may only find screech-owls' eggs.''
"I am thinking of something more than
your birds' nests. Did you not tell me that
Munckholm could be seen from the summit of
this tower ?"
"That is right, young master; to the
south. Now I know the reason for this jour¬
ney; you wish to settle some geographical
point. Remember, a scholar may endure
fatigue for the sake of science, but he should
never court danger. I entreat you not to
risk your life on this dangerous staircase, upon
which a crow would not dare to perch."
HAN OF ICELAND
265
Benignus did not care to be left alone in
the base of the tower. As he rose to take
Ordener's hand, his knapsack resting on his
knees fell among the stones and gave out a
clear ring.
" What is it that rings so in your knap¬
sack?" asked Ordener.
This question, upon a point so delicate for
Spiagudry, removed all desire he had to
restrain his young companion.
"Go," said he, without answering the
question; " since, in spite of my prayers, you
persist in mounting to the top of the tower,
have care of the breaks in the staircase."
"But," answered Ordener, "what can be
in your knapsack to make such a metallic
sound ?''
This indiscreet insistence disgusted the
old guardian supremely and he cursed the
questioner at the bottom of his soul.
"Ah! noble master," answered he, "how
can you bother about a paltry iron shaving plate
striking against a flint ? Since I cannot shave
you," he dared to add, " do not hurry down,
and have care to hold to the ivy which
mantles the walls. You will see the beacon
of Munckholm midway between the two
Escabelles de Frigga."
There was nothing more appropriate that
Spiagudry could have said to banish all other
0
266
HAN OF ICELAND
ideas from the mind of the young man.
Ordener, throwing aside his mantle, started
towards the staircase, the guardian following
him with his eyes, he seemed to glide like a
vague shadow, to the top of the wall, where
he stood lighted by the fitful glare of the
fire and the calm moonlight.
Then, kneeling and opening his knapsack :
"My dear Benignus Spiagudry," said he,
" while that young lynx is not looking and you
are alone, you must hasten to break the incon¬
venient iron envelope which prevents your
taking possession, oculis et manu, of the
treasure doubtless enclosed in this casket.
When it is released from this prison, it will
be less heavy to carry and easier to hide."
Then, armed with a large stone, he was
about to break the lid of the coffer, when a
ray of light falling on the iron seal which
closed it, stopped the antiquarian guardian.
" By Saint Willebrod the Numismatic, if I
am not mistaken," cried he, briskly rubbing
the rusty lid, " these are surely the arms of
Griffenfeld. I was about to commit a great
folly in breaking this seal. There, perhaps,
is the only model which remains of these
famous arms, destroyed in 1676 by the hand
of the headsman. The devil! I must not
touch this lid. Whatever may be the value of
the object which it contains (unless, against
HAN OF ICELAND
267
all probability, they are Palmyra coins or
Carthaginian medals), this is certainly more
precious. I, then, am the sole proprietor of
the now abolished arms of Griffenfeld! I
must carefully hide this treasure. By-and-by,
perhaps, I will discover the secret of opening
the casket, without committing vandalism.
The arms of Griffenfeld! Oh, yes! surely
there is the hand of justice, the balance on a
field of gules. What luck !"
At each new heraldic discovery which he
made by removing the rust from the old seal,
he gave a cry of admiration or an exclamation
of contentment.
" By means of a dissolvent, I will open the
lock without breaking the seal. They are
doubtless the treasures of the ex-chancellor.
If some one, tempted by the bait of four
syndical 6cus, meets me and arrests me, it
will not be difficult for me to ransom myself,
so this lucky casket will have saved me."
As he spoke thus, he raised his head
mechanically. Suddenly his grotesque face
changed, in the twinkle of an eye, from an
expression of foolish joy to that of stupefied
terror. His eyes became fixed, his mouth
remained gaping, and his voice died away in
his throat like an extinguished light.
Facing him, on the other side of the fire,
with his arms crossed and his hands resting
268
HAN OF ICELAND
upon the handle of a stone axe, stood a little
man with a red beard, clothed in skins stained
in many places with blood, with his piercing
eyes fixed savagely upon him.
"Yes, it is I," said the little man. "And
so the casket would be a means of safety,
would it?" He added, with a bitter smile,
" Spiagudry, is this the road to Thoctree?"
The unhappy man tried to articulate a few
words.
"Thoctree—my lord, my master—I was
going there . .
"You were on your way to Walderhog,"
replied the other, in a voice of thunder.
Frantic with fear, Spiagudry gathered all
his strength to make a negative sign with his
head.
"You were conducting an enemy to me.
Thank you; it will be but one man less in the
world. Fear not, oh, faithful guide; he will
follow you."
The wretched man endeavored to cry for
help, but could only utter a vague and con¬
fused moan.
" Why does my presence alarm you ? Why,
you were seeking me. Listen ! do not cry,
or you are a dead man."
The little man brandished the axe over his
head, while he continued, in a voice resem¬
bling the torrent as it bursts from a cavern;
HAN OF ICELAND
269
"You have betrayed me !"
"No, your grace—no, your excellency," at
last Benignus was able with difficulty to pro¬
nounce the beseeching words.
The other uttered a loud roar.
" Ah! so you would deceive me. Do not
attempt it any more. Listen ! I was on the
Spladgest roof when you made a compact
with that idiot. It was I whose voice you
twice heard; it was I whom you again heard
in the storm; it was I you saw in the Tower
of Vygla."
The guardian threw a look about him as
though to call for help. The little man con¬
tinued :
" I would not let those Munckholm soldiers
escape me. You I could always find. It
was I that you saw wearing the miner's hat
at Oelmoe; it was I whose voice resounded
and whose form you saw as you ascended this
path, and it is I who am here before you !"
Alas! the unfortunate man was more than
convinced; he rolled at the feet of his
inexorable judge, crying in a stifled tone:
"Mercy !"
The little man, his arms still crossed, bent
upon him a fierce glance more burning than
the flame of the fire.
"Ask your casket to secure your safety,"
answered the other, with an ironical laugh.
270
HAN OF ICELAND
"Mercy, my lord; mercy, I pray!"
repeated the dying Spiagudry.
" I warned you to be faithful and silent.
You have been faithless, but silent you shall
be in the future, I promise you."
The guardian understood the full sense of
these horrible words, and uttered a low moan.
" Fear not; I will not separate you from
your treasure."
At these words, unloosing his leather belt,
he passed it through the handle of the casket,
and suspended it round Spiagudry's neck,
who bent with the weight.
" Now 1 to what fiend would you confide
your soul? Hasten to call upon him, lest
another demon should first take possession of
it."
The desperate old man, unable to utter a
single word, embraced the other's knees with
a thousand gestures of terrified supplication.
"No! no!" he said. "Listen! faithful
Spiagudry. Do not grieve at leaving your
young companion without a guide. I promise
he shall follow you. You are only going
before to show him the way. Come !"
Grasping the miserable wretch in his arms
of steel, he carried him outside the tower as a
tiger carries a long snake; and a moment
after a terrible cry echoed through the ruins,
mingled with the sounds of horrible laughter.
XXIII.
Yes, one can easily picture the futhfiil lover,
the distant object of his idolatry. But, alas!
the scenes of waiting, the partings, the thoughts,
the sweet and bitter memories, the enchanted
dreams of the lovers! Who can picture them 7
Maturin—Bertram.
Meanwhile the adventurous Ordener, after
having just escaped falling twenty times in
his perilous ascent, arrived on top of the flat
circular wall of the tower. At his unexpected
approach, hundreds of black owls flew away
in a cloud, and some loose stones, struck by
his foot, fell into the darkness, and bounded
upon the projecting rocks with dull and dis¬
tant noises. The next moment Ordener con¬
centrated his eyes upon the depths of the abyss
deepened by the blackness of the night. His
eyes, noticing on the horizon all these great
shadows of which the moon barely lighted
the sombre outlines, had for a long while
sought to distinguish the vapors from the
rocks and the mountains from the clouds;
his imagination had animated all the gigantic
271
272
HAN OF ICELAND
forms, all the fantastic appearances which the
moonlight gave to the mountains and the
mists. He had listened to the distant con¬
fused murmur of the lake and the forests
mingled with the rustle of the dried weeds
disturbed by his feet, and to all these dead
voices by which nature speaks during the
sleep of man and in the silence of the
night. But, although this scene, unknown
to himself, animated his entire being, other
thoughts replaced them. His foot had scarcely
been placed on the summit of the wall, and his
glance turned towards the southern heavens
when an indescribable joy filled his soul, for he
perceived, beyond the angle of two mountains,
a ragged point of light on the horizon, like a
red star. It was the beacon of Munckholm.
Those who do not understand the happiness
which came to the young man, are not des¬
tined to taste the true joys of life. His heart
fluttered with happiness, his breast swelled,
palpitating violently, and he breathed with
difficulty. Immovable, with steady eyes, he
watched the star of consolation and hope. It
seemed to him that this ray of light coming
through the night from the abode of which
held all his happiness, brought to him some¬
thing from his Ethel. Ah! doubtless, spirits
have sometimes, through time and space, some
mysterious communication. In vain the
HAN OF ICELAND
273
material world raises barriers between two
beings who love: in the ideal world of love
they appear to each other in absence, they
are united in death. What effect can corporal
separation, or physical di^ance, have on two
hearts invincibly leagued together by the same
thought and a common desire ? True love may
suffer but cannot die.
Who has not stopped hundreds of times
during rainy nights under some dimly lighted
window ? Who has not passed and repassed
before some door, drawn with delight to some
house ? Who has not of an evening suddenly
turned aside to follow, in the windings of a
deserted street, a fluttering dress or a white
veil suddenly recognized in the shadow ? He
who has not felt these emotions can only say
that he has never loved.
In the presence of the distant beacon of
Munckholm, Ordener meditated. His first
joy had been succeeded by a sad and ironical
satisfaction; a thousand different sentiments
rushed upon his disturbed mind. "Yes," he
said to himself, " man must struggle long and
laboriously in order to at last see a star of
happiness in this immense night. She is there
then ! She sleeps, she dreams, she thinks of
me, perhaps ! But who will tell her that her
Ordener is now, sad and alone, standing in
darkness above an abyss ? Her Ordener, who
274
HAN OF ICELAND
has nothing but a lock of her hair upon his
breast, and a vague gleam on the horizon."
Then, glancing at the red glare from the
large fire burning in the tower, which came
through the breaks in the wall: " Per¬
haps," murmured he, '* from one of the
windows of her prison she throws an indif¬
ferent glance at the distant flame of this
fire."
Suddenly a piercing shriek and a loud burst
of laughter were heard, as though below him
on the edge of the abyss; he turned quickly
and saw that the interior of the tower was
deserted. Then, worried about the old man,
he hastened to descend; but before he had
taken many steps on the staircase there came
to him the rumbling noise as though a heavy
body had fallen in the deep waters of the
lake.
XXIV.
Count Sancho Diaz, Signeur de Saldana wept
bitter tears in his prison.
Full of despair, in his solitude, he denounced
King Alphonse.
" Ah! sad moments, when my white hair
reminds me how many years I have already
passed in this horrible prison."
Spanish Romances.
The sun was setting; its horizontal rays
cast the black shadow of the bars of their
prison window upon Schumacker's cloak and
Ethel's crape dress. They were seated
together near a Gothic crucifix, the old man
on a large Gothic arm-chair, the young girl
upon a stool at his feet. The prisoner seemed
to dream in his usual melancholy position.
His wrinkled brow rested on his hands and one
could see nothing of his face except his white
beard which hung in disorder on his breast.
"Father," said Ethel, who sought in every
way to distract him, " my lord and father, I
have this evening had a dream of a happy
future. See ! lift your eyes, my noble father,
and look at the beautiful sky."
275
276
HAN OF ICELAND
" I do not see the sky," answered the old
man, " except through the bars of my prison,
and so I cannot see your future, Ethel, except
through my misfortunes."
Then his head, lifted for a moment, fell
again on his hand and they were silent.
"My lord and father," continued the girl
in a timid voice a moment later, " are you
thinking of Sir Ordener?"
"Ordener," said the old man, as though
seeking to recall he of whom she was speaking.
"Ah ! I know who you mean; well?"
" Do you think he will soon return, father?
He has been gone a long time. This is the
fourth day."
The old man sadly bowed his head.
" I believe that when we have counted four
years from the time he departed, we will be as
near his return as we are to-day."
Ethel grew pale.
" My God ! Do you believe he will never
come back ?''
Schumacker made no reply. The girl
repeated her question with beseeching accent.
"Has he not promised that he would
return?" said the prisoner roughly.
" Yes, without doubt, my lord !" said Ethel,
impressed.
" Well! How can you expect his return ?
Is he not a man ? I believe the boaster may
HAN OF ICELAND
277
come back a corpse, but I do not think that
he will return in the spring."
Ethel, seeing her father relapsing into
melancholy, was reassured; he had in his
childlike innocent heart a voice which spoke
the disappointed philosophy of an old man.
"Father," said she with excitement, "Sir
Ordener will come back, he is not a man like
other men."
"What do you know about him, girl?"
" Only what you know, my lord and
father."
"I know nothing," said the old man; "I
heard words from a man which promised the
actions of God."
Then he added, with a bitter smile:
" I have reflected over that, and I see that
it was too fine to believe."
" And I, my lord, have believed it, for the
very reason that it was fine."
"Ah! girl, if you were what you should
be. Countess of Tongsberg and Princess of
Wollin, surrounded as you would be by a
train of fine traitors and interested adorers,
that credulity would be a great danger to
you."
" Father, it is not credulity; it is confi¬
dence."
" One can easily perceive, Ethel, that you
have French blood in your veins."
278
HAN OF ICELAND
This idea led the old man, by an imper¬
ceptible transition, to his memories, and he
continued with a sort of self-satisfaction:
" For those who have degraded your father
more than he had been raised, cannot deny
that you are the daughter of Charlotte,
Princess of Tarentum, and that one of your
ancestresses was either Adele or Edde, Count¬
ess of Flanders, whose name you bear."
Ethel was thinking of quite a different
subject.
" Father, you ill-judge noble Ordener."
*' Noble ! my daughter, what reason have
you for using that word ? I have made nobles
who have been very vile."
" I do not mean to say, my lord, that he is
a noble of the nobility."
" Then do you know whether he is
descended from a jarl or from a hersa?'"
" I am as ignorant as you are, father. Per¬
haps," continued she, " he is the son of a serf
or of a vassal. Alas ! they paint crowns and
lyres on the velvet of a footstool. I only
wish to say, with you, my lord, that he is
noble of heart."
Of all the men which she had seen, Ordener
was the one about whom Ethel knew the most
and the least at the same time. He had
appeared to her in her destiny, so to speak,
as one of the angels who visited the early
HAN OF ICELAND
279
mankind, enveloped at the same time in light
and mystery. Their very presence awakened
their nature, and they adored them. Thus
Ordener had allowed Ethel to see what men
hid the most, his heart; he had been silent
upon the subject of which men usually boast
the most willing; his love had satisfied
Ethel, and she had had faith in his words.
She loved him, she had given him her life,
she knew everything of his heart and did not
know his name.
" Noble of heart!" repeated the old man,
" noble of heart! That nobleness is higher
than that given by kings ; it is given by God.
He is less prodigal than they."
Here the prisoner raised his eyes toward
his broken armorals, and added :
"And he never takes back."
" So, father," said the girl, " he who has
the one can easily console himself for the
loss of the other."
This thrilled the old man and gave him
courage. He answered in a firm voice :
" You are right, my girl. But you do not
know that disgrace considered unjust by the
world is sometimes justified by our inner con¬
science. Such is our miserable nature, once
unfortunate, there arises within us, to reproach
us for our faults and errors, a crowd of voices
which lay dormant in prosperity."
0
28o
han of iceland
" Do not speak thus, my illustrious father,"
said Ethel, deeply shocked j for, at the
altered voice of the old man, she felt that he
had let escape the secret of one of the sorrows.
She raised her eyes toward him, and, kissing
his cold withered hand, she continued softly:
" You very severely judge two noble men.
Sir Ordener and yourself, my revered father."
"You decide lightly, Ethel. They would
say that you do not know that life is a grave
affair."
" Have I done wrong then, my lord, to
render justice to generous Ordener?"
Schumacher knitted his brow with a dis¬
satisfied air.
" I cannot, my daughter, approve of your
thus giving your admiration to an unknown,
whom you doubtless will never see again."
" Oh !" said the girl, upon whom these icy
words fell like a weight, "do not believe
that. We will see. Is it not for you that
he has gone to face this danger ?"
" I am like you, as I have admitted, prone
to at first believe in his promises. But, no,
he will not go, and therefore he will never
return to us."
" He will go, my lord, he will!"
The tone in which the young girl pro¬
nounced these words was almost that of a
challenge. She felt insulted through her
HAN OF ICELAND
281
Ordener. Alas ! she was too sure, in her soul,
of what she proclaimed.
The prisoner continued, unmoved :
" Ah, well! If he goes to fight this brigand,
if he faces this danger, it will be all the same;
he will not come back."
Poor Ethel! How a word spoken heed¬
lessly will sometimes open afresh the secret
wound of a torn heart! She bowed her pale
face to hide from the cold glance of her father
two tears which, in spite of her, escaped from
her swollen eyelids.
"Oh, father!" murmured she, "at the
very moment that you are speaking thus, this
unfortunate noble may be dying for you."
The old minister shook his head as a sign
of doubt.
" I do not believe it anymore than I desire
it; besides where would be my crime? I
would have been ungrateful towards this young
man, as many others have been ungrateful
towards me."
A deep sigh was Ethel's only response; and
Schumacher, leaning towards his desk, con¬
tinued, with a distracted air, to tear up some
sheets of Plutarch's Lives of Illustrious Men, a
volume of which, already torn in twenty
places, and covered with notes, was before him.
A moment later the noise of an opening
door was heard, and Schumacher, without
282
HAN OF ICELAND
turning, cried out his habitual refusal: " Let
no one enter! Leave me; I do not wish
anyone to enter."
"It is His Excellency, the Governor,"
answered the voice of the usher.
Indeed, an old man, dressed in the full
uniform of a general, bearing at his neck the
collars of the Elephant, of the Dannebrog and
of the Golden Fleece, advanced towards Schu-
macker, who half arising, repeated under his
breath: "The governor! the governor!"
The general respectfully saluted Ethel, who,
standing beside her father, watched him with
a disturbed and uneasy look.
Perhaps, before going further, it would be
well to recall in a few words the motive of
this visit of General Levin to Munckholm.
The reader has not forgotten the annoying
news which tormented the old governor as
related in Chapter XX. of this true tale. Upon
receiving it, the necessity of questioning Schu¬
macher at once rose in the mind of the general;
but he did not decide to pursue this course
without extreme repugnance. The idea of
going to torment an unfortunate prisoner,
already subject to many torments, and whom
he had seen so powerful, to probe the secrets
of the unhappy, however guilty, was displeas¬
ing to his kind and generous heart. However,
the service of the king was urgent; and he
HAN OF ICELAND
283
ought not to leave Drontheim without hearing
whatever new information might be had by
questioning the apparent author of the miners'
insurrection. Therefore upon the evening
preceding his departure, but only after a long
confidential interview with the Countess
d'Ahlefeld, the governor decided to see the
captive. Approaching the castle, the idea
that the interests of the State, the possibility
of his being accused of neglect and perhaps
the crafty words of the grand chancellor, ran
through his head. He therefore mounted to
the donjon of the Lion of Sleswig full of pro¬
jects of severity; he promised himself that he
would be to the conspirator Schumacher as
though he had never known the Chancellor
Griffenfeld, keep back all memories, and,
in keeping with his assumed character, to
speak to his former favored and powerful
confrere in the tone of an inflexible judge.
However, as soon as he enters the apart¬
ment of the ex-chancellor, the venerable,
albeit somewhat morose, face of the old man
struck him J Ethel's gentle yet haughty face
moved him; and the first sight of the two pris¬
oners had already dissipated half his severity.
He advanced towards the fallen minister,
and involuntarily extended his hand, saying
without noticing that the other did not
respond to his politeness:
284
HAN OF ICELAND
"Greeting, Count Griffenf ..." This
was the surprise of an old habit. He con¬
tinued precipitately: "Lord Schumacker !"
—Then he stopped, quite satisfied and quite
exhausted with such an effort.
He paused. The general sought in his
brain some words severe enough to follow the
severity of this beginning.
"Well," said Schumacher, at last, "you
are governor of the Drontheimhus ?" .
The general, a little surprised at being
questioned by he whom he had come to ques¬
tion, made an affirmative sign.
" In that case," continued the prisoner, " I
have a complaint to make to you."
"A complaint! What? What?" And
the face of the noble Levin assumed an
expression of interest.
Schumacher continued with an air of ill-
humor :
" An order of the viceroy prescribes that I
shall be left free and unmolested in this
donjon."
" I know the order."
" My lord governor, some one, nevertheless,
persists in importunating me and in entering
my prison."
" Who ?" cried the general; " name to me
he who dares . . ."
"You, my lord governor."
HAN OF ICELAND
These words, pronounced in a haughty
tone, wounded the general. He replied in an
almost irritated voice:
"You forget that my powers, when exer¬
cised in the service of the king, know no
limits."
" If they do not," said Schumacher, " those
of respect for the unfortunate should. But
men do not know that."
The ex-grand chancellor spoke thus, as
though he were speaking to himself. He was
heard by the governor.
" Very true, very true! I was wrong.
Count Griff . . . My Lord Schumacher, I
mean to say ; I should leave anger to you,
since I have power."
Schumacher was silent for an instant.
" There is," he continued thoughtfully,
"in your face and your voice, my lord gov¬
ernor, something which reminds me of a man
whom I have known already. It was a long
time ago. There are none but I who remem¬
ber that time. It was during my prosperity.
There was a certain Levin de Knud, of
Mecklenburg. Did you know this mad¬
man?"
" I knew him," replied the general, without
feeling.
" Ah ! you remember him. I thought one
never remembered men except in adversity."
286
HAN OF ICELAND
"Was he not a captain in the royal
militia?" continued the governor.
"Yes, a simple captain, nevertheless the
king was very fond of him. But he thought
only of pleasure and showed no ambition. He
had a singularly extravagant mind. Could
one conceive a similar moderation of desire
in a favorite ?"
" But that might be conceived."
"I like him well enough, this Levin de
Knud, because he did not annoy me. He
was friends with the king as with any other
man. It was said that he loved him only
for his own pleasure, and not at all for his
fortune."
The general tried to interrupt Schumacher;
but he continued, either from persistency or
from stubbornness, or because memory was
indeed strongly awakened in him :
" Since you knew this Captain Levin, my
lord governor, you doubtless know that he
had a son, who died quite young. But do
you remember what happened at the birth of
this son ?''
" I remember much better what happened
at his death," said the general in an altered
voice, and shading his eyes with his hand.
"But," continued the indifferent Schu¬
macher, "it is a fact known to few persons,
and which will show you all the sadness of
HAN OF ICELAND 287
this Levin. The king wished to hold the
child at the font, in baptism; would you
believe that Levin refused ? He did more;
he chose for the godfather of his son an old
mendicant who begged at the gates of the
palace. I have never been able to compre¬
hend the motive for such an act of insanity."
"I will tell you," answered the general.
" In choosing a protection for the soul of his
son, this Captain Levin doubtless thought that
a beggar is nearer God than a king."
Schumacker reflected an instant and said :
" You are right."
The governor tried again to lead the con¬
versation to the object of his visit. But Schu¬
macker prevented him.
" Pray, if it is true that this Levin of
Mecklenburg is not unknown to you, let me
talk to you about him. Of all the men that I
knew in the time of my greatness, he is the
only one of whom the recollection brings to
me neither disgust nor horror. If he pushed
his singularity almost to folly, he was none
the less, by his noble qualities, a man such as
one seldom meets."
" I do not agree with you. This Levin was
no better than other men. There are many
others more worthy than he."
Schumacker crossed his arms, and raised his
eyes to heaven.
288
HAN OF ICELAND
" Yes, that is how they all are ! One can¬
not praise before them a man worthy of being
praised without their seeking to blacken him.
They are poisoned even to the pleasure of just
praise. It is nowadays very rare."
" If you knew me, you would not accuse
me of defaming you . . . that is to say.
Captain Levin."
" Spare me ! spare me !" said the prisoner,
" for loyalty and generosity there were never
two men like this Levin de Knud, and to say
anything to the contrary is to libel him and
at the same time praise beyond measure this
execrable human race!"
"I assure you," continued the governor,
seeking to calm Schumacker's anger, " that I
have never had a single perfidious intention
against Levin de Knud."
" Do not say that. Even although he was
thoughtless, all men are far from resembling
him. They are false, ungrateful, envious,
calumniators. Do you know that Levin de
Knud gives more than half his revenue to the
hospitals at Copenhagen?"
" I did not know what you have just told
me."
"That is it!" cried the old man with a
triumphant air. "He hopes to be able to
dishonor him safely, confident that I did not
know of the good actions of poor Levin 1"
HAN OF ICELAND
289
" No, no!"
" And do you think that I do not know
that he caused the regiment which the king
intended for him, to be given to an officer
who had wounded him. Levin de Knud, in a
duel; because, as he said, the other was older
than he ?''
'' I will, however, believe this secret action.''
" Tell me then, my lord governor of the
Drontheimhus, is he any the less good on that
account ? Because Levin hides his virtues, is
that a reason for denying them ? Oh ! men
are all the same ! Dare to confound them with
noble Levin, he who, having been unable to
save a captured soldier who had tried to
assassinate him, gave a pension to the widow
of his would-be murderer."
"Well, who would not have done as
much?"
" He," Schumacher burst forth.
" Who ? you ! me ! all men, my lord gov¬
ernor ! Because you wear the brilliant uni¬
form of a general and medals of honor on
your breast, do you believe in your own
merit ? You are a general, and the unfortu¬
nate Levin will die a captain. It is true he
was a madman, and never thought of his own
advancement."
"If he has not thought for himself, the
kindness of the king has thought for him."
290
HAN OF ICELAND
"The kindness? Say the justice! If
indeed one can speak of the justice of a king.
Well! what insignificant reward have they
given him?"
" His majesty has paid Levin de Knud well
beyond the measure of his merit.''
" Marvelous I" cried the minister, clapping
his hands. " A loyal captain has perhaps,
after thirty years of service, been made major,
and this high favor displeases you, noble
general ? A Persian proverb is right in say¬
ing that the setting sun is jealous of the rising
moon."
Schumacker was so irritated that the general
with difficulty could get him to listen to him.
" If you will interrupt me—if you will
prevent me explaining to you . . ."
"No, no!" continued the other, "I
believed, my lord general, at first, that I
noticed some features of resemblance between
you and good Levin; but, alas! there is not
a single one.''
" But, listen to me . . ."
" Listen to you ! While you tell me that
Levin de Knud is insulted by such a misera¬
ble reward!"
" I swear to you that it is not . . ."
" You will return by-and-by, I expect, you
other men, to tell me that he is, like all of
you, a cheat, a hypocrite, wicked."
HAN OF ICELAND
291
"Truly, no."
"How can I know? Perhaps he has
betrayed a friend, persecuted a benefactor, as
you have all done—or poisoned his father, or
assassinated his mother?"
" You are in error ... I am far from
wishing . . ."
" Do you know what it was that induced the
Vice-Chancellor Wind, likewise Scheel, Vind-
ing and Justice Lasson, three of my judges,
not to vote for sentence of death ? And do
you wish me, seriously, to slander him ! Yes,
it is thus that he has acted towards me, and
yet I have always done him more ill than
good; for I am as I seem to you, vile and
wicked."
Noble Levin, during this strange interrup¬
tion, experienced a strange emotion. An
object, at the same time, of the most abusive
insults and the most sincere praise, he no more
knew how to receive such rude compliments than
to accept such open flattery. He was shocked
and moved. One moment he felt like rush¬
ing away, in another like thanking Schu-
macker. Present and unknown, he enjoyed
seeing the savage Schumacker defending him,
an absent friend; only, he would have been
glad if his advocate had put a little less
bitterness and tardiness in his panegyric. But,
at the bottom of his soul, the furious eulogies
292
HAN OF ICELAND
given to Captain Levin moved him more than
the insults addressed to the governor of Dron-
theim wounded him. Bending his kindly
glance on the disgraced favorite he allowed
him to exhaust his indignation and his grati¬
tude. He at last, after a long declamation
against human ingratitude, fell exhausted in
the arm-chair, into the arms of trembling
Ethel, repeating in a sorrowful voice: " Oh !
men, what have I done to you that you judge
me ?"
The general had not yet been able to broach
the important subject which had brought him to
Munckholra. All his dislike to torment the
captive by questioning came back to him;
his pity and tenderness together were two
strong enough reasons : the agitated state into
which Schumacher had fallen left no hope that
he would be able to answer in a satisfactory
manner; and besides, considering the matter
on its face, it did not seem to him that such a
man could be a conspirator. Nevertheless,
how could he leave Drontheim without having
questioned Schumacher? This annoying
duty in his position of governor once more
vanquished his hesitation, and he com¬
menced thus, in the mildest possible tone of
voice:
" Calm your agitation a little. Count Schu¬
macher. '' It was by a happy inspiration that
HAN OF ICELAND
293
the good governor had found this qualifica¬
tion, since he was able to satisfy in his con¬
science the respect due to the sentence of
degradation and his regard for the unhappy
man, by uniting his title of nobility to his
common name. He continued :
" It is a painful duty which has brought me
here . .
"Before all," interrupted the prisoner,
" allow me, my lord governor, to speak to
you of a thing which interests me much more
than what your excellency can have to say to
me. You assured me just now that they had
recompensed this madman Levin for his ser¬
vices. I would very much like to know
how."
" His Majesty, my Lord Griffenfeld, raised
Levin to the rank of general, and for more
than twenty years this madman has lived
peaceably, honored with this military dignity
and the good-will of his king."
Schumacker bowed his head.
" Yes, this madman Levin, who cared little
whether he would ever be a captain, will die
a general, and wise Schumacker, who expected
to die a grand chancellor, lives a prisoner of
State."
Thus speaking, the captive covered his face
with his hands, and long sighs escaped from
his breast. Ethel, who did not understand
294
HAN OF ICELAND
the conversation which saddened her father,
at once sought to distract him.
" Father, look there, to the north, there is
a bright light which I have noticed on other
evenings."
Indeed, night, which had just fallen,
showed a feeble light, which seemed to come
from some distant mountain. But Schu¬
macher's eye and mind did not, like Ethel's,
constantly turn towards the north, so he did
not reply.
The general alone was struck by the remark
of the young girl. " It is, perhaps," said he
to himself, "a. fire burned by the revolu¬
tionists;" and this idea forcibly reminded
him of the reason of his presence, and he
addressed the prisoner:
"My Lord Griffenfeld, I am ashamed to
annoy you, but you must submit ..."
" I understand, my lord governor, it is not
enough that I must pass my days in this
donjon, to live banished and abandoned, to
have nothing but my better thoughts of former
grandeur and power, you must violate my
solitude in order to gaze upon my sorrows
and to jeer at my misfortunes. Since noble
Levin de Knud, of whom many of your per¬
sonal traits remind me, is a general as well as
you, it would have pleased me very much if
they had given him the post you occupy, for
HAN OF ICELAND
295
he would not have come, I assure you, my
lord governor, to torment an unfortunate man
in his prison."
During this odd speech, the governor had
been more than once on the point of reveal¬
ing himself in order to make him cease. This
indirect reproach of Schumacher took from
him the power to do so. It accorded so well
with his own sentiments that it filled him with a
feeling of shame for himself. He, nevertheless,
tried to respond to Schumacher's overwhelming
supposition. Strange ! Owing to the only dif¬
ference in their characters, these two men had
changed positions. The judge was, in a way,
forced to justify himself before the accused.
"But," said the general, "if duty had
forced him, no doubt Levin de Knud ..."
" I doubt it, noble governor !" cried Schu¬
macher; "you know yourself that he would
have rejected, with all the generous indigna¬
tion of his soul, any suggestion to act as spy
and add to the tortures of an unhappy captive !
Never, I know him better than you, under no
circumstances would he have accepted the
functions of the torturer. Meantime, my
lord general, I listen. Do what you call your
duty. What does your excellence wish of
me?"
And the old minister fixed his gaze on the
governor. All the latter's resolutions had
«
296
HAN OF ICELAND
disappeared. His first repugnance had re¬
turned, and returned invincible.
" Fine grounds," said he to himself, " for
coming to torment an unhappy man on mere
suspicion ! They may send some one else tlian
me!"
The effect of these reflections was prompt;
he advanced towards the astonished Schu-
macker and shook his hand. Then leaving
precipitately: " Count Schumacher," said he,
" always retain the same esteem for Levin de
Knud."
The little man, quick as lightning, plunged his dagger into the
mountaineer, whose identity was now discovered, as he fell on the
soldier's body.—Han of Iceland, Vol. II., 237.
HAN OF ICELAND
XXV.
Lion—[/^oarin^]. Oh—
Pemei'RIUs.—Well roared, Lion.
Midsummer Night 'r Dream, Act V.
Shakespeare.
The traveler who nowadays explores the
snow-covered mountains which surround Lake
Smiasen like a white coverlet, do not find a
single vestige of what the seventeenth century
Norwegians called the ruin of Arbar. We
will never be able to tell what sort of human
structure, what kind of edifice, the ruin was,
if we can give it that name. Coming out of
the forest which surrounded the southern part
of the lake, after having climbed the remains
here and there of walls and the remains of the
towers, one noticed an open arch which
pierced the flank of the mountain. This open¬
ing, nowadays entirely filled up with earth,
was the entrance to a sort of gallery cut in the
living rock. This gallery, feebly lighted by
conical vents, built in the vault at regular
distances, ended in a sort of oblong oval hall
half cut in the rock and half of Cyclopean
7
8
HAN OF ICELAND
masonry. Around this hall one noticed, in
deep niches, rudely carved figures of granite.
Some of these mysterious effigies, fallen from
their pedestals, lay pell-mell on the flags, with
others shattered beyond recognition, covered
with weeds and moss, across which glided
lizards, spiders and all hideous insects which
live in the earth and in ruins. Daylight never
penetrated into this place except by a door
opposite the mouth of the gallery. This door,
viewed from a certain side, had an ogive
form, but roughly done, without period and
without date, and evidently arranged by the
architect by chance. One might have called
this door a window, since it opened upon an
immense precipice; and one could not under¬
stand where three or four steps, cut in the
edge, outside and below this singular outlet,
could lead.
This hall was on the inside, a sort of gigan¬
tic tourelle, which, from a distance, seen from
the side of the precipice, seemed like one of
the peaks of the mountain. This tourelle was
isolated, and, as we have already said, no one
knew to what edifice it had belonged. One
could only see, above, on a plateau inacces¬
sible to the most daring hunter, a mass which
may be taken, on account of the distance, for a
curved rock on the debris of a colossal arcade.
This tourelle and fallen arcade were known to
HAN OF ICELAND
9
the peasants under the name of the ruins of
Arbar. They know no more of the origin of
the name than of the origin of the mountains.
Seated upon a stone placed in the middle
of this elliptical hall, was a little man, clothed
in the skins of animals, whom we have already
many times had occasion to meet in the course
of this work. His back was turned to the
light, which, at the most, was only a dim
twilight in the sombre tourelle even while at
midday.
He was leaning over some object, not dis¬
tinguishable, but evidently a living body, by
the slight perceptible motion and the feeble
groans which issued from it. The little man
now and again took long draughts of some
warm liquid from a goblet formed of a human
skull.
All at once he rose suddenly.
"Some one is in the gallery. Can the
chancellor of two kingdoms have arrived?"
These words were followed by a burst of
laughter, ending in a savage roar, which was
suddenly taken up by a howl.
"Oh, oh !" said the denizen of the ruin of
Arbar. "This is no man, but a wolf; an
enemy, for all that."
Indeed, suddenly a fierce-eyed wolf ap¬
peared, and crept stealthily toward the man,
who stood with folded arms watching him.
lO
HAK OF ICELAND
" Ah! SO it is the old grizzly wolf, the oldest
of the forests of Smiasen. Good day, wolf,
how are you? There is a brightness about
your eyes; you are famished, and the scent of
a corpse attracts you. What an attraction
you will soon be for hungry wolves ! You are
welcome, Smiasen Wolf; I have always longed
to meet you; and you have arrived at such
an age that people believe you will never die.
They will not say that to-morrow.''
The animal sprang back with a fearful howl,
and then bounded forward on to the little
man.
He did not move a step. Quick as light¬
ning with his right hand he seized the wolf,
who had planted his claws on the man's
shoulders: with the other he caught the ani¬
mal by the throat, to protect his face from its
gaping jaws, with such a grasp that the wolf
howled with pain.
"Wolf of Smiasen," said the man trium¬
phantly, "you are tearing my jacket; but
your skin will make a good substitute !"
He had just followed his shout of victory
with some curious jargon, when the wolf gave
a sudden jerk, which threw them both to the
ground. The cries from the man were
mingled with the howls of the beast.
Compelled by the fall to release the animal's
throat, the little man soon felt his shoulder
HAN OF ICELAND
II
pierced with its sharp teeth. Thus rolling
over one another, the combatants struck
against an enormous white mass lying in the
darkest part of the room.
It consisted of a bear, who rose growling,
thus awakened from his heavy slumbers.
When he could distinguish what was going
forward, he made a furious bound—not on the
man, but on to the wolf, who was gaining
ground, and seizing him violently, he freed
the adversary with the human face.
The latter, completely blood-stained, rose
up. Far from showing gratitude for so great
a service, the man treated the bear as a man
does his dog when in disgrace—kicked him.
" Friend, who called you ? Mind your own
business !'' said he, furiously gnashing his teeth.
" Be off," added he, reddening.
The bear, who had been kicked by the man
and bitten by the wolf, gave forth a plaintive
moan, and retired, thus releasing the famished
animal, who threw himself on to the man with
renewed vigor.
While the struggle continued the bear
remained quietly in his sleeping quarters,
stroking down his white muzzle with his paws,
and looking on the two enemies with the
utmost indifference.
But the little man, when the wolf returned
to the charge, seized him by the muzzle, and
12
HAN OF ICELAND
then caught hold of his throat. The animal,
both from rage and pain, made desperate
struggles for release. He foamed at the mouth,
and his eyes seemed ready to start from his
head. Of the two adversaries, he whose bones
were splintered by the sharpest of fangs, whose
flesh was torn by fierce nails, belonged not to
the man, but the wild beast; the savage
expressions and the frightful howling came not
from the wild beast, but from the man.
At last, weakened by the wolf's long resist¬
ance, Han made a final effort, and grasped
him with both hands by the muzzle, till blood
flowed from the nose and mouth; his eyes
half-closed, and he fell at his conqueror's feet.
Feeble movements and trembling showed that
he was not yet entirely dead.
All at once a convulsive movement shook
the dying animal, and life soon ceased to
exist.
" So you are dead !" said the little man,
kicking the body contemptuously. " Did you
think to lengthen your days after meeting me ?
You won't follow scent in quest of prey again
through the snow. The wolves and vultures
will now have their turn, and take it out of
you. What lost travelers about Smiasen you
must have devoured during your long, murder¬
ous career ! Now, there you lie dead, never
again to feast on man—more is the pity 1"
HAN OF ICELAND
13
Using a sharp flint, he soon dismantled the
wolf, and covered himself with the animal's
warm and gory skin, turned inside out. His
shoulders, torn by the wolf's fangs, were thus
out of sight.
"I must," growled he, between his teeth,
" clothe myself in the skin of beasts, for that
of man is too thin to protect me from the
cold."
Whilst thus meditating, he looked more
hideous than his hideous trophy. The bear,
weary of waiting, stealthily advanced toward
the mass before mentioned and soon amid the
gloom was heard the grinding of teeth,
mingled with faint and plaintive moans.
"Friend!" cried the man threateningly.
"Ah, you wretched Friend! come here, I
tell you!"
And picking up a large stone he threw it at
the monster's head, who, though stunned by
the blow, rose up reluctantly from the feast,
smacking his lips, and ambled toward his
master's feet. With a pleading expression he
raised his head mutely asking pardon for his
indiscretion.
Then both monsters could now be heard—
for the denizen of the ruin of Arbar had well
earned the title. The man's voice denoted
power and anger; the bear's growl submission
and pleading.
14
HAN OF ICELAND
" Hold!" said the man, pointing with his
crooked fingers towards the wolf, " there is
your prey, leave me mine."
The bear, after having sniffed the body of
the wolf, shook his head with a dissatisfied air
and turned towards the man who seemed to be
his master.
" I understand you. Dead prey is not to
your liking; you prefer the other, as it still
has life. You are refined in your tastes!
Friend, like man, you seek the living in
order to destroy them. You delight in causing
suffering; there we have a fellow feeling, for
I am not a man. Friend. I am above that
depraved race—I am a savage beast like your¬
self. Companion Friend, I wish you could
speak, just to say if your bearish feelings
equal my delight at devouring a man. Yet I
would rather not hear you, for the sound might
remind me of the human voice. Growl at my
feet! The roar which terrifies the mountain
deer to me is a friendly voice, for it fore¬
warns me that an enemy is nigh. Friend,
raise up your head; lick my hand with the
tongue that has so often partaken of human
blood ! Your teeth are white like mine—no
fault of yours, for we have done our best to
change them red; but it seems that blood
cleanses blood. I have often noticed young
girls of Kole or Oelmce bathing their feet in
HAN OF ICELAND
the torrents and singing sweetly the while.
In preference to their melodious voices and
satin-like faces, I delight in your shaggy
muzzle and hoarse cries; they strike terror
to a man."
While thus musing, he allowed the monster
to caress his hand, and show him all the
affection a spaniel displays towards his mis¬
tress.
What was still more strange was the rapt
attention with which the animal listened to
his master's words, more particularly to odd
monosyllables, which he at once acknowl¬
edged by some curious sound.
" Men say I shun them," continued the
little man. "Why, they shun me! They
from fear, and I from hatred. Yet, Friend,
you know I am glad to meet a man when I feel
hungry or thirsty."
Suddenly a red light appeared, increasing
gradually and giving a faint color to the old
damp walls of the gallery.
" Why, here comes one now ! Well, speak
of hell and the devil shows his horns. Hello !
Friend," added he, turning toward the bear;
"hello, get up! Come, Friend! I must
reward your obedience by satisfying your
appetite.''
Turning with his hatchet to the mass on the
ground, he soon crunched through the bones;
i6
HAN OF ICELAND
but the sound this time was not blended with
either sighs or groans.
"So it seems there are but two living
creatures here now," muttered the man.
"There, Friend, my Friend, enjoy your
feast."
The animal rose immediately.
He threw aside the portion detached from
the object at his feet. The bear seized his
prey so eagerly, that the most sharp-sighted
could hardly have seen if the morsel were
a human arm, covered with green, such as
the uniform worn by Munckholm musketeers.
"See! some one approaches!" His gaze
fixed on the light as it gradually increased.
" Friend, I must be alone."
The monster obeyed ; taking with him his
disgusting prey, he retreated through the door
and down the steps, with a howl of satisfac¬
tion.
At the same time a man of medium height
came forward, bearing a long brown cloak,
and carrying a dark lantern, with the bull's-
eye turned full on the little man.
He, still seated on the stone, with his arms
crossed, cried out:
" You are unwelcome !—you who come
here led by an idea, and not from instinct."
The stranger made no reply, but looked at
him attentively.
HAN OF ICELAND
17
"Stare on," said he, raising his head.
" Why, in an hour's time you won't have
enough voice left even to boast you have seen
me."
The new-comer continued casting the light
on the little man, evidently more surprised
than alarmed.
" Well, what astonishes you?" said he, with
a hoarse laugh. " I have arms and legs as
well as you, only mine will never be food for
wild cats and crows."
" Listen," said the stranger, sinking his
voice, as though assured and as though he
only feared being overheard.
" Listen, 1 am not come as an enemy, but
as a friend."
The other interrupted him.
" Why then have you not laid aside your
human form?"
" I wish to serve you, if you are he whom
I search."
" That means, you want me to serve you.
Man, you are wasting time. I am only of use
to those who are weary of life."
" Your speech denotes the man I am seek¬
ing," replied the stranger, "but your height
—Han of Iceland is a giant; you cannot there¬
fore be he."
" This is the first time any one has doubted
it to my face."
i8
HAN OF ICELAND
" What! then you are the person," added
the stranger, approaching ; " but Han of
Iceland is of colossal stature."
" Add my height to my fame, and you will
see me taller than Hecla."
" Indeed! answer me, I pray you, are
you really Han, native of Klipstadur, in Ice¬
land?"
"It is not with words that I will answer
that question," retorted the little man. Ris¬
ing, he accompanied the remark with such a
look that the stranger drew back.
" Confine yourself, I pray, to looks only,"
he answered in an almost supplicant voice,
and with a glance toward the end of the
gallery, as though regretting his rash
venture. "Your interests alone bring me
here."
At first, on arrival, the new-comer had been
able to retain his coolness, but now, when the
host of Arbar stood before him, with tiger,
like expression and blood-stained appearance,
his immense hands armed with huge nails, the
stranger shuddered in the same way a traveler
would do on being bitten by a viper, when he
thought to handle an eel.
"My interests!" replied the monster.
" Have you come to inform me that a spring
is to be poisoned, or a village burnt down, or
a Munckholm musketeer to be strangled?"
Han op iceland
'9
" Perhaps, listen. The Norway miners are
in a revolt. You know what disasters a revolt
entails."
" Yes. Murder 1 violence! sacrilege 1 fire !
pillage!"
" I offer you all that."
The little man began to laugh.
" I have no need of offers of what I can
take myself."
The hoarse laugh which followed these
words made the stranger tremble. He con¬
tinued, however:
" In the name of the miners I offer you the
command of the insurrection."
The little man was silent for a moment,
then, with an expression of deep malice, he
said:
" Is it really in their name that you make
the offer?"
This question somewhat disconcerted the
new-comer, but feeling secure in his unknown
identity, he soon recovered himself.
"Why are the miners in revolt?" he was
asked.
" To free themselves from the royal
tax."
" Only for that?" retorted the other in the
same mock tone.
"They wish also to set the prisoner at
Munckholm at liberty."
20
HAN OF ICELAND
" Is this the sole reason for the move¬
ment ?" answered he, in such a tone as to dis¬
concert the stranger.
" I know of no other," stammered the latter.
" Ah! so you know of no other?"
These words were pronounced in the same
ironical tone. To put an end to these embar¬
rassing remarks the stranger drew forth a
heavy purse, which he threw at the monster's
feet, saying;
" There is your pay as commander."
The little man kicked away the purse.
" I won't have it. Do you think I should
wait for your permission to take either your
blood or yoiu: gold ?''
The stranger made a gesture of surprise and
fear.
" The royal miners sent me with that as a
present to you."
" I don't want it, I tell you; gold is of no
use to me. Men sell their souls, but they
will not sell their lives; we are therefore com¬
pelled to take them."
" I can then tell the miners that the for¬
midable Han of Iceland agrees to accept the
command ?"
"I do not accept it."
This answer, said shortly, made a disagree¬
able impression on the pretended envoy of
the miners.
HAN OF ICELAND
21
"What?" said he.
" No !" repeated the other.
"You refuse to talce part in an expedi¬
tion which promises so many advantages to
you?"
" I can plunder farms and hamlets, massa¬
cre peasants or soldiers, alone."
" Yes, but in joining the miners you are
assured of impunity."
" And is it also in the name of the miners
that you promise impunity?" asked the other,
laughing.
" I will not disguise from you," replied the
stranger, mysteriously, " that it is in the name
of a powerful personage who is interested
in the rebellion."
"And this mighty person himself, is he
quite sure he will not be hanged ?"
"If you knew to whom I allude, your
doubts would cease."
"Ah; well, then, who is it?"
" That I cannot tell you."
The little man advanced, and striking the
stranger on the shoulder, exclaimed, with the
same ironical laugh:
" Shall I tell you the name?"
The stranger in the cloak drew back, both
from fear and disgust, as he was as little pre¬
pared for the direct question as the savage
familiarity of the monster.
22
HAN OF ICELAND
"There, I am having a game with you,"
continued the latter. " I know that this
mighty person is the Grand Chancellor of
Denmark and Norway, and that the grand
chancellor is yourself."
This was indeed the case. When he reached
the ruin of Arbar, towards which we left him
journeying with Musdoemon, he had wished to
try and seduce the brigand himself, to whom
he was far from suspecting himself known.
Count d'Ahlefeld was never, in spite of all
his finesse and power, able to discover by what
means Han of Iceland was so well informed.
Was it by Musdoemon's treachery? It was
Musdoemon, it is true, who had suggested the
idea of his going in person to the brigand ;
but what benefit would his perfidy be to him ?
Had the brigand secured from one of his
victims some papers relative to the grand
chancellor's projects ? But Frederick d'Ahle¬
feld, with Musdoemon, was the sole living
being who knew of his father's plans, and,
frivolous as he was, he was not so foolish as to
reveal such a secret. Besides, he was with the
garrison at Munckholm, at least so the grand
chancellor thought. Those who read the
balance of this chapter will see, without being
any better informed than Count d'Ahlefeld,
what grounds of probability there was in this
last hypothesis.
HAN OF ICELAND
23
One of Count d'Ahlefeld's strongest quali¬
ties was his presence of mind. When he
heard himself so fiercely named by the little
man, he could make no respond except a cry
of surprise; but in a twinkling of an eye his
pale and haughty features changed from an
expression of fear and astonishment to one
of calm assurance.
" Yes, I wish to be frank with you. I am
the chancellor. Now be equally frank with
me."
A burst of laughter from the other inter¬
rupted him.
" Did I require much begging, either to tell
you my name or your own ?''
" Tell me as frankly how you knew who I
was?"
" Have you heard that Han of Iceland can
see through mountains?"
The count still persisted.
" In me you have a friend."
" Give me your hand. Count d'Ahlefeld,"
said the little man roughly. Then looking the
minister in the face, he cried: " If our two souls
were to take flight at this moment, satan would
be puzzled as to which of us is the monster."
The haughty noble bit his lips; but, placed
between his fears of the brigand and the
necessity of making him his tool, he showed
no signs of displeasure.
24
HAN OF ICELAND
"Don't play with your own interests;
accept the command of the insurgents, and
trust to my gratitude.''
" Chancellor of Norway, you reckon on the
success of your enterprise as an old woman
does on the dress she is about weaving from
stolen flax, little dreaming the cat has entan¬
gled the thread in its claws."
" Once more, reflect before you reject my
offer."
"Once more I—the brigand—I tell you,
grand chancellor of two kingdoms. No."
" I expected another answer, judging from the
great service you have already rendered me."
" What service ?" asked the brigand.
" Did you not murder Captain Dispolsen ?"
answered the chancellor.
" That may be. Count d'Ahlefeld; I do not
know him. Who is the man to whom you are
alluding ?"
" What! do you mean to say that the iron
casket in his charge has not fallen into your
hands ?''
This question evidently recalled something
to the brigand's mind.
" I certainly do remember seeing this man
and his iron casket. It was at the Sands of
Urchtal."
" If you could let me have that casket, my
gratitude shall know no bounds. Tell me.
HAN OF ICELAND
25
What has become of it ? For it is still in your
power."
The noble minister insisted so urgently
in his demand that the brigand seemed
astonished.
" This iron box is then of the highest im¬
portance to your grace, Chancellor of Nor¬
way ?''
"Yes."
" What will be my reward if I tell you
where to find it?"
" All that you can desire, my dear Han of
Iceland."
" Well, then, I won't tell you."
" Come, you are joking. Only think of the
service you will render me."
" That is precisely what I am considering."
" You shall have an immense fortune, and
I will ask the king for your pardon."
"Ask rather for your own," said the
brigand. " Now listen. Grand Chancellor of
Denmark and Norway. Tigers do not attack
hyenas, so you shall leave here alive, for you
are a villain, whose sole thought in life is to
plan for man's misery, thus adding fresh crime
to yourself. Go, but never attempt to return,
for my hatred spares no one, not even
criminals. Now don't flatter yourself I killed
the captain on your account; why, his uniform
condemned him. Nor was it to render you
26
HAN OF ICELAND
a service that I killed this other wretch, I
assure you."
Thus speaking, he drew the count by the
arm toward the body lying in the shadow. The
light from the dark lantern fell full on the
object. It was the mangled corpse of a man
clothed in the uniform of an officer of the
Munckholm musketeers. The chancellor
shudderingly advanced, and beheld a blood¬
stained face, with its parted lips all blue, the
eyes upturned, from which all light had fled.
The count gave a piercing cry.
" Heaven ! Frederick ! my son !"
There is no doubt that in the most hardened
sinner there is some hidden feeling, lost even
to themselves amid a life of passion and vice—
a mysterious witness proving a future avenger.
It bides its time, remaining in the heart until
the day it shows that crime shall know what
anguish means. No ordinary misfortune can
affect the wicked and selfish. Let some deep
grief unexpectedly arise, then it eats into their
very soul, and the affection, quite unknown
even to themselves, will assert itself in all its
depths and pain, stronger from its previous
state of insensibility ; but the sting of sorrow
must probe the heart deeply. Nature has its
rights, and the wretched creature in one
short moment experiences all the agony which
he has scoffed at for years. Tortured by
HAN OF ICELAND
27
conflicting emotions, in his despair he sees but
hell in itself.
Without knowing it Count d'Ahlefeld loved
his son. We say his son, because he was
ignorant of the adultery of his wife. Frederick,
direct heir to his name, had this title in his
eyes. Believing him to be at Munckholm, he
little thought to find him in the ruins of
Arbar, there lying dead before his eyes, bathed
in blood. The love for his son rose in full
force with the certainty that he was lost
beyond recall. Overcome by the fearful
shock, he wrung his hands in anguish, crying:
"My son! my son!"
The brigand laughed; it was a horrible
thing to hear the sound of laughter, mingled
with the father's moans over the dead body of
his son.
"By my ancestor, Ingulphus, you may cry
out. Count d'Ahlefeld; you will never awake
him."
Suddenly his fearful countenance changed,
and he added, solemnly:
" Cry over your son; I have avenged
mine."
He was interrupted by sounds of footsteps
in the gallery. Four men, with drawn swords,
rushed forward, followed by a short man in a
brown cloak like the chancellor's, bearing a
torch in one hand and a sword in the other.
28
HAN OF ICELAND
" My lord !" cried he, " we heard your cry,
and hastened to the rescue."
The reader has doubtless recognized Mus-
dcsmon and the four armed servants who com¬
posed the count's suite.
The new-comers, by the light from the
torch, beheld with horror the frightful spec¬
tacle. On one side lay the remains of the
wolf, wet with gore, and on the other the dis¬
figured corpse of the young officer. In the
midst the father with haggard face crying in
his despair, and near to him the dreadful
brigand's hideous countenance boldly con¬
fronting them.
On seeing this unexpected reinforcement,
the idea of vengeance occurred to the count,
and his despair turned to rage.
" Death to this brigand!" cried he, draw¬
ing his sword. " He has murdered my son!
Death! death!"
" He has murdered Lord Frederick!"
said Musdoemon, and the torch which he
carried showed not the least change in his
features.
"Death! death!" repeated the count
furiously.
And the six men rushed on to the brigand,
who, surprised at the sudden attack, retreated
to the precipice, giving a wild roar, far more
of rage than fear.
HAN OF ICELAND 29
Six swords were against him, but his fierce
glance was more menacing than that of any
two of his assailants. Compelled to keep on
the defensive, he wielded his stone hatchet
with such rapidity that it formed a complete
buckler, against which the swords were
vain. Weakened by his late encounter
with the wolf, he was losing ground, and he
soon found himself. on the brink of the
abyss.
" Courage, my friends !" cried the count;
" let us dash the monster over the precipice."
" Before I fall, the planets will fall," replied
the brigand.
On seeing the little man take a step back¬
ward down the stone flight, his adversaries
followed with renewed ardor.
"Good, press forward!" urged the chan¬
cellor. "He must fall; one more effort.
Ah! wretch, you have committed your last
crime ! courage, my friends !"
The brigand still protected himself with the
hatchet in his right hand, while with the
other he raised the horn from his belt, and
blew several prolonged blasts. The answering
call at once came—a loud roar was soon heard
proceeding from the abyss.
Just as the count and his followers were
flattering themselves upon their success in
having made the little man take another step
30
HAN OF ICELAND
downward, the enormous head of a white bear
appeared behind him. The assailants drew
back in surprise and fear.
The bear mounted the steps and confronted
the foes with his open blood-stained mouth.
" Thanks, my brave Friend," exclaimed
the brigand.
And, profiting by his adversaries' discom¬
fiture he vaulted on to the bear's back. The
animal descended with his threatening face
turned towards his master's enemies.
Soon, recovered from their surprise they
could see the bear effecting his escape with
his burden; by grasping trunks of trees and
projecting rocks, they endeavored to raise a
block of granite, but before they could hurl
it, the brigand and his strange beast had
vanished into a cavern.
XXVI.
No, no, laugh no more. Look you, what
seems so pleasant also has its serious side, a very
serious one, and so in everything. Believe me,
this word chance is blasphemy; nothing under
the stm happens by chance; and so in this you
see the end providence has in view.
Lessing—Emilia Galotti.
Yes, most profound reasoning is often
shown in what men call chance. In these
events, what seems a mysterious hand shapes,
in a way, their course and object. One
may rail against the caprices of fortune, or
the strangeness of things, and suddenly out of
chaos there comes astounding light, or some
bright rays; and human knowledge bows
before the high lessons of destiny.
If, for example, when Frederick d'Ahlefeld,
in a sumptuous salon at Copenhagen, displayed,
before the eyes of the ladies, the magnificence
of his apparel, the foppishness of his rank and
the presumption of his speech, some man,
warned about future events, came and troubled
31
32
HAN OF ICELAND
the frivolity of his thoughts by grave prophe¬
sies J if he had told him that some day his
brilliant uniform, which was his pride, would
be the cause of his death; that a monster with
a human face would drink his blood as he,
careless voluptuary, drank the wines of France
and Bohemia; that his hair, for which he had
not enough essences and perfumes, would
sweep the dust in a cave of wild beasts j that
his arm, which he offered with so much grace
as support to the beautiful ladies of Charlot-
tenburg, would be thrown like a half-picked
roebuck bone, to a bear; how would Frederick
have replied to these dismal prophesies ? By
a burst of laughter and a jest; and, what
would have been more dreadful, all human
reasoning would have agreed with the mad¬
man.
Let us examine this destiny still further. Is
it not a strange mystery to see the crime of
the count and countess of d'Ahlefeld return
to them as a punishment ? They had hatched
a plot against the daughter of a captive; this
unfortunate girl had by chance a protector
who considered it necessary to send away their
son, entrusted by them to execute this abom¬
inable design. This son, their only hope, was
sent far from the scene of his seduction; and,
no sooner had he arrived at his new station
than another chance avenger killed him.
HAN OF ICELAND
33
Thus, hoping to lead a young innocent girl
whom they hated into dishonor, drove their
cherished yet guilty son into his tomb. It
was by their fault that these wretched beings
became miserable.
XXVII.
Ah! Here is our beautiful countess!—Pardon,
madame, if I am unable to-day to take advan¬
tage of your visit. I am very busy. Another
time, dear countess, another time ; but, to-day,
I will not keep you long.
Le Prince A Orsina.
The day after his visit to Munckholm the
Governor of Drontheim called early for his
traveling carriage, hoping to leave before the
Countess d'Ahlefeld was up, but, as we have
already said, the sleep of the countess was
broken.
The general had just signed the last instruc¬
tions for the bishop, who was to replace him
as governor in the interim. He arose, put
on his fur redingote, and was on the point of
starting, when the noble lady was announced.
This annoyance disconcerted the old soldier,
accustomed to laugh at the fire of a hundred
cannon, but who could not stand a woman's
artifices. He made his adieus, hoping to escape
further questioning. The wicked countess
leaned forward with an artful expression of
34
HAN OF ICELAND
35
countenance, meaning to impress him as purely
confidential.
" Well, noble general, what did he say to
you?"
" Who ?—Poel ? He said the carriage was
ready."
"I am speaking of the Munckholm pris¬
oner, general."
"Ah!"
" Did he reply in a satisfactory manner?"
"But—yes—really, my lady countess,"
said the general, whom we may be assured
was now embarrassed.
" Have you any proof of his complicity
with the miners ?"
An exclamation escaped from Levin.
" Noble lady, he is innocent I"
He suddenly stopped, for he had just
spoken according to his heart's dictates, and
not according to his judgment.
" He is innocent!" repeated the countess,
in consternation, though still incredulous. She
feared Schumacher had satisfied the general,
and his guilt proven was- all important to the
interest of the grand chancellor.
The governor had had time to reflect, and his
hesitating reply was reassuring to the countess.
" Innocent—yes—if you wish."
" If I wish, my lord general!"
And the wicked woman burst into laughter.
36
HAN OP ICELAND
This laughter wounded the governor.
" Noble countess," said he, "with all due
deference, I must tell you that the details of
my interview with the ex-grand chancellor are
for the viceroy's ears alone."
With -a profound bow he retired, and
descended into the court where his carriage
was waiting.
" Yes, go," repeated the countess to herself,
once within her own apartment, " you knight-
errant, the protector of om: enemies. May
your departure be the signal of my Frederick's
return. Fancy sending the handsomest cava¬
lier in Copenhagen to those horrible moun¬
tains ! Happily there will be no difficulty
now in having him recalled."
At this thought she addressed her favorite
attendant:
" My dear Lisbeth, order from Berghen a
couple of dozen small combs now worn by
beaux in the hair, and the famous Scud^ry's
newest novel. My dear Frederick's monkey
must have a rose-water bath every morning."
"What! my gracious mistress," asked
Lisbeth, "can my Lord Frederick then
return?"
" Yes, indeed. I must fulfil his wishes; he
will then be pleased to see me. Besides, I
want to surprise him."
Poor mother 1
XXVIII.
Bernard followed the banks of the Atlanta.
He seemed like a lion which had left its lair,
seeking the huntsmen and determined to con¬
quer or die.
So he has gone, this valiant and determined
Spaniard ?
With a rapid step, a great spear in hand, in
which he placed great hopes, Bernard explored
the ruins of Arlan^a.
Spanish Romance.
Ordener, wearied with seeking his poor
guide, Benignus Spiagudry, left the tower
whence he had perceived Munckholm beacon.
The ruins but echoed his calls. Surprised,
but in no way alarmed, at the man's disap¬
pearance, attributing it to fright he therefore
blamed himself for leaving him, and decided
to pass the night on the rocks of Oelmoe, to
give his guide the time to return. After some
slight refreshment, he wrapped his cloak
around him, and lay down near the few re¬
maining embers. Pressing Ethel's hair to his
lips, he soon fell asleep. Even amid great
anxiety sleep comes to a clear conscience.
37
HAN OP ICELAND
At sunrise Ordener resumed his search, but
he only found Spiagudry's cloak and wallet in
the tower, showing evidently marks of a hasty
retreat. Despairing to find him on the rock,
he left, in order to keep his appointment with
Han of Iceland at Walderhog on the morrow.
In the early chapters we have learned that
Ordener was accustomed to a wandering and
adventurous life, and as he was well acquainted
with Northern Norway, he wanted no guide to
the brigand's retreat. He went forth on his
solitary journey, with no Benignus Spiagudry
to give him information concerning the quartz
in the mountains, or the various traditions of
the country.
He traveled for a whole day across the
mountains, which running from north to
south of Norway down to the sea, give to the
coast a succession of promontories and gulfs.
Inland mountains and valleys follow one upon
another to such an extent that Norway is
compared to the backbone of a fish.
It was no easy thing to travel in that country.
Sometimes it was necessary to follow the
stony bed of a dried-up torrent, sometimes
to cross on a shaky bridge made of a trunk of
a tree when the roads themselves had been
chosen as beds by the raging torrents.
However, Ordener traveled for hours with¬
out seeing any evidences of the presence of
HAN OF ICELAND
39
man, beyond occasionally seeing the sails of a
wind-mill on the top of a hill, or hearing the
noise of a distant forge, from which the smoke
rose and hung in the air like a black canopy.
Here and there he met a peasant mounted
on a little gray horse, head down, and only a
little less savage than its master, or fur mer¬
chant seated in his sled drawn by two rein¬
deers, behind which was attached a long rope,
with many knots, which, bounding over the
stones of the road, was intended to frighten
the wolves.
When Ordener asked the merchant the road
to the cavern of Walderhog : " Keep to the
northeast you will find the village of Hervalyn,
cross the ravine of Dodlysax, and to-night
you may reach Surb, which is only two miles
from Walderhog." Thus carelessly replied
the roving merchant, knowing only the names
and positions of the places which his business
compelled him to explore.
If Ordener addressed the same question to
a peasant, he, steeped in the traditions and
fireside tales of the country, would shake his
head repeatedly and stop his gray nag saying:
" Walderhog ! the cavern of Walderhog!
There even stones sing and bones dance, and
the demon of Iceland lives there. Is it really
to the cavern of Walderhog that your courtesy
wishes to go?"
40
HAN OF ICELAND
"Yes, certainly," answered Ordener,
" Then your courtesy must have lost your
mother, or your farm has burnt down, or
your neighbor has stolen your fat pig?"
"No, really," replied the young man.
" Then your courtesy has been bewitched ?"
" My good man, I ask the way to Walder-
hog."
" I am giving you the answer, my lord.
Farewell, then. Keep to the north. I know
well enough how you can get there, but I am
very doubtful how you will return."
And the peasant drove away, making the
sign of the cross.
The dismal monotony and the difficulties of
the road were increased by a fine penetrating
rain which began about the middle of the day.
No birds dared to breast the wind, and Orde¬
ner, frozen in spite of his cloak, saw above
his head only a goshawk, gerfalcon or king¬
fisher, which, alarmed at the noise of his
approach, rose suddenly from the reeds of a
pond with a fish in its claws.
It was night, when the young traveler, after
having traversed the forest of aspen and beech
trees close to the ravine of Dodlysax, arrived at
the hamlet of Surb in which Spiagudry, as the
reader may remember, wished to make his
headquarters. From the smell of tar and
charcoal smoke Ordener knew that he was
HAN OF ICELAND
41
approaching a settlement of fishermen. He
advanced towards the first hut which he could
distinguish in the dusk. The low narrow
entrance was closed, according to the Nor¬
wegian custom, by a large transparent fish
skin, reddened by the light of a fire.
He knocked on the wood frame of the door,
crying:
"It is a traveler."
" Come in, come in," was the reply from
within.
At the same moment an officious hand
raised the fish skin, and Ordener entered the
conical habitations used by the fishermen of
the Norwegian coast. It was a sort of round
tent of wood and earth, in the middle of
which burned a fire in which the purple flame
of heat mingled with the white light of the
fir tree. Near the fire the fisherman, his wife
and two children, dressed in rags, were seated
before a table covered with wooden plates and
earthen vessels. On the opposite side, among
the nets and oars, were two reindeers sleep¬
ing on a bed of leaves and skins, a continua¬
tion of which seemed intended to receive the
hosts of the house and any guests Heaven
might be pleased to send them. One could
not all at once distinguish this interior
arrangement of the hut for heavy stinging
smoke, which with difficulty escaped through
42
HAN OF ICELAND
an opening in the top of the cone, wrapped
all objects in a thick moving cloud.
Ordener had hardly crossed the threshold,
when the fisherman and his wife rose and
saluted him with an air of kindness and
welcome. Norwegian peasants like travelers,
as much perhaps from the feeling of curiosity,
so strong in them, as from their natural love
of hospitality.
"My lord,"' said the fisherman, "you
must be hungry and cold, here is a fire to
dry your cloak and excellent rye bread to
appease your appetite. Your courtesy may
afterwards deign to tell us who you are,
whence you come, where you are going, and
what sort of tales the old women tell in your
country."
"Yes, my lord," added the woman, "and
you may add to this excellent rye bread, as
my lord and husband says, a piece of delicious
salt stock-fish, seasoned with whale-oil. Sit
down, my lord stranger."
" And if your courtesy does not like the
cheer of Saint Usulph,"* continued the man,
"if he will have patience for a minute, I
promise him he will eat a quarter of venison
or at the least a wing of a royal pheasant. We
will await the return of the finest hunter there
is in the three provinces. Is it not true, my
good Maase?"
HAN OF ICELAND
43
Maase, the name which the fisherman gave
to his wife, is a Norwegian word which means
sea-gull. The woman did not seem annoyed,
either because it was her real name or a nick¬
name of tenderness.
"The best hunter! I think so, certainly,"
she responded with emphasis. " He is my
brother, the famous Kennybol! May God
favor his chase! He has come to spend
several days with us, and you may be able, my
lord stranger, to drink with him several
draughts of good beer from the same cup.
He is a traveler like you.''
"Many thanks, my kind hostess," said
Ordener smiling; "but I will be forced
to content myself with your appetizing
stock-fish and a piece of rye bread. I will
not have the leisure to await your brother,
the famous hunter. I must depart imme¬
diately."
The good Maase, at the same time annoyed
at the prompt departure of the stranger, and
flattered by the praises of her stock-fish and
her brother, cried:
"You are very good, my lord. But why
are you going to leave us so soon ?"
"I must."
" You are going to venture in the moun¬
tains at this hour and in such weather?"
"It is on important business."
44
HAN OF ICELAND
These replies of the young man aroused the
native curiosity of his hosts as much as it
excited their astonishment.
The fisherman rose and said;
"You are in the house of Christopher Buldus
Braall, fisherman, of the hamlet of Surb."
The woman added:
" Maase Kennybol is his wife and servant."
When Norwegian peasants wish to politely
ask a stranger his name, their custom is to tell
him theirs.
Ordener answered:
" And I, I am a traveler who is neither sure
of the name he bears, nor the road which he
follows."
This singular response seemed not to satisfy
fisherman Braall.
" By the crown of Gorman the Old,'' said he,
" I thought that in Norway there was only one
man who was not sure of his name. That man
is the noble Baron of Thorwick, who will soon
be called, they tell me, Count of Danneskiold,
on account of his glorious marriage with the
daughter of the chancellor. That at least, my
good Maase, is the latest news which I have
heard from Drontheim. I congratulate you,
my lord stranger, on this similarity to the son
of the viceroy, the great Count Guldenlew."
" Since your courtesy," added the woman,
whose face was flushed with curiosity, "seems
HAN OF ICELAND
45
unable to tell us anything about himself, per¬
haps he can give us some news of what is
going on just nowj for instance, about this
famous marriage of which my lord and hus¬
band has just received news?"
"Yes," continued the other with an im¬
portant air, " is there anything later ? Before
a month, the son of the viceroy will marry
the daughter of the grand chancellor."
" I doubt it," said Ordener.
"You doubt it, my lord! I myself can
assure you that the thing is certain. I have it
from a good source. He who told me had it
from my Lord Poel, the favorite valet of the
noble Baron of Thorwick, that is to say the
noble Count of Danneskiold. Has any storm
troubled the waters within a week? Will this
great union be broken ?"
"I believe so," answered the young man
smiling.
" If it is so, my lord, I was wrong. No
need to light the fire to fry the fish before
the net has caught it. But is this rupture
certain? From whom did you learn the
news ?''
"From no one," said Ordener, "I myself
arranged all that in my head."
At these naive words the fisherman could
not forbear violating Norwegian courtesy by a
long burst of laughter.
46
HAN OF ICELAND
" A thousand pardons, my lord. But it is
easily seen that you are indeed a traveler, and
without doubt a stranger. Do you really
believe that events follow your caprices, and
that the weather will cloud over or clear
according to your wish?"
Here, the fisherman, learned in national
affairs, like all Norwegian peasants, began to
explain to Ordener reasons why this marriage
must occur, it was necessary for the interests
of the d'Ahlefeld family} the viceroy could
not refuse the king, who desired it, and
besides it was said that genuine passion
united the future bride and groom. In short,
fisherman Braall no more doubted that this
alliance would take place than that he, next
day, would kill the cursed sea-dog which
infested the pond of Master-Bick.
Ordener felt little disposed to maintain a
political conversation with such a rude states¬
man, when the arrival of a new personage
allowed him to escape the annoyance.
"'Tis he, it is my brother!" cried old
Maase. And it needed nothing less than the
arrival of a brother to disturb the contempla¬
tive admiration with which she listened to the
lengthy discourse of her husband. The latter,
whilst the children threw themselves noisily on
their uncle's neck, gravely held out his hand.
" Make yourself welcome, my brother."
HAN OF ICELAND
47
Then, turning towards Ordener;
" My lord, this is our brother, the renowned
hunter Kennybol, of the KoleMountains."
"I salute you heartily," said the moun¬
taineer, doffing his bearskin cap. " Brother,
I have as bad hunting on your shores, as
you no doubt would have bad fishing in our
mountains. I believe I would sooner fill my
shooting-pouch hunting elfs and goblins in
the hazy mountains of Queen Mab. Sister
Maase, you are the first sea-gull to which I
have been able to say good-day up to now.
Hold, friends, may God keep you in peace !
It was for this miserable woodcock that the
best hunter in the Drontheimhus has scoured
the glades all this time and in this weather."
Thus speaking, he drew a white wood-hen
from his game bag and threw it on the table,
vowing that this thin beast was not worthy of
a musket-shot. "But," added he under his
breath, " faithful musket of Kennybol, you will
soon hunt bigger game. If you no longer have
chamois or antelope to slaughter, you will have
green jackets and red (justaucorps) to pierce."
These half-heard words excited Maase's
curiosity.
" Eh !" asked she, " what did you say then,
my good brother?"
" I said there was always a goblin dancing
on women's tongues."
48
HAN OF ICELAND
"You are right, brother Kennybol," cried
the fisherman. " These daughters of Eve are
all as curious as their mothers. Did you not
speak of green jackets ?"
"Brother Braall," replied the hunter in a
tone of ill-humor, " I only confide my secrets
to my musket, because I am sure it will not
repeat them."
" They talk in the village of a revolt of the
miners," intrepidly continued the fisherman.
" Brother, do you know anything about it?"
The mountaineer put on his cap and draw¬
ing it down over his eyes threw a sidelong
glance at the stranger; then he bent towards
the fisherman, and said in a curt deep voice:
"Silence!"
The other shook his head several times.
" Brother Kennybol, the fish is silent in
vain, for he none the less falls into the bow-
net."
Then there was a moment of silence. The
brothers watched each other with an expres¬
sive air; the children plucked the feathers
from the wood-hen on the table; the good
wife heard that no one was speaking; and
Ordenerlooked on.
"If you have poor cheer to-day," said the
hunter suddenly, openly seeking to change
the conversation, " it will not be so bad to¬
morrow. Brother Braall, you may fish for the
HAN OF ICELAND
49
king of fishes, I promise you bear's grease to
season it."
"Bear's grease!" cried Maase. "Have
you seen a bear hereabouts ? Patrick, Reg-
ner, my children, I forbid you to go out of
the cabin. A bear!"
" Calm yourself, sister, you need have no
fear of it to-morrow. Yes, it was indeed a
bear that I saw about two miles from Surb; a
white bear. It seemed to be carrying a man,
or an animal rather. But no, it could not
have been a goatherd that he was carrying
off, for goatherds clothe themselves in animal
skins. However, distance did not permit me
to distinguish. What astonished me was that
he carried his prey on his back and not
between his teeth."
"Truly, brother?"
" Yes, and the animal must have been dead
for it made no movement to defend itself."
"But," shrewdly asked the fisherman, "if
it was dead, how did it keep itself on the
bear's back?"
" That is just what I have not been able to
understand. However, it will have made the
bear's last meal. Passing through the village
I just notified six good companions; and to¬
morrow, sister Maase, I will bring to you the
finest white fur I have ever seen roam on the
snows of a mountain."
5°
HAN OF ICELAND
"Take care, brother," said the woman,
"you have indeed seen a remarkable thing.
This bear is perhaps the devil."
"Are you crazy?" laughingly interrupted
the mountaineer j "the devil change himself
into a bear ! Into a cat or a monkey, well
enough, that has been seen, but into a bear!
Ah ! By Saint Eldon the Exerciser, you would
move the pity of a child or an old woman
with your superstitions !''
The poor woman hung her head.
"Brother, you were my lord before my
revered husband cast eyes on me, act as your
guardian angel inspires you to act."
"But," the fisherman asked the moun¬
taineer, "in what direction did you meet this
bear?"
" On the road from Smiasen to Walderhog."
"Walderhog!" said the woman, making
the sign of the cross.
" Walderhog !" repeated Ordener.
"But, my brother," continued the fisher¬
man, "it is not thou, I hope, who went
towards this grotto of Walderhog?"
" Me ! God forbid ! It was the bear."
" Will you go to seek it there to-morrow?"
interrupted Maase in terror.
"No, indeed; do you believe, my friends,
that even a bear would choose as a retreat a
cavern where . . . ?"
JflAN OF iCELANt)
51
He stopped, and all three made the sign of
the cross.
"You are right," answered the fisherman,
" there is an instinct which keeps beasts from
such things as that."
"My good hosts," said Ordener, "what
is there so frightful about this grotto of
Walderhog?"
They all three regarded him with stupid
astonishment, as though they could not under¬
stand such a question.
" Is it there that the tomb of King Walder
is?" added the young man.
"Yes," answered the woman, "a tomb of
stone that sings."
" There is no doubt about it," said the
fisherman.
"No," continued she, "and at night
one can hear the bones of trespassers danc¬
ing."
All were silent, as though they did not
dare to go on.
"Well," asked Ordener, "is there any¬
thing else supernatural ?''
"Young man," said the mountaineer,
gravely, " there is no need to speak so lightly
when you see such an old gray wolf as I
shudder."
The young man answered with a gentle
smile:
52
HAN OF ICELAND
" I would like very much to know all the
marvelous things which happen in this grotto
of Walderhog; I am just on my way there."
These words petrified his three hearers with
terror.
" To Walderhog! Heavens! You are going
to Walderhog?"
" He said it," answered the fisherman, " as
one s&ys: I am going to Loevig to sell my
cod-fish! or to Ralph's clearing to fish for
herring! To Walderhog, great God !"
" Unhappy young man !" cried the woman,
" you must have been born without a guard¬
ian angel. Is no saint in heaven your
patron ? Alas! It is too true since you do
not even know your own name."
" And what object," interrupted the moun¬
taineer, " can it be that leads your courtesy
to this frightful place?"
" I have something to ask of some one,"
answered Ordener.
The astonishment of the three hosts re¬
doubled with their curiosity.
" Listen, my lord stranger; you appear not
to know this country very well; your courtesy
is no doubt mistaken, it cannot be that you
wish to go to Walderhog. Besides," added
the mountaineer, "if he wishes to speak to
some human being, he will not find any
one."
HAN OF ICELAND
53
" Except the demon," continued the
woman.
" The demon ! What demon ?"
"Yes," continued she, "he for whom the
tomb sings and the departed dance."
"Then you do not know, my lord," said
the fisherman, lowering his voice and approach¬
ing Ordener, "you do not know that the
grotto of Walderhog is usually the abode
of . . ."
The woman stopped him.
" My lord and husband, do not pronounce
that name, it brings ill-luck."
" The abode of who ?" asked Ordener.
"Of a Beelzebub incarnate," said Kenny-
bol.
" Truly, my kind hosts, I do not know what
you mean. I was told that Walderhog was
inhabited by Han of Iceland."
A triple cry of horror rose in the cottage.
" Well! You knew it! He is the
demon!"
The woman bowed her drugget head-dress,
vowing by all the saints that it was not she
who had pronounced the name.
When the fisherman had recovered a little
from his stupefaction, he stared fixedly at
Ordener, as though there was something about
the young man which he could not under¬
stand.
54
HAN OF ICELAND
" I believe, my lord traveler, that I would
have to live longer than my father, who died
at the age of a hundred and twenty, before I
would ever see a human being, endowed with
reason and God-fearing, who would show you
the road to Walderhog."
" No doubt," cried Maase j " but his cour¬
tesy will not go to this cursed grotto; for, in
order to enter, a pact must be made with the
devil!"
" I will go, my good hosts, and the greatest
service you can render me will be to show me
the shortest road."
"The shortest road to go where you wish
to go," said the fisherman, "is to throw
yourself from the top of a rock into the nearest
torrent."
" Does it answer the same purpose," asked
Ordener in a calm voice, " to choose a useless
death rather than a useful danger ?''
Braall shook his head whilst his brother fixed
on the young adventurer a searching look.
"I understand," cried the fisherman sud¬
denly, " you wish to earn the thousand royal
6cus which the high syndic have promised
for the head of this demon of Iceland."
Ordener smiled.
" Young sir," continued the fisherman with
emotion, "be advised by me, renounce this pro¬
ject. I am poor and old, but I would not give
HAN OF ICELAND
55
up what remains of my life for your thousand
royal ecus, even if I were only to live a day."
The beseeching and compassionate eyes of
the woman watched the effect which the
prayer of her husband produced on the young
man. Ordener hastened to respond :
" A greater interest makes me seek this
brigand whom you call a demon; it is for
others than myself . . ."
The mountaineer, who had not taken his
gaze from Ordener, interrupted him.
"I understand you now, I know why you
seek this Iceland demon."
"I wish to force him to fight," said the
young man.
"That is it," said Kennybol, "you are
entrusted with great matters, are you not?"
" I have just told you."
The mountaineer approached the young
man with a look of intelligence, and it was
not without extreme astonishment that Orde¬
ner heard him whisper in his ear :
" It is for Count Schumacher of Griffenfeld,
is it not?"
"My brave fellow," cried he, "how did
you know?"
Indeed, it was difficult for him to imagine
how a Norwegian mountaineer could come to
know a secret which he had confided to no
one, not even to General Levin.
56 HAN OF ICELAND
Kennybol leaned towards him.
"I wish you good success," he continued
in the same mysterious tone: "you are a
noble young man to thus serve the oppressed."
Ordener's surprise was so great that he was
hardly able to find words to ask the moun¬
taineer how he knew the object of his
journey.
" Silence," said Kennybol, placing his
finger to his mouth, " I hope you will obtain
what you desire from the inhabitant of Wal-
derhog; my arm is devoted, like yours, to the
prisoner of Munckholm."
Then raising his voice, before Ordener was
able to reply, he said:
"Brother, and good sister Maase," con¬
tinued he, " receive this respectable young man
as a brother. Come, I think supper is ready."
"What!" interrupted Maase, "you have
really persuaded his courtesy to renounce his
intentions of visiting the demon?"
" Sister, pray that no harm comes to him.
He is a noble and worthy young man. Come,
brave sir, take some food and sleep with us.
To-morrow I will show you your road, and we
will go to hunt together, you for your devil,
and I for my bear."
XXIX.
Countryman, eh! to what countryman were
you bom ? What child of man art thou to dare
to thus come to attack Fafnir 7
Edda.
The first rays of the rising sun had hardly
reddened the highest peak of the rock border¬
ing the sea, when a fisherman, who had come
before dawn to cast his nets within musket
shot of the shore, opposite the entrance to the
grotto of Walderhog, saw something like
a figure wrapped in a cloak or a shroud,
descend the rocks and disappear under the
formidable vault of the cavern. Struck with
terror, he commended his boat and his soul
to Saint Usulph, and hastened to relate to his
terror-stricken family how he had seen one of
•the spectres, which lived in the palace of
Han of Iceland, re-enter the grotto at day¬
break.
This spectre, the terror and topic of conver¬
sation of future long winter evenings, was
Ordener, the noble son of the viceroy of
Norway, who whilst the two kingdoms
57
58
HAN OF ICELAND
thought given up to secret attendance near
his haughty betrothed, had come, alone and
unknown, to risk his life for her to whom he
had given his heart and future; for the
daughter of an exile.
Dismal forebodings, sinister predictions,
had followed him on his journey; he had just
left the fisherman's family, where good
Maase, after saying farewell had knelt in
prayer before the threshold of her door. The
mountaineer Kennybol and his six com¬
panions, who had showed him the road, had
separated from him half a mile from Walder-
hog, and even these fearless hunters, who
went laughingly to face a bear, had stood
aghast for a long while watching the path
which the adventurous traveler followed.
The young man entered the grotto of Wal-
derhog as one enters a long-desired goal. He
felt a heavenly joy in thinking that he was
going to accomplish the object of his life, and
that in a few minutes he would perhaps have
given his blood for Ethel's sake. Ready to
attack a brigand feared throughout an entire
province, a monster, a demon perhaps, it was
not this frightful figure which appeared to his
imagination; he only saw the image of a
sweet virgin captive, no doubt praying for
him before the altar in her prison. If he
thought of anything but her, it was but to
HAN OF ICELAND
59
scorn the perils which he had come so far to
seek; but could any other thought find a
place in a young heart which at that moment
beat with the double exaltation of a great
devotion and a noble love ?
He advanced, head erect, under the
resounding vault, whose thousand echoes
multiplied the noise of his footsteps, without
even looking at the stalactites, or at the circu¬
lar basaltis which hung above his head,
amongst moss, ivy and lichens, a confused
mass of odd forms, which the superstitions of
the Norwegian countrymen had more than
once taken for crowds of demons or proces¬
sions of phantoms.
With the same indifference he passed the
tomb of King Walder, to which so many
dismal traditions were attached, and he heard
no other voice than the whistling of the breeze
through the funereal galleries.
He continued his walk through the winding
arcades, feebly lighted by clefts half closed
with weeds and shrubs. His feet often struck
against some remains, which rolled over the
rock with a hollow sound, and presented, in the
shadow, to his eyes the appearance of broken
skulls, or jaws with long rows of white teeth.
But he felt no terror. He was only
astonished at not meeting the formidable
inhabitant of this horrible grotto.
6o
HAN OF ICELAND
He arrived in a sort of round hall, naturally
formed in the flank of the rock. There the
path which he had followed ended. The walls
of the room had no other openings except
large cracks through which one could see the
forests and mountains beyond.
Surprised at having explored the whole of
the fatal cavern unmolested, he began to de¬
spair of meeting the brigand. A monument
of singular shape, placed in the middle of the
underground room, attracted his attention.
Three long massive stones, placed upright on
the ground supported a fourth, large and
square, like three pillars with a roof. Under
this kind of gigantic tripod was a sort of altar,
likewise formed of a single piece of granite,
pierced with a circular hole in the middle of
its upper face. Ordener recognized one of
those colossal Druidical structures which he
had often noticed in his travels in Norway,
the most astonishing examples of which, in
France, are perhaps those of Cokmariaker
and of Carnac. Strange buildings which
one may see, placed on the earth like tents
set up for a day, whose weight alone gives
them solidity.
The young man, given up to his reveries,
sat down mechanically on this altar, which
was browned as though it had drank deeply
of the blood of human victims.
HAN OF ICELAND
6l
Suddenly he was startled by a voice, which
seemed to come out of the stone.
" Young man, your feet touched your tomb
when you came here."
He arose suddenly, and grasped his sabre,
whilst an echo, feeble as the voice of the
dead, distinctly repeated in the depths of the
grotto:
" Young man, your feet touched your tomb
when you came here."
At this moment a horrid head, with red
hair, rose at the other side of the altar,
laughing atrociously.
"Young man," it repeated, "yes, when
you came here your feet touched your tomb."
And the young man answered coolly by
placing his hand on his sword.
The monster came from behind the Druidi-
cal altar and showed his thick-set sinewy
limbs, his savage and bloody clothes, his
hooked hands and his heavy stone hatchet.
" It is I," said he with a growl like a wild
beast.
" It is I," answered Ordener.
" I await thee."
" I do more," fearlessly replied the young
man, " I seek thee."
The brigand crossed his arms.
" Dost thou know who I am ?"
"Yes."
*
62
HAN OF ICELAND
" And thou hast no fear ?"
" I have no longer."
"Then thou hadst fear in coming here?"
And the monster tossed his head trium¬
phantly.
" That of not meeting thee."
"Thou darest me, and yet thou hast just
stumbled over human corpses!"
" To-morrow, perhaps they will jostle
against thine."
A fit of anger seized the little man.
Ordener, unmoved, retained his calm bold
attitude.
" Take care!" murmured the brigand ; " I
will fall upon thee, as the Norway hail upon
a parasol."
"I would ask no other shield against thee."
One might say that there was something in
Ordener's look which cowed the monster.
He began to pluck the nap of his cloak, as a
tiger claws the sod before springing on its
prey.
"Thou wilt learn from me what pity is,"
said he.
" And from me, what scorn is."
" Boy, thy voice is gentle, thy face is
smooth, like the voice and face of a young
girl; what death dost thou wish from me?"
" Thine."
The little man laughed.
HAN OF ICELAND
63
" Thou dost not know that I am a demon,
that my spirit is the spirit of Ingulphus the
Exterminator.''
" I know that thou art a brigand, and that
thou dost murder for gold."
" Thou art mistaken," interrupted the
monster, " it is for blood."
" Hast thou not been paid by the d'Ahle-
felds for assassinating Captain Dispolsen?"
"What sayest thou? What are these
names?"
" Thou dost not know Captain Dispolsen,
whom thou hast assassinated on the Sands of
Urchtal?"
" That may be, but I have forgotten it, as I
will have forgotten thee in three days."
" Thou dost not know Count d'Ahlefeld,
who has paid thee to take an iron casket from
the captain ?"
" D'Ahlefeld! Wait; yes, I know the
name Yesterday I drank the blood of his
son from the skull of my own."
Ordener shuddered with horror.
" Wert thou not content with thy wage?"
" What wage?" asked the brigand.
" Listen; thou mistakest; I must finish.
Didst thou, eight days ago, steal an iron casket
from one of thy victims, an officer from
Munckholm ?"
This word startled the brigand.
64
HAN OF ICELAND
"An officer from Munckholm !" he hissed
between his teeth.
Then he continued, with a movement of
surprise :
"Art thou also an officer from Munck¬
holm?"
"No," said Ordener.
" So much the worse."
And the brigand's features darkened.
" Listen," said Ordener, obstinately,
"where is this casket thou stolest from the
captain ?''
The little man seemed to think for a
moment.
"By Ingulphus! How this iron box fills
their heads. I warn thee that they will seek
less for that which holds thy bones, if even
they are placed in a coffin."
These words, showing Ordener that the
brigand knew the casket about which he spoke,
gave him new hopes of recovering it.
"Tell me what thou hast done with the
casket. Is it in possession of Count d'Ahle-
feld?"
"No."
" Thou liest, for thou laughest."
" Believe what thou wouldst. What is it to
me?"
The monster had indeed assumed an air of
raillery which provoked Ordener's defiance.
HAN OF ICELAND
65
He saw that there was nothing to be done
except to put him into a fury, or to intimidate
him, if possible.
" Understand me," said he, raising his
voice, " thou must give me the casket."
The other answered by a savage laugh.
"Thou must give it to me 1" repeated the
young man in a thundering voice.
" Art thou accustomed to give orders to
buffaloes and to bears?" replied the monster
with the same laugh.
" I will give them to satan in hell."
" Thou wilt do that very thing by and by."
Ordener drew his sabre, which flashed in
the shadow like lightning.
" Obey!"
" Come on !" replied the other shaking his
hatchet, "I was ready to break your bones
and suck thy blood when thou camest, but I
restrained myself, for I was curious to see how
the sparrow would spring upon the vulture."
"Wretch," cried Ordener, "defend thy¬
self!"
" It is the first time that any one said that
to me," muttered the brigand, grinding his
teeth.
Speaking thus, he leaped on to the granite
altar and gathered himself together, like a
leopard on top of a rock waiting to spring
unexpectedly on the hunter.
66
HAN OP ICELAND
Keeping his eyes fixed on the young man
he seemed to be seeking the best means of
springing upon him. Ordener's fate would
have been sealed if he had wavered an instant.
But he did not give the brigand time to con¬
sider, but threw himself upon him, driving
the point of his sabre into his face.
Then commenced the most frightful battle
imaginable. The little man, standing on the
altar like a statue on its pedestal, seemed like
one of the horrible idols, which, in the
barbarian ages, received impious sacrifices and
sacrilegious offerings.
The monster's movements were so rapid
that, from whichever side Ordener attacked
him, he found him facing him and swinging
his hatchet. He would have been cut to pieces
by the blows had he not fortunately wrapped
his cloak about his left arm, in such a way that
most of his enemies' blows were lost on this
flowing shield. For several minutes they
made useless efforts to wound each other.
The little man's flashing eyes started from
their sockets. Surprised at the vigorous and
audacious fight made by such a feeble looking
adversary a sullen rage replaced his savage
leers. The atrocious immobility of the
savage's features and the calmness of Ordener's
contrasted strongly with the rapidity of their
movements and briskness of their attacks.
HAN OF ICELAND
67
Nothing was heard but the clash of arms,
the hurried steps of the young man, and the
quick breathing of the combatants, when
suddenly the little man gave a terrible roar.
The head of his axe had just become entangled
in the folds of the cloak. He shook his arm
violently, but it only served to entangle the
axe the more.
The formidable brigand felt the young man's
sword against his breast.
"Listen to me once more," said Ordener
triumphantly; " wilt thou give me back the
iron coffer thee so cowardly stole ?''
The little man was silent for a moment,
then reddening, he said :
" No, curse thee !"
Ordener, without quitting his victorious
and menacing attitude :
" Reflect!"
" No, I told thee no," repeated the brigand.
The noble young man lowered his sabre.
" Well," said he, " disengage thy hatchet
from the folds of my cloak so that we can con¬
tinue."
A disdainful laugh was the monster's only
response.
" Boy, thou art generous, as though I had
need of it!"
Before the surprised Ordener was able to
turn his head, he had placed his foot on the
68
HAN OF ICELAND
shoulders of his loyal vanquisher, and with a
bound he was a dozen steps away. With
another bound he was upon Ordener. He
hung upon him like a panther digging his
claws into the flank of a lion. His nails dug
into the young man's shoulder; his naked knees
pressed against his hips, whilst his frightful
face presented to Ordener's eyes the bloody
mouth and savage teeth ready to tear him.
He no longer spoke; no human words escaped
his panting gullet; only a deep growling,
mingled with hoarse, fierce cries, expressed
his rage. It was something more hideous than
a ferocious beast, more monstrous than a
demon; it was a man of whom no human
traits remained.
Ordener had wavered under the assaults of
the little man, and would have fallen under
the unexpected blow, if one of the large
pillars of the Druidical monument had not
been behind to support him. He remained
half fallen on his back, and out of breath
under the weight of his formidable enemy.
When one remembers that what we have just
described took place in less time than we have
taken to describe this it will be understood
how horrible the attack was.
As we have said, the noble young man had
staggered, but he did not tremble. He
hastened to give a last thought to his Ethel.
HAN OF ICELAND
69
This thought of love was like a prayer; it
gave him new strength. He encircled the
monster with both arms; then, seizing the
blade of his sabre in the middle, drove
the point in his spine. The brigand made a
frightful outroar, and with a leap, which shook
Ordener, he escaped from the arms of his
fearless adversary and fell away some paces,
carrying in his teeth a scrap of the green
mantle which he had bitten in his fury.
He rose, supple and agile as a young
chamois, and the combat recommenced for
the third time in a manner more terrible than
ever. Chance had placed the monster near a
mass of stones, between which moss and
brambles had grown for centuries. Two men
of ordinary strength would hardly have been
able to lift one of these masses. The brigand
seized one of them in both hands and
balanced it above his head. At this moment
his appearance was frightful. The stone,
hurled with violence traveled slowly through
the air, and the young man had only time to
step aside and escape. The granite block
broke upon the walls of the cave with a
frightful noise which echoed through the
depths of the grotto.
Ordener had hardly time to recover his
presence of mind, when a second mass was
balanced in the brigand's hands. Irritated at
^o
HAN OF ICELAND
being so cowardly stoned, he sprang towards
the little man, sabre in hand, hoping to
change the fight; but the formidable block,
flying through the air, struck the frail naked
blade, which fell in pieces like broken glass;
and the monster's wild laugh filled the cavern.
Ordener was disarmed.
" Hast thou anything to say to God or the
devil before dying?" cried the monster.
His eyes flamed, and all his muscles were
swollen with rage and joy; sprang for his
hatchet which was lying on the ground in the
folds of the mantle—poor Ethel!
Suddenly a distant uproar was heard from
without. The monster stopped. The noise
redoubled; the shouts of men mingled with
the plaintive moans of a bear. The brigand
listened. The doleful cries continued. He
quickly seized his hatchet and sprang, not
towards Ordener, but towards one of the clefts
of which we have already spoken as giving
light. Ordener, struck with surprise at being
thus forgotten, sprang to one of these natural
doors, and saw, in a neighboring meadow, a
great bear held at bay by seven hunters,
amongst whom he could distinguish Kennybol.
He turned. The brigand was no longer in
the grotto, but he heard from without a fright¬
ful voice crying:
"Friend! Friend! I am coming I Look!"
XXX.
Pierre, the good fellow, had lost all by the
dice.
Rtgnier.
The Munckholm regiment of musketeers
was marching through the defiles between
Drontheim and Skongen. Sometimes when
crossing a torrent, the long line of bayonets
could be seen like a serpent with its scales
glittering in the sun ; at other times it formed
a spiral twist about a mountain like triumphal
columns about which wind battalions in bronze.
The soldiers marched along showing feelings
of ill-humor and discontent, for these fine
fellows like nothing but fighting or ease.
The coarse jokes and old sarcasms which
delighted them the day before amused them no
more; besides, the air was cold and the sky was
cloudy. In order to raise a laugh in the ranks,
a cantini^re had to awkwardly fall from her
horse, or a tin saucepan had to go bounding
from rock to rock to the bottom of a precipice.
In order to dispel for little the weariness of
the march Lieutenant Randmer, a young
71
72
HAN OF ICELAND
Danish baron, hailed old Captain Lory, a
soldier of fortune. The captain marched
along, sombre and silent, with a heavy but
sure step; the lieutenant, gay and careless,
swung a switch which he had cut &om the
brushwood along the road-side.
" Well, captain, what is the matter ? You
are sad."
" I certainly have cause to be so," answered
the old officer without raising his head.
"Come, come, no grief; look at me, am I
sad ? and I warrant I have at least as much
cause to be as you."
" I doubt it. Baron Randmer; I have lost
my only comfort, I have lost all my fortune."
" Captain Lory, our misfortune is precisely
the same. Not two weeks ago Lieutenant
Alberick won from me, by a throw of the dice,
my fine castle of Randmer and its dependen¬
cies. I am ruined ; but do you see me any
the less gay on that account?"
The captain answered in a voice full of
sorrow:
" Lieutenant, you have only lost your fine
castle; but I,—I have lost my dog."
At this answer the young man's frivolous
features were undecided between laughter and
compassion.
" Captain," said he, " console yourself;
why, I, who have lost my castle ..."
HAN OF ICELAND
73
The other interrupted him.
" What of that ? Besides, you will win
another castle."
" And you will find another dog."
The old man shook his head.
" Find another dog; I will never recover
my poor Drake."
He stopped; large tears gathered in his
eyes and fell one by one upon his hard and
weather-beaten face.
"I have never," continued he, "loved
any one but him; I have never known father
nor mother. May God give thee peace, as well
as to poor Drake !—Lieutenant Randmer,
he saved my life in the Pomeranian war; I
called him Drake in honor of the famous
admiral.—He was a fine dog! He never
changed towards me with my changes of
fortune. After the battle of Oholfen, great
General Schack patted him with his hand,
saying to me: ' You have there a very fine
dog, Sergeant Lory 1' For then I was still
only a sergeant."
" Ah I" interrupted the young baron,swing-
ing his switch, " It must seem queer to be a
sergeant."
The old soldier of fortune did not hear;
he seemed to be talking to himself, and
only some inarticulate words escaped his
lips.
74
HAN OF ICELAND
"Poor Drake ! To escape safe and sound
so often from breaches and trenches, only to
be drowned like a cat in the cursed Gulf of
Drontheim ! My poor dog ! My brave friend !
You were worthy of dying, like me, on the
field of battle."
" Brave captain," cried the lieutenant,
" how can you remain so sad ? We will fight
perhaps to-morrow."
"Yes," answered the old captain disdain¬
fully, " against rare enemies!"
" What, these brigands the miners! These
devils the mountaineers!"
" Stone-cutters, highway robbers ! Gentle¬
men who in battle do not even know how to
form the pig's head or Gustavus Adolphus'
corner! Nice rabble to face such as I, who
went through all the wars of Pomerania and
of Holstein ! The campaigns of Scania and
of Dalecarlie ! I, who fought under glorious
General Schack, and under valiant Count
Guldenlew!"
"But, don't you know," interrupted
Eandmer, " these brigands have a cele¬
brated chief, a giant as strong and savage
as Goliath, a brigand who drinks nothing
but human blood, a demon in every way
Satanic.''
"Who?" a-sked the other.
" Why ! The famous Han of Iceland !"
HAN OF ICELAND
75
" Phew ! I wager this formidable general
does not even know how to load a musket in
four movements or to load a carbine !"
Randmer burst into laughter.
" Yes, laugh away," continued the captain.
" It will be very fine indeed to cross good
sabres with vile picks and noble pikes with
pitch-forks ! Worthy enemies ! My poor
Drake would not have condescended to take
one of them by the leg 1"
The captain continued to give free rein to
his indignation, until he was interrupted by
the arrival of an officer who ran towards them
quite out of breath.
" Captain Lory ! My dear Randmer!"
"Well?" said they together.
" Friends, I am frozen with horror 1—
d'Ahlefeld ! Lieutenant d'Ahlefeld! The
son of the grand chancellor ! You know, my
dear Baron Randmer, Frederick—^so elegant—
so foppish ! . . ."
"Yes," answered the young baron, "very
elegant! Nevertheless, at the last ball at
Charlottenburg, my disguise was in much
better taste than his.—But what has happened
to him?"
" I know of whom you speak," said Lory at
the same time, "Frederick d'Ahlefeld, the lieu¬
tenant of the third company, who wears blue
facings. He is careless enough about his duty.''
76
HAN OF ICELAND
" They will never complain about him
again, Captain Lory." .
"Why?" said Randmer.
"He is in garrison at Walhstrom," con¬
tinued the old captain coldly.
" Precisely," added the other, " the colonel
has just received a message.—Poor Frederick!''
"But what of him? Captain Hollar, you
frighten me."
Old Lory continued:
" Phew! Our fop has missed a roll call,
as usual; the captain has sent the son of the
grand chancellor to prison; that, I am sure,
is all the misfortune that has happened to so
disturb you."
Hollar placed his hand on Lory's shoulder.
" Captain Lory, Lieutenant d'Ahlefeld has
been devoured alive.''
The two captains looked fixedly at each
other, and Randmer, astonished for a moment,
suddenly began to laugh boisterously.
" Ah ! Ah! Captain Hollar, I see that you
keep up your practical jokes. Hut I warn you
I will not be fooled."
And the lieutenant, crossing his arms, gave
free play to his gayety, swearing that what
amused him most was the credulity with which
Lory accepted the amusing inventions of
Hollar. The tale, said he, was really droll,
it was quite a bright idea to have Frederick,
HAN OF ICELAND
77
who gave so much tender and ridiculous care
to his skin, devoured alive.
"Randmer," said Bollar gravely, " you are
a fool. I tell you d'Ahlefeld is dead. I have
it from the colonel—dead !"
" Oh ! How well he plays his role !" replied
the baron, still laughing, "how amusing he is!"
Bollar shrugged his shoulders, and turned
towards old Lory, who coolly asked for
details.
"Yes, truly, my dear Captain Bollar,"
added the indefatigable mocker, " tell us how
the poor devil was eaten. Did he form a
breakfast for a wolf or a supper for a bear ?"
"The colonel," said Bollar, "had just
received a dispatch, which instructed the
garrison of Walhstrom to fall back towards
us, before a considerable party of the insur¬
gents."
Old Lory knitted his brows.
"It was then," continued Bollar, "that
Lieutenant Frederick d'Ahlefeld, having been
hunting for the last three days, in the moun¬
tains near the ruin of Arbar, met there a
monster, who carried him into his cavern and
there devoured him."
Here Lieutenant Randmer redoubled his
joyous exclamations.
" Oh ! Oh! How easily good Lory believes
fairy tales! It is fine, keep serious, my dear
78
HAN OF ICELAND
Bollar. You are admirably droll. But you
do not tell us what this monster, this ogre,
this vampire is, that has carried and eaten
a lieutenant as though he were a young
kid!"
"I won't tell you," murmured Bollar
impatiently; " but I will tell Lory, who is
not so idiotically incredulous.—My dear
Lory, the monster who has drunk Frederick's
blood is Han of Iceland."
" The colonel of the brigands !" cried the
old officer.
"Well, my brave Lory," said the railler
Randmer, " has one any need of the manual
of arms when one chews so well?"
"Baron Randmer," said Bollar, "you
have the same character as d'Ahlefeld; take
care that you have not the same end."
"Iswear," cried the young man, "that what
amuses me the most is the serious imperturb¬
ability of Captain Bollar."
"And," replied Bollar, "what frightens
me most, is the inexhaustible gayety of
Lieutenant Randmer.''
At this moment a group of officers who
appeared to be holding an exciting conver¬
sation, approached.
"Ah, 'egad," cried Randmer, "I must
amuse them with this invention of Bollar's—-
Comrades," said he advancing towards them.
HAN OF ICELAND
79
" haven't you heard ? poor Frederick d'Ahle-
feld has just been crunched up alive by the
barbarous Han of Iceland."
At these words, he could not suppress a
burst of laughter, which, to his great surprise,
was received by the new-comers by cries of
indignation.
" What, you laugh! I would not have
believed that Randmer would repeat such
news in such a manner—laugh at such a mis¬
fortune !"
"What," said Randmer, troubled, "can it
be that it is true ?''
"Why! you have just said it!" cried
they, "can it be that you do not believe
your own words?"
" But I thought it was a joke of Bollar's."
An old officer spoke.
"The joke would have been in bad taste;
but unfortunately it is not one. Baron
Woethaiin, our colonel, has just received the
fatal news."
"A horrible adventure! It is frightful!"
repeated the crowd together.
" So we are going," said one of them, " to
fight wolves and bears with human faces!"
"We will receive musket shots," said
another, " without knowing where they come
from; we will be killed one by one, like
pheasants in a pigeon-house."
8o
HAN OF ICELAND
"The death of d'Ahlefeld," cried Bollar
in a solemn voice, "makes one shudder.
Our regiment is unfortunate. The death
of Dispolsen, that of the poor soldiers
found at Cascadthymore, and that of d'Ahle¬
feld; three tragic events in a very short
time."
Young Baron Randmer, who had remained
silent, awoke from his reverie.
" It seems impossible," said he; " Frederick
danced so well 1"
And after this profound reflection, he
became silent, whilst Captain Lory vowed
that he was very much afflicted at the death
of the young lieutenant, and remarked to the
second musketeer, Toric Belfast, that the
copper of his shoulder strap was not so bright
as usual.
XXXI.
Hush! Hush ! There is a man descending
by means of a ladder.
Ah 1 Yes, it is a spy.
Heaven could not grant me a greater favor
than the power to give up to you my life. I am
with you; but tell, I pray, to whom this army
belongs?
To the Comte de Barcelone.
What count ?
Lope de Vega—La Futrza latimosa.
There is something sinister and desolate in
the aspect of a flat and barren country, when
the sun has disappeared, and one is alone,
when the rustle of the dried-up grass, and the
monotonoiB cry of the grasshoppers is the
only sound heard; and when one sees only
dark shapeless clouds upon the horizon, like
phantoms or ghosts.
Such was the impression which mingled
with Ordener's sad thoughts, the evening of
this fruitless meeting with the brigand of
Iceland. Stunned for a moment by his sudden
8i
^2
HAN OF ICELAND
disappearance, he at first wished to follow
him, but he became lost in the heath, and he
had wandered all day over the wildest and
most savage country, without finding any trace
of man. At sunset, he found himself in the
middle of a large plain which showed on all
sides an equal circular horizon where nothing
promised shelter to the young traveler worn
out with fatigue and hunger.
It would have been bad enough if his bodily
sufferings had not been aggravated by his sad¬
ness of mind ; but, alas, it was so ! He had
attained the end of his journey but had
not fulfilled its object. He had not now even
the fond hopes that he had when in pursuit of
the brigand; and now in place of them he
had nothing but discouraging thoughts.
What would he do ? How could he return to
Schumacher without being able to ask his
benediction with Ethel? And what had
become of the fatal casket ? And his marriage
with Ulrica d'Ahlefeld ! Perhaps he might at
least rescue Ethel from her disgraceful captivity
and fly with her, seeking happiness in some
distant exile 1
He wrapped himself in his cloak and laid
down upon the ground. The sky was black;
stormy and ragged clouds tore along at inter¬
vals like funereal crape, driven by a cold wind
which swept across the plain. The young
HAN OF ICELAND
83
man hardly thought of these signs of the
approach of a violent storm; and besides,
could he find a refuge from the storm any more
than from his miserable thoughts ?
Suddenly he heard confused sounds of
human voices. Surprised, he lifted his head
and noticed, a short distance away, something
like shadows moving about in the darkness.
He watched them; a light shone in the midst
of the m)rsterious group, and Ordener saw,
with an astonishment easy to conceive, each
of the phantasmagorial figures descend into
the earth one by one. All disappeared.
Ordener was above the superstitions of his
time and country. His grave and mature
mind knew nothing of the vain beliefs of
the strange terrors which torment the infancy
of a people as well as the child born of
man.
Nevertheless there was something super¬
natural in this singular apparition which filled
him with a feeling contrary to reason ; for he
did not feel sure that the spirits of the dead
did sometimes come back to earth.
He rose, made the sign of the cross, and
moved towards the place where the visions had
disappeared. Large drops of rain began to
fall; his cloak fluttered like a sail, and the
plume of his ^t, tormented by the wind, beat
upon his face.
84
HAN OF ICELAND
Suddenly he stopped—a, light showed across
his path from a sort of large circular pit, into
which he would certainly have fallen if the
light had not luckily shone. He approached
the opening. A vague flickering light showed
at the bottom of an immense hole of frightful
depth, hollowed in the bowels of the earth.
These lights, which seemed like a magic fire
burned by gnomes, accentuated, in some way,
the darkness which the eye had to pierce to
discover it.
The fearless young man, at the edge of the
abyss, listened. The distant murmur of voices
reached him. He had no doubt that the
mysterious beings which appeared and dis¬
appeared before his eyes had gone down in the
pit, and he felt an irrepressible desire, doubt¬
less the destiny of his fate, to follow them ;
he felt ready even to follow the spectres even
into the mouth of hell. Besides, the storm
was beginning with fury, and this pit offered
a shelter. But how to descend ? How had
those, whom he wished to follow, gone down,
if they were not ghosts ? A second gleam
came to his rescue, and he saw at his feet the
upper end of a ladder, which disappeared in
the depths of the pit. It was formed of a
stout vertical joist, through which, at regular
distances, were driven short horizontal bars
of iron intended for the feet and hands
HAN OF ICELAND
8S
of those who dared to venture into the
chasm.
Ordener did not hesitate. He daringly
swung himself on to the ladder, and descended
into the abyss, without knowing where it
led and not knowing whether he would ever
see daylight again. Soon he could no longer
see the sky above his head. Soon the heavy
rain which beat upon the surface of the
earth came to him only as vapor or mist.
Soon the uproar of the storm was heard only
as moaning. He went down, down, and yet
hardly seemed to get nearer to the light.
Undiscouraged, however, he kept on, although
a misstep might at any moment have thrown
him into the abyss.
Meanwhile, the air became closer, the sound
of voices became more distinct, the light
began to color the walls of the pit—signs that
he was at least nearing the bottom. He
descended a few steps farther and could
clearly see at the foot of the ladder the
entrance to a tunnel from which came the
following words:
" Kennybol has not arrived," said a voice
impatiently.
" What can be keeping him?" said the same
voice after a moment's silence.
"We do not know. Master Hacket," was
answered.
86
HAN OF ICELAND
" He was to pass the night in the house of
his sister, Maase Braall, in the village of Surb,"
added another voice.
"You see," said the first speaker, "I keep
all my engagements. I agreed to bring you
Han of Iceland for a chief; I have brought
him."
A murmur, difficult to understand, answered
the words. Ordener's curiosity, already
awakened by the mention of Kennybol's name,
redoubled when he heard that of Han of
Iceland.
The same voice continued :
" My friends, Jonas and Norbith, if Ken-
nybol is late, what does it matter ? We are
already numerous enough to fear nothing; did
you find your standards in the ruins of Crag?"
"Yes, Master Hacket," answered many
voices.
" Well! Raise the standard, everything is
ready!"
" There is the money ! There is your
invincible chief. Courage ! March to the
deliverance of noble Schumacher, the unfor¬
tunate Count Griffenfeld!"
" Long live Schumacher!" repeated the
crowd in one voice. And the name of Schu¬
macher re-echoed through the cavern.
Ordener, full of curiosity and astonishment,
listened, panting with excitement. He could
HAN OF ICELAND
87
neither believe nor understand what he heard.
Schumacker mixed up with Kennybol and
Han of Iceland ! What dark tragedy was
brooding ?
" Listen," continued the same voice, " you
see the friend, the confidant of Count Griffen-
feld."
It was the first time that Ordener had ever
heard the voice. It continued:
Give me your confidence, as I give you
mine. Friends, everything favors you; you
will reach Drontheim without meeting a single
enemy."
"Master Hacket," interrupted a voice,
"lead us on. Peters tells me he saw the
entire Munckholm regiment marching through
the defiles against us."
"You are mistaken," answered the other
with authority. "The government as yet
knows nothing of your revolt, and its fancied
security is such that he who rejects your just
complaints, your oppressor, and the oppressor
of the illustrious and unfortunate Schumacker,
General Levin de Knud, has left Drontheim
to go to the capitol to assist at the celebration
of the famous marriage of his pupil, Ordener
Guldenlew, with Ulrica d'Ahlefeld."
One can imagine Ordener's feelings, to
hear in this wild and desert country, under
this mysterious vault, all the names of those in
88
HAN OF ICELAND
whom he was interested, and above all even
his very own ! A fearful doubt rose in his
mind. Could it be true ? Was this really an
agent of Count Griffenfeld whose voice he
heard ? What! Schumacker, the venerable
old man, the noble father of his noble Ethel,
revolting against the king his lord, consorting
with brigands, starting a civil war! And it
was for this hypocrite, for this rebel, that he,
son of the viceroy of Norway, pupil of General
Levin, had compromised his future, had risked
his life ! It was for him that he had sought
out and fought this Icelandic brigand, with
whom Schumacker seemed to be in confidence,
since he had been placed at the head of these
brigands! Who knows that even the iron
casket, for which he, Ordener, had been ready
to spill his blood, did not contain the secrets
of this disgraceful plot ? Or perhaps the vin¬
dictive prisoner of Munckholm had played
with him? Perhaps he had discovered his
name; perhaps, and how dismal this thought
was to the generous young man, he had
hoped, by encouraging this fatal journey, to
get rid of the son of an enemy ?
Alas! such were the disconsolate thoughts
that crowded upon Ordener's mind. The
noble young man wished himself dead at this
fatal moment; it seemed to him that all
pleasure in life was gone. There were many
HAN OF ICELAND
89
things in the assertions of he who spoke as the
envoy of Griffenfeld which seemed contradic¬
tory or doubtful; but as it all seemed intended
to mislead the unfortunate mountaineers,
Schumacher was none the less guilty in his
eyes, and Schumacher was the father of his
Ethel!
These thoughts so disturbed him that he
almost fell. He recovered and continued to
listen ; for one sometimes waits with inexpli¬
cable impatience for unhappiness that is none
the less.
"Yes," continued the voice of the envoy,
" you are commanded by the formidable Han
of Iceland. Who will dare to oppose you ? Your
cause is that of your wives and of your children
unjustly deprived of your rights; of an unfor¬
tunate nobleman, for twenty years unjustly
held in an infamous prison. Come, Schu¬
macher and liberty await you. Death to the
tyrants !"
"Death!" repeated a thousand voices;
and throughout the cavern could be heard the
noise of arms and the sound of mountain
horns.
"Stop!" cried Ordener. He had precipi¬
tately descended the remainder of the ladder.
The idea of sparing Schumacher this crime
and so much unhappiness to his country filled
his mind. But, the moment that he appeared
9©
HAN OF ICELAND
on the threshold of the cavern, the fear came
to him that he might, by imprudent remarks,
lose the father of his Ethel and perhaps Ethel
herself, and this fear drowned all other
thoughts; so that he stood there, pale and
astonished, gazing at the singular picture
which appeared to his sight.
It was like an immense square in a subter¬
ranean town surrounded by pillars which sup¬
ported the roof. These pillars shone like
columns of crystal and reflected the torches
borne by strangely dressed and queerly armed
men. One might well have taken it for one
of the fabulous meetings of which the old
chronicles speak, of sorcerers and demons
who carried stars for torches, and who lit up
at night the old woods and crumbling castles.
A loud cry arose.
" A stranger ! Death ! Death !"
A hundred arms were already raised against
Ordener. He put his hand to his side to
, grasp his sword. Noble young man ! In his
generous impulse he had forgotten that he was
alone and unarmed.
"Hold, hold!" cried a voice, which
Ordener knew as that of Schumacher's envoy.
He was a little fat man, dressed in black,
with false and glittering eyes. He advanced
towards Ordener.
" Who are you?" said he.
HAN OF ICELAND
91
Ordener did not answer j he was seized by
many hands and there was no place on his
breast upon which the point of a sword or the
barrel of a pistol did not rest.
"Are you afraid?" asked the little man
with a smile.
" If your hand were upon my heart instead
of these swords," said the young man coldly,
" you would find that it beat no faster than
yours, supposing you have a heart."
"Ah! Ah!" said the little man, "he is
high-spirited! Well! He may die." And
he turned on his heel.
"Give me death," replied Ordener; "it
is all I wish of you."
" A moment. Master Racket," said an old
man with a bushy beard, who leaned upon his
musket. " You are in my house, and I have
the sole right to send this Christian to meet
the dead whom he has seen here."
Master Racket began to laugh. "By
my faith, friend Jonas, as you please. It
makes little difference whether this spy is
judged by you or by me, provided he is
condemned."
The old man turned towards Ordener:
" Come, tell us who you are, you who so
daringly wish to know who we are."
Ordener remained silent. Surrounded by
the partisans of the very Schumacker for
92
HAN OF ICELAND
whom he would so willingly have given his
blood, he felt no other desire than to die.
"His courtesy does not wish to answer,"
said the old man, " when the fox is caught he
no longer cries. Kill him."
"My brave Jonas," said Racket, "sup¬
pose we let the death of this man be the
first exploit of Han of Iceland among
you."
" Yes, yes ! " cried several voices.
Ordener, astonished, but still undaunted,
looked everywhere for the eyes of Han of
Iceland, with whom he had so valiantly fought
for his life that very morning, and saw, with
redoubled surprise, a man of colossal stature,
dressed in the costume of a mountaineer,
advance towards him. The giant fixed a look
of stupid atrocity upon Ordener, and asked
for a hatchet.
"You are not Han of Iceland," said
Ordener decidedly.
"Let him die! Let him die!" cried
Racket in a furious voice.
Ordener saw that he must die. He put his
hands into his breast to draw out the lock of
Ethel's hair to give it a last kiss. This
movement caused a paper to fall from his
belt.
" What is the paper ?" said Racket. " Nor-
bith, take the paper."
HAN OF ICELAND
93
This Norbith was a young man whose dark,
hard features had an expression of nobleness.
He picked up the paper and unfolded it.
" Good God !" cried he, " it is the pass of
my poor friend Christopher Nedlam, my
unfortunate comrade who was executed a
week ago in the public square at Skongen for
passing false money."
"Well!" said Racket in a disappointed
tone, " keep the paper. I thought it of more
importance. You, my dear Han of Iceland,
may expedite your man."
Young Norbith placed himself in front of
Ordener, crying:
"This man is under my protection. My
head will fall before a single hair of his. I
will not allow the safe conduct of my friend
Christopher Nedlam to be violated."
Ordener, so miraculously protected, bowed
his head in shame; for he remembered how
disdainfully he had accepted the gift of the
Chaplain Athanasius Munder:—"May the
gift of the dying be a benefit to the traveler!"
"Give me my hatchet," repeated the
giant.
"He shall not die!" cried Norbith.
"What would the spirit of poor Nedlam say,
who was so unjustly hung ? I assure you that
he will not die; for Nedlam did not wish
him to die."
94
HAN OF ICELAND
"Indeed," said old Jonas, " Norbith is
right. How can you wish to kill this stranger.
Master Hacket ? He has the pass of Christo¬
pher Nedlani."
" But he is a spy, a spy," replied Hacket.
The old man placed himself beside the
young man in front of Ordener, and they said
gravely together :
" He has the pass of Christopher Nedlam,
who was hung at Skongen."
Hacket saw that he must give in; for all
the others began to murmur, saying that the
stranger could not die, since he carried the
safe conduct of Nedlam the Counterfeiter.
"Come," said he, between his teeth, with
concentrated rage. " Let him live then.
Besides it is your business."
" If he were the devil I would not kill
him," said Norbith, triumphantly.
So speaking, he turned to Ordener.
"Listen," continued he, "you should be
a good comrade, since you have the pass of
Nedlam, my poor friend. We are the royal
miners. We are revolting so as to get rid of
the tax. Master Hacket, whom you see, says
that we take up arms for a certain Count
Schumacker; but I do not know him.
Stranger, our cause is just. Listen, and answer
as though you were answering your patron
saint. Do you wish to join us ?"
HAN OF ICELAND
95
An idea occurred to Ordener.
" Yes," replied he.
Norbith offered him a sabre, which he
received in silence.
" Brother," said the young chief, "if you
wish to betray us, you will commence by
killing me."
At this moment the sound of a trumpet
sounded under the arches of the mine and
distant voices were heard saying : " Here is
Kenny bol."
XXXII.
He has thoughts in his head which rise to the
heavens.
Spanish Romances.
Sometimes the mind has a sudden inspira¬
tion, which a multitude of thought would not
have solved better.
Therefore we will not try to analyze the
willful and secret impulse which, by the pro¬
posal of young Norbith, threw the noble son
of the viceroy of Norway, like an outlaw,
among a crowd of revolting bandits. It was,
doubtless, a desire to solve this dark mystery,
mingled with a bitter disgust of life, a careless
despair of the future; perhaps some doubt of
the guilt of Schumacher, inspired by the
suspicious appearance of the men, whose
sinister looks struck the young man, or by an
unconscious belief in truth j and above all by
his love for Ethel. And, finally; one clear¬
sighted friend might be of use to Schumacher
among all these blind partisans.
96
xxxni.
Is that the chief? His looks fnghten me;
I dare not speak to him.
Maturin—Bertram.
When he heard the cries which announced
the arrival of the famous hunter Kennybol,
Hacket sprang towards him, leaving Ordener
with the two other chiefs.
" You are here at last, my dear Kennybol!
Come, let me present you to your formidable
chief, Han of Iceland."
Upon hearing this name, Kennybol, who
was pale, breathless and disordered, his face
bathed in sweat and his hands covered with
blood, sprang back.
"Han of Iceland!"
" Come," said Hacket, "be calm ! He has
come to help you. Look on him only as a
friend, as a companion."
Kennybol did not hear him.
" Han of Iceland here !" he repeated.
" Why! Yes," said Hacket with an equivo¬
cal laugh; " are you afraid of him ?"
97
«
98 HAN OF ICELAND
"What!" interrupted the hunter for the
third time, " you swear to me—Han of Ice¬
land in this mine ?''
Racket turned towards the others:
" Can our brave Kennybol be crazy?"
Then, addressing Kennybol;
" I see that it is fear of Han of Iceland that
has made you late."
Kennybol raised his hand to heaven.
" By Etheldera, martyred saint of Norway, it
was not fear of Han of Iceland, Master Racket,
but Han of Iceland himself, I swear to you,
that prevented me from being here sooner.''
These words created a murmur of astonish¬
ment amongst the crowd of mountaineers and
miners which surrounded the speakers, and
caused the same cloud upon Racket's brow
that Ordener's greeting had only a few minutes
before.
"What! What do you say?" asked he,
lowering his voice.
" I say. Master Racket, that if it had not
been for your cursed Han of Iceland I would
have been here before the first cry of the owl."
" Indeed ! What has he done to you?"
" Oh ! Do not ask me •, but may my beard
get white in a day if any one ever again finds
me bear-hunting."
" Have you nearly been eaten up by a
bear?"
HAN OF ICELAND
99
Kennybol shrugged his shoulders in dis¬
dain :
" A bear! A fine enemy ! Kennybol eaten
by a bear ! For what do you take me, Master
Racket ?"
"Ah, I beg your pardon," said Racket,
smiling.
" If you knew what had happened to me,
my brave sir," said the old hunter lowering
his voice, " you would not again tell me that
Ran of Iceland is here.''
Racket again seemed disconcerted. Re
caught Kennybol roughly by the arm, as
though he feared he would approach the spot
where, above the heads of the miners, appeared
the enormous head of the giant.
" My dear Kennybol," said he, in a voice
almost solemn, " tell me, I pray you, what
made you late. You know that just at this
time it might perhaps be of the greatest
importance."
"That is true," said Kennybol, after a
moment of reflection.
Then, yielding to Racket's repeated re¬
quests, he told him how, that very morning,
aided by six companions, he had driven a
white bear to the neighborhood of the grotto
of Walderhog, without noticing in the heat of
the pursuit, that they were near that dreaded
place; how the roars of the bear at bay had
#
lOO
HAN OF ICELAND
attracted a little man, a monster, a demon,
who, armed with a stone hatchet, threw
himself upon them in defense of the bear.
The appearance of this sort of devil, who
could be no other than Han, the Icelandic
demon, had frozen all seven with horror;
finally, his six unfortunate comrades had fallen
victims of the two monsters, and he, Kennybol,
only owed his safety to prompt flight which
had not been prevented, thanks to his agility,
to Han of Iceland's fatigue, and, above all, to
the protection of the kindly patron of the
huntsman. Saint Sylvestre.
"You see. Master Hacket,"said he, finish¬
ing his story, which he had ornamented with
all the mountaineer's flowers of rhetoric, and
still full of his terror, " you see that if I am
late, it is not I who should be blamed, and
that it is impossible that the demon of
Iceland, whom I left this morning in the
heather near Walderhog with his bear,
crunching the bodies of my six poor com¬
rades, could now be here, as your friend, in
the mine of Apsyl-Corh, at this meeting. I
protest that it is not possible. I know him,
now, the demon incarnate; I have seen him I"
Hacket, who had listened attentively, began
in a grave voice:
" My brave friend Kennybol, when you
speak of Han of Iceland or of hell, do not
HAN OF ICELAND
lOI
think anything impossible. I knew all that
you have just told me."
An expression of most extreme astonishment
and naive credulity appeared in the features
of the old hunter of the Kole Mountains.
"What!"
"Yes," continued Racket, in whose face
an acute observer might have seen something
triumphant and sardonic, " I knew all, except
however that you were the hero of this sad
adventure. Han of Iceland told it to me as
we came here."
"Truly?" said Kennybol; and his gaze
on Racket became one of respect and fear.
Racket continued with the same cool¬
ness :
" No doubt of it; but now, be easy, I am
going to lead you to this formidable Ran of
Iceland."
Kennybol gave a cry of terror.
"Rave no fear, I tell you," continued
Racket. " You must look upon him only as
your chief and comrade; only be careful not
to remind him of anything that happened this
morning. You understand ?''
Re had to yield, but it was only with
internal repugnance that he consented to allow
himself to be presented to the demon. Re
advanced towards the group where Ordener,
Jonas and Norbith were.
I02
HAN OF ICELAND
"My good Jonas, my dear Norbith," said
Kennybol, " may God help you !"
" We have need of him, Kennybol," said
Jonas.
At this moment Kennybol noticed Ordener,
who was looking at him.
"Ah! you here, young man," said he,
stepping quickly towards him and holding out
his rough hand, " welcome. It seems that
your daring has been successful."
Ordener, who did not understand what the
mountaineer seems to know so well, was
about to ask an explanation, when Norbith
cried:
"You know this stranger then, Kenny¬
bol?"
" By my guardian angel! Do I know him ?
I love him and esteem him. He is as devoted
as we are to the good cause."
And he threw towards Ordener a second
look of intelligence, which he was about to
answer, when Racket, who had been to
look for his giant, whom all the bandits
seemed to avoid with terror, hailed them,
saying :
"My brave huntsman, Kennybol, here is
your chief, the famous Han of Klipstadur !"
Kennybol threw upon the gigantic brigand
a glance more of surprise than of fear, and
whispered in Racket's ear.
HAN OF ICELAND I03
" Master Hacket, the Han of Iceland which
I left this morning at Walderhog was a little
man."
Hacket replied in a low voice:
"You forget, Kennybol! a demon !"
" True," said the credulous hunter, " he
has changed his form."
And he turned away trembling to furtively
make the sign of the cross.
XXXIV.
The mask approached; it was Angelo him¬
self; the rogue knew his business; he must
make sure of it.
Lessing.
It was in a sombre forest of old oaks,
where daylight hardly penetrated, that a short
man hailed another who appeared to be wait¬
ing and alone. The following conversation
commenced with lowered voices:
" I hope your grace will deign to pardon
me if I am late ! Many incidents have made
me late."
" What were they ?"
" The chief of the mountaineers, Kennybol,
did not arrive at the meeting place until
midnight and we were besides disturbed by
an unexpected witness."
"Who?"
" By a man who blundered like a fool into
the midst of our sanhedrim. I thought at
first that he was a spy, and I wished to dis¬
patch him; but he carried a safeguard from
some one very much respected by our miners,
104
HAN OF ICELAND
and they took him under their protection. I
considered, on reflection, that he could be
nothing but a curious traveler or a crazy
savant. At any rate, I have made allowance
for him."
" Did everything else go well?"
" Very well. The miners of Guldbranshal
and Faroe, commanded by young Norbith and
old Jonas, and the mountaineers of Kole, led
by Kennybol, should be on the march at this
moment. At four miles from the Blue Star,
their companions of Hubfalls and Sund-
Moer will join them ; those at Konigsberg and
the troop of Smiasen iron-workers who have
already forced the garrison of Walhstrom to
retreat, as the noble count knows, are waiting
some miles further on. Finally, my dear and
honored master, all the bands, joined together,
will halt to-night two miles from Skongen, in
the gorges of the North Post."
" But your Han of Iceland, how have they
received him ?*'
"With entire credulity."
" Can I not avenge myself on this monster
for the death of my son ? What a misfortune
that he escaped!"
" My noble lord, first of all use the name
of Han of Iceland to avenge yourself on
Schumacher, and you will afterwards find a
way to avenge yourself upon Han himself.
io6
HAN OF ICELAND
The insurgents will march all to-day and will
halt to-night to pass the night in the defile of
North Post, two miles from Skongen."
"What! You will let such a considerable
mob assemble so near Skongen ?—Musdoe-
mon !"
"A suspicion, noble count! Your grace
has only to send, this very moment, a mes¬
senger to Colonel Vcethaiin, whose entire
regiment should now be at Skongen; notify
him that all the forces of the rebels will be
camped to-night in the defile of the North
Post, which seems to have been expressly
created for an ambuscade."
"I understand you; but why, my dear
fellow, have you done this if the rebels are
so numerous?"
" The more formidable the insurrection, my
lord, the greater the crime of Schumacher and
the greater your victory. Besides, what dif¬
ference does it make if it is cut down at one
blow?"
" Good ! But why is the place for the halt
so near Skongen?"
"Because, in all the mountains, it is the
only place where defense is impossible. Only
those intended to figure before the judges
will be allowed to come out alive."
" Marvelous! Something urges me, Mus-
doemon, to promptly terminate this business.
HAN OF ICELAND
If everything is reassuring in one direction,
all is disquieting in the other. You know
that we have had secret search made for the
papers which might have fallen into possession
of Dispolsen."
" Well, my lord?"
" Well, I have just learned this moment that
the searcher has had mysterious interviews
with the cursed astrologer Cumbysulsum."
" Who died lately?"
"Yes, and that as he was dying the old
sorcerer gave back to Schumacker's agent some
papers."
" Damnation ! He had some of my papers,
showing our plan!"
" yimr plan, Musdoemon !"
"A thousand pardons, noble count! But why
did your grace put yourself in the hands of this
charlatan Cumbysulsum? The old traitor!"
" Listen, Musdoemon, I am not, like you,
without belief or faith. It was not without
good cause, my dear fellow, that I always had
confidence in the magical science of old
Cumbysulsum."
" If your grace had only had as little faith
in his faithfulness as confidence in his science 1
However, there is no need to be alarmed, my
noble master. Dispolsen is dead, his papers
are lost; in some days there will be no oppor¬
tunity to use them if he had them."
io8
HAN OF ICELAND
" In any event what charge could be brought
against me ?"
" Or against me, protected by your grace?"
"Yes, yes, my dear fellow, you could,
certainly, count on me; but hasten, I pray
you, the upshot of all this; I will send the
message to the colonel. Come, my men wait
for me behind these bushes, and we must take
the road back to Drontheim, as the Mecklen-
burger has no doubt left. Continue to serve
me well, and, notwithstanding all the Cumby-
sulsums and Dispolsens on the earth, you can
count on me through life and death !''
" I beg your grace to believe.—The devil!"
Here they both disappeared into the woods,
and their voices gradually died away; and
soon nothing was heard but the tread of the
two horses in the distance.
XXXV.
. . . Strike up, drummers! They are coming!
. . . They have all made vows, and have all
vowed the same thing;—not to return to Castille
without the count, our prisoner; their lord.
They have a stone statue of him in a chariot,
and are determined not to turn back, unless they
see he himself in place of the statue.
And as a sign that he who takes a step back¬
ward shall be looked upon as a traitor, they have
all raised their hands and made a vow.
And they marched towards Arlan^on, as fast
as the beast drawing the chariot could go; they
stopped no more than the sun.
Burgos was deserted; only the women and
children remained.
They talked among themselves of horses and
falcons, and shouted that Castille must be freed
from the tribute she paid to Leon.
And just before entering Navarre, they met on
the frontier. . . . Spanish Romance.
While the conversation which we have just
read was taking place in one of the forests
about Smiasen, the rebels, divided into three
columns, left the lead mine of Apsyl-Corh, by
the principal entrance, which opened into the
head of a deep ravine.
109
no
HAN OF ICELAND
/
Ordener, who, in spite of his desire to be
near Kennybol, had been put in the ranks of
Norbith's band, could at first make out noth¬
ing but a long procession of torches, the
glare from which was reflected on the axes,
forks, picks, clubs, studded with iron points,
enormous hammers, pikes and other tools,
with which the rebels were accustomed,
mingled with other arms which showed that
the revolt was the result of a conspiracy;
such as muskets, sabres and carbines. When
the sun arose, and the light of the torches
had turned into smoke, he was better able to
observe the aspect of this singular army which
moved forward in disorder, with rough songs
and wild cries, like a pack of hungry wolves
going to feast on a body. It was divided
into three divisions, or at any rate into three
crowds. First marched that of the Kole
mountaineers, commanded by Kennybol,
whom they all resembled in their costumes of
beast-skins, and likewise by their rough and
hardy appearance. Then came Norbith's
young miners and the old ones under Jonas,
with their large felt hats, wide pantaloons,
arms entirely bare and black faces, whose eyes
looked stupidly at the sun. Above these
tumultuous bands red banners floated pell-
mell, on which were different devices, such as:
Long live Schumacker ! Deliver our liberator !
HAN OF ICELAND
III
Liberty for the miners ! Liberty for CouTit
Griffenfeld! Death to Guldenlew / Death
to the oppressors / Death to d^Ahlefeld
The rebels, however, seemed to look upon
these ensigns as much as burdens as orna¬
ments, and passed them from hand to hand
when the standard-bearers were tired or wished
to join in the psalm singing or vociferous
shouts of their comrades.
The rear guard of this strange army was
composed of six carts drawn by reindeers
and large asses, destined no doubt to carry
the ammunition; and the advance guard,
led by Hacket, was headed by the giant, who
marched alone, armed with a club and a
hatchet, and behind him came the ranks com¬
manded by Kennybol, who kept at a good
distance through terror, never took his eyes
off him as though to follow the different trans¬
figuration which his diabolical chief might
wish to make.
This torrent of rebels thus descended, accom¬
panied by a confused murmur, and filled the
pine woods with the noise of trumpets used by
the mountaineers of upper Drontheim. It was
increased by the arrival of the different bands
of Sund-Moer, Hubfallo, Konigsberg, and the
troop of Smiasen iron-workers, who presented
an odd contrast to the rest of the rebels. They
were large tall men, armed with pincers and
113
HAN OF ICELAND
hammers, having as cuirass, large leather aprons
and carrying no other ensign than a large
wooden cross; they marched gravely and in
time, with a regularity that was rather
religious than military, with no other war
cry than psalms and Bible songs. They had
no other leader than their cross-bearer, who
marched unarmed at their head.
All this mob of rebels met no other human
being in its march. At their approach, the
shepherd drove his flock into a cavern, and
the peasants deserted their villages; for the
inhabitants of the plains and valleys were all
the same; they feared the bandit's trumpet as
much as the archer's horn.
Thus they crossed hills and forests, follow¬
ing winding paths where they found more
traces of wild beasts than of man, circling the
ponds, crossing the torrents, the ravines and
the marches. Ordener did not recognize one
of these places. Once only, looking up, he
noticed on the horizon the bluish outline
of a large curved rock. He leaned towards
one of his rough traveling companions and
asked :
" My friend, what is that rock down there,
in the south, to the right ?"
"It is the Vulture's Neck, the rock of
Oelmce," answered the other.
Ordener sighed deeply.
XXXVI.
My daughter, may God guard and blesa you!
R£gnie&.
Monkey, paroquets, combs and ribbons,
were all ready at Countess d'Ahlefeld's to
receive Lieutenant Frederick. She had just
received the last novel of the famous Scud6ry
at great expense. It had, by her order, been
richly bound with silver and gilt clasps, and
was placed between the essence bottles and
handkerchief boxes, on the elegant toilet table
with the legs ornamented with inlaid woods,
with which she had furnished the future
boudoir of her dear son Frederick. When
she had thus attended to the minute details of
these maternal cares, which had up to now
filled her thoughts, she thought she could think
of nothing better than to annoy Schumacher
and Ethel. The departure of General Levin
had left them defenseless.
Many things had happened in the donjon
at Munckholm in a short while, about which
she had only been able to learn vague rumors.
113
114
Han of iceland
Who was the serf, vassal, or peasant, who, to
believe Frederick's ambiguous and embar¬
rassed words, had gained the love of the ex-
chancellor's daughter? What were the rela¬
tions of Baron Ordener with the prisoners at
Munckholm? What were the incomprehen¬
sible motives for the singular absence of
Ordener at the very time when the two king¬
doms were busy with the approaching marriage
with Ulrica d'Ahlefeld, whom he seemed to
despise? Finally, what had passed between
Levin de Knud and Schumacher? The brain
of the countess was full of conjectures. She
finally resolved, in order to clear up these
conjectures, to risk a descent to Munckholm,
hoping at the same time to satisfy her woman's
curiosity and her hatred for her enemies.
One evening when Ethel, alone in the
garden of the donjon, had just, for the sixth
time, engraved some mysterious sign upon the
black post of the door where she had last seen
Ordener, this door opened. The girl trembled.
It was the first time that this postern had been
opened since it had been closed upon her.
A tall pale woman, dressed in black, stood
before her. Her smile was like poisoned
honey, and there was, beneath her peaceable
and kindly look, something like an expression
of hate, mingled with involuntary pity and
admiration.
HAN OF ICELAND
"5
Ethel gazed upon her with astonishment,
almost with fear. Since her old nurse, who
had died in her arms, this was the first woman
who had ever entered the interior of Munck-
holm.
" My child," said the stranger softly, " you
are the daughter of the prisoner of Munck-
holm ?"
Ethel did not dare to turn her head; some¬
thing about the prisoner repelled her, and
there seemed to be remorse in the sound of
this smooth voice. She answered:
"I am called Ethel Schumacher. My
father tells me that they named me, when in
my cradle. Countess of Tongsberg and Princess
Wollin."
"Your father tells you that!" cried the
woman in a voice which she at once altered.
Then she added: "You have suffered many
misfortunes."
" Misfortune received me at my birth, in
its iron arms," answered the young prisoner.
" My noble father says that it will only give
me up to death."
A smile passed the lips of the stranger, who
replied in a voice of pity.
" And you do not rebel against those who
have forced you to pass your life in this cell ?
You do not curse the authors of your mis¬
fortune ?''
ii6
HAN OF ICELAND
" No, for fear our maledictions might make
them suffer even worse than we do."
"And," continued the pale woman impas-
sibly, "do you know the authors of this suf¬
fering of which you complain?"
Ethel thought a moment and said:
" All is done by the will of Heaven."
"Your father never speaks to you of the
king ?''
" The king ? I pray for him morning and
evening without even knowing him."
Ethel could not understand why the stranger
bit her lips at this response.
"Does your father never, in his anger,
name his implacable enemies. General Arens-
dorf. Bishop Spollyson, and Chancellor
d'Ahlefeld?"
" I do not know of whom you speak."
" And do you not know the name of Levin
deKnud?"
The recollections of the scene of two days
before, between the governor of Drontheim
and Schumacher was too fresh in Ethel's mind
for her to have forgotten the name of Levin
de Knud.
"Levin de Knud?" said she; "itseems
to me that that is the man for whom my
father has so much esteem and even affec¬
tion."
" What!" cried the tall woman.
HAN OF ICELAND
117
" Yes," continued the young girl. " It
was Levin de Knud that my father defended
so vigorously the day before yesterday against
the governor of Drontheim."
These words redoubled the other's surprise.
"Against the governor of Drontheim! Do
not play with me, girl. It is your interests
that have brought me here. Your father took
the part of General Levin de Knud against
the governor of Drontheim?"
" Of the general! It seems to me it was a
captain.—But no, you are right.—My father,"
continued Ethel, " seemed to have as much
regard for this General Levin de Knud as he
had hate for the governor of Drontheim."
"Here is another strange mystery!" said
the tall pale woman to herself, who became
more and more curious. " My dear child,
what then passed between your father and the
governor of Drontheim ?"
The questioning tired Ethel, who looked
steadily at the tall woman.
" Am I a criminal that you question me
thus?"
At this the unknown seemed disconcerted,
as though she felt that she had made a
mistake. She continued, however, in a voice
slightly trembling.
"You would not speak to me thus if you
knew from whom and why I come."
ii8
HAN OF ICELAND
"What!" said Ethel, "you come from
him ? Do you bring me a message from
him ?''
And a blush spread over her face; and her
heart swelled in her breast, fluttering with
impatience and anxiety.
" From whom ?" asked the other.
The girl stopped at the very moment she
was about to pronounce the name of her
adored one. She had noticed in the eye of
the stranger a gleam of sinister joy like a
flash from hell. She said sadly:
"You do not know he of whom I would
speak."
The expression of foiled spite for a
second time appeared in the face of the
other.
"Poor girl!" she cried, "what can I do
for you ?''
Ethel did not hear her. Her thoughts were
beyond the mountains of the North, with the
adventurous traveler. Her head was bowed
on her breast and her hands were eloped
beside it.
"Does your father hope to leave this
prison ?''
This question, repeated twice by the un¬
known, brought Ethel to herself.
" Yes," said she.
And tears welled in her eyes.
HAN OF ICELAND
119
Those of the stranger sparkled at the
response.
" He hopes to! tell me! and how! By what
means! When !"
" He hopes to leave this prison, because he
hopes to leave this life."
There is sometimes in the simplicity of a
soft answer a force that vanquishes all the
nerves of a heart hardened in wickedness.
Something seemed to have touched the fine
lady, for her expression suddenly changed,
and, placing her cold hand on Ethel's arm,
she said :
"Listen to me," said she in a tone almost
frank; " have you heard that your father's
days are again menaced by judicial trial ? That
he is suspected of having fermented a revolt
among the miners of the North?"
The words "revolt" and "trial" had no
meaning to Ethel; she turned her large dark
eyes toward the unknown:
" What do you mean?"
" That your father is conspiring against the
State; that his crime is almost discovered ,*
that this crime entails the pain of death."
" Death ! crime !" cried the poor child.
" Crime and death," said the strange
woman gravely.
" My father! My noble father !" continued
Ethel.
I20 HAN OF ICELAND
"Alas ! he who passes his days in listening
to me reading the Edda and the Evangelists !
He, conspire ! What has he done to you?"
" Do not look upon me so j I repeat to you,
I am far from being your enemy. Your
father is suspected of a great crime, I warn
you. Perhaps, instead of these evidences of
hatred, I should have the right to gratitude.''
This reproach touched Ethel.
" Oh ! pardon, noble lady! Pardon ! Until
now the only human beings we have seen have
been our enemies. I have been defiant
tQward you; you will pardon me for it, will
you not ?''
The stranger smiled.
" What! my daughter! Can it be true that
until to-day you have never met a friend?"
A hot blush fiamed in Ethel's cheeks. She
hesitated a moment.
" Yes—God knows the truth. We have
found a friend, noble lady, one only !"
"Only one!" said the tall woman pre¬
cipitately. "Tell me his name, for Heaven's
sake, you do not know how important it is.
It is for your father's welfare. Who is this
friend?"
" I do not know," said Ethel.
The unknown grew pale.
" Is it because I wish to serve you that you
play with me ? Remember that it concerns
HAN OF ICELAND
121
the life of your father. Tell me, who is the
friend of whom you speak?"
" Heaven knows, noble lady, that all I
know of him is his name, which is Ordener."
Ethel pronounced these words with the
diffidence with which one pronounces before
others the name of one's love.
"Ordener! Ordener!" repeated the
unknown with strange emotion, whilst her
hands nervously played with the edge of her
white veil. "And what is the name of his
father ?'' she asked in a troubled voice.
"I do not know," answered the young
girl. " What matters his family or his father!
This Ordener, noble lady, is the most generous
of men."
Alas! The accent in which this was
spoken gave up Ethel's secret to the penetra¬
tion of the stranger.
The stranger became calm and composed,
and, without taking her eyes from the young
girl, asked:
" Have you heard tell of the approaching
marriage of the son of the viceroy with the
daughter of the present grand chancellor,
d'Ahlefeld?"
She had to repeat this question in order to
bring to Ethel's mind things which did not
seem to interest her.
" I believe so," was her only answer.
122
HAN OF ICELAND
Her calmness, her indifferent air seemed to
surprise the unknown.
"Well; and what do you think of this
marriage?"
It was impossible to perceive the least
alteration in Ethel's large eyes, whilst she
answered:
" Truly, nothing. May their union be
happy!"
" The Counts Guldenlew and d'Ahlefeld,
fathers of the betrothed, are great enemies of
your father."
"Then," repeated Ethel softly, " may the
union of their children be happy!"
"An idea occurs to me," continued the
astute unknown; " if your father's life is
menaced, you might be able, on the occasion
of this great marriage, to obtain his pardon
from the son of the viceroy."
" May the saints reward you for all your
kind interest in us, noble lady; but how
could I get my prayer to the viceroy's
son?"
These words were spoken with so much
good faith that a gesture of astonishment
escaped from the stranger.
" What! Do you not know him ?"
" That powerful lord !'' cried Ethel. "You
forget that I have never yet crossed the
threshold of this fortress."
HAN OF ICELAND
123
"True indeed," murmured the tall woman,
under her breath; "what did the old fool
Levin tell me? She does not know him."
Then raising her voice: "Not impossible,
however, you must have seen the son of the
viceroy, he has been here."
" That may be, noble lady ; of all the men
who have come here I have never seen any
but he, my Ordener.''
"Your Ordener!" interrupted the un¬
known. She continued without appearing to
notice Ethel's blushes : "Do you not know
a young man with noble features, graceful
height, step sure and grave ? His eyes are
kindly and austere, his complexion as fresh as
that of a young girl, his hair chestnut-
brown."
"Oh!" cried poor Ethel, "it is he, my
betrothed, my adored Ordener ! Tell me,
noble and dear lady, do you bring me some
news of him? Where have you met him?
He has told you that he deigns to love me,
has he not ? He has told you that he has all
my love ? Alas 1 an unhappy prisoner has
nothing else than love. What a noble friend 1
Only a week ago, I saw him in this very
place, with his green cloak, under which beat
his generous heart, and the black plume
which swung so gracefully over his fine fore¬
head."
124
HAN OF ICELAND
She did not finish. She saw the tall
unknown woman grow pale and then red,
and heard her cry in a thundering voice:
" Unhappy one ! You love Ordener Gul-
denlew, the betrothed of Ulrica d'Ahlefeld,
the son of your father's mortal enemy, the
viceroy of Norway!"
Ethel fell fainting.
XXXVII.
Caupolican.—March with such precaution that the
earth itself will not hear the noise of your foot¬
steps. . . . Redouble your carefulness, my
friends. ... If we arrive without being heard,
I warrant you a victory.
Tucapel,—Night has covered everything with her
wings ; a frightful darkness envelopes the earth.
We do not hear a single sentinel, we have not
seen a single spy.
Ringo.—^Advance!
Titcapel.—What do I hear? Are we discovered?
Lope de Vega—I'Araujue domptl.
" Tell me, Guidon Stayper, old comrade,
do you know that the evening breeze begins
to beat the hair of my cap smartly on my
face?"
It was Kennybol, who, taking his gaze for
a moment from the giant who marched at the
head of the rebels, half turned towards one of
the mountaineers whom a bend in the path
had brought near him.
The latter nodded, and changed his banner
from one shoulder to another, with a great
125
126
HAN OF ICELAND
sigh. " Hum ! I believe, captain, that in
this cursed gorge of Black Post, where the
wind rushes like a torrent, we are to have
nothing warmer than afire in a brazier."
" We can only have such a fire lest the old
owls up in the rocks be wakened. I do not
like owls; the horrible night when I saw the
fairy Ubfem, she had the form of an owl."
" By Saint Sylvestre !" interrupted Guidon
Stayper turning his head, " the angel of the
wind is giving us hard blows with his wing
to-night! If they follow my advice. Captain
Kennybol, they will burn all the fir trees on
the mountain. Besides, it would be a fine
thing to see an army making war with a
mountain."
" God forbid, ray dear Guidon ! Think of
the roebucks! the falcons! and the pheas¬
ants ! It is well enough to cook the game;
but not to burn it."
Old Guidon began to laugh.
" Our captain is still always the same
demon Kennybol, a wolf to the roebucks, a
bear to the wolves, and a buffalo to the
bears !"
" Are we still far from Black Post ?" asked
a voice among the hunters.
"Comrade," answered Kennybol, "we
will enter the gorge at nightfall; just now we
are at the Four Crosses."
HAN OF ICELAND
127
There was a moment of silence, whilst noth¬
ing was heard but the tramp of feet, the
moaning of the breeze, and the distant chant
of the band of Smiasen iron-workers.
" Friend Guidon Stayper," continued
Kennybol, after whistling an air of the hunts¬
man Rollon, " you have just spent some days
at Drontheim ?"
" Yes, captain ; our brother Georges Stay¬
per was ill, and I took his place in his boat,
so that his poor family might not die of
hunger while he was dying of disease.''
" And whilst you were at Drontheim did
you have a chance to see the count, the
prisoner—Schumacker—Gleffenhem—what is
his name anyhow ? At any rate, the man in
whose name we rebel against the royal tax,
and whose arms you bear embroidered on the
large scarlet banner you carry?"
" It is heavy enough !" said Guidon. " You
want to speak of the prisoner of Munckholm
castle, the count?—so be it. And how do
you expect, my brave captain, that I was to
see him? I would have to have," said he,
lowering his voice, " eyes like this demon's
who marches in front of us, without, however,
leaving behind the odor of sulphur that he
does; eyes like this Han of Iceland who sees
through walls, or the key of Queen Mab which
opens all locks. There is among us now, I
0
128
HAN OF ICEtAND
am sure, only a single man who has seen the
count—the prisoner of whom you speak."
"Only one? Ah! Master Hacket? But
Racket is no longer with us. He left us to¬
night to return ..."
"It is not Master Hacket that I mean,
captain."
"And who then?"
"The young man with the green cloak
and black feather, who fell among us last
night."
"Well?"
"Well!" said Guidon, nearing Kennybol,
" it is he who knows the count—this famous
count, indeed, as well as I know you. Captain
Kennybol."
Kennybol looked at Guidon, winked his
left eye and snapped his teeth, then slapping
him on the shoulder gave vent to the trium¬
phant exclamation which expresses our self-
esteem when we are satisfied with our pene¬
trations :
" I thought so!"
" Yes, captain," continued Guidon Stayper,
changing the scarlet standard to his other
shoulder, " I am sure that the young man
with the green cloak has seen the count—I
don't know his name, but the one we are
going to fight for—in the donjon at Munck-
holm, and he seemed to attach no more
HAN OF ICELAND
129
importance to entering the prison, than you
or I would in entering a royal reserve.''
" And how do you know tliat, brother
Guidon ?"
The old mountaineer seized Kennybol's
arm, then, half-opening his otter skin with a
precaution almost suspicious, said : " Look !"
" By my most holy patron !" cried Kenny-
bol, " that shines like a diamond !'*
It was indeed a rich diamond buckle,
attached to Guidon Stayper's coarse belt.
" And it is true that they are diamonds,"
he continued, dropping the skirt of his coat,
" it is as true as it is true that the moon is
two days' march from the earth, and that the
leather of my belt is made of the skin of a
dead buffalo."
But Kennybol's face clouded, and had
changed from astonishment to severity. He
stared at the ground as he said, with a sort of
savage solemnity:
" Guidon Stayper, of the village of Chol-
Sce, in the mountains of Kole, your father,
Medprath Stayper, died aged two hundred
years, without reproach, for it is no wrong to
accidentally kill a royal buck o: an elk.
Guidon Stayper, you have on your gray head
fifty-seven good years, which is only young
for an owl. Guidon Stayper, comrade, I
would much rather, for your sake, see the
130
HAN OF ICELAND
diamonds of that buckle turned to grains of
sand, if you did not come by it fairly,—as
fairly as a royal pheasant gets a lead musket
ball."
In the delivery of this singular admonition
there was something in the chief's voice that
smacked of warning and forgiveness.
" As true as Captain Kennybol is the most
daring hunter in Kole," answered Guidon
without emotion, "and as true that these
diamonds are diamonds, I came by them
fairly."
" Truly?" answered Kennybol in the voice
of mingled confidence and doubt.
" God and my patron saint know," replied
Guidon, "that one evening, when I had
just directed some people who were carrying
the body of an officer found on the Sands
of Urchtal, the way to the Spladgest of
Drontheim, about a week ago, a young man
came to my boat, and said: 'To Munck-
holm!'—I did not care over much about
going, captain, you know a bird does not
willingly fly into a cage. However, the young
man seemed to have such an air of importance,
he was followed by a groom who led two
horses, and he spoke with such an air of
authority, that I took up my oars, that is to
say, my brother's oars. My good angel had
willed it. On arrival, the young passenger.
HAN OF ICELAND
after having spoken to the sergeant, who no
doubt commanded the fortress, threw to me as
payment — as God is my witness!—the
diamond buckle which I have just shown to
you, and which would have belonged to my
brother George, and not to me, if, at that
moment, the traveler—Heaven preserve him I
—had not engaged me to make the journey
which George would have made. That is the
truth, Captain Kennybol."
''Good."
Gradually the chief's face recovered all the
serenity which it, naturally hard and severe,
could, and he asked Guidon, in a cheerful
voice:
"And you are sure, old comrade, that this
young man was the same one who is now
behind us with Norbith ?"
"Sure. I am not likely to forget, even
among a thousand, the face of he who has
made my fortune. Besides, it is the same
cloak, the same black feather."
" I believe you. Guidon."
" It is clear that he went to see the famous
prisoner; for if it had not been for some great
mystery, he would not have paid the ferryman
so well; besides, he is now among us . . ."
"You are right."
"And I imagine, captain, that the young
stranger has more of the confidence of the
132
HAN OF ICELAND
count than Master Hacket, who only seems of
use, upon my soul, to howl like a wild cat."
Kennybol nodded his head expressively.
" Comrade, you have said just what I was
about to say. I would much rather, in this
business, obey this young stranger than the
envoy Hacket. May Saint Sylvestre and
Saint Olaiis help me, if I do not believe that
we are more indebted to the unknown than to
the braggart Hacket for the aid of the Ice¬
landic demon who leads us."
" Truly, captain ?" asked Guidon.
Kennybol opened his mouth to answer,
when he felt a hand on' his shoulder. It was
Norbith.
" Kennybol, we are betrayed! Gormon
Woestroem has just come from the south. The
entire musketeer regiment is marching against
us. The uhlans of Sleswig are at Sparbo;
three companies of Danish horse dragoons are
at the village of Lcevig. All along the road
he saw more green jackets than bushes. We
must hasten to capture Skongen; and must
not stop until we get there. There, at least,
we will be able to make a stand. Gormon
thinks he even saw muskets glittering in the
shrubbery along the gorges of Black Post."
The young chief was pale and excited, but
his looks and tone of voice showed that he
still retained his courage and daring.
HAN OF ICELAND
133
"Impossible!" cried Kennybol.
" Certain ! Certain 1" said Norbith.
" But Master Racket . .
"Is a traitor or a coward. Mind what I
say, comrade Kennybol. Where is he, this
Racket ?"
At this moment old Jonas hailed the two
chiefs. Discouragement was in his features, and
it was easy to see that he knew the fatal news.
The glances of the two old men, Jonas and
Kennybol, met, and they began to wag their
heads.
"Well! Jonas? Well! Kennybol?" said
Norbith.
The old chief of the Faroe miners passed
his hand slowly across his rugged brow, and
answered in a low voice :
" Yes, it is too true, it is surely so. Gormon
Woestroem has seen them."
"If it is so," said Kennybol, "what will
we do?"
" What will we do ?" repeated Jonas.
" I advise, comrade Jonas, that we will do
well to halt."
"And it would be still wiser, brother
Kennybol, to retreat."
"To halt! To retreat!" cried Norbith.
" We must advance !"
The two old men turn cold and suspicious
glances towards the younger.
134
HAN OF ICELAND
" Advance !" said Kennybol. " And what
about the musketeers of Munckholm?"
"And the Sleswig uhlans?" added Jonas.
"And the Danish dragoons?" continued
Kennybol.
Norbith stamped his foot.
" And the royal tax ? And my mother, who
is dying of hunger and cold?"
"The devil! The royal tax!" said the
miner Jonas with a sort of groan.
"What of it?" said the mountaineer
Kennybol.
Jonas took Kennybol by the hand.
" Companion, you are a hunter, and have
not the honor of being a ward of our glorious
sovereign Christian IV. May the sainted
King Olaiis, who is in heaven, deliver us from
the tax!"
"Ask that favor of your sabre!" said
Norbith in a savage voice.
" These daring words cost a young man
little, comrade Norbith," answered Kennybol;
"but think, if we advance, all these green
jackets ..."
" It would be a fine thing for us to return to
the mountains like foxes before wolves; they
know our names and of our revolt; and, if we
must die, I would rather have a musket ball
than a gibbet rope."
Jonas nodded approvingly.
HAN OF ICELAND
135
" The devil! The tax for our brothers! and
the gibbet for us ! Norbith is certainly right."
" Give me your hand, brave Norbith," said
Kennybol, " there is danger both ways. It is
better to march straight to the precipice than
to fall over backwards."
"Forward! Forward then!" cried old
Jonas rattling his sabre.
Norbith grasped their hands eagerly.
" Brothers, listen ! Be as daring as I am and
I will be as prudent as you. We will not halt
until we arrive at Skongen; the garrison is
feeble and we will overwhelm it. Since we
must do so we will pass through the gorges of
the Black Post, but in perfect silence. We
must pass, even if the enemy are there on
guard."
" I hardly think the musketeers can have
reached the bridge of Oedals, near Skongen,
but what does it matter. Silence !"
"Silence ! So be it," repeated Kennybol.
"Meanwhile, Jonas," continued Norbith,
" we will return to our posts. To-morrow,
perhaps, ve will be at Drontheim, in spite of
the musketeers, the uhlans, the dragoons and
all the green jackets of the south.''
The three chiefs separated. Soon the pass¬
word, Silence / passed from rank to rank, and
this band of rebels, a moment before so noisy,
became, in the rapidly increasing night, like
136
HAN OF ICELAND
a troop of mute phantoms, wandering noise¬
lessly about a cemetery.
Meanwhile the road they were following
became narrower, and hemmed in on all sides
by tall rocks, which became steeper and steeper.
Just as the ruddy moon rose from a mass of
rugged clouds, Kennybol leaned towards
Guidon Stayper and said :
" We are about to enter the defile of the
Black Post."
Indeed, the noise of the torrent which wound
its way between the two mountains was already
heard, and in the midst could be seen the
enormous oblong pyramid of granite, called
the Black Post, standing out against the gray
of the sky and the white of the snow on distant
mountains, whilst the west, covered with
underbrush, was bounded by the forest of
Sparbo and a long amphitheatre of rocks,
arranged like a giant staircase.
The rebels, forced to lengthen out their
columns in the winding path between the two
mountains, continued their march. They
entered the gorges without torches and with¬
out noise. The sound of their footsteps was
even drowned in the crash of the cascades and
the moaning of the wind as it ploughed
through the Druidical forests covered with
ice and snow. Lost in the dark depths of
the defile the moonlight did not reach the
HAN OF ICELAND
*37
iron of their weapons, and the white eagles
which circled above did not notice that a
great multitude of men disturbed these soli¬
tudes.
Once old Guidon Stayper touched Kenny-
bol on the shoulder with the butt end of his
carbine:
" Captain ! captain ! I see something behind
that clump of shrubs."
" So do I," answered the chief mountaineer,
" it is the waters of the torrent reflecting the
clouds."
And they passed on.
Another time Guidon roughly stopped his
chief.
" Look," said he, " are not these musket-
barrels up there in the shadow of that rock?"
Kennybol shook his head, then after a
moment's reflection: " Calm yourself, brother
Guidon. It is only moonlight falling on an
icicle."
Nothing to alarm them happened, and the
different bands, peaceably following the
windings of the defile, soon forgot all the
dangers which their position offered.
After two hours of difficult marching
through trunks of trees and blocks of gran¬
ite with which the road was obstructed,
the advance guard entered the clump of
firs which ended the gorge of Black Post,
HAN OF ICELAND
above which hung dark and forbidding
rocks.
Guidon Stayper approached Kennybol,
vowing that he was glad to at last be about to
leave this cursed gorge, and that he must give
thanks to Saint Sylvestre that the Black Post
had not been fatal to them.
Kennybol began to laugh, swearing that he
never had any old wife's fears; for, with
most men, when peril is past, it no longer
exists, and they then seek to prove the cour¬
age which they had not then been able to
show.
At this moment, two little round balls of
fire, like two burning coals, moving in the
darkness, attracted their attention.
" Bless my soul!" said he in a low voice,
grasping Guidon's arm, "there, certainly,
are two fiery eyes which should belong to
the finest wild cat that ever howled in a
thicket.''
"You are right," answered old Stayper,
" and, if he was not marching in front of us, I
would say they were the eyes of that cursed
demon of Icel ..."
"Ssch !" cried Kennybol.
Then, seizing his carbine :
"Truly," continued he, " it will never be
said that such a fine shot was allowed to escape
Kennybol."
HAN OF ICELAND
139
The shot was made before Guidon Stayper,
who grasped the arm of the imprudent hunts¬
man was able to stop him. It was not a
cry of a wild cat which rang out with the
report of the carbine, but a frightful roar of
a tiger, followed by a human laugh, more
horrible still.
The shot did not die away, echo by echo,
in the mountains, for the flash of the carbine
had hardly gleamed in the darkness, the
noise of the fatal shot had hardly broken
the silence, when a multitude of formidable
unexpected voices were heard in the moun¬
tains, in the gorges, and in the forests, crying,
long live the king f loud as thunder. The cry
rolled above their heads, on either side, be¬
fore them and behind them. And when the
terrible rattle of the musketry, on all sides,
struck them and enlightened them at the same
time, they saw, amidst the clouds of smoke,
a battalion behind each rock, and a soldier
behind each tree.
XXXVIII.
To arms I to arms! Captains!
Le Captif d'Ochali.
Let US go back to beginning of the day
just finished, and return to Skongen, where,
whilst the insurgents were leaving the lead
mine of Apsyl-Corh, the musketeer regiment,
which we saw on the march in the thirtieth
chapter of this true tale, had just arrived.
After having given several orders for the
lodging of the soldiers of his command.
Baron Voethaiin, colonel of the musketeers,
was about to enter his hotel near the town gate,
when he felt a heavy hand placed familiarly
on his shoulder. The colonel turned about.
It was a short man, whose features were
covered with a large straw hat, leaving only a
red bushy beard in sight. He was carefully
wrapped in the folds of a cloak of gray drug¬
get, which, except that no hood could be seen,
seemed to have been a hermit's robe, and which
hid his hands encased in large gloves.
" Well, fellow !" asked the colonel irritably,
" what the devil do you want?"
140
HAN OF ICELAND
141
"Colonel of the Munckholm musketeers,"
answered the man with a queer look, " follow
me for a moment, I have news for you."
At this strange invitation the baron re¬
mained surprised and silent.
"Important news, colonel," repeated the
man with the big gloves.
This insistence determined Baron Vcethaiin.
In the present crisis of the province, and on
the mission he was on, no information was to
be disdained. " Go on," said he.
The little man walked in front of him, and
when they were outside the town he stopped:
"Colonel, would you like to be able to
exterminate all the rebels at a single blow ?"
The colonel laughed;
" That would not be a bad way of begin¬
ning the campaign.''
" Well! order all your soldiers to be placed
to-day in ambuscade in the gorges of Black
Post, two miles from this town; the bands
will camp there to-night. At the first shot you
hear open fire upon them. The victory will be
easy."
"Fellow, the advice is good, and I thank
you. But how do you know what you tell me ?"
" If you knew me, colonel, you would not ask
me how it could happen that I did not know."
" Who then are you ?"
The man stamped his foot.
142
HAN OF ICELAND
" I did not come here to tell you that."
" Do not fear. Whoever you are the service
you render me will be your safeguard.
Perhaps you are one of the rebels !"
" I have refused to be one."
" Then why conceal your name, since you
are a faithful subject of the king?"
" What matters it ?"
The colonel wished to get further informa¬
tion from this singular news-bearer.
"Tell me, is it true that these brigands are
commanded by the famous Han of Iceland?"
" Han of Iceland !" repeated the little man
in an extraordinary voice.
The colonel repeated his question. A burst
of laughter, which might have passed for a
roar, was the only reply he could get. He
asked several other questions about the num¬
ber of the rebels and their chiefs; the little
man interrupted him:
" Colonel of the Munckholm musketeers, I
have said all that I am going to say. Go into
ambush with all your regiment in the defiles
of Black Post, and you can crush all this mob
of men."
"You will not reveal to me who you are;
so you deprive yourself of the gratitude of
the king; but it is at least fair for Baron
Vcethaiin to show his gratitude for the service
you have rendered him."
HAN OF ICELAND
The colonel threw his purse at the feet of
the little man.
"Keep your gold, colonel," said he, "I
have no need of it; and," added he, showing
a large bag hung to his rope belt, "if you
must have pay to kill these men I have yet,
colonel, gold to give you in payment for their
blood."
Before the colonel had recovered from the
astonishment caused by the inexplicable
words of this mysterious being, he had disap¬
peared.
Baron Voethaiin returned slowly, asking
himself if he should follow the advice given
by the man. As he was entering his hotel,
he was given a letter sealed with the arms of
the grand chancellor. It was indeed a mes¬
sage from Count d'Ahlefeld, in which the
colonel found, with a surprise easy to con¬
ceive, the same news and the same counsel
which he had just been given, at the town gates
by the incomprehensible person with the straw
hat and the great gloves.
XXXIX.
A hundred banners were bent forward over
the heads of the valiant, and blood flowed
round like water, and death was held better
than flight. A Saxon bard had called it a feast
of the swords—a gathering of the eagles to the
prey—the clashing of bills upon shield and
helmet, the shouting of battle more joyful than
the clamor of a bridal.
, Sir Walter Scott—Ivanhoe.
We will not undertake to describe here the
horrible confusion which broke up the already
disordered columns of the rebels, when the
fatal volleys suddenly showed all the ragged
heights and dells bristling with unexpected
enemies. It would be difficult to discover
whether the loud shriek, formed of a thousand
cries, which rose from their thunderstruck
ranks, was a cry of despair, of terror, or of
rage. The terrible fire poured upon them
from all sides increased every moment; and,
before they were able to return a shot after
the fatal one of Kennybol's, they were sur¬
rounded by such a cloud of smoke that it was
144
HAN OF ICELAND
MS
almost impossible to make out any of the
musketeers, dragoons, or uhlans, who were
seen moving about, like devils in a furnace.
All the bands, spread out over a mile,
on a winding and tortuous path, bordered
on one side by a deep torrent and on the
other by a wall of rocks, which prevented all
attempts to double on themselves, resembled
a serpent cut in pieces, the living part
squirming in their gore, trying to re-unite
themselves.
When the first surprise was over, despair
seemed to animate, like a common spirit, all
these naturally wild and fearless men. Furious
at seeing themselves crushed without defense,
this crowd of brigands set up a roar as though
from a single body, a clamor which drowned
for a moment all the noise of their triumphant
enemies; and when they saw themselves with¬
out leaders, disordered and almost without
arms, they began, under a terrible fire, to
climb the rocks, hanging on by their teeth
and nails, over steep precipices, and swinging
their hammers and iron clubs, the soldiers, so
well armed, so well arranged and placed, who
had not yet lost a single man, could not help
an involuntary shudder of horror.
Several times some reached the summit,
sometimes by bridges of the dead, sometimes
by raising themselves on the shoulders of their
146
HAN OF ICELAND
comrades, sticking to the rocks like snails,
until they were face to face with their enemies;
but hardly had they time to cry: Liberty!
hardly time to show their black faces, con¬
vulsed with rage, than they were thrown into
the abyss, dragging with them their daring
companions who were hanging on to some
bushes or point of rock.
The efforts of these wretches to fly or to
defend themselves were in vain; all the exits
of the defile were closed, all accessible points
were bristling with soldiers. The most of the
unfortunate rebels died biting the sand of the
road, after having broken their cutlasses on a
granite rock; some folding their arms, and
sitting on the stones which bordered the road,
waited, silent and immovable, until a bullet
threw them into the torrent. Those among
whom Racket had distributed muskets, sent
some chance shots towards the caverns and
rocks from which the volleys poured. A
tumult of voices, among which could be heard
the calm commands of the officers, mingled
with the rattle of the discharges, whilst a
bloody vapor arose from the place of battle,
whilst the torrent, white with foam, passed
like an enemy between the two armies carry¬
ing off her prey of dead bodies.
But, in the first part of the action, or
rather the butchery, the mountaineers of Kole,
HAN OF ICELAND
HI
commanded by the brave and imprudent
Kennybol, had suffered the most. It is remem¬
bered that they formed the advance guard of
the rebel army, and that they were in the
pine woods at the end of the defile when
the action commenced. Hardly had the
blundering Kennybol loaded his musket than
the woods were suddenly full of enemies
who surrounded them with a circle of fire;
whilst above them was the entire Munck-
holm regiment which poured upon them
volley after volley of terrible musketry. In
this horrible crisis, Kennybol, in despair,
looked towards the mysterious giant, expecting
at least an evidence of superhuman power,
such as Han of Iceland was reputed to possess,
but he did not see the formidable demon sud¬
denly grow wings and fly above the combat¬
ants, pouring flames and thunderbolts upon
the musketeers, neither did he see him grow
to the height of the clouds and overturn a
mountain on the assailants, nor stamp his foot
upon the ground and thus open an abyss to
swallow up the battalions in ambush. This for¬
midable Han of Iceland recoiled just as he did at
the first attack of the musketeers, and came to
him with a troubled face, asking for a carbine,
because, said he in an ordinary voice, at such
a time his hatchet was as useless as an old
wife's distaff.
148
HAN OF ICELAND
Kennybol, still credulous, though some-
what astonished, gave him the musket, but
with such trepidation that it almost over¬
powered his sense of fear of the shots all
around. Still hoping for the prodigious,
he expected the musket handled by Han of
Iceland would become as large as a cannon,
or turn into a winged dragon, shooting
forth fire from its nose, eyes, and mouth.
Imagine the sportsman's surprise when he saw
the demon charge and fire his gun several
times with less skill than he could have done
himself. It was evidently useless to look for
miracles; he must have recourse to ordinary
means of help. His poor old comrade,
Stayper, lay dead at his feet covered with
wounds. The terrified mountaineers pressed
one against another, little thinking by thus
forming a mass they were a surer target for
their enemies. Kennybol at once ordered
them to disperse, to throw themselves into the
nearest thicket, to conceal themselves in the
brushwood, and return their enemies' fire.
The mountaineers were mostly fairly armed, for
they were all hunters, and they silently followed
their chiefs orders. In moments of danger
men often lose their heads, and they willingly
obey one who retains his presence of mind.
■ This wise measure was, however, far from
assuring victory or even safety. Yet some
HAN OF ICELAND
149
remained inactive, either leaning on their
muskets, or lying by the side of the wounded, to
meet death without firing a shot in self-defense.
It may seem strange that men accustomed to
hunt wild beasts should so soon lose courage,
but one thing is certain, courage in some
minds springs from habit, and the one who
boldly faces shot will often tremble at dark¬
ness or the verge of a precipice, while others,
who will attack a wild beast, or take an abyss
at a bound, will fly before a salvo of artillery.
It often happens that fearlessness is only
habitual, and that having ceased to fear death
in any form, one does not dread it.
Kennybol was surrounded by his dying
comrades, although himself but slightly
wounded in the left arm, while the diabolical
giant simply acted as a musketeer. All at
once there was evidently great confusion on
the heights among the victorious troops, fol¬
lowed by cries of distress and agony, mingled
with curses, certainly not caused by the
mountaineers, who could do but little damage.
Firing ceased, the smoke cleared sufficiently
to show that immense blocks were rapidly
falling in the midst of the soldiers, who fled
in all directions down the rocks.
At this unexpected help, Kennybol turned
his headj—^the giant was still with them.
The mountaineer was astonished, for he
HAN OF ICELAND
expected to find that the giant, Han of Ice¬
land, had taken flight over the rocks, and
sent these huge masses down on his enemies;
but the giant was still there. It could not be
the rebels, for no arms were visible, nor could
any shouts of victory be heard.
Meanwhile the fire from the plateau had
entirely ceased; the woods hid the remainder
of the battalion which rallied there. The
rattle of the musketry died away. Kennybol,
as chief, profited by this unhoped-for aid, he
gathered together his companions, and showed
them the heaps of dead caused by the fall of
the rocks, which continued at intervals. Then
the mountaineers answered the moans of their
enemies by shouts of victory; they formed
into a column, and, although slightly incon¬
venienced by the dying fire from the bushes,
they resolved, full of new courage, to yet win
their way out of the dismal defile.
The column thus formed was about to
charge; Kennybol had already given the
signal with his trumpet, amid shouts of
Liberty ! Liberty / No more tax ! when the
sound of drum and cornet, sounding the
charge was heard in front of them, when
the battalions, reinforced by fresh soldiers
appeared at a turn in the road, presenting a
front bristling with pikes and bayonets.
When they arrived in front of Kennybol's
HAN OF ICELAND
columns, they halted and he who seemed to
be the commander, advanced towards the
mountaineers, waving a little white flvig and
escorted by a trumpeter.
The unexpected appearance of thiw troop
did not disconcert Kennybol in the least.
There is a point in the feeling of d.inger,
where surprise and fear are impossible. At the
first sound of the drum and cornet the old fox
of Kole had stopped his companions. At the
moment when the battalion appeared, he or¬
dered all the carbines loaded and commanded
the mountaineers to stand two abreast so as to
present the least possible surface to the fire of
the enemy. He placed himself in front, with
the giant, with whom, in the heat of the fight,
he had become almost familiar, having noticed
that his eyes were not quite as blazing as the
furnace of a forge and that his supposed claws
were only long finger-nails.
When he saw the commander of the royal
musketeers advance towards him as though he
were going to surrender, and the firing sud¬
denly stop, he suspended his preparations for
defense.
Meanwhile the officer with the white flag
arrived in the middle of the space between
the two columns; he stopped, and the
trumpeter who accompanied him sounded the
call. Then the officer cried in a loud voice,
152
HAN OF ICELAND
which the mountaineers distinctly heard
despite the noise of the fight which was still
kept up behind them.
"In the name of the king! The king's
pardon is granted to those who throw down
their arms, and give up their leaders to the
sovereign justice of his majesty!"
The bearer of the flag of truce had hardly
pronounced these words when a shot was
heard from a neighboring coppice. The
officer staggered, stepped back waving his
flag and fell, crying: " Treason !"
No one knew who fired the fatal shot.
"Treason! Cowardice!" repeated the
battalion of musketeers with roars of rage.
And a horrible volley of musketry terrified
the mountaineers.
"Treason!" replied the mountaineers in
their turn, furious at seeing their brothers
fall at their sides. And a general firing
answered the unexpected attack of the royal
soldiers.
" Upon them ! Comrades! Death to the
cowards! Death!" cried the officers of the
musketeers.
"Death! Death!" repeated the moun¬
taineers, and the combatants bared their sabres
and the two columns sprang forward, meeting
almost on the body of the unfortunate officer,
with shouts and horrible noise of arms.
HAN OF ICELAND
153
The ranks mingled. Rebel chiefs, royal
officers, soldiers, mountaineers; all, pellmell,
striking, seizing, grasping each other, like two
troops of fierce tigers meeting in a desert.
The long pikes, the bayonets, and the hal¬
berds were useless; sabres and hatchets
glittered above the heads; and many com¬
batants, struggling in each other's grasp, could
not use any other arms than poniards or their
teeth.
An equal fury and indignation animated the
mountaineers and the musketeers; the same cry
of Treason! and Vengeance! rose from all.
The mfelee had got to the point where feroc¬
ity enters every heart, where one prefers the
death of an unknown enemy to his own life,
where one tramples upon the heads of the
dead and wounded; among the latter, one
sometimes revives enough to bite those who
trample him under foot.
It was at this moment that a little man,
who, some of the combatants, seeing him
at first through the smoke, in his wild beasts'
skins, took for a wild animal, threw himself
into their midst with horrible laughs and yells
of joy.
No one knew whence he came. His stone
hatchet fell with equal force on a rebel or a
soldier. If he made a choice, it was in more
freely crushing a Munckholm musketeer. All
HAN OF ICELAND
fled before him. He brandished his terrible
hatchet on all sides, scattering fragments of
flesh, severed limbs, and broken bones. He,
too, cried "Vengeance J" and added strange
words, among which the name of Gill often
occurred. To this formidable being the
slaughter appeared a holiday.
A mountaineer upon whom his murderous
glance fell ran and threw himself at the feet
of the giant in whom Kennybol had placed so
many shattered hopes, crying:
" Han of Iceland, save me!"
" Han of Iceland !" repeated the little man.
He advanced towards the giant.
"Are you Han of Iceland?" said he.
The giant by way of answer raised his iron
hatchet. The little man stepped back and
the weapon, in its descent, imbedded itself in
the skull of the very wretch who implored the
giant's aid.
" Ho ! ho ! By Ingulphus! I thought Han
of Iceland was more adept.''
"It is thus Han of Iceland saves those who
implore him !" said the giant.
"You are right."
The two formidable champions attacked
each other in rage. The iron hatchet and the
stone hatchet met; they clashed violently and
the two weapons broke into a thousand
pieces.
HAN OF ICELAND
155
Quicker than thought, the little man seized
a heavy wooden club, left on the earth by one
of the dying, and, avoiding the giant, who
tried to seize him in his arms, he aimed a ter¬
rible two-handed blow and struck his colossal
adversary a furious blow on the forehead.
The giant gave a muffled cry and fell.
The triumphant little man kicked the body
aside, overflowing with joy.
"You took a name much too heavy for
you," said he.
And, brandishing his victorious club, he
went to seek other victims.
The giant was not dead. The violence of
the blow had stunned him, and he was almost
lifeless. He was beginning to recover and to
make some feeble movements when he was
noticed by a musketeer, who threw himself
upon him, crying:
" Han of Iceland is captured ! Victory !"
" Han of Iceland is captured !" repeated
all voices in accents of triumph or distress.
The little man had disappeared.
The mountaineers had already been out¬
numbered for some time; for the Munckholm
musketeers had been reinforced by the detach¬
ments of dismounted uhlans and dragoons
who had arrived from the interior of the
gorges where the surrender of the principal
chiefs had stopped the carnage. Brave
HAN OF ICELAND
Kennybol, wounded in the beginning of the
action, had been taken prisoner. The cap¬
ture of Han of Iceland destroyed the remain¬
ing courage of the mountaineers. They
threw down their arms.
When the first gleam of day lighted up the
summits of the high glaciers, still half sub¬
merged in shadow, there remained in the
defiles of Black Post only mournful repose,
nothing but a frightful silence, sometimes
broken by groans and the low moaning of the
morning breeze. Black clouds of ravens
flew towards the fatal gorge from all parts of
the compass; and some poor shepherds, hav¬
ing passed with their flocks, returned horror-
stricken to their huts vowing that they had
seen a beast with a human face, drinking
blood, and seated on a heap of bodies in the
defile of the Black Post.
XL.
Let those who wish suffer under these secret
fires.
Brant6me.
"Daughter, open the window; the glass is
very dull. I would like to see daylight for a
little while."
"See daylight, father? Night is rapidly
approaching."
" There are still some rays of the sun above
the hills about the gulf. I need to breathe the
free air through the bars of my cell.—The
sky is so clear.''
" Father, a storm is gathering behind the
horizon."
"A storm, Ethel! Where do you see
it?"
"It is because the sky is so clear, father,
that I expect a storm."
The old man looked at the young girl in
surprise.
"If I had thought of that in my youth I
would not have been here."
157
158 HAN OF ICELAND
Then he added in a less bitter tone:
" What you say is right, but is beyond your
years. I do not understand how your youth
knows what experience 'eaches my old age."
Ethel kissed his eyes, as though troubled by
this grave and simple reflection. He clasped
her hands sadly, and a deep sigh rose from
her breast.
" My daughter," said the old captive, " for
some days you have been as pale as though
life had never warmed the blood in your
veins. For several mornings you have greeted
me with eyelids red and swollen, and eyes
heavy with weeping. Several days, Ethel,
have passed in silence, without your voice
trying to make me forget the sombre thoughts
of my fate. You are sadder than I am, whilst
you have not, like me, the sadness of a wasted
life upon your mind. Affliction surrounds
your life but cannot enter your heart. The
morning clouds soon disperse. You are at
the period of life when one can live in dreams
of the future independent of the present,
whatever it be. What is the matter, then, my
daughter? Thanks to this monotonous cap¬
tivity you are sheltered from unforeseen mis¬
fortunes. What fault have you committed?
I cannot believe that it is for me you grieve;
you should have become accustomed to my
irredeemable misfortune. Hope, indeed, is
HAN OF ICELAND
*59
no longer in my path; but that is no reason
why I should read despair in your eyes."
In speaking thus the usually severe voice of
the prisoner had become almost paternal.
Ethel, mute, remained standing before him.
Suddenly, with an almost convulsive move¬
ment, she threw herself on the stone at his feet
and hid her face in her hands, as though to hide
her tears and smother the sobs which burst
from her breast.
Deep sorrow filled the young girl's heart.
What had she done to the fatal stranger that she
had revealed the secret which destroyed all her
life ? Alas ! Since the entire name of her
Ordener was made known to her, the poor
child had been unable to sleep or have any
peace of mind. At night she had no other
solace than that of being able to weep freely.
So it had come to this! He was not for her,
she to whom he belonged by all right, by all
sorrow, and by all prayers; he who she believed
she was to wed. For the very evening Ordener
pressed her in his arms seemed now but a
dream, which had repeated itself each night
since he left. It was then a guilty feeling to
think of the absent one. Her Ordener was
afhanced to another. What words can depict
all she endured, tortured with jealousy, as she
lay tossing to and fro during the long hours
of the night, picturing her Ordener, perhaps
i6o
HAN OF ICELAND
in the arms of another, wealthy, noble, and
more beautiful than herself. " How could I
fancy," murmured she, "that he would risk
death for my sake ? Ordener, a great lord,
the viceroy's son; I nothing but a poor
prisoner, the despised daughter of an outlaw.
He has gone, he is free, and has, no doubt,
left me, to wed his beautiful betrothed, the
daughter of a chancellor, a minister, a proud
count! So he deceived me! my Ordener!
Oh, God! who could believe that that voice
could deceive?"
The wretched Ethel wept unceasingly.
Ordener was ever before her eyes; he was her
god, although going to the altar with that smile
for another which had been her great happiness.
The poor girl had made every effort to con¬
ceal her grief from her father. Tears that are
shed are far less bitter than those which are
smothered. It was some days before the old
man perceived the change in his daughter,
and his gentle questioning had caused her
heart to overflow with grief.
The father looked at his weeping daughter
for some time, with a bitter smile, and shook
his head.
"Ethel," said he at last, "you who never
loved a man, why do you weep ?''
He had hardly finished when the noble
and gentle creature rose. She had by some
HAN OF ICELAND l6l
unknown powers, stopped the tears in her eyes,
which she wiped with her sash.
"Father," said she firmly, "my lord and
father, pardon me; it was a moment of weak¬
ness."
Then she looked up at him with a forced
smile. She went to the end of the room to
look for the Edda and came and seated herself
near her taciturn father and opened the book
at hazard. Then, calming her emotion, she
began to read; but her reading was unheard,
either by herself or by the old man.
The latter stopped her with a gesture.
"Enough, my daughter, enough."
She closed the book.
"Ethel," added Schumacher, "do you still
sometimes think of Ordener?"
The girl interrupted him, trembling.
"Yes," continued he, "of Ordener, who
went . . ."
" My lord and father," interrupted Ethel,
" why worry ourselves about him ? I think, as
you do, that he has gone never to return."
" Never to return, my daughter ! I could
not have said that. Some presentiment tells
me, on the contrary, that he will come back."
"Such was not your opinion, my noble
father, when you spoke so doubtingly of the
young man."
" Did I speak doubtingly ?"
I62
HAN OF ICELAND
" Yes, father, and I am quite of your
opiniqn ; I think that he deceived us."
" Deceived us, my daughter! If I had
judged him so, I acted like all men who con¬
demn without proof. I received from Ordener
nothing but proofs of devotion."
" And do you know, my venerable father,
that his cordial words did not hide perfidious
thoughts ?''
" Ordinarily, men do not court those in
misfortune and disgrace. If Ordener was not
attached to me he would not then have come
to my prison without an object."
" And are you sure," answered Ethel in a
weak voice, " that in coming he did not have
an object?"
"And what could it be?" asked the old
man briskly.
It was too much of an effort for her to
continue to accuse the well-beloved Ordener,
whom she formerly defended against her
father.
"I am no longer Count Griffenfeld," con¬
tinued he. " I am no longer grand chancellor
of Denmark and Norway, the favored dis-
pensator of royal pardons, the all-powerful
minister. I am a miserable prisoner of State,
an outlaw, a pestiferous politician. It needs
courage to speak of me without execration
among all the men who I have loaded with
HAN OF ICELAND
163
honors and riches; it is devotion to cross the
threshold of my cell, if one is not a jailer or a
headsman; it is a heroism, my daughter, not to
cross one's self when calling me friend. No, I
will not be ungrateful like all the human race.
This young man has merited my gratitude, if
only for showing me a cheerful face and let¬
ting me hear a consolatory voice."
Ethel hardly listened to these words, which
would have ravished her a few days sooner,
when Ordener was still in her heart, her
Ordener. The old man, after having paused
a moment, continued in a solemn voice :
"Listen to me, my daughter, for I am
going to speak gravely. I feel myself dying
slowly; life leaves me little by little; yes,
my daughter, my end is approaching."
Ethel interrupted him by a smothered moan.
" O God, father, do not speak so ! For
pity's sake, spare your poor daughter ! Alas !
are you also going to abandon her? What
will become of her, alone in the world, with¬
out your protection ?"
"An outlaw's protection!" replied her
father, shaking his head. " That is what I
have been thinking about. Your future hap¬
piness concerns me far more than my past
misfortunes. Listen then, and do not inter¬
rupt me. Ordener does not deserve to be
judged so severely. Until now I had no idea
*
164
HAN OF ICELAND
you held him in such aversion. He looks
both frank and noble. That proves nothing.
But he is not without some good points. Yet
he would not be a man if he were not
steeped in every vice and every crime. There
is never smoke without fire !''
The old man paused again, and, fixing his
eyes upon his daughter, he added:
"Feeling the near approach of death, I
have thought much about him and you, Ethel.
Should he return, as I fully hope may be the
case, I will make him your protector and your
husband."
Ethel trembled and turned pale. It was at the
very time her dream of happiness had vanished
forever that her father tried to compass its
fulfilment. The bitter thought recurred to
her, "It might have been." The girl could
not speak, lest the burning tears should fall.
The father waited.
"What!" said she at last in a strained
voice, " you have chosen a husband for me,
my lord and father, without knowing his
family, his name ?''
"I have not chosen, my daughter, I am
choosing."
His voice was almost imperious: Ethel
sighed.
"... I do select him for you. What do I
care about his birth ? I do not want to know
HAN OF ICELAND
anything of his family, since I am acquainted
with himself. Think well of this; it is the
only anchor on which you may hope to trust.
Fortunately he has not the same dislike toward
you that you evince toward him."
The poor girl raised her eyes to heaven.
"Hear me, Ethel; I repeat it, what does
his birth matter ? He is doubtless of obscure
rank, for those born in prisons are not
accustomed to frequenting prisons. Yes, and
do not show proud regrets, my daughter; do
not forget that Ethel Schumacher is no longer
Princess Wollin and Countess of Tongsberg;
you have descended to the point from which
your father rose. Be then happy if this man
accepts your hand, no matter what his family
may be. If of humble birth, so much the
better; you will then at least be protected
from the troubles which have beset your
father's life. By changing your name you
will be free from envy and hatred; your very
existence will soon be ignored, and your life
will end far better than it has commenced."
Ethel had fallen on her knees before the
prisoner.
" O father 1 spare me!"
He opened his eyes in surprise.
" What do you mean, child ?"
" In the name of Heaven, do not picture
this happiness, it is not for me 1"
i66
HAN OF ICELAND
"Ethel," said the old man, severely, "do
not trifle with fate. I refused the hand of a
royal princess—do you hear me ?—a princess
of Holstein-Augustenburg! My pride has
been cruelly punished. You disdain a loyal-
hearted man because he is of obscure origin.
Tremble lest your chastisement should not be
as heavy as mine."
"Would to Heaven," murmured Ethel,
" that this man were obscure and loyal!"
The old man rose and paced the apart¬
ment much agitated.
" My daughter," said he, "it is your poor
father who begs you and commands you. Do
not, at death, leave him anxious for your future;
promise to accept this stranger for a husband."
" I will obey you always, father, but do not
hope for his return."
" I have weighed the chances, and I think,
considering the accent with which Ordener
pronounced your name ..."
"That he loves me?" interrupted Ethel,
bitterly; "oh! no, I think not."
The father continued coldly;
" I do not know, to use your girlish expres¬
sion, whether he loves you; but I know he
will return."
"Abandon that idea, noble father. Besides,
perhaps you would not wish him for your son-
in-law if you knew him."
HAN OF ICELAND
167
" Ethel, he will be, whatever his name and
tank."
"Well!" continued she, "if this young
man, in whom you have seen a consoler, in
whom you see a protector for yom: daughter,
my lord and father, was the son of one of
your mortal enemies, of the viceroy of Nor¬
way, of Count Guldenlew?"
Schumacher sprang up.
" Wliat do you say, good God! Ordener!
This Ordener!—It is impossible I . . . "
The vindictive expression of hate which
gleamed in the dull eyes of the old man froze
Ethel's trembling heart, who vainly regretted
her imprudent speech.
The blow was struck. Schumacher remained
for some moments immobile and with arms
crossed; all his body trembled as though he
had been on the rack, his burning eyeballs
stood out in their sockets, and his gaze, fixed
on the flagstones, seemed to be trying to
pierce them. At last some words fell from his
blue lips, pronounced in a feeble voice, as
though he were dreaming.
" Ordener 1 Yes, that is it, Ordener Gulden-
lew I—Good. Come 1 Schumacher, old fool,
open your arms to him, this loyal young man
who comes to poniard you."
Suddenly he stamped his foot, and his voice
thundered:
HAK OF ICELAND
" So they have sent all their infamous race
to insult me in my cell! I have already seen
one d'Ahlefeld; I have almost smiled on a
Guldenlew! The monsters! This Ordener
owns the same spirit and the same name!
Woe to me! Woe to him!"
He fell exhausted into the arm-chair, and
whilst his breast swelled with long sighs, poor
Ethel, shuddering with fright, wept at his
feet.
" Do not cry, my girl," said he in a sinister
voice, " come, oh! come to my heart."
And he pressed her in his arms.
Ethel did not know how to take this caress
in a moment of rage, until he continued:
" At least, girl, you have been more far-
sighted than your old father. You have not
been deceived by the venomous serpent with
the soft eyes. Come, let me thank you for
the hatred you have shown this execrable
Ordener."
Ethel shuddered at praise—alas! so little
deserved.
"My lord and father," said she, "pray
calm yourself."
" Promise me," said Schumacher, vehe¬
mently, " that you will ever preserve this same
feeling toward that Ordener Guldenlew.
Swear to me."
" God forbids swearing, father."
HAN OF ICEIAND
169
" Swear to it, girl," repeated Schumacker,
"that you will always preserve the same
feeling toward that Ordener Guldenlew."
Ethel found no difficulty in thus replying:
"Always."
" Well said, my child. I cannot bequeath
you the riches and honors of which they have
deprived me, but I can transmit my hatred
for them to you. Listen! They deprived
me of my rank and glory, they dragged me to
the scaffold in irons, loading me with every
infamy, and torturing me with every pain.
The wretches owed their power to me, and
turned it against me. May Heaven hear me.
Curse them, and all their offspring !"
He paused a moment, then stooped to
embrace the poor girl, who was terrified at his
imprecations.
" But tell me, my Ethel, my only hope and
pride, how was your instinct keener than
mine? How did you discover that this
traitor bore the hated name, which is more
bitter than gall to my heart ? How did you
learn this secret?"
She was about to answer, when the door
was thrown open.
A man clothed in black entered, carrying
a black stick, and wearing a burnished steel
chain around his neck. He was surrounded
by halberdiers, also in black.
170
HAN OF ICELAND
"What do you want with me?" said the
captive, sharply.
The man, without replying, unrolled a long
parchment, from which hung a green seal
attached by silk. He read in a loud voice:
"In the name of his majesty, our merciful
lord and sovereign, Christian, king.
"It is written that Schumacher, State
prisoner in the royal fortress of Munckholm,
and his daughter are to follow the bearer of
this said order."
Schumacher repeated his question:
" What do you want with me ?"
The man in black impassibly prepared him¬
self to read the order over again.
" That is sufficient," said the old man.
Then, rising, he signed to the astonished
and terrified Ethel to follow under this dismal
escort.
XLI.
A funereal knock is heard, an abject servant
of justice has just arrived at his door, and
informs him he is wanted.
Joseph de Maistre.
The shades of night had fallen, the cold
wind howled around the Accursed Tower, and
the very doors of the ruin of Vygla trembled
on their hinges.
The wild inhabitants of the tower, the exe¬
cutioner and his family, were around a fire on
the first floor of the tower. The flames shed
a glare on their sombre faces and their scarlet
clothes. There was a savage ferocity about
the children's faces, resembling their father's
laugh, combined with their mother's haggard
expression. Their eyes and those of Bechlie
were turned toward Orugix, whose fatigued
and dusty appearance denoted that he had
just arrived from a great distance.
" Wife, listen, children, listen. It is not
to bring bad news that I have not been absent
two entire days. If before another month
171
172
HAN OF ICELAND
has passed I am not the royal executioner,
may I never tie a slip-knot or wield an axe.
Rejoice, my little cubs; your father will, per¬
haps, leave you as a heritage the scaffold of
Copenhagen itself."
"Nychol," said Bechlie, "what has hap¬
pened?"
"And you, my old Bohemian," replied
Nychol, with his deep laugh, "rejoice also.
You can soon buy some blue beads to orna¬
ment your throat, somewhat like a strangled
swan's. Our engagement will soon cease j but
when you see me the executioner in chief of
both kingdoms, you will not refuse to break
another pig with me."
"What has happened, father?" said the
children. The elder was playing with a
wooden horse covered with blood, the younger
amusing himself with plucking a live bird that
he had taken from its mother's nest.
" What is it, my children ? Kill that bird,
Hasper; it squeaks like an old saw. Besides,
you must not be cruel. Kill it. Very little
has occurred. Dame Bechlie, except that in
eight days or so, ex-Chancellor Schumacher,
now a prisoner at Munckholm, who was within
my reach at Copenhagen, and the famous
brigand of Iceland, Han of Klipstadur, will
pass through my hands, perhaps on the same
day."
HAN OF ICELAND
173
The wandering look of the red woman
became full of astonishment and curiosity.
" Schumacher! Han of Iceland ! What is
this, Nychol?"
" Yesterday morning, on my way to Skon-
gen, I met a whole regiment of Munckholm
musketeers, who were returning victoriously
to Drontheim. I questioned one of the
soldiers, who deigned to answer me, because
he doubtless did not know the meaning of my
red jacket and red cart. He informed me
that the insurgents, hemmed in near Black
Pillar, had been cut to pieces by the musket¬
eers. You must know, Bechlie, the Bohemian,
that these rebels had arisen for the sake of
Schumacker, and were commanded by Han
of Iceland. This constitutes a criminal charge
against Han of Iceland, and high treason
against Schumacker, which will lead these
honorable gentlemen either to the block or
the gibbet. For each of these great execu¬
tions I cannot receive less than fifteen golden
ducats. Besides having the greatest honor in
the two kingdoms conferred on me, I shall
have other privileges ..."
" Is it possible," interrupted Bechlie, " that
Han of Iceland has been captured?"
" Don't interrupt your lord and master,
daughter of perdition," said the headsman.
' Yes j this famous Han of Iceland has been
174
HAN OF ICELAND
taken prisoner, together with his lieutenants,
some other brigand chiefs. They will bring
me in twelve crowns a head, besides the sale
of their bodies."
The woman and the children approached
Orugix.
" What! did you see Han, father ?" asked
the children.
" Be quiet, children. You each cry like a
rascal who declares he is innocent. Yes, I
saw him. He is a giant, and he was walking
with his arms crossed behind him, bound in
chains. His forehead was bandaged, being
wounded in the head; but I will soon cure
him of that wound."
After making a horrible sign, the execu¬
tioner continued :
" He was followed by four of his com¬
panions, likewise prisoners. They were all to
be tried at Drontheim; likewise the ex-Grand
Chancellor Schumacher. There will be a
special court, the high syndic, over which the
present grand chancellor will preside."
" Father, what were the other prisonen
like?"
" The first two were old men—one a miner,
the other a mountaineer. Both seemed dis¬
consolate. The third was a young miner, who
walked firmly along, whistling. The other—
you remember, my Bechlie, the travelers who
HAN OF ICELAND
175
sought shelter here on the night of the storm,
about ten days ago."
"As satan remembers the day of his fall,"
said the woman.
" Did you remark a young man who was
with that old idiot of a doctor in a big wig ?
The young traveler who wore a large green
cloak and a hat with a black feather?"
" I can see him now before me, when he
said: ' Woman, we have gold !' "
" Well, well, old woman, may I never
strangle more grouse if the fourth prisoner
were not the same young man. I did not see
his face, certainly, as it was concealed by his
plume, his hair, and his cloak; besides which,
he walked with his head bent down. But the
clothes, the boots, the same manner—there, I
will swallow the stone gibbet of Skongen at a
mouthful if that is not the same man. What
do you say to that, Bechlie ? Would it not be
droll, if after helping this stranger to sustain
life I should assist him in shortening it, and
that I should prove my dexterity to him after
he had enjoyed my hospitality?"
The executioner, laughing loudly for some
time, then continued:
" Come, let us rejoice and drink. Yes,
Bechlie, give me some of that beer, which
rasps the throat as though it were made of
files. Let us drink to my future advancement.
176
HAN OF ICELAND
Honors and health to my lord Nychol Orugix,
royal executioner in perspective. I will own
to you, old sinner, that I had much trouble in
getting to Noes, in order that I might quietly
hang some ignoble stealer of cabbages and
endive; but thirty-two pieces were not to be
despised, and, after all, I shall not lower
myself by executing merely thieves and
scamps of that kind when once I have
beheaded the noble count, ex-grand chancel¬
lor, and the famous d^on of Iceland. So I
resigned myself to my fate, and dispatched
the poor wretch at Noes, while awaiting my
diploma as master royal of lofty works.
Here," added he, drawing his leather purse
from his knapsack, " are the thirty-two pieces
that I have brought you."
At this moment a horn gave three blasts
outside the tower.
" Wife!" cried Orugix, rising, " those are
the high syndic's archers."
So speaking he hastened down.
He immediately returned with a large docu¬
ment, of which he had broken the seal.
" There," said he to the woman, "just read
what the high syndic says—^you who could
decipher satan's conjuring box. Perhaps it
is my promotion. As the court will be pre¬
sided over by a grand chancellor, and the
accused was a grand chancellor, none but a
HAN OF ICELAND
177
royal executioner should carry out the
sentence."
The woman took it, and after looking well
over the parchment, read the following words
aloud, while the children stared at her in stupid
wonderment:
" In the name of the High Syndic of the
Drontheimhus! It is ordered that Nychol
Orugix, executioner of the province, is to
leave at once for Drontheim, taking with him
his axe of honor, his block and black
hangings."
"Is that all?" asked the executioner, dis¬
contentedly.
"Yes, that is all," replied Bechlie.
" Executioner of the province !" muttered
Orugix, between his teeth.
And he cast angry looks at the court parch¬
ment.
" Well," said he at last, " I must go. Yet
I am ordered to take the axe of honor, and the
black hangings. Mind, Bechlie, you see that
my axe is not rusted, and that the drapery is
not marked. Besides, I must not be dis¬
couraged. Perhaps I shall owe my advance¬
ment to this fine execution. Well, so much
the worse for those condemned; they will not
have the satisfaction of being put to death by
a royal executioner."
XLII.
Elvire.—What has become of poor Sancho ? He no
longer appears in the town.
Nuno.—Sancho has been wise enough to put himself
in hiding.
Lope de Vega—Le Meiileur alcade est le Roi.
Count d'Ahlefeld, wearing an ample satin
gown trimmed with ermine, with his judge's
wig covering both head and shoulders, wear¬
ing several stars and decorations, among
which was the collar of royal orders of the
Elephant and the Dannebrog, in fact, in full
robes as Grand Chancellor of Denmark and
Norway, was walking about Countess d'Ahle-
feld's room with a preoccupied air.
*' Ah, it is nine o'clock. The court will
soon be sitting. I must not keep them wait¬
ing, for the sentence must be passed this
night, so that the execution may take place
to-morrow morning, at the latest. The high
syndic assured me that the headsman would
be here before dawn. Elphdge, have you
ordered the barge to be in readiness to con¬
vey me to Munckholm?"
178
Han of iceland
179
" My lord, it has been here at least half an
hour," answered the countess, rising from her
arm-chair.
"And is my litter at the door?"
"Yes, my lord."
" I must go—you say, Elph^ge, there is a
love affair going on between Ordener Gulden-
lew and Schumacher's daughter?"
"They are deeply in love, I can assure
you," answered the countess, with rage and
contempt.
" Who could have imagined it? Yet I had
my doubts."
"And I also," said the countess; "this is
some of that cursed Levin's tricks !"
"That old rascal of a Mecklenburger!"
muttered the chancellor. "Yes, I will
certainly recommend him to Arensdorf. If I
could but compass his disgrace! Listen,
Elphdge, an idea has struck me."
"What is it?"
" You know there are six prisoners at
Munckholm waiting for judgment. Schu¬
macher, I trust, by this time to-morrow will
cease troubling us. That huge mountaineer,
our false Han of Iceland, has sworn to keep
up the deception to the last, fully convinced
that Musdcemon, from whom he has received
heavy sums of money, will help him to escape.
That Musdoemon's ideas are really diabolical.
i8o
HAN OF ICELAND
Three other prisoners are rebel chiefs. The
last of the number joined the meeting at
Apsyl-Corh, no one knows how. Owing to
Musdoemon's precautions, he also has fallen
into our hands. Musdoemon thinks he is
Levin's spy. He asked for the general
immediately on his arrival, and appeared
much dismayed on hearing of the Mecklen-
burger's absence. This young man refused to
answer any of Musdoemon's questions."
" My dear lord, why did you not question
him yourself?" inquired the countess.
" Really, Elphdge, how could I do so, with
all the business I have on hand ? I left it to
Musdoemon, who is equally interested with
myself. Besides, this man is of no import¬
ance—only some poor vagabond who will serve
our purpose by representing him as Levin de
Knud's agent. He was taken when in the midst
of the rebels. That alone will prove there is
a connivance between the Mecklenburger and
Schumacher—a fact which will compass this
cursed Levin's disgrace, even should an in¬
dictment against him be impossible."
" You are right, my lord."
The countess reflected a moment:
"But Baron Thorwick's fatal passion for
Ethel Schumacher ?"
The chancellor smoothed his brow; then
suddenly he shrugged his shoulders:
HAN OF ICELAND
" Listen, Elph^ge. Neither you nor I are
novices in this world's ways. When Schu-
macker has for the second time been con¬
victed of high treason, when this infamy has
ended in his death on the scaffold, when his
daughter is thus branded with her father's
disgrace, and sunk to the lowest grades of
society, do you believe Ordener Guldenlew
will remember this childish fancy that you
term passion, from hearing a young girl's
foolish words, that he will hesitate for one
moment between the dishonored daughter of a
wretched criminal and the noble daughter of a
mighty chancellor ? We must judge men by
ourselves, my dear; where have you ever seen
a human heart act thus?"
" I trust you are right. I made a request to
the syndic—do not neglect to have it ratified—
that Schumacher's daughter should be present
at her father's trial, and be placed near me.
I am anxious to study this creature."
" All is precious that can throw any light
on this affair," said the chancellor, phlegmati-
cally. " Does any one know where Ordener
is now?"
" No one knows. He is a worthy pupil of
old Levin—just such another knight-errant. I
think he is at Ward-Hus."
" Well, well. Our Ulrica will settle that.
I forgot the court was waiting for me."
HAN OF ICELAND
"One word more, my lord. I spoke to
you yesterday, but you were so preoccupied
that I could get no reply. Where is my
Frederick ?"
"Frederick?" said the count, covering his
face with his hand.
" Yes; answer me—my Frederick! His
regiment has returned to Drontheim without
him. Swear to ihe that Frederick was not in
that horrible defile of Black Pillar. Why at
the mention of Frederick's name has your face
so changed ? I am terribly anxious about him.''
The chancellor, recovering himself: "El-
ph6ge, calm yourself. I vow he was not at the
Black Pillar. Besides, the lists of killed and
wounded have been published."
"Yes; I now feel reassured," replied the
countess. " Only two officers were killed—
Captain Lory and young Baron Randmer, who
was my poor Frederick's companion in all his
follies at the Copenhagen balls. Oh, I read
the list most carefully, I assure you. Tell me,
my lord, is my son then still at Walhstrom?"
"Yes, he is there," answered the count.
"Well, then, dear," said the mother,
tenderly, " I have one favor to ask—^will you
see that my Frederick soon returns from that
awful country?"
The chancellor, with difficulty disengaging
himself from her arms: "Madame," said he,
HAN OF ICELAND
" the court is waiting for me. Adieu. What
you require does not depend on me."
And he left her abruptly.
The countess remained gloomy and thought¬
ful.
"It does not depend on him!" she ex¬
claimed, softly. " One word from him would
give me back my son. I have always thought
so, that man is truly wicked."
XLIII.
Is it thus that a man of my importance is
treated ? Is it thus that we neglect the respect
due to justice 7
Calderon—Louis Perez de Galice.
On leaving the dungeon of the Lion of
Sleswig, the guards separated the trembling
Ethel from her father, and led her through
dark passages altogether unknown to her,
until they came to a gloomy cell, which she
entered, and the door was closed upon her.
On the opposite side was a large open grating,
through which the light from the torches
gleamed on a woman veiled and dressed in
black, who was seated on a bench in front of
the opening, and making signs to Ethel to
take a seat beside her. Ethel, thunderstruck,
obeyed in silence.
She gazed through the open grill upon the
most solemn and imposing scene before her.
At the end of a hall, draped in black, and
faintly lighted by means of brass lamps sus¬
pended from the ceiling, was a table, shaped
184
HAN OF ICELAND
like a horseshoe, around which seven judges
in black gowns were seated. The one in the
centre occupied a raised seat, and was decorated
with diamond collars and glittering gold stars.
The judge at the right of the centre wore a white
scarf and ermine cloak—his badge of office as
high syndic of the province. On a platform,
over which a dais was spread, to the right
of the bench, sat an old man in black pontif¬
ical vestments. To the left was a table
covered with papers, behind which stood a
short man, with an enormous wig, who was
enveloped in the folds of a long black gown.
Facing the judges was a wooden bench,
surrounded by halberdiers bearing torches, the
light of which was reflected by a forest of
pikes and muskets on a crowd of spectators,
pressing against the iron grill which separated
them from the court.
All this to Ethel seemed but a dream;
whilst she was far from being indifferent to
the result. Some inward voice warned her
that a crisis in her life was at hand. She was
a prey to different feelings—either to know at
once the reason of her interest in this scene,
or not to know it at all. For some days she
had had the idea that Ordener was lost to her
forever; so what had life to offer ? She sought
only to know the end of fate. Feeling that
the decisive moment had now arrived, she
HAN OF ICELAND
dwelt on the spectacle before her less with
repugnance than with a sort of feverish but
mournful joy.
The president arose, proclaiming, in the
name of the king, that the court of justice was
open.
She heard a little man in black, to the left
of the bench, read in a low and rapid voice
a long discourse, wherein her father's name
was mingled with the words conspiracy, revolt
of the miners and high treason. Then she
remembered the strange woman's fatal words
in the tower garden, telling her of the accusa¬
tion which threatened her father. Ethel
shuddered on hearing the man in black wind
up his discourse with the word death, forcibly
pronounced.
Terrified, she turned toward the woman,
whom she instinctively feared.
" Where are we ? what is the meaning of
all this?" she timidly inquired.
A gesture from her mysterious companion
enjoined her to silence and attention. She
turned her attention to the court.
The venerable man in episcopal vestments
had just risen, and Ethel recoiled at these
words, so distinctly pronounced :
" In the name of almighty and merci¬
ful God, I, Pamphile-Eleuthere, bishop of
the loyal town of Drontheim, in the royal
HAN OF ICELAND
187
province of the Drontheimhus, bow before
this honored court which judges in the name
of the king, our lord next to the God.
"And I say, seeing that the prisoners now
before this court are men and Christians, hav¬
ing no counsel, it is my intention, honored
judges, to lend them all the assistance in my
power in the cruel position in which it is God's
will to place them.
" Praying the Almighty to give strength to
our weakness and light to our blindness.
" Thus it is that I, bishop of this royal dio¬
cese, bow to this honored and judicial court."
After having thus spoken, the bishop left
his episcopal throne, and seated himself on
the prisoners' wooden bench, amid the ap¬
plause of the people.
The president arose, and said in a harsh
tone:
" Halberdiers, make silence! My lord
bishop, in the name of the prisoners, the
court begs to thank your reverence. People
of the Drontheimhus, listen. The judgment
will be given without appeal in this royal high
court of justice. Archers, bring in the
prisoners."
There was a dead silence throughout. Only
all present moved their heads about in expect¬
ation, like the heavy waves of a stormy sea
when thunder is at hand.
HAN OF ICELAND
Soon Ethel could hear a dull sound of some
extraordinary movement taking place in the
passages beneath her. The audience trembled
with impatience and curiosity. The steps
came nearer; halberds and muskets glittered;
and then six men, in chains, bareheaded, and
surrounded by guards, were brought into the
middle of the court. Ethel saw but one, an
old gray-bearded man in a black simarre—
her father.
She fell forward against the stone partition
before which she was seated; everything swam
before her eyes; and it seemed that she could
hear her very heart beating. She feebly mur¬
mured:
" Oh, God! help me !"
The veiled woman leaned towards her and
made her inhale some salts, to arouse her from
her lethargy.
" Noble lady," were her first words, " pray
speak to me, that I may know I am not the
sport of hellish phantoms."
The stranger was deaf to her entreaties, and
turned silently toward the court. And poor
Ethel, now feeling slightly better, could but
imitate her reserve.
The president had risen, and had said in
slow and solemn tones:
" Prisoners, you are brought before us to
judge whether you are guilty of high treason,
HAN OF ICELAND
189
conspiracy, and in bearing arms against our
noble sovereign. Consider the matter well, for an
accusation of leze-majesty is made against you."
At this moment the light fell on one of the
prisoners, who, with head bent down, endeav¬
ored to conceal his face beneath his long,
curling hair. Ethel felt a cold shudder run
through her frame; she fancied she recognized
. . . But no, it could only be some illusion.
The hall was so faintly lighted that men them¬
selves looked only like shadows; the large
crucifix of polished ebony over the president's
chair was scarcely discernible.
Yet Ethel could see from the distance that
this young man's cloak was green, his hair
brown, and the faint glimpse of his features
made her fancy . . . But no, it was not, it
could not be ! It was a horrible illusion.
The prisoners were all seated on a bench
where the bishop had sat down. Schumacher
was at one end. He was separated from the
young man with the brown hair by his four
companions in misfortune, among whom was
a kind of giant, who, like his three neighbors,
was roughly clad. The bishop was seated at
the other end of the bench.
Ethel saw the president turn toward her
father.
"Old man," said he, harshly, "what is
your name, and who are you?"
HAN OF ICELAND
The old man raised his venerable head.
" Formerly," he firmly replied, looking at
the president, " I was called Count of Griffen-
feld and of Tongsberg; Prince of Wollin;
Prince of the Holy Empire; Knight, of the
Royal Order of the Elephant; Knight of
the Royal Order of Dannebrog; Knight of
the Golden Fleece of Germany; Knight of the
Garter of England; Prime Minister; Inspec¬
tor-General of the Universities; Grand Chan¬
cellor of Denmark; and ..."
The president interrupted him.
"Accused, you were not asked what your
name was, nor what you were, but you are
requested to say what you are called, and
what you are."
" Well, then," quickly replied the old man,
" I am called John Schumacher, aged sixty-
nine, and I am nothing more than your old
benefactor. Chancellor d'Ahlefeld."
The president appeared thunderstruck.
"I recognized you, my lord count," added
the ex-grand chancellor; "and as you did
not appear to be equally mindful of me, I
have taken the liberty of recalling to your
grace that we are old acquaintances."
"Schumacher," exclaimed the president,
in a tone of concentrated anger, "you are
trespassing on the court's time."
The old captive again interrupted:
HAN OF ICELAND
191
"We have changed places, noble chancel¬
lor. Formerly it was I who simply called
you d'Ahle/eld, and you addressed me as
my lord count J'^
"Accused, you are only damaging your
cause by alluding to the infamy for which
you have already been convicted."
" If the judgment was infamous for any
one. Count d'Ahlefeld, it was certainly not
for me."
The aged captive had risen while pronounc¬
ing these forcible words. The president
extended his hand.
" Sit down. Do not insult the court, the
judges who have condemned you, and the
king who has appointed these judges. Re¬
member, the king deigned to spare your life.
And confine yourself to your own defense."
Schumacker's only response was in shrugging
his shoulders.
"Have you," asked the president, "any
confession to make concerning the crime of
which you are accused?"
Seeing that Schumacher remained silent,
the president repeated the question.
" Are you addressing yourself to me?" said
the ex-chancellor. " I thought, noble Count
d'Ahlefeld, that you were speaking to your¬
self. What crime do you hold against me?
Have I ever given an Iscariot kiss to a friend ?
192
HAN OF ICELAND
Have I ever imprisoned, condemned or dis¬
honored a benefactor ? him who I owed all,
have I ever stripped of all ? I am at a loss to
know, my lord chancellor in office, why I
have been brought here. Doubtless to prove
your ability in causing the heads of the inno¬
cent to fall. In fact I shall not be sorry to
be able to judge, if you can compass my ruin
equally as well as you are now ruining the
country, and if a stroke of your pen will effect
my death, as one letter of the alphabet was
sufficient to provoke war with Sweden.""
He had hardly finished this bitter tirade
when the man seated before the table to the
left arose.
"My lord president, and you, my lords,"
said he, after bowing profoundly to the judges,
"I demand that John Schumacher shall be
silenced, if he continues thus to insult his
grace, the president of this honored court."
The calm voice of the bishop was heard:
" Master Private Secretary, an accused can¬
not be denied a hearing."
"You are right, reverend bishop," ex¬
claimed the president, hastily. "Our inten¬
tion is to give full liberty to the defense.
For the sake of his own interest, I should
advise the prisoner to moderate his language."
Schumacher shook his head, and said
coolly:
HAN OF ICELAND
193
" It seems Count d'Ahlefeld is surer of his
case than in 1677."
"Silence," said the president, hastening
to address the next prisoner, by asking his
name.
It was a huge mountaineer, with his fore¬
head bandaged, who rose, saying:
" I am Han, of Klipstadur, in Iceland."
A shudder ran through the crowd, and
Schumacker, whose head had fallen forward,
darted a quick glance at his formidable neigh¬
bor, from whom the other prisoners kept
aloof.
"Han of Iceland," asked the president,
when the terror had somewhat subsided,
" what have you to say to the court?"
Of all the spectators, Ethel was no less
struck with the appearance of this famous
brigand, who had so long filled her imagina¬
tion. Terrified, she looked with horror on
this immense giant, a murderer, to whom her
Ordener had perhaps fallen a victim. She
was so pursued with this and other painful
ideas, that she scarcely heard Han of Iceland's
coarse and embarrassed reply, except when he
declared himself chief of the rebel bands.
Did you offer yourself," asked the presi¬
dent, " or were you instigated by any stranger
to take the command of the rebels ?"
The brigand replied:
194
HAN OF ICELAND
" I did not offer myself."
" Who suggested this crime ?"
"A man called Hacket."
" Who was this Hacket ?"
" An agent of Schumacker's, who called
him Count of Griffenfeld."
The president turned to Schumacher:
" Schumacher, do you know this Hacket?"
"You have forestalled me, Count d'Ahle-
feld," answered the old man. "I was about
to ask you the same question."
"John Schumacher," said the president,
" hatred is a bad counselor. The court will
know how to appreciate your defense."
The bishop's voice was again heard:
"Master Clerk of the Court," said he,
turning toward the private secretary, the short
man who seemed to be both recorder and
prosecutor, " is this Hacket one of my
clients ?"
" No, your reverence," answered the secre¬
tary.
" Is it known what has become of him?"
" We were not able to capture him. He
has disappeared."
It was noticed that the secretary's voice
seemed strained.
" I should say he has faded away alto¬
gether," interposed Schumacher.
The bishop continued:
HAN OF ICELAND
195
" Has good search been made for this
Racket ? Has any description been given of
him, Master Clerk of the Court?"
Before the clerk could reply, one of the
prisoners rose, a proud and severe looking
young miner.
"You can easily have that," said he, in a
loud tone. "This villain. Racket, Schu-
macker's agent, is a short man, with an open-
looking face, open as the jaws of hell. Indeed,
my lord bishop, his voice sounded very much
like that of his lordship who is writing at that
table, and whom your reverence caX]s private
secretary. If this hall were less dark, and the
gentleman there had less hair about his face, I
am certain he would very much resemble that
traitor. Racket himself."
" Our brother is right," cried the two com¬
rades of the young miner.
"So, indeed!" muttered Schumacher, tri¬
umphantly.
The secretary shuddered invohihtarily,
either from fear or with indignation at
thus being compared to Racket. The presi¬
dent also looked annoyed, and hastened to
say:
" Prisoners, do not forget that you should
be silent until you are -questioned, and do not
attempt to insult a minister of justice by such
degrading comparisons."
«
196
HAN OF ICELAND
"But, my lord president," interposed the
bishop, " this is only a question of identity.
If there are some points of resemblance
between the clerk and the culprit Hacket, all
this might be of service.''
The president interrupted him :
" Han of Iceland, you have had much to
do with Hacket. Tell us, just to satisfy his
reverence, say if he resembles our honored
private secretary."
" Not in the least," replied the giant,
unhesitatingly.
" There, my lord bishop," added the presi¬
dent.
The bishop signified his satisfaction, and
the president then questioned another prisoner
in the usual way.
" What is your name?"
"Wilfred Kennybol from the Kole Moun¬
tains."
" Were you one of the rebels?"
" Yes, my lord. Truth is worth more than
life. I was taken prisoner in the cursed
gorges of Black Pillar. I was chief of the
mountaineers."
" Did you incite any men to rebellion?"
" Our brothers, the miners arose on account
of the royal tax, because the government
would not listen to their complaints. If you
had only a mud hut and two old foxes' skins
HAN OF ICELAND
197
you surely would like to be master of them.
Well, my lord, when the miners determined
to revolt they asked us to join them. So
small a service could scarcely be refused
between brothers who repeat the same prayers
and invoke the same saints. That is all."
"Did no one ferment, encourage, and lead
on this insurrection?" said the president.
"A Master Racket, who was always talk¬
ing of releasing a prisoner at Munckholm,
a count, whose agent he declared himself to
be. We promised to do so. It little mat¬
tered to us if we set one person or more at
liberty."
" Was not this count called Schumacher, or
Griffenfeld ?"
" Just so, your lordship."
" Did you ever see him ?"
" No, my lord; but if the old man who
gave himself such a number of names just now
is he, I must allow . . ."
"What?" interrupted the president.
"That he has a splendid white beard,
almost as good as that of the father of the
husband of my sister Maase, of the hamlet of
Surb, who lived till he was a hundred and
twenty years old."
It was impossible to see in this gloomy hall
if the mountaineer's reply was disappointing
to the president. He quickly ordered the
198
HAN OF ICELAND
archers to display the scarlet banners before
the court.
"Wilfred Kennybol," said he, "do you
recognize these banners?"
" Yes; they were handed to us by Hacket,
who also, in Count Schumacker's name,
sent arms to the miners. We mountaineers
did not want them, as we live by our carbine
and game bag. I, my lord, here fastened like
a fowl ready for roasting, have aimed, from
the depths of the valley, at an old eagle, and
brought him down from his loftiest flight,
though he seemed but a sparrow or thrush
when high up in the air."
" You hear, my lords," observed the private
secretary, addressing the judges : " the prisoner
Schumacher, through his agent Hacket, sent
both arms and banners to the rebels."
" Kennybol, have you anything further to
say?" inquired the president.
" Nothing. Only I do not deserve death.
I only assisted the miners; and I can assure
your lordships that, old sportsman that I am,
I never fired on one of the king's deer."
The president, without repl)dng to this plea,
hastened to question Kennybol's two com¬
panions, both chiefs of the miners. Jonas,
the elder, but repeated what Kennybol had
said. The younger man was the same who
had remarked the resemblance between the
HAN OF ICELAND
199
clerk of the court and the treacherous Hacket.
This was Norbith, who proudly owned his
share in the revolt, but refused to answer any
questions relating to Hacket or Schumacker.
He said he had sworn to be silent, and he
must keep his oath; and, notwithstanding
threats and remonstrances, he remained firm.
He said he had not rebelled for Schumacker,
but for his mother's sake, who was perish¬
ing from cold and hunger. He might
have deserved death, but it would be an
act of injustice to condemn him, as it would
also kill his poor mother, who did not
merit it.
When Norbith ceased speaking the clerk of
the court summed up in a few words, dwelling
on the fearful charges brought against the
prisoners, particularly against Schumacker.
He then read some of the seditious devices
on the banners; he pointed out how the ex-
chancellor's accomplices all agreed in their
replies, even young Norbith's silence, though
tied by his oath, was condemnatory. " There
remains one more prisoner to question,"
said he. " We have every reason to believe
that he is a secret agent of the one who has
watched so badly over the peace of the Dron-
theimhus. Even were he guiltless of con¬
nivance, his fatal negligence has favored this
rebellion, cost the lives of these unfortunate
2O0
ttAN OF ICELAND
men, and sent Schumacker to the scaffold,
from which he was previously so generously
saved by the king's clemency."
To Ethel's fears for Ordener was now added
the horror of her father's doom, as she listened
to these terrible words. The poor girl wept
bitterly, while her father arose, and calmly
said: " Chancellor d'Ahlefeld, I am lost in
admiration at your ingenuity. Have you
already requested the executioner to be in
attendance ?"
Ethel thought no grief could touch her now,
but she soon realized that she was deceived.
The sixth prisoner had just risen; noble
and superb, he had brushed back the hair
which covered his face, and to the questions
addressed to him by the president he answered
in a firm and distinct tone,
" I am Ordener Guldenlew, Baron of Thor-
wick. Knight of Dannebrog."
A cry of amazement was heard from the
private secretary:
" The viceroy's son !"
" The viceroy's son !" echoed all voices as
if the hall had a hundred echoes.
The president fell back in his chair, the
judges leaned toward one another, looking
like trees blown by a contrary wind. But
the agitation was far greater among the
audience. Some mounted the stone copings.
HAN OF ICELAND
20I
Others rushed to the iron gratings, one con¬
tinual murmur ran throughout the court. The
guards broke through their enforced silence,
and added to the universal clamor by their
ejaculations.
How can Ethel's mingled feelings of joy
and grief be depicted. Ordener stood before
her; she could gaze on him, while he knew
not she was present. Her well-beloved was
there—^her Ordener, whom she thought dead.
He was lost to her. This friend had deceived
her, and yet, with all this, she adored him
still. This was no mere delusion, but Ordener
himself, whom she had more frequently seen
in her dreams than in reality. Was he there
as a guardian angel, or an evil genius ? May
she rest her hopes on him, or must she tremble
for his safety? Before the spectators heard
his name Ethel recognized him at once, and
this knowledge, combined with other feelings,
completely overpowered her.
The poor girl fainted, sinking like a flame
that is extinguished by too much fuel.
She soon recovered a second time, thanks
to the care of the mysterious stranger. Her
first glance was turned toward the young man,
who still remained standing. He alone was
calm amid the general clamor. When order
was restored the words Ordener Guldenlew
still rang in her ears. Ethel was grieved
202
HAN OF ICELAND
to see his arm in a sling, his cloak much torn,
his trusty sword gone. Added to this, he was
manacled. Nothing escaped her loving eyes.
She could not clasp him to her, but her soul
was filled with his image; and it must be
said, to love's honor and shame, that in that
very hall, which contained her father and
her father's persecutors, Ethel saw but one
man.
Silence was gradually established. The
president proceeded in his duty of question¬
ing the viceroy's son:
"My lord baron ..." said he, in trem¬
bling accents.
"I am not termed here my lord baron, but
simply Ordener Guldenlew, just as the former
Count of Grifienfeld is now called John Schu¬
macher. ''
The president remained a moment as though
thunderstruck.
"Well, then, Ordener Guldenlew," added
he, "doubtless it is by some mischance that
you are placed in this position. You were
traveling, and were taken prisoner by the
rebels, who compelled you to join them, which
would account for your being found in their
ranks."
The secretary arose, saying:
"Noble judges, the name alone of the son
of the Viceroy of Norway is quite sufficient
HAN OF ICELAND
203
plea. Baron Ordener Guldenlew cannot be a
rebel. Our illustrious president has cleaily
explained the reason of his arrest. The noble
prisoner has been to blame for concealing
his name. We must demand his immediatt
liberation, and that all proceedings shouk
cease against him. We must express our
regret that he should have occupied the same
bench as that criminal Schumacher and his
accomplices."
" What are you saying ?" cried Ordener.
" The secretary, our public prosecutor,
desists from all further proceedings against
you," replied the president.
"He is in error, then," said Ordener,
in a firm and distinct tone. "I alone
ought to be accused, judged, and con¬
demned." He hesitated a moment, and
then added in a tone less firm, " For I alone
am guilty."
" Guilty alone !" cried the president.
"Guilty alone!" repeated the private
secretary.
The audience burst forth in exclamations of
surprise. Wretched Ethel shuddered at this
confession, which brought death in its train
for her Ordener, forgetful that by this means
her father's life was saved.
"Halberdiers, make silence," cried the
president, trying to gather his ideas together
204
HAN OF ICELAND
and regain his presence of mind. " Ordener
Guldenlevv, explain yourself," said he.
The young man was lost in thought. He
aroused himself with a deep sigh, then arose,
and calmly replied:
"Yes, an infamous death awaits me—I,
who had life before me in all its glory and
happiness; but God knows the heart's secret
truly, God alone. I have one great duty to
perform, for which my blood and honor may
be sacrificed; but I feel no remorse, and I
shall die without repentance. Let your lord¬
ships not be surprised. There are mysteries
in the human soul which you cannot fathom.
Heaven alone can be their judge. Hearken
to my words! Act toward me as your con¬
science dictates, but pardon these unfortunate
men, more particularly Schumacher, who has
already suffered for more crimes than any one
man could commit. Yes, my noble judges, I
am guilty, and the only guilty party. Schu¬
macher is innocent; the other unfortunates
were simply misled. The promoter of this
rebellion was myself."
" You!" exclaimed the astonished president
and private secretary.
" I! and interrupt me no more, my lords.
I am anxious to end matters and complete
my own accusation, in order to justify these
men. I instigated the miners to revolt in
HAN OF ICELAND
205
Schumacker's name. I distributed banners,
gold, and arms in the Munckholm prisoner's
name. Hacket was my agent."
At the mention of Hacket the clerk of the
court looked completely stupefied.
Ordener continued:
" I will spare your time, my lords. I was
taken in the midst of the miners, whom I had
incited to rebel. I accomplished all without
adherents. It is now for you to judge whether
my crime admits of no denial; if so, then
the proof is clear that Schumacher is innocent;
and likewise the poor creatures you term his
accomplices."
Thus saying, the young man raised his eyes
to heaven. Ethel was breathless with suspense.
She had noticed how bitterly Ordener had
mentioned her father's name, although he
was trying to justify him. All seemed inex¬
plicable to her, except the sense of impending
misfortune, which she so clearly realized.
The president was evidently struck with
the same feeling. It might have been said
that he could not believe his ears. He
nevertheless addressed the son of the
viceroy:
" If you alone are the only promoter of this
rebellion, what motives had you for taking
such a step?"
" I cannot say."
2o6
HAN OF ICELAND
Ethel shuddered when she heard the presi¬
dent continue in an almost irritated voice :
" Did you not carry on an intrigue with
Schumacher's daughter ?"
Ordener, looking straight at the bench,
indignantly exclaimed:
" Chancellor d'Ahlefeld, be content with
my life, which I give to you, and do not
forget the respect you owe to a noble and
innocent girl. Do not attempt to degrade
her a second time!"
The poor girl flushed at the words a second
time, although she knew not why her defender
lay such stress on them. The president clearly
showed he understood them.
" Ordener Guldenlew, do not forget to
respect the king's court of justice and the chief
officials of the same. In the name of the
bench, I reprimand you. I request you to
confess the motive which impelled you to
commit the crime of which you now accuse
yourself."
"I must repeat, I cannot tell you."
"Was it not for Schumacher's deliver¬
ance?" inquired the clerk.
Ordener remained silent.
"It is useless for you to maintain this
reserve, prisoner Ordener, for it has been
proved that you were in communication with
Schumacher," said the president. "This
HAN OF ICELAND
207
confession of yours in no way justifies him,
but simply adds to his guilt. You went often
to Munckholm. You must have had a wonder¬
ful attraction there, the proof of which is this
diamond buckle."
The president took from his desk a diamond
buckle and showed it to Ordener.
" Do you recognize that as having belonged
to you?"
"Yes. By what chance . . . ?"
" Well! a dying rebel gave it to our secre¬
tary, saying you had given it to him as pay¬
ment for rowing you from Drontheim port to
Munckholm fortress. Now, I would ask your
lordships, would Ordener Guldenlew give such
a reward to a simple boatman if it were not a
matter of vital importance for him to visit
Schumacher's prison?"
"Ah," said the prisoner Kennybol, "his
lordship is right. My poor comrade. Guidon
Stayper, said the same, and I recognize this
buckle as the one he had in his possession."
"Silence," cried the president. "It is for
Ordener Guldenlew to speak."
" I do not deny I was anxious to see Schu¬
macher. But as for the buckle, that says
nothing. Diamonds are not allowed in the
fortress. The boatman, while crossing, com¬
plained of his poverty. I threw him this
buckle, which I could not retain myself."
2o8
hak of iceland
"Pardon me, my lord," interrupted the
secretary, " this rule excepts the viceroy's son.
You could then ..."
" I did not wish to be known."
"Why?" said the president.
" That I cannot say."
"The very fact of your complete under¬
standing with Schumacker and his daughter
proves the object of your plot was their
deliverance."
Schumacker, who had occasionally disdain¬
fully shrugged his shoulders during this time,
now arose, saying:
"Deliver me! Why, the object of this
infernal plot is to compromise and ruin me.
Do you imagine Ordener Guldenlew would
have admitted his share in this crime had he
not been found in the midst of the rebels ? I
can plainly see he has inherited his father's
hatred for me. As for any understanding he
had with myself and daughter, let this cursed
Guldenlew know that my daughter has in¬
herited my hatred for him, and the whole
race of the Guldenlews and of the d'Ahle-
felds."
Ordener sighed deeply, whilst Ethel mur¬
mured a denial. Schumacker took his seat,
trembling with passion.
"The court will decide," said the presi¬
dent.
HAN OF ICELAND
209
While Schumacker was speaking, Ordener
never raised his eyes. He recovered himself,
and again addressed the court.
" Oh, noble judges, hear me. Well weigh
the case. Remember Ordener Guldenlew
alone is guilty. Schumacker is innocent, and
the other unfortunate men were but tools of
Racket, my agent. I compassed all the rest."
Kennybol interrupted him:
"Most noble judges, I can vouch for
the truth of his lordship's words. He con¬
fided the secret of his journey to me, at my
brother Braall's house in the hamlet of Surb.
He was then on his way to Walderhog Cave,
in search of Han of Iceland, hoping to make
him our chief. Naming him, will not I hope
bring me bad luck. What the young master
says is true—^that we were led on by that
cursed Racket. This proves that we do not
deserve death."
"Master private secretary," said the presi¬
dent, " the debate has closed. What is your
judgment ?"
The clerk stroked his lace bands, bowed to
the court, and, with his eyes fixed on the
president, pronounced the following words in
a solemn tone:
" My lord president, most honored judges!
the prosecution is victorious. Ordener Gul¬
denlew has forever tarnished his glorious
210
HAN OF ICELAND
name by proving his own guilt, without estab¬
lishing the ex-chancellor's innocence, or those
of his accomplices, Han of Iceland, Wilfred
Kennybol, Jonas and Norbith. I call upon
you to declare the six prisoners guilty of high
treason and conspiracy in the first degree."
A murmur went through the crowd; the
president was about to close the case, when
the bishop claimed a moment's attention.
"Learned judges, it is but right that
the prisoners' defense should be heard last.
Would that they had a more able advocate,
for I am old and feeble. What power re¬
mains to me I owe to God's mercy. I am
surprised at the clerk of the court's stern
request. There is nothing proved against
my client Schumacher. He can in no way be
associated with the miners' rebellion, since
my other client, Ordener Guldenlew, declares
that he made use of Schumacher's name as a
watchword for this purpose. Moreover, he,
Ordener Guldenlew, confesses that he alone
is guilty of this reprehensible sedition. There
is no evidence against Schumacher, and his
case should be dismissed. The other prison¬
ers have only been misguided. I therefore
recommend them to mercy. They are but
like the wandering sheep of the Good Shep¬
herd. And even young Ordener Guldenlew
possesses one great merit in the eyes of the
HAN OP ICELAND
2It
Lord—he confesses his crime. My lords, I
pray you, consider that he is at an age when
men are apt to stray and sometimes fall, yet
God never forsakes them, nor fails to send
them help in the time of trouble. Ordener
Guldenlew has scarcely attained a fourth of
the years which now bear me down. In
passing sentence upon him take into con¬
sideration his youth and inexperience, and
judge not that the life, so lately given him,
must be forfeited."
The old man ceased, and again resumed
his seat near Ordener, who greeted him
with a smile, whilst the judges, at the presi¬
dent's invitation, retired to consider their
verdict.
The prisoners, guarded by halberdiers, sat
quietly throughout the time their fate was
being decided. Schumacher remained with
his head bent down, lost in thought; the giant
looked from right to left with silly assurance;
Jonas and Kennybol held their hands clasped
in prayer. Norbith, from time to time,
stamped the ground, and clanked his chains.
Between him and the venerable bishop sat
Ordener, his arms crossed, his eyes raised
heavenward, listening to his reverence recit¬
ing the penitential psalms.
From behind them was heard the noise
of the crowd giving vent to their feelings the
212
HAN OF ICELAND
moment the judges left. There was the
famous captive of Munckholm, the fearful
demon of Iceland; but, above all others,
the viceroy's son was the centre of attraction.
Amid the confusion of voices, some expressed
pity, others only laughter; and the sounds
arose and fell like flames driven by the
wind.
The long night hours passed, and the
judges still continued their deliberations; the
sentinels paced up and down before the door
like two mute phantoms.
At last torches and lamps began to pale and
the first rays of the dawn appeared when,
amid breathless silence, the president, fol¬
lowed by the judges, resumed their seats on
the bench.
The clerk of the court during their absence
seemed buried in thought, but on their return
he bowed, and then again addressed them.
" My lord president, what is the result of
the judgment which has been passed in the
name of the king, without appeal ? We are
prepared to listen to it with a religious
respect."
The judge to the right of the president
arose, holding a parchment before him.
" His grace, our noble president, fatigued
by the length of the trial, has deputed me,
the High S)njdic of the Drontheimhus, who
HAN OF ICELAND
213
presides over this court, to pass the verdict
which has been drawn in the king's name.
We are about to fulfil this painful though
honorable duty. We must request the audi¬
ence to keep silent while the king's just
sentence is passed."
Then, the high syndic pronounced the fol¬
lowing words in a forcible and solemn man¬
ner, whilst all hearts beat rapidly:
" In the name of our respected master and
legitimate lord. Christian, king ! This verdict
is given by us, the judges of the High Court
of Justice of the Drontheimhus. We have
acted to the best of our belief concerning John
Schumacker, State prisoner; Wilfred Kenny-
bol, Kole mountaineer; Jonas and Norbith,
royal miners; Han, of Klipstadur, in Ice¬
land ; Ordener Guldenlew, Baron of Thor-
wick. Knight of Dannebrog; all accused of
high treason and leze-majesty in the first
degree. Han of Iceland, further accused of
assassination, incendiarism, and brigandage.
" I. John Schumacker—not guilty.
" 2. Wilfred Kennybol, Jonas and Nor¬
bith—guilty. But they are recommended to
mercy, as they were misled.
" 3. Han of Iceland is guilty of high
treason and leze-majesty in the first degree.
" 4. Ordener Guldenlew is guilty of high
treason and leze-majesty in the first degree."
«
214
HAM OF ICELAND
The judge paused to take snuff. Ordener
gave him a glance of celestial joy.
" John Schumacker, the court absolves you
of all participation in this crime and sends
you back to your prison.
" Kennybol, Jonas and Norbith, your sen¬
tence is reduced to imprisonment for life,
and a fine of a thousand crowns each.
" Han of Klipstadur, assassin and incen¬
diary, you will be taken this evening on to the
parade at Munckholm, and hanged by the
neck until death follows.
" Ordener Guldenlew, traitor, you will be
stripped of every rank in the presence of this
court, you will be conducted to this same
parade, carrying a torch in your hand, where
your head will be severed, your body burned,
your ashes cast to the winds, your head placed
on a pole.
" All may now retire. Such is the sentence
rendered by the king's justice."
The high syndic had scarcely finished his
funereal discourse, when a piercing cry rang
through the court which struck the hearers
with greater horror than the judgment itself.
The condemned Ordener looked both calm
and bright, but at this fearful sound his face
became of an ashen hue.
XLIV.
Misfortune makes all equals.
Charles Nodier.
The judgment has been given, and nothing
now remains but the final stroke to fall. The
young man's noble conspiracy has succeeded,
his well-beloved will be safe under her father's
protection, for Schumacker's life has been
saved at the expense of his own.
Let those who have considered this generous
Ordener guilty or mad, judge him now, he,
who joined the rebels solely to frustrate the
plot against Schumacher; and if powerless to
do so, determined to spare him all punish¬
ment by taking everything on his own head.
" Alas," thought he, " Schumacher is
doubtless guilty, but his long captivity and
misfortunes drove him to the crime. Under
the circumstance, even such a deed is pardon¬
able. He longed for freedom, and incited
this rebellion in order to compass his end.
What a fate for my Ethel, if her father were
to lose his life on the scaffold. Another
215
2i6
HAN OF ICELAND
disgrace added to her sorrows, without pro¬
tection, without assistance; either to remain
alone in her captivity, or to wander in the
midst of a crowd of enemies." It was this
that made him gladly take the accusation on
himself. Can there be greater happiness than
in sacrificing one's self for the sake of the
well-beloved, though it were but for a smile
or a tear?
He was found among the rebels, told a
generous lie; was condemned by the very
judges who had accused Schumacher, sen¬
tenced to a cruel and ignominious death, and
his name forever blasted. But what mattered
all this to the young man? He had saved
his Ethel's father.
He is now in chains in a damp cell, where
light and air are but faintly admitted through
gloomy port-holes. The only food he will ever
have for the remainder of his existence is by
his side—black bread and a jug of water.
Though weighed down in chains from head
to foot, he is lost in delightful dreams,
and in one hour he realizes more what
life is, than another feels in the space of a
year.
" Perhaps my memory will not perish with
me. I know that, at least, one heart will beat
for me, a tear will fall for the blood so freely
given. She will, perhaps, regret him who
HAN OF ICELAND
217
sacrificed his life for her, and in my loved
one's dreams her friend may sometimes find a
place. Who can tell what comes after death ?
Perhaps the soul, delivered from its prison-
house, may be allowed to watch over those
well-beloved captives here below, and hold
some intercourse with them, whereby they
may secretly dispense some angelic virtue,
and diffuse joy from heaven above."
At the moment of Ordener' s great sacrifice
he was oppressed with the bitter thought of
Schumacker's inveterate hatred. He was
haunted by the remembrance of that pierc¬
ing cry which echoed through the court when
sentence was passed on him, for he alone
recognized the voice—his Ethel's. And then,
should he ever see her again ? should he ever
hear the voice and press the hand of her for
whom he was about to die ?
Just then the old rusty hinges grated in
their sockets. The young man thought it
was the executioner come to do his duty. He
was mistaken. The door was thrown open,
and Ordener gazed on a pale and wan-look¬
ing face. Ordener doubted his eyes and asked
himself if he were not already in heaven. It
was she—his Ethel!
The young girl threw herself into his arms,
kissing the very chains of infamy with her
unsullied lips, bedewing his hands with her
2i8
han of iceland
tears. She could not speak, but her heart
seemed ready to break, and her sobbing pre¬
vented her uttering a single word.
He had never known such supreme happi¬
ness. He pressed her fondly to him; and no
power on earth or in hell could have separated
them. His near approaching death inten¬
sified his feelings, and he held his Ethel as
though it were for all eternity.
He did not ask this angel how she had been
able to get to him. She was there, and that
was all-sufficient; for he well knew how love
could overcome great difficulties.
Both were silent. What is the mere sound
of a voice, compared to the inner language of
the soul? There are some deep emotions
which cannot be expressed.
The young girl at length raised her head
from his shoulder.
"Ordener, I am come to save you," said
she, in a hopeful tone, although her heart
sank within her.
Ordener shook his head, and merely said:
"Save me, Ethel? You deceive yourself;
flight is impossible."
"Alas! I know that but too well. The
castle is filled with soldiers. Every door is
guarded by archers and jailers, who are ever
on the watch; but"—here she hesitated—
" I can suggest other means."
HAN or ICELAND
219
" No, Ethel, your hopes are in vain; for
they will be cruelly dispelled in a few hours'
time by a stroke of the axe."
" Oh, pray cease 1 Ordener! You shall
not die. Oh ! banish this fearful idea. Yet
I would have you picture it in all its horrors
to me, that I may complete the sacrifice which
insures your safety."
There was something indescribable in the
girl's accent, and Ordener looked at her
tenderly;
" Your sacrifice ! AVhat do you mean ?"
She buried her head in her hands, and
sobbing, cried in her anguish: " Oh,
God!"
With a great effort she recovered herself,
and smiled up into his face, like an angel
going to the realms above.
" Listen, my Ordener. The scaffold will
never be raised. For you can live by giving
your promise to marry Ulrica d'Ahlefeld."
" Ulrica d'Ahlefeld I That name in your
mouth, my Ethel ?''
"Do not interrupt me," continued she,
with the calmness of a martyr undergoing
torture. " I have come on the part of Coun¬
tess d'Ahlefeld. You will receive the king's
pardon when you have promised to wed the
grand chancellor's daughter. I implore you
to accede to this, and live for her. I was
220
HAN OF ICELAND
chosen as messenger, thinking I should have
some influence over you."
"Ethel," replied the condemned man,
coldly, "farewell; on leaving my cell, tell
them to send the executioner."
She rose, stood pale and trembling before
him; then, falling before him on her knees
she wrung her hands:
" What have I done to him ?" she murmured
faintly.
Ordener lowered his eyes and remained
silent.
"My lord !" she cried, dragging herself to
him, " you do not answer. Will you not give
me one word ? must I feel there is nothing to
live for?"
A tear rolled down the young man's cheek.
" Ethel, you have then ceased to love me!"
"Oh, God," cried the poor girl, wildly
pressing his hand; "he telb me I do not love
him ! You, my Ordener, can you really have
said these words?"
"You cannot love me, since you despise
me.
He immediately repented this cruel speech.
Ethel threw her arms around him, and with
heartrending accents, cried:
"Pardon me, my adored Ordener; forgive
me, as I forgive you. I despise you! Are
you not my pride, my love, my all ? Did my
HAN OF ICELAND
221
words convey anything but deep love and the
greatest respect for you ? Alas! for your
severity, when I thought to save you, my own
Ordener, by sacrificing my whole life for
yours."
"Well, then," said the young man, kissing
away her tears, "was it not showing but little
regard for me when you proposed that I
should purchase life at the expense of my
oath, my very love itself, and abandon my
Ethel, for whose sake I am willing to shed
the last drop of my blood?".
A long sigh preceded Ethel's response.
" Ordener, do not judge me hastily. I
have greater powers of endurance than
women generally have; but from our very
dungeon I can see them erecting the scaffold
on the Place d'Armes. Oh, Ordener! you
cannot picture my grief as I gaze with horror
on those men who are slowly preparing for
the death of him who is my very life. The
Countess d'Ahlefeld, who was seated near me
when your fatal sentence was pronounced,
came to the dungeon, where I had gone with
my father, and suggested that I should make
you this proposition. If I wished to save
your life, she offered me this odious means of
doing SO. I must crush all hopes of happiness,
renounce you, and give my Ordener up to
another, that she may take the poor forsaken
222
HAN OF ICELAND
Ethel's only joy. I had to choose between
my own irremediable misfortune or your
death, and I did not hesitate for a moment."
He respectfully kissed this angel's hand.
" And I do not hesitate either, Ethel. You
would not offer me life and Ulrica d'Ahle-
feld if you knew why I am really about to
die."
" What ! there is some mystery?"
"I must keep this secret from you, my
Ethel, leaving you in ignorance whether to l>e
grateful or to hate me for my death."
"You wish to die! Oh, God, can it be
true that the scaffold is being erected for my
Ordener ? that no human power can save him
from this fate? Pray look upon me, your
companion, your very slave, and promise, my
well-beloved, not to be angry at my words.
Are you sure—answer your Ethel as you would
your God—that you could not be happy with
this woman, this Ulrica d'Ahlefeld ? She is
doubtless beautiful, gentle and good, and
better far than her for whom you are about to
sacrifice your life. My Ordener, my dear
friend, do not turn your head aside. You are
so young and so noble to perish on the scaf¬
fold. You could live with her in some gay
city, where you would soon forget this gloomy
dungeon. Your days would pass in peace,
and you would hear nothing of me. Banish
HAN OF ICELAND
223
me from your heart, and even from your
thoughts; but live, Ordener, and leave me
here to die. Believe me, when once you are
in another's arms you need have no anxiety
about me, for I shall not suffer long."
She ceased, for her voice was lost in tears.
In her very despair there was still the fixed
determination to gain the fatal victory, which
to her meant death.
Ordener said to her:
" Ethel, do not speak thus, and let no name
but our own pass our lips at such a time as
this."
"Alas! alas! then all is useless, and you
will die?"
" It must be so. I will gladly perish on the
scaffold for your sake; whereas I should go
with horror to the altar with any other woman.
Do not press this subject; you only distress
and offend me."
She wept, and still continued to murmur:
" Oh, God! he then must die, and such an
infamous death."
The condemned answered, smiling, " Be¬
lieve me, Ethel, there is less dishonor in
such a death as mine than in the terms you
propose for purchasing my life."
He turned his eyes away for a moment, and
they fell on an old man in priestly garb stand¬
ing in the door-way.
224
HAN OF ICELAND
"What do you want here?" said Ordener,
roughly.
" My lord, I came with the envoy of the
Countess d'Ahlefeld. You did not perceive
me, and I have waited here in silence until
you noticed me."
Indeed, Ordener and Ethel had only eyes
for each other. The latter in the excitement
had quite forgotten her companion.
"I am," continued the old man, "the
priest charged ..."
" I understand," said the young man. " I
am ready."
The priest came toward him:
"God is also ready to receive you, my
son."
" Reverend sir," answered Ordener, "your
face seems familiar to me. I have seen you
before."
The minister bowed.
" I remember meeting you, my son, in the
Tower of Vygla. We can both show the
fallacy of human promises. You assured me
that twelve unfortunate criminals should re¬
ceive their pardon. I, not knowing you were
the viceroy's son, did not credit your words.
You, my lord, reckoned that your rank and
influence would obtain this concession ..."
Ordener completed the thought that Athan-
asius Munder did not dare to finish.
HAN OF ICELAND
225
" And now I can obtain no clemency, not
even for myself. I thought little of the future,
and this assurance has been punished, for
time has proved ray weakness."
The priest bowed his head.
" God is powerful."
Then, with a kindly look at Ordener, he
added:
" God is good."
Ordener, who seemed preoccupied, cried,
after a short silence:
"Listen, your reverence; I wish to keep
the promise I made to you at Vygla. When
I am no more, go to Berghen, and tell the
viceroy, my father, what his son's last wishes
were—pardon for your twelve protigis—and I
am sure he will grant it."
A tear fell down the old man's face.
"My son, how noble of you to think of
pardon for others at the very time you so
courageously reject it for yourself. I was
deeply moved by your refusal, while I could
but blame you for such an excess of pas¬
sionate emotion. I repeated to myself, ' Unde
scelus!' How is it that a man whose feel¬
ings so nearly approach perfection, can be
guilty of the crime for which you are con¬
demned ?''
"Father, I have kept the secret from this
angel, and I cannot reveal it to you; only 1
226
HAN OF ICELAND
would have you believe that the cause of my
condemnation is not a crime."
" What ? Explain yourself, my son."
"Do not insist," replied the young man,
firmly. " Let me carry to the grave the secret
which has compassed my death."
" This young man cannot be guilty," mur¬
mured the priest.
Then he drew forth a black cross, and
placed it on a rough-hewn altar fixed against
the damp prison wall. Near the crucifix he
placed a lighted iron lamp and an open
Bible.
" My son, pray and meditate, I will return
in a few hours. Let us now go," said he to
Ethel, who had remained silent during this
solemn time; "we must leave the prisoner.
Time is flying."
She rose radiant and calm, a divine light in
her face:
"Your reverence, I cannot go until you
have united Ethel Schumacker with Ordener
Guldenlew, her betrothed."
She turned to Ordener:
"If you were still of the same rank and
influence, and free, I would not unite my
wretched fate with yours; but now that my
misfortunes cannot affect you, for, like myself,
you are a disgraced and oppressed captive,
and about to die, I dare hope I may be your
HAN OF ICELAND
227
companion in death, my Ordener, as I could
never have been your companion in life.
Your very love must tell you, that when you
die, I shall cease to live."
The condemned man fell at her feet and
kissed the hem of her garment.
"You, father," continued she to the old
man, " will stand us in lieu of parents or
family. May this cell be our temple, this
stone our altar. Here is my ring, and we
shall kneel in God's presence and before
you. Pray, bestow your blessing on us, and
read the sacred words which unite Ethel
Schumacher to Ordener Guldenlew, her
lord."
The priest was filled with astonishment and
pity at the kneeling figures before him.
" What ? My children, what are you
doing?"
"Father," said the young girl, "time is
flying; God and death are awaiting us."
There are moments when we are governed by
some irresistible power. The priest felt this,
and, with a sigh, he raised his eyes.
" May the Lord forgive me if I am to blame
in making this concession. You love each
other, and there remains but little time on
earth for you to gratify this feeling. I do not
consider I am failing in my duty by giving
your love a rightful claim."
228
HAN OF ICELAND
He proceeded with the irrevocable cere¬
mony ; and after the priest's final blessing,
they both arose as husband and wife.
The face of the condemned man shone with
a sorrowful joy, for he now fully realized all
the bitterness of death, since life offered so
much bliss. The young girl felt all the pride
of being a young wife.
"Listen to me," said she, "has not the
prospect of death brought us happiness, my
Ordener, since in life we could never have
been united ? Would you have me tell you,
love, what I shall do ? I shall place myself at
my dungeon window, in full view of the scaf¬
fold, so that our souls may together wing their
flight to heaven. If I die before the axe falls,
then my body shall await yours, that the same
tomb may inclose the bridegroom and his
bride. Is it not so, my adored one?"
He pressed her to his heart, and murmured
the words which filled his whole soul:
" Ethel, now you are really mine!"
" My children," said the chaplain tenderly,
"you must bid each other farewell. It is
time."
"Alas!" cried Ethel.
And she threw herself at the condemned
man's feet.
" Farewell, my lord, my well-beloved
Ordener. Pray give me your blessing."
HAN OF ICELAND
229
The prisoner pronounced the touching
words, and turned to salute the venerable
Athanasius Munder. The old man, likewise,
was kneeling before him.
"What would you have of me, father?"
asked he, surprised.
The old man humbly replied:
" Your blessing, my son."
" May Heaven bless you and bestow on you
as much happiness as your prayers have
brought to other mortals," said Ordener in
solemn, trembling accents.
Soon the gloomy vault echoed the last fare¬
wells, the final embrace were given, soon the
heavy bolts were drawn, and the iron door
separated the youthful husband from his wife.
They, who were about to die, had arranged a
meeting place in eternity.
XLV.
To he who will deliver to me Louis Perez,
dead or alive, I will give two thousand icus.
Calderon—Louis Perez de Galice.
" Baron Voethaun, colonel of the Munck-
holm musketeers, which of the soldiers under
your command made Han of Iceland prisoner
at the Black Pillar ? Name him, that he may
receive the thousand crowns promised for this
capture.''
Thus spoke the president of the court to
the colonel of the musketeers. The court
was still assembled, for according to ancient
custom in Norway, when judgment is given
without appeal, the judges must remain on the
bench till the sentence be carried out. The
giant stands before them, with a rope around
his neck, by which in a few hours he will be
suspended.
The colonel, who was placed near the
clerk's table, arose, bowed to the bench and
the bishop, who had resumed his official
seat.
230
HAN OF ICELAND
231
"My lord judges, the soldier who took
Han of Iceland prisoner is here. His name
is Toric Belfast, second musketeer in my
regiment."
" Let him come," said the president, "and
receive the promised reward."
A young soldier, in the uniform of the
Munckholm musketeers, stepped forward.
" You are Toric Belfast?" asked the presi¬
dent.
"Yes, your grace."
"You took Han of Iceland prisoner?"
" Yes, by the aid of Saint Beelzebub, may it
please your excellency."
A heavy purse was placed on the bench.
" Do you recognize this man as the famous
Han of Iceland ?'' said the president, indicat¬
ing the enchained giant.
" I know my pretty Cattie's face better than
that of Han of Iceland, but I swear, by the
glory of Saint Belphegor, that if Han of
Iceland be anywhere, he is in this great
devil's form."
" Draw near, Toric Belfast. Here are the
thousand crowns promised by the High
Syndic."
The soldier was stepping eagerly forward,
when a voice in the crowd exclaimed:
" Musketeer of Munckholm, it was not you
who took Han of Iceland prisoner."
232 HAN OF ICELANO
"Well, by all the happy devils," cried the
soldier. "At the present moment I have
nothing but my pipe to offer, but I vow I will
hand over ten thousand golden crowns to him
who has just given me the denial, if he can
prove the truth of his words."
And crossing his arms, he looked with
perfect assurance around the audience, and
added:
" Let him who has just spoken show him¬
self."
"It was I!" said a short individual,
making his way to the centre of the
court.
The new-comer was wrapped in matting,
made of rush and seal-fur, such as is used
by the Greenlanders, which fell from the
shoulders, and gave him the appearance of
a conical shaped hut. His beard and long
bushy hair were black, the little that could be
seen of his eyebrows was red, the rest of his
face was truly hideous. Neither his arms nor
hands were visible.
"Ah, so you are the man?" said the
soldier, with a burst of laughter; "and it is
you, my fine sir, who had the honor of taking
this diabolical giant ?"
The little man shook his head, and said
with a sort of malicious smile:
" It was I."
HAN OF ICELAND
233
At this moment, Baron VoethaUn recognized
this singular man as the same mysterious
being who at Skongen had given him notice
of the rebels' approach. Chancellor d'Ahle-
feld saw before him the host of the ruin of
Arbar. The clerk of the court knew him as
a certain peasant of Oelmoe, who wore the
same kind of matting, and who had shown
him Han of Iceland's retreat. These three
persons, being separated, were unable to
communicate to each other their passing
impression, and they were by no means
certain of the fact, owing to the individual's
different disguises.
" And so it was really you?" said the
soldier, ironically. " By the look in your
eyes, if it were not for that Greenland costume
of yours, I should be inclined to think you
were the same odd-shaped dwarf who wanted
to quarrel with me at the Spladgest about a
fortnight since, the very day they brought in
the miner Gill Stadt's corpse."
"Gill Stadt," echoed die little man, shud¬
dering.
"Yes, Gill Stadt," continued the mus¬
keteer, indifferently, "the jilted lover of a
girl who had been the mistress of one of our
comrades, and for whom he died, like a
fool."
The little man said sullenly:
234
HAN OF ICELAND
" Was there not also, at the Spladgest, the
body of an ofBcer belonging to your regi¬
ment?"
" Precisely so. I shall ever remember that
day, for while at the Spladgest I quite forgot
all about the hour of the retreat, and on
my return to the fortress I narrowly escaped
being degraded. That officer was Captain Dis-
polsen."
At the mention of this name the clerk of
the court immediately arose.
"These two people abuse the patience of
the court. We beg the president to put an
end to this useless discourse."
"By my Cattie's honor, I wish for noth¬
ing better," said Toric Belfast, "provided
your lordships will award me the thousand
crowns promised for Han, for I made him
prisoner."
"You lie," cried the little man.
The soldier felt at his side for his sabre.
"Scoundrel, you are fortunate in being in
the presence of justice, for a soldier, even a
Munckholm musketeer, must remain unarmed
like an old cock."
"The reward is mine," pursued the little
man, coldly; "without me you could never
take Han of Iceland."
The soldier retorted furiously that he had
found Han of Iceland lying semi-conscious on
HAN OF ICELAND
235
the battle-field, and had taken him prisoner
as he began to recover.
" That is all very well," rejoined his adver¬
sary ; " you may have taken him, but it was I
who knocked him down. Had I not done so
you would never have captured him ; there¬
fore the reward of a thousand crowns belongs
to me."
"It is false," replied the soldier. "You
never overthrew him. He was struck down
by a spirit, who appeared in the skin of some
beasts."
"It was I."
"No, no, I."
The president requested silence, and again
asked Colonel Voethaun if Toric Belfast had
really brought in Han of Iceland prisoner.
The reply being in the affirmative, he declared
that the soldier was entitled to the reward.
The little man gnashed his teeth, and just
as the musketeer eagerly pressed forward to
receive the purse, he cried:
" One minute, my lord president. Accord¬
ing to the high syndic's decree, this sum
belongs to him who should deliver up Han of
Iceland."
"Well, then?" said the judges.
Turning toward the giant, the little man
exclaimed:
" This man is not Han of Iceland."
236
HAN OF ICELAND
A murmur of astonishment ran through the
court. The president and the private secre¬
tary seemed both greatly agitated.
"No, this money does not belong to that
cursed Munckholm musketeer," said the little
man, fiercely, "for that man is not Han of
Iceland!"
" Halberdiers, seize that madman," cried
the president. " He has lost his senses."
The bishop then interposed:
" Honored president, permit me to observe,
by your refusal to hear this man you deprive
the condemned men here of all chance of
escape. I must request that the inquiry con¬
tinue."
" Reverend bishop, the court is anxious to
satisfy you," replied the president, and turn¬
ing to the giant, " You have sworn, that
you are Han of Iceland. Do you still declare
the same, now that you are sentenced to
death?"
The condemned man answered:
" I swear I am Han of Iceland."
"You hear, my lord bishop?"
The little man shouted at the same
time:
"You lie, you Kole mountaineer, you lie.
Why persist in bearing a name which will be
your destruction? Remember how fatal it
has already proved to you."
HAN OF ICELAND
«37
"I am Han, of Klipstadur, in Iceland,"
stoically answered the giant, keeping his eyes
fixed on the clerk of the court.
The little man approached the Munckholm
musketeer, who was listening attentively to
this curious scene.
" Kole mountaineer, they say Han of Ice¬
land drinks human blood. If you are he
drink it, here is some."
He had scarcely pronounced these words
when he stabbed the musketeer to the heart,
with a dagger he had concealed beneath the
matting, and threw the corpse at the feet of
the giant.
The crowd was horror-stricken, the soldiers
on guard drew back from the giant, and ter¬
rified cries arose on all sides. The little man,
quick as lightning, plunged his dagger into
the mountaineer, whose identity was now
discovered, as he fell on the soldier's body.
Throwing aside the matting, wig, and false
beard the monster showed himself in all his
hideousness, clothed in the skins of beasts.
His appearance created greater horror among
the spectators than the instrument streaming
with the blood of his two victims.
" Ha, ha, judges; where is Han of Iceland?"
"Guards, seize that monster," cried the
terrified president.
Han threw his dagger into the hall.
238
HAN OF ICELAND
" That is useless to me, as there are no
more Munckholm soldiers here."
Thus speaking he gave himself up to the
halberdiers without resistance; they had pre¬
pared to take him by assault, as they would
a fortress, but he quietly gave himself up. He
was chained to the prisoners' bench. A litter
bore away his victims, one of whom, the
mountaineer, still breathed.
It is impossible to picture the terror and
indignation of the whole court during this
horrible scene. The brigand sat calm and
unmoved in the fatal dock. The curiosity of
the crowd overcame all other feelings, and
their rapt attention kept them quiet.
The venerable bishop arose.
"My lords judges ..." said he.
The brigand hastily interrupted him.
" Bishop of Drontheim, I am Han of Ice¬
land; do not take the trouble to defend me."
The private secretary arose.
" Noble president ..."
The monster cut short his words.
" Clerk 6f the court, I am Han of Iceland;
don't trouble yourself to accuse me."
Then, standing there with his feet steeped in
blood, he looked ferociously around. Judges,
guards, spectators, all were terrified at this
man's glance—he, who stood alone, disarmed,
and in chains.
HAN OF ICELAND
239
" Listen, judges. Do not expect long
words from me. I am the demon of Klip-
stadur. My mother came from that old Ice¬
land, the Iceland of volcanoes. It was formerly
only a mountain, but a giant falling from
heaven crushed in the summit. You hardly
want me to tell you about myself. I am a
descendant of Ingulphus the Exterminator,
whose spirit exists in me. I have committed
more murders and created more incendiarisms
than the whole of you have passed judgments.
I have a secret in common with Chancellor
d'Ahlefeld. I should delight in drinking all
the blood in your bodies. My nature is to
hate men, my mission is to injure them.
Colonel of the Munckholni musketeers, it was
I who warned you that the miners would pass
through Black Pillar, as I was certain you
would then create great slaughter among them
in those defiles. It was I who hurled the
blocks of granite on your regiment, crushing
a whole battalion, just to avenge my son.
Judges, now that my son is dead, I come here
in search of death. I am weighed down by
Ingulphus' spirit, because I alone can transmit
it, and I have no heir. I am tired of life, as I
have no successor to whom I can inculcate my
principles or show an example. Besides, my
thirst is quenched with the blood quaffed; and
now here I am, and you can drink mine."
240
HAN OF ICELAND
He ceased, and the echo of his fearful
words ran through the crowd.
The bishop spoke to him:
" My son, what made you commit so many
crimes?"
The brigand laughed.
" Upon my word, reverend bishop, it was
not to enrich myself, like your brother the
Bishop of Borglum," Something within me
urged me on."
" God does not always abide in all His
ministers," humbly replied the old saintly
man. " You insult me, while my wish is to
defend you."
" Your reverence is only wasting time. Just
ask your brother, the Bishop of Scalholt, in
Iceland. By Ingulphus ! it would be strange,
indeed, if two bishops should watch over my
life—one at my cradle and the other at my
grave. Bishop, you are an old idiot."
" My son, do you believe in God ?"
" Why not ? I hope there is a God to
blaspheme."
" Stop! wretched naan ! You are at the
point of death, and yet you refuse to throw
yourself at Christ's feet!"
Han of Iceland shrugged his shoulders.
" If I did, it would be after the style of the
policeman of Kole, who kissed the king's foot,
and knocked his majesty over."
HAN OF ICELAND
241
The bishop resumed his seat deeply moved.
" Come, judges," continued Han of Ice¬
land, "what are you hesitating about? If
I were in your place and you in mine, I would
not keep you so long waiting for your sentence
of death."
The judges retired, but returned after a
short deliberation. The president read a
sentence in a loud voice which, according to
the formula, condemned Han of Iceland to be
hanged by the neck till death should ensue.
"That is all right," said the brigand.
" Chancellor d'Ahlefeld, I know enough about
you to hang you, but live on, as you cause men
so much harm. Well, I am sure now of not
going to Nysthiem," "
The private secretary of the court ordered
the guards to place Han in the Lion of
Sleswig dungeon, while a cell was prepared
for him adjoining the Munckholm musketeers'
quarters.
" In the quarters of the Munckholm mus¬
keteers!" repeated the monster, with a growl
of joy.
XLVI.
Meanwhile the corpse of Ponce de L6on,
which laid near the fountain, having been dis¬
figured by the sun, was stolen by Alpuxare's
Moors who carried it to Grenada.
E. H. —Le Captif d' Ochali.
Meanwhile, before dawn, just about the
time Ordener's sentence was being passed at
Munckholm, Oglypiglap, former assistant to
Benignus Spiagudry, and now his successor as
keeper of the Drontheim Spladgest, was awak¬
ened by several heavy knocks from outside.
He rose reluctantly, swearing at the dazzling
light of his brass lantern and the dampness of
the mortuary, and opened the door to those
who had allowed him so little repose.
Some fishermen presented themselves, bear¬
ing a litter covered with rushes and seaweed,
on which a body lay, that they had found in
Lake Sparbo.
They deposited their burden in the interior
of the edifice, and Oglypiglap gave them a
receipt for the same, in order that they should
claim their reward.
242
HAN OF ICELAND
243
When alone in the Spladgest he began to
strip the corpse of a man remarkable for his
length and thinness. The first thing he
noticed when he raised the sail in which it
was wrapped, was an immense wig.
" Certainly, I have seen this wig before.
Why, it belonged to that elegant young
Frenchman; and here are Postilion Cram-
ner's top-boots, the poor fellow who was
crushed under his horses. What the devil
does this mean ? Here is Professor Syngram-
tax's black coat, the old scholar who lately
drowned himself. Who can this new-comer
be, dressed up in the clothes of all my old
acquaintances?"
He examined the face, but it had lost all
form and feature. He searched the pockets,
and found a slimy old parchment. Wiping it
carefully with his leather apron, he succeeded
in reading these half-effaced words:
" Rudbeck Saxon, the grammarian; Arn-
grim. Bishop of Holum. There are only two
counties in Norway, Larvig, and Jarlberg,
and one barony. There are silver mines at
Kongsberg; loadstone, asbestos at Sund-
Moer; amethysts at Guldbranshal; chalce¬
dony, agates, jasper, in the Faroe Isles. At
Noukahiva, in time of famine, men eat their
wives and children. Thormodus Thorfoeus;
Isleif, Bishop of Scalholt, the first Iceland
244
HAN OF ICELAND
historian. Mercury played at chess with the
moon, and gained the seventy-second part of a
day. Maelstrom, a whirlpool. Hirundo, hirudo.
Cicero; chick-peas: glory. Frode, the scholar.
Odin consulted the head of Mimer, the sage.
(Mahomet and his pigeon. Sertorius and his
goat.) The better the soil, less the gypsum."
"I cannot believe my eyes," cried Ogly-
piglap, letting the parchment fall. " Why, this
is in the writing of my old master, Benignus
Spiagudry.''
Then, examining the corpse more closely,
he recognized the long hands, the scanty hair,
and the body of the unfortunate man.
" They were not far wrong," thought he,
shaking his head, " when they accused him of
sacrilege and necromancy. Satan must have
carried him off, and drowned him in Lake
Sparbo. Who would have imagined that Dr.
Spiagudry, who kept others so long here, in
his hotel for the dead, should one day be
brought here himself."
The philosophical little Laplander was
placing the body on one of the six granite
slabs, when he observed that some heavy
weight was attached with a leather strap to
the unfortunate Spiagudry's neck.
" It is most likely a stone, fastened to his
neck by the devil when he pitched him into
the lake," murmured he.
HAN OF ICELAND
245
He was mistaken, for it proved to be a
small iron casket, upon which on close inspec¬
tion, after having cleaned it, he noticed a
lock covered with an escutcheon.
" There is doubtless some deviltry in this
box," said he. "This man was a sorcerer,
and committed sacrilege. I had better take
the casket to the bishop. There may be a
demon inside."
Then, leaving the corpse in the mortuary,
he carried the casket to the bishop's palace,
muttering some prayers on the way, as a safe¬
guard against the contents of the terrible box
he was carrying.
XLVII.
Is it a man or an infernal spirit who speaks
thus? What unlucky spirit torments you?
Show me the implacable enemy which has pos¬
session of your heart.
Maturin.
Han of Iceland and Schumacker were both
confined in the dungeon of Sleswig. The
ex-chancellor, though proved innocent of the
crime, was nevertheless dwelling bitterly on
his fate, as he walked slowly up and down.
The condemned brigand, guarded on all
sides, only laughed at his chains.
The two prisoners had long been silently
observing each other, innately knowing they
were both enemies to mankind.
"Who are you?" at last inquired the ex-
chancellor of the brigand.
"I will soon tell you my name," answered
the other, "that you may shun me. I am
Han of Iceland."
" Take my hand," said he.
Schumacker stepped towards him.
" Do you want me to devour it?"
246
HAM OF ICELAND
247
"Han of Iceland," answered Schumacker,
" I like you because you detest mankind."
" That's why I hate you !"
" Listen to me. Like yourself, I hate men ;
because I have tried to benefit them, and they
returned me evil for good."
"You cannot abhor them as I do, for they
have benefited me, and I have returned evil
for good."
Schumacker shuddered at the expression of
the monster's face. He could have no bond
of sympathy with a nature like that.
"Yes," continued the ex-chancellor, " I
execrate men because I have found them
knaves, ungrateful and cruel. It is to them I
owe all my misfortunes."
" So much the better. I owe them all my
happiness in life."
'' What happiness ?''
"The joy of feeling their yet breathing
form shrink, as I tear the flesh to pieces with
my teeth, and their warm blood refreshing my
parched lips. What can exceed the pleasure
of smashing human beings against the edge of
rocky corners, and hearing the victims' cries
mingling with the sound of the crushing
bones? Those are the enjoyments men have
given me."
Schumacker was horror-stricken, and step¬
ped back from the monster toward whom he
248
HAN OF ICELAND
had lately approached with such pride, think¬
ing he had met with a kindred spirit. He
now buried his face in his hands, crying with
shame and indignation. The tears were not
shed on account of the human race; but he
was filled with remorse for the feelings he had
himself shown. His noble heart was humili¬
ated at the hatred he had evinced toward men
when he saw it reflected in such a creature as
Han of Iceland.
" Well," said the monster, laughing, " what
does mankind's enemy say now? Do you
still dare to boast that you resemble me ?''
The old man shuddered.
" Oh, God ! rather than hate them as you
do, I would prefer to love them."
The guards came forward to take the mon¬
ster into a more secure cell. Schumacker,
left to himself, sat lost in thought, but he was
no longer an enemy to mankind.
XLVIII.
Do not chastise me, for my crime is his crime.
A. DE ViGNY.
The fatal hour had arrived. The sun had
scarcely risen above the horizon, the guards
were doubled in Munckholm Castle, and
before every door fierce sentinels paced to
and fro. The uproar in the town reached
the gloomy fortress, itself the scene of great
excitement. The crape-muffled drums were
slowly beating, the cannon from the tower
rolled forth at intervals, and the heavy dun¬
geon bell tolled with deep and prolonged
tones. Boats came from every point to the
formidable rock, heavily charged with pas¬
sengers.
' The crowd kept steadily increasing on the
parade, surrounding the scaffold, which was
also draped in black, and well guarded by a
detachment of the military. A man in red
serge was promenading the fatal platform,
occasionally resting on his axe, and trying the
block to test its firmness. Torches were
249
25©
HAN OF ICELAND
burning in front of the scaffold, before which
a stake was placed, bearing a signboard
engraven with these words, Ordener Gulden-
lew, traitor. From the Place d'Amies could
be seen, floating above the donjon of Sleswig,
a large black flag.
Meanwhile Ordener reappeared in the as¬
sembled court, the bishop alone being absent,
as his office for the defense was over.
The viceroy's son was in black, wearing
the collar of the Order of the Dannebrog.
His face was pale, but it bore the same
haughty expression. The condemned man
stood alone, as he had been summoned before
the chaplain, Athanasius Munder, had returned
to the cell.
Although Ordener was prepared for the
sacrifice, still he could not help bitterly re¬
gretting his fate. Ethel's husband would have
chosen a far different ending than the grave
now that he was united to his love. Now
that the time had arrived when he would
shortly be beyond all the prayers and dreams
which had beguiled his prison hours, he trusted
in God and love to give him strength to bear
the trial.
The crowd, wrapped in deep attention, was
more moved than the condemned man him¬
self. His rank and horrible fate awakened
both feelings of envy and pity. Many were
HAN OF ICELAND
251
present at his punishment without knowing
the crime for which he was about to suffer.
It is strange that men should take pleasure
in witnessing the sight of human agony. They
eagerly watched the features of the one about
to die, as though expecting that the wretched
man's eyes would express some revelation
from heaven or hell, or that death would cast
its shadow over him. They go to see how a
man can look whe*n all hope has fled—this
being, full of strength and health, who breathes
and lives like themselves, yet who in a few
short moments will cease to breathe, to live.
He has never injured them, and they pity
him ; but none will venture to help the un¬
fortunate wretch, now on the verge of death,
without being permitted the final gasp, and who
is shortly to be struck off at a single blow—
this life, which society cannot give, yet
ruthlessly takes away, with all the pomp of
judicial murder, tending only to inflame the
imagination of the spectators. Time, with
its indefinite delays, condemns us all to death,
yet it is a strange and grievous sight to watch
the unfortunate being who knows his hour is
nigh.
Ordener was brought into court that he
might be stripped of his rank and honors,
previous to mounting the scaffold. The
assembly was scarcely restored to calmness,
252 HAN OF ICELAND
when the president, commanding that a re¬
spectful silence should be maintained, ordered
the condemned man to remain before him on
bended knee, while he read in a clear, dis¬
tinct tone the following words from the
archives of the Knights of the Dannebrog:
" Christian, by the grace and pity of the
Almighty King of Denmark, Norway, of the
Vandals and of the Goths; Duke of Sleswig,
Holstein, Stormarie, and Of Dytmarsa; Count
of Oldenburg and of Delmenhurst; also on
the proposition of the grand chancellor, created
Count of Griffenfeld (here the president spoke
so rapidly that the name was scarcely heard).
Knight of the royal Order of the Danne¬
brog, founded by our illustrious ancestor,
Saint Waldemar.
" In memory of the Dannebrog standard,
having been sent direct from heaven to our
blessed kingdom.
" It would be against the precepts of this
Divine order if one of its knights were allowed
to abuse with impunity the honor and holy
laws, both of Church and State.
" We order, on his knees before God, any
knight of the order, who has given his soul to
the devil by means of felony or treachery, to
be publicly censured by a judge, and then
forever degraded of his rank as Knight of our
royal Order of Dannebrog."
HAN OF ICELAND
253
The president closed the book.
" Ordener Guldenlew, Baron of Thorwick,
Knight of Dannebrog, you have been guilty
of high treason, a crime for which your head
is to be severed, your body burned, and your
ashes cast to the winds. Ordener Guldenlew,
traitor, you have rendered yourself unworthy
to rank amid the Knights of Dannebrog;
therefore prepare yourself, for I am about to
publicly degrade you in the name of the king.''
Resting his hand on the book of the Order,
the president was going to pronounce the
fatal formula on Ordener, who still remained
calm and unmoved, when a door to the right
of the bench was thrown open, and an usher
announced his reverence the Bishop of the
Drontheimhus.
It was indeed he, the bishop, entering
the hall suddenly accompanied by another
ecclesiastic on whom he leaned.
" Stop ! my lord president," cried he, with
a force beyond his years. " Stop! May
Heaven be praised ! I have arrived in time.''
The assembly listened with renewed atten¬
tion, foreseeing that some fresh event was
about to occur.
The president angrily turned towards the
bishop.
" Your reverence must allow me to remark
that your presence is useless here. The
0
254
HAN or ICELAND
condemned man is on the point of being
degraded, and his last moments are at hand."
"Beware," said the bishop, "of touching
him who is guiltless in the sight of God. This
condemned man is innocent!"
The crowd gave vent to their astonishment,
and their loud exclamations were only ex¬
ceeded by the terrified cries of the president
and the private secretary.
"Yes, tremble, judges!" continued the
bishop, before the president had recovered
his presence of mind; "tremble! for you
were about to shed innocent blood."
Whilst the president's emotion was sub¬
siding, Ordener was in consternation, lest
his generous plan had been frustrated by the
discovery of certain proofs against Schu¬
macher.
"My lord bishop," said the president, "if
this criminal affair pass from hand to hand, it
will escape us altogether. Do not trust to
appearances. If Ordener Guldenlew be inno¬
cent, who, then, is guilty?"
" I will soon make your grace acquainted
with the fact," replied the bishop, then
pointing to an iron casket an attendant was
carrying: "Noble lords, in delivering your
judgments you were utterly in the dark, but
light will dawn when you have seen the con¬
tents of that casket."
HAN OF ICELAND
25s
The president, and the private secretary,
and Ordener, all seemed equally struck with
emotion at the sight of the mysterious box.
The bishop continued:
"Noble judges, hear me. On entering
our palace this day, in order to rest from
the fatigues of the night, and to pray for
those condemned then, this sealed box was
handed to us. The keeper of the Spladgest
had left it at our palace with the injunc¬
tion that it doubtless contained some
Satanic mystery, as he found it on the dead
body of that sacrilegious Benignus Spiagu-
dry, whose corpse was brought in from Lake
Sparbo."
Ordener listened with renewed attention.
The audience maintained strict silence. The
president and the secretary bent their heads
like criminals. Their audacity and cunning
had completely vanished. All power at times
forsakes the wicked.
"After having blessed the casket," pursued
the bishop, " and broke the seal itself, stamped
with the Griffenfeld arms, this box did,
indeed, contain a diabolical secret, the pur¬
port of which you have now the opportunity
of judging, honored lords. I must ask for
your deepest attention, for it is a question of
men's blood, and the Lord weighs every drop
in the scale."
256
HAN OF ICELAND
Then, opening the casket, he brought forth
a parchment, on which was written the follow¬
ing inscription:
"I, Blaxtham Cumbysulsum, doctor, now at the
point of death, do intrust to Captain Dispolsen, of
Copenhagen, ^ent to the former Count of Griffenfeld,
the following document, written entirely by Turiaf
Musdcemon, assistant to the chancellor. Count d'Ahle-
feld. The said captain may make what use he pleases
with the same. I pray God to pardon all my crimes.
At Copenhagen, the eleventh day of January, one
thousand six hundred and ninety-nine.
"Cumbysulsum."
The secretary made an effort to speak, but
he trembled so in every limb that he could not
utter a syllable. The bishop handed the
parchment to the pale and agitated president.
"What do I see here?" cried he, spreading
the document before him. Letter to the
noble Count Ahlefeld, showing what means
should be taken to rid himself legally of Schu¬
macher'—! I swear, reverend bishop ..."
The parchment fell from the president's
hands.
"Read on, read on, my lord," said the
bishop. " I doubt not your unworthy servant
has made use of your name in the same way
he did that of the unfortunate Schumacher.
Only see what your unchristianlike hatred
brought down on your disgraced predecessor.
HAN OF ICELAND
257
One of the courtiers plotted to ruin him in
your name, hoping, doubtless, to find favor in
your grace's eyes."
These words plainly proved to the president
that the bishop knew the contents of the box,
but evidently he did not suspect him. Ordener
breathed more freely as he clearly saw that
Schumacher's innocence and his own would
be proved at the same time. He wondered
at the curious freak of fortune, which impelled
him to go in pursuit of this formidable brigand
for the iron casket, when his guide had it in
his own possession. In fact, he was running
after the casket which was in reality following
him. He pondered on the strangeness of
events, and the fatal box that had led to his
ruin was now to prove the means of saving
him.
The president, having recovered his self-
possession, read a long letter, wherein Musdoe-
mon detailed the abominable plot that he had
so thoroughly carried out. Count d'Ahlefeld
showed signs of the utmost indignation, in
which the audience freely shared. Several
times the clerk rose to defend himself, but he
was universally hooted, and when the docu¬
ment came to a close the people cried with
horror.
"Halberdiers, seize that man!" exclaimed
the president, indicating his private secretary.
258
HAN OF ICELAND
The villain, helpless and speechless, left his
post of honor to take his seat on the bench of
infamy, amidst the howls of the populace.
" My lords judges," said the bishop, " may
tremble, and yet you have cause for rejoicing.
The facts you have just heard can now be
verified by our honored brother, Athanasius
Munder, here present, the prison chaplain of
this royal city."
It was, indeed, Athanasius Munder, who,
at a sign from the president, rose, and, bow¬
ing to the bishop and the bench, said:
" What I am about to assert is strictly true.
May Heaven punish me if I utter a word with
any but the best intent. When I visited the
viceroy's son this morning in his cell, I felt
the young man was not guilty, although your
lordships had convicted him on bis own con¬
fession. A few hours ago I was called upon
to administer the spiritual consolation to the
unhappy mountaineer who was so cruelly
assassinated before your eyes, and whom you
had condemned, honored lords, as Han of
Iceland. This is the confession he made to
me; 'I am not Han of Iceland; I have been
well punished for taking the name. I was paid
for being his substitute by Musdcemon, the clerk
of the court of chancery, who supervised the
whole of the insurrection, under the name of
Hacket. He is the originator and sole cause
HAN OF ICELAND
259
of all.' Then the mountaineer asked me for
my blessing, and implored me to repeat his
words to the court. As God is my witness,
this is nothing but the truth. May I be the
means of saving the innocent, and punishing
the guilty."
The priest ceased, and again bowed to the
bishop and the judges.
" Your grace sees," said the bishop, " that
one of my clients was not far from wrong
when he distinguished the resemblance be¬
tween Racket and your clerk."
" Turiaf Musdcemon," said the president,
" what have you to say in your defense?"
Musdcemon looked at his master in a way
which terrified him. All his assurance had
returned. After a moment's hesitation, he
replied;
" Nothing, my lord."
The president then continued, in a strained
and faint voice;
" You plead guilty, then, to the crime with
which you are charged ? You are the author
of a conspiracy both against the State and an
individual named Schumacker?"
"Yes, my lord," answered Musdcemon.
The bishop rose.
" My lord president, that there may be no
doubt in this affair, will your grace ask the
accused if he had any accomplices?"
26o
han of iceland
"Accomplices!" repeated Musdoemon.
He seemed to reflect for a moment. A
horrible embarrassment shone in the presi¬
dent's countenance.
" No, my lord bishop," said he at last.
The president looked toward him evidently
greatly relieved.
"No, I never had accomplices," continued
Musdoemon more forcibly. "I was the in¬
ventor and promoter of the whole plot,
instigated by one motive—my attachment to
my master, by this means hoping to ruin his
enemy, Schumacher. My master was ignorant
of the conspiracy."
The president and the clerk again exchanged
glances full of meaning.
" Your grace," said the bishop, " must
now be aware that, as Musdoemon had no
accomplices, Ordener Guldenlew cannot be
guilty."
" Reverend bishop, if he were not so, why
did he plead guilty?"
" My lord president, why did that moun¬
taineer persist in calling himself Han of Ice¬
land, even at the peril of his life ? God alone
knows what exists at the bottom of our
hearts."
Ordener spoke.
" Your lordship, now that the real culprit
is discovered, I may confess that I falsely
HAN OF ICELAND
261
accused myself, in order to save Ex-Chan-
cellor Schumacker's life, for by his death his
daughter would have been left without a pro¬
tector."
The president bit his lips.
" We now ask the court," said the bishop,
" to proclaim our client Ordener's inno¬
cence."
The president signed in the affirmative, and
the high syndic requested that the examina¬
tion of the casket should be proceeded with.
It was found to contain nothing except
Schumacker's vouchers and title-deeds, some
few letters of the Munckholm prisoner to
Captain Dispolsen, in which he expressed
himself bitterly, but by no means in a culpable
way likely to create alarm, unless it were to
Chancellor d'Ahlefeld.
The judges, meanwhile, were deliberating,
but shortly came to a decision. While the crowd
on the parade watched in anxious expectation,
the executioner walked carelessly up and down
the scaffold, awaiting the condemned man.
The president's voice was scarcely audible as
he pronounced the judgment which con¬
demned to death Turiaf Musdoemon, and
restored to Ordener Guldenlew his former
position, with all its honors, titles, and privi¬
leges.
XLIX.
For how much will you sell me your carcase,
knave? I will give you, upon my honor, a
golden ducat.
A Mystery—Saint Michel d Satan.
What remained of the regiment of Munck-
holm musketeers was lodged in its old bar¬
racks in the heart of the fortress, surrounding
a large square yard. According to custom,
all doors were barricaded at night, and none
of the soldiers were absent, except the senti¬
nels on duty in the various towers, and those
stationed in front of the military prison, which
adjoined the barracks. The prison, the safest
and best guarded one in Munckholm, was
chosen for the two condemned men, who
were to be hanged in the morning—Han of
Iceland and Musdoemon.
Han of Iceland is lying in chains on the
ground of his cell, with his head resting on
a stone. A faint glimmer shone through the
iron grating in the oaken door, which separates
his cell from his keeper's room, whence he
could hear them swearing and laughing by
turns, to the sound of empty bottles and the
262
HAN OF ICELAND
263
rattling of dice as they cast them on the
drums. The monster silently bit his chains,
stretched forth his limbs in all directions.
Suddenly he raised his voice and called, a
jailer presented himself at the barred opening.
"What do you want?" said he to the
brigand.
"Companion, lam cold; my stone couch
is hard and damp. Give me some straw to
lie on, and a little fire to warm me."
"Well, it is only fair," said the jailer,
" that a poor devil who is going to be hanged
should have his comforts, even though it be
the devil himself. I will bring you what you
want. Have you any money?"
" No," replied the brigand.
" What! Do you mean to tell me that you,
the most famous robber in Norway, have not
some wretched golden ducats in your money
bag?"
" No," answered the brigand.
" A few royal 6cus ?"
" No, I tell you."
" Not even some miserable ascalins?"
" No, no, nothing. Not even enough to
buy a rat's skin or a man's soul."
The jailer shrugged his shoulders.
"That is different," said he. "You ought
not to complain; your cell is not half as cold
as the one you will rest in to-morrow. You
264
HAN OF ICELAND
won't notice the hardness of your bed then I
vow."
Thus saying the jailer withdrew, followed
by the monster's curses, who continued to roll
his chains about with such violence, that some
of the links gave way, thus reducing the
rattling sound.
The oaken door was thrown open, and a tall
man in red serge entered, carrying a dark
lantern. He was accompanied by the warder,
who had refused the prisoner's request. The
latter was now perfectly quiet.
"Han of Iceland," said the man in red,
" I am Nychol Orugix, the Drontheimhus exe¬
cutioner. To-morrow, at the break of day, I
am to have the honor of hanging your excel¬
lency by the neck to a beautiful new gibbet,
just erected in Drontheim square."
"Are you quite sure that you will hang
me?" replied the brigand.
The executioner laughed.
" I wish you were as sure of Jacob's ladder
to heaven as you are of Nychol Orugix's
ladder up to the gibbet."
"Indeed!" said the monster, with a
malicious look.
" I repeat to you, master brigand, that I
am executioner of the province I"
" If I were any man but what I am, I
should wish to be you."
HAN OF ICELAND 265
" I cannot say as much," said the hang¬
man, highly flattered, and proudly rubbing his
hands together. " You are right, my friend,
ours is a noble profession. Ah, how well my
hand can test the weight of a man's head."
" Have you ever drank blood ?" asked the
brigand.
" No, but I have often shed it."
" Have you ever devoured the entrails of a
living little child yet ?"
"No; but I have crushed human bones in
the boot, wrenched limbs out of their sockets
on the wheel, tortured the still breathing body
with red-hot pincers, dried up the blood in the
open veins by means of molten lead or boiling
oil, and I have notched steel saws on many of
those whose skulls I have previously laid bare."
" Yes," said the brigand, with a sigh, " you
also have your pleasures."
" Well, although you are Han of Iceland,
I can say that I have caused more souls to
take their flight than you have, and that with¬
out counting yours to-morrow."
" That is, supposing I have one. Now,
executioner of the Drontheimhus, do you for
one moment believe that you can separate the
soul of Ingulphus from Han of Iceland's
body without forfeiting your own life ?"
The executioner shouted with laughter.
"Ah, indeed ! we shall see to-morrow."
*
266
HAN OF ICELAND
" We shall see !" retorted the brigand.
" Come," said the hangman, " I have not
come here to talk about your soul, but about
your body. Now listen to me. After death
your body rightfully belongs to me, but the
law gives you the privilege of selling it to
me. Now, what do you want for it ?"
"What do I want for my own.corpse?"
said the brigand.
" Yes j and be reasonable."
Han of Iceland turned to the jailer:
" Comrade, tell me what you charge for a
bundle of straw and a little fire?"
The jailer reflected for a moment:
"Two golden ducats," answered he.
" Well," said the brigand to the hangman,
" you will have to pay me two golden ducats
for my corpse."
"Two golden ducats, indeed!" cried the
headsman. "That is horribly dear. Two
whole golden ducats for a vile body. No, cer¬
tainly, Til not give you that sum."
" Then you won't have it," quietly answered
the monster.
" Well, your corpse will be thrown into
the common sewer, instead of forming an
ornament to the Royal Museum at Copen¬
hagen, or being placed among the curiosities
at Berghen."
"What does it matter?"
HAN OF ICELAND
267
" Why, long after your death people will
flock to see your skeleton, exclaiming : ^ There
are the remains of the famous Han of Iceland*
Your bones will be carefully polished, and
kept together with brass pins. You will be
put under a glass case, which will be dusted
every day. Instead of such honors as these,
think of the fate which awaits you if you
refuse to sell me your corpse. You will be
left to decay in some charnel-house, to furnish
food for worms and vultures."
" Well 1 I shall only resemble the living,
who are worried by lesser creatures, and
become the prey of larger ones."
" Two golden ducats!" muttered the execu¬
tioner, viciously; " what exorbitant terms !
if you do not lower your price, my dear Han
of Iceland, we cannot do business together.''
" This is the first and probably the last sale
I shall effect in my life, so I am naturally
anxious to make a good bargain."
" Remember, I can soon make you repent
your obstinacy. To-morrow you will be
entirely in my power."
" And so you think?"
The monster uttered these words in a sig¬
nificant tone, which passed unnoticed by the
executioner.
" Yes; there is a certain way of fixing
the slip-knot. There, if you will only
268
HAN OF ICELAND
be reasonable, I will hang you in a better
fashion."
"I care but little how you may twist my
neck to-morrow," retorted the monster,
jeeringly.
" Come, won't you be satisfied with two
royal crowns? What is the use of them to
you ?"
" Ask your comrade there," said the brigand,
pointing to the jailer. " He wants two golden
ducats for a bundle of straw and a little fuel."
"By St. Joseph's saw! " said the execu¬
tioner, ill-naturedly, "it is awful to ask weight
in gold for some paltry firing and some vile
straw. Two ducats."
The jailer replied sharply :
" I ought to be praised for not asking four.
It is all very well for you to talk. Master
Nychol, but you are a regular screw. Fancy
refusing a poor prisoner two golden ducats for
his corpse, when you will sell it for twenty
ducats, at least, to some scholar or to a
doctor.''
"I have never paid more than fifteen
ascalins," said the hangman.
"Yes, that may be, for the body of a paltry
thief, or a wretched Jew; but every one knows
that you can demand any price for Han of
Iceland's body."
Han of Iceland shrugged his shoulders.
HAN OF ICELAND
269
"What business is it of yours?" said
Orugix, roughly. " Do I interfere with your
pilferings, when you rob the prisoners of their
clothes and jewels, and mix dirty water with
their weak soup ? Do I say a word when you
torture them to extract money? No, I will
not pay two golden ducats."
" No straw and no fuel for less than two
golden ducats," replied the jailer, obstinately.
" No corpse for less than two golden
ducats," calmly added the brigand.
After a moment's silence, the executioner,
with a stamp of the foot, exclaimed:
" Come, I must be off; time flies, and I
am wanted elsewhere."
He took from his vest a leather pouch, he
opened it slowly as though regretfully.
" There, cursed demon of Iceland, take
your two ducats. Satan won't give as much
for your soul as I am paying for your body."
The brigand seized the golden pieces, which
the jailer tried to grasp.
" Not quite so fast, companion ; first hand
me what I bargained for."
The jailer went out, and soon returned with
a bundle of fresh straw and a caldron full of
burning coals, which he placed near the con¬
demned man.
" I am satisfied," said the brigand, throw¬
ing him the two ducats. " That shall warm
*
2^0
HAN OF ICELAND
me to-night. By the by, is not my cell close
to the Munckholm musketeers' barracks ?"
"Yes, you are right," answered the jailer.
" What quarter is the wind in ?"
" In the east, I think.''
"That will do," said the brigand.
"What are you driving at, comrade?"
asked the jailer.
"Nothing," answered the brigand.
"Farewell, comrade, till early to-morrow
morning."
"Yes, till to-morrow," replied the brig¬
and.
And the noise of the heavy closing door
prevented the executioner and his companion
from hearing the wild laughter which followed
these mocking words.
L.
Do you hope to end up with another sin ?
Alex. Soumkt.
Let us now take a glance at the other cell
adjoining the musketeers' barracks, where our
old acquaintance Turiaf Musdcemon was im¬
prisoned.
It seems astonishing that Musdcemon, so
replete with cunning and artifice, should
readily confess his crime before the court in
which he had been condemned, and should so
generously withhold the part his ungrateful
master. Chancellor d'Ahlefeld, had taken
throughout. One thing was certain—Musdce¬
mon was in no way changed. This seeming
generosity was only a further proof of his
wonderful ability. When he knew that his
infernal machinations were discovered, he was
completely dumfounded; but this feeling soon
passed off. He plainly perceived that, as he
had, no chance of ruining his former victims,
he must take the best means of saving him¬
self. He saw but two ways of doing so—
either to cast the whole blame on Count
271
272
HAN OF ICELAND
d'Ahlefeld for his share in the crime, or to
take all the consequences on his own shoulders.
An ordinary person would have decided on
the first course, but Musdcemon chose the
second. The chancellor was a chancellor,
and there was nothing really compromising in
the documents. It was otherwise with the
clerk. The proofs against him were over¬
whelming. The looks which the latter had
exchanged with the president also helped to
determine him, and he felt assured Count
d'Ahlefeld would effect his escape; not from
gratitude for past assistance, but in hopes of
future services.
He paced his dimly lighted cell, fully con¬
vinced that he would be set free that night.
He examined this old stone dungeon, which
had been constructed in the days of some of
the ancient monarchs, whose names were lost
to history. The culprit was astonished to find
himself on a wooden flooring, that echoed
every step, as though it were placed over
some cavity. He noticed a large iron ring in
the arched roof, from which an old piece of
rope was dangling. As time passed, he
listened impatiently to the tower clock strik¬
ing the different hours, which echoed dismally
through the weary watches of the night.
At length he heard footsteps approaching,
his heart beat with hope. The enormous lock
HAN OF ICELAND
273
creaked, the bolts moved, and the chains fell;
then as the door opened, his face beamed
with joy.
The same individual in scarlet we left
with Han, now entered with a coil of rope
in his hand. He was followed by four hal¬
berdiers, in black uniform, and fully armed
with swords and pikes.
Musdoemon was still in his legal wig and
gown, which evidently had an imposing effect
on the man in red, who immediately bowed
respectfully, according to custom.
"My lord," said he, hesitatingly to the
prisoner, "is it with your worship that we
have to do business ?"
"Yes, yes," replied Musdoemon, hoping
this polite address was the prelude to his
release, for he had not perceived the style of
his visitor's costume.
"You call yourself," said the man, fixing
his eyes on the open parchment before him,
" Turiaf Musdoemon ?''
" Precisely; you have been sent by the
grand chancellor?"
" Yes, your excellency."
" Do not fail to express my gratitude to
his grace, after you have carried out your
orders."
The man in red looked astonished.
" Your—^gratitude 1"
274
HAN OF ICELAND
" Yes, certainly, my friends; for I probably
cannot do so myself for some time to come."
" 'Probably'!" echoed the man, ironically.
"And you quite understand," pursued
Musdoemon, " that I must not show myself
ungrateful for so great a service."
"By the cross of the penitent thief," cried
the other, with a hoarse laugh, " to hear your
worship, any one would think that the
chancellor was bestowing a real favor on
you."
" No doubt about it. After all, he is only
rendering me strict justice."
" Strict justice it may be. You do then
allow that it is strict justice ? This is the first
time during the twenty years I have been in
office that I have heard such an avowal. Come,
my lord, all these words are but a waste of
time. Are you ready ?"
"I am," said Musdoemon joyfully, making
for the door.
"Wait, wait a moment," said the man in
red, dropping his coil of rope.
Musdoemon stopped.
" What is all that rope for ?"
" Your worship has every reason to put that
question. I have certainly too much rope by
half. At the trial I thought I should have
more criminals to pass through my hands."
Thus speaking the man uncoiled his rope.
Han of iceland
275
" Now, let us hasten," said Musdoemon.
" Your worship is in a great hurry; would
you not like to say a prayer or two?"
" No other than the one I have already said
to you—tender my best thanks to his grace.
For God's sake, do not linger here," added
Musdcemon. " I am anxious to leave. Have
we very far to go?"
"Far to go?" repeated the man in red,
taking his measurement of the rope. "The
length of the route cannot greatly fatigue your
worship, as it ends here."
Musdoemon shuddered.
" What do you mean ?"
" What do you mean yourself?" returned
the other.
" Oh, God !" exclaimed the horror-stricken
Musdoemon, now dimly aware of the truth.
" Who are you ?"
" I am the hangman."
The poor wretch trembled like a parched
leaf in the wind.
" Have you not come to aid my escape ?"
murmured he, almost inaudibly.
The hangman shouted with laughter.
" Yes, indeed, I have come to help you to
the Spirit land, whence no one, I vow, will
ever call for you."
Musdoemon threw himself on the ground.
" Mercy ! mercy! pray have pity on me 1"
0
276
HAN OF ICELAND
"By niy faith," said the hangman coldly,
" this is the first time such a request has been
made on me. Do you take me for the king ?"
The miserable man, who was lately so joy¬
ful, crawled in the dust, rolled his head from
side to side, and amidst his tears and sobs he
kissed the hangman's feet.
" Come, be still," said the man. "I never
yet saw the black gown humble itself before
my red blouse."
He gave the pleader a kick.
" Now, comrade, pray God and the saints
for help; they will pay more heed to you than
I shall."
Musdcemon remained kneeling, with his
head buried in his hands, crying bitterly. By
stretching himself, the hangman had succeeded
in running the rope through the ring under
the arch. He gave it a double twist, to make
it firm, and prepared a slip-knot at the other
end.
"I have finished." When these horrible
preparations were complete, he said: "Have
you also ended with life ?''
" No," answered Musdcemon, rising; " this
must be some terrible mistake, for Chancellor
d'Ahlefeld cannot be so vile. Besides, I am
essential to him. It is impossible you have
been sent to execute me. Aid me to escape,
or fear the chancellor's anger."
HAN OF ICELAND
277
" Did you not say that you were Turiaf
Musdoemon ?" asked the hangman.
The prisoner hesitated in silence for a
moment:
" No," said he suddenly, " my name is not
Musdcemon, but Turiaf Orugix."
" Orugix !" exclaimed the hangman. " Oru¬
gix?"
He quickly pulled off the wig which hid the
face of the condemned man, and gave a
stupefied shout:
"My brother!"
"Your brother 1" repeated the prisoner
joyfully, though a little shame was apparent in
the avowal; "are you ..."
" Nychol Orugix, executioner of the
Drontheimhus, at your service, brother
Turiaf."
The condemned man threw his arms round
the executioner's neck, calling him "his
brother, his dear brother 1" A witness would
in no way have been affected by this show of
brotherly affection, for Turiafs method of
pleasing was evidently only for the occasion,
and fear had much to do with the smiles he
lavished on his brother. Nychol looked
gloomy and embarrassed. The scene reminded
one of a tiger fawning on an elephant, when
the monster's heavy foot weighs on its body
and is about to crush him. g
278
HAN OF ICELAND
" This is fortunate, brother Nychol. I am
delighted to see you again."
"And I am sorry for you, brother Turiaf."
The prisoner pretended not to hear, and
continued, in a trembling voice:
"You have doubtless a wife and children.
You must take me to see my charming sister,
and let me embrace my dear nephews."
"By Satan's cross!" muttered the hang¬
man.
" I will be a second father.to them. Brother,
listen to me. I am powerful; I have influ¬
ence ..."
The brother answered in a sinister accent:
"I know you had. At present you need
only think of the influence you have no doubt
managed to secure for yourself with the
saints.''
The condemned man now gave up all hope.
" Oh, God! what can you mean, dear
Nychol? Surely, now that I have found you,
I am saved? You and I are sons of the
same mother. We shared games in childhood;
and remember, Nychol, you are my brother."
"You never remembered it until now,"
retorted the savage Nychol.
"No, but it is not possible that I should
die by my brother's hand."
"Well, it's your own fault, Turiaf. You
stopped my career, and prevented me from
HAN OF ICELAND
279
being royal executioner at Copenhagen, so
here I am nothing but a wretched headsman
of a province. If you had not acted as a bad
brother, you would not have had to complain
of my conduct, which now so disgusts you. I
should not have been in the Drontheimhus,
and another would liave done service for you.
Brother, we have said quite enough about it,
and you must die."
Death to the wicked is fearful to contem¬
plate, while to the good it seems but rest.
Both must leave this mortal coil. The just
man views it as a release from his prison-
house; while to the wicked it appears like
being dragged from a fortress. Hell reveals
itself to the perverted soul, which had thought
to end in nothingness; and when the spirit
stays for a moment at death's door, it finds
that its hopes of a void have fled.
The prisoner writhed on the floor, tossed
his arms wildly about, and gave the most
heart-rending cries, more fearful to hear than
the eternal lament of the condemned soul.
" Merciful God ! saints of heaven ! if you
exist, have pity on me. Nychol, my Nychol, in
the name of our mother, oh, pray, let me live."
The hangman showed his official mandate.
" I cannot; the order is precise."
"This document cannot concern me,"
stammered the despairing prisoner. '' It relates
28o
han of iceland
to a certain Musdoeinon, and I am Turiaf
Orugix."
"You are making game of me," said
Nychol, with a shrug of the shoulders. " Why,
I know it means you. Besides," he added,
harshly, "yesterday you would not have
owned to your brother that you were Turiaf
Orugix, and to-day you were only Turiaf
Musdoemon to him."
"Brother! my brother!" pursued the
wretched man; "well, then, just wait till
to-morrow. It is impossible the grand chan¬
cellor can have sent my death-warrant. It is
some fearful mistake. Count d'Ahlefeld has
real affection for me. Spare my life, I implore
you, my dear Nychol. I shall soon regain my
former influence, and I will amply requite you
for this service."
"You can only render me one, Turiaf,"
interrupted the hangman. " I have already
lost two executions, on which I firmly relied—
that of ex-Chancellor Schumacher and the
viceroy's son. I am so unfortunate. The
only two now remaining are those of the
demon and yourself. As your execution is to
be conducted in secret at night, it will bring
me in twelve golden ducats. The only favor I
expect from you is to let me finish all quietly."
" Oh, God!" cried the condemned man, in
his agony.
HAN OF ICELAND
281
" This is really the first concession, and it
shall be the last I shall ever require from you.
In return, I promise that you shall not suffer
much. I will hang you in all brotherly feel¬
ing ; so resign yourself.''
Musdoemon rose. His lips were blue, and
trembling with anger, his teeth chattered, and
he foamed at the mouth.
" By satan ! to think I should have saved
this d'Ahlefeld, and embraced my brother,
and in return they would kill me. I am then
to die at night in this dark, lonesome cell,
without making my curses resound from one
end of the kingdom to the other. And must
I leave all their crimes unmasked ? Was
it for such a death as this that I sullied
the whole of my life? Wretch," said he,
turning to his brother, " would you be a
fratricide?"
"I am executioner," replied the phleg¬
matic Nychol.
" No, I will not die such a death as this,"
continued he, with flaming eyes, throwing
himself with fury on the hangman, like an
enraged bull at bay. " I have not lived like
the dreaded serpent that I should now be
crushed like a worm. I die, but the last sting
shall be deadly."
Thus speaking, he grasped in enmity the
one he had so lately embraced as a brother.
282
HAN OF ICELAND
The fawning and affectionate Musdoeinon
showed himself in his true colors. He felt
the very depths of despair, and after crawling
along as a tiger, he rose with all the fury of
that wild beast. While the brothers were
thus struggling, it would have been difficult to
determine which was the most frightful to
witness—he who fought with all the blind
ferocity of a savage animal, or the other, who
battled with all the cunning fury of a devil.
But the four halberdiers, hitherto impassible,
soon interfered, and Musdoemon was compelled
to give way. He threw himself against the
stones with smothered cries, and tore his nails
on the stones.
"Am I to die, you devils of perdition?
Die! without my cries resounding through
these vaults, and all my efforts to be released
from these walls prove in vain ?"
He was seized, and offered no resistance;
he was utterly exhausted by his useless struggle.
In order to pinion him, his gown had to be
taken off, and a sealed packet fell to the
ground.
"What is that?" said the hangman.
An expression of infernal hope came into
the prisoner's eyes.
"How could I have forgotten that?"
muttered he. " Listen to me, brother Nychol,''
said he, in a friendly tone, "those papers
HAK OF ICELAND
283
belong to the grand chancellor. Promise to
deliver them to him, and then do what you
like with me.''
" Now that you are quiet again, I promise
to carry out your last wishes, although you
have certainly acted in a most unbrotherly
way toward me. On Grugix's honor, those
papers shall be delivered to the chancellor."
" Hand them to him yourself," said the
condemned man, with a strange smile, which
the hangman did not understand, as smiles
were not much in his way. " The pleasure
they will cause his grace may lead to your
future advancement."
" Indeed, brother !" said Orugix. " Thank
you. Perhaps I may be named royal execu¬
tioner. What say you? Well, let us part
friends. I forgive you the wounds you
inflicted on me with your nails, and you
forgive me the rope collar I am about to place
on you."
" The chancellor promised me another kind
of collar," replied Musdoemon.
Then the halberdiers led him, completely
pinioned, to the centre of the cell; the hang¬
man passed the fatal noose round his neck.
' "Turiaf, are you ready?"
" One minute, just a minute more," im¬
plored the condemned man, whose fears had
returned with double force. " Have mercy,
284
HAN OF ICELAND
brother, pray j do not pull the rope until I
tell you."
" I have no need to pull the rope," replied
Orugix.
After a minute's silence, he repeated the
question:
"Are you ready?"
" Only another minute. Alas ! must I then
die?"
" Turiaf, I have no time for waiting."
While thus speaking he motioned to the
halberdiers to draw back.
" Just a word more, brother. Do not fail
to deliver that packet to Count d'Ahlefeld."
"Be quite easy on that score," replied his
brother; and then for the third time he re¬
peated the question : " Come, are you ready?"
The miserable wretch was again about to
speak, doubtless to implore a moment's re¬
prieve, when the impatient hangman stooped
and pressed a brass button which was fixed in
the floor.
The planks fell asunder, and the unfortunate
man fell into a square trap beneath, amid the
vibrations of the rope so suddenly weighed
down, which swayed with the convulsions of
the dying man. Nothing but the rope was
visible without the gloomy pit, from which
the sound of a fresh breeze and running water
could be distinctly heard.
HAN OF ICELAND
285
The halberdiers even drew back in horror.
The hangman neared the pit, and seizing the
cord which still vibrated, lowered himself
until he stood on the shoulders of the victim.
The fatal cord stretched and became steady.
A smothered sigh came from the trap.
" Good," said the hangman, climbing back
into the cell. " Farewell, brother."
He drew a cutlass from his belt.
" Go feed the fishes in the gulf. May your
body be the prey of the waters whilst your
soul be that of fire.''
At these words he cut the stretched cord.
The part fastened to the ring flew up to the
roof, whilst the body fell into the well and
continued underground to the gulf.
The hangman closed the trap as he had
opened it. When he stood up, he saw that
the cell was full of smoke.
" What is this?" he asked the halberdiers;
"whence comes this smoke ?"
They were as ignorant as he. Surprised, they
opened the door of the cell; the corridors were
likewise full of heavy sickening smoke. A
secret door passage led them, thoroughly
alarmed, to the square court, where a frightful
spectacle awaited them.
An immense sheet of flame, fanned by
the violence of the east wind, was devouring
the military prison and the barracks of the
286
HAN OF ICELAND
musketeers. It burst through the roof and
windows and around the walls. The black
towers of Munckholm were sometimes red¬
dened by the glare and sometimes hidden in
the smoke.
A jailer who came running into the court
told them in a few words that the fire had
started, during the sleep of Han of Iceland's
guards, in the monster's cell, to whom some
one had been so imprudent as to give straw
and fire.
"How unlucky I am!" cried Orugix
when he heard this; "see, even Han of Ice¬
land will escape me! The wretch will be
burned, and I will not even have his body,
although I paid two ducats for it."
Meanwhile the unfortunate Munckholm
musketeers, suddenly awakened to their deadly
peril, rushed to the heavy door so firmly
barricaded. Their cries of anguish and dis¬
tress could be heard from within. Some were
at the fiery windows wringing their hands,
others threw themselves into the yard, re¬
solved to meet one death rather than face the
other. The whole edifice was in flames before
the rest of the garrison could arouse. All help
was vain. Fortunately the building was isolated.
When they at length succeeded in bursting open
the massive door, all was over. At that very
moment the roof came down with a crash on
HAN OF ICELAND
287
the unfortunate soldiers, bringing down in
its fall the whole of the burning building.
Nothing could be seen, but from the midst
of the fierce flames some feeble shouts could be
heard.
The next morning, the blackened frag¬
ments of the walls alone were left among the
smouldering ashes. When search was made,
calcined bones and disfigured lifeless bodies
were found among the ruins. Only thirty
soldiers remained alive of the fine Munckholm
regiment, and most of these were wounded.
When, in clearing away the ddbris of the
prison, they came to the fatal cell where the
fire started and which had contained Han of
Iceland, they found the remains of a human
body, lying near an iron brazier, upon broken
chains. It was only observed that among
these cinders there were two skulls, although
there had been only one body.
LI.
Saladin.—Bravo, Ibrahim! You are truly a bearer of
good tidings; I thank you for your good news.
The Mameluke.—Good! But is that all ?
Saladin.—For what do you wait?
The Mameluke.—So there is nothing more for the
hearer of good tiding^.
Lessing—Nathan the Good.
Pale and haggard, Count d'Ahlefeld paced
his apartment; he crushed in his clenched
hands a packet of letters which he had just
read, and stamped his foot on the polished
marble floor and the golden fringed carpets.
At the other end of the apartment was
standing albeit in an attitude of deep respect,
Nychol Orugix, dressed in his infamous
purple, and hat in hand.
" You have rendered me a service, Musdoe-
mon," the chancellor muttered behind his
breath with suppressed rage.
The hangman timidly raised his stupid
face.
"Your grace is satisfied?"
"What do you want, you?" said the
chancellor, turning roughly.
288
HAN OF ICELAND
289
The hangman, proud to have attracted the
chancellor's notice, beamed with hope.
" What do I wish, your grace? The place
of executioner at Copenhagen, if your grace
deigns to reward with that high favor the good
news which I have brought."
The chancellor called two halberdiers of
the guard to the door of his apartment.
** Seize that scoundrel! He has had the
insolence to set me at defiance."
The two guards dragged the dismayed
Nychol off, he tried to say a few more words.
"My lord . . ."
" From this moment you cease to be exe¬
cutioner of the Drontheimhus; I cancel your
appointment," exclaimed the chancellor,
slamming the door.
The chancellor read and re-read these
letters from the Countess to Musdoemon, sure
proofs of Elph^ge's dishonor, as they were in
her own handwriting. He is now fully aware
that Ulrica is not his daughter, and the still
lamented Frederick was perhaps likewise not
his son. With the unhappy count pride had
brought its own punishment—this failing had
been the mainspring of all his crimes. It was
no small matter to see his plans of vengeance
entirely frustrated ; but nothing compared to
the knowledge that his dreams of ambition
could never be realized—^his past dishonored,
390
HAN OF ICELAND
his future a total blank. In vainly trying
to ruin his enemies he has only succeeded
in losing his own reputation, his chief
adviser, and even his rights as husband and
father.
He resolves to see once more the wretched
creature who had deceived him. He passed
through the spacious rooms with rapid steps,
shaking the letters with fury, until he arrived
at Elph^ge's door. In his rage he threw it
violently open.
His guilty wife had suddenly heard the news
of her son Frederick's horrible death from
Colonel Voethaiin. The unfortunate mother
was mad.
CONCLUSION
What I said in a joke, yon have taken
seriously.
Spanish Romance—King Alphome to Bernard.
During the next fortnight the late events
formed the sole topic of conversation through¬
out the Drontheimhus. The crowd collected
in town, who had vainly waited in hopes of
witnessing seven executions, now began to
despair of having the pleasure.
Old women, half blind, averred that on the
night of the incendiarism they had seen Han
of Iceland fly away in the flame, laughing in
the midst of the fire, as he hurled the burning
roof on the Munckholm musketeers.
After a short absence, which to Ethel
seemed ages, Ordener returned to the Lion
of Sleswig Tower, accompanied by General
Levin de Knud and the chaplain, Athanasius
Munder.
Schumacher was in the garden, leaning on
his daughter's arm. The newly-married couple
had to content themselves with exchanging a
loving look. Schumacher pressed the young
291
#
292
HAN OF ICELAND
man's hand affectionately, and bowed cordially
to the two strangers.
"Young friend," said the old captive,
"may Heaven bless your return."
"My lord," replied Ordener, "I have just
left my father at Berghen, and I have come to
embrace my father at Drontheim."
" What can you mean ?" inquired the old
man, astonished.
"Will you give me your daughter, my noble
lord?"
" My daughter !" exclaimed the prisoner,
turning toward the flushed and trembling
Ethel.
" Yes, my lord. I love your Ethel; I have
devoted my whole life to her; she is truly
mine."
Schumacher's brow darkened.
" My son, you are most noble and worthy;
and though your father injured me, I freely
forgive him for your sake. I would gladly
sanction this union, if it were not for one
great obstacle."
"What is that?" said Ordener, anxiously.
" You love my daughter; but are you really
sure she loves you?"
The lovers gave each other a surprised
glance.
"Yes," continued Schumacher, "I regret
that it should be so, as I am attached to you.
HAN OF ICELAND
293
and nothing would please me more than to
know you were my son. But my daughter
will not consent. Since your departure
she recently expressed her aversion to you,
and whenever I mentioned your name she
tried in every way to turn the conversation,
as though the subject were distasteful to her.
Ordener, give up this idea. Believe me, love
has its curse as well as hatred."
" My lord !" exclaimed Ordener, stupefied.
" Father," said Ethel, imploringly, with
clasped hands.
" My child, do not distress yourself," inter¬
posed the old man. "I approve of this
marriage, but the idea seems displeasing to
you. I will not wound your feelings, Ethel;
a great change has come over me during the
last fortnight. I will not attempt to over¬
come your repugnance for Ordener. You are
free."
Athanasius Munder smiled.
"She is not," said he.
"You are mistaken, noble father," added
Ethel boldly. " I do not hate Ordener."
" What!" cried the father.
"lam . . ." replied Ethel. She stopped.
Ordener knelt before the old man.
" She is my wife, father ! Pardon me as
my other father has already pardoned me, and
bless your children."
294
HAN OF ICELAND
Schumacker, astonished in turn, blessed the
young couple kneeling before him.
" I have had so much cursing in my life,"
said he, " that I now seize, without any
questioning, all occasions for blessing. But
now explain to me . . ."
They explained all to him. He wept
tenderly from gratitude and love.
" I thought myself clear-sighted, I am old,
and I have not understood a young girl's
heart."
"I am to call myself Ordener Gulden-
lew's !" said Ethel with childish joy.
"Ordener Guldenlew," continued old
Schumacker, " you are a far better man than
I ever was, for, in my prosperity, I would
certainly never have degraded myself by
uniting with me the poor and degraded
daughter of an unfortunate outlaw."
The general took the prisoner's hand and
gave him a roll of parchment:
" My lord count, do not speak thus. Here
are your titles which the king had already
sent to you by Dispolsen. His majesty has
given you pardon and liberty as a dowry for
the Countess of Danneskiold, your daughter.''
" Pardon ! Liberty!" repeated Ethel, over¬
joyed.
"Countess of Danneskiold!" added the
father.
HAN OF ICELAND • 295
"Yes, count," continued the general, " you
recover all your honors, all your property is
restored."
"To whom do I owe all that?" asked the
happy Schumacker.
"To General Levin de Knud," answered
Ordener.
" Levin de Knud! Then I was right.
Governor General, Levin de Knud, is the best
of men. But why has he not himself come to
bring me this happiness? Where is he?"
Ordener pointed with astonishment to the
general who was smiling and weeping at the
same time:
" There he is !"
The meeting of those two old companions
of youth and greatness was a touching scene.
Schumacher's heart at last gave vent to his
feelings. In meeting Han of Iceland he had
ceased to hate men; in meeting Ordener and
Levin he learned to love them.
Soon fine feasts solemnized the marriage in
the cell. Life began to smile on the young
'couple who had smiled on death. Count
d'Ahlefeld saw them happy: it was his cruelest
punishment.
Athanasius Munder also had his joy. He
obtained the pardon of his twelve criminals,
and Ordener added that of his old companions
in misfortune, Kennybol, Jonas and Norbith,
0
296
HAN OF ICELAND
who returned free and joyful to the peaceful
miners to announce that the king had remitted
the tax.
Schumacher did not long enjoy the union
of Ethel and Ordener; liberty and happiness
had upset his mind: he went to enjoy other
happiness and other liberty. He died in the
same year, 1699, sorrow taught the
young people that there is no perfect happi¬
ness on earth. He was buried in the church
at Veer, in ground in Jutland, owned by his
son-in-law, and the tomb bore all his titles
which captivity had taken away from him.
The alliance of Ordener and Ethel founded
the future family of the Counts of Danne-
skiold.
NOTES
' Name of the morgue at Drontheim.
' Bird which gives eiderdown. The Norwegian
peasants make nests for them in order that they may
surprise, and pluck them.
'Odelsrecht, a singular law by which Norwegian
peasants had a right to repurchase their holdings,
by giving notice to that effect every ten years, thus
preventing the present tenant from disposing of the
same.
* Bran bread eaten by the poorer class in Norway.
® Bloodright, perquisite of the headsman.
* The waters of Lake Sparbo are renowned for tem¬
pering steel.
' Frederick III. was the dupe of Borch or Borrichius,
a Danish chemist, and, above all, of Borri, a Milanese
charlatan, who called himself the favorite of the arch¬
angel Michael. This impostor, after having astonished
Strasbourg and Amsterdam with his pretended prodigies,
enlarged the sphere of his ambition and the audacity of
his deceits ; after having cheated the people, he dared
to cheat kings. He commenced with Queen Christine
at Hamburg and ended with Frederick at Copenhagen.
®The sea dogs are dreaded by fishermen, because
they frighten the fish.
®The ancient lords of Norway, before Grififenfeld
founded a regular nobility, bore the titles of Aersa,
baron, or jarl, count. The English word earl is de¬
rived from the latter.
297
*
298
HAN OF ICELAND
The fisherman's patron.
Grave differences indeed took place between Den¬
mark and Sweden because C^unt d'Ahlefeld had asked
a treaty giving to the king of Denmark the title rex
Gothorum, which seemed to attribute to the Danish
monarch the sovereignty of Gothland, a Swedish
province ; whilst the Swedes only wished to grant him
the title of rex Gotorum, a vague denomination equiv¬
alent to the ancient title of the Danish sovereigns, king
of the Goths. It was this h, the cause, not of a war,
but of long and menacing negotiations, to which
Schxunacker no doubt alluded.
" Some chroniclers assert that in 1525 a Bishop of
Borglum rendered himself famous by various brigand¬
ages. He was in league, it was said, with the pirates
who infested the coast of Norway.
" According to popular belief Nysthiem was the hell
to which all went who died of sickness or old age.
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