Part 8 (1/2)
CHAPTER XII.
The Castle de Werve presented all the appearances of ancient opulence; but also of dilapidation dating from a long time back. There was the feudal drawbridge, immovable through long disuse, leading straight to the large gate, full of those iron rivets used in olden times as a defence against the attacks of the hatchet and pike. But the wood itself was rotting, and the rusty hinges could scarcely sustain their accustomed weight. In the tumbledown walls I could see loopholes large enough for a giant to creep through.
The house had been rebuilt in the time of the Stadtholder William III.--King William III. of England--and the rich, solemn style then in vogue had been adopted. There was a sort of rotunda in the centre, kept, relatively speaking, in better repair than the rest of the building, flanked by two wings, which seemed uninhabited, and in fact so neglected as to be uninhabitable. Most of the panes were cracked or broken, and only in some cases had the broken gla.s.s been replaced by gray paper. The aloe-trees, set out to ornament the front of the house, were planted for the greater part in cracked or broken vases.
As Francis had remarked, before I could follow her into the house ”half the garrison turned out” to salute us in the person of the Captain, whom I immediately recognized from the description I had had of him. He wore a blue jacket and trousers, a waistcoat b.u.t.toned close up to his chin, and the military black-leather collar, which he had not yet been able to dispense with. The William's Order [3]
adorned his breast; and he stood erect in spite of his stiff leg, which obliged him to support himself with a stick. He had placed his cap jauntily and soldier-like on one side of his head, and his entire bearing called up the idea of a military man only half at his ease in civilian dress. Though deep in the fifties, his hair is still jet black, and the length and stiffness of his mustachios, a la Napoleon, indicate a constant use of cosmetics. His face is very red, his eyes brown and bold, his features rude, and his thick red lips and short round chin give him a sensual appearance. He had in his mouth a long German pipe, from which he puffed clouds of smoke, and after a military salute he accosted us in these words--
”Well, Major, what's this? Have you made a prisoner? or is this some one to be quartered on us?”
”A visitor for the General, Captain,” replied Francis, stepping past him, and giving me a hint to follow her.
”Had a deuced bad luncheon! Waited half an hour for the Freule; the eggs too hard, the beefsteak like leather, his Excellency out of humour--and all this because the Freule takes it into her head to ride out at inconvenient hours, and return on foot to the fortress leading the hero of this pretty adventure in triumph behind her,” growled the Captain, in a half-angry, half-jesting tone, as he followed us.
Francis turning round said--
”All this, Captain, is because your Major--you understand me, your Major--has had the pleasure of meeting with her cousin, Jonker Leopold van Zonshoven; let that suffice you, and if you have any more complaints, put them in your report-book.”
After this I followed Francis through the vestibule, where a servant received us with a military salute, and showed us into an immense drawing-room hung with embossed gilt leather. Here the General was taking a nap in a high-backed easy-chair. Francis entered the room softly enough, but the loud heavy step of the Captain, who thought fit to follow us, awoke the sleeper with a start.
Instead of the pourfendeur I had conjured up in my fancy from old Aunt Roselaer's accounts, I perceived a little, thin, grey-headed old man, the traits of whose face showed him to be a person of superior breeding, wrapped in a very threadbare damask dressing-gown. His nose was long and straight, his lips thin and pale, his eyes of a soft blue, with an expression of lethargy or fatigue. His white, dry hands had very prominent veins; and he wore a large signet-ring, with which he kept playing in a nervous, agitated manner all the time he was speaking.
Francis introduced me in her own peculiar way--
”Grandfather, I bring you Jonker Leopold van Zonshoven, to whom you must give a hearty welcome, for he is a curiosity in our family.”
”In our family! Jonker van Zonshoven--ah! yes, I remember, I understand,” he said, in a surprised and embarra.s.sed tone, which proved his recollection to be of the vaguest; but he bowed politely, and offered me his hand, which I shook cordially.
”Sit down, Jonker,” he said, pointing to a chair behind which the Captain stood as if he intended to dispute the place with me.
Francis rang the bell, and asked Fritz if the luncheon were still on the table.
The servant, with a surprised look, answered--
”It is half-past one.”
”Right, Fritz. It is the rule of the house: he who is not here at roll-call is not expected. Bring a plate of cold meat and bread into this room.”
”And a gla.s.s of port-wine for the gentleman,” put in the Captain.
When Fritz had left the room, the Captain came and stood straight before me, saying--
”Pardon me, Jonker, I must have a good look at you. There must be something peculiar in a young man who has so quickly found favour in the eyes of our Major.”
I hesitated about giving him the answer he deserved in the presence of the General; and, besides, Francis had warned me he was a man of no education.