Part 6 (1/2)
”That is the Wald Horn; this is the Tiefenthal. There you see the cascade of the Steinbach; it has stopped running now, and hangs like an ice cloak over the shoulder of the Harberg,--a cold garment for this season of the year. Down there is the path that leads to Tubingen; a fortnight more and we shall have difficulty in tracing it.”
An hour pa.s.sed thus; I could not tear myself away from the scene.
A few birds of prey, with gracefully hollowed wings, were sailing about the tower; a flock of herons flew above them, escaping their claws by reason of their loftier flight. Not a cloud was visible in the sky; all the snow had fallen to earth. The hunting-horn saluted the mountain for the last time.
”That is my friend Sebalt mourning down there,” said Sperver. ”No one is a better judge of horses and dogs than he, and when it comes to sounding the horn, there is not his equal in all Germany. Just hear how mellow those notes are, Gaston. Poor Sebalt! he is pining away since our master became ill; he cannot hunt as he used to. His only consolation is to climb the Altenberg every morning just at daybreak, and play the Count's favorite airs. He thinks that may cure him.”
Sperver, with the tact of a man who himself loves beautiful things, had not interrupted my contemplation; but when, dazzled by the growing light, I turned back into the chamber, he said:
”Gaston, things look more encouraging; the Count has had no return of the convulsions.”
These words brought me back to a more practical world.
”Ah, I am glad to hear it.”
”And it is your doing, too.”
”Mine? I haven't even prescribed anything yet.”
”What of that? You are here.”
”You're joking, Gideon; what could my mere presence accomplish?”
”You bring him good luck.”
I looked at him closely; he was in earnest.
”Yes,” he repeated seriously; ”you are a bringer of good luck. In past years, our master has had a second attack the day after the first, and then a third, and fourth; but you have prevented this and arrested the course of the malady. That is clear enough.”
”Not to my mind, Sperver. On the contrary, I find it exceedingly obscure.”
”We are never too old to learn,” continued the worthy fellow. ”There are forerunners of good fortune and harbingers of ill. Take that rascal Knapwurst, for example; he is a sure sign of bad luck. If ever I happen to run across him as I am going out hunting, I am sure to meet with some accident; my gun misses fire, I sprain my ankle, or a dog gets ripped open. Knowing this, I always take care to set off just at daybreak, before the scamp, who sleeps like a dormouse, has got his eyes open; or else I steal through the postern gate.”
”A wise precaution; but your ideas seem odd to me, Gideon.”
”But you, on the other hand,” he continued without noticing my interruption, ”are an open-hearted, honest lad. Heaven has bestowed many blessings upon you; just one glance at your good-natured face, your frank gaze, and your kindly smile, is enough to make any one happy. And you bring good luck; that is certain. Do you want a proof of what I say?”
”Why, certainly. I am not sorry to discover that I possess so many hitherto unknown virtues.”
”Well,” said he, seizing my wrist, ”look down there!”
He pointed to a hillock a couple of gunshots distant from the Castle.
”Do you see that rock half buried in the snow, with a bush to the left of it?”
”Distinctly.”
”And you see nothing near it?”
”No.”