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Page 82
"To be sure! You may see the ruins from here, about two gunshots
distant."
Master Bernard looked out, and really did recognise the ruins of Nideck,
just as he had described them in the twenty-fourth chapter of his
_History of Alsacian Antiquities_, with their high towers crumbling away
at the foot, and dominating over the abyss into which the torrent falls.
"But I thought I was near Haslach!" he cried with amazement.
The woodcutter burst out laughing.
"Haslach!--you are two leagues away from it! I see how it is. You went
wrong at the old oak-tree. You took the right instead of the left path.
When you are in the woods you must look well about you. A few yards wrong
at starting come to leagues at the end!"
Bernard Hertzog at this discovery was in consternation.
"Six leagues from Saverne," he murmured, "and all mountains!--and if I
have to go two more to-morrow, that will be eight!"
"Oh, don't mind that! I will guide you to the road down the valley. And
don't forget. You are very fortunate."
"Fortunate? You are joking with me, Christian."
"Yes, you are lucky. You might have had to spend the night in the woods.
There is a thunderstorm coming on from Schn�eberg; if that had overtaken
you you might have had some reason to complain, with the rain at your
back and thunder and lightning all round. But now you shall sleep in a
good bed," pointing to the box in the corner; "you will sleep there like
a log, and to-morrow, when the sun is up, we will start; you will be
rested, and you will get there in very good time."
"You are very kind, Christian," said Uncle Bernard with tears in his
eyes. "Give me a potato, and then I will go to bed. I am more tired than
anything else. I am not hungry. One hot potato will be quite enough for
me."
"Here is a couple as mealy as chestnuts. Taste that, master; take a small
glass of kirschwasser, and then lie down. I have to set to work again. I
have got to saw fifteen more planks before I can go to bed."
Christian rose, set the bottle of kirschwasser on the window-sill, and
went out. The alternate movement of the saw, which had for a time ceased,
now recommenced amidst the rushing of the stream.
Ma�tre Hertzog, astonished as he was to find himself in those remote
solitudes between Dagsberg and the ruins of Nideck, sat long meditating
what he must do to rejoin his household gods; then, gliding down the
stream of his usual meditations, he went over the fabulous, heroic, or
barbarous legends and chronicles of the former lords of that land. He
went back to the Tribocci, that German nation settled about Strasbourg,
remembering Clovis, Chilperic, Theodoric, Dagobert, the furious struggle
between Brunehaut, Queen of Austrasia, and Fr�d�gonde, queen of Chilperic
of France, and many heroes and heroines besides. All these fierce
personages passed in review before his eyes. The vague murmuring of the
trees, the inky blackness of the rocks, favoured this strange invocation.
All the distinguished personages of his chronicle were there, and the
boar, and the wolf, and the bear were among them.
At last, unable to hold out any longer, the good man hung his
three-cornered hat upon a peg in the wall and lay down upon the heath.
The cricket sang its monotonous song upon the hearth, a few surviving
sparks were running hither and thither in the smouldering fire, his
eyelids dropped, and he slept a deep, sound sleep.
CHAPTER II.
Ma�tre Bernard Hertzog had slept a couple of hours, and the boiling of
the water in the millrace alone competed with the noise of his loud
snoring, when suddenly a guttural voice, arising in the midst of the deep
silence, cried--
"Dr�ckteufel! Dr�ckteufel! have you forgotten everything?"
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