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Page 22
The carriage now rolled on slowly, like a hearse, at the pace drivers
usually take when they wish to notify pedestrians that they have no
occupant in their vehicles and can receive a passenger. So no one noticed
the slow progress of the carriage; no one in the crowded streets through
which it passed heeded it. Yet many a person might have been interested if
he could have cast a glance within.
Something strange and unusual was certainly occurring inside the hack. No
sooner had it started than Baron von Moudenfels hastily raised both the
side windows and pulled down the little curtains of dark red silk. No
curious eyes could now look in at him, and he could fearlessly devote
himself to his occupations, which he did with perfect composure and
unconcern. First, he drew from the back pocket of his coat a package
wrapped in paper, which he unrolled, placing its contents on the back seat.
These consisted of a wig of short fair hair, a mustache of the same color,
and two little boxes containing red, white, and black paints. Then the
baron took from his breast-pocket another package, which he unwrapped and
produced a mirror, brushes and combs.
After hanging the mirror by a small hook on the cushion of the back seat,
the baron began to make his toilet, that is, to transform himself from an
old man into a young one. First, he removed his powdered wig and exchanged
it for the blonde one, doing it so quickly that the most watchful eye would
have had no time to see the color of his own hair concealed beneath. With
the same speed he fastened over his hitherto beardless lips a pointed
mustache of reddish-fair hair and, after removing from his face the
skillfully painted wrinkles and the powder, he hastened to add red cheeks
to the fair curls on his head, and to tinge the tip of his nose with the
rosy hue which suggests a convivial nature. After this was accomplished, and
the baron had convinced himself by a careful examination in the mirror that
he was transformed into a charming, gay, young fellow, he began a similar
metamorphosis of his costume. Taking the diamond pin from his lace jabot
he hid it under his vest, which he buttoned to the necktie. Then removing
the light silk long-skirted dress-coat, he turned it completely on the
other side and, by taking out some pins which held them, let the tails fall
back. The dress-coat was now changed into an overcoat, a blue cloth
overcoat, whose color harmonized very pleasantly with his fair hair.
Now the metamorphosis was complete, and, from the skill and speed with
which the baron had performed it, one might suppose that he was not
practising such arts of disguise for the first time, but was well-trained
in them. With perfect calmness and deliberation he now put the cast-off
articles into the parcels, hid them in the pockets of his clothes, and,
after unscrewing the gold crutch-handle from his cane and replacing it by
a plain ivory head, he drew up the little curtains and looked out with a
keen, watchful gaze. The carriage was just passing down the crowded and
busy Grabenstrasse moving behind a long row of equipages following a
funeral procession, and the driver was of course compelled to proceed
slowly.
The baron now cautiously opened the carriage door, and as it was just in
the act of turning a corner, he took advantage of the opportunity offered
to spring with a swift leap into the street.
He now hurried rapidly along the opposite side; his bearing was as vigorous
and energetic as it had just been bowed and feeble; and with the wrinkles
and gray hair every trace of age had also vanished he was now a young man,
but the large black eyes, with their bold, fiery gaze, suited the rosy
cheeks and fair hair as little as they had formerly harmonized with the old
man's pallid countenance. But at any rate the present youthfulness was no
disguise, and the swift, vigorous movements were no assumption; that was
evident from the ease and speed with which the baron, after entering one of
the handsomest houses in the Grabenstrasse, ran up the stairs, never
pausing until he had mounted the third flight. Beside the bell of a glass
door, on a shining brass plate, was engraved the name of Count von Kotte.
Baron von Moudenfels pulled this bell so violently that it echoed loudly,
and at the door, which instantly opened, appeared a liveried servant with
an angry face, muttering with tolerable distinctness something about
unseemly noise and rude manners.
"Is Count von Kotte at home?" asked the baron hastily.
"No," muttered the lackey, "the count isn't at home, and it wasn't
necessary to ring so horribly loud to ask the question."
He stepped back and was about to close the door again, but the baron thrust
his foot between it and the frame and seized the man's sleeve.
"My good fellow, I _must_ see the count," he said imperiously.
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