CHAPTER XXVII.
THE HOUSE IN THE CHURCHYARD.
The heat which Count Leuchtenstein had thrown into the mattersurprised me somewhat when I came to think of it, but I was soon to bemore surprised. I did not go to my lady at once on coming in, for onthe landing the sound of voices and laughter met me, and I learnedthat there were still two or three young officers sitting with her whohad outstayed Count Hugo. I waited until they were gone--clanking andjingling down the stairs; and then, about the hour at which I usuallywent to take orders before retiring, I knocked at the door.
Commonly one of the women opened to me. To-night the door remainedclosed. I waited, knocked again, and then went in. I could see no one,but the lamps were flickering, and I saw that the window was open.
At that moment, while I stood uncertain, she came in through it; andblinded, I suppose, by the lights, did not see me. For at the firstchair she reached just within the window, she sat down suddenly andburst into tears!
'Mein Gott!' I cried clumsily. I should have known better; but thelaughter of the young fellows as they trooped down the stairs wasstill in my ears, and I was dumfounded.
She sprang up on the instant, and glared at me through her tears. 'Whoare--how dare you? How dare you come into the room without knocking?'she cried violently.
'I did knock, my lady,' I stammered, 'asking your pardon.'
'Then now go! Go out, do you hear?' she cried, stamping her foot withpassion. 'I want nothing. Go!'
I turned and crept towards the door like a beaten hound. But I was notto go; when my hand was on the latch, her mood changed.
'No, stay,' she said in a different tone. 'You may come back. Afterall, Martin, I had rather it was you than any one else.'
She dried her tears as she spoke, standing up very straight and proud,and hiding nothing. I felt a pang as I looked at her. I had neglectedher of late. I had been thinking more of others.
'It is nothing, Martin,' she said after a pause, and when she hadquite composed her face. 'You need not be frightened. All women cry alittle sometimes, as men swear,' she added, smiling.
'You have been looking at that thing outside,' I said, grumbling.
'Perhaps it did upset me,' she replied. 'But I think it was that Ifelt--a little lonely.'
That sounded so strange a complaint on her lips, seeing that the echoof the young sparks' laughter was barely dead in the room, that Istared. But I took it, on second thoughts, to refer to Fraulein Max,whom she had kept at a distance since our escape, never sitting downwith her, or speaking to her except on formal occasions; and I saidbluntly--
'You need a woman friend, my lady.'
She looked at me keenly, and I fancied her colour rose. But she onlyanswered, 'Yes, Martin. But you see I have not one. I am alone.'
'And lonely, my lady?'
'Sometimes,' she answered, smiling sadly.
'But this evening?' I replied, feeling that there was still somethingI did not understand. 'I should not have thought you would be feelingthat way. I have not been here, but when I came in, my lady----'
'Pshaw!' she answered with a laugh of disdain. 'Those boys, Martin?They can laugh, fight, and ride; but for the rest, pouf! They are notcompany. However, it is bedtime, and you must go. I think you havedone me good. Good night. I wish--I wish I could do you good,' sheadded kindly, almost timidly.
To some extent she had. I went away feeling that mine was not the onlytrouble in the world, nor my loneliness the only loneliness. She was astranger in a besieged city, a woman among men, exposed, despite herrank, to many of a woman's perils; and doubtless she had felt FrauleinMax's defection and the Waldgrave's strange conduct more deeply thanany one watching her daily bearing would have supposed. So much thegreater reason was there that I should do my duty loyally, and puttingher first to whom I owed so much, let no sorrow of my own taint myservice.
But God knows there is one passion that defies argument. The housenext Herr Krapp's had a fascination for me which I could not resist;and though I did not again leave my lady unguarded, but arranged thatSteve should stop at home and watch the door, four o'clock the nextafternoon saw me sneaking away in search of St. Austin's. Of course Isoon found it; but there I came to a check. Round the churchyard stooda number of quiet family houses, many-gabled and shaded by limes, anddoubtless once occupied by reverend canons and prebendaries. But noone of these held such a position that it could shoulder Herr Krapp's,or be by any possibility the house I wanted. The churchyard lay toofar from the street for that.
I walked up the row twice before I would admit this; but at last Imade it certain. Still Herr Krapp must know his own premises, and notmuch cast down, I was going to knock at a chance door and put thequestion, when my eyes fell on a man who sat at work in thechurchyard. He wore a mason's apron, and was busily deepening theinscription on a tablet let into the church wall. He seemed to be thevery man to know, and I went to him.
'I want a house which looks into the Neu Strasse,' I said. 'It is thenext house to Herr Krapp's. Can you direct me to the door?'
He looked at me for a moment, his hammer suspended. Then he pointed tothe farther end of the row. 'There is an alley,' he said in a hoarse,croaking voice. 'The door is at the end.'
I thought his occupation an odd one, considering the state of thecity; but I had other things to dwell on, and hastened off to theplace he indicated. Here, sure enough, I found the mouth of a verynarrow passage which, starting between the last house and a blindwall, ran in the required direction. It was a queer place, scarcelywider than my shoulders, and with two turns so sharp that I rememberwondering how they brought their dead out. In one part it wound underthe timbers of a house; it was dark and somewhat foul, and altogetherso ill-favoured a path that I was glad I had brought my arms.
In the end it ran into a small, paved court, damp but clean, and bycomparison light. Here I saw the door I wanted facing me. Above it thehouse, with its narrow front of one window on each floor, and everyfloor jutting out a little, gave a strange impression of gloomyheight. The windows were barred and dusty, the plaster was mildewed,the beams were dark with age. Whatever secrets, innocent or thereverse, lay within, one thing was plain--this front gave the lie tothe other.
I liked the aspect of things so little that it was with a secrettremor I knocked, and heard the hollow sound go echoing through thehouse. So certain did I feel that something was wrong, that I wonderedwhat the inmates would do, and whether they would lie quiet and refuseto answer, or show force and baffle me that way. No foreign windowslooked into the little court in which I stood; three of the walls wereblind. The longer I gazed about me, the more I misdoubted the place.
Yet I turned to knock again; but did not, being anticipated. The doorslid open under my hand, slowly wide open, and brought me face to facewith an old toothless hag, whose bleared eyes winked at me like abat's in sunshine. I was so surprised both by her appearance and theopening of the door, that I stood tongue-tied, staring at her and atthe bare, dusty, unswept hall behind her.
'Who lives here?' I blurted out at last.
If I had stopped to choose my words I had done no better. She shookher head and pointed first to her ears, and then to her lips. Thewoman was deaf and dumb!
I would not believe it at the first blush. I tried her again. 'Wholives here, mother?' I cried more loudly.
She smiled vacuously, showing her toothless gums. And that was all.
Still I tried again, shouting and making signs to her to fetch whoeverwas in the house. The sign she seemed to understand, for she shook herhead violently. But that helped me no farther.
All the time the door stood wide open. I could see the hall, and thatit contained no furniture or traces of habitation. The woman wasalone, therefore a mere caretaker. Why should I not enter and satisfymyself?
I made as if I would do so. But the moment I set my foot across thethreshold the old crone began to mow and gibber so horribly, puttingherself in my way, that I f
ell back cowed. I had not the heart to useforce to her, alone as she was, and in her duty. Besides, what righthad I to thrust myself in? I should be putting myself in the wrong ifI did. I retired.
She did not at once shut the door, but continued to tremble and makefaces at me awhile as if she were cursing me. Then with her old handpressed to her side, she slowly but with evident passion clanged thedoor home.
I stood a moment outside, and then I retreated. I had been driven tobelieve Herr Krapp. Why should I not believe this old creature? Herewas an empty house, and so an end. And yet--and yet I was puzzled.
As I went through the churchyard, I passed my friend the mason, andsaw he had a companion. If he had looked up I should have asked him aquestion or two. But he did not, and the other's back was towards me.I walked on.
In the silent street, however, three minutes later, a sudden thoughtbrought me to a stand. An empty house? Was there not something odd inthis empty house, when quarters were so scarce in Nuremberg, and evenmy lady had got lodgings assigned to her as a favour and at a price?The town swarmed with people who had taken refuge behind its walls.Where one had lain two lay now. Yet here was an empty house!
In a twinkling I was walking briskly towards the Neu Strasse,determined to look farther into the matter. It was again the hour ofevening drill; the ways were crowded, the bells of the churches wereringing. Using some little care as I approached Herr Krapp's, Islipped into a doorway, which commanded it from a distance, and thencebegan to watch the fatal window.
If the old hag had not lied with her dumb lips I should see no one; orat best should only see her.
Half an hour passed; an hour passed. Hundreds of people passed, amongthem the man I had seen talking with the mason in the churchyard. Inoticed him, because he went by twice. But the window remained blank.Then on a sudden, as the light began to fail, I saw the Waldgrave atit.
The Waldgrave?
'Gott im Himmel!' I muttered, the blood rushing to my face. What wasthe meaning of this? What was the magic of this cursed window? First Ihad seen my love at it. Then the Waldgrave.
While I stood thunderstruck, he was gone again, leaving the windowblank and black. The crowd passed below, chattering thoughtlessly.Groups of men with pikes and muskets went by. All seemed unchanged.But my mind was in a whirl. Rage, jealousy, and wonder played with it.What did it all mean? First Marie, then the Waldgrave! Marie, whom wehad left thirty leagues away in the forest; the Waldgrave, whom I hadseen that morning.
I stood gaping at the window, as if it could speak, and gradually mymind regained its balance. My jealousy died out, hope took its place.I did not think so ill of the Waldgrave as to believe that knowing ofMarie's existence he would hide it from me, and for that reason Icould not explain or understand how he came to be in the same housewith her. But it was undeniable that his presence there encouraged me.There must be some middle link between them; perhaps some onecontrolling both. And then I thought of Tzerclas.
The Waldgrave had seen him in the town, and had even spoken to him.What if it were he who occupied this house close by the New Gate, witha convenient secretive entrance, and used it for his machinations?Marie might well have fallen into his hands. She might be in his powernow, behind the very walls on which I gazed.
From that moment I breathed and lived only to see the inside of thathouse. Nothing else would satisfy me. I scanned it with greedy eyes,its steep gable, its four windows one above another, its carvedweather-boards. I might attack it on this side; or by way of the alleyand door. But I quickly discarded the latter idea. Though I had seenonly the old woman, I judged that there were defenders in thebackground, and in the solitude of the alley I might be easilydespatched. It remained to enter from the front, or by way of theroof. I pondered a moment, and then I went across to Herr Krapp's andknocked.
He opened the door himself. I almost pushed my way in. 'What do youwant, my friend?' he said, recoiling before me, and looking somewhatastonished.
'To get into your neighbour's house,' I answered bluntly.
My Lady Rotha: A Romance Page 28