The Gnomes of the Saline Mountains: A Fantastic Narrative

by Anna Goldmark Gross

  Produced by Chris Whitehead and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file wasproduced from images generously made available by TheInternet Archive)

  WHISPERED MALICIOUS TALES INTO HIS EARS]

  The Gnomes of the Saline Mountains

  A FANTASTIC NARRATIVE

  By

  ANNA GOLDMARK GROSS

  Author of "The Whim of Fate," and numerous short stories and plays.

 

  THE SHAKESPEARE PRESS, 114-116 East 28th Street, New York. 1912.

  Copyright, 1912, by ANNA G. GROSS.

  I dedicate this book to the blessed memory of my father.

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  by

  I. T. BALLIN.

  Whispered malicious tales in his ears Frontispiece

  He gazed at the fair form in bridal attire lying upon the floor 104

  Here, Miss, I ain't got no money but I'd like to give you them shoes 117

  Confessing all to the wonder-working Saint 167

  Near Dresden lies a garden, Therein a cherry tree, Beneath whose fragrant shadow, Came happy dreams to me.

  On its bark my love for her, In ardent words I traced; In rapture, then in sorrow, Trembling with nervous haste.

  The moon so bright had risen, Those words glared forth at night. I glanced at them all frightened, Then screened them from my sight.

  * * * * * * * *

  On zephyr's wave a whisper came, From wicked gnomes to me addressed: "Come here, come here, thou human toy, And find with us thy final rest."

  The Gnomes of the Saline Mountains

  A FANTASTIC NARRATIVE

  I.

  Though rather early in the morning, the well-known esplanade alongthe beautiful Traunsee at Gmunden, surrounded by green-decked SalineMountains, was already thronged to overflowing with eager-lookingsightseers, watching excitedly the completion of the grandstands whichwere now being erected for the great event of the day.

  Special trains arrived hourly from Ischel, Aussee, Hallstadt, and othermountain resorts of prominence, and the excitement seemed to increaseeach moment more and more.

  Humdrum life was thrown aside by young and old; everyone looked onexpectantly, reviewing the grandstands, the tourists, and everythingnew around them.

  Fair-browed girls robed in spotless white muslin, garlanded withflowers and bright with rosy badges in honor of the occasion, were seenhere and there, while their eyes sparkled and their lips drank from thecup of happiness, enjoying life and the blessing of being young.

  The constantly increasing throng of summer visitors and tourists fromall parts of the globe, speaking different languages and wearingoutlandish clothes, made up a bewildering picture, while the July sunbeamed down upon them, and over lake and green-decked mountain-tops.

  The much talked of floral regatta of 1910 was not to take place untilfive, but by one o'clock the grandstands near the water, hardlycompleted, began to fill rapidly with the elite of Viennese society.These floral festivals, which had been so popular in previous years,were to be surpassed in artistic splendor and brilliant originality bytoday's display of picturesque effects, and symbolism of national life.

  Members of the highest nobility had consented to take leading parts inthe regatta, which was under the protectorate of the Archduke Victor.Many celebrities of the musical world, living there in their beautifulcottages, were seen quietly taking their seats. The great bare mountain"Traunstein" seemed to smile down on them from his aerial height infriendly approval; they were no strangers to him, these music giants,but rather belonged to his enthusiastic admirers.

  Every spring they came to him, seeking relaxation for theirover-strained nerves, and every fall, when his bald head began to becovered with a cap of snow, they went home full of elasticity andcreative power, often bringing along conceptions of masterpieces whichwere later to fill the entire musical world with admiration. No wonderthen, that the bald-headed old fellow up there so high above hisneighbors looked down so proudly upon them.

  Loud blasts of trumpets in the distance announced to the patientlyawaiting throng the approach of a long line of richly decorated boats.Archduke Victor, leading the procession, sat in the stern of his boat,which was gorgeously arrayed to represent a bower of field roses. Heopened the festival by throwing red carnations into the water as faras his hand could reach. Next came the customary exchange of greetingsamong the Austrian nobility, whose elaborately decorated boats werestationed on both sides of the lake. At their approach, the orchestraon the esplanade burst forth with the National anthem of Austria, andthe spectators applauded frantically.

  Right and left, as far as the eye could see, the shimmering surface ofthe lake, with its little, gently splashing wavelets, was covered withbrightly colored crafts, every one an unique marvel of its kind.

  There came splashing along a huge Easter egg, made up of lilies of thevalley; here a pagoda of large sunflowers called forth the admirationof the delighted sightseers.

  From the opposite shore there came floating a half opened Nautilus, outof which a green-clad naiad cast coquettishly her golden net, trying tocatch some inexperienced young fish in her golden meshes. Nearby saileda sleeping beauty (though rather wide awake) embowered enchantinglyin clusters of American Beauties, looking in all directions for herenchanted Prince to appear and make ardent love to her.

  Suddenly there came, as if by magic, a gondola from the other sideof the lake; it was gorgeously decorated, shining brightly in thebrilliant afternoon sun. This floating work of art was made of lotusflowers, over which a canopy of glittering, diaphanous material washanging, presumably as a suitable background for a lady now thecynosure of all eyes. She was of such entrancing beauty that all whobeheld her sat spellbound and actually forgot to applaud, according tothe customary greeting to newcomers, scarcely knowing which to admirefirst; the magnificent craft, so artistically constructed, or thedazzling apparition within.

  Amazed and speechless, the distinguished gathering gazed at her. "Whois she?" they whispered to each other. Her name was not on the listof nobilities. Nobody knew anything about her, but she was gorgeouslydressed, her costume representing that of Cleopatra, made up of palegreen crepe de chine, covered with little amorettes of silver pearls,which hung loosely in artistic folds about the luxurious outlines ofher bewitching form. Long flaxen hair, artistically arranged, set offwith diamond sparks, fell about her, and shone like molten gold in thesetting sun. It was supposed to be a real reproduction, according toancient pictures, of the flirtatious Queen of Egypt, seen in the artgalleries of Florence, Genoa and Rome. Her large black eyes held asingular fascination in their sparkling depths, which if once lookedinto, fastened themselves upon the imagination of man to be forgottenno more.

  At the sight of all these splendors amid such exclusive surroundings,she looked with a frightened stare into space, as if she were anewcomer, a stranger in this atmosphere of wealth and distinction. Herfeatures were rigid and white, and she seemed fascinated, dumb withadmiration at the sight of the splendid surroundings. For this reason,she had failed to notice the sensation her beauty had aroused among themasculine sightseers.

  A slender man, with deep set eyes, and thin and bloodless lips tightlypressed together, sat in an unpretentious little boat a short distanceaway, murmuring grimly unintelligible words to himself. She caughtsight of him and sent him a fri
endly glance and a smile similar to thegreeting of well-known friends. He did not lose sight of her for amoment, but almost devoured her with his eyes.

  With feverish eagerness he followed her every movement, knitting hisbrows threateningly when any boat of the Viennese "Jeunesse doree" camewith admiring curiosity too near to her's. In his jealous rage he feltlike driving all of them from the spot.

  He began to reproach himself for having yielded to her cajolingentreaty to be allowed to take part in the festivity.

  "Miserable fops," he murmured contemptuously, as he contemplated theadmiring men with a scornful sneer. "I loathe the sight of all thesenobodies," he grumblingly soliloquized.

  Many of them, in fact, had nothing to boast about. Many of theseso-called nobles in addition to a noble name, combined magnificentpoverty and an abhorrence for honest work; they acquired a heapof debts and their inherited estates were often in the hands ofunscrupulous usurers, or mortgaged to the last cent, while the sneeringone had money in such abundance that he could have purchased patents ofnobility for an entire regiment, and still have a reserve revenue fromhis unfathomable gold mine in South Africa. His finances would haveallowed him the luxury of such a woman--although it must be whisperedhe had a wife in England, divorced some people asserted.

  II.

  It was seven o'clock; the great animated festival drew near its end.At a given signal from the master of ceremonies, the music on theesplanade stopped; a hush fell on the distinguished gathering.

  Archduke Victor, in his own exalted person, was to award the stipulatedprizes to the boats of most artistic and original designs.

  The fanfares sounded gayly over land and sea, and all the boats smalland large ranged themselves in a semi-circle about the illustriousjudge. The first prize, a silver statuette of the Goddess Hebe, wasawarded to the fascinating princess of Egypt.

  With a flourish of trumpets, and amid shouts of applause from theenthusiastic throng, all looked around for the boat of the prizewinner. But there was no sign of it anywhere, nor was the single boatof the slender Englishman to be seen any more.

  At a given signal from Mr. Ogden, the artistically constructed littleboat had quietly turned about, and the two, availing themselves of thegeneral excitement over the awarding of prizes, had quietly slippedaway behind the neighboring piers, where the palatial home of theunfortunate Archduke Johann Salvatore is to be seen. He is better knownto the outer world under the pseudonym "Johann Orth."

  His sorrowing mother is still seen by passers-by sitting near thewindow with expectant eyes waiting for the lost son to return.

  The brilliant floral festival enacted on the lake was at an end. On theesplanade were still seen groups of excited spectators discussing withgreat animation once more, the singular disappearance of the wonderfullittle boat that was fortunate enough to win the first prize and whoseoccupants disappeared without claiming that distinction. Others lost notime in entering the brightly illuminated cafes in the vicinity of theesplanade to refresh themselves after the excitement of the grand event.

  On the eastern horizon a thin, fleecy scarf of clouds was visible andthe silvery moon with all her sparkling companions had just come outto beam upon the scene. The West was a single shrine of beryl, whereonruby flakes of vapor seemed to float through the universe.

  Meanwhile the much-admired boat was silently gliding over the surfaceof the gently splashing waves. The half reclining form of thefascinating woman seemed in the amber moonlight to resemble that ofAphrodite, as if risen from the waves and in a wanton mood, anxious tomake a trial performance all by herself of her incontestable power overthe other sex.

  "Am I really so fascinating? Did those admiring glances tell the taleof my triumph?" she murmured with a happy smile to herself, lookingaskance at the boat alongside her's, where her jealous admirer sat withgloomy eyes, consumed by jealousy.

  Mr. Ogden, to whom she owed all this splendor, regarded withunconcealed displeasure the day's proceedings. He reproached himselffor having yielded to her entreaty. She had begged and coaxed him somuch, until he gave his consent, then he ordered the decoration of theboat. Her costume was especially ordered from the most expensive tailoraccording to ancient pictures of the Egyptian Queen. Ogden undoubtedlywanted her to be the most striking figure on the lake.

  And now! Was he really jealous because she was the most admired, themost beautiful? "Jealous? Ho! ho!"

  She shrugged her white shoulders with a contemptuous smile.

  Did he really think that she loved him? "Phew!"

  She had only accepted his ardent devotion to learn what riches andluxury really meant, for which she had an uncontrollable longing, alonging that almost devoured her! Night and day she thought of it, howto get rich.

  The aggressive poverty in which she had passed her earlier days, wastoo hideous to dwell upon; she could not think of it without a shudder.The idea of being poor again took her breath away. How could she everhave consented to become the wife of a man who was poor? "Handsome butpoor! What an anomaly!" she said in an undertone, smiling sarcastically.

  With bitter envy and scorn in her painfully contracted heart, shesaw the rich but most ugly looking women rolling by in their elegantautomobiles disdainfully glancing at her and her poor outfit. Oftenenough when she was working,--engaged in the performance of herhousehold duties in the two small dark rooms of a tenement house,without pure air, without light to brighten her beautiful face, shecursed everything. This hovel her home! And she had the priceless giftof beauty! She made up her mind not to stand it any longer.

  The day came when she was seized by such a consuming desire to goin pursuit of pleasure, to wear elegant, stylish clothes and feelthe admiring glances of the other sex resting upon her, that meetingMr. Ogden by accident and dazzled by his wealth, captivated by hiscostly presents, she accepted his proposal to go with him forgettingeverything, even the sacred duty of a mother.

  III.

  The much-admired little boat was now approaching the narrow bay whichis only two minutes distance from Gmunden. There stood the spick andspan victoria of Mr. Ogden; the two black horses attached to it struckout sparks of fire with their impatient hoofs. The tall Englishman whohad distanced her, stood there waiting. The moment he caught sight ofher bewitching face, his eyes sparkled and smiling sweetly at her,helped her tenderly out of the boat.

  The sun had just gone down behind a fleecy cloud and kindled a volcano,from whose silver-rimmed crater fiery rays of scarlet shot up almost tothe clear zenith. She looked fatigued and closed her eyes for a moment.Now she caught sight of him and smiled, allowing him to take her away--

  Tenderly kissing her hand, he led her to the carriage, lifted hercarefully in and wrapped a costly cloak, which was laying there, aroundthe enchanting form he so adored.

  She did not speak, but sat by his side in silence. He gazed at herseveral times and then gave the order to start. The carriage set off ata rapid gait.

  The light of day was rapidly failing. Day and night seemed tojoin hands in a twilight mystery; black clouds were now piling upthreateningly on the western horizon. A heavy gust scattered the thickaggressive atmosphere. Flying leaves were lifted up in the air as if bymagic, and went through the wildest dances to the piping and howling ofthe storm, which now commenced to rage in all its fury, while voices ofsinister shadows in the air, seemed to hold intercourse with others inthe distance.

  In these high mountainous regions a few moments suffice to turn asmiling landscape into a cheerless dripping desert. Claps of thunderand flashes of lightning followed each other at brief intervals. Therain now fell in torrents and the howling storm whipped the green lakewhose wavelets had been so gently splashing half an hour ago.

  IV.

  During the events described in the preceding chapter, a man still inthe glow of youth was walking through the valley surrounded by loftysaline cliffs, in this howling storm, while clouds of shrivelled leavesdanced above his head. He did not mind the dreary desolation around him.

  Hi
s face, naturally strong with manly beauty, was now pale and haggard,showing unmistakable traces of a great sorrow. His large intelligenteyes were now sunk deep in their sockets. A nervous restlessness madehim shiver, and his pale cheeks gathered only a little color when anobstinate cough threatened to rend his suffering breast asunder.

  His coat betrayed the elegant cut of the fashionable tailor, but it wasnow old and worn, and hung loosely about his emaciated form. He lookedlike a teacher on whom fortune had persistently turned her back.

  He carried in his hands a thick book, carefully wrapped up in ahandkerchief, which he clasped tightly almost tenderly to his breast,as if afraid at any moment it might escape or drop out of his hands.This idea made him tremble. It was indeed his only source of income; bythe aid of this valuable book he had already earned many a gold piecein the Tyrolian and Styrian mountains.

  His humorous lectures had been received with great approbation indifferent hotels frequented by many foreign tourists. And still, hisearnings were not sufficient to support him and his motherless child,pretty little Marie, whom he had left in the meantime with a family offriends in Dresden. Every silver groschen he had earned was for thesupport of his child.

  He had come all the way from Hallstadt, and this long walk hadexhausted his strength considerably; and his heart was sick and heavy.Now he felt a frightful nervousness, fearing not to be able to reach intime the hotel where he was announced to deliver his humorous lecture.

  He walked as quickly as he could to the farther end of the valley,where he expected to see a clearing in the forest, and an open roadto the hotel. But on all sides he met high, unfamiliar cliffs.Apprehension fell over him like an icy rain.