by Edmond About
CHAPTER XVII.
WHEREIN HERR NICHOLAS MEISER, ONE OF THE SOLID MEN OF DANTZIC, RECEIVESAN UNWELCOME VISIT.
The wisdom of mankind declares that ill-gotten gains never do any good.I maintain that they do the robbers more good than the robbed, and thegood fortune of Herr Nicholas Meiser is an argument in support of myproposition.
The nephew of the illustrious physiologist, after brewing a great dealof beer from a very little hops, and prematurely appropriating thelegacy intended for Fougas, had amassed, by various operations, afortune of from eight to ten millions. "In what kind of operations?" Noone ever told me, but I know that he called all operations that wouldmake money, good ones. To lend small sums at a big interest, toaccumulate great stores of grain in order to relieve a scarcity afterproducing it himself, to foreclose on unfortunate debtors, to fit out avessel or two for trade in black flesh on the African coast--such arespecimens of the speculations which the good man did not despise. Henever boasted of them, for he was modest; but he never blushed for them,for he had expanded his conscience simultaneously with his capital. Asfor the rest, he was a man of honor, in the commercial sense of theword, and capable of strangling the whole human race rather than ofletting his signature be protested. The banks of Dantzic, Berlin,Vienna, and Paris, held him in high esteem; his money passed through allof them.
He was fat, unctuous, and florid, and lived well. His wife's nose wasmuch too long, and her bones much too prominent, but she loved him withall her heart, and made him little sweetmeats. A perfect congeniality ofsentiment united this charming couple. They talked with each other withopen hearts, and never thought of keeping back any of their evilthoughts. Every year, at Saint Martin's day, when rents became due, theyturned out of doors the families of five or six workmen who could notpay for their terms; but they dined none the worse after it, and theirgood-night kiss was none the less sweet.
The husband was sixty-six years old, the wife sixty-four. Theirphysiognomies were such as inspire benevolence and command respect. Tocomplete their outward resemblance to the patriarchs, nothing was neededbut children and grandchildren. Nature had given them one son--an onlyone, because they had not solicited Nature for more. They would havethought it criminal improvidence to divide their fortune among several.Unhappily, this only child, the heir-presumptive to so many millions,died at the University of Heidelberg from eating too many sausages. Heset out, when he was twenty, for that Valhalla of German students, wherethey eat infinite sausages, and drink inexhaustible beer; where theysing songs of eight hundred million verses, and gash the tips of eachother's noses with huge swords. Envious Death snatched him from hisparents when they were no longer of an age to improvise a successor. Theunfortunate old millionnaires tenderly collected his effects, to sellthem. During this operation, so trying to their souls (for there was agreat deal of brand-new linen that could not be found), Nicholas Meisersaid to his wife, "My heart bleeds at the idea that our buildings anddollars, our goods above ground and under, should go to strangers.Parents ought always to have an extra son, just as they have avice-umpire in the Chamber of Commerce."
But Time, who is a great teacher in Germany and several other countries,led them to see that there is consolation for all things except the lossof money. Five years afterwards, Frau Meiser said to her husband, with atender and philosophic, smile: "Who can fathom the decrees ofProvidence? Perhaps your son would have brought us to a crust. Look atTheobald Scheffler, his old comrade. He wasted twenty thousand francs atParis on a woman who kicked up her legs in the middle of a quadrille. Weourselves spent more than two thousand thalers a year for our wickedscapegrace. His death is a great saving, and therefore a good thing!"
As long as the three coffins of Fougas were in the house, the good damescolded at the visions and restlessness of her husband. "What in thename of sense are you thinking about? You've been kicking me all nightagain. Let's throw this ragamuffin of a Frenchman into the fire; thenhe'll no longer disturb the repose of a peaceable family. We can sellthe leaden box; it must weigh at least two hundred pounds. The whitesilk will make me a good lining for a dress; and the wool in thestuffing, will easily make us a mattress." But a tinge of superstitionprevented Meiser from following his wife's advice; he preferred to ridhimself of the Colonel by selling him.
The house of this worthy couple was the handsomest and most substantialon the street of Public Wells, in the aristocratic part of the city.Strong railings, in iron open work, decorated all the windowsmagnificently, and the door was sheathed in iron, like a knight of theolden time. A system of little mirrors, ingeniously arranged in theentrance, enabled a visitor to be seen before he had even knocked. Asingle servant, a regular horse for work and camel for temperance,ministered under this roof blessed by the gods.
The old servant slept away from the house, both because he preferred toand because while he did so he could not be tempted to wring thevenerable necks of his employers. A few books on Commerce and Religionconstituted the library of the two old people. They never cared to havea garden at the back of their house, because the shrubbery mightconceal thieves. They fastened their door with bolts every evening ateight o'clock, and never went out without being obliged to, for fear ofmeeting dangerous people.
And nevertheless, on the 29th of April, 1859, at eleven o'clock in themorning, Nicholas Meiser was far away from his beloved home. Gracious!how very far away for him--this honest burgher of Dantzic! He wastraversing, with heavy tread, the promenade in Berlin, which bears thename of one of Alphonse Karrs' romances: _Sous les tilleuls._ In German:_Unter den Linden._
What mighty agency had thrown out of his bon-bon box, this big redbon-bon on two legs? The same that led Alexander to Babylon, Scipio toCarthage, Godfrey de Bouillon to Jerusalem, and Napoleon toMoscow--Ambition! Meiser did not expect to be presented with the keys ofthe city on a cushion of red velvet, but he knew a great lord, a clerkin a government office, and a chambermaid who were working to get apatent of nobility for him. To call himself Von Meiser instead of plainMeiser! What a glorious dream!
This good man had in his character that compound of meanness and vanitywhich places lacqueys so far apart from the rest of mankind. Full ofrespect for power, and admiration for conventional greatness, he neverpronounced the name of king, prince, or even baron, without emphasis andunction. He mouthed every aristocratic syllable, and the single word"Monseigneur" seemed to him like a mouthful of well-spiced soup.Examples of this disposition are not rare in Germany, and are evenoccasionally found elsewhere. If they could be transported to a countrywhere all men are equal, homesickness for boot-licking would kill them.
The claims brought to bear in favor of Nicholas Meiser, were not of thekind which at once spring the balance, but of the kind which make itturn little by little. Nephew of an illustrious man of science,powerfully rich, a man of sound judgment, a subscriber to the _NewGazette of the Cross_, full of hatred for the opposition, author of atoast against the influence of demagogues, once a member of the CityCouncil, once an umpire in the Chamber of Commerce, once a corporal inthe militia, and an open enemy of Poland and all nations but the strongones. His most brilliant action dated back ten years. He had denounced,by an anonymous letter, a member of the French Parliament who had takenrefuge in Dantzic. While Meiser was walking under the lindens, his causewas progressing swimmingly. He had received that sweet assurance fromthe very lips of its promoters. And so he tripped lightly toward thedepot of the North-Eastern Railroad, without any other baggage than arevolver in his pocket. His black leather trunk had gone before; and waswaiting for him at the station. On the way, he was glancing into theshop windows, when he stopped short before a stationer's, and rubbed hiseyes--a sovereign remedy, people say, for impaired vision. Between theportraits of Mme. Sand and M. Merimee, the two greatest writers ofFrance, he had noticed, examined, recognized a well-known countenance.
"Surely," said he, "I've seen that man before, but he was paler. Can ourold lodger have come to life? Impossible! I burned up my uncle'sdirectio
ns, so the world has lost--thanks to me--the secret ofresuscitating people. Nevertheless, the resemblance is striking. Is it aportrait of Colonel Fougas, taken from life in 1813? No; for photographywas not then invented. But possibly it's a photograph copied from anengraving? Here are Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette reproduced in thesame way: that doesn't prove that Robespierre had them resuscitated.Anyhow, I've had an unfortunate encounter."
He took a step toward the door of the shop to reassure himself, but apeculiar reluctance held him back. People might wonder at him, ask himquestions, try to learn the reason of his trouble. He resumed his walkat a brisk pace, trying to reassure himself.
"Bah! It's an hallucination--the result of dwelling too much on oneidea. Moreover, the portrait was dressed in the style of 1813; thatsettles the question."
He reached the station, had his black leather trunk checked, and flunghimself down at full length in a first-class compartment. First hesmoked his porcelain pipe, but his two neighbors being asleep, he soonfollowed their example, and began snoring. Now this big man's snores hadsomething awe-inspiring about them; you could have fancied yourselflistening to the trumpets of the judgment day. What shade visited him inthis hour of sleep, no other soul has ever known; for he kept his dreamsto himself, as he did everything that was his.
But between two stations, while the train was running at full speed, hedistinctly felt two powerful hands pulling at his feet--a sensation,alas! too well known, and one which called up the ugliest recollectionsof his life. He opened his eyes in terror, and saw the man of thephotograph, in the costume of the photograph. His hair stood on end, hiseyes grew as big as saucers, he uttered a loud cry, and flung himselfheadlong between the seats among the legs of his neighbors.
A few vigorous kicks brought him to himself. He got up as well as hecould, and looked about him. No one was there but the two gentlemenopposite, who were mechanically lanching their last kicks into the emptyspace, and rubbing their eyes with their arms. He succeeded in awakeningthem, and asked them about the visitation he had had; but the gentlemendeclared they had seen nothing.
Meiser sadly returned to his own thoughts; he noticed that the visionsappeared terribly real. This idea prevented his going to sleep again.
"If this goes on much longer," thought he, "the Colonel's ghost willbreak my nose with a blow of his fist, or give me a pair of black eyes!"
A little later, it occurred to him that he had breakfasted very hastilythat morning, and he reflected that the nightmare had perhaps beenbrought about by such dieting.
He got off at the next five-minute stopping-place and called for soup.Some very hot vermicelli was brought him, and he blew into his bowl likea dolphin into the Bosphorus.
A man passed before him, without jostling him, without saying anythingto him, without even seeing him. And nevertheless, the bowl dropped fromthe hands of the rich Nicholas Meiser, the vermicelli poured over hiswaistcoat and shirt-bosom, where it formed an elegant fretworksuggestive of the architecture of the _porte Saint Martin_. Someyellowish threads, detached from the mass, hung in stalactites from thebuttons of his coat. The vermicelli stopped on the outside, but the souppenetrated much further. It was rather warm for pleasure; an egg left init ten minutes would have been boiled hard. Fatal soup, which not onlydistributed itself among the pockets, but into the most secretsinuosities of the man himself! The starting bell rang, the waitercollected his two sous, and Meiser got into the cars, preceded by aplaster of vermicelli, and followed by a little thread of soup which wasrunning down the calves of his legs.
And all of this, because he had seen, or thought he had seen, theterrible figure of Colonel Fougas eating sandwiches.
Oh! how long the trip seemed! What a terrible time it appeared to bebefore he could be at home, between his wife Catharine and his servantBerbel, with all the doors safely closed! His two companions laughedtill the buttons flew; people laughed in the compartment to the right ofhim, and in the compartment to the left of him. As fast as he picked offthe vermicelli, little spots of soup saucily congealed and seemedquietly laughing. How hard it comes to a great millionnaire to amusepeople who do not possess a cent! He did not get off again until theyreached Dantzic; he did not even put his nose to the window; he suckedsolitary consolation from his porcelain pipe, on which Leda caressed herswan and smiled not.
Wearisome, wearisome journey! But he did reach home nevertheless. It waseight o'clock in the evening; the old domestic was waiting with ropes tosling his master's trunk on his back. No more alarming figures, no moremocking laughs! The history of the soup was fallen into the greatforgotten, like one of M. Heller's speeches. In the baggage room, Meiserhad already seized the handle of a black leather trunk, when, at theother end, he saw the spectre of Fougas, which was pulling in theopposite direction, and seemed inclined to dispute possession. Hebristled up, pulled stronger, and even plunged his left hand into thepocket where the revolver was lying. But the luminous glance of theColonel fascinated him, his legs trembled, he fell, and fancied that hesaw Fougas and the black trunk rolling over each other. When he came to,his old servant was chafing his hands, the trunk already had the slingsaround it, and the Colonel had disappeared. The domestic swore that hehad not seen anybody, and that he had himself received the trunk fromthe baggage agent's own hand.
Twenty minutes later, the millionnaire was in his own house, joyfullyrubbing his face against the sharp angles of his wife. He did not dareto tell her about his visions, for Frau Meiser was a skeptic, in her ownway. It was she who spoke to him about Fougas.
"A whole history has happened to me," said she. "Would you believe thatthe police have written to us from Berlin, to find out whether our uncleleft us a mummy, and when, and how long we kept him, and what we havedone with him? I answered, telling the truth, and adding that ColonelFougas was in such a bad condition, and so damaged by mites, that wesold him for rags. What object can the police have in troublingthemselves about our affairs?"
Meiser heaved a heavy sigh.
"Let's talk about money!" said the lady. "The president of the bank hasbeen to see me. The million you asked him for, for to-morrow, is ready;it will be delivered upon your signature. It seems that they've had adeal of trouble to get the amount in specie. If you had but wanteddrafts on Vienna or Paris, you would have put them at their ease. Butat last they've done what you wanted. There's no other news, except thatSchmidt, the merchant, has killed himself. He had to pay a note for tenthousand thalers, and didn't have half the amount on hand. He came toask me for the money; I offered him ten thousand thalers, at twenty-fiveper cent., payable in ninety days, with a first mortgage on all his realestate. The fool preferred to hang himself in his shop. Everyone to histaste!"
"Did he hang himself very high?"
"I don't know anything about that. Why?"
"Because one might get a piece of rope cheap, and we're greatly in wantof some, my poor Catharine! That Colonel Fougas has given me a shiver."
"Some more of your notions! Come to supper, my love."
"Come on!"
The angular Baucis conducted her Philemon into a large and beautifuldining-room, where Berbel served a repast worthy of the gods. Soup withlittle balls of aniseeded bread, fish-balls with black sauce,mutton-balls stuffed, game balls, sour-krout cooked in lard andgarnished with fried potatoes, roast hare with currant jelly, deviledcrabs, salmon from the Vistula, jellies, and fruit tarts. Six bottles ofRhine-wine selected from the best vintages were awaiting, in theirsilver caps, the master's kiss. But the lord of all these good thingswas neither hungry nor thirsty. He ate by nibbles and drank by sips, allthe time expecting a grand consummation, which he did not have toexpect along. A formidable rap of the knocker soon resounded through thehouse.
Nicholas Meiser trembled. His wife tried to reassure him. "It'snothing," said she. "The president of the bank told me that he wascoming to see you. He offers to pay us the exchange, if we'll take paperinstead of specie."
"It _is_ about money, sure as Fate!" cried the good man.
"Hell itself iscoming to see us!"
At the same instant, the servant rushed into the room, crying, "Oh, Sir!Oh, Madame! It's the Frenchman of the three coffins! Jesus! Mary, Motherof God!"
Fougas saluted them, and said, "Don't disturb yourselves, good people, Ibeg of you. We've a little matter to discuss together, and I'm ready toexplain it to you in two words. You're in a hurry, so am I; you've nothad supper, neither have I!"
Frau Meiser, more rigid and more emaciated than a thirteenth-centurystatue, opened wide her toothless mouth. Terror paralyzed her. The man,better prepared for the visit of the phantom, cocked his revolver underthe table and took aim at the Colonel, crying "_Vade retro, Satanas!_"The exorcism and the pistol missed fire together.
Meiser was not at all discouraged: he snapped the six barrels one afterthe other at the demon, who stood watching him do it. Not one went off.
"What devilish game is that you're playing?" said the Colonel, seatinghimself astride a chair. "People are not in the habit of receiving anhonest man's visit with that ceremony!"
Meiser flung down his revolver, and grovelled like a beast at Fougas'feet. His wife, who was not one whit more tranquil, followed him. Theyjoined hands, and the fat man exclaimed:
"Spirit! I confess my misdeeds, and I am ready to make reparation forthem. I have sinned against you; I have violated my uncle's commands.What do you wish? What do you command? A tomb? A magnificent monument?Prayers? Endless prayers?"
"Idiot!" said Fougas, spurning him with his foot; "I am no spirit, and Iwant nothing but the money you've robbed me of!"
Meiser kept rolling on the floor; but his scrawny wife was already onher feet, her fists on her hips, and facing Fougas.
"Money!" cried she, "But we don't owe you any! Have you any documents?Just show us our signature! Where would one be, Just God! if we had togive money to all the adventurers who present themselves? And in thefirst place, by what right did you thrust yourself into our dwelling, ifyou're not a spirit? Ah! you're a man just the same as other people! Ha!ha! So you're not a ghost! Very well, sir; there are judges in Berlin;there are some in the country, too, and we'll soon see whether you'regoing to finger our money! Get up there, you great booby; it's only aman! And do you, Mister Ghost, get out of here! Off with you!"
The Colonel did not budge more than a rock.
"The devil's in women's tongues! Sit down, old lady, and take your handsaway from my eyes--they bother me. And as for you, swell-head, get on toyour chair, and listen to me. There will be time enough to go to law ifwe can't come to an understanding. But stamped paper stinks in mynostrils; and therefore I'd rather settle peaceably."
Herr and Frau Meiser repressed their first emotion. They distrustedmagistrates, as do all people without clean consciences. If the Colonelwas a poor devil who could be put off with a few thalers, it would bebetter to avoid legal proceedings.
Fougas stated the case to them with entire military bluntness. He provedthe existence of his right, said that he had had his identitysubstantiated at Fontainebleau, Paris, and Berlin; cited from memory twoor three passages of the will, and finished by declaring that thePrussian Government, in conjunction with that of France, would supporthis just claims if necessary.
"You understand clearly," said he, taking Meiser by the button of hiscoat, "that I am no fox, depending on cunning. If you had a wristvigorous enough to swing a good sabre, we'd take the field against eachother, and I'd play you for the amount, first two cuts out of three, assurely as that's soup before you!"
"Fortunately, monsieur," said Meiser, "my age shields me from allbrutality. You would not wish to trample under foot the corpse of an oldman!"
"Venerable scoundrel! But you would have killed me like a dog, if yourpistol had not missed fire!"
"It was not loaded, Monsieur Colonel! It was not----anywhere nearloaded! But I am an accommodating man, and we can come to terms veryeasily. I don't owe you anything, and, moreover, there's prescription;but after all----how much do you want?"
"He has had his say: now it's my turn!"
The old rascal's mate softened the tone of her voice. Imagine toyourself a saw licking a tree before biting in.
"Listen, Claus, my dear--listen to what Monsieur Colonel Fougas has tosay. You'll see that he is reasonable! It's not in him to think ofruining poor people like us. Oh, Heavens! he is not capable of it. Hehas such a noble heart! Such a disinterested man! An officer worthy ofthe great Napoleon (God receive his soul!)."
"That's enough, old lady!" said Fougas, with a curt gesture which cutthe speech off in the middle. "I had an estimate made at Berlin of whatis due me--principal and interest."
"Interest!" cried Meiser. "But in what country, in what latitude, dopeople pay interest on money? Perhaps it may sometimes happen inbusiness, but between friends--never, no never, my good MonsieurColonel! What would my good uncle, who is now gazing upon us fromheaven, say, if he knew that you were claiming interest on his bequest?"
"Now shut up, Nickle!" interrupted his wife. "Monsieur Colonel is justabout telling you, himself, that he did not intend to be understood asspeaking of the interest."
"Why in the name of great guns don't you both shut up, you confoundedmagpies? Here I am dying of hunger, and I didn't bring my nightcap to goto bed here, either!---- Now here's the upshot of the matter: You owe mea great deal; but it's not an even sum--there are fractions in it, and Igo in for clean transactions. Moreover, my tastes are modest. I'veenough for my wife and myself; nothing more is needed than to providefor my son!"
"Very well," cried Meiser; "I'll charge myself with the education of thelittle fellow!"
"Now, during the dozen days since I again became a citizen of the world,there is one word that I've heard spoken everywhere. At Paris, as wellas at Berlin, people no longer speak of anything but millions; there isno longer any talk of anything else, and everybody's mouth is full ofmillions. From hearing so much said about it, I've acquired a curiosityto know what it is. Go, fetch me out a million, and I'll give youquittance!"
If you want to reach an approximate idea of the piercing cries whichanswered him, go to the _Jardin des Plantes_ at the breakfast hour ofthe birds of prey, and try to pull the meat out of their beaks. Fougasstopped his ears and remained inexorable. Prayers, arguments,misrepresentations, flatteries, cringings, glanced off from him likerain from a zinc roof. But at ten o'clock at night, when he hadconcluded that all concurrence was impossible, he took his hat:
"Good evening!" said he. "It's no longer a million that I must have, buttwo millions, and all over. We'll go to law. I'm going to supper."
He was on the staircase, when Frau Meiser said to her husband:
"Call him back, and give him his million!"
"Are you a fool?"
"Don't be afraid."
"I can never do it!"
"Father in heaven! what blockheads men are! Monsieur! Monsieur Fougas!Monsieur Colonel Fougas! Come up again, I pray you! We consent to allthat you require!"
"Damnation!" said he, on reentering; "you ought to have made up yourminds sooner. But after all, let's see the money!"
Frau Meiser explained to him with her tenderest voice, that poorcapitalists like themselves, were not in the habit of keeping millionsunder their own lock and key.
"But you shall lose nothing by waiting, my sweet sir! To-morrow youshall handle the amount in nice white silver; my husband will sign you acheck on the Royal Bank of Dantzic."
"But----," said the unfortunate Meiser. He signed, nevertheless, for hehad boundless confidence in the practical ingenuity of Catharine. Theold lady begged Fougas to sit down at the end of the table, and dictatedto him a receipt for two millions, in payment of all demands. You maydepend that she did not forgot a word of the legal formulas, and thatshe arranged the affair in due form according to the Prussian code. Thereceipt, written throughout in the Colonel's hand, filled three largepages.
He signed the instrument with a flourish, and received in exchange thesignature of Nicholas, which he knew well.
"Well," said he to the old gentleman, "you're certainly not such an Arabas they said you were at Berlin. Shake hands, old scamp! I don't usuallyshake hands with any but honest people; but on an occasion like this,one can do a little something extra."
"Do it double, Monsieur Fougas," said Frau Meiser, humbly. "Will you notjoin us in this modest supper?"
"Gad! old lady, it's not a thing to be refused. My supper must be coldat the inn of the 'Clock'; and your viands, smoking on their chafingdishes, have already caused me more than one fit of distraction.Besides, here are some yellow glass flutes, on which Fougas will not beat all reluctant to play an air."
The respectable Catharine had an extra plate laid, and ordered Berbel togo to bed. The Colonel folded up Father Meiser's million, rolled itcarefully among a pile of bank-bills, and put the whole into the littlepocket-book which his dear Clementine had sent him.
The clock struck eleven.
At half-past eleven Fougas began to see everything in a rosy cloud. Hepraised the Rhine wine highly, and thanked the Meisers for theirhospitality. At midnight, he assured them of his highest esteem. Atquarter past twelve, he embraced them. At half-past twelve, he delivereda eulogy on the illustrious John Meiser, his friend and benefactor. Whenhe learned that John Meiser had died in that house, he poured forth atorrent of tears. At quarter to one, he assumed a confidential tone, andspoke of his son, whom he was going to make happy, and of the betrothedwho was waiting for him. About one o'clock, he tasted a celebrated portwine which Frau Meiser had herself gone to bring from the cellar. Abouthalf-past one, his tongue thickened and his eyes grew dim; he struggledsome time against drunkenness and sleepiness, announced that he wasgoing to describe the Russian campaign, muttered the name of theEmperor, and slid under the table.
"You may believe me, if you will," said Frau Meiser to her husband,"this is not a man who has come into our house; it's the devil!"
"The devil!"
"If not, would I have advised you to give him a million? I heard a voicesaying to me, 'If you do not obey the messenger of the Infernal powers,you will both die this very night.' It was on account of that, that Icalled him up stairs. Ah! if we had been doing business with a man, Iwould have told you to contest it in law to our last cent."
"As you please! So you're still making sport of my visions?"
"Forgive me, Claus dear; I was a fool!"
"And I've concluded I was, too."
"Poor innocent! Perhaps you too thought this was Colonel Fougas?"
"Certainly!"
"As if it were possible to resuscitate a man! It is a demon, I tell you,who assumed the shape of the Colonel, to rob us of our money!"
"What can demons do with money?"
"Build cathedrals, to be sure!"
"But how is the devil to be recognized when he is disguised?"
"First by his cloven-foot--but this one has boots on; next by hisclipped ear."
"Bah! And why?"
"Because the devil's ears are pointed, and, in order to make them round,he has to cut them."
Meiser stuck his head under the table and uttered a cry of horror.
"It's certainly the devil!" said he. "But how did he happen to lethimself go to sleep?"
"Perhaps you did not know that when I came back from the cellar, Idropped into my chamber? I put a drop of holy water into the Port; charmagainst charm, and he is fallen."
"That's splendid! But what shall we do with him, now that we have him inour power?"
"What is done with demons in Scripture? The Saviour throws them into thesea."
"The sea is a long way from here."
"But, you big baby, the public wells are just by!"
"And what will be said to-morrow, when the body is found?"
"Nothing at all will be found; and even the check that we signed, willbe turned into tinder."
Ten minutes later, Herr and Frau Meiser were lugging something towardthe public wells, and soon dame Catharine murmured, _sotto voce_, thefollowing incantation:
"Demon, child of hell, be thou accursed!
"Demon, child of hell, be thou dashed headlong down!
"Demon, child of hell, return to hell!"
A dull sound--the sound of a body falling into water, terminated theceremony, and the two spouses returned to their domicil, with thesatisfaction that always follows the performance of a duty.
Nicholas said to himself:
"I didn't think she was so credulous!"
"I didn't think he was so simple!" thought the worthy Kettle, weddedwife of Claus.
They slept the sleep of innocence. Oh, how much less soft their pillowswould have seemed, if Fougas had gone home with his million!
At ten o'clock the next morning, while they were taking their coffee andbuttered rolls, the president of the bank called in, and said to them:
"I am greatly obliged to you for having accepted a draft on Parisinstead of a million in specie, and without premium, too. That youngFrenchman you sent to us is a little brusque, but very lively, and agood fellow."