"Why do you wish me not to mention our meeting?" I asked in reply.

"Because I begged Franz to ask you this," Anna replied for the young man, whose features as I spoke resumed their wonted gloomy expression.

"Franz told me that yesterday he turned away from you because he wished to avoid any meeting with you. He feared it might cause you annoyance, if you had happened to be seen by any chance pa.s.ser-by walking with him. He had been waiting for me a long time in vain beneath the old oak where we are used to meet every day at noon. I could not come because my father had sent me down to Luttach. Franz was in a very bad humour when he met you, and so, to avoid greeting you, he turned away into the forest."

Anna's words had a peculiar effect upon me. They strengthened my suspicions. If he were not guilty, would Franz have thought it necessary to have the young girl explain to me why he was in the neighbourhood of the Lonely House at noon, and why he had turned away from me with such sullen looks?

"You have not yet told me why I should not mention my meeting with Herr Schorn," I replied.

"I will explain that to you myself," Franz said hurriedly, "my betrothed thinks that if Foligno should learn that I was seen yesterday here in the neighbourhood of the Lonely House, the malice and hatred with which he regards me would find expression in vile suspicion of me."

"It would certainly be so. I entreat you, dear Herr Professor, do not tell a human being that you met Franz yesterday."

As she spoke the young girl looked up at me with such entreaty in her beautiful eyes that my heart was softened. I was in an awkward position. Ought I to tell her that I could not comply with her request, because I had already informed the Judge of my meeting Franz? This I could not do. I could not warn Franz without perhaps injuring the investigation; but, on the other hand, I certainly could not make a promise which it was already impossible to keep.

"I can promise nothing," I replied guardedly; "in an official examination one is bound to conceal nothing."

"Oh, Herr Professor, I beg, I entreat you----"

Franz interrupted her, and, casting at me a look which was almost menacing, exclaimed, "Do not say another word, Anna; the Herr Professor is right; it was folly, yes, wrong, for me to yield to your desire and make this request of the Herr Professor, who ought not to comply with it. If that scoundrel, Foligno, suspects me, I know how to meet his suspicion. Come, Anna, we ought not to detain the gentleman any longer."

He lifted his hat by way of farewell, and walked towards the forest with the young girl. My mind was filled with contradictory thoughts.

Can that proud, self-a.s.sertive young man be a miserable criminal! I would so gladly have banished all suspicion of him, but--how terrible it was that so lovely and charming a girl had perhaps bestowed the wealth of her affection upon her father's murderer!

I walked slowly towards the Lonely House, where the Captain, sitting before the door, was awaiting me. He handed me the letter for his brother, gave me various verbal commissions, and I left with a promise to visit him shortly in the Lonely House.

"Shall I bring the Herr Professor's lunch into the garden?" Mizka asked me as I entered the kitchen of the Golden Vine on my return from my excursion. "The Judge has been lunching in the garden, and is sitting with his coffee beneath the great linden."

The _Ophrys Bertolini_ occurred to me. I smiled at the remembrance of the Judge's boast and was pleased at the idea of teasing him. Of course I ordered my lunch in the garden and betook myself thither.

The Judge was sipping his coffee and smoking his long cigar at the round table beneath the spreading linden. He seemed sunk in a profound reverie, leaning his head upon his hand and with downcast eyes. I was struck with his pallor and with the sallowness and the drawn look of his features. At my first words he started violently, and for a moment gazed at me with terror, almost as if awaking from an oppressive dream, but in an instant he recovered his self-control, and greeted me with a smile.

"I think I was dozing," he said; "the terrible heat makes me sleepy."

Why should he have told such an untruth? He had not been dozing; just before he started he had raised his hand to his cigar and had taken a long whiff.

"I admire you, Herr Professor," he said, "for being able to climb about in such heat. I suffer from it even here in the shade of the linden. I trust you were richly rewarded for your trouble."

"I was indeed," I replied smiling. "I have had great luck. I have been so fortunate as even to discover the place where, yesterday, you plucked for me the charming _Ophrys Bertolini_."

My jesting words produced a strange effect. Herr Foligno stared at me blankly; his sallow face grew ashy pale; his mouth twitched convulsively as he said brokenly, "No, impossible! How--how--could you--how could you get there?"

"In the easiest way in the world," I replied, tickled that the discovery of his boast had so startled the worthy gentleman. "The spot, so difficult and even dangerous to attain, in reaching which you fell on the rocks and wounded your hand, I found right on the road to the Lonely House and most easy of attainment. From the path I saw the _Ophrys_ blooming, and mounted without any difficulty to where it grew."

"Then you have had the good fortune to discover a new home for it which I had not known," Herr Foligno replied, having regained his self-control with surprising celerity. "I found the orchid on an overhanging rock in quite a distant part of the country."

"Indeed, that is very remarkable. Did you, by chance, lose your pocket handkerchief there? I found it in my spot--or is it not yours? Look, the yellow silk shows some spots of blood, probably from a wounded hand."

With a laugh I drew out the handkerchief and handed it to him; the black gloved hand with which he took it trembled. He examined it quite attentively for some time, and then said quietly, "This certainly is a remarkable coincidence. The handkerchief actually belongs to me, and I probably lost it yesterday in climbing about the rocks, but certainly not where you found it, for I was not even in the neighbourhood of the Lonely House. Probably one of the young goatherds here who scramble about everywhere in the mountains found it, and lost it again where you discovered it."

With the greatest calmness he put the handkerchief in his pocket. I could not refuse him my admiration, for his barefaced explanation struck me as quite brilliant. Whether I believed him or not, I must pretend to do so. Laughing heartily, I replied: "I congratulate you, Herr Foligno, on the happy chance which led the little goatherd and the old Professor to the same place, one losing, the other finding your handkerchief to restore it to you."

The Judge probably felt the irony in my words, but he took no notice of it. He offered me his hand cordially.

"It certainly is a very strange coincidence," he said. "If my acquaintances here should hear of it, it might give them material for teasing me quite unpleasantly. You will oblige me, Herr Professor, if you will not mention this little occurrence. May I rely upon you?"

"Certainly; I will be silent as the grave," I replied, still laughing, but the suspicious and evil glance which he cast at me quickly silenced my laughter. He said nothing further about the handkerchief or the _Ophrys_; he only made a few remarks about the unusual heat of the weather so late in the season, and then arose, saying that he was obliged to return to his office, and, therefore, to his regret, must leave me.

CHAPTER VIII.

QUIET WEEKS.

The first eventful days which I pa.s.sed in Luttach were followed by weeks that were more serene. Favoured by the beautiful weather, I made daily excursions in every direction, reaping a rich harvest everywhere.

I grew more and more familiar with the peculiar features of the country, and every day I grew more in sympathy with the smiling, charming valley shut in by mountains crowned with bald summits. The contrast between the barren gray rocks and the luxuriant valley at their feet particularly charmed me, and I especially delighted in the view when the sun sank behind the mountains, which were quickly enveloped in a soft twilight mist, the n.o.ble outlines of their peaks showing clear against the sky in the light of the setting sun.

The character of the inhabitants of Southern Ukraine soon grew familiar to me. Intercourse with the country folk whom I met on my excursions was, of course, very limited; we could not understand each other's language. Here and there a man who had served in the army could speak German, but only brokenly. The women for the most part spoke scarcely a German word, and they found it very difficult to understand the few Slavonic words which I had learned from Mizka and which I certainly p.r.o.nounced very badly. There could be no attempt at conversation, but nevertheless the Slavonic country folk tried to testify kindness and cordiality for the stranger.

The peasants evidently held it their duty to offer the hospitality of their fields to the "flycatcher," as they dubbed me, although sometimes they found the gra.s.s trodden down where he had been. Unlike the Swiss peasantry, who load with abuse any stranger venturing to trespa.s.s in their fields, these Slavonic country folk seemed glad to have me pluck flowers and pursue b.u.t.terflies wherever I would; nay, they would at times even point out places among the rocks most easy of access and would a.s.sist in my search, never asking for money, accepting at most, with many Slavonic words of thanks, a cheap cigar. Scarcely ever in all my travels have I met a peasantry so amiable and kindly as these much slandered Slavonic country folk. I never heard a harsh word or found a trace of that hatred of Germans against which I had been cautioned.

And yet it was none the less there at the bottom of all their hearts; but it was not for the German proper, as the Burgomaster had told me on that first evening, but for those Ukrainers who in a Slavonic country aimed at remaining faithful to Germany. Of this I had daily proof in the expressions which I heard with regard to Franz Schorn.

The young man interested me greatly and I took every opportunity to inform myself as to his circ.u.mstances, his earlier life, and everything regarding him. What I learned was not of a nature either to weaken or strengthen my suspicion, and, besides, I could not but acknowledge to myself that all the sources from which I could gain information were unfit to give me a true, distinct picture of a young fellow living in brooding seclusion, as it were, in a community rife with party hatred.

The Clerk, the Captain, and the Burgomaster were the only men who could sufficiently rid themselves of prejudice to speak really well of the young man.

All acknowledged that Franz Schorn was an industrious, capable farmer, who took admirable care of the estate inherited from his father; that he was well educated, to a degree above his station; but no praise was accorded to his character; he was said to be an obstinate, sullen fellow, ready for deeds of violence, filled with party hatred, maltreating his Slavonic labourers, covetous and hard-hearted. He had no pity for the poor; his only desire was to gain money and increase his patrimony, which was the reason why he had cast his eye on the rich and pretty Anna Pollenz, not because he loved her, but from greed of gain. This was the verdict of his enemies concerning him. The Captain and the Clerk alone maintained that he was a man of honour, incapable of mean or avaricious conduct; that he was reserved and defiant, willing to defend himself with some violence against all party hatred, and in other respects the victim of slander and low suspicion. How could I find the truth in these conflicting descriptions? I pondered the question in vain. It was certainly remarkable that a handsome, well-to-do, educated young man should be so generally detested, and it was hard to believe that such widespread hatred was entirely without foundation.

I now had many opportunities of observing him. He came almost regularly every evening to the Golden Vine and took the place at the round table which the Clerk always reserved for him. It seemed to me that this was done in order to establish a more kindly social feeling between Franz and the rest of the company who nightly a.s.sembled in the inn. The Clerk evidently endeavoured in the kindest way to draw him into the conversation, which he knew how to conduct so that Schorn would have an opportunity to be heard to the very best advantage in displaying his clear judgment and admirable intelligence.

The Captain, the Burgomaster, and the doctor aided the Clerk in his endeavour to establish peace between Franz and the rest of the company, who, out of regard for these gentlemen, became less antagonistic, to be sure, but still remained decidedly indifferent. They were content to do what was required of them socially, greeting the young man when he entered, but in conversation they avoided all direct talk with him, and since he addressed all that he said to the three above-named members of the party, he rarely exchanged a word with the others. The antipathy existing between Franz and the Judge was especially observable. Between these two there was an insurmountable barrier of profound dislike. They never exchanged either a greeting or a word. Franz never even looked at the Judge, although Herr Foligno watched him narrowly.

As soon as Franz appeared among the company in the evening, the Judge fell silent. Even though he might before have talked continually, and at times had even attempted to monopolize the conversation, from the time when Franz appeared he confined himself to monosyllables or a word thrown in here and there. He listened to all that was going on and with special interest when the talk turned upon the failure to discover the perpetrator of the crime committed in the Lonely House. At such times his gaze would be riveted with a strange intensity upon Franz Schorn.

No word that the young man spoke, no expression of his countenance, escaped him then. It was the gaze of the serpent upon the bird which he is about to devour. This is perhaps an unsuitable simile, but it occurred to me involuntarily as I saw the Judge watching Franz. I knew his suspicions of the young man, and knew that he was secretly trying to acc.u.mulate fresh grounds for it. I knew also that his desire was great to gather from Franz some word that could be used against him, and I fervently thanked my Creator that after going through two terms as a student of law, I had given up all legal aspirations and devoted myself to natural science. There is something positively detestable to me in the thought of a man like the Judge sacrificing all humanity in an eagerness to discover the traces of a crime. My discomfort increased from day to day as I observed the stealthy manner in which he watched Franz's every word and motion.

Sometimes I actually hated the Judge, but I reflected that I had no right to do so. He was simply fulfilling the duty of his office, and probably such fulfilment was most obnoxious to him; he certainly had before him a most unpleasant and arduous task.

As yet there had been no light thrown upon the mysterious crime in the Lonely House. The necessary papers had been sent to the court at Laibach, and there the matter rested for the present. The investigating Judge and the Attorney General had come to Luttach in person to convince themselves that there was no trace of the criminal. The stolen bonds and banknotes had not been found, and, in fact, identification of these would have been impossible, as there had been no registration of them.

Nor could the minutest search among the papers of the murdered man give any evidence as to the amount of his property. The Judge and the tradesman Weber, each of whom had formerly had dealings with old Pollenz and occasion to speak with him about his money affairs, maintained that the old man had kept a list of all bonds in his possession, and of his outstanding investments, in order that he might always be fully conscious of the amount of his wealth, but such a list was not among the papers left behind by the thief. The miserly old man had speculated with a kind of pa.s.sion. He was in correspondence with several bankers in Vienna; no one could tell with how many. These bankers he commissioned partly by letter and partly through a Luttach firm of tradesmen, Weber & Meyer, as to the purchase and sale of various stocks. He excluded every one from all knowledge of his speculations, and never sold his stock through the same banking house that had purchased it for him. As no one knew how many banking houses he employed, it seemed quite hopeless to discover what stock and government bonds he had possessed, and this, of course, diminished the chances of the discovery of the murderer should he attempt to sell the papers.

It must have been a really humiliating reflection for Herr Foligno that within his district a crime should have been committed without any possibility of the discovery of the criminal. He might well fear that those above him would accuse him of a want of acuteness, or of activity in the performance of his duties. His clear, excellently composed deposition had evidently not brought him the credit that it should have done in higher places. When the two officials from Laibach had made their visit to Luttach, they had put all their questions to the Clerk and not to himself.

"Perhaps I have been wrong," he said to me after the visit of the two men from Laibach, "I ought to have required you to give me a sworn report of your encounter with Herr Franz Schorn in the forest near the Lonely House. I thought of doing so, but the same feeling which forbade me to do it upon the first discovery of the murder actuated me to-day and with renewed strength. Your meeting with him, and the wound in his hand, now entirely healed, are the only grounds of suspicion against him, and you yourself proved to me how insignificant they are by your simple remark that I, too, might be subjected to suspicion from the same causes. I a.s.sure you, Herr Professor, that I cannot be sufficiently grateful to you for preventing me from taking a step which I might have repented forever. I do not deny that my suspicion of the man is even more deeply rooted now than it was then, but it behooves me to be all the more strict with myself, for hitherto I have discovered nothing which could justify me in accusing the man whom, nevertheless, I detest profoundly. Should I do so, all the world would believe that I was endeavouring to be rid of a hated rival."

I could not but admit that he was right. Circ.u.mstances were really most unfortunate for him. The Lonely House deserved its name now still more than formerly. It was utterly lonely. After the body of its owner had been interred in the graveyard of the village of Oberberg, the Captain had closed it. Anna and her old maid had come to Luttach; she had at last yielded to the persuasions of the Captain, the Burgomaster, and the doctor, and had accepted an asylum in the doctor's house. A couple of unused rooms were quickly furnished for herself and old Johanna.

They did not live there as guests of the owner, but as lodgers. It was only with the stipulation that there should be no restriction of her freedom that she had yielded to the wishes of her relatives, and the first use which she made of this freedom was to declare that Franz Schorn was her future husband, who should lead her to the altar at the expiration of her year of mourning. In vain did the Burgomaster, the Captain, and the doctor entreat the young girl to reserve for a time such a declaration. Anna was not to be persuaded.

"It is just because all are against him; just because all seem to hate him in spite of his n.o.ble, lofty nature, that I will be true to him. I have been betrothed to him for two years. As long as my father lived I could not declare this boldly against his will, but now I can do so."