Page:The International - Volume 7.djvu/236

 ant alone remained calm; with secret satisfaction he gazed upon his superior, whom Nemesis had so suddenly thwarted in his selfish custom of helping himself to the best cut of meat.

In order to explain these phenomena I must mention that this castle of our tale—perhaps because of its uncomeliness and remoteness—was not a favorite with its present owners. Since the time of the old baron, who shortly before his death spent some months there, the place had not seen any member of the noble family within its weatherbeaten walls.

The rooms on the first floor set apart for the use of their lordships were filled with truly unnecessary luxury. Their only occupants were spiders which travelled on tender threads from the brightly painted ceilings to the rich carpets, intertwining with artistic webs the beautifully carved woodwork of velvet chairs and divans.

The functionaries of this estate knew their present masters only from hearsay. Written orders, rumors, tales such as travel from one estate to the other, and their fancies, combined to produce vivid pictures of the noble individuals who like gods with unseen hands, from the distance ruled their humble fates.

But to see these constant subjects of their dreams and talk, suddenly to meet these ideals face to face, was of course a prospect both dazzling and stunning.

Feverish activity seized the castle. Shrill squeaks of seldom used doors, noise of furniture moved hither and thither, sounds of busy brooms and dusters, all came from the upper chambers; the stewardess kept running from the chicken coop to the pig pen and back, without the least idea of what she was doing. The steward was in the office, hunting up daybooks and various keys, and heaping blame for reigning disorder upon the assistant’s head, while the assistant, in his room, entirely unconscious of his misdeeds, was generously treating the blonde curls of that very head to some perfumed oil.

Old Foltyn issued from the passageway with the drum still shouldered, anxiety twitching every muscle and wrinkle of his face, and his hand holding up a drumstick toward the approaching equipage as though, after Joshua’s example, he would command it to stand still till the preparations at the castle were completed. For through the old head flitted memories of bygone days: glorious arches, white clad and rose laden maidens, school children, the welcome speeches, flowers strewn on the path

But the equipage would not be charmed. Nearer and nearer it came. Already it had passed through the village and turned into the road leading to the castle. Foltyn scarcely had time to step aside and raise his shaggy cap when the noble equipage rumbled into the passageway.

The occupants of the carriage were a gentleman and a lady. The gentleman, who was perhaps some forty years of age, was dressed elegantly, but all in black. His face was oval, and perfectly white except for the deep shadows beneath the eyes. His appearance on the whole was dull, sleepy; occasionally he yawned. His companion was young, a bright brunette with sparkling dark eyes, attired in light colors. With a peculiar smile savoring of playfulness and coquetry, she looked about.

When the carriage stopped in the passageway, where all the inmates of the castle greeted the noble visitors with reverential bows, the nobleman in black fixed his sleepy eyes upon old Foltyn, who stood in the foreground, an endless devotion mirrored in the honest blue eyes, a dejected expression on the wrinkled face and with the patrimonial drum at his side. For a moment his lordship stared at this interesting piece of ancestral inheritance. Then the noble muscles of the dull, pale face relaxed, and his lordship gave vent to a hearty laugh.

For a moment the bystanders in bewilderment looked from his lordship to old Foltyn and back again; then each for himself decided that loyalty demanded blind following of the noble example, and all began to laugh, the steward and his wife rather nervously; the happy-go-lucky Beruska and the fat footman with all their hearts. Even her ladyship smiled lightly, and very charmingly.

During this ordeal poor Foltyn presented a picture difficult to describe. Puzzled, he looked around him, paling and reddening alternately, and nervously smoothing first his cloak and then his moustaches. At last his eyes fell upon the ill fated drum, and he understood; he felt himself a ruined man!

A few pleasant words, and their highnesses retired to their apartments, leaving an impression of the happiest couple on earth. His lordship threw himself wearily into an armchair and began to amuse him-