The Marvellous History of the Shadowless Man and The Cold Heart Part 11

END OF PART I.

THE COLD HEART

PART II

On the Monday morning when Peter arrived at his Gla.s.sworks, he found not only his workpeople there, but also some very unwelcome visitors; these were the Bailiff and three of his myrmidons. The Bailiff greeted Peter with a "Good-morning," asked how he had slept, and then produced a lengthy doc.u.ment on which appeared the names of Peter's creditors.

"Can you settle or not?" demanded the official, with a keen glance at Peter. "And make haste, please, for I have very little time to spare, as the tower-clock struck three some time ago."

Then Peter, in despair, had to confess that he had no more money in the world, and made over to the Bailiff for apprais.e.m.e.nt all his property, including factory, stock, stables, horses, wagons, etc.; and as the official and his men went round making an inventory of everything, he thought to himself: "The Pine-grove is not so far away; and as the _Little One_ has not come to my aid, I'll try my luck with the _Big One_." And straightway he set off running for the Pine-grove as fast as if the officers of justice were at his heels.

As he pa.s.sed the spot where he had first spoken to the Gla.s.smanikin, he felt as though an invisible hand had caught hold of him; but he wrenched himself free, and ran on towards the ditch which, as he had had occasion to remember marked the boundary of Dutch Michael's domain, and no sooner did he spy it than he cried out with what breath he had left in his lungs: "Dutch Michael! Master Dutch Michael!" and immediately there stood before him the gigantic form of the raftsman, pole in hand.

"So, you've come!" cried Michael, with a laugh. "Did they want to strip the skin from your back in order to sell it for the benefit of your creditors? Well, don't worry about it; as I have already told you, for your troubles you have to thank that sanctimonious little hypocrite, the Gla.s.smanikin. When one gives at all, it should be with a lavish hand, and not stingily as is that n.i.g.g.ard's wont. But come," he continued, turning towards the forest, "follow me to my house, and we will see if we cannot strike a bargain."

"Strike a bargain?" thought Peter. "What can he get out of me? What have I to offer him? Must I serve him in some way; or what else will he require of me?"

At first, they climbed a steep incline which ended abruptly on the edge of a dark, deep, precipitous ravine. Dutch Michael sprang down from rock to rock as easily as down a broad staircase; and Peter nearly fainted with terror when he perceived how the form of the demon, as soon as the latter's foot had touched bottom, shot up to the height of a church steeple. Then the monster stretched forth an arm as long as a weaver's beam, and a hand as broad as a large table, crying out in a deep voice that sounded like a death-knell: "Stand on my hand and take hold of my fingers, so that you do not fall." Trembling all over, Peter did as he was bid, sitting down on the palm and steadying himself by grasping the gigantic thumb.

Deep down into the bowels of the earth he descended, but to Peter's surprise it grew no darker; on the contrary, the daylight seemed to become more and more intense in the ravine, until his eyes could scarcely bear the glare of it.

As Peter descended, Dutch Michael gradually decreased in size until when Peter had reached the ground the former had regained his normal stature, and there they stood before a house similar in all respects to those owned by well-to-do peasants in the Black Forest. The room, into which Peter was conducted, differed in no particular from the rooms of other Black Forest cottages, except that its appearance imparted a feeling of loneliness. The wooden clock hanging on the wall, the huge Dutch stove, the broad benches, the crockery arranged along the cornice were just as one might see anywhere.

Michael bade Peter take a seat at the great table, and then left the room, returning immediately with a jug of wine and gla.s.ses. He poured out some for Peter and himself, after which they sat and talked, Dutch Michael speaking of the joys of life, of foreign countries, of beautiful cities and rivers, until Peter became possessed of a longing to visit the same, and expressed his desire to the Dutchman.

[Ill.u.s.tration: And stretched forth an arm as long as a weaver's beam, and a hand as broad as a large table.]

"But even if your whole frame were pulsating with the courage and energy to undertake something of the sort, would not a few beats of that foolish heart of yours set you all of a tremble at the prospect?

And why should a sensible fellow such as you be troubled with such things as misfortune or wounded pride? The other day when they called you a cheat and a villain, was it in your head that you felt the disgrace? Did you get a pain in your stomach when the bailiff appeared just now and turned you out of doors? Come, tell me, where did you feel most anguish?"

"In my heart," Peter replied, pressing his hand on his throbbing breast; for he felt that his heart was turning over and over in his bosom.

"Now, don't be angry at what I am going to say--you have thrown away many a hundred guilders to beggars and other worthless people; and what profit has it brought you? They have showered blessings on your head, and wished you good health; but did you ever feel any better for that?

Why, you could have kept a physician on half the money you thus wasted.

A blessing, indeed--a fine blessing, now that they have seized your goods and turned you out! What was it that drove you to dive your hands into your pockets every time a beggarman stretched out his tattered hat to you?--Your heart it was, and always your heart; never your eyes, nor your tongue, your arms, nor your legs,--but your heart; you have always taken it too much to heart, as the saying is."

"But how can one manage to avoid it? I am trying all I can to suppress it, but my heart keeps on thumping and causing me anguish."

"By yourself, poor wretch that you are, you can do nothing," cried the other with a laugh; "but just let me take charge of the fluttering thing, and you will see how much more pleasant it will be."

"Give you my heart?" shrieked the horrified Peter. "Why I should fall down dead on the spot! Not if I can help it!"

"Of course, if one of your master surgeons were to remove your heart, then you would die to a certainty; but with me it is quite another matter. But just come in here and satisfy yourself."

Saying which, he opened a door leading into another room, and bade Peter follow him. As the latter crossed the threshold his heart contracted convulsively, but he did not notice it, for the sight which now presented itself to him was too weird and amazing. On a number of wooden shelves stood gla.s.s-vessels filled with some transparent fluid, and in each of these was a human heart. Moreover, to every vessel was affixed a label upon which a name had been inscribed, several of which Peter's curiosity drove him to read. Here was the heart of the mayor of a neighbouring town; there, that of Fat Ezekiel; in the next vessel lay the heart of the Dance-King; further on, was the head-forester's heart.

Here were also six hearts of well-known corn-brokers, eight belonging to conscription overseers, three to money lenders; in short, it was a collection of hearts of the most respected people in the district for twenty miles round.

"Look," said Dutch Michael, "all these people have shaken themselves free from the cares and troubles of life! These hearts beat anxiously and painfully no longer, and their original owners rejoice that they have been able to rid themselves of such restless companions."

"But what do they carry in their b.r.e.a.s.t.s in place of these?" asked Peter, who was quite faint with all that he had seen.

"This!" answered the other, as he took from a drawer _a heart of stone_.

"What?" cried Peter, unable to repress a shudder which affected his entire frame. "_A heart of marble?_ But, if it is as you say, Master Dutch Michael, such a thing must feel very cold inside one's bosom."

"Not exactly cold, but quite pleasantly cool. Why should one's heart be warm? It doesn't keep you warm in winter--a good gla.s.s of spirits is far better for that purpose than a warm heart; while in summer, when it is so hot and close, you cannot think how cooling is the effect of such a heart as this. Besides which, as I have already told you, such a heart as this never throbs with anguish or terror, with foolish compa.s.sion or with any other emotion."

"And is that all that you have to give me?" asked Peter disappointedly.

"I hoped for money, and you offer me a stone!"

"Well, perhaps a hundred thousand guilders may satisfy you for a start.

If you went the right way to work, you would soon be a millionaire."

"A hundred thousand?" cried the poor charcoal-burner in an ecstasy.

"There, don't beat so violently in my breast, we shall soon have done with one another. Good, Michael! give me the stone and the money, and you may relieve this habitation of its restless inmate."

"Ah, I was sure that you were a sensible fellow!" answered the Dutchman, smiling amiably. "Come, we will have just one more gla.s.s, and then I will count out the money for you!"

Whereupon they returned to the other room, and sat down to their wine, drinking gla.s.s after gla.s.s, until Peter fell into a deep sleep.

Charcoal-Peter was awakened by the joyous fanfare of a posthorn, and behold he was sitting in a coach, which was bowling along a handsome broad highway, and when he leaned out of the window he could see the Black-Forest lying far behind him in the distance. At first he could not believe that it was he himself who could be thus sitting in this coach. His clothes were not the same that he had been wearing the day before; yet he remembered everything that had happened so clearly, that at last he doubted no longer, but cried out: "I am Charcoal-Peter, that's certain--Charcoal-Peter Munk and no other!"

He fell to wondering why it was that he could feel no regret, considering that, for the first time in his life, he had left the peaceful homestead and the forest where he had lived so long. Even when the thought of his mother occurred to him, helpless and wretched as she must be now, no tear came to his eyes, not a sigh escaped him--he felt so absolutely indifferent to everything. "Truly," he muttered, "tears and sighs, homesickness and melancholy, all come from the heart; thanks to Dutch Michael, mine is cold and made of stone."

He laid his hand on his breast; all was still within; there was no movement whatever. "If he has kept his word as to the hundred thousand guilders as he has with regard to my heart, I shall be quite content,"

he cried, beginning to examine everything in the coach. He found wearing apparel in such quant.i.ty and of such variety as he could possibly desire, but no money. At last he came upon a pocket in which he found many thousands of thalers in gold, besides bills drawn on business houses in all the great cities. "Now I have got what I want,"

he thought, and he settled himself comfortably in a corner of the coach, as it drove onward into the wide world.

For two years Peter drove about everywhere, gazing to left and right from his coach at the houses as he pa.s.sed them, and at the signboards of the inns at which he stopped, afterwards wandering about the towns, where everything that was worthy of note was shown to him. But he found pleasure in nought;--no picture, no building, no music, no dance,--nothing could move his heart of stone; his eyes and ears could no longer convey to him any sense of the beautiful. Nothing remained for him but to take what joy he could in eating, drinking, and sleeping; and thus he lived; travelling aimlessly about the world, eating, drinking for his sole entertainment, and sleeping his only escape from ennui. Now and then he would recollect how he had been happier when he was poor and had to work for his living. Then every beautiful vista over hill and vale had enchanted him, music and song had always delighted him, and he had found lasting enjoyment in the simple fare brought him by his mother as he sat by the charcoal pile.

And as he pondered on the fact, he thought it very strange that now he could laugh at nothing, whereas, formerly, he had been wont to roar over the smallest joke. Now, when others laughed, he, for politeness'

sake, distended his mouth, but there was no laughter in his heart. He perceived then that this outward tranquility of his brought no contentment. In the end it was not homesickness or melancholy which drove him homeward, but a depressing sense of solitude and joylessness.

As he drove over from Strasburg and came within view of the dark forest which was his home; when he saw for the first time since his departure the powerful frames, the friendly, trusty faces of the Black Foresters; as his ears caught the old familiar homely sounds, he put his hand to his heart, for his pulse beat more quickly, and he was sure that in another moment he must either rejoice or weep--but, how was it possible for him to be so foolish; had he not a heart of stone?

His first visit was to Dutch Michael, who welcomed him with all his old friendliness.

"Michael," he said to the latter, "I've been on my travels, and have seen everything; but it is all trash and humbug, and has only succeeded in boring me. Certainly, this stony thing of yours, which I bear in my bosom, saves me from much. I am never angry, and never sorrowful; but then I am never glad, and I feel as if I were only half alive. Cannot you put a little life into this stone heart? or, better still, give me back my old heart? It was my companion for five and twenty years, and if at times it did play me a bad turn, yet on the whole it was a merry and brave heart."

The forest spirit laughed grimly and bitterly.

"When you are dead, Peter Munk," he replied, "it will not fail you; then, indeed, will that soft, emotional heart be yours once more, and you will be able to feel whatever happens to you, joy or sorrow. But here on this earth it can never return to you! Yes, Peter, you have certainly been on your travels, but the way in which you lived was too aimless to be of any use to you. Settle down somewhere in the forest, build yourself a house, marry; set up in business--it is occupation of which you are in need; you were bored because you were idle, and yet you blamed it all upon this unoffending heart!"

Peter perceived that Michael was right in so far as his idleness was concerned, and determined to ama.s.s riches for himself. Michael gave him another hundred thousand guilders, and they parted good friends.