 Chapter 5
On the fourth day comes the astrologer from his crumbling
old tower up the valley, where he had heard the news, I reckon. He had a private
talk with us, and we told him what we could, for we were mightily in dread of
him. He sat there studying and studying awhile to himself; then he asked:
"How many ducats did you say?"
"Eleven hundred and seven, sir."
Then he said, as if he were talking to himself: "It is
ver-y singular. Yes... very strange. A curious coincidence." Then he began to
ask questions, and went over the whole ground from the beginning, we answering.
By and by he said: "Eleven hundred and six ducats. It is a large sum."
"Seven," said Seppi, correcting him.
"Oh, seven, was it? Of course a ducat more or less isn't
of consequence, but you said eleven hundred and six before."
It would not have been safe for us to say he was mistaken,
but we knew he was. Nikolaus said, "We ask pardon for the mistake, but we meant
to say seven."
"Oh, it is no matter, lad; it was merely that I noticed
the discrepancy. It is several days, and you cannot be expected to remember
precisely. One is apt to be inexact when there is no particular circumstance to
impress the count upon the memory."
"But there was one, sir," said Seppi, eagerly.
"What was it, my son?" asked the astrologer,
indifferently.
"First, we all counted the piles of coin, each in turn,
and all made it the same -- eleven hundred and six. But I had slipped one out,
for fun, when the count began, and now I slipped it back and said, `I think
there is a mistake -- there are eleven hundred and seven; let us count again.'
We did, and of course I was right. They were astonished; then I told how it came
about."
The astrologer asked us if this was so, and we said it
was.
"That settles it," he said. "I know the thief now. Lads,
the money was stolen."
Then he went away, leaving us very much troubled, and
wondering what he could mean. In about an hour we found out; for by that time it
was all over the village that Father Peter had been arrested for stealing a
great sum of money from the astrologer. Everybody's tongue was loose and going.
Many said it was not in Father Peter's character and must be a mistake; but the
others shook their heads and said misery and want could drive a suffering man to almost anything. About one detail there
were no differences; all agreed that Father Peter's account of how the money
came into his hands was just about unbelievable -- it had such an impossible
look. They said it might have come into the astrologer's hands in some such way,
but into Father Peter's, never! Our characters began to suffer now. We were
Father Peter's only witnesses; how much did he probably pay us to back up his
fantastic tale? People talked that kind of talk to us pretty freely and frankly,
and were full of scoffings when we begged them to believe really we had told
only the truth. Our parents were harder on us than any one else. Our fathers
said we were disgracing our families, and they commanded us to purge ourselves
of our lie, and there was no limit to their anger when we continued to say we
had spoken true. Our mothers cried over us and begged us to give back our bribe
and get back our honest names and save our families from shame, and come out and
honorably confess. And at last we were so worried and harassed that we tried to
tell the whole thing, Satan and all -- but no, it wouldn't come out. We were
hoping and longing all the time that Satan would come and help us out of our
trouble, but there was no sign of him.
Within an hour after the astrologer's talk with us, Father
Peter was in prison and the money sealed up and in the hands of the officers of
the law. The money was in a bag, and Solomon Isaacs said he had not touched it
since he had counted it; his oath was taken that it was the same money, and that
the amount was eleven hundred and seven ducats. Father Peter claimed trial by
the ecclesiastical court, but our other priest, Father Adolf, said an
ecclesiastical court hadn't jurisdiction over a suspended priest. The bishop
upheld him. That settled it; the case would go to trial in the civil court. The
court would not sit for some time to come. Wilhelm Meidling would be Father
Peter's lawyer and do the best he could, of course, but he told us privately
that a weak case on his side and all the power and prejudice on the other made
the outlook bad.
So Marget's new happiness died a quick death. No friends
came to condole with her, and none were expected; an unsigned note withdrew her
invitation to the party. There would be no scholars to take lessons. How could
she support herself? She could remain in the house, for the mortgage was paid
off, though the government and not poor Solomon Isaacs had the mortgage-money in
its grip for the present. Old Ursula, who was cook, chambermaid, housekeeper,
laundress, and everything else for Father Peter, and had been Marget's nurse in
earlier years, said God would provide. But she said that from habit, for she was
a good Christian. She meant to help in the providing, to make sure, if she could
find a way.
We boys wanted to go and see Marget and show friendliness
for her, but our parents were afraid of offending the community and wouldn't let
us. The astrologer was going around inflaming everybody against Father Peter,
and saying he was an abandoned thief and had stolen eleven hundred and seven
gold ducats from him. He said he knew he was a thief from that fact, for it was
exactly the sum he had lost and which Father Peter pretended he had "found."
In the afternoon of the fourth day after the catastrophe
old Ursula appeared at our house and asked for some washing to do, and begged my
mother to keep this secret, to save Marget's pride, who would stop this project
if she found it out, yet Marget had not enough to eat and was growing weak.
Ursula was growing weak herself, and showed it; and she ate of the food that was
offered her like a starving person, but could not be persuaded to carry any
home, for Marget would not eat charity food. She took some clothes down to the
stream to wash them, but we saw from the window that handling the bat was too
much for her strength; so she was called back and a trifle of money offered her,
which she was afraid to take lest Marget should suspect; then she took it,
saying she would explain that she found it in the road. To keep it from being a
lie and damning her soul, she got me to drop it while she watched; then she went
along by there and found it, and exclaimed with surprise and joy, and picked it
up and went her way. Like the rest of the village, she could tell every-day lies
fast enough and without taking any precautions against fire and brimstone on
their account; but this was a new kind of lie, and it had a dangerous look
because she hadn't had any practice in it. After a week's practice it wouldn't
have given her any trouble. It is the way we are made.
I was in trouble, for how would Marget live? Ursula could
not find a coin in the road every day -- perhaps not even a second one. And I
was ashamed, too, for not having been near Marget, and she so in need of
friends; but that was my parents' fault, not mine, and I couldn't help it.
I was walking along the path, feeling very down-hearted,
when a most cheery and tingling freshening-up sensation went rippling through
me, and I was too glad for any words, for I knew by that sign that Satan was by.
I had noticed it before. Next moment he was alongside of me and I was telling
him all my trouble and what had been happening to Marget and her uncle. While we
were talking we turned a curve and saw old Ursula resting in the shade of a
tree, and she had a lean stray kitten in her lap and was petting it. I asked her
where she got it, and she said it came out of the woods and followed her; and
she said it probably hadn't any mother or any friends and she was going to take
it home and take care of it. Satan said:
"I understand you are very poor. Why do you want to add
another mouth to feed? Why don't you give it to some rich person?"
Ursula bridled at this and said: "Perhaps you would like
to have it. You must be rich, with your fine clothes and quality airs." Then she
sniffed and said: "Give it to the rich -- the idea! The rich don't care for
anybody but themselves; it's only the poor that have feeling for the poor, and
help them. The poor and God. God will provide for this kitten."
"What makes you think so?"
Ursula's eyes snapped with anger. "Because I know it!" she
said. "Not a sparrow falls to the ground without His seeing it."
"But it falls, just the same. What good is seeing it
fall?"
Old Ursula's jaws worked, but she could not get any word
out for the moment, she was so horrified. When she got her tongue, she stormed
out, "Go about your business, you puppy, or I will take a stick to you!"
I could not speak, I was so scared. I knew that with his
notions about the human race Satan would consider it a matter of no consequence
to strike her dead, there being "plenty more"; but my tongue stood still, I
could give her no warning. But nothing happened; Satan remained tranquil --
tranquil and indifferent. I suppose he could not be insulted by Ursula any more
than the king could be insulted by a tumble-bug. The old woman jumped to her
feet when she made her remark, and did it as briskly as a young girl. It had
been many years since she had done the like of that. That was Satan's influence;
he was a fresh breeze to the weak and the sick, wherever he came. His presence
affected even the lean kitten, and it skipped to the ground and began to chase a
leaf. This surprised Ursula, and she stood looking at the creature and nodding
her head wonderingly, her anger quite forgotten.
"What's come over it?" she said. "Awhile ago it could
hardly walk."
"You have not seen a kitten of that breed before," said
Satan.
Ursula was not proposing to be friendly with the mocking
stranger, and she gave him an ungentle look and retorted: "Who asked you to come
here and pester me, I'd like to know? And what do you know about what I've seen
and what I haven't seen?"
"You haven't seen a kitten with the hair-spines on its
tongue pointing to the front, have you?"
"No -- nor you, either."
"Well, examine this one and see."
Ursula was become pretty spry, but the kitten was spryer,
and she could not catch it, and had to give it up. Then Satan said:
"Give it a name, and maybe it will come."
Ursula tried several names, but the kitten was not
interested.
"Call it Agnes. Try that."
The creature answered to the name and came. Ursula
examined its tongue. "Upon my word, it's true!" she said. "I have not seen this
kind of a cat before. Is it yours?"
"No."
"Then how did you know its name so pat?"
"Because all cats of that breed are named Agnes; they will
not answer to any other."
Ursula was impressed. "It is the most wonderful thing!"
Then a shadow of trouble came into her face, for her superstitions were aroused,
and she reluctantly put the creature down, saying: "I suppose I must let it go;
I am not afraid -- no, not exactly that, though the priest -- well, I've heard
people -- indeed, many people... And, besides, it is quite well now and can take
care of itself." She sighed, and turned to go, murmuring: "It is such a pretty
one, too, and would be such company -- and the house is so sad and lonesome
these troubled days... Miss Marget so mournful and just a shadow, and the old
master shut up in jail."
"It seems a pity not to keep it," said Satan.
Ursula turned quickly -- just as if she were hoping some
one would encourage her.
"Why?" she asked, wistfully.
"Because this breed brings luck."
"Does it? Is it true? Young man, do you know it to be
true? How does it bring luck?"
"Well, it brings money, anyway."
Ursula looked disappointed. "Money? A cat bring money? The
idea! You could never sell it here; people do not buy cats here; one can't even
give them away." She turned to go.
"I don't mean sell it. I mean have an income from it. This
kind is called the Lucky Cat. Its owner finds four silver groschen in his pocket
every morning."
I saw the indignation rising in the old woman's face. She
was insulted. This boy was making fun of her. That was her thought. She thrust
her hands into her pockets and straightened up to give him a piece of her mind.
Her temper was all up, and hot. Her mouth came open and let out three words of a
bitter sentence,... then it fell silent, and the anger in her face turned to
surprise or wonder or fear, or something, and she slowly brought out her hands
from her pockets and opened them and held them so. In one was my piece of money,
in the other lay four silver groschen. She gazed a little while, perhaps to see
if the groschen would vanish away; then she said, fervently:
"It's true -- it's true -- and I'm ashamed and beg
forgiveness, O dear master and benefactor!" And she ran to Satan and kissed his
hand, over and over again, according to the Austrian custom.
In her heart she probably believed it was a witch-cat and
an agent of the Devil; but no matter, it was all the more certain to be able to
keep its contract and furnish a daily good living for the family, for in matters
of finance even the piousest of our peasants would have more confidence in an
arrangement with the Devil than with an archangel. Ursula started homeward, with
Agnes in her arms, and I said I wished I had her privilege of seeing Marget.
Then I caught my breath, for we were there. There in the
parlor, and Marget standing looking at us, astonished. She was feeble and pale,
but I knew that those conditions would not last in Satan's atmosphere, and it
turned out so. I introduced Satan -- that is, Philip Traum -- and we sat down
and talked. There was no constraint. We were simple folk, in our village, and
when a stranger was a pleasant person we were soon friends. Marget wondered how
we got in without her hearing us. Traum said the door was open, and we walked in
and waited until she should turn around and greet us. This was not true; no door
was open; we entered through the walls or the roof or down the chimney, or
somehow; but no matter, what Satan wished a person to believe, the person was
sure to believe, and so Marget was quite satisfied with that explanation. And
then the main part of her mind was on Traum, anyway; she couldn't keep her eyes
off him, he was so beautiful. That gratified me, and made me proud. I hoped he
would show off some, but he didn't. He seemed only interested in being friendly
and telling lies. He said he was an orphan. That made Marget pity him. The water
came into her eyes. He said he had never known his mamma; she passed away while
he was a young thing; and said his papa was in shattered health, and had no
property to speak of -- in fact, none of any earthly value -- but he had an
uncle in business down in the tropics, and he was very well off and had a
monopoly, and it was from this uncle that he drew his support. The very mention
of a kind uncle was enough to remind Marget of her own, and her eyes filled
again. She said she hoped their two uncles would meet, some day. It made me
shudder. Philip said he hoped so, too; and that made me shudder again.
"Maybe they will," said Marget. "Does your uncle travel
much?"
"Oh yes, he goes all about; he has business everywhere."
And so they went on chatting, and poor Marget forgot her
sorrow for one little while, anyway. It was probably the only really bright and
cheery hour she had known lately. I saw she liked Philip, and I knew she would.
And when he told her he was studying for the ministry I could see that she liked
him better than ever. And then, when he promised to get her admitted to the jail
so that she could see her uncle, that was the capstone. He said he would give
the guards a little present, and she must always go in the evening after dark,
and say nothing, "but just show this paper and pass in, and show it again when
you come out" -- and he scribbled some queer marks on the paper and gave it to
her, and she was ever so thankful, and right away was in a fever for the sun to
go down; for in that old, cruel time prisoners were not allowed to see their
friends, and sometimes they spent years in the jails without ever seeing a
friendly face. I judged that the marks on the paper were an enchantment, and
that the guards would not know what they were doing, nor have any memory of it
afterward; and that was indeed the way of it. Ursula put her head in at the door
now and said:
"Supper's ready, miss." Then she saw us and looked
frightened, and motioned me to come to her, which I did, and she asked if we had
told about the cat. I said no, and she was relieved, and said please don't; for
if Miss Marget knew, she would think it was an unholy cat and would send for a
priest and have its gifts all purified out of it, and then there wouldn't be any
more dividends. So I said we wouldn't tell, and she was satisfied. Then I was
beginning to say good-by to Marget, but Satan interrupted and said, ever so
politely -- well, I don't remember just the words, but anyway he as good as
invited himself to supper, and me, too. Of course Marget was miserably
embarrassed, for she had no reason to suppose there would be half enough for a
sick bird. Ursula heard him, and she came straight into the room, not a bit
pleased. At first she was astonished to see Marget looking so fresh and rosy,
and said so; then she spoke up in her native tongue, which was Bohemian, and
said -- as I learned afterward -- "Send him away, Miss Marget; there's not
victuals enough."
Before Marget could speak, Satan had the word, and was
talking back to Ursula in her own language -- which was a surprise to her, and
for her mistress, too. He said, "Didn't I see you down the road awhile ago?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ah, that pleases me; I see you remember me." He stepped
to her and whispered: "I told you it is a Lucky Cat. Don't be troubled; it will
provide."
That sponged the slate of Ursula's feelings clean of its
anxieties, and a deep, financial joy shone in her eyes. The cat's value was
augmenting. It was getting full time for Marget to take some sort of notice of
Satan's invitation, and she did it in the best way, the honest way that was
natural to her. She said she had little to offer, but that we were welcome if we
would share it with her.
We had supper in the kitchen, and Ursula waited at table.
A small fish was in the frying-pan, crisp and brown and tempting, and one could
see that Marget was not expecting such respectable food as this. Ursula brought
it, and Marget divided it between Satan and me, declining to take any of it
herself; and was beginning to say she did not care for fish to-day, but she did
not finish the remark. It was because she noticed that another fish had appeared
in the pan. She looked surprised, but did not say anything. She probably meant
to inquire of Ursula about this later. There were other surprises: flesh and
game and wines and fruits -- things which had been strangers in that house
lately; but Marget made no exclamations, and now even looked unsurprised, which
was Satan's influence, of course. Satan talked right along, and was
entertaining, and made the time pass pleasantly and cheerfully; and although he
told a good many lies, it was no harm in him, for he was only an angel and did
not know any better. They do not know right from wrong; I knew this, because I
remembered what he had said about it. He got on the good side of Ursula. He
praised her to Marget, confidentially, but speaking just loud enough for Ursula
to hear. He said she was a fine woman, and he hoped some day to bring her and
his uncle together. Very soon Ursula was mincing and simpering around in a
ridiculous girly way, and smoothing out her gown and prinking at herself like a
foolish old hen, and all the time pretending she was not hearing what Satan was
saying. I was ashamed, for it showed us to be what Satan considered us, a silly
race and trivial. Satan said his uncle entertained a great deal, and to have a
clever woman presiding over the festivities would double the attractions of the
place.
"But your uncle is a gentleman, isn't he?" asked Marget.
"Yes," said Satan indifferently; "some even call him a
Prince, out of compliment, but he is not bigoted; to him personal merit is
everything, rank nothing."
My hand was hanging down by my chair; Agnes came along and
licked it; by this act a secret was revealed. I started to say, "It is all a
mistake; this is just a common, ordinary cat; the hair-needles on her tongue
point inward, not outward." But the words did not come, because they couldn't.
Satan smiled upon me, and I understood.
When it was dark Marget took food and wine and fruit, in a
basket, and hurried away to the jail, and Satan and I walked toward my home. I
was thinking to myself that I should like to see what the inside of the jail was
like; Satan overheard the thought, and the next moment we were in the jail. We
were in the torture-chamber, Satan said. The rack was there, and the other
instruments, and there was a smoky lantern or two hanging on the walls and
helping to make the place look dim and dreadful. There were people there -- and
executioners -- but as they took no notice of us, it meant that we were
invisible. A young man lay bound, and Satan said he was suspected of being a
heretic, and the executioners were about to inquire into it. They asked the man
to confess to the charge, and he said he could not, for it was not true. Then
they drove splinter after splinter under his nails, and he shrieked with the
pain. Satan was not disturbed, but I could not endure it, and had to be whisked
out of there. I was faint and sick, but the fresh air revived me, and we walked
toward my home. I said it was a brutal thing.
"No, it was a human thing. You should not insult the
brutes by such a misuse of that word; they have not deserved it," and he went on
talking like that. "It is like your paltry race -- always lying, always claiming
virtues which it hasn't got, always denying them to the higher animals, which
alone possess them. No brute ever does a cruel thing -- that is the monopoly of
those with the Moral Sense. When a brute inflicts pain he does it innocently; it
is not wrong; for him there is no such thing as wrong. And he does not inflict
pain for the pleasure of inflicting it -- only man does that. Inspired by that
mongrel Moral Sense of his! A sense whose function is to distinguish between
right and wrong, with liberty to choose which of them he will do. Now what
advantage can he get out of that? He is always choosing, and in nine cases out
of ten he prefers the wrong. There shouldn't be any wrong; and without the Moral
Sense there couldn't be any. And yet he is such an unreasoning creature that he
is not able to perceive that the Moral Sense degrades him to the bottom layer of
animated beings and is a shameful possession. Are you feeling better? Let me
show you something."
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
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