THE MOUTH OF HELL, page 33
During a moment of respite Christiane called her.
“Gretchen, swear that you will do what I ask.”
“I swear it, my dear mistress.”
“That, whatever happens, you will divulge my secret to no one, neither to the baron, nor to my Julius, nor even to that monster.”
“To no one.”
“If the child lives, Gretchen, you will take him to this Samuel, but without letting any one know, see, or suspect it.”
“That’s it!” exclaimed Gretchen, with savage delight, “let us fling the devil’s progeny back to the devil.”
“Ah! and yet it is my child, my only child!” said Christiane, seized with another paroxysm of pain. “Oh! but the poor infant must be dead! Oh! my God, let me die too, let me die too! Gretchen, if the child is dead, you will bury it, do you understand, yourself, alone, at night, in the forest. Do you swear to do this?”
“I swear.”
“And then, Gretchen, bury me too. Let no one know.... Oh! my Julius, adieu! I loved you so well.... To die without seeing you again!.... Gretchen, the secret, the secret; the secret at all costs.”
And she fell back senseless.
‘‘The secret; yes, I understand,” said Gretchen. And she repeated several times as if mechanically:
“The secret! — at all costs, the secret.”
“Because I have to present a petition to Napoleon.”
“What petition?”
“A petition that Samuel has himself drawn up. Can you imagine my position? To approach this great man, to look at him, speak to him if he questions me, speak to this sublime and colossal Emperor before whom the very cannon thunder in lowered tones. How can I do this in cold blood? Excited! I should think I am excited, my friend. Ah! at times I tingle from head to foot!”
“Nonsense!” said the traveller. “You exaggerate the matter. It’s a mere nothing to present a petition. Shall I present it for you?”
“No,” Trichter answered, “Samuel made me swear to present it myself.”
“Well! you will present it. An aide-de-camp will take it from you; the Emperor will go on his way, without even bestowing a glance upon you. Do not imagine for a moment that he will read your petition?”
“I am certain that he will,” said Trichter. “Samuel has made sure and reliable inquiries. At Mayence and all along the route, Napoleon has himself opened every petition and dictated the reply on the same evening. He is anxious to win popularity in Germany, which he is leaving in his rear.”
“And is this petition of great importance to you?”
“I should think so! It means bread for my old mother. Bread which I will not be able to drink away from her, for, do you know, I am a wretched, insatiable sponge. One day last year I had five thousand florins of my own. I sent her five hundred, with which she paid her debts. I fully intended to send her more. But for a long while our ideal, mine and that of one of my friends called Fresswanst, was to devote ourselves seriously and consistently to some comparative studies on foreign wines. We attacked this work in so conscientious a manner that within three months our throats had drained our purse.”
Raumer began to laugh. “Do not “laugh,” said Trichter, sadly. “Alas’! I lost at the same time my money and my friend. Fresswanst died, after the last bottle, of a rush of blood to the head. A sad end! Between ourselves,” Trichter added, lowering his voice, “was Fresswanst deserving of his reputation? Whatever may be the opinion of posterity as to this drinker, I was ruined. I tried to induce Samuel Gelb, my noble ‘senior ‘to arrange for a fresh emigration to Landeck. A delightful village, this Landock, where one goes to bed in nests, where one drinks unparalleled brandy, and from which one returns with five thousand florins! But Samuel would not yield to my wish. Yesterday, to compensate for his refusal, he advised me to present this position, which he himself has drawn up, and as to the result of which he has not a doubt.”
“But,” rejoined Raumer, “you have then some claim on Napoleon?”
“An uncle of mine was killed in his service. For you must know, my dear fellow, that I am half French on my mother’s side. That is why, although German and a student, I can ask a favour at Napoleon’s hands without scruple. I speak purer French than did Racine. My uncle was the one who supported my mother; the Emperor has robbed her of her support, it is only fair that he should come to her assistance. If he grants me the pension that I claim for her, it will relieve me of all filial anxiety, and I shall then be able to accomplish alone the experiments which my financial difficulties and the untimely death of that weak Fresswanst interrupted, so unfortunately for my researches. For, if I drink, do not run away with the idea that I do so with the vile object of personal gratification. It is long since it has been any pleasure to me to swill your mild insipid spirits. To me, kirsch and absinthe are milk and honey. With the exception of that species of brandy which I drank at Landeck, and which produced in me, I confess, a mild heat, everything tastes to me like plain water. It is from purely disinterested motives, in the interest of science and from simple love of humanity, that the dilettante who has the honour of addressing you persists in his researches. You will therefore understand of what importance it is to the world that the Emperor should receive and grant my petition.”
“He will grant it, I don’t doubt,” answered Raumer. “But I bear the cheers of the crowd.”
“Can it be the great Napoleon?” asked Trichter, all in a tremor.
“No. They are only shouting, ‘Long live France!’ Probably it is only some of the generals or aides-de-camp who precede him.”
“Thank God!” said Trichter, beginning to breathe again.
“Where will you present your petition to him? “Raumer asked.
“Oh! I have already decided on the place. At the entrance of the palace of the prince-primate. The Emperor is to alight there for breakfast, and to receive the deputations from round about. Two of the soldiers forming the line, ardent admirers of my capacity in the way of liquid, have promised to allow me to approach the great man. I am only afraid that I shall be nervous. Ah! if only I had been able to get under the influence of drink. You must think me a great chatterbox. But if I have been talking to you so volubly for the last half-hour, it has not been from the wish to weary you with my affairs, but to get my tongue in practice, if I have to address the Emperor. I am trying to screw my courage up to the sticking point.”
All of a sudden Trichter stopped speaking and began to tremble.
“Ah!” he stammered, “this time there is no mistaking the cry of ‘Long live the Emperor.’”
And indeed deafening shouts heralded the approach of the man-prodigy. An immense concourse of people surged towards the two men.
CHAPTER LXIX.
POISON.
THERE was no mistaking the meaning of the shouts and the movement of the crowd.
“It is the Emperor, there’s no doubt about it,” said the traveller to Trichter; “let us make haste.”
And they hastened towards the palace of the prince-primate.
“I do beg of you, my dear Raumer,” said Trichter, “to stay near me as long as possible and not to go away. Remain close at hand until I return, that I may have the look of a friend to give me strength when I approach the terrible vision, and the arms of a friend to receive me if I swoon.”
He hurried up to two soldiers, who told him to keep close behind them and they would allow him to pass as the Emperor alighted from his horse.
It was time, for almost at once the square, already swarming with people, was invaded by such a crowd, that it became one seething mass, and it would have been impossible for Trichter and Raumer to force their way through the inextricable human maze.
To Trichter time flew by with the rapidity of lightning. His temples throbbed painfully. He felt his ‘heart sink within him, like a foundering ship. He felt tempted to forego his petition and the pension for his mother.
He even went so far as to hope that the Emperor might alter his mind, make peace with Russia, and return to France without entering the palace of the prince-primate.
Suddenly there was a flourish of trumpets, a beating of drums, and Napoleon emerged into the square, accompanied by a storm of cheers.
The Emperor rode beside the carriage of the Empress. He bowed to the crowd.
And Trichter grew more and more petrified at the approach of the Emperor, who, more truly than Atlas, carried the world on his shoulders, in his head, if not upon it.
Arrived in front of the palace of the prince-primate, Napoleon alighted.
The prince-primate, with his suite, stood at the entrance bare-headed.
He gave a short speech of enthusiastic welcome to the Emperor, who replied by a few well-chosen words of thanks; then the Empress stepped from her carriage, and the imperial couple prepared to mount the steps of the palace.
“Now is your time!” said one of the soldiers to Trichter. “Be quick.”
Trichter glanced despairingly at Raumer.
“Pray God for me!” he said.
Then, grasping his hand frantically, he advanced with an unsteady step, not, alas! the result of wine.
“Ah! a German student!” said Napoleon. “I love this proud young blood. What can I do for you, my friend?”
Trichter tried to reply, but his utterance was choked and he could not articulate a word.
All he could do was to hold out to this glorious Emperor the petition, which he held in his right hand; and even to accomplish this, he had to leave go his cap, which was in his left hand; he was incapable of holding two things at the same time.
The Emperor took the petition with a smile.
“Calm yourself,” said he. “Do you speak French?”
Trichter made a violent effort to regain his self-possession.
“My mother!...” he stammered out. “Your Majesty.... My uncle too.... He is dead.... But I.... I am not French.”
He felt that he was saying the very reverse to what he had intended.
“Well!” said the Emperor, “since you speak French, come in with me, and you yourself will tell me what you want.”
The drums beat the salute, and the Emperor ascended the steps, still holding the petition.
.Trichter walked behind him, bewildered, ill at ease in this procession, dazzled by all this magnificence, weighed down by all this glory, bathed in the sunshine.
They entered thus into the reception-hall.
The Emperor received graciously the envoys of kings and princes. For each one he had some flattering speech.
To General Schwartzemberg, who represented Austria, he spoke of his military talent, which he knew and appreciated.
To the Baron von Hermelinfeld, who came to offer the respects of the King of Prussia, he said that science was common to all nations, and that minds like his made all men fellow-countrymen.
When the representative of the Grand Duke of Saxe-Weimar was presented to him, he advanced quickly, drew him aside, conversed with him for some moments and, on leaving him said:
“Herr von Goethe, you are indeed a man!”
The audience over, the prince-primate requested the Emperor to pass into the dining-rooms.
“Will you kindly conduct the Empress thither?” said Napoleon. “I shall be with you in a moment. I have some instructions to give — Ah! where is my student?”
Trichter, who had slightly recovered his composure while the Emperor’s attention was diverted from him, felt his cursed emotion again get the better of him. He was hustled into a small room which the Emperor entered with only his secretary and two aides-de-camp.
Napoleon sat down at a table.
“Now, my friend,” said he to Trichter. “What do you wish to ask of me?”
“Sire, my mother.... or rather my uncle. Yes, sire, a brave soldier of your Majesty’s.....” Trichter’s hoarse voice tried to answer.
“Compose yourself,” said the Emperor. “Where is your petition? Ah! I have it.”
He handed it to Trichter.
“Come, since you cannot speak, read it. out to me.”
Trichter took the petition, broke open the seal, and unfolded it with trembling fingers.
But his eyes had scarcely rested upon it when he staggered and turned pale.
“Well! what is the matter?” said the Emperor.
Trichter fell to the ground, rigid and insensible.
The aides-de-camp rushed forward.
“Don’t go near, gentlemen,” exclaimed the Emperor, who had risen from his seat, “there is something behind this,”
“Shall we send for a doctor?” asked one of the aides-de-camp.
“No!” said the Emperor, his eyes fixed on the outstretched figure of Trichter. “Send for the Baron von Hermelinfeld. But no noise, no scene, not a word. Only the baron is to come.”
A minute later the baron entered.
“Sir,” said the Emperor, “here is a man who has just fallen down overpowered whilst reading a paper, see, that paper there, on the floor. Don’t touch it; he fell when unfolding it.”
The baron approached Trichter.
“The man is dead,” he said.
Then he went to the fireplace, took up the tongs, and, with the tongs, held the paper over the smoke, but without allowing the flame to touch it.
But he observed attentively the colour which the smoke assumed.
Then after a moment or two, he drew the paper nearer, and, slowly and cautiously, examined it, felt it, smelt it.
Then all of a sudden he was seen to turn pale.
He had just recognised the composition of a poison recovered from the middle ages, and the secret of which was known to only two persons living: himself and Samuel.
“You look pale,” said the Emperor. “It’s nothing,” rejoined the baron. “A last emanation, perhaps.”
“Do you recognise this poison?” asked Napoleon. “Can it put us on the track of the assassin?”
Baron von Hermelinfeld experienced a moment of hesitation and anxiety. For this once, the life of Samuel Gelb was in his hands.
After a short silence, he replied: “Sire, I am as yet unable to answer your Majesty. I must analyse this paper. But the probability is that I may discover some clue.”
“Very well,” said the Emperor. “I have every confidence in your skill and in your loyalty, Herr von Hermelinfeld. But above all, listen to me; we are five of us here. On your honour, gentlemen, on your life,” he added, turning to his aides-de-camp and his secretary, “I exact from you absolute silence. The attempt of a Friedrich Staps may be revealed on leaving a country, but not on entering it.”
CHAPTER LXX.
IN WHICH SAMUEL FALTERS.
AT the same hour as this was happening at Aschaffenburg, Samuel, in his subterranean chamber of the castle, was revealing to the Seven his attempt, and the means he had adopted.
“It is now a few minutes after ten,” Samuel said; “at this moment, Napoleon is dead, the Empire broken up, Germany free.”
The Seven answered not a word.
“You are silent! “Samuel resumed. “Am I to understand that you disapprove of what I have done?”
“Friedrich Staps sacrificed himself,” said one of the Seven.
“What a paltry scruple!” replied Samuel, shrugging his shoulders. “It is not the general who fires the gun. Besides, it seems to me that your vaunted Providence does not set to work in a different way to me, and that it makes use of us just as I have of Trichter. It employs us for the furtherance of its own plans, and does not hesitate to kill us if our death appears necessary to the life of an idea. What have I done differently? I have sacrificed Trichter, my friend. Of a drunkard I have made a martyr. I do not think he has lost by the exchange. Come, let us have done with these childish scruples! Are you satisfied with me?”
“The means you have employed,” the chief said at last, “are between you and your conscience. But if you have in truth delivered Germany, we will only consider the result, and you will have deserved well of your country and of the Tugendbund. When shall we receive the intelligence?”
“The traveller of the Neckar is already on his way! We must wait his arrival.”
They waited in the deepest anxiety... At one o’clock the bell rang.
“Here he comes,” said Samuel.
And he opened the door.
The traveller of the Neckar entered, slowly and gravely.
“Well?” they all asked.
“I will tell you what I have seen,” replied the traveller. “I have carried out to the letter the orders which Samuel Gelb conveyed to me from you. I was with Trichter up to the moment that he presented the petition to Napoleon. The Emperor made him accompany him into the Palace of the Prince-Primate.
“How wonderfully fortunate!” said Samuel.
“One moment!” said the traveller. “As Trichter did not return, I hung about the palace, trying to find some means of entrance, when I perceived two men glide out of a side door, carrying a covered stretcher, and go in the direction of the hospital. I followed these men. The curtain of the stretcher flew apart for one moment. A hand hung down. I recognised a glove similar to those which Trichter wore. I made enquiries from the porter at the hospital. He informed me that he had registered the death of a man, unknown, to be buried that same evening.”
“Trichter dead!” interrupted Samuel, visibly affected.
The traveller resumed:
“I went back in the direction of the palace. Just as I arrived in front of it, I saw the Emperor enter his carriage with the Empress, and drive off towards Wurtzburg, in the midst of the unanimous and enthusiastic cheering of the crowd.”
These words, which gave no room for doubt, were followed by a long silence.
“That is well,” said the president to the traveller from the Neckar, “you may withdraw.”
The man bowed and went out.
“Samuel Gelb,” resumed the chief, “God is more powerful than you. You have only killed your friend. If we have any advice to give you, it is that you should find a safe place for yourself as soon as you can.”
And, turning to his masked companions:
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