The baroness, as was evident, was thorough in whatever she undertook.
She waited for the full obscuration--until the last vestige of moonlight
had vanished, and only a strange-looking, dull, copper-hued ball hung in
the sky.

The baroness now rose and went into the house. The astronomer on the
castle tower observed that she neglected to close the veranda door.

It was now quite dark; the silence of midnight reigned over everything.

Count Vavel waited in his observatory until the moon emerged from
shadow.

Instead of the moon, something quite different came within the field of
vision.

From the shrubbery in the rear of the manor there emerged a man. He
looked cautiously about him, then signaled backward with his hand,
whereupon a second man, then a third and a fourth, appeared.

Dark as it was, the count could distinguish that the men wore masks, and
carried hatchets in their hands. He could not see what sort of clothes
they wore.

They were robbers.

One of the men swung himself over the iron trellis of the veranda; his
companions waited below, in the shadow of the gate.

The count hastened from his observatory.

First he wakened Henry.

"Robbers have broken into the manor, Henry!"

"The rascals certainly chose a good time to do it; now that the moon is
in shadow, no one will see them," sleepily returned Henry.

"I saw them, and I am going to scare them away."

"We can fire off our guns from here; that will scare them," suggested
Henry.

"Are you out of your senses, Henry? We should frighten Marie; and were
she to learn that there are robbers in the neighborhood, she would want
to go away from here, and you know we are chained to this place."

"Yes; then I don't know what we can do. Shall I go down and rouse the
village?"

"So that you may be called on to testify before a court, and be
compelled to tell who you are, what you are, and how you came here?"
impatiently interposed the count.

"That is true. Then I can't raise an alarm?"

"Certainly not. Do as I tell you. Stop here in the castle, take your
station in front of Marie's door, and I will go over to the manor. Give
me your walking-stick."

"What? You are going after the robbers with a walking-stick?"

"They are only petty thieves; they are not real robbers. Men of this
sort will run when they hear a footstep. Besides, there are only four of
them."

"Four against one who has nothing but a cudgel!"

"In which is concealed a sharp poniard--a very effective weapon at close
quarters," supplemented the count. "But don't stop here talking, Henry.
Fetch the stick, and my driving-coat, into the pocket of which put my
bloodletting instruments. Some one might faint over yonder, and I should
need them."

Henry brought the stick and coat. Only after he had gone some distance
from the castle did Count Vavel notice that some heavy object kept
thumping against his side. The faithful Henry had smuggled a
double-barreled pistol into the pocket of his coat, in addition to the
bloodletting instruments. The count did not take the road which ran
around the cove to the manor, but hurried to the shore, where he sprang
into his canoe, and with a few powerful strokes of the oars reached the
opposite shore. A few steps took him to the manor. His heart beat
rapidly. He had a certain dread of the coming meeting--not the meeting
with the robbers, but with the baroness.

The gates of the manor were open, as was usual in Hungarian manors day
and night. The count crossed the court, and as he turned the corner of
the house there happened what he had predicted: the masked man who was
on watch at the door gave a shrill whistle, then dashed into the
shrubbery. Count Vavel did not give chase to the fleeing thief, but,
swinging his cudgel around his head, ran through the open door into the
hall. Here a lamp was burning. He hurried into the salon, and saw, as he
entered, two more of the robbers jump from the window into the garden.

Count Ludwig hurried on toward the adjoining room, whence came the faint
light of a lamp. The light came from another room still farther on. It
was the sleeping-chamber of the lady of the house. There were no robbers
here, but on the table lay jewelry and articles of silver which had been
emptied from the cases lying about the floor. In an arm-chair which
stood near the bed-alcove reclined a female form, the arms and hands
firmly bound with cords to the chair.

What a beautiful creature! The clinging folds of her dressing-robe
revealed the perfect proportions of her figure. Her hair fell like a
golden cataract to the floor. Modest blushes and joy at her deliverance
made the lovely face even more enchanting when the knightly deliverer
entered the room--a hero who came with a cudgel to do battle against a
band of robbers, and conquered!

"I am Count Vavel," he hastened to explain, cudgel in hand, that the
lady might not think him another robber and fall into a faint.

"Pray release me," in a low tone begged the lady, her cheeks crimsoning
with modest shame when he bent over her to untie the cords.

The task was quickly performed; the count took a knife from his pocket
and cut the cords; then he turned to look for a bell.

"Please don't ring," hastily interposed the baroness. "Don't rouse my
people from their slumbers. The robbers are gone, and have taken
nothing. You came in good time to help me."

"Did the rascals ill-treat you, baroness?"

"They only tied me to this chair; but they threatened to kill me if I
refused to give them money--they were not content to take only my
jewelry. I was about to give them an order to the steward, who has
charge of my money, when your arrival suddenly ended the agreement we
had made."

"Agreement?" repeated the count. "A pretty business, truly!"

"Pray don't speak so loudly; I don't want any one to be alarmed--and
please go into the next room, where you will find my maid, who is also
bound."

Count Vavel went into the small chamber which communicated with that of
the baroness, and saw lying on the bed a woman whose hands and feet were
bound; a handkerchief had been thrust into her mouth. He quickly
released her from the cords and handkerchief; but she did not stir: she
had evidently lost consciousness.

By this time the baroness had followed with a lighted candle. She had
flung a silken shawl about her shoulders, thrust her feet into Turkish
slippers, and tucked her hair underneath a becoming lace cap.

"Is she dead?" she asked, lifting an anxious glance to Ludwig's face.

"No, she is not dead," replied the count, who was attentively scanning
the unconscious woman's face.

"What is the matter with her?" pursued the baroness, with evident
distress.

The count now recognized the woman's face. He had seen her with the lad
who had been his protege, and who was now a member of the baroness's
household. It was the wife of Satan Laczi.

"No, she is not dead," he repeated; "she has only fainted."

The baroness hastily fetched her smelling-salts, and held them to the
unconscious woman's nostrils.

"Peasant women have strong constitutions," observed the count. "When
such a one loses consciousness a perfume like that will not restore her;
she needs to be bled."

"But good heavens! What are we to do? I can't think of sending for the
doctor now! I don't want him to hear of what has happened here
to-night."

"I understand bloodletting," observed Vavel.

"You, Herr Count?"

"Yes; I have studied medicine and surgery."

"But you have no lance."

"I brought my chirurgic instruments with me."

"Then you thought you might find here some one who had fainted?"
exclaimed the baroness, wonderingly.

"Yes. I shall require the assistance of a maid to hold the woman's arm
while I perform the operation."

"I don't want any of the servants wakened. Can't I--help you?" she
suggested hesitatingly.

"Are not you afraid of the sight of blood, baroness?"

"Of course I am; but I will endure that rather than have one of my maids
see you here at this hour."

"But this one will see me when she recovers consciousness."

"Oh, I can trust this one; she will be silent."

"Then let us make an attempt."

The result of the attempt was, the fainting maid was restored to
consciousness by the skilfully applied lance, while the face of the
assisting lady became deathly pale. Her eyes closed, her lips became
blue. Fortunately, she had a more susceptible nature than her maid. A
few drops of cold water sprinkled on her face, and the smelling-salts,
quickly restored her to consciousness. During these few moments her head
had rested on the young man's shoulder, her form had been supported on
his arm.

"Don't trouble any further about me," she murmured, when she opened her
eyes and saw herself in Vavel's arms; "but attend to that poor woman";
and she hastily rose from her recumbent position.

The woman was shivering with a chill--or was it the result of extreme
terror? If the former, then a little medicine would soon help her; but
if it was terror, there was no remedy for it.

To all questions she returned but the one answer: "Oh, my God! my God!"

The baroness and Count Vavel now returned to the outer room.

"I regret very much, baroness, that you have had an unpleasant
experience like this--here in our peaceful neighborhood, where every one
is so honest that you might leave your purse lying out in the court; no
one would take it."

The baroness laughingly interrupted him:

"The robber adventure amused more than it frightened me. All my life I
have wanted to see a real Hungarian robber, of whom the Viennese tell
such wonderful tales. My wish has been gratified, and I have had a real
adventure--the sort one reads in romances."

"Your romance might have had a sorrowful conclusion," responded Count
Ludwig, seriously.

"Yes--if Heaven had not sent a brave deliverer to my rescue."

"You may well say Heaven sent him," smilingly returned the count; "for
if there had not been an eclipse of the moon to-night, which I was
observing through my telescope, and at the same time taking a look about
the neighborhood, I should not have seen the masked men enter the
manor."

"What!" in astonishment exclaimed the baroness; "you saw the men through
a telescope? Truly, _I_ shall have to be on my guard in future! But,"
she added more seriously, lifting from the table the count's
walking-stick, toward which he had extended his hand, "before you go I
want to beg a favor. Please do not mention the occurrence of this night
to any one. I don't want the authorities to make any inquiries
concerning the attempted robbery."

"That favor I grant most willingly," replied Count Vavel, who had not
the least desire for a legal examination which would require him to tell
who he was, what he was, whence he came, and what he was doing here.

"I can tell you why I don't want the affair known," continued the
baroness. "The woman in yonder is the one of whom I wrote you some time
ago--the wife of Ladislaus Satan, or, as he is called, Satan Laczi.
Should it become known that a robbery was attempted here, the villagers
will say at once, 'It was the wife of the robber Satan Laczi who helped
the men to rob her mistress,' and the poor woman will be sent back to
prison."

"And do you really believe her innocent?"

"I can assure you that she knew nothing about this matter. I shall not
send her away, but, as a proof that I trust her entirely, shall let her
sleep in the room next to mine, and let her carry all my keys!" To
emphasize her declaration, she thumped the floor vigorously with Vavel's
iron-ferruled stick.

Involuntarily the count extended his hand to her. She grasped it
cordially, and, shaking it, added: "Don't speak of our meeting to-night
to any one; I shall not mention it, I can promise you! And now, I will
give you your stick; I am certain some one at home is anxious about you.
God be with you!"

At home Count Vavel found Henry on guard at the door of Marie's room,
his musket cocked, ready for action.

"Did anything happen here?" asked the count. "Did Marie waken?"

"No; but she called out several times in her sleep, and once I heard her
say quite distinctly: 'Ludwig, take care; she will bite!"

*       *       *       *       *

Count Vavel could not deny that his fair neighbor had made a very
favorable impression on him. In astronomy she had taken the place of the
moon, in classic literature that of an ideal, and in metaphysics that of
the absolutely good.

He had sufficient command of himself, however, to suppress the desire to
see her again. From that day he did not again turn his telescope toward
the neighboring manor. But to prevent his thoughts from straying there
was beyond his power. These straying thoughts after a while began to
betray themselves in his countenance and in his eyes; and there are
persons who understand how to read faces and eyes.

"Are you troubled about anything, Ludwig?" one day inquired Marie,
after they had been sitting in silence together for a long while.

Ludwig started guiltily.

"Ye-es; I have bad news from abroad."

Such a reply, however, cannot deceive those who understand the language
of the face and eyes.

One afternoon Marie stole noiselessly up to the observatory, and
surprised Ludwig at the telescope.

"Let me see, too, Ludwig. Are you looking at something pretty?"

"Very pretty," answered Ludwig, giving place to the young girl.

Marie looked through the glass, and saw a farm-yard overgrown with
weeds. On an inverted tub near the door of the cottage sat a little old
grandmother teaching her grandchildren how to knit a stocking.

"Then you were not looking at our lovely neighbor," said Marie. "Why
don't you look at her?"

"Because it is not necessary for me to know what she is doing."

Marie turned the telescope toward the manor, and persisted until she had
found what she was looking for.

"How sad she looks!" she said to Ludwig.

But he paid no attention to her words.

"Now it seems as though she were looking straight into my eyes; now she
clasps her hands as if she were praying."

Ludwig said, with pedagogic calmness:

"If you continue to gaze with such intensity through the telescope your
face will become distorted."

Marie laughed. "If I had a crooked mouth, and kept one eye shut, people
would say, 'There goes that ugly little Marie!' Then I should not have
to wear a veil any more."

She distorted her face as she had described, and turned it toward
Ludwig, who said hastily: "Don't--don't do that, Marie."

"Is it not all the same to you whether I am ugly or pretty?" she
retorted. Then, as if to soften the harshness of her words, she added:
"Even if I were ugly, would you love me--as the fakir loves his Brahma?"

*       *       *       *       *

Ludwig continued his correspondence with the learned Herr Mercatoris. He
always dictated his letters to Marie. No one in the neighborhood had yet
seen his own writing. Therefore, it would have been impossible for him
to ask the pastor anything relating to the baroness without Marie
knowing it. In one of his letters, however, he inquired how the mother
of the lad he had once had in his care was conducting herself at the
manor, and was informed that the woman had disappeared--and without
leaving any explanation for her conduct--a few days after the eclipse of
the moon. The baroness had been greatly troubled by the woman's going,
but would not consent to having a search made for her, as she had taken
nothing from the manor.

This incident made Count Vavel believe that the woman had secretly
joined the band of robbers, and that there would be another attempt made
sometime to break into the manor.

From that time the count slept more frequently in his observatory than
he did in his bedchamber, where an entire arsenal of muskets and other
firearms were always kept in readiness.

One evening, when he approached the door of his room, he was surprised
to see a light through the keyhole; some one was in the room.

He entered hastily. On the table was a lighted candle, and standing with
his back toward the table was a strange man, clad in a costume unlike
that worn by the dwellers in that neighborhood.

For an instant Count Vavel surveyed the stranger, who was standing
between him and his weapons; then he demanded imperiously:

"Who are you? How came you here, and what do you want?"

"I am Satan Laczi," coolly replied the man.

On hearing the name, Count Vavel sprang suddenly toward the robber, and
seized him by the arms. The fellow's arms were like the legs of a
vulture--nothing but bone and sinew. Count Vavel was an athletic man,
strong and powerful; but had the room been filled with men as strong and
powerful as he, and had they every one hurled themselves upon Satan
Laczi, he would have had no difficulty in defending himself. He had
performed such a feat more than once. This evening, however, he made no
move to defend himself, but looked calmly at his assailant, and said:
"The Herr Count can see that I have no weapons; and yet, there are
enough here, had I wanted to arm myself against an attack. I am not here
for an evil purpose."

The count released his hold on the man's arms, and looked at him in
surprise.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"First, because I want to tell the Herr Count that it was not I who
attempted to rob the baroness, nor were those thieves comrades of mine.
I know that the people around here say it was Satan Laczi; but it
was n't, and I came to tell you so. I confess I have robbed churches;
but the house which has given shelter and food to my poor little lad is
more sacred to me than a church. The people insist that I was guilty of
such baseness because I am Satan Laczi; but the Herr Count, who has
doubtless read a description of my person, can say whether or no it was
I he saw at the manor."

With these words he turned his face toward the light. It was a very
repulsive countenance.

"Do you think there is another face that the description of mine would
fit, Herr Count?" he asked, a certain melancholy softening the
repulsiveness of his features. "But what is the use of such senseless
chatter?" he added hastily. "I am not silly enough to come here seeking
honor and respect--though it does vex me when people say that one man
with a cudgel put to flight Satan Laczi and three of his comrades. I
came here to-night because the Herr Count rescued my poor little lad
from the morass, gave him shelter and food, and even condescended to
teach him. For all this I owe you, Herr Count, and I am come to return
favor for favor. You are thinking: 'How can this robber repay me what he
owes?' I will tell you: by giving you a robber's information. I want to
prove to the Herr Count that the robber--the true robber who understands
his trade--can enter this securely barred castle whenever he is so
minded. The locks on the doors, the bolts on the windows, are no
hindrance to the man who understands his business, and the way _I_ came
in another can come as well. It is said that the Herr Count guards a
great treasure here in this castle. I don't know, and I don't ask, what
this treasure is. If I should find it, I would n't take it from the Herr
Count, and if any one else took it I should try to get it back for him.
But some one may steal in here, as I did, while the Herr Count is
looking at the stars up in the tower, and carry off his carefully
guarded treasure."

Count Vavel gave utterance to a groan of terror; his knees gave way
beneath him; a chill shook his entire frame.

"Marie!" he gasped, forgetting himself.

Then, hastily snatching the candle from the table, he rushed
frantically toward the young girl's sleeping-chamber, leaving Satan
Laczi alone in his room.

Since he had ceased guarding Marie's door at night by sleeping on the
lounge in her room, he had cautioned her to lock the door before
retiring. Now he found the door open.

Breathless with fear, the count sprang toward the alcove and flung back
the bed-curtains. The little maid was sleeping peacefully, her face
resting against her arm. Her favorite cat was lying at her feet, and on
the floor by the bedside lay the two pugs. But the door of the
wall-cupboard in which was hidden the steel casket stood wide open, and
on the casket was a singular toy--a miniature human figure turning a
spinning-wheel.

For an instant Count Vavel's heart ceased beating. Here was sufficient
proof that the maid, together with the steel casket, might have been
carried away during his absence.

He took the curious image, which was molded of black bread, and returned
to his room.

As he crossed the threshold, Satan Laczi pointed to the toy and said:

"I left it on the casket as a remembrance in exchange for the little
stockings some one in this house knit for my little lad. We learn to
make such things in prison, where time hangs heavily on one's hands."

"But how did you manage to open the door when it was locked and the key
inside?" inquired the count.

Satan Laczi showed him the tools which he used to turn keys from the
outside.

"Any burglar can open a door from the outside if the key is left in the
lock, Herr Count. Only those doors can be securely locked which have no
keyholes outside."

"I have no idea how that could be arranged," said Count Vavel.

"I am acquainted with a jack of all trades here in the neighborhood who
could make such a door for you if I told him how to make it. He is a
carpenter, locksmith, and clock-maker, all in one person."

The count shook his head wonderingly. The robber was to direct the
locksmith how to fashion a lock that no one could open!

"Shall I send the man to the castle?" asked Satan Laczi.

"Yes; if the fellow is sensible, and does not chatter."

"But he is a fool that never knows when to stop talking. But he talks
only on one subject, so you need not be afraid to employ him. He
understands everything you tell him, will do just as you say, but will
not talk about what he is doing for you. There is only one subject on
which he will chatter, and that is, how Napoleon might be beaten. He is
continually talking about stratagems, infernal machines, and how to win
a battle. On this subject he is crazy. He will make doors for the Herr
Count that can't be opened, and tell everybody else only how to make
infernal machines, and how to build fortifications."

"Very good; then send him to me."

"But--I must say something else, Herr Count--no matter how secure your
locks may be, that treasure is best guarded against robbers which is
kept in the room you sleep in. A man of courage is worth a hundred
locks. I am not talking without a purpose when I say the Herr Count must
look after his treasure. I know more than I say, and Satan Laczi is not
the greatest robber in the world. Be on your guard!"

"I thank you."

"Does the Herr Count still believe that it was I and my comrades who
broke into the manor?"

"No; I am convinced that it was not you."

"Then my mission here is accomplished--"

"Not yet," interposed the count, stepping to a cupboard, and taking from
it a straw-covered bottle and a goblet. "Here,"--filling the goblet and
handing it to the robber,--"he who comes to my house as a guest must not
quit it without a parting glass."

"A strange guest, indeed!" responded the robber, taking the proffered
glass. "I came without knocking for admittance. But I performed a
masterpiece to-day; the Herr Count will find it out soon enough! I do
not drink to your welfare Herr Count, for my good wishes don't go for
much in heaven!"

The count seated himself at the table, and said: "Don't go just yet, my
friend; I want to give you a few words of advice. I believe you are a
good man at heart. Quit your present mode of life, which will ultimately
lead you--"

"Yes, I know--to the gallows and to hell," interposed the robber.

"Take up some trade," pursued the count. "I will gladly assist you to
become an honest man. I will lend you the money necessary to begin work,
and you can pay me when you have succeeded. Surely honest labor is the
best."

"I thank you for the good advice, Herr Count, but it is too late. I know
very well what would be best for me; but, as I said, it is too late now.
There was a time when I would gladly have labored at my trade,--for I
have one,--but no one would tolerate me because of my repulsive face.
From my childhood I have been an object of ridicule and abuse. My father
was well-born, but he died in a political prison, and I was left
destitute with this hideous face. No one would employ me for anything
but swine-herd; and even then luck was against me, for if anything went
wrong with a litter of pigs, I was always blamed for the mishap, and
sent about my business. Count Jharose gave me a job once; it was a
ridiculous task, but I was glad to get any kind of honest work. I had to
exercise the count's two tame bears--promenade with them through the
village. The bears' fore paws were tied about their necks, so that they
were obliged to walk on their hind feet, and I had to walk between them,
my hands resting on a fore leg of each animal, as if I were escorting
two young women. When we promenaded thus along the village street, the
people would laugh and shout: 'There go Count Jharose's three tame
bears.' At last I got out of the way of doing hard work, and got used to
being ridiculed by all the world. But I had not yet learned to steal.
The bears grew fat under my care. I was given every day two loaves of
bread to feed to them. One day I saw, in a wretched hut at the end of
the village, a poor woman and her daughter who were starving. From that
day the bears began to grow thin; for I stole one of the loaves of bread
and gave it to the poor women, who were glad enough to get it, I can
tell you! But the steward found out my theft, and I was dismissed from
the count's service. The poor women were turned out of their miserable
hut. The mother froze to death,--for it was winter then,--and the
daughter was left on my hands. We got a Franciscan monk, whom we met in
the forest, to marry us--which was a bad move for the girl, for no one
would employ her, because she was my wife. So the forest became our
home, hollow trees our shelter; and what a friend an old tree can
become! Well, to make a long story short, necessity very soon taught me
how to take what belonged to others. I got used to the vagrant life. I
could not sleep under a roof any more. I could n't live among men, and
pull off my hat to my betters. When the little lad came into the world,
I said to my wife: 'Do you quit the forest, and look for work in some
village. Don't let the little one grow up to become a thief.' She did as
I bade her; but the people who hired her always found out that she was
the wife of Satan Laczi, and then they would not keep her, and she would
have to come back to me in the forest. And that is where I shall end my
days--in the forest. I am not good for anything any more; I could n't
even plow a furrow any more. I shall end on the gallows--I feel it. I
should have liked the life of a soldier, but they never would take me;
they always said I would disgrace any regiment to which I might belong.
Yes, I would rather have been a soldier than anything else; but what is
not to be will not be! I shall keep to my forest. I am obliged to the
Herr Count for his good wishes and this delicious brandy."

The robber placed the empty glass on the table, took up his hat, and
walked with heavy steps toward the door. Here he halted to say:

"I must tell you that the touch-holes of all your firearms are filled
with wax. Have them cleaned, or you will not be able to shoot with
them."

The count rose, and hastened to convince himself that this statement was
true. He found that his firearms had indeed been rendered useless; the
robber had taken good care to protect himself from an attack. When Vavel
looked around again, Satan Laczi had disappeared.




CHAPTER IV


The afternoon of the following day, Henry entered the count's study to
announce that a crazy person was below, who insisted on speaking to the
lord of the castle. The stranger said he had invented a cannon that
would at one shot destroy fifteen hundred men. He would take no denial,
but insisted that Henry should tell the Herr Count that Master Matyas
had arrived.

"Yes; I sent for him to come here," answered the count. "Show him up."

The appearance of the man whom Henry conducted to his master's presence
was certainly original. He wore a costume unlike any prevailing fashion.
His upper garment was so made that it might be worn either as a coat or
a mantle; if sleeves were desired there were sleeves, and none if none
were required. Even his shoes were inventions of his own, for no regular
shoemaker could have fashioned them. He held between the fingers of his
right hand a bit of lead-pencil, with which he would illustrate what he
described on the palm of his left hand.

"You come in good time, Master Matyas," said the count.

"Yes--yes. If only I had been in good time at the battle of Marengo!"
sighed the singular man.

"Too late now for regrets of that sort, Master Matyas," smilingly
responded Count Vavel. "Facts cannot be changed! I have a task for you