Strange! that now, just now, the most terrible moment of his life should recur to his memory, when, riding alone through the Cordilleras from Santiago to Mexico, he was taken prisoner by Indians between Mazatlan and Inpic, forced to ride at full speed through mountain gulleys, away from the track into the desert, with the fear that the end of the ride might be a couple of shots, and a bleeding corpse falling from the saddle, and writhing in the last death-agony on the dried-up grass.
The only apparent chance of escaping with his life lay in the absolute obedience with which he complied with every order of the Indians, and yet he found it easier to resolve to extinguish that last ray of hope, and begin the mad struggle for freedom, than any longer to endure the shame of being in the power of these wretches. But a man can snatch from his holsters a pistol, overlooked by the robbers, and, setting spurs to his horse, plunge from the steep path down the sides of the ravine, so as at least to die in his own fashion; while he cannot jump from the seat of a smart dogcart, into which he has climbed at the command of a pretty girl, and take refuge in the forest, even if the fine gentleman sitting beside him had no objection to such a flight, and would merely laugh at it.
“Here we are!” said the Count.
They had come to an opening in the forest, in the centre of which stood a stately building, flanked as it seemed with towers, and whose windows were brightly illuminated. The carriages rolled quickly over the smooth approach, and stopped at the entrance, from which several servants now came forward, to assist the visitors to alight.
VIII
The President had remarked in his note that the want of a mistress of the house might be felt by the young lady of their party, but as the want was one that could not be at once made good, he promised the Count absolution beforehand. The Count had immediately sent off a mounted messenger to his neighbour, Herr von Strummin, with the pressing request to come with his wife and daughter to Golmberg and make arrangements for passing the night there. The family were quite ready to do him this neighbourly service, and Frau and Fräulein von Strummin received Elsa in the hall and conducted her to her apartment, which adjoined their own.
The President rubbed his thin white hands together before the fire in his own comfortable room, while Johann arranged his things: “Very nice! very nice indeed! This ought quite to reconcile our self-willed young lady to her mishap, and restore her grumbling old father to a more sociable frame of mind.”
Elsa was thoroughly reconciled. Set free from her moving prison, to find a brightly-illuminated castle in the depths of the forest—servants with torches at the entrance—and in the ancient hall, with its curiously-twisted columns, the unexpected appearance of two ladies, who, stepping forward from among the weapons and armour with which the walls and pillars were hung, welcomed her warmly, and led her into the cosiest of rooms, a flaming fire on the hearth, wax candles burning brightly before a tall looking-glass in a rich antique frame, silk hangings of the most wonderful pattern repeated in every possible variety on the heavy curtains over the deep-set windows, the portières to the lofty gilt doors, and the hangings of the old-fashioned bed—all was so strange, so charming, so exactly what an adventure ought to be. Elsa shook the motherly-looking Frau von Strummin by the hand and thanked her for her trouble, and kissing the pretty, mischievous-looking, grey-eyed little girl, asked permission to call her “Meta,” as her mother did, who had just left the room. Meta responded with the greatest warmth to her embrace, and declared that nothing in the world could have pleased her more than this evening’s invitation. She and mamma had been so dull at Strummin—it was so horribly dull in the country—and then the Count’s letter came! She always liked coming to Golmberg, the forest was so beautiful, and the view from the summit of the tower or from the top of the Golmberg over the woods and sea was too enchanting. She did not often come here though; her mother did not much like the trouble of moving, and the gentlemen thought only of their shooting, their horses, and especially of themselves. So that she really had been not a little surprised at the Count being in such a hurry to provide company for the strange young lady, just as if he had known beforehand how sweet and charming the stranger would be, and how pleasant it would be to keep her company, and to chatter all this nonsense to her; and might she call her du? because then they could talk twice as comfortably. The permission, readily given and sealed with a kiss, enchanted the excitable little girl.
“You must never go away again,” she cried, “or, at any rate, it must be only to return in the autumn! He will never marry me; I have got nothing, and he has nothing, in spite of his great estates, and if we cannot manage to get the railroad and the harbour made here, my papa says we shall all be bankrupts. And your papa and
