Читать книгу Frederick the Great and His Family - L. Muhlbach - Страница 19

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The stage stood before the tavern at Grave, and awaited its passengers. The departure of the stage was an important occurrence to the inhabitants of the little town—an occurrence that disturbed the monotony of their lives for a few moments, and showed them at least now and then a new face, that gave them something to think of, and made them dream of the far-off city where the envied travellers were going.

Today all Grave was in commotion and excitement. The strangers had arrived at the post-house, and after partaking of an excellent dinner, engaged three seats in the stage. The good people of Grave hoped to see three strange faces looking out of the stage window; many were the surmises of their destiny and their possible motives for travelling. They commenced these investigations while the strangers were still with them.

A man had seen them enter the city, dusty and exhausted, and he declared that the glance which the two men in brown coats had cast at his young wife, who had come to the window at his call, was very bold—yes, even suspicious, and it seemed very remarkable to him that such plain, ordinary looking wanderers should have a servant, for, doubtless, the man walking behind them, carrying the very small carpet-bag, was their servant; but, truly, he appeared to be a proud person, and had the haughty bearing of a general or a field-marshal, he would not even return the friendly greetings of the people he passed. His masters could not be distinguished or rich, for both of them carried a case under their arms. What could be in those long cases, what secret was hidden there? Perhaps they held pistols, and the good people of Grave would have to deal with robbers or murderers. The appearance of the strangers was wild and bold enough to allow of the worst suspicions.

The whole town, as before mentioned, was in commotion, and all were anxious to see the three strangers, about whom there was certainly something mysterious. They had the manners and bearing of noblemen, but were dressed like common men.

A crowd of idlers had assembled before the post-house, whispering and staring at the windows of the guests’ rooms. At last their curiosity was about to be gratified, at last the servant appeared with the little carpet-bag, and placed it in the stage, and returned for the two cases, whose contents they would so greedily have known. The postilion blew his horn, the moment of departure had arrived.

A murmur was heard through the crowd, the strangers appeared, they approached the stage, and with such haughty and commanding glances that the men nearest them stepped timidly back.

The postilion sounded his horn again, the strangers were entering the stage. At the door stood the postmaster, and behind him his wife, the commanding postmistress.

“Niclas,” she whispered, “I must and will know who these strangers are. Go and demand their passports.”

The obedient Niclas stepped out and cried in a thundering voice to the postilion, who was just about to start, to wait. Stepping to the stage, he opened the door.

“Your passports, gentlemen,” he said, roughly. “You forgot to show me your passports.”

The curious observers breathed more freely, and nodded encouragingly to the daring postmaster.

“You rejoice,” murmured his wife, who was still standing in the door, from whence she saw all that passed, and seemed to divine the thoughts of her gaping friends—“you rejoice, but you shall know nothing. I shall not satisfy your curiosity.”

Mr. Niclas still stood at the door of the stage. His demand had not been attended to; he repeated it for the third time.

“Is it customary here to demand passports of travellers?” asked a commanding voice from the stage.

Niclas, and taking the two mysterious cases from the stage, he placed them before the strangers.

“Let us go into the house,” whispered the king to his friends. “We must make bonne mine a mauvais jeu,” and he approached the door of the house—there stood the wife of the postmaster, with sparkling eyes and a malicious grin.

“The postilion is going, and you will lose your money,” she said, “they never return money when once they have it.”

“Ah! I thought that was only a habit of the church,” said the king, laughing. “Nevertheless, the postmaster can keep what he has. Will you have the kindness to show me a room, where I can open my bag at leisure, and send some coffee and good wine to us?”

There was something so commanding in the king’s voice, so imposing in his whole appearance, that even the all-conquering Madame Niclas felt awed, and she silently stepped forward and showed him her best room. The servant followed with the two cases and the bag, and laid them upon the table, then placed himself at the door.

“Now, madame, leave us,” ordered the king, “and do as I told you.”

Madame Niclas left, and the gentlemen were once more alone.

“Now, what shall we do?” said the king, smilingly. “I believe there is danger of our wonderful trip falling through.”

“It is only necessary for your majesty to make yourself known to the postmaster,” said Colonel Balby.

“And if he will not believe me, this fripon who declares that no one could tell by my appearance whether I was a rascal or not, this dull-eyed simpleton, who will not see the royal mark upon my brow, which my courtiers see so plainly written there? No, no, my friend, that is not the way. We have undertaken to travel as ordinary men—we must now see how common men get through the world. It is necessary to show the police that we are at least honest men. Happily, I believe I have the means to do so at hand. Open our ominous bag, friend Balby, I think you will discover my portfolio, and in it a few blank passes, and my state seal.”

Colonel Balby did as the king ordered, and drew from the bag the portfolio, with its precious contents.

The king bade Balby sit down and fill up the blanks at his dictation.

The pass was drawn up for the two brothers, Frederick and Henry Zoller, accompanied by their servant, with the intention of travelling through Holland.

The king placed his signature under this important document.

“Now, it is only necessary to put the state seal under it, and we shall be free; but how will we get a light?”

“I cannot tell who is a rascal, you may be one for aught I know.”

Balby uttered an angry exclamation and stepped nearer to the daring postmaster, while his servant shook his fist threateningly at Niclas.

The king dispelled their anger with a single glance.

“Sir,” he said to Niclas, “God made my face, and it is not my fault if it does not please you, but concerning our passports, they are lying well preserved in my carpet-bag. I should think that would suffice you.”

“No, that does not suffice me,” screamed Niclas. “Show me your passports if I am to believe that you are not vagabonds.”

“You dare to call us vagabonds?” cried the king, whose patience now also appeared exhausted, and whose clear brow was slightly clouded.

“The police consider everyone criminal until he has proved he is not so,” said Niclas, emphatically.

The king’s anger was already subdued.

“In the eyes of the police, criminality is then the normal condition of mankind,” he said, smilingly.

“Sir, you have no right to question the police so pointedly,” said Niclas, sternly. “You are here to be questioned, and not to question.”

The king laughingly arrested the uplifted arm of his companion.

“Mon Dieu,” he murmured, “do you not see that this is amusing me highly? Ask, sir, I am ready to answer.”

“Have you a pass?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then give it to me to vise.”

“To do so, I should have to open my bag, and that would be very inconvenient, but, if the law absolutely demands it, I will do it.”

“The law demands it.”

The king motioned to his servant, and ordered him to carry the bag into the house.

“Why this delay—why this unnecessary loss of time?” asked Niclas. “The postilion can wait no longer. If he arrives too late at the next station, he will be fined.”

“I will not wait another minute,” cried the postilion, determinately. “get in, or I shall start without you.”

“Show me your passports, and then get in,” cried Niclas.

The strangers appeared confused and undecided. Niclas looked triumphantly at his immense crowd of listeners, who were gazing at him with amazement, awaiting in breathless stillness the unravelling of this scene.

“Get in, or I shall start,” repeated the postilion.

“Give me your passports, or I will not let you go!” screamed “We can demand them if we wish to do so.”

“And why do you wish it now?” said the same voice.

“I wish it simply because I wish it,” was the reply.

A stern face now appeared at the door, looking angrily at the postmaster.

“Think what you say, sir, and be respectful.”

“Silence!” interrupted the one who had first spoken. “Do not let us make an unnecessary disturbance, mon ami. Why do you wish to see our passports, sir?”

“Why?” asked Niclas, who was proud to play so distinguished a part before his comrades—“you wish to know why I desire to see your passports? Well, then, because you appear to me to be suspicious characters.”

A gay laugh was heard from the stage. “Why do you suspect us?”

“Because I never trust people travelling without baggage,” was the laconic reply.

“Bravo! well answered,” cried the crowd, and even Madame Niclas was surprised to see her husband show such daring courage.

“We need no baggage. We are travelling musicians, going to Amsterdam.”

“Travelling musicians All the more reason for mistrusting you; no good was ever heard of wandering musicians.”

“You are becoming impertinent, sir,” and Balby, the tallest and youngest of the two friends, sprang from the stage, while the servant swung himself from the box, where he was sitting with the postilion, and with an enraged countenance placed himself beside his master.

“If you dare to speak another insulting word, you are lost,” cried Balby.

A hand was laid on his shoulder, and a voice murmured in his ear:

“Do not compromise us.”

The king now also left the stage, and tried to subdue the anger of his companion.

“Pardon, sir, the violence of my friend,” said the king, with an ironical smile, as he bowed to the postmaster. “We are not accustomed to being questioned and suspected in this manner, and I can assure you that, although we are travelling musicians, as it pleased you to say, we are honest people, and have played before kings and queens.”

“If you are honest, show me your passports; no honest man travels without one!”

“It appears to me that no rascal should travel without one,” said the king. “I will obtain one immediately,” said Balby, hastening to the door.

The king held him back. “My brother, you are very innocent and thoughtless. You forget entirely that we are suspected criminals. Should we demand a light, and immediately appear with our passes, do you not believe that this dragon of a postmaster would immediately think that we had written them ourselves, and put a forged seal under them?”

“How, then, are we to get a light?” said Balby, confused.

The king thought a moment, then laughed gayly.

“I have found a way,” he said; “go down into the dining-room, where I noticed an eternal lamp burning, not to do honor to the Mother of God, but to smokers; light your cigar and bring it here. I will light the sealing-wax by it, and we will have the advantage of drowning the smell of the wax with the smoke.”

Balby flew away, and soon returned with the burning cigar; the king lit the sealing-wax, and put the seal under the passport.

“This will proclaim us free from all crime. Now, brother Henry, call the worthy postmaster.”

When Niclas received the passport from the king’s hand his countenance cleared, and he made the two gentlemen a graceful bow, and begged them to excuse the severity that his duty made necessary.

“We have now entirely convinced you that we are honest people,” said the king, smiling, “and you will forgive us that we have so little baggage.”

“Well, I understand,” said Mr. Niclas, confusedly, “musicians are seldom rich, but live from hand to mouth, and must thank God if their clothes are good and clean. Yours are entirely new, and you need no baggage.”

The king laughed merrily. “Can we now go?” he asked.

“Yes; but how, sir? You doubtlessly heard that the postilion left as soon as you entered the house.”

“Consequently we are without a conveyance; we have paid for our places for nothing, and must remain in this miserable place,” said the king, impatiently.

Niclas reddened with anger. “Sir, what right have you to call the town of Grave a miserable place? Believe me, it would be very difficult for you to become a citizen of this miserable place, for you must prove that you have means enough to live in a decent manner, and it appears to me—”

“That we do not possess them,” said the king; “vraiment, you are right, our means are very insufficient, and as the inhabitants of Grave will not grant us the rights of citizens, it is better for us to leave immediately. Have, therefore, the goodness to furnish us with the means of doing so.”

“There are two ways, an expensive and a cheap one,” said Niclas, proudly: “extra post, or the drag-boat. The first is for respectable people, the second for those who have nothing, and are nothing.”

“Then the last is for us,” said the king, laughing. “Is it not so, brother Henry?—it is best for us to go in the drag-boat.”

“That would be best, brother Frederick.”

“Have the kindness to call our servant to take the bag, and you, Mr. Niclas, please give us a guide to show us to the canal.”

The king took his box and approached the door.

“And my coffee, and the wine,” asked Mrs. Niclas, just entering with the drinks.

“We have no time to make use of them, madame,” said the king, as he passed her, to leave the room.

But Madame Niclas held him back.

“No time to make use of them,” she cried; “but I had to take time to make the coffee, and bring the wine from the cellar.”

“Mais, mon Dieu, madame,” said the impatient king.

“Mais, mon Dieu, monsieur, vous croyez que je travaillerai pour le roi de Prusse, c’est-a-dire sans paiement.”

The king broke out into a hearty laugh, and Balby had to join him, but much against his will.

“Brother Henry,” said the king, laughing, “that is a curious way of speaking; ‘travailler pour le roi de Prusse,’ means here to work for nothing. I beg you to convince this good woman that she has not worked for the King of Prussia, and pay her well. Madame, I have the honor to bid you farewell, and be assured it will always cheer me to think of you, and to recall your charming speech.”

The king laughingly took his friend’s arm, and nodded kindly to Madame Niclas as he went down the steps.

“I tell you what,” said Madame Niclas, as she stood at the door with her husband, watching the departing strangers, who, in company with the guide and their servant, were walking down the street that led to the canal—“I tell you I do not trust those strangers, the little one in particular; he had a very suspicious look.”

“But his passport was all right.”

“But, nevertheless, all is not right with them. These strangers are disguised princes or robbers, I am fully convinced.”