LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 986, 23 August 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A VERY STRANGE NIGHT.

{From London Society.)

{ Continued.) ‘ I know that my Redeemer iiveth !' and the silent mourner bent her head lower over the coffin in which lay, perchance, he, whom she loved more thau all the world, for whom she would have given her own soul. Then came a piece from the ‘ Stabat M ater’ ‘ Q.uando corpus ;’ what more appropiate to the occasion ?

‘ What can be that mysterious quality in music ?’ thought Gordon, as he listened with a feeling of awe. ‘ What is that mysterious power which can so forcibly impress upon the listener the weight, the full sense, of his unworthiness V What can be that subtle essence that is as much the soul of music as scent is that of the flower ? ’

Suddenly the organ ceased playing, and a universal rustle of dresses was audible throughout the ancient building, and the congregation at the same time uttered something like a sigh of relief, as though of a weight lifted from their spirit. But all was still again when the everpopular Overture to William Tell came pealing down the aisle, providing for the Englishman a different train of sentiment upon which to philosophise. Then, after another interval of oppressive silence, came the glorious ‘ Hallelujah Chorus.’ How it thundered through the aisles and up amongst the rafters ! The gurgoyles ou the lofty roof, as they trembled in the vibration, must surely have thought that the day had come at last. Looking sharply round under that peculiar influence—that sixth sense—with which all are familiar, and which none can explain, Gordon beheld in the light of the glimmering lamp a pair of eyes that were keenly observing him or his companion, he could not be certain which Striving vainly to recall to his recollection where, if ever, he had before encountered the possessor of those overhanging brows, Gordon drew his companion’s attention to him. Then the gaze was immediately withdrawn. * What, that man ? ’ said Emile, indicating him with a nod of his head. ‘ Why, do you not recollect him ? He was standing in the passage of the hotel, behind Gretchen, or whatever the sweet creature calls herself, and he did not appear to relish the way I looked at her. Surely you remember him ? ’

‘ No, I do not indeed. I saw only the landlord and your friend Miss Pretty. But see, the people are all leaving—suppose we follow their example ? lam as hungry as a wolf. ’

‘ bo am I,’ returned the other very heartily, brightening up at the prospect of dinner'. ‘ Let us hope Gretchen waits upon us. She is perfectly ravissante, and I mean to be excellent friends with her —see if I am not. ’

Leaning in the doorway of the hotel, just as they had left him, stood the beery host, the glow of bis pipe shining eheerily through the cloud of smoke which indicated his august presence. •Well,’ said he, removing the long pipe from his mouth, ‘ and how have the gentle men liked our organ ? Has it provided them with an appetite ? They will find a right excellent dinner prepared for them, if they will give themselves the trouble to mount the stairs. ’

Sure enough, on a large table in an ancient room, was spread a snow-white cloth, the sight of which reminded the travellers that they had eaten nothing for many hours, and completely obliterated, so far as Gordon was concerned, the impression which his proximity to the coffin and his philosophical, not to say melancholy, rellections had created.

A curious old room it was, and quite in accord with the external appearance of the building. The ceiling, now black with age, was of wood, richly carved in the Renaissance style. In the centre could barely be discerned a lion, in the escutcheon of the original proprietor of the mansion, though the red and gold with which it had once been embellished had almost disappeared under the hand of time. A large porcelain stove in the corner and a tiled floor were in excellent harmony with the ceiling and bandy-legged chairs, which latter, unlike those of a more recent date, were designed with a view to comfort as well as appearance.

Not, indeed, that Monsieur Thouret could have observed much of this, as all his attention was engaged in following the movements of the dimpled maid whose charms had so impressed him ; while, if the truth must be said, she, on her part, seemed fully alive to the admiration of which she was the object. * I say, Gretchen,’ said he, with twinkling eyes, ‘ wdiat are you going to give us to drink ? What do you say,’ said he, turning to Gordon, ‘to Niersteiuer ?’

Aud the proposition meeting with approval, Gretchen proceeded to obtain it, protesting, however, with a demure glance at Emile, that her name was not Gretchen. ‘Well, then,’ said Emile, laughing, ‘it will certainly be Lieschen—is it not, now?’ And Lieschen it really was. ‘ Now is it not a curious thing,’ observed he to Gordon, ‘is it not a curious thing that there is hardly ever a fine—what you would call “strapping”—girl in Germany who is not called either Gretchen—little Margaret —or else Elisa ? Without doubt, Lieschen is all that is delightful; but who but a German would ever have dreamed oi: calling her little Elisa ?’

Thus chatting, they fell to, whilst the pretty Lieschen tried to look as if she knew very well that she was the topic of their conversation.

Suddenly the Frenchman laid down his knife and fork with an exclamation. ‘ 1 have a bright idea,’ said he, ‘Kartoffelsalat ! To think that we should have forgotten it! Of course you like it—potato salad ? As to me, I adore it !’

So Lieschen was despatched in all haste for the potato salad, soon returning with a huge china bowl of it, greatly to the satisfaction of the delighted Emile.

‘ Tres bon pour l’estomac,’said he, emptying half the contents of the bowl upon his already well-filled plate. ‘Try it.—Aud, Liebohen --Lieschen, 1 mean—favor us with some more of that Niersteiuer, will you?’ By this time the lively Gaul, cither on account of the wine, or his potato salad in which his soul delighted, or his mercurial temperament, had begun to regard Lieschen with something closely akin to the eje of affection; which, under the circumstances, was undoubtedly reprehensible. On her return, therefore, with the- fresh supply of wine, he seized her playfully hy the, perhaps, not altogether unwilling arm, and,

with amorous glance, insisted that she should drink from his glass. To this, however, with great show' of bashfulness, she made objection, the result being a scuflle between them. But all at once a tall figure stood in the doorway, regarding the scene with the gaze of such mingled W'rath and malevolence that the girl’s assailant instinctively released his grasp upon her arm ; and she, turning pale at the steady gaze which w r as fixed upon her, instantly busied herself with the dishes placed on a distant sideboard. Then the figure at the door slowly moved away, casting a look upon the Frenchman, who seemed particularly uncomfortable. * Who on earth was that ?’ cried they simultaneously, the one in German, the ether in French ; for the girl, like most of the Frieburgians, understood both languages. ‘Who was it, Lieschen? What does he mean by his infernal impudence ? We caught him staring at us in the cathedral, too 1’

But the pretty Lieschen refused to afford any information as to the mysterious per sonage, only saying, uneasily that ‘ he was a bad fe low, and she feared him,’ which latter, indeed, was pretty evident.

So, as she was not to be induced to renew her flirtation with the disappointed Emi'e, the latter reluctantly assented to Gordon’s suggestion that, as it was getting late, th. y had better retire to bed. Chapter 111. ‘ I hope you will sleep comfortably, gentlemen,’ said Lieschen, preceding them np the wide oak staircase. ‘ The rooms are very quiet. One of them is rather larger than the other, but I think you will find them both very agreeable.’ On arriving at the end of a long and gloomy passage the travellers found themselves before two doors, one of which Lieschen unlocked, saying, as she did so, that the smaller room was not a very light one, and there was no window to it. But she had no doubt the gentlemen would rather be near one another than in different parts of the house. And then, with a cheerful ‘ Gute Nacht,’ she closed the door and left them. ‘ I say,’ said Gordon, ‘what a swell room they have put you in ! That comes of travelling with a portmanteau. See, that there may be no mistake, they have put it on your bed. Where does your window look out ? ’ he continued, pulling aside the heavy curtains. ‘ Tombstones ! How very pleasant ! I suppose it must be a mason’s back-yard. Now come and inspect my room.’ This proved to be a part of the larger one, from which it had been separated by a thin wooden wall, wherein a door had been cut. ‘Not very cheerful,’said he rather ruefully, as he looked in vain for anything resembling a window, ‘ Must be nearly pitch dark in the daytime, when your door is shut. There is positively no light except what may find its way through that pane of glass over the door into the passage.’ (To hr continued.)

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