SKETCHED AT MIDNIGHT.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 3085, 23 April 1892, Page 1 (Supplement)

SKETCHED AT MIDNIGHT.

Ix front of Paint Sobaldus' Clinpel at Nuromburg, at the corner of the street, there stands a small inn, narrow and high, with tumble-down gables and dusty paries, its roof surmounted by a plaster Virgin. There I passed the saddest days of my life. I had gone to Nuremburg to study the old Gorman masters, but lack of ready money drove me to paint portraits—and such portraits! Fat old gossips, wita their cats on their laps, bewigged aldermen and burghermeisters, with cocked hats, all gaudy with red and yellow. From portraits I descended to outlines, aud then silhouettes. There is nothing more disagreeable than to have an mn-keeper always dunning you, with his sneers, loud voice and impudent air, coming each day and saying: "Do you intend paying me soon, sir ? Do you know how your account is running up ? No, that does not disturb you. Monsieur eats, drinks and sleeps tranquilly. God provides for the little birds! Monsieur's account amounts to 200 florins and 10 kreutzers—it is not worth speaking of." Those who have not heard them run this gamut enn form no idea of it; love of art, imagination and enthusiasm consecrated to the beautiful, wither before the blast of such a fellosv. Oue becomes awkward, timid, loses his energy as well as the senses of personal dignity, and is subservient to every one. One night, as usual not having , a cent and threatened with prison by this worthy Master Rap, I resolved to disappoint him by cutting my throat. In this agreeable mood, seated on my cot facing the window, I gave myself up to a thousand philosophical reflections, more or less cheering. I dared not open ray razor, for fear that the convicting torce of my logic might inspire me with courage to follow it out. After having reasoned at length, I put out my caudle, deferring the sequel till next day. This abominable Rap had completely dulled me. I no longer .saw anything in art except silhouettes, aud my only desire was for inone}' to rid me of this odious presence. But that night there came a singular revolution in my mind. I rose in about an hour, lighted my lamp, aud enveloping myself in a gray wrapper, I threw off a rapid sketch of the Flemish school—something strange and bizarre, and without resemblance to my usual conceptions. Picture to yourself a gloomy court, surrounded, by high walls falling into ruin. These walls are provided with hooks at seven to eight feet from the ground, suggesting at first glmce a slaughter., house. On the left, a lath trellis extends. You observe, through it, a quarter of beef suspended from a vault by large pulleys. Great pools of blood trickle along a slab, toward a gutter full of shapeless refuse. The light comes from above, between the chimneys, who-c weathervanes stand out against the heavens, and the roofs of the neighbouring; houses cast deep shadows, like scaffolding, from story to story. At the end of this pest-hole there stands a shed ; under it is a woodpile, with a ladder, some bundles of straw, coils of rope, a hen-coop, and an old, unused rabbit crib on it.

How were these odd details presented to my imagination? I do not know; I had no l-eminiscence akin to it, and yet each stroke of the pencil was an observation, fantastic by reason of its realism. Nothing wanting But to the right, a corner of the sketch remained bare—l could not imagine what to put there. .Suddenly, something stirred—moved. Then I saw a foot—a {out turaed up, above the ground. Notwithstanding this improbable position, I followed the inspiration, without considering vny own notion. The foot was joined to a leg; on the leg, pulled tightly soon appeared a flap of a dress. Briefly, an old woman, ghastly, wasted, dishevelled, gradually came into view, thrown down on the edge of a well, and struggling, against a hand which, was squeezing her throat. It was a scene of murder, I was designing. Tho pencil fell from my band. This woman, in a most frightful position, her back bent ovor the brink of the well, her face contracted with terror, her two hands rigidly grasping the murderer's arm, filled mo with fear. I did not dare too look at her. But the man! he, the personage to whom this arm belonged, him I could not see. It was impossible for me to distinguish him. " I am worn out," I said to myself, my forehead bathed with perspiration ; " there only remains that figure to finish; I will do it tomorrow —it will be easy—" I again retired, quite aghast at my vision. Five minutes afterward I was sleeping heavily. The next day I arose early. I had just dressed myself, and was preparing to recommence the interrupted work when (wo low knocks sounded on the door. " Come in !" Tho door opened. A man already old, tall, and lean, and clothed in black, stood on the threshold. The appearance of this man, with eyes close together and a large nose like an eagle's beak, overhung by a high I forehead, had something severe in it. I He bowed to me gravely.

" M. Christian Ycnius, the artist?" said he. " I am, monsieur." He bowed again, adding : " The Baron Frederick van Spreckclil." The visit to my poor lodgings of the rich amateur, Van Spreckdal, Judge of the Criminal Tribunal, impressed me deeply. I could not refrain from easting a quick glance at the moth-eaten furniture, the mouldy hangings and dusty floor. I fi;lt humiliated to be found in such dilapidated quarters, but Van Spreckdal did not appear to notice these details and seated himself before my little table. " Master Vonius," said he, " I came—" But at the same instant his eyes rested on the unfinished sketch. He did not continue his sentence. I was seated on the edge of the cot, and the sudden attention this person bestowed upon one of my productions madft my heart beat with an indefinable dread. After about a minute Van Spreekdal raised his head. " Are you the author of this sketch?" he asked, with a fixed look. " Yes, monsieur." " What is its price ?" " I do not sell my sketches—it is the design of a painting." "Ah 1" he exclaimed, raising the paper with the end of his long yellow fingers He pulled out a glass from his waistcoat, and commenced to study the design in silence. The sun was then shining obliquely into my garret. Van Spreckdal said not a word ; his big nose became crooked like a claw, his large brow contracted, and his chin coming to a point, hollowed many little wrinkles in his long, lean cheeks. The silence was so great that I distinctly heard the buzzing of a fly caught in a spider's web. " And the size of this picture, Master Venitis !" he asked, finally, without looking at me. "Three feet by four." " The price V " Fifty ducats."

Van Spreckdat placod the design on the table and drew from his pocket a pearsliaped green silk purse ; lio slid the rin.'s. " Fifty duuat.s!" said he ; " here they are." I was dazed. The Baron had risen ; he bowed to me, and I. heard his heavy cane resound on each step to the bottom of the stairs. Then, recovered from my surprise, I suddenly remember that I had not thanked him, and I descended the five stories like liyhtning ; but arrived at the threshold,l looked carefully to the right and left; the street was desorted. It is strange, thought I, and I went up the stairs, quite out of breath.

CHAPTER, 11.

The surprising manner iu which Van iSpreckdal had just visited me threvv me into profound rapture. " Yesterday," I said to myself, looking at the pile of ducats glittering in the sun—" yesterday I intended to cut my throat for a few miserable florins, and behold ! today a fortune falls to me from the clouds. I certainly did wnll in not opening the razor, and if the temptation to do so ever comes to me again, I shall take care to put the thing oil" till next day." After these judicious reflections, I seated myself to finish the sketch ; a few strokes of the pencil and it would bu completed. But here something incomprehensible awaited me. Those few strokes of the pencil it was impossible for me to give ; I had lost the thread of my inspiration ; tho mysterious person would not release his limbs from my brain. I tried to sketch him, to imagine, to take him up again ; he no more corresponded with the cmemhle than does a figure of Raphael in one of Teniers' tap-rooms. I fell into a profuse perspiration. At this very moment Rap opened the door, without knocking, according to his praiseworthy habit; his eyes fixed themselves on my pile of ducats, and with a shrill voice he cried out: " Eh, eh ! I have caught you. Do you still say, mister painter, that you lack money 1" And his crooked fingers extended with that nervous trembling which the sight of gold always produces in the avaricious. The remembrance of all the insults this individual had inflicted on me, his covetous look, his impudent lear, quite exasperated me. With one leap I seized him, and pushing him out of the room with both hands, I slammed the door against his nose. Outside the old usurer shrilly cried out : " My money, robber— my money !" Tha lodgers caran out of their rooms and asked: " What is the mntter now ? What has happened ?" I quickly opened the door, aud giving Master Rap a terrible kick on the spine, which sent him rolling more than twenty paces, I exclaimed, beside myself, " That is what has happened." Then I closed the door with a slam, while bursts of laughter greeted Master Rap from the lodgers in the passage. I was pleased with myself, and rubbed my hands. This event had brought back my good humour. I took up my work and set about finiehinglhe sketch,whou an unusualnoise struck my ears. Some musketstocks were rested on the pavement below; I looked out of my window, and saw throe gonsdarros,their mus-

kets at rest, on duty at tho entrance. "Could that villainous Hup have broken a limb?" asked I, with fear. And, with the strange whimsicality of human nature, I, who thought tho day before of cutting my throat, trembled, even to the marrow of my bones, to think that I should be hanged if Rap were dead. Suddenly some one tried to opeu the door It was locked. Then there was a general outcry. " In the name of the law—open!" I tremblingly aroso, my limbs tottering. "Open!" repeated the same voice. The idea occurred to mo to save myself by the roof; but scarcely had I put my head out of the little window, when I drew back, seized with vertigo. I had seen, in a flash, all the windows below, with their reflecting panes, their flower pots, bird-cages, and gratinge. And lower, the balcony; lower still, the lamp ; and below this, tho sign of the Rod Lion, adorned with iron scrolls; then finally the three glistening bayonets, which only awaited my fall to run me through from the soles of my feet to my neck. On the roof of the opposite house, in the angle between it and the chimney, a large grey cat lay in wait for some sparrows chattering and fighting. One can scarcely imagine the cleai-ness, power and quickness of vision the eye of man possesses when he is stimulated by fear. At the third summons, " Open, or it will bo broken in ! " seeing that flight was impossible, I stag-< gered to the door and turned the lock.

Two hands at once seized my collar. A shorf, thick-set man, smelling of wine, said to me, " I arrest you." He wore a bottle-green frock coat, buttoned up to his chin, and a stove-pipe hat ; he had a long brown beard, and rings on every finger. His name was Passauf. He was the Chief of Police. Five bull-dog faces with flat caps and broad noses, their lower jaws protruding, watched mo from without. " What do you wish V I asked of Passauf. " Come along!" exclaimed he brusquely, while making a sign to one of his men to seize me. He dragged ma along, mom dead than alive, while the others seaivhod my room from top to bottom. I descended, supported under the arms like a consumptive in the last stages, and bearing my full weight with every step. They threw me into a cab, between two lusty fellows, who considerately permitted me to see the ends of the clubs fastened to their belts—then the cab set off. I heard the footsteps of all the gamins of the city pattering behind us.

" What have I done !" I asked of one of my guards.

He looked at the other with a peculiar smile, and said, " Hans, he asks what he has done !" That smile froze my blood. Boon we we wrc, almost enveloped in darkness ; this sti;p3 of the horses resounded in an archway. We entered tho jail. From Rap's clutches, I fell into prison, whence very few poor devils escape unpunished. Large, dark courtyards. Square windows provided with ventilators ; not a tuft of grass, not an ivy vine, not even a weather-cock, in view — these were my new quarters. It was enough to fill me with despair.

The agents of the police, accompanied by the jailer, put me, for the time being, into the detention room. The jailfer, as I now rec-ill it, was named Kasper Schliissel ; with hi-3 gray woollen cap, his pipe-stem between his teeth, and his bunch of keys at his belt,-he produced on me the effect of the owl-god of the Caribs. He had large, round, yellow eyes, such as see in the night, and owl-like nose, and a neck sunk in his shoulders. Schliisse! locked me in as unconcernedly as one locks clothing in his wardrobe while thinking of other matters. As to me, my hands crossed behind my back, my head bent, I remained more than ten minutes on the same spot. After a time I made the following reflection: Rap, in falling, had cried out, " I am killed ! " but he did not say by whom. I shall claim it, was ray neighbour, the old spectacle dealer. This idea consoled me, and 1 gave vent to a long sigh. Then I looked about my cell. It had just been whitewashed again, and its walls were entirely bare, except for galloa-s roughly drawn by my predecessor, in a corner. The light came from a bull's-eye about nine feet from the floor ; the furniture consisted of a bundle of straw and a bench. I seated myself on the straw,with my hands clasped around rvy knees in utter despondency. My mind was muddled, but supposing that Rap, before dying, had denounced nie.'l felt my limbs twitch, and with a choking sensation, as if the hempen tie already bound my throat, I got up. At the same instant I hpard Schliissel come along the corridor ; he opened the door and ordered me to follow him. Ke was always accompanied by two attendants, therefore I marched after him without delay. We crossed the long galleries, lighted here and there by soma inner windows. I saw, behind the Ivirs, a famous murrbrer, who was to be executed the next day. lie wore a straight-jacket and was singing in a

hoarse voicn. Seeing me, ho called out, " Ah, comrade, I am keeping a plncn on my right for you.' The gnoler and his attendants smiled at ench other, while a shudder crept down my back.

{To b- cmilimuil.)