THE MOUTH OF HELL, page 9
When a mile from the town, the students proceeded more cautiously. They left the main road and pursued their way across country. Occasionally they looked back to satisfy themselves that they were not followed. On meeting any townsmen, Dietrich and Lewald, the two seconds, accosted them, and with a threatening gesture, rendered all the more forcible by the heavy sticks they carried, advised them to go in some other direction. The citizens obeyed with alacrity.
Samuel’s orders had been carried out to the letter. At stated intervals, students had been placed on the look-out to avoid surprise. Dietrich exchanged a few words with them in a low tone, and the scouts answered, “Pass on!”
At last, after thirty-five minutes’ walk, they arrived at a little inn, hidden among the trees, fresh, smiling, with green shutters, rose-coloured walls, the roof buried under a choice profusion of creepers.
The four students walked through a garden in which the rays of the sun played among the flowers, and entered into the dancing and duelling hall, which measured sixty feet long by thirty wide, and admitted of waltzing or fighting, loving or dying at ease.
Ritter had already arrived, and with him the students from the blue room; Dormagen came in shortly after with his second.
Four “Mossy Heads “were busily employed chalking out the space limits for each duel, in order that the one might not interfere with the other.
Meanwhile four “Golden Foxes” adjusted hilts to blades, sharp and triangular like bayonets, and from this resulted four Jena rapiers, two and a half feet long.
The swords of the Studiosi “are made in two sections, which come apart, to insure their being more easily concealed from the police; the “studiosi “carry the blade under their cloak and the hilt in their pocket, and thus defy detection.
“Are we ready to begin?” said Ritter.
“Presently,” replied a student, who was preparing a box of instruments in one corner of the room.
This was the surgeon, a student in medicine who had come for the purpose of stitching up the wounds and gashes which the swords were about to inflict.
The surgeon went to a door at the end of the room and cried out: “Be quick.”
A servant entered carrying two towels, a basin and a can of water, which he placed beside the box of instruments.
Dormagen looked on impatiently while all these preparations were being made, addressing a few curt, abrupt words to the students who crowded round him; Franz went from Otto to the surgeon; Julius was calm and grave.
So far as Samuel was concerned, his whole attention seemed concentrated on repulsing the assault of a little rose, which aided by a joyous breeze, seemed bent on effecting an entrance by the window.
“Now, everything is ready,” said the surgeon.
Julius approached Samuel, and Ritter went up to Dormagen.
The four seconds took down from a rack nailed against the wall, four felt masks, four gauntlets, and four padded belts, and were about to fasten them on the combatants.
Samuel pushed Dietrich aside:
“Take this rubbish away!”
“But it is the rule,” Dietrich objected, and he pointed to the “Code,” an old greasy book, bound in black with red clasps, which lay open on the table.
“The ‘Code,’ “rejoined Samuel, “regulates quarrels between students, this is a quarrel between men. It will not end only in pin-pricks; and this is not the time to wear protectors, but rather to strip off one’s clothes.”
And, suiting the action to the word, he divested himself of his coat and threw it to the other end of the hall.
Then he took up the first sword that came to hand, and pressing its point to the floor, tested the blade, then he drew himself up and waited.
Otto followed his example, likewise Julius and Dormagen, and all four stood ready for the attack, chest and arms bare, sword in hand.
Samuel’s speech and action gravely impressed the onlookers. There was a general presentiment that the affair might have a tragic ending.
Dietrich clapped his hands three times, then uttered the emphatic and orthodox word:
“Engage!”
The four swords met simultaneously.
In the hall, all eyes were fixed, every breath suspended.
The first pass was, on both sides, a trial one. The adversaries were taking their measure.
Julius and Ritter appeared evenly matched. The storm of anger, that jealousy had aroused in Franz at the moment of the challenge, had given place to cold concentrated rage. As to Julius, it must be acknowledged, that he was at his best. Calm, firm, brave without bravado, his youthful grace was enhanced by the manly pride born of peril and courage. On both sides, however, such agility and presence of mind was manifested, that the encounter might have suggested rather a display than a duel, had not an occasional rapid disengagement, quick thrust, more quickly parried, which appeared to graze the chests of the opponents, reminded the spectators that the danger was real, and that life and death hung at the end of these pointed blades, flashing with such swift grace.
Contrary to the usual custom of students’ duels, which is a rather more than ordinarily dangerous fencing match, neither Julius nor Franz spoke a word.
As regards the other contest, it was evident from the first that it was of a far more serious and terrible nature.
Samuel Gelb had, on his side, the advantage of his superior height and cool imperturbability.
But Otto Dormagen was supple, impetuous, daring, and there was no avoiding the boldness and unexpectedness of his movements.
It was an unusual and thrilling spectacle to witness the coolness and ease of Samuel, in face of the agility and impetuosity of his adversary. The encounter of these two swords was assuredly exciting! the one quick, swift, cunning, blinding like the zig-zag of lightning, the other inflexible, imperturbable, sure, straight, like the needle of the lightning rod.
Samuel could not refrain from speaking and laughing. He met Otto’s furious attacks with disdainful assurance, never missing an opportunity of sneering, and accompanying each thrust by some sarcastic remark.
He corrected Dormagen, warned him, gave him advice, as a fencing master would to a pupil.
“Badly parried. I had exposed my self purposely! Let us begin again. In tierce this time. That’s better now! Young man, you will succeed. Look out, sir! I am going to lunge direct.”
And he suited the action to the word; Dormagen had only time to step back quickly. Another second, Samuel’s sword would have pierced his breast.
This scornful recklessness, however, began to exasperate Dormagen. In proportion as his annoyance increased, and his wounded self-esteem betrayed itself in the more jerky activity of his hand, Samuel redoubled in superb scorn, and added the stabs of his tongue to the stabs of his sword.
His face shone with savage delight. One felt that danger was his element, catastrophe his delight, death his life. He, too, in his way, was magnificent, and his powerful head, with its strong angular features, was incontestably splendid. His nostrils were dilated, the curve of his lips, his substitute for a smile, was more coldly insolent than ever, his wild changing eyes glittered like a tiger’s. An indescribable expression of fierce pride, animating his whole being, held the spectators spell-bound between horror and admiration. There were moments when he swept the entire hall with his haughty glance, eloquent of superb indifference to life and death.
It was impossible, seeing him thus, calm, prompt, steadfast, and pouring out words, like a fencing-master under his plastron, not to conceive the idea that he was invulnerable.
Dormagen, who began to feel uncomfortable under the pressure of this glacial raillery, wished to put an end to it, and risked the lunge of which Samuel had made mention to Julius.
It was a feint of extraordinary boldness and impetuosity. He lunged after a free thrust, and, without recovering, lunged a second time, having missed his opponent. The danger lay in the vigour, the spring, and the rapidity which he put into this second onslaught.
There was a cry. Everybody thought Samuel dead.
But Samuel, as if he had divined Dormagen’s thought at the moment of its conception, had swerved aside so quickly that the stroke, deadly though it was, only grazed the full folds of his shirt.
Samuel sneered and Dormagen grew pale.
Just at that moment, Julius was less fortunate. He was a little too late with his guard “in prime “to parry a thrust, and was slightly wounded in the left arm.
The seconds interposed and these two strokes brought the first engagement to a finish.
CHAPTER XVII.
AN ANGEL’S PRAYER A FAIRY’S TALISMAN.
AT this stage of the proceedings, an attempt was made to bring the affair between Julius and Franz to an end. The seconds were of opinion that sufficient satisfaction had been given for so small a matter as a passing word to a “grisette.” But Franz, apart from his jealousy, had received his orders from the Tugendbund as to Julius.
“Come now, gentlemen,” said he, “when one of us two has fallen at the feet of the other, we shall stop, not before. If we come here expecting only a scratch, swords are needless, a needle would suffice.”
And, turning to Ritter: “Are you rested?” said he. So far as Otto and Samuel were concerned, no one for a moment entertained the idea of inducing them to stop at this point, so plainly evident in the attitude of the one was the furious rage of a missed stroke, and in the attitude of the other the unfaltering resolve of an iron will.
This interlude in no wise interrupted Samuel’s decisive remarks:
“Remember this,” said he to Dietrich, “there is no advantage possible without its disadvantage. Thus, Otto’s thrust is a distinct advantage until such time as he misses it. At the present moment you see my worthy adversary thoroughly demoralised.”
“You think so?” said Dormagen exasperated.
“Oh! if I have any advice to give you, my dear Otto,” rejoined Samuel, “don’t talk. You are already out of breath through the very praiseworthy efforts you have made to insert into my skin half a foot of pointed steel, and, if you talk, you will but further increase the difficulty you experience in breathing.”
Dormagen snatched up his sword.
“Come on!” said he, with such authoritative anger, that the seconds instinctively gave the signal.
At that moment Julius was thinking: “Eleven o’clock! She must be at church; perhaps she is praying for me. Without doubt, it is that which saved my life a few moments ago.”
The signal, whilst rousing him from his sweet reverie, found him, as will be imagined, only more ready and more determined.
The duel recommenced.
This time, Dormagen no longer heard Samuel’s jeers. In a fury of rage, he attacked almost without defending himself, more eager to wound than to cover. But, as invariably happens, the tumult of his mind caused his hand to tremble and he struck with more fury than accuracy.
Samuel perceived the excitement under which his adversary laboured, and did all he could to increase it. This time, he entirely changed his tactics. Instead of being quiet and imperturbable, as in the first pass, he sprang, lunged, changed his sword from one hand to the other, teasing, annoying, irritating Dormagen, blinding him with the lightning of his feints, dazing him with the unceasing din of his words.
Dormagen began to lose his head.
Suddenly Samuel called out:
“Eh! gentlemen! Philip of Macedon, of which eye was he blind?”
He went on, by his amazing agility persistently tiring Otto Dormagen, who grew wilder and wilder, less and less accurate in his fence.
“I think it was of the left eye. Philip, the father of the great Alexander, gentlemen, was laying siege to — I have forgotten the name of the town. An archer of the town took an arrow, upon which he wrote: ‘To the left eye of Philip!’ and the arrow arrived at its address. But why the devil! the left eye rather than the right.”
Otto replied with a direct lunge.
But he had miscalculated; his blade glided over Samuel’s, the point of whose sword he felt at his breast.
“You are exposing yourself,” said Samuel.
Otto ground his teeth. It was evident that Samuel spared him, and played with his life like a cat with a mouse.
The encounter was no less animated for the other couple. But it was more equal.
However, on a feint of disengagement, Ritter parried by a straight stroke, so prompt, so lightning-like, that Julius had not time to defend.
The steel touched him on the right side.
But, wonderful chance! instead of penetrating, the steel glanced aside on a silky yielding substance whose movable course it followed, barely grazing the skin on his breast.
On this Julius had but to thrust out his sword; it buried itself three inches deep in Ritter’s side, who sank to the ground.
What had saved Julius’ life was the little silk sachet suspended round his neck and containing the faded wild rose.
“Ah! you have finished?” said Samuel.
At these words, the seconds understood that Samuel likewise wished to bring his encounter to a close. Dormagen tried to forestall him, and attempted a second time the stroke in which he had already failed.
“Again!” said Samuel. “You repeat yourself!”
Already he had avoided the steel by the same dexterous agility; but, this time, by a singular and unforeseen stroke, forcibly raising Otto’s sword, he simultaneously turned back his own, dug the point of it into Dormagen’s brow, then by a subtle movement quickly withdrew it.
But the point had penetrated the left eye an inch and a half deep.
Dormagen uttered a terrible cry.
“I purposely chose the left eye,” said Samuel. “It will be less inconvenient for shooting.”
The witnesses crowded round the wounded men.
Franz’s right lung had been pierced. But the surgeon was hopeful of saving his life.
The surgeon came up to Dormagen.
Samuel did not wait for him to speak.
“His life is not endangered,” said he. “I simply wished to deprive him of one eye. You will notice that instead of penetrating the skull, and injuring the brain, as it lay in my power to do, I withdrew the steel as delicately as a surgical instrument. It is in fact an operation.”
And turning to the surgeon:
“He has not breakfasted. Bleed him quickly, if you wish to avoid a rush of blood to the brain. With care, he will be out again in a fortnight from now.”
Just as the surgeon, lancet in hand, was preparing to act on Samuel’s advice, a ‘Finch’ came hurriedly into the hall.
“Well! what is the matter?” said Samuel.
“The police!” cried the ‘Finch.’
“I thought as much,” Samuel said tranquilly. “They could do no less than honour me with some slight attention; are they far off?”
“Fifty yards away.”
“Then we have time. Do not be uneasy, gentlemen, this is my business.”
He tore up his handkerchief and bound it tightly round Julius’ left arm.
“And now, quick, put on your coat.”
He likewise resumed his own.
The police were coming up the garden.
A ‘fox ‘addressed Samuel:
“Are we not going to resist the ‘stiff-collars? ‘“
“A free-fight? “Samuel answered. “That would be exciting. We would thrash them in a trice, and you tempt me, demon. But it is inadvisable to be too lavish of sanguinary amusements, it would end in our becoming ‘blasés.’ There is another and more simple way.”
Knocking was heard at the door.
“In the name of the law!” said a voice.
“Open to these gentlemen,” said Samuel.
The door was opened and a squad of police-officers entered the hall.
“There has been fighting here?” said the man in charge of the detachment.
“That is possible,” said Samuel.
“The combatants must follow us to prison,” resumed the chief.
“That is scarcely as possible,” replied Samuel.
“Why so? Where are they?”
Samuel pointed to Otto and Franz:
“Here they are, both in the doctor’s hands. They have mutually wounded each other. You can see for yourself that at present they stand more in need of the surgeon than of the jailor.”
One glance sufficed to convince the chief of the serious nature of the wounds, — a look of disappointment passed over his face, and, without uttering a word, he withdrew with his men.
As soon as the “stiff-collars “had disappeared, Julius went into a small room adjoining, sat down at the table, reopened the unfinished letter to his father, added a few lines, and sealed it.
After which, he wrote on another sheet of paper:
“MY DEAR SIR, “The prayer of an angel and the talisman of a fairy, have already twice saved my life. We are alive, and all danger is passed.
“Until Sunday, when I hope to express my thanks in person.
“JULIUS.”
He then handed the two letters to Dietrich, who was returning at once to Heidelberg, and would post them before the next mail went out.
When Julius returned to the duelling hall, the two wounded men were being removed on stretchers, and Samuel was saying:
“And now we must kill time until dinner. That is the wearisome result of our morning’s excitement. What shall we do till mid-day?”
“What shall we do till Sunday?” thought Julius.
CHAPTER XVIII.
TWO WAYS OF LOOKING AT LOVE.
THE next Sunday, as early as seven o’clock in the morning, Samuel and Julius left Heidelberg, and, following the course of the Neckar, took the road leading to Landeck. They were on horseback, each carrying his fowling-piece fastened on to the saddle. In addition, a portmanteau was strapped behind Samuel.
Trichter, now completely recovered from his victory, walked along smoking his pipe; he seemed prouder than ever of his noble senior, whom he accompanied as far as the last houses.
He stated that on the previous evening he had been to see the two wounded men. They were both certain to recover. But Dormagen would be confined to the house three weeks, and Ritter a month.
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