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diff --git a/old/23698-h.htm.2021-01-25 b/old/23698-h.htm.2021-01-25 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e558c83 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/23698-h.htm.2021-01-25 @@ -0,0 +1,1070 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Fiddles, by F. Hopkinson Smith + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fiddles, by F. Hopkinson Smith + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Fiddles + 1909 + +Author: F. Hopkinson Smith + +Release Date: December 3, 2007 [EBook #23698] +Last Updated: December 20, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIDDLES *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + FIDDLES + </h1> + <h2> + By F. Hopkinson Smith <br /><br /> 1909 + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + This is Marny’s story, not mine. He had a hammer in his hand at the time + and a tack between his teeth. + </p> + <p> + “Going to hang Fiddles right under the old fellow’s head,” he burst out. + “That’s where he belongs. I’d have given a ten-acre if he could have drawn + a bead on that elk himself. Fiddles behind a .44 Winchester and that old + buck browsing to windward”—and he nodded at the elk’s head—“would + have made the village Mayor sit up and think. What a picturesque liar you + are, Fiddles”—here the point of the tack was pressed into the + plaster with Marny’s fat thumb—“and what a good-for-nothing, breezy, + lovable vagabond”—(Bang! Bang! Hammer at play now)—“you could + be when you tried. There!” + </p> + <p> + Marny stepped back and took in the stuffed head and wide-branched antlers + of the magnificent elk (five feet six from skull to tips) and the small, + partly faded miniature of a young man in a student cap and high-collared + coat. + </p> + <p> + I waited and let him run on. It is never wise to interrupt Marny. He will + lose the thread of his talk if you do, and though he starts off + immediately on another lead, and one, perhaps equally graphic, he has left + you suspended in mid-air so far as the tale you were getting interested in + is concerned. Who Fiddles was and why his Honor the Mayor should sit up + and think; why, too, the miniature of the young man—and he <i>was</i> + young and remarkably good-looking, as I well knew, having seen the picture + many times before on his mantel—should now be suspended below the + elk’s head, would come out in time if I loosened my ear-flaps and buttoned + up my tongue, but not if I reversed the operation. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you young fraud,” he went on—the position of both head and + miniature pleased him now—“do you remember the time I hauled you out + from under the table when the hucksters were making a door-mat of your + back; and the time I washed you off at the pump, and what you said to the + gendarme, and—No, you never remembered anything. You’d rather sprawl + out on the grass, or make eyes at Gretchen or the landlady—fifty, if + she was a day—maybe fifty-five, and yet she fell in love” (this last + was addressed directly to me; it had been reminiscent before that, fired + at the ceiling, at the hangings in his sumptuous studio, or the fire + crackling oil the hearth), “fell in love with that tramp—a boy of + twenty-two, mind you—Ah! but what a rounder he was! Such a trim, + well-knit figure; so light and nimble on his feet; such a pair of eyes in + his head, leaking tears one minute and flashing hate the next. And his + mouth! I tried, but I couldn’t paint it—nobody could—so I did + his profile; one of those curving, seductive mouths you sometimes see on a + man, that quivers when he smiles, the teeth gleaming between the moist + lips.” + </p> + <p> + I had lassoed a chair with my foot by this time, had dragged it nearer the + fire, and had settled myself in another. + </p> + <p> + “Funny name, though for a German,” I remarked carelessly—quite as if + the fellow’s patronymic had already formed part of the discussion. + </p> + <p> + “Had to call him something for short,” Marny retorted. “Feudels-Shimmer + was what they called him in Rosengarten—Wilhelm Feudels-Shimmer. I + tried all of it at first, then I bit off the Shimmer, and then the + Wilhelm, and ran him along on Feudels for a while, then it got down to + Fuddles, and at last to Fiddles, and there it stuck. Just fitted him, too. + All he wanted was a bow, and I furnished that—enough of the devil’s + resin to set him going—and out would roll jigs, lullabys, + fandangoes, serenades—anything you wanted: anything to which his + mood tempted him.” + </p> + <p> + Marny had settled into his chair now, and had stretched his fat legs + toward the blaze, his middle distance completely filling the space between + the arms. He had pushed himself over many a ledge with this same pair of + legs and on this same rotundity, his hand on his Winchester, before his + first ball crashed through the shoulder of the big elk whose glass eyes + were now looking down upon Fiddles and ourselves—and he would do it + again on another big-horn when the season opened. You wouldn’t have + thought so had you dropped in upon us and scanned his waist measure, but + then, of course, you don’t know Marny. + </p> + <p> + Again Marny’s eyes rested for a moment on the miniature; then he went on: + </p> + <p> + “We were about broke when I painted it,” he said. “There was a fair of + some sort in the village, and I got an old frame for half a mark in a + pawnshop, borrowed a coat from Fritz, the stableman, squeezed Fiddles into + it, stuck a student’s cap on his head, made it look a hundred years old—the + frame was all of that—and tried to sell it as a portrait of a + ‘Gentleman of the Last Century,’ but it wouldn’t work. Fiddles’s laugh + gave it away. ‘Looks like you,’ the old man said. ‘Yes, it’s my brother,’ + he blurted out, slapping the dealer on the back.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did you pick Fiddles up?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nowhere,” answered Marny; “he picked me up. That is, the gendarme did who + had him by the coat collar.” + </p> + <p> + “‘This fellow insists you know him,’ said the officer of the law. ‘He says + that he is honest and that this rabbit’—here he pointed to a pair of + long ears sticking out of a game bag—‘is one he shot with the Mayor + this morning. Is this true?’ + </p> + <p> + “Now if there is one thing, old man,” continued Marny, “that gets me hot + around the collar, it is to see a brother sportsman arrested for killing + anything that can fly, run, or swim. So I rose from my sketching stool and + looked him over: his eyes—not a bit of harm in ‘em; his loose + necktie thrown over one shoulder; trim waist, and so on down to the + leather leggings buttoned to his knees. If he was a poacher and subject to + the law, he certainly was the most picturesque specimen I had met in many + a day. I had, of course, never laid eyes on him before, having been but a + few days in the village, but that made the situation all the more + interesting. To rescue a friend would be commonplace, to rescue a stranger + smacked of adventure. + </p> + <p> + “I uncovered my head and bowed to the ground. ‘His Honor shoots almost + every day, your Excellency,’ I said to the gendarme. ‘I have seen him + frequently with his friends—this young man is no doubt one of them—Let—me—think—was + it this morning, or yesterday, I met the Mayor? It is at best a very small + rabbit’—here I fingered the head and ears—‘and would probably + have died of hunger anyway. However, if any claim should be made by the + farmer I will pay the damages’—this with a lordly air, and I with + only a week’s board in my pocket. + </p> + <p> + “The gendarme released his hold and stood looking at the young fellow. The + day was hot and the village lock-up two miles away. That the rabbit was + small and the Mayor an inveterate sportsman were also undeniable facts. + </p> + <p> + “‘Next time,’ he said sententiously, with a scowl, ‘do you let his Honor + carry the game home in his own bag,’ and he walked away. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you just ought to have seen Fiddles skip around when a turn in the + road shut out the cocked hat and cross-belts, and heard him pour out his + thanks. ‘His name was Wilhelm, he cried out; it had only been by chance + that he had got separated from his friends. Where did I live? Would I let + him give me the rabbit for a stew for my dinner? Was I the painter who had + come to the inn? If so he had heard of me. Could he and his friends call + upon me that night? He would never forget my kindness. What was the use of + being a gentleman if you couldn’t help another gentleman out of a scrape? + As for Herr Rabbit—the poor little Herr Rabbit-here he stroked his + fur—what more honorable end than gracing the table of the Honorable + Painter? Ah, these dogs of the law—when would they learn not to + meddle with things that did not concern them?” + </p> + <p> + “And did Fiddles come to your inn, Marny?” I asked, merely as a prod to + keep him going. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a week later, and with the same gendarme. The cobbler in the + village, who sat all day long pegging at his shoes, and who, it seemed, + was watch-goose for the whole village and knew the movements of every + inhabitant, man, woman, and child, and who for some reason hated Fiddles, + on being interviewed by the gendarme, had stated positively that the Mayor + had <i>not</i> passed his corner with his gun and four dogs on the day of + Fiddles’s arrest. This being the case, the gendarme had rearrested the + culprit, and would have taken him at once to the lock-up had not Fiddles + threatened the officer with false arrest. Would the Herr Painter accompany + the officer and himself to the house of the Mayor and settle the matter as + to whether his Honor was or was not out hunting on that particular + morning? + </p> + <p> + “All this time Fiddles was looking about the dining-room of the inn, + taking in the supper-table, the rows of mugs, especially the landlady, who + was frightened half out of her wits by Cocked Hat’s presence, and more + especially still little Gretchen—such a plump, rosy-cheeked, + blue-eyed little Dutch girl—with two Marguerite pig-tails down her + back. (Gretchen served the beer, and was the life of the place. ‘Poor + young man!’ she said to the landlady, who had by this time come to the + same conclusion—‘and he is so good-looking and with such lovely + eyes.’) + </p> + <p> + “When we got to the Mayor’s the old fellow was asleep in a big armchair, + his pipe out, his legs far apart—a keg-shaped kind of a man, with a + head flattened on his shoulders like a stove-lid, who said ‘Ach Gott’ + every five minutes, and spluttered when he talked. + </p> + <p> + “I went in first, leaving the two on the porch until I should send for + them. I didn’t know how things were going to turn out and had become a + little anxious. I had run up from Munich for a few weeks’ outdoor work and + wanted to stay out, not behind iron bars for abetting crime. + </p> + <p> + “‘Your Supreme Highness,’ I began, ‘I have heard of your great prowess as + a sportsman, and so I wanted to pay my respects. I, too, am a shootist—an + American shootist.’ Here I launched out on our big game (I had been six + months in the Rockies before I came abroad, and knew what I was talking + about). He was wide awake by this time and was listening. Dropping into + the chair which he had drawn up for me, I told him of our elk—‘As + big as horses, your Honor’; of our mountain lions—savage beasts that + could climb trees and fall upon the defenseless; of our catamounts, deer, + wolves, bears, foxes—all these we killed without molestation from + anybody; I told him how all American sportsmen were like the Nimrods of + old. How galling, then, for a true shootist to be misunderstood, decried, + denounced, and arrested for so insignificant a beastie as a rabbit! This + indignity my very dear friend, Herr Wilhelm Fuedels-Shimmer, had suffered—a + most estimable young man—careless, perhaps, in his interpretation of + the law, but who would not be—that is, what sportsman would not be? + I had in Wilhelm’s defense not only backed up his story, but I had gone so + far as to hazard the opinion to the officer of that law, that it was not + on some uncertain Tuesday or Friday or Saturday, but on that very + Wednesday, that his Supreme Highness had been wont to follow with his four + accomplished dogs the tracks of the nimble cotton-tail. Would his + Highness, therefore, be good enough to concentrate his giant brain on his + past life and fish from out his memory the exact day on which he last + hunted? While that was going on I would excuse myself long enough to bring + in the alleged criminal. + </p> + <p> + “Fiddles stepped in with the easy grace of a courtier accustomed to + meeting a Mayor every day of his life, and, after a confirmatory wink from + me, boldly asserted that he had followed behind his Honor—had really + assisted in driving the game his way. His Honor might not remember his + face, but he surely must remember that his Honorable Honor had + extraordinarily good luck that day. The rabbit in controversy—a very + small, quite a baby rabbit—was really one his Honorable and Most + Supreme Highness had himself wounded, and which he, Fiddles, had finished. + He was bringing it to his Honor when the estimable gendarme had stopped + him. + </p> + <p> + “‘And what day was that?’ interrupted the Mayor. + </p> + <p> + “‘On last Wednesday.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘The cobbler said it was Tuesday,’ insisted Cocked Hat. ‘On this point + hangs the case. Now on which day did your Honor take the field with your + dogs?’ + </p> + <p> + “There was a dead silence, during which the Mayor’s eyes rested on the + culprit. Fiddles returned the look, head up, a smile on his lips that + would have fooled the devil himself. Then his Honor turned to me and said: + ‘My memory is not always very good, but this time the cobbler’s—who + is a meddlesome person—is even more defective. Yes, I think it quite + possible I was hunting on last Wednesday. I can sympathize with the young + man as to the size of the rabbit. They are running very small this year. + My decision, therefore, is that you can let the young man go.’ + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but that was a great night at the inn. Gretchen was so happy that she + spilled the beer down the apothecary’s back and the landlady could talk of + nothing but Fiddles’s release. But the real fun began an hour later, when + shouts for the Herr Mahler, interwoven with the music of a concertina, + made me step to the door. Outside, in the road, stood four young men—all + pals of Fiddles, all bareheaded, and all carrying lanterns. They had come + to crown the American with a gold chaplet cut from gilt paper, after which + I was to be conducted to the public house where bumpers of beer were to be + drunk until the last pfennig was spent. + </p> + <p> + “On hearing this, Gretchen, the landlady, the apothecary, the hostler, and + the stable-boy—not the cobbler, you may be sure—burst forth + with cries of: ‘Hip! Hip!—Hock! Donder und Blitzen!’ or whatever + they do yell when they are mad with joy. + </p> + <p> + “Then the landlady broke out in a fresh place: ‘No public-house for you! + This is my treat! All of you come inside. Gretchen, get the mugs full—all + the mugs—Sit down! Sit down! The Herr Painter at the top of the + table, the Herr Feudels-Shimmer on the right; all the other Herrs anywhere + in between. Hock the Mahler! Hock the Hunter! Hock everybody but the + cobbler!’ Here a groan went round. ‘Hock! Hip and Blather skitzen for the + good and honorable Mayor, who always loves the people!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘And Hock! too, for the honorable and good gendarme!’ laughed Fiddles, + dropping into his chair. ‘But for him I would be in the lock-up instead of + basking in the smiles of two such lovely women as the fascinating landlady + and the bewitching Gretchen.’ + </p> + <p> + “After that Fiddles and I became inseparable. That I hadn’t a mark over my + expenses to give him in return for his services—and there was + nothing he would not do for me—made no difference. He wouldn’t take + any wages; all he wanted was to carry my traps, to sit by me while I + worked; wake me up in the morning, be the last to wish me good night. Soon + it became a settled fact that, while the landlady fed two mouths—mine + and Fiddles’s—and provided two beds—Fiddles in the garret—my + single board bill covered all the items. ‘That is the Herr Painter and his + servant,’ she would say to inquiring strangers who watched us depart for a + day’s work, Fiddles carrying my easel and traps. + </p> + <p> + “This went on for weeks—might have gone on all summer but for the + events which followed a day’s outing. We had spent the morning sketching, + and on our way home had stood opposite a wide-open gate—a great + baronial affair with a coat of arms in twisted iron, the whole flanked by + two royal lamps. + </p> + <p> + “‘Step inside, Master,’ said Fiddles. ‘It is hot, and there is a seat + under that tree; there we will get cool.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s against the rules, Fiddles, and I don’t know these people.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Then I’ll introduce you.’ + </p> + <p> + “He was half-way across the grass by this time and within reach of a + wooden bench, when an old lady stepped out from behind a tree—a real + old aristocrat in black silk and white ruffles. She had a book in her + hand, and had evidently been reading. + </p> + <p> + “You should have seen the bow Fiddles gave her, and the courtesy she + returned. + </p> + <p> + “‘Madame the Baroness,’ said the rascal, with an irradiating smile as I + approached them, ‘has been good enough to ask us to accompany her to the + house. Permit me, Madame, to present my friend, a distinguished American + painter who is visiting our country, and who was so entranced at the + beauty of your grounds and the regal splendor of your gate and château + that rather than disappoint him—’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You are both doubly welcome, gentlemen,’ ‘This way, please,’ replied the + old lady with a dip of her aristocratic head; and before I knew it we were + seated in an oak-panelled dining-room with two servants in livery tumbling + over each other in their efforts to find the particular wine best suited + to our palates. + </p> + <p> + “Fiddles sipped his Rudesheimer with the air of a connoisseur, blinking at + the ceiling now and then after the manner of expert wine tasters, and + complimenting the old lady meanwhile on the quality of the vintage. I + confined myself to a glass of sherry and a biscuit, while Fiddles, rising + from his seat, later on, stood enraptured before this portrait and that, + commenting on their coloring, ending by drawing an ancient book from the + library and going into ecstasies over the binding and type. + </p> + <p> + “On our way home to the inn from the chateau there was, so far as I could + see, no change in Fiddles’s manner. Neither was his speech or gait at all + affected by the bottle of Rudesheimer (and he managed to get away with it + all). I mention this because it is vitally important to what follows. Only + once did he seem at all excited, and that was when he passed the cobbler’s + corner. But then he was always excited when he passed the cobbler seated + at work—so much so sometimes that I have seen him shake his fist at + him. To-day he merely tightened his jaw, stopped for a moment as if + determined to step in and have it out with him (the cobbler, I afterward + found out, was to leave the village for good the next day, his trade + having fallen off, owing to his being so unpopular), and then, as if + changing his mind, followed along after me, muttering: ‘Spy—informer—beast—’ + as I had often heard him do before. + </p> + <p> + “Judge of my astonishment then, when, an hour later, Gretchen came running + into my room wringing her hands—I had caught him kissing her the + night before—and burst out with: + </p> + <p> + “‘He is under the table—the huckster’s feet on him—He is there + like a dog—Oh, it is dreadful! Mine Herr—won’t you come?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Who is under the table?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Wilhelm.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Where?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘At the public-house.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘How do you know?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Fritz, the stable-boy has just seen him.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What’s the matter with him?’ + </p> + <p> + “Gretchen hung her head, and the tears streamed down her cheeks, + </p> + <p> + “‘He is—he is—Oh, Meinherr—it is not the beer—nobody + ever gets that way with our beer—it is something he—’ + </p> + <p> + “’ Drunk!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, dead drunk, and under the table like a hog in the mud—Oh, my + poor Wilhelm! Oh, who has been so wicked to you! Oh! Oh!’ and she ran from + the room. + </p> + <p> + “I started on the run, Gretchen and the good landlady close behind. If the + Rudesheimer had upset Fiddles it had worked very slowly; maybe it had + revived an old conquered thirst, and the cheap cognac at the public-house + was the result. That he was not a man of humble birth, nor one without + home refinements, I had long since divined. Had I not suspected it before, + his manner in presenting me to the old Baroness, and his behavior in the + dining-hall, especially toward the servants, would have opened my eyes. + How then could such a man in an hour become so besotted a brute? + </p> + <p> + “And yet every word of Gretchen’s story was true. Not only was Fiddles + drunk, soggy, helplessly drunk, but from all accounts he was in that same + condition when he had staggered into the place, and, falling over a table, + had rolled himself against the wall. There he had lain, out of the way, + except when some dram-drinking driver’s heavy cowhide boots had made a + doormat of his yielding body—not an unusual occurrence, by the way, + at the roadside taverns frequented by the lower classes. + </p> + <p> + “We worked over him, calling him by name, propping him up against the + wall, only to have him sag back; and finally, at the suggestion of one of + the truckmen—he was in a half-comatose state really from the liquor + he had absorbed—we carried him out into the stable yard, and I held + his shapely head, with its beautiful hair a-frowze, while a stream of cold + water from the pump struck the back of his head and neck. + </p> + <p> + “The poor fellow stared around wildly as the chill reached his nerves and + tried to put his arm around me, then he toppled over again and lay like a + log. Nothing was left but to pick him up bodily and carry him home; that I + did with Fritz’s, the stable-boy’s, help, Gretchen carrying his cap, and + the landlady following behind with his coat, which I had stripped off when + his head went under the pump. The bystanders didn’t care—one drunken + man more or less made no difference—but both of the women were in + tears, ‘Poor Wilhelm! Somebody had drugged him; some wicked men had played + a trick, etc., etc. I thought of the Rudesheimer, and then dismissed it + from my mind. Something stronger than Rhine wine had wrought this change. + </p> + <p> + “We laid him flat out on a cot in a room on the second floor, and dragged + it near the open window so he could get the air from the garden, and left + him, I taking the precaution to lock the door to prevent his staggering + downstairs and breaking his neck. + </p> + <p> + “The next morning, before I was dressed, in fact, a row downstairs brought + me into the hall outside my door, where I stood listening over the + banister. Then came the tramp of men, and three gendarmes mounted the + steps and halted at Fiddles’s door. + </p> + <p> + “Bang! bang! went the hilt of a short-sword on the panel. ‘Open, in the + name of the law.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What for?’ I demanded. Getting drunk was not a crime in Rosengarten, + especially when the offender had been tucked away in bed. + </p> + <p> + “‘For smashing the face of a citizen—a worthy cobbler—the + night before, at the hour of eight,—just as he was closing his + shutters. The cobbler lay insensible until he had been found by the + patrol. He had, however, recognized Fuedels-Shimmer as the—’ + </p> + <p> + “‘But, gentleman, Herr Fiddles was dead drunk at eight o’clock; he hasn’t + stirred out of the room since. Here is the key,’ and I unlocked the door + and we all stepped in, Gretchen and the landlady close behind. They had + told the officers the same story downstairs, but they would not believe + it. + </p> + <p> + “At the intrusion, Fiddles rose to a sitting posture and stared + wonderingly. He was sober enough now, but his heavy sleep still showed + about his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “The production of the key, my positive statement, backed by the women, + and Fiddles’s wondering gaze, brought the gendarmes to a halt for a + moment, but his previous arrest was against him, and so the boy was + finally ordered to put on his clothes and accompany them to the lock-up. + </p> + <p> + “I got into the rest of my duds, and began waving the American flag and + ordering out gunboats. I insisted that the cobbler had lied before in + accusing Fiddles of shooting the rabbit, as was well known, and he would + lie again. Fiddles was my friend, my servant—a youth of + incorruptible character. It is true he had been intoxicated the night + before, and that I had in consequence put him to bed, but that was + entirely due to the effects of some very rare wine which he had drunk at a + luncheon given in his honor and mine by our very dear friend the Baroness + Morghenslitz, who had entertained us at her princely home. This, with the + heat of the day, had been, etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + “The mention of the distinguished woman’s name caused another halt. + Further consultation ensued, resulting in the decision that we all adjourn + to the office of the Mayor. If, after hearing our alibi—one beyond + dispute, and submitting our evidence (Exhibit A, the key, which they must + admit exactly fitted the lock of Fiddles’s bedroom door), his Honor could + still be made to believe the perjured testimony of the cobbler—Fiddles’s + enemy, as had been abundantly proved in the previous rabbit case, when the + same mendacious half-soler and heeler had informed on my friend—well + and good; but if not, then, the resources of my Government would be set in + motion for the young man’s release. + </p> + <p> + “The Mayor’s first words were: ‘Ah, you have come again, is it, Meinherr + Marny; and it is the same young man, too, Herr Fuddles. Well, well, it is + much trouble that you have.’ (I’d give it to you in German, old man, but + you wouldn’t understand it—this to me in a sort of an aside.) + </p> + <p> + “Fiddles never moved a muscle of his face. You would have thought that he + was the least interested man in the room. Only once did his features + relax, and that was when the cobbler arrived with his head swathed in + bandages. Then a grim smile flickered about the corners of his mouth, as + if fate had at last overtaken his enemy. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, the Mayor dismissed the case. Gretchen’s tearful, pleading + face, the landlady’s positive statement of helping put the dear young + gentleman to bed; the key and the use I had made of it; the reluctant + testimony of the officers, who had tried the knob and could not get in + until I had turned the lock, together with the well-known animosity of the + cobbler (and all because Fiddles had ridiculed his workmanship on a pair + of shoes the boy had left with him to be half-soled), turned the tide in + the lad’s favor and sent us all back to the inn rejoicing. + </p> + <p> + “Some weeks later Fiddles came into my room, locked the door, pulled down + the shades, looked under the bed, in the closet and behind the curtains, + and sat down in front of me. (I had to return to Munich the next day, and + this would be our last night together.) + </p> + <p> + “You have been very good to me, Master,’ he said with a choke in his + voice. ‘I love people who are good to me; I hate those who are not. I have + been that way all my life—it would have been better for me if I + hadn’t.’ Then he leaned forward and took my hand. ‘I want you to do + something more for me; I want you to promise me you’ll take me home to + America with you when you go. I’m tired dodging these people. I want to + get somewhere where I can shoot and hunt and fish, and nobody can stop me. + I snared that rabbit; been snaring them all summer; going to keep on + snaring them after you’re gone. I love to hunt them—love the fun of + it—born that way. And I’ve got something else to tell you’—here + a triumphant smile flashed over his face—‘I smashed that cobbler!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You, Fiddles!’ I laughed. ‘Why, you were dead drunk, and I put you under + the pump and—’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, I know you thought so—I intended you should. I heard every + word that you said, and what little Gretchen said—dear little + Gretchen, I had studied it all out, and to play drunk seemed the best way + to get at the brute, and it was; they’d have proved it on me if I hadn’t + fooled them that way—’ and again his eyes snapped and his face + flushed as the humor of the situation rose in his mind. ‘You’ll forgive + me, won’t you? Don’t tell Gretchen.’ The light in his eyes was gone now. + I’d rather she’d think me drunk than vulgar, and it was vulgar, and maybe + cowardly, to hit him, but I couldn’t help that either, and I’m not sorry I + did it.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘But I locked you in,’ I persisted. Was this some invention of his + fertile imagination, or was it true? + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, you locked the door,’ he answered, as he broke into a subdued + laugh. ‘I dropped from the window sill when it got dark—it wasn’t + high, about fifteen feet, and the waterspout helped—ran down the + back way, gave him a crack as he opened the door, and was back in bed by + the help of the same spout before he had come to. He was leaving the next + day and it was my only chance. I wasn’t out of the room five minutes—maybe + less. You’ll forgive me that too, won’t you?’” + </p> + <p> + Marny stopped and looked into the smouldering coals. For a brief instant + he did not speak. Then he rose from his chair, crossed the room, took the + miniature from the wall where he had hung it and looked at it steadily. + </p> + <p> + “What a delightful devil you were, Fiddles. And you were so human.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he living yet?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, he died in Gretchen’s arms. I kept my promise, and two months later + went back to the village to bring him to America with me, but a forester’s + bullet had ended him. It was on the Baroness’s grounds, too. He wouldn’t + halt and the guard fired. Think of killing such an adorable savage—and + all because the blood of the primeval man boiled in his veins. Oh, it was + damnable!” + </p> + <p> + “And you know nothing more about him? Where he came from?” The story had + strangely moved me. “Were there no letters or notebooks? Nothing to show + who he really was?” + </p> + <p> + “Only an empty envelope postmarked ‘Berlin.’ This had reached him the day + before, and was sealed with a coat of arms in violet wax.” + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Fiddles, by F. 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