Volume 2 — XXXIV.

The mask approaches; it is Angelo himself. The rascal knows his business well; he must be sure of his facts.—Lessing.

IN a dark grove of old oaks, whose dense leaves the pale light of dawn can scarcely penetrate, a short man approaches another man who is alone, and seems to waiting for him. The following conversation begins in low tones:—

“Your worship must excuse me for keeping you waiting; several things detained me.”

“Such as what?”

“The leader of the mountain men, Kennybol, did not reach the appointed place until midnight; and we were also disturbed by an unlooked-for witness.”

“Who?”

“A fellow who thrust himself like a fool into the mine in the midst of our secret meeting. At first I took him for a spy, and would have put him to death; but he turned out to be the bearer of a safe-conduct from some gallows-bird held in great respect by our miners, and they instantly took him under their protection. When I came to consider the matter, I made up my mind that he was probably a curious traveller or a learned fool. At any rate, I have taken all necessary precautions in regard to him.”

“Is everything else going well?”

“Very well. The miners from Guldsbrandsdal and the Färöe Islands, led by young Norbith and old Jonas, with the mountain men from Kiölen, under Kennybol, are probably on the march at this moment. Four miles from Blue Star, their comrades from Hubfallo and Sund-Moer will join them; those from Kongsberg and the iron-workers from Lake Miösen, who have already compelled the Wahlstrom garrison to retreat, as your lordship knows, will await them a few miles farther on; and finally, my dear and honored master, these combined forces will halt for the night some two miles away from Skongen, in the gorges of Black Pillar.”

“But how did they receive your Hans of Iceland?”

“With perfect confidence.”

“Would that I could avenge my son’s death on that monster! What a pity that he should escape us!”

“My noble lord, first use Hans of Iceland’s name to wreak your revenge upon Schumacker; then it will be time enough to think of vengeance against Hans himself. The insurgents will march all day, and halt to-night in Black Pillar Pass, two miles from Skongen.”

“What! can you venture to let so large a force advance so close to Skongen? Musdœmon, take care!”

“You are suspicious, noble Count. Your worship may send a messenger at once to Colonel Vœthaün, whose regiment is probably at Skongen now; inform him that the rebel forces will encamp to-night in Black Pillar Pass, and have no misgivings. The place seems made purposely for ambuscades.”

“I understand you; but why, my dear fellow, did you muster the rebels in such numbers?”

“The greater the insurrection, sir, the greater will be Schumacker’s crime and your merit. Besides, it is important that it should be crushed at a single blow.”

“Very good; but why did you order them to halt so near Skongen?”

“Because it is the only spot in the mountains where all resistance is impossible. None will ever leave it alive but those whom we select to appear before the court.”

“Capital! Something tells me, Musdœmon, to finish this business quickly. If all looks well in this quarter, it looks stormy in another. You know that we have been making secret search at Copenhagen for the papers which we feared had fallen into the possession of Dispolsen?”

“Well, sir?”

“Well, I have just discovered that the scheming fellow had mysterious relations with that accursed astrologer, Cumbysulsum.”

“Who died recently?”

“Yes; and that the old sorcerer delivered certain papers to Schumacker’s agent before he died.”

“Damnation! He had letters of mine,—a statement of our plot!”

“Your plot, Musdœmon!”

“A thousand pardons, noble Count! But why did your worship put yourself in the power of such a humbug as Cumbysulsum?—the old traitor!”

“You see, Musdœmon, I am not a sceptic and unbeliever, like you. It is not without good reason, my dear fellow, that I have always put my trust in old Cumbysulsum’s magic skill.”

“I wish your worship had had as much doubt of his loyalty as you had trust in his skill. However, let us not take fright too soon, noble master. Dispolsen is dead, his papers are lost; in a few days we shall be safely rid of those whom they might benefit.”

“In any event, what charge could be brought against me?”

“Or me, protected as I am by your Grace?”

“Oh, yes, my dear fellow, of course you can count upon me; but let us bring this business to a head. I will send the messenger to the colonel. Come, my people are waiting for me behind those bushes, and we must return to Throndhjem, which the Mecklenburger must have left ere now. Continue to serve me faithfully, and in spite of all the Cumbysulsums and Dispolsens upon earth, you can count on me in life and death!”

“I beg your Grace to believe—The Devil!”

Here they plunged into the thicket, among whose branches their voices gradually died away; and soon after, no sound was heard save the tread of their departing steeds.