Adrift in Pacific and Other Great Adventures – 17 Titles in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). Jules Verne
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to Nicolas Deck?
A handsome type of Roumanian was this Nicolas, or, rather, Nic Deck, twenty-five years of age, tall, strong in constitution, head well set on his shoulders, hair black, covered by the white kolpak, look clear and frank, bearing himself well under his vest of lambskin embroidered with needlework, well set on his slender legs, legs as of a deer, and an air of determination in his gait and gestures. He as a forester by trade; that is to say, almost as much a soldier as a civilian. As he owned a little land under cultivation in the environs of Werst he was approved of by the father, and as he was a good-looking, well-made fellow he was approved of by the daughter, with whom he was deeply in love. He would not allow anyone to attempt to rival him, nor to look at her too closely—and no one thought of doing so.
The marriage of Nic Deck and Miriota Koltz was to take place in a fortnight, towards the middle of tho approaching month. On that occasion the village would hold a general holiday. Master Koltz would do the thing properly. He was no miser. If he liked getting money, he did not refuse to spend it when opportunity offered.
When the ceremony was over Nic Deck would take up his residence in the house which would be his when the biro was gone; and when Miriota knew he was near her, perhaps she would cease to fear, as she heard the creak of a door or the rattling of a window in the long winter nights, that some phantom escaped from her favourite legends was about to put in an appearance.
To complete the list of the notables of Werst, we must mention two more, and these not the least important, the schoolmaster and the doctor.
Magister Hermod was a big man in spectacles, about forty-five years old, having always between his lips the curved stem of his pipe with the porcelain bowl, his hair thin and disordered on a flattish head, his face hairless, with a twitching in the left cheek. His great occupation was cutting the pens of his pupils, whom he forbade to use steel pens on principle. But how he lengthened the nibs with his old pointed pocket-knife! With what precision and winking of his eyes did he give the final touch by cutting the point! Above everything good handwriting—to that all his efforts were directed; it was to that that a schoolmaster careful of his mission should urge his pupils. Instruction was of secondary importance—and we know what Magister Hermod taught and what the generations of boys and girls learnt on the benches of his school.
And now for the turn of Doctor Patak. What! a doctor at Werst, and yet the village still believed in the supernatural?
Yes; but we may as well be clear as to the title borne by Doctor Patak as we had to be regarding that borne by Judge Koltz.
Patak was a little man with a prominent corporation, short and fat, aged about forty-five, ostensibly acting as medical adviser in Werst and its neighbourhood. With his imperturbable self-confidence, his deafening loquacity, he inspired no less confidence than the shepherd Frik and that is not saying little. He dealt in consultations and drugs; but so harmless were they that they made no worse the petty ailments of his patients, who would have got well had they been left to themselves. People are healthy enough in these parts; the air is of the first quality, epidemic maladies are there unknown; if people die it is because they must, even in this privileged corner of Transylvania. As to Doctor Patak—yes, they called him doctor!—although he was accepted as such, he had had no education either in medicine or in pharmacy or in anything. He was merely an old quarantine attendant, whose occupation consisted in looking after the travellers detained on the frontier for health purposes. Nothing more. That, it appeared, was enough for the easy-going people of Werst.
It could be added—and there is nothing surprising in it—Doctor Patak was a wide-awake fellow, as is usually the case with one who has to look after other people. And he believed in none of the superstitions current in the Carpathian district, not even in those that were cherished in the village. He laughed at them, he made fun of them. And when he was told that no one had dared to approach the castle from time immemorial, he would say,—
“You must not dare me to visit the old hovel!”
But as they did not dare him, as they carefully kept from daring him, Doctor Patak had never been there, and with the help of credulity the Castle of the Carpathians remained enveloped in impenetrable mystery.
CHAPTER IV.
In a few minutes the news brought by the shepherd had spread in the village. Master Koltz, carrying the precious telescope, went back into his house, followed by Nic Deck and Miriota. There now remained on the terrace only Frik surrounded by about twenty men, women, and children, among whom were a few Tsiganes, who were not the least excited among the Werst population. They surrounded Frik, they bombarded him with questions, and the shepherd replied with the superb importance of a man who had just seen something quite extraordinary.
“Yes!” he repeated, “the castle was smoking, it still smokes, and it will smoke until not one stone of it remains on another.”
“But who could have lighted the fire?” asked an old woman with her hands clasped.
“The Chort!” said Frik, giving the devil the name he is known by in the district. “And he is the rascal who knows how to light a fire much better than how to put it out!”
And at that reply everyone looked to try and find the smoke on the top of the donjon. In the end most of them affirmed they could distinguish it perfectly, although it was quite invisible at that distance.
The effect produced by this singular phenomenon exceeded everything imaginable. It is necessary to insist on this point. The reader must put himself in the place of the people of Werst and he will not be astonished at what follows. I do not ask him to believe in the supernatural, but to understand that this ignorant people believed in it without reservation. To the mistrust inspired by the Castle of the Carpathians, which up to then was supposed to be deserted, was to be added the terror that it now seemed to be inhabited, and by such beings! Good heavens!
There was at Werst a meeting-place frequented by drinkers, and even beloved by those who, without drinking, delighted in talking over matters at the close of the day—the latter in small numbers, be it understood. This place, open to all, was the chief, or rather the only, inn in the village.
Who was the proprietor of this inn? A Jew of the name of Jonas, a fine fellow of about sixty, of pleasing physiognomy, although rather Semitic, with black eyes, hook nose, long lip, smooth hair, and the traditional beard. Obsequious and obliging, he willingly lent little sums to one or the other without being too particular as to security nor too usurious as regards interest, although he expected to be paid on the dates fixed by the borrower. Would to heaven that the Jews in Transylvania were always as accommodating as the innkeeper of Werst!
Unfortunately this excellent Jonas was an exception. His fellows in religion, his brethren by profession—for they are all innkeepers, selling drinks and groceries—carry on the trade of money-lenders with a bitterness that is not promising for the future of the Roumanian peasant. Gradually the land is passing from the native to the foreigner. In default of being repaid their advances, the Jews are becoming the proprietors of the finest farms mortgaged to their advantage; and if the Promised Land is not to be that of Israel, it may one day make its appearance on the maps of Transylvanian geography.
The inn of the “King Mathias”—such is its name—occupies one of the corners of the terrace which crosses the main street of Werst, and is immediately opposite the biro’s house. It is an old structure, half wood, half stone, much patched in places, but a good deal covered with verdure, and of very attractive appearance. It consists only of the ground floor, with a glass door giving access to the terrace. Inside one first entered a large room furnished with tables for the glasses and benches for the drinkers, with a sideboard in varnished oak on which gleamed the dishes, pots, and bottles, and a counter of black wood, behind which Jonas stood ready for his customers.
Light was obtained from two windows which were in the wall facing