Adrift in Pacific and Other Great Adventures – 17 Titles in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). Jules Verne
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a little light to pass, while the other when opened gave an extensive view over the lower valley of the Vulkan. A few feet below it rolled the tumultuous waters of the Nyad torrent. On one side the torrent descended the slopes of the range from its rise on the plateau of Orgall, which was crowned by the castle buildings; on the other, abundantly fed by the mountain streams, even during summer time it flowed along to the Wallachian Syl, which absorbed it in its course.
On the right, adjoining the large room, a half-dozen of small rooms were enough to accommodate the few travellers who before crossing the frontier desired to rest at the “King Mathias.” They were sure of a good welcome at moderate charges, from an attentive and obliging landlord, who was always well provided with good tobacco, which he bought in the best “trafiks” of the neighbourhood. As for Jonas himself, he occupied a narrow attic, the old-fashioned window of which patched the thatch with flowers, and looked out on to the terrace.
In this inn, on this very night of the 29th of May, there were gathered all the wise-heads of Werst—Master Koltz, Magister Hermod, the forester Nic Deck, a dozen of the chief inhabitants, and also the shepherd Frik, who was not the least important of these personages. Doctor Patak was absent from this meeting of notables. Sent for in all haste by one of his old patients who was only waiting for him in order to pass away into another world, he had agreed to come to the inn as soon as his attentions were no longer necessary to the defunct.
While waiting for the doctor the company talked about the serious event of the day, but they did not talk without eating or drinking. To the hungry Jonas offered that kind of hasty pudding or maize pudding known under the name of “mamaliga,” which is not at all disagreeable when taken with new milk. To the others he offered many a small glass of those strong liqueurs which roll like pure water down Roumanian throats, or “schnapps,” costing about a farthing a glass, and more particularly “rakiou,” a strong spirit from plums, of which the consumption is considerable among the Carpathians.
It should be mentioned that the landlord Jonas—it was the custom of the inn—only served the customers when they were sitting down, as he had observed that seated consumers consume more copiously than consumers on their feet. This evening matters looked promising, for all the seats were full; and Jonas was going from one table to another, jug in hand, filling up the glasses which were constantly empty.
It was half-past eight in the evening. They had been talking since dusk without deciding what they should do. But they were agreed on one point, and that was that if the Castle of the Carpathians was inhabited by the unknown, it had become as dangerous to Werst as a powder magazine would be at the gate of a town.
“It is a serious affair,” said Master Koltz.
“Very serious,” said the Magister, between two puffs of inseparable pipe.
"Very serious,” said the company.
"There is no doubt,” said Jonas, “that the evil repute of the castle does much harm to the country round about—”
“And now,” said Magister Hermod, “there is this thing also—”
“Strangers do not come here often,” said Master Koltz with a sigh.
“And now they will not come at all!” added Jonas, sighing in unison with the biro.
“Some of the people will be going away,” said one of the drinkers.
“I shall go first of all,” said a peasant from the outskirts; “and I will go as soon as I can sell my vines.”
“For which you will find no buyers, old man,” said the tavern-keeper.
One can see what these worthies were driving at in their talk. Amid the personal terrors occasioned them by the Castle of the Carpathians, rose the anxiety for their interests so regrettably injured. If there were no more travellers, Jonas would suffer in the revenue of his inn. If there were no more strangers, Master Koltz would suffer in the receipt of the tolls, which gradually grew less. If there were no more buyers, the owners could not sell their lands even at a low price. That would last for years, and the situation, already very unsatisfactory, would become worse.
In fact, if it had been so while the spirits of the castle had kept out of sight, what would it be now that they manifested their presence by material acts?
Then the shepherd Frik thought he ought to say something, but in a hesitating sort of way,—
“Perhaps we may have to—”
“What?” asked Master Koltz.
“Go there, master, and see.”
The company looked at each other, and then lowered their eyes, and the question remained without reply.
Then Jonas, addressing Master Koltz, took up the word in a firm voice.
“Your shepherd,” he said, “has just pointed out the only thing we can do.”
“Go to the castle?”
“Yes, my good friends,” said the innkeeper. “If there is a smoke from the donjon chimney, it is because there is a fire, and if there is a fire it must have been lighted by a hand—”
“A hand!—at least a claw!” said an old peasant, shaking his head.
“Hand or claw,” said the innkeeper, “what does it matter? We must know what it means. It is the first time that smoke has come out of the castle chimneys since Baron Rodolphe of Gortz left it.”
“But there might have been smoke without anybody noticing it,” said Master Koltz.
“That I will never admit!” said Magister Hermod suddenly.
“But it might be,” replied the biro, “if we had not got the telescope to watch what was happening at the castle.”
It was well said. The phenomenon might have happened frequently and escaped even the shepherd Frik, good as were his eyes. But anyhow, whether the said phenomenon were recent or not, it was certain that human beings were actually living at the Castle of the Carpathians; and this fact constituted an extremely disturbing state of things for the inhabitants of Vulkan and Werst.
Then Magister Hermod made this remark in support of his belief,—
“Human beings, my friends? You will allow me not to believe it. Why should human beings think of taking refuge in the castle? for what reason? and how did they get there?”
“What do you think these intruders are, then?” exclaimed Master Koltz.
“Supernatural beings!” said Magister Hermod in an imposing voice. “Why should they not be spirits, goblins, perhaps even those dangerous lamias which present themselves under the form of beautiful women?”
During this enumeration every look was directed towards the door, towards the windows, or towards the chimney of the big saloon of the “King Mathias.” And in truth the company asked themselves if they were not about to see one or other of these phantoms successively evoked by the schoolmaster.
“However, my good friends,” said Jonas, “if these beings are of that kind, I don’t understand why they should have lighted a fire, for they have no cooking to do—”
“And their sorceries?” said the shepherd. “Do you forget that they want a fire for their sorceries?”
“Evidently!” said the Magister in a tone which admitted of no reply.
The reply was accepted without protest, and in the opinion of all there could be no doubt that it must be supernatural and not human beings who had chosen the Castle of the Carpathians as the scene of their operations.
Up to this point Nic Deck had taken no part in the conversation. He had been content to listen attentively to what was said by one and the other. The old castle with its mysterious walls, its ancient origin, its feudal appearance, had always inspired him with as much curiosity as respect. And being very brave, although he was as credulous as any inhabitant of Werst, he had more than once even manifested a desire to enter the old