The Ghost-Seer; or the Apparitionist; and Sport of DestinySchiller, Friedrich
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The Ghost-Seer; or the Apparitionist; and Sport of Destiny
Schiller, Friedrich
Ghost stories; Venice (Italy) -- Fiction
“‘There are more things in heav’n and earth,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’”
“Gracious prince!” replied I, “you seem to forget that you are retiring
to your pillow greatly enriched in prospect.” The deceased was the
hereditary prince.
“Do not remind me of it,” said the prince; “for should I even have
acquired a crown I am now too much engaged to occupy myself with such a
trifle. If that Armenian has not merely guessed by chance--”
“How can that be, my prince?” interrupted I.
“Then will I resign to you all my hopes of royalty in exchange for a
monk’s cowl.”
I have mentioned this purposely to show how far every ambitious idea was
then distant from his thoughts.
The following evening we went earlier than usual to the square of St.
Mark. A sudden shower of rain obliged us to take shelter in a
coffee-house, where we found a party engaged at cards. The prince took his
place behind the chair of a Spaniard to observe the game. I went into
an adjacent chamber to read the newspapers. A short time afterwards I
heard a noise in the card-room. Previously to the entrance of the
prince the Spaniard had been constantly losing, but since then he had
won upon every card. The fortune of the game was reversed in a striking
manner, and the bank was in danger of being challenged by the pointeur,
whom this lucky change of fortune had rendered more adventurous. A
Venetian, who kept the bank, told the prince in a very rude manner that
his presence interrupted the fortune of the game, and desired him to
quit the table. The latter looked coldly at him, remained in his place,
and preserved the same countenance, when the Venetian repeated his
insulting demand in French. He thought the prince understood neither
French nor Italian; and, addressing himself with a contemptuous laugh to
the company, said “Pray, gentlemen, tell me how I must make myself
understood to this fool.” At the same time he rose and prepared to
seize the prince by the arm. His patience forsook the latter; he
grasped the Venetian with a strong hand, and threw him violently on the
ground. The company rose up in confusion. Hearing the noise, I hastily
entered the room, and unguardedly called the prince by his name. “Take
care,” said I, imprudently; “we are in Venice.” The name of the prince
caused a general silence, which ended in a whispering which appeared to
me to have a dangerous tendency. All the Italians present divided into
parties, and kept aloof. One after the other left the room, so that we
soon found ourselves alone with the Spaniard and a few Frenchmen. “You
are lost, prince,” said they, “if you do not leave the city immediately.
The Venetian whom you have handled so roughly is rich enough to hire a
bravo. It costs him but fifty zechins to be revenged by your death.”
The Spaniard offered, for the security of the prince, to go for the
guards, and even to accompany us home himself. The Frenchmen proposed
to do the same.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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