Austria -- Fiction; Devil -- Fiction; Middle Ages -- Fiction
The guests arrived at noon and filled the place. Father Adolf followed;
also, after a little, the astrologer, without invitation. The spies had
informed him that neither at the back nor the front had any parcels
been brought in. He entered, and found the eating and drinking going
on finely, and everything progressing in a lively and festive way. He
glanced around and perceived that many of the cooked delicacies and all
of the native and foreign fruits were of a perishable character, and
he also recognized that these were fresh and perfect. No apparitions,
no incantations, no thunder. That settled it. This was witchcraft. And
not only that, but of a new kind--a kind never dreamed of before. It
was a prodigious power, an illustrious power; he resolved to discover
its secret. The announcement of it would resound throughout the
world, penetrate to the remotest lands, paralyze all the nations with
amazement--and carry his name with it, and make him renowned forever.
It was a wonderful piece of luck, a splendid piece of luck; the glory
of it made him dizzy.
All the house made room for him; Marget politely seated him; Ursula
ordered Gottfried to bring a special table for him. Then she decked it
and furnished it, and asked for his orders.
“Bring me what you will,” he said.
The two servants brought supplies from the pantry, together with white
wine and red--a bottle of each. The astrologer, who very likely had
never seen such delicacies before, poured out a beaker of red wine,
drank it off, poured another, then began to eat with a grand appetite.
I was not expecting Satan, for it was more than a week since I had seen
or heard of him, but now he came in--I knew it by the feel, though
people were in the way and I could not see him. I heard him apologizing
for intruding; and he was going away, but Marget urged him to stay,
and he thanked her and stayed. She brought him along, introducing him
to the girls, and to Meidling, and to some of the elders; and there
was quite a rustle of whispers: “It’s the young stranger we hear so
much about and can’t get sight of, he is away so much.” “Dear, dear,
but he is beautiful--what is his name?” “Philip Traum.” “Ah, it fits
him!” (You see, “Traum” is German for “Dream.”) “What does he do?”
“Studying for the ministry, they say.” “His face is his fortune--he’ll
be a cardinal some day.” “Where is his home?” “Away down somewhere in
the tropics, they say--has a rich uncle down there.” And so on. He
made his way at once; everybody was anxious to know him and talk with
him. Everybody noticed how cool and fresh it was, all of a sudden, and
wondered at it, for they could see that the sun was beating down the
same as before, outside, and the sky was clear of clouds, but no one
guessed the reason, of course.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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