雙語(yǔ)·豪夫童話 施佩薩特林中客棧_鹿金幣的傳說(shuō)

The Inn in the Spessart_The Hirsch-gulden

In Upper-Suabia still stands the walls of a castle that was once the stateliest of the surrounding country, Hohen-Zollern. It rose from the summit of a round steep mountain, from whence one had a distant and unobstructed view of the country. Farther than this castle could be seen from the encircling horizon, was the brave race of the Zollerns feared; and their name was known and honored in all German countries. There lived several hundred years ago, in this castle, a Zollern, who was by nature a singular man. One could not say that he oppressed his subjects, or that he lived at war with his neighbors; yet no one trusted him, on account of his sullen look, his knitted brow, and his moody, crusty manner. There were few people, outside of the castle servants, who had ever heard him speak properly like other people; for when he rode through the valley, if one met him, gave him the road, and said to him with uncovered head, “Good evening, Sir Count! It is a fine day,” he would answer, “Stupid stuff,” or, “I know it already.” If, however, one had been inattentive to his wants or had neglected his charger, or if a peasant with his cart met him on a narrow road, so that the count could not pass him quickly enough, he broke out into a torrent of curses. Yet it was never said of him on these occasions that he had struck a peasant. But all through this region he was called “The Tempest of Zollern.”

“The Tempest” of Zollern had a wife who was a complete contrast to himself, and as mild and pleasant as a May morning. Often by her friendly words and her kind glance had she reconciled to her husband people whom he, by his rude speech, had deeply insulted. To the poor she did all the good in her power; nor could the warmest days of Summer or the most terrible snow storms of Winter prevent her from descending the steep mountain to visit poor people or sick children. If the count met her on these errands, he would say in a surly manner, “Know already—stupid stuff,” and proceed on his way.

Many ladies would have been discouraged or intimidated by such a crusty manner; one would have thought, “why should I concern myself with poor people when my husband calls it all stupid stuff?” another, through pride or sorrow, might have lost her love for so moody a husband;but not so with the Countess Hedwig of Zollern. She was constant in her affection, strove to smooth the lines on his brow with her beautiful white hand, and loved and honored him. And when after a long time Heaven bestowed upon them the gift of a son, she loved her husband none the less while conferring all the duties of a tender mother on her little boy.

Three years went by, and the Count of Zollern saw his son only on Sunday afternoons, when the child was handed to him by the nurse. He looked at him without changing a feature of his face, growled something through his beard, and gave him back to the nurse. But when the boy was able to say “father,” the count gave the nurse a gulden, but showed no pleasanter face to the boy.

On his third birthday, however, the count had his son put on the first pair of breeches and had him dressed splendidly in velvet and silk. Then he ordered his horse, and also another fine horse for his son, took the child up on his arm, and began to descend the spiral staircase. The countess was astonished as she saw this. She was not accustomed to inquire where he was going and when he would return; but this time anxiety for her child opened her lips.

“Are you going to ride out, Sir Count?” she asked. He made no reply.

“For what purpose do you take the child?” continued she, “Cuno will take a walk with me.”

“Know already,” replied the Tempest of Zollern; and kept on his way till he stood in the court-yard, where he took the boy by one of his little feet and lifted him into the saddle, bound him fast, and then swinging himself on his horse, trotted out of the castle gate with the bridle of his son's horse in his hand.

At first the little fellow regarded it as a great treat to ride down the mountain with his father. He clapped his hands, laughed, shook the mane of his horse to make him go faster, all of which pleased the count so much that he called out several times: “You will make a brave lad!”

But when they came to the foot of the mountain, and the count's horse began to trot, the boy lost his courage, and begged, at first very quietly, that his father would ride slower; but as the count spurred on his horse, and the strong wind nearly took poor Cuno's breath away, the boy began to cry, became more and more impatient, and finally howled at the top of his lungs.

“Know already! Stupid stuff!” began his father. “The young one howls on his first ride; be still, or—”

But in the moment he was about to stop the boy's cries by a curse, his horse reared, and the bridle of his son's horse slipped from his hand. He gave his attention to quieting his horse, and when he had mastered it and looked around for his child, he saw the other horse running up the mountain without its little rider.

Stern and unfeeling as was the Count of Zollern, this sight struck him to the heart. He believed his son had been dashed to the ground and killed. He pulled his beard and groaned; but nowhere could he find a trace of the boy. He had just began to think that the frightened horse had thrown him into the ditch that ran along the road, full of water, when he heard a child's voice call his name, and as he quickly turned, there sat an old woman under a tree, not far from the road, rocking the child on her knees.

“How do you come by that boy, old witch?” shouted the count angrily. “Bring him to me at once.”

“Not so fast, not so fast, your Honor!” laughed the ugly old woman,“or you too might meet with an accident on your proud horse. How did I come by the boy, did you ask? Well, his horse ran by and he was hanging down by one little foot, with his hair touching the ground, when I caught him in my apron.”

“Know already!” cried the Count of Zollern, ill-humoredly. “Bring him here now; I can not very well dismount, my horse is wild and might kick him.”

“Give me a hirsch-gulden, then,” pleaded the woman humbly.

“Stupid stuff!” cried the count, and flung some copper coins to her under the tree.

“Oh, no! Come, I could make good use of a hirsch-gulden,”continued the old woman.

“What, a hirsch-gulden! You are not worth that much yourself!” said the count angrily. “Quick with that child, or I will set the dogs on you!”

“So, I am not worth a hirsch-gulden, eh?” replied the old woman with a mocking laugh. “Well, it shall be seen what part of your heritage is worth a hirsch-gulden; but there, keep your money!” So saying, she tossed the three copper coins to the count; and so well could the old woman throw, that all three of the coins fell into the purse that the count still held in his hand.

The count was struck dumb with astonishment at this exhibition of skill, but at last his surprise was changed into anger. He grasped his gun, cocked it, and took aim at the old woman. But she, unmoved, hugged and kissed the boy, holding him up before her so as to protect herself from the bullet. “You are a good little fellow,” said she. “Only remain so, and you will never want for any thing.” Then she let him go, shook her finger threateningly at the count, and said: “Zollern, Zollern! You owe me a hirsch-gulden!” With that she moved off slowly into the forest, leaning on a staff of box-wood. Conrad, the attendant, dismounted from his horse trembling, lifted his little master into the saddle, vaulted up behind him, and followed the count up to the castle.

This was the first and last time that the Tempest of Zollern took his son out riding with him; for because the boy had cried when his horse broke into a trot, the count regarded him as a spiritless child out of whom nothing was to be made, and looked on him with displeasure; and when the boy, who loved his father dearly, came in a friendly, coaxing way to his knee, he would motion him to go away, exclaiming: “Know it already! Stupid stuff!”

The countess had patiently borne all the unpleasant caprices of her husband, but this unfatherly behavior towards an innocent child affected her deeply. She fell sick several times with terror, when the sullen count had punished the boy severely for some trivial offense, and died at last in her best years, and was mourned by her servants, by the people for miles around, but especially by her little son.

From this time forth the aversion of the count for his son steadily progressed. He turned the lad over to the nurse and the house-chaplain to bring up, and looked after him but little himself—especially as shortly after his wife's death he married a rich young lady, who in a twelvemonth presented him with twins.

Cuno's favorite walk was to the house of the old woman who had once saved his life. She told him many things about his dead mother, and how much the countess had done for her. The men and maid-servants often warned him that he should not visit the Frau Feldheimerin so often, because she was nothing more nor less than a witch; but the boy was not frightened by their tales, as the chaplain had taught him that there were no witches, and that the stories that certain women could bewitch one, and ride through the air on broomsticks to the Brocken Mountains, were lies. To be sure, he had seen many things about Frau Feldheimerin that he could not understand; the trick with the three coins that she had thrown so cleverly into his father's purse, he remembered distinctly. Then too she could prepare all manner of salves and decoctions with which she healed people and cattle; but it was not true, as was said of her, that she had a weather-pan, which, whenever she placed it over the fire, produced a terrible thunder-storm. She taught the little count much that was useful to him—various remedies for sick horses, a drink to cure hydrophobia, a bait for fishes, and many other things. The Frau Feldheimerin was soon his only company, for his nurse died, and his step-mother did not trouble herself much about him.

With his half-brothers, Cuno had a more sorrowful life than before. They had the good fortune to stick to their horses on their first ride, and the Tempest of Zollern, therefore, regarded them as apt and promising boys, and took them out to ride every day, and taught them all that he knew himself. But they did not learn much that was good from him, for he could neither read nor write, and he would not have his two precious sons wasting their time over such matters; but by the time they were ten years old they could swear as terribly as their father, quarreled with everybody, lived together as peacefully as would a dog and cat, and only when they joined hands to do Cuno a wrong were they at all friendly with each other.

Their mother did not grieve over this state of things, as she considered it healthful and strengthening for the boys to fight; but a servant told the count about their quarrels one day, and although he answered, “Know it already! Stupid stuff!” yet he tried to hit upon some plan for the future that would prevent his sons from killing each other, as he dreaded that threat of the Frau Feldheimerin, whom he held to be a witch: “Well, it shall be seen what part of your heritage is worth a hirsch-gulden.”

One day as he was hunting in the vicinity of his castle, his attention was attracted by two mountains, which from their form seemed well adapted for castles; and he at once resolved to build there. Upon one of these mountains he built the Castle Schalksberg, naming it after the smaller of the twins, who, on account of his many naughty tricks, had long ago received the nickname of the little Schalk from his father. The castle he built on the other hill he thought at first of calling Hirschguldenberg, in order to propitiate the old witch, because she did not esteem his heritage worth a hirsch-gulden; but he finally concluded to give it the simple name of Hirschberg. Such are the names of the two mountains to-day; and he who travels through the Suabian Alps can have them pointed out to him.

“The Tempest of Zollern” had at first designed to make a will bequeathing Zollern to his eldest son, Schalksberg to the little Schalk, and Hirschberg to the other twin; but his wife did not rest until he had changed it.

“The stupid Cuno—” such was the way she spoke of the poor boy, because he was not so wild and ungovernable as her sons—”the stupid Cuno is rich enough from what he inherited from his mother, without getting the beautiful castle of Zollern. And shall my sons get only a castle, to which nothing belongs but a forest?”

It was in vain that the count represented to her that one could not justly rob Cuno of his birthright; she wept and scolded, until “the Tempest of Zollern” who never gave way to any one, at last, for the sake of peace, surrendered to her, and willed Schalksberg to Schalk, Zollern to Wolf, the larger of the twins, and Hirschberg, with the village of Balinger, to Cuno. Soon afterwards he was taken severely ill. When the doctor told him he was going to die, he replied, “Know it already;” and when the chaplain begged him to prepare for the future life, he answered, “Stupid stuff,”cursed and stormed, and died, as he had lived, a great sinner.

But before his body was laid to rest, the countess produced the will, and sneeringly told Cuno that he might show his learning by reading what was written therein—namely, that he no longer had any business at Zollern. With her sons she rejoiced over the fine estate and the two castles which they had taken away from him, the first-born.

Cuno submitted, without complaint, to the provisions of the will;but with tears, he took leave of the castle where he was born, where his mother lay buried, and where the good chaplain lived, while not far away was the home of his only woman friend, Frau Feldheimerin. The castle of Hirschberg was, it is true, a fine stately building; but still it was so lonely and desolate for him, that he felt very homesick.

The countess and the twin brothers, who were now eighteen years old, sat one evening on the balcony looking down the mountain-side, when they perceived a stately knight riding up the road, followed by several servants and two mules bearing a sedan chair. They speculated for some time as to who he might be, when at last the little Schalk cried out:“Why, that is no other than our brother from Hirschberg!”

“The stupid Cuno!” said the countess in surprise. “Why, he is about to do us the honor of inviting us to visit him, and has brought along that splendid sedan to carry me to Hirschberg. Such kindness and politeness I had not given my son, the stupid Cuno, the credit of possessing. One politeness deserves another; let us go down to the gate to receive him;look pleased to see him, and perhaps he will make us some presents at Hirschberg—you a horse, and you a harness; and I have long wished to own his mother's ornaments.”

“I don’t want any presents from the stupid Cuno,” replied Wolf,“neither will I appear glad to see him; and for aught I care, he might follow our blessed father; then we should inherit Hirschberg and everything, and to you, madame, we would sell those ornaments at a low price.”

“Indeed, you good-for-nothing!” exclaimed his mother angrily, “I should have to buy the ornaments, should I? Is that your gratitude for my procuring Zollern for you? Little Schalk, I can have the ornaments free,can I not?

“No pay, no work, lady mother!” replied Schalk, laughing. “And if it be true that the ornaments are worth as much as most castles are, we certainly should not be fools enough to hang them around your neck. As soon as Cuno shuts his eyes for good, we will ride over there, divide every thing, and I will sell my part of the ornaments. Then if you will give more than the Jew, you shall have them.”

Thus speaking, they came to the castle gate, and the countess had great difficulty in concealing the rage she felt, as Count Cuno rode over the draw-bridge. When he saw his step-mother and brothers standing there, he stopped his horse, dismounted, and greeted them politely; for although they had done him much wrong, still he remembered that they were his brothers and that his father had loved this woman.

“Well, this is nice to have my son visit us,” said the countess, in a sweet voice, and with a gracious smile. “How do you like Hirschberg? Can one feel at home there? And you have furnished yourself with a sedan. Why, how splendid it is! An empress would have no cause to be ashamed of it; a wife will not be long wanting, I’m thinking, to ride around the country in it.”

“I have not thought about that yet, gracious mother,” replied Cuno,“and will therefore take home other company for my entertainment; for this purpose I have brought along the sedan.”

“Why, you are very kind and thoughtful,” interrupted the countess, as she bowed and smiled.

“For he can not ride a horse very well now,” continued Cuno, quietly.“Father Joseph, I mean, the chaplain. I will take him home with me, for he is my old teacher, and we made that arrangement when I left Zollern. I will also pick up the old Frau Feldheimerin at the foot of the mountain. Why, bless me, she's as old as the hills, and saved my life once when I rode out for the first time with my blessed father. I have plenty of room in Hirschberg, and she shall live and die there.” So saying, he passed through the court-yard to call the chaplain.

The youngster Wolf bit his lips angrily; the countess became livid with rage; while Schalk laughed aloud. “What will you give me for the horse that I received as a present from him?” said he. “Brother Wolf, will you trade off your harness for it? Is he going to take home the chaplain and the old witch? They will make a fine pair; in the forenoon he can learn Greek from the chaplain, and in the afternoon take lessons in witchcraft from Frau Feldheimerin. Why, what kind of tricks is the stupid Cuno up to!”

“He is a low, vulgar fellow,” cried the countess, “and you shouldn’t laugh about it, little Schalk. It is a shame for the whole family, and we shall be the sport of the neighborhood when it is reported that the Count of Zollern has fetched the old witch home to live with him in a splendid sedan. He gets that from his mother, who was also familiar with the sick and with miserable servants. Alas, his father would turn in his coffin if he could know of it.”

“Yes,” added Schalk, “father would say in his grave: ‘Know already! Stupid stuff!’”

“As sure as you live! There he comes now with the old man, and is not ashamed to take him by the arm,” exclaimed the countess, in disgust.“Come, I don’t wish to meet him again.”

They went off, and Cuno conducted his old teacher to the drawbridge, and assisted him into the sedan. They stopped at the foot of the mountain, before the hut of Frau Feldheimerin, and found her waiting with a bundle full of glasses, dishes, and medicines.

But Cuno's action was not looked at in the light prophesied by the countess. It was thought to be noble and praiseworthy that he should try to cheer the last days of the old Frau Feldheimerin, and that he should take Father Joseph into his castle. The only ones who disliked and slandered him were his brothers and his stepmother. But only to their own hurt;for everybody took an aversion to such unnatural brothers, and by way of retaliation the story went that they lived in continual strife with their mother and did all they could to harm one another. Count Cuno made several attempts to reconcile his brothers to himself, for it was unbearable to him when they rode by his castle without stopping, or when they met him in the field and forest and greeted him as coldly as though he were a stranger. But his attempts failed, and only increased their bitterness towards him. One day a plan occurred to him by which he might perhaps win their hearts, for he knew that they were miserly and avaricious. There was a pond situated at about an equal distance from the three castles, but lying in Cuno's domain. This pond contained the finest pike and carp to be found any where; and it was one of the chief grievances of the twin-brothers, who were fond of fishing, that their father had not included this pond in the land he had given them. They were too proud to fish there without their brother's knowledge, neither would they ask permission of him. But Cuno knew that his brothers had set their hearts on this pond, so he sent an invitation to them to meet him there on a certain day.

It was a beautiful Spring morning, as, nearly at the same moment, the three brothers from the three castles met.

“Why, look you!” said Schalk; “we are well met! I rode away from Schalksberg just on the stroke of seven.”

“So did I,”—“and I,” repeated the brothers from Hirschberg and Zollern.

“Well, then, the pond must lie precisely in the middle,” continued Schalk. “It is a beautiful sheet of water.”

“Yes, and for that reason did I choose this spot for our meeting. I know that you are both fond of fishing, and although I sometimes throw a line myself, yet there are fish enough here for three castles, and on these banks there is room enough for us three, even were we all to meet here at the same time. Therefore, I propose from this time forth that this pond shall be the common property of us three, and each one of you shall have the same rights here that I do.”

“Why, our brother is certainly graciously minded,” said Schalk, in a jeering way. “He really gives us six acres of water and a few hundred little fishes! And what shall we have to give in return?”

“You shall have it free,” said Cuno. “I should like to see and speak with you at this pond now and then. We are the sons of one father.”

“No,” exclaimed Schalk; “that would not do at all, for there is nothing more silly than to fish in company; one is always frightening off the other's fishes. We might, however, decide on days for each one—say Monday and Thursday for you, Cuno, Tuesday and Friday for Wolf, and Wednesday and Saturday for me. Such an arrangement would suit me.”

“But I won’t agree to that,” cried the surly Wolf. “I don’t want any free gift, neither will I divide my rights with any one. You were right, Cuno, in making your offer, for in justice the pond belongs as much to one as to the other; but let us throw the dice to decide who shall have the entire ownership for the future, and if I am more fortunate than you, then you will have to come to me for permission to fish.”

“I never throw,” replied Cuno, sad at this display of obduracy on the part of his brothers.

“Of course not,” sneered Schalk. “Our brother is so pious that he thinks it is a deadly sin to throw dice. But I will make another proposal, to which the most religious recluse could offer no objection: Let us get some bait and hooks, and he who shall have caught the most fish this morning when the bell of Zollern strikes twelve, will be the owner of the pond.”

“I am truly a fool,” responded Cuno, “to strive for that which is mine by right of inheritance; but that you may see that my offer of a division was made in earnest, I will fetch my fishing tackle.”

They rode home, each one to his own castle. The twins sent their servants out in all haste, with orders to turn over all the old stones near by, and to collect what worms they found underneath them for bait. But Cuno took his usual fishing tackle, together with the bait which Frau Feldheimerin had once learned him to prepare, and was the first to reach the pond again. On the arrival of the twins he allowed them the first choice of position, and then threw in his own line. Then it was as if the fish seemed to recognize in him the owner of the pond. Whole schools of carp and pike drew near and swarmed about his line. The oldest and largest crowded the small fry aside; every moment he landed a fish, and each time he cast his line twenty or thirty darted at the hook with open mouths. Before two hours had passed, the ground around him was covered with fish; then he laid down his line and went over to where his brothers sat, to see how they were getting along. Schalk had one poor little carp and two paltry shiners; while Wolf had caught three barbels and two little gudgeons, and both looked sadly down into the water, for they had seen from their place the vast number that Cuno had caught.

When Cuno approached his brother Wolf, the latter sprang up in a rage, tore off his line, broke his rod into small pieces and flung them into the pond. “I wish I had a thousand hooks to throw in there, instead of one, and that a fish, was wriggling on every one of them,” cried he; “but this could never have occurred in a natural way, it is sorcery and witchcraft, or how should you, stupid Cuno, catch more fish in one hour than I could take in a year?”

“Yes, that's so,” echoed Schalk. “I remember now that he learned how to fish from that vile witch, Frau Feldheimerin; and we were fools to fish with him; he will be a wizard himself one of these days.”

“You wicked fellows!” returned Cuno, sadly. “I have had time enough this morning to get an insight into your avarice, your shamelessness, and your insolence. Go now, and never return here; and believe it would be better for your souls if you were half as pious and good as she whom you have called a witch.”

“No, she is not a genuine witch,” sneered Schalk. “Such wives can prophesy; but Frau Feldheimerin is about as much of a prophetess as a goose is a swan. Didn’t she tell our father that one would be able to buy a good part of his heritage for a hirsch-gulden? And yet at his death everything within sight of the towers of Zollern belonged to him. Frau Feldheimerin is nothing more than a silly old hag, and you the stupid Cuno.”

Thus saying, Schalk ran off as fast as he could, for he feared the strong arm of his brother Cuno; and Wolf followed him, shouting back all the cursed he had learned from his father.

Grieved to the soul, Cuno returned home; for he now saw plainly that his brothers would never be reconciled to him. And he took their bitter words so seriously to heart that he fell sick the next day, and only the consoling words of good Father Joseph, and the strengthening remedies of Frau Feldheimerin, rescued him from death.

But when his brothers heard that Cuno lay very sick, they sat down to a jovial banquet, and over their cups made an agreement that the one who should be the first to hear of his death was to fire off a cannon, in order to notify the other of the event, and he who fired first might take the best cask of wine in Cuno's cellar. From this time forth Wolf stationed a watchman in the vicinity of Hirschberg, while Schalk bribed one of Cuno's servants with a large sum of money, to inform him, without delay, when Cuno was breathing his last.

But this servant was more faithful to his good and gentle master than to the wicked Count of Schalksberg. He inquired one evening of Frau Feldheimerin, very solicitously, after his master's health, and when she told him that the count was doing quite well, he related to her the project of the brothers of firing off guns when the Count Cuno should die. The old woman was infuriated, and quickly repeated this story to the count, who could hardly believe his brothers were so utterly heartless; so she advised him to put the matter to the proof by spreading a report of his death. The count summoned the servant to whom his brother had given a bribe, questioned him closely, and then ordered him to ride to Schalksberg and announce his approaching death.

As the servant was riding hastily down the hill, he was seen and stopped by the servant of Count Wolf, who asked him where he was riding to in such a hurry. “Alas!” was his reply. “My poor master will not outlive the night, they have all given him up.”

“Indeed! Has his time come?” cried the spy, as he ran to his horse,‘sprang on his back, and rode so fast towards Zollern, that his horse sank down at the gate, and he was himself only able to call out: “Count Cuno is dying!” Before he fell down senseless. Thereupon, the cannon of Hohen-Zollern thundered, and Count Wolf rejoiced with his mother, in anticipation of the cask of wine, over the castle and its belongings, the jewels, the pond, and the echo of his cannon.

But what he had taken for its echo, was the cannon of Schalksberg, and Wolf said smilingly to his mother: “It seems Schalk has had a spy there too, and therefore he and I will have to divide the wine equally, as well as the rest of the property.” With this he mounted his horse, fearing lest Schalk should arrive at Hirschberg before he did, and perhaps take away some of the jewels of the deceased. But the twins met at the fish-pond, and each blushed before the other, so apparent was the desire of both to be the first-comer at Hirschberg. They said not a word about Cuno,as they continued on their way together, but discussed in a brotherly manner how things should be arranged in the future, and to which of them Hirschberg should belong. But as they rode over the draw-bridge into the court, they saw their brother, safe and sound, looking out of the window;but anger and scorn flashed from his features.

The brothers shrank back in terror, taking him at first to be a ghost, and crossed themselves; but when they saw that he was still in flesh and blood, Wolf exclaimed:

“Stupid stuff! I thought you were dead.”

“Omittance is no quittance,” said Schalk, darting up at his half-brother a venomous look.

Cuno replied in a threatening voice: “From this hour, all bonds of brotherhood between us are broken. I heard the salute you fired; but know this, that I have five field-pieces here in the court that were loaded to do you honor. Take care to keep out of the range of my cannon, or you shall have a sample of our shooting at Hirschberg.”

They did not wait to be spoken to a second time, for they saw that their brother was fully in earnest; so they gave their horses the spurs and raced down the mountain, while their brother sent a parting shot after them, that whistled above th