came along in their wake. He was about the last man on earth to go on a hunt. He made this known without any help, by singing:
Is no succour near at hand?
For my intellect so reels,
I am doubtful if I stand
On my head or on my heels.
No gentleman, it's very clear,
Such a shock should ever know,
And when once I become a peer,
They shall not treat me so —
That seemed to suggest that something serious had happened, but no one knew what till Thaddeus and a crowd of peasants rushed wildly in.
"The Count's child, Arline, is attacked by an infuriated animal, and we fear she is killed," – that is what Florestein had been bemoaning, instead of hurrying to the rescue! The Count Arnheim ran in then, distraught with horror. But Thaddeus had not remained idle; he had rushed after the huntsmen. Presently he hurried back, bearing the child in his arms. The retainer whose business it was to care for Arline fell at the Count's feet.
"Oh, great sir, just as we were entering the forest a wild deer rushed at us, and only for the bravery of this young gipsy," – indicating Thaddeus – "the child would have been torn in pieces. As it is, she is wounded in the arm."
The Count took his beloved daughter in his arms.
"Her life is safe and the wound is not serious, thank God. Take her within and give her every care. And you, young man – you will remain with us and share our festivities – and ask of me anything that you will: I can never repay this service."
"Humph! Thaddeus is a fool," Devilshoof muttered. "First he served his enemy and now has to stand his enemy's thanks."
Thaddeus refused at first to remain, but when his refusal seemed to draw too much attention to the gipsy band, he consented, as a matter of discretion. So they all seated themselves at the table which had been laid in the garden, and while they were banqueting, the gipsies and peasants danced to add to the sport; and little Arline could be seen in the nurse's arms, at a window of the castle, watching the fun, her arm bound up.
"Now," cried the old Count, when the banquet was over, "I ask one favour of all – and that is that you drink to the health of our great Emperor." He rose and lifted his glass, assuming that all would drink. But that was a bit too much for Thaddeus! The Emperor was the enemy of Poland. Most certainly he would not drink – not even to save his life.
Florestein, who was always doing everything but what he ought, walked up to Thaddeus and pointed out his glass to him.
"Your fine acquaintance, uncle, is not overburdened with politeness, it seems to me. He does not respond to your wishes."
"What – does he not drink to the Emperor? My friend, I challenge you to drink this health." The old Count filled Thaddeus's glass and handed it to him.
"And thus I accept the challenge," Thaddeus cried; and before Devilshoof or any one else could stop him, the reckless chap went up to the statue of the Emperor and dashed the wine in its face.
This was the signal for a great uproar. The man who has dared insult the Emperor must be punished. The nobles made a dash for him, but the old Count was under an obligation too great to abandon Thaddeus yet. He tried to silence the enraged guests for a moment, and then said aside to Thaddeus:
"Go, I beg of you, your life is not worth a breath if you remain here. I cannot protect you – and indeed I ought not. Go at once," and he threw Thaddeus a purse of gold, meaning thus to reward him, and get him away quickly. Thaddeus immediately threw the purse amidst the nobles who were threatening him, and shouted:
"I am one whom gold cannot reward!" At that the angry men rushed upon him, but Devilshoof stood shoulder to shoulder with Thaddeus.
"Now, then, good folks, come on! I guess together we can give you a pretty interesting fight, if it's fighting you are after!" A scrimmage was just in Devilshoof's line, and once and forever he declared himself the champion of his new comrade.
"Really, this is too bad," Florestein whimpered, standing at the table with the bone of a pheasant in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. "Just as a man is enjoying his dinner, a boor like this comes along and interrupts him." But by that time the fight was on, and Thaddeus and Devilshoof were against the lot. The old Count ordered his retainers to separate the nobles and the gipsies, and then had Devilshoof bound and carried into the castle. Thaddeus was escorted off by another path.
The row was over and the nobles seated themselves again at the table. The nurse, who had Arline at the window, now left her nursling and came down to speak with the Count.
Immediately after she left the castle chamber, Devilshoof could be seen scrambling over the castle roof, having escaped from the room in which he was confined. Reaching the window where Arline was left, he closed it. The nurse had been gone only a moment, when she reëntered the room. Whatever had taken place in her absence caused her to scream frightfully. The whole company started up again, while the nurse threw open the window and leaned out, crying:
"Arline is gone – stolen – help, help!" All dashed into the castle. Presently some of the nobles came to the window and motioned to those left outside. It was quite true. Arline was gone. Out they all rushed again. Every one in the place had gone distracted. The poor old Count's grief was pitiable. At that moment Devilshoof could be seen triumphantly mounting the rocks, with Arline in his arms. He had avenged his comrade Thaddeus.
All at once the crowd saw the great gipsy leaping from rock to rock with the little child in his arms, and with a roar they started after him. Then Devilshoof seemed fairly to fly over the rocks, but the crowd gained upon him, till they reached a bridge which spanned a deep chasm; there Devilshoof paused; he was over, and with one tremendous effort he knocked from under the structure the trunk of a tree which supported the far end of the bridge, and down it went! The fall of timbers echoed back with Devilshoof's shout of laughter as he sped up the mountain with Arline.
The old Count ran to the chasm to throw himself headlong into it, but his friends held him back.
Twelve years after that day of the hunt in Count Arnheim's forests, the gipsies were encamped in Presburg. In those strange times gipsies roved about in the cities as well as in the fields and forests, and it was not at all strange to find the same old band encamped thus in the public street of a city. There, the gipsy queen had pitched her tent, and through its open curtains Arline could be seen lying upon a tiger's skin, while Thaddeus, who had never left the band, watched over her. There were houses on the opposite side of the street, and the gipsy queen's tent was lighted only dimly with a lamp that swung at the back, just before some curtains that formed a partition in the tent.
It was all quiet when the city patrol went by, and they had no sooner passed than Devilshoof entered the street, followed by others of the gipsy band, all wrapped in their dark cloaks.
"The moon is the only one awake now," they sang. "There is some fine business on foot, when the moon herself goes to bed," and they all drew their daggers. But Devilshoof, who was a pretty decent fellow, and who didn't believe in killing, whispered:
"Fie! Fie! When you are going to rob a gentleman, you shouldn't draw a knife on him. He will be too polite to refuse anything you may ask, if you ask politely" – which was Devilshoof's idea of wit. There was a hotel across the street, and one of the gipsies pointed to a light in its windows.
"It will be easy when our fine gentlemen have been drinking long enough. They won't know their heads from their heels." They stole off chuckling, to wait till they
