A Fool and His Money | Page 5

looking at
him, urged me to coddle the muse while she was willing and not to put
her off till an evil day, as frequently I am in the habit of doing.
It was especially annoying, coming as it did, just as I was about to set
off for a fortnight's motor-boat trip up the Danube with Elsie Hazzard
and her stupid husband, the doctor. I compromised with myself by
deciding to give them a week of my dreamy company, and then dash
off to England where I could work off the story in a sequestered village
I had had in mind for some time past.
The fourth day of our delectable excursion brought us to an ancient
town whose name you would recall in an instant if I were fool enough
to mention it, and where we were to put up for the night. On the crest of
a stupendous crag overhanging the river, almost opposite the town,
which isn't far from Krems, stood the venerable but unvenerated castle
of that highhanded old robber baron, the first of the Rothhoefens. He
has been in his sarcophagus these six centuries, I am advised, but you
wouldn't think so to look at the stronghold. At a glance you can almost
convince yourself that he is still there, with battle-axe and broad-sword,
and an inflamed eye at every window in the grim facade.

We picked up a little of its history while in the town, and the next
morning crossed over to visit the place. Its antiquity was considerably
enhanced by the presence of a caretaker who would never see eighty
again, and whose wife was even older. Their two sons lived with them
in the capacity of loafers and, as things go in these rapid times of ours,
appeared to be even older and more sere than their parents.
It is a winding and tortuous road that leads up to the portals of this huge
old pile, and I couldn't help thinking how stupid I have always been in
execrating the spirit of progress that conceives the funicular and
rack-and-pinion railroads which serve to commercialise grandeur
instead of protecting it. Half way up the hill, we paused to rest, and I
quite clearly remember growling that if the confounded thing belonged
to me I'd build a funicular or install an elevator without delay. Poor
Elsie was too fatigued to say what she ought to have said to me for
suggesting and even insisting on the visit.
The next day, instead of continuing our delightful trip down the river,
we three were scurrying to Saalsburg, urged by a sudden and
stupendous whim on my part, and filled with a new interest in life.
I had made up my mind to buy the castle!
The Hazzards sat up with me nearly the whole of the night, trying to
talk me out of the mad design, but all to no purpose. I was determined
to be the sort of fool that Uncle Rilas referred to when he so frequently
quoted the old adage. My only argument in reply to their entreaties was
that I had to have a quiet, inspirational place in which to work and
besides I was quite sure we could beat the impoverished owner down
considerably in the price, whatever it might turn out to be. While the
ancient caretaker admitted that it was for sale, he couldn't give me the
faintest notion what it was expected to bring, except that it ought to
bring more from an American than from any one else, and that he
would be proud and happy to remain in my service, he and his wife and
his prodigiously capable sons, either of whom if put to the test could
break all the bones in a bullock without half trying, Moreover, for such
strong men, they ate very little and seldom slept, they were so eager to
slave in the interests of the master. We all agreed that they looked

strong enough, but as they were sleeping with some intensity all the
time we were there, and making dreadful noises in the courtyard, we
could only infer that they were making up for at least a week of
insomnia.
I had no difficulty whatever in striking a bargain with the abandoned
wretch who owned the Schloss. He seemed very eager to submit to my
demand that he knock off a thousand pounds sterling, and we hunted up
a notary and all the other officials necessary to the transfer of property.
At the end of three days, I was the sole owner and proprietor of a feudal
stronghold on the Danube, and the joyous Austrian was a little farther
on his way to the dogs, a journey he had been negotiating with great
ardour ever since coming into possession