Findelkind | Page 9

in heaven speaks
to me."
Then he stopped, and a sob rose again in his throat.
"He is crazy!" said the people, laughing, yet a little scared; for the
priest at Zirl had said rightly, this is not an age of faith. At that moment
there sounded, coming from the barracks, that used to be the Schloss in
the old days of Kaiser Max and Mary of Burgundy, the sound of drums
and trumpets and the tramp of marching feet. It was one of the corps of
Jagers of Tyrol, going down from the avenue to the Rudolfplatz, with
their band before them and their pennons streaming. It was a familiar
sight, but it drew the street-throngs to it like magic: the age is not fond
of dreamers, but it is very fond of drums. In almost a moment the old
dark arcades and the river-side and the passages near were all empty,
except for the women sitting at their stalls of fruit or cakes, or toys.
They are wonderful old arched arcades, like the cloisters of a cathedral
more than anything else, and the shops under them are all homely and
simple,--shops of leather, of furs, of clothes, of wooden playthings, of
sweet and wholesome bread. They are very quaint, and kept by poor
folks for poor folks; but to the dazed eyes of Findelkind they looked
like a forbidden paradise, for he was so hungry and so heart- broken,
and he had never seen any bigger place than little Zirl.
He stood and looked wistfully, but no one offered him anything. Close
by was a stall of splendid purple grapes, but the old woman that kept it
was busy knitting. She only called to him to stand out of her light.
"You look a poor brat ; have you a home?" said another woman, who
sold bridles and whips and horses' bells, and the like.
"Oh, yes, I have a home,--by Martinswand," said Findelkind, with a
sigh.
The woman looked at him sharply. "Your parents have sent you on an
errand here?"
"No; I have run away."

"Run away? Oh, you bad boy!--unless, indeed,--are they cruel to you?"
"No; very good."
"Are you a little rogue, then, or a thief?"
"You are a bad woman to think such things," said Findelkind, hotly,
knowing himself on how innocent and sacred a quest he was.
"Bad? I? Oh, ho!" said the old dame, cracking one of her new whips in
the air, "I should like to make you jump about with this, you thankless
little vagabond. Be off!"
Findelkind sighed again, his momentary anger passing; for he had been
born with a gentle temper, and thought himself to blame much more
readily than he thought other people were,--as, indeed, every wise child
does, only there are so few children--or men-- that are wise.
He turned his head away from the temptation of the bread and fruit
stalls, for in truth hunger gnawed him terribly, and wandered a little to
the left. From where he stood he could see the long, beautiful street of
Teresa, with its oriels and arches, painted windows and gilded signs,
and the steep, gray, dark mountains closing it in at the distance; but the
street frightened him, it looked so grand, and he knew it would tempt
him; so he went where he saw the green tops of some high elms and
beeches. The trees, like the dogs, seemed like friends. It was the human
creatures that were cruel.
At that moment there came out of the barrack gates, with great noise of
trumpets and trampling of horses, a group of riders in gorgeous
uniforms, with sabres and chains glancing and plumes tossing. It
looked to Findelkind like a group of knights,--those knights who had
helped and defended his namesake with their steel and their gold in the
old days of the Arlberg quest. His heart gave a great leap, and he
jumped on the dust for joy, and he ran forward and fell on his knees
and waved his cap like a little mad thing, and cried out
"Oh, dear knights! oh, great soldiers! help me! Fight for me, for the
love of the saints! I have come all the way from Martinswand, and I am
Findelkind, and I am trying to serve St. Christopher like Findelkind of
Arlberg."
But his little swaying body and pleading hands and shouting voice and
blowing curls frightened the horses; one of them swerved and very
nearly settled the woes of Findelkind for ever and aye by a kick. The
soldier who rode the horse reined him in with difficulty. He was at the

head of the little staff, being indeed no less or more than the general
commanding the garrison, which in this city is some fifteen thousand
strong. An