The Deserted House | Page 5

the story of
the strange and grewsome singing with the appearance of the beautiful
arm at the window? That arm could not be part of the wrinkled body of

an old woman; the singing, according to the pastry cook's story, could
not come from the throat of a blooming and youthful maiden. I decided
in favor of the arm, as it was easy to explain to myself that some trick
of acoustics had made the voice sound sharp and old, or that it had
appeared so only in the pastry cook's fear-distorted imagination. Then I
thought of the smoke, the strange odors, the oddly formed crystal bottle
that I had seen, and soon the vision of a beautiful creature held
enthralled by fatal magic stood as if alive before my mental vision. The
old man became a wizard who perhaps quite independently of the
family he served, had set up his devil's kitchen in the deserted house.
My imagination had begun to work, and in my dreams that night I saw
clearly the hand with the sparkling diamond on its finger, the arm with
the shining bracelet. From out thin, gray mists there appeared a sweet
face with sadly imploring blue eyes, then the entire exquisite figure of a
beautiful girl. And I saw that what I had thought was mist was the fine
steam flowing out in circles from a crystal bottle held in the hands of
the vision.
"Oh, fairest creature of my dreams," I cried in rapture. "Reveal to me
where thou art, what it is that enthralls thee. Ah, I know it! It is black
magic that holds thee captive--thou art the unhappy slave of that
malicious devil who wanders about brown-clad and bewigged in pastry
shops, scattering their wares with his unholy springing, and feeding his
demon dog on macaroons, after they have howled out a Satanic
measure in five-eight time. Oh, I know it all, thou fair and charming
vision. The diamond is the reflection of the fire of thy heart. But that
bracelet about thine arm is a link of the chain which the brown-clad one
says is a magnetic chain. Do not believe it, O glorious one! See how it
shines in the blue fire from the retort. One moment more and thou art
free. And now, O maiden, open thy rosebud mouth and tell me--" In
this moment a gnarled fist leaped over my shoulder and clutched at the
crystal bottle, which sprang into a thousand pieces in the air. With a
faint, sad moan, the charming vision faded into the blackness of the
night.
When morning came to put an end to my dreaming I hurried to the
avenue and placed myself before the deserted house. Heavy blinds were

drawn before the upper windows. The street was still quite empty, and I
stepped close to the windows of the ground floor and listened and
listened; but I heard no sound. The house was as quiet as the grave. The
business of the day began, the passers-by became more numerous, and I
was obliged to go on. I will not weary you with the recital of how for
many days I crept about the house at that hour, but without discovering
anything of interest. None of my questionings could reveal anything to
me, and the beautiful picture of my vision began finally to pale and
fade away.
At last as I passed, late one evening, I saw that the door of the deserted
house was half open and the brown-clad old man was peeping out. I
stepped quickly to his side with a sudden idea. "Does not Councilor
Binder live in this house?" Thus I asked the old man, pushing him
before me as I entered the dimly lighted vestibule. The guardian of the
old house looked at me with his piercing eyes, and answered in gentle,
slow tones: "No, he does not live here, he never has lived here, he
never will live here, he does not live anywhere on this avenue. But
people say the ghosts walk about in this house. Yet I can assure you
that it is not true. It is a quiet, a pretty house, and to-morrow the
gracious Countess S. will move into it. Good night, dear gentleman."
With these words the old man maneuvered me out of the house and
locked the gate behind me. I heard his feet drag across the floor, I heard
his coughing and the rattling of his bunch of keys, and I heard him
descend some steps. Then all was silent. During the short time that I
had been in the house I had noticed that the corridor was hung with old
tapestries and furnished like a drawing-room with large, heavy chairs in
red damask.
And now, as if called into