Self-Doomed. A Novel

"Yes, Master Fink, with the Devil. Doesn't Gideon Wolf sleep in the next room to mine, and isn't there a hole in the wall behind the curtains of my bed, into which I have stuffed a piece of soft rag, and tied it with a string to my pillow, so that it can't be taken out on the other side without disturbing me? Well, then. The first time I saw anything of Gideon Wolf's unholy work was six months ago, when, waking up in the middle of the night, I heard him talking to Some One in his room. My room was dark-I have nothing on my conscience, and can sleep without a light-but in his the candle was burning, as I saw when I quietly took the rag out of the hole and peeped through. There was no harm in my doing it-I am old enough to be his grandmother. I knew that, lawfully, there should be only you, me, and Gideon in the house. You were asleep down-stairs. Who could it be, then, that Gideon Wolf was talking to? It was my duty to see, and I am thankful that I am not a coward. Gideon was sitting in his shirt-sleeves at his little table; his back was towards me, and, as I have told you, there was a candle alight. He was shuffling and dealing out a pack of cards, talking all the time in a voice you never heard, Master Fink, all the years he has been with you. It was not a natural voice; the bad passions expressed in it made me shudder. He dealt cards to himself and to Whoever it was that sat opposite to him. I did not see the Being he was playing with, but it could be nobody but Satan, who has the power of making himself invisible to any person he pleases-and he didn't choose to show himself to me. But Gideon saw him clearly enough, for he spoke to the Fiend, and shook his fist at him, and swore at him, and when he was winning, grinned in his face-a diabolical grin, such as I never saw on the face of a proper man. Now and then I thought I heard a faint, wicked laugh from the Fiend, but I could not make sure of it. Gideon kept an account of something-of his winnings and losings, I suppose-on pieces of paper, upon which he wrote figures at the end of every game. 'That makes five hundred,' Gideon said; 'that makes a thousand; that makes fifteen hundred; that makes two thousand. Where am I to get the money from? How am I to pay you?' I knew how he would have to pay; it was his soul that was being gambled away. It was when Gideon was speaking in that way that I thought I heard the laughing of the Fiend. This went on for nearly an hour, I should say, and then Gideon Wolf, dashing the pack of cards against the wall, rose from the table with a face as white as my table-cloths. Something seemed to vanish out of the room, and Gideon, after muttering to himself for a minute or two, burned all the little pieces of paper at the candle, and gathering the ashes put them in the stove. Having done this with great care, he collected the pack of cards, blew out the candle, and went to bed. The next morning when I went to his room I looked into his stove, and there I saw the burned ashes of the pieces of paper, and I knew I had not been dreaming."

"But, Anna," I said, "why have you not told me this before?"

"Because," she replied, "you make a scoff of sacred things-for which I am afraid you will be punished unless I pray you off; and I try hard to-yes, Master Fink, I pray for you every day of my life."

"You do me a great wrong," I said; "never in my life have I scoffed at sacred things."

"You don't believe in the Devil," she said, shaking her head dolefully.

"Not in the way you do, Anna. But it would be foolish for us to discuss religious matters. When you find me doing an evil action, then will be the time to pray for me. Did you ever see Gideon play cards again in that way?"

"A dozen times at least. Sometimes he wins, sometimes he loses. When he wins there is an unholy light in his eyes; when he loses he curses and swears and walks up and down the room, clinching his fists and waving them in the air. But if I had not seen what I have seen it would not alter my opinion of him. If he were an honest man-which he is not and a handsome man-which he is not and if he didn't play cards with the Devil-even then he is no fit lover for an innocent girl like Katrine Loebeg. And so I shall tell her, whether she likes it or not."

"Do so," I said, "and I will also speak to her."

"It is your duty, Master Fink. You knew her father, and respected him. If he were alive this day he would take that comrade of the Evil One by the neck between his finger and thumb and send him spinning into the gutter. If I were a man I'd do it myself. You seem to know very little of this Gideon Wolf of yours. I'll tell you something else concerning him. Who do you think he goes to see every Friday night, as regularly as clock-work?"

"I cannot guess."

"Pretzel the miser, who lives in the Temple-Pretzel, your enemy with the evil eye, who hasn't a friend in the world but Gideon Wolf-Pretzel, that the little children run away from when he shows his ugly face, and that the very dogs in the streets snarl and bark at! Now I've given you a good stomach full, Master Fink, and I wish you joy of your apprentice."

Anna was very unjust to me, but I ascribed it to her excited feelings. She made amends to me that very night, by placing before me for supper the goose she had bought for the next day's dinner. Ah, if women only knew the effect of such a thing upon a man's spirits! The very smell was enough to dispel anger and vexation. If a young girl were to come to me for counsel before she was married, if she were to ask me how she could chain her husband to her, how she could make him love her all the days of his life, I should say to her, "Look after his stomach, my child. Make him nice stews and savory dishes. When he cuts into the beef with the knife you have sharpened for him, let him behold the gravy running out of it. It softens the heart. And when you give him a roast goose, be sure that you give him plenty of stuffing with it." But no one could roast a goose like old Anna. No one, no one! Upon her tombstone ought to have been cut the words, "Here lieth a woman who could roast a goose to perfection, and who made the finest stews in the world."

When Anna placed that goose before me I gave utterance to a long, deep sigh of satisfaction, and I looked at her with a smile in my eyes. Her face lighted up in an instant. You should have seen it; it was like the sun breaking out. Did I not know in my inmost soul that she had been suffering because she believed she had done me an injustice? And in an instant everything was cleared up through the savory steam-more eloquent than the finest words that rose from the hot roast goose.

But there is never joy without sorrow. Gideon Wolf came into the room just as I put the knife into the breast.

"A hot roast goose!" he cried, gleefully. "If I like one thing better than another it is a hot roast goose for supper."

And he drew his chair close to the table, and held out a plate.

I could not take my knife out of the breast, the fattest slices of which I intended for my own eating, and help him to the long joint of the leg. Sadly I laid the fat slices on his plate, and when he said, "Don't trouble about the stuffing, Master Fink I'll help myself;" I submitted without a word, but in silent wrath. He devoured the best part of that goose, and nearly the whole of the stuffing. What could be expected of such a gourmand? As for Anna, she went out of the room in such a state of vexation that I am sure she could not have got a wink of sleep that night.

CHAPTER VI

PRETZEL THE MISER, WITH THE EVIL EYE

Of Anna's revelations, those which troubled me most were that relating to Pretzel the miser, and that relating to Katrine Loebeg. Of the intimacy which she had discovered, by means of a hole in the wall, between the Devil and Gideon Wolf I soon disposed. The world abounds in men who feed on delusions, and who find their greatest comfort therein. The majority of these men are beings who hunger after what is not within their reach, or who are envious of their neighbors. Gideon Wolf, hungering for wealth, and seeing no practical road to its swift attainment, flew to his imagination for the realization of his desire. He played cards in the solitude of his room with a Shadow, and won of it or lost to it great sums of money. There is a certain distinction, and also a certain comfort, in this delusion. Imaginary millions are involved in the turning up of a card, and the high play affords a triumph when a fortune is won, and a scarcely less enjoyable despair when it is lost. So much for Gideon Wolf's folly in playing cards with the Devil. That I did not believe in the personality of the Evil One was, in my old Anna's eyes, a terrible sin. She herself had the firmest belief that he walked the earth, a solid body, horns, hoofs, tail, and all complete. No, the Devil did not trouble me, but Pretzel the miser did.

This Pretzel was, in my opinion, the most abominable man in the town. He was a miser, and a moneylender at exorbitant interest. One hundred, two hundred, even four hundred per cent., did not satisfy him; he was never satisfied till he had extracted the last copper from the unhappy people who went to him for assistance. A little, thin, dried-up old man, with a joyless laugh. Out of his whole body I do not believe you could have squeezed a teaspoonful of blood. The number of people he had ruined! I could not count them. And all done under the shadow of the law. Yes, he was always, always right, and his victims always, always wrong. The judges and the lawyers all declared so-not because they wished to favor him, but because they were compelled to go by the letter of the law. "I want nothing more than my rights," he would say; "look at my bond." And there was never a flaw in it, never the smallest crevice that a poor wretch could creep through to escape from his clutches. All, gracious heaven! A heartless money-lender's bond. That it is necessary he should be upheld in it-that he should be allowed to prey, to blast, to ruin, to destroy! Is there no such thing as moral justice in this strangely constituted world? Public opinion. Yes, yes. But what do men like Pretzel care for public opinion? Could they not, if they pleased, buy up all the corn and the oil? If I had a son, never, never should be become a money-lender! I would sooner see him dead at my feet. "Look at my bond," says the money-lender; "ask my debtor if he denies his signature." "Take what you demand," says the judge. And helpless women and children stand by, wringing their hands and weeping tears of blood. The money-lender sees not, hears not. He takes what he demands, and when the Sabbath comes he kneels in church, and prays and humbles himself. It is a cheap way of buying himself off. Though if the truth were known, and if the workings of a man's soul could be brought into view, the heart and the mind of the ruthless schemer would be seen to be full of triumphant figures all the time his lips are moving with meaningless prayer.

Not that Pretzel ever went to church, or ever prayed, or ever knelt to any God but Money. No, no: there was no mock humility about Pretzel. He gloried in his deeds, and when ruin overtook those unfortunate ones who had been drawn into his web, he would heap reproaches upon them for their unworldliness and their want of prudence. It was they who were the wrongers, not he. "See what you have done," he would say; "see what you have brought upon your poor families!" Can a more fiendish taunt be imagined?

Of every person, with one single exception, with whom Pretzel had dealings he got the advantage. That exception was myself. No one but I, in all the town, who had borrowed money of him, could say, "I have gained something from dealing with Pretzel." To hear that, and to be compelled to acknowledge that it was true, cut him to the soul. You may guess how he hated me.

It happened in this way: Old Pretzel did not always wait for customers; if they did not come to him he went to them; he made business, I have heard him say. It was not always, "I beg, I implore of you, good Pretzel, to lend me a hundred forms; it will save me from ruin. For the sake of my wife and children do this good deed!" It was he who sometimes said, "Why don't you borrow two hundred, three hundred, five hundred florins of me? It will help you on. You can buy fresh stock with it, and turn it twice over before I come to you for payment. You will grow rich, instead of being poor all your life. I would not do this for every one, but I take an interest in you. Think of it, for the sake of your wife and children. Think well of it; the money is ready for you, and it won't run away." He would cast his eyes upon a tradesman who was getting along comfortably, and when he had calculated how much he was worth, he would go to him and tempt him to borrow, putting all sorts of baits in his way. And he did it so cleverly that the victim could scarcely ever remember how the whole thing was done, and how it happened that ruin suddenly fell upon him like a clap of thunder.

Pretzel came to me-it was in the first year of Gideon Wolf's apprenticeship; that is how those two became acquainted, by Pretzel visiting my shop. Pretzel's words, when they were uttered in the presence of Gideon Wolf, fell upon a rich soil. Well, he came to me many times, admired my workmanship, admired my stock-I believe he knew to the smallest coin what it would fetch in the market-and would say,

"You ought to have a fine plate-glass window to your shop. It would draw custom. A fine plate-glass front, with glass shelves in it, and your beautiful watches and chains all set out in blue velvet eases. How they would glitter! It would make people's mouths water. Everybody in the town would come to look, and a great many would be tempted to buy. You would do three times the trade you are doing now. You would be able to buy the newest-fashioned goods; you would grow rich."

"But it would cost a great deal of money," I would answer, "to make these alterations."

"What does it matter," he would urge, "how much it would cost if you got it back five times, ten times over?"

"But I haven't any spare cash, Pretzel; all that I am worth lies in my stock. True, I do not owe anything; what I have is all my own."

"Really, Master Fink, you don't owe anybody anything-that is an absolute fact, eh?"

"It is an absolute fact, Pretzel."

Then he would laugh slyly, and say, "An honorable, straightforward man like you could easily borrow what he wants. Ah, how people would stare! They would clap their hands, and say, 'What a wonderful man Master Fink is-what a wonderful, wonderful man!' You would be looked up to, much more than you are now, though you stand well. Yes, Master Fink, such is the power of money that you would be made a magistrate."

I thought, "Ah, if I were a magistrate, and you were brought before me, I would make short work of you, Miser Pretzel." And I wondered to myself why he was so anxious to lend money to me who had always spoken of him as a villainous usurer.

Day after day, week after week, he continued to pester me and try to inflame my ambition with his cunning speech, until it entered my head to set a trap for him. I told him, much as I should like to take his advice, that it was not in my power, because, in an unlucky moment of my life, I had vowed never to borrow money at interest. He opened his eyes very wide at this I don't suppose he ever had such a thing said to him before. He tried to reason me out of my vow, but I said it was of no use, and that nothing should ever tempt me to break it.

"Have you ever known me to forfeit my word?" I asked. "Is it likely, then, that I should break a solemn oath? I admit that it was foolish, that I am bound by it."

He did not annoy me for a little while after this, but more than once I saw him looking in at my shop-window, counting with his eyes the watches and chains and trinkets therein displayed. Ha, ha! He was going to walk straight into the trap. All this time I did not hold my tongue concerning him I spoke of him freely to the neighbors as an abominable usurer, hoping that what I said would reach his ears. Whether it did or not he exhibited no ill-will towards me, but nodded and smiled in a friendly way when we met. And one morning he entered my shop, and said,

"Master Fink, I will do you a service against your will. I will compel you to become a rich man you shall make great profits you shall rise in the town we want men like you to take the direction of affairs. You shall borrow of me the money needed for alterations and improvements, and I will charge you no interest-only, of course, you shall sign a bond to pay me on a stated day. That is but fair."

"Indeed, indeed, I do not care for it," I said.

"Am I not already sufficiently well off?"

"No, you are not," he persisted. "I will do you this kindness, so that people shall say, 'Pretzel is a good fellow; we have been mistaken in him.' Oh, I know what some of them think of me!"

"The devil is never so black as he is painted," I said, saucily.

"Ah, Master Fink," he said, without a trace of displeasure in his face, "you will have your joke, you will have your joke."

"Yes," said I to myself, "and I intend to enjoy it, and profit by it."

But although he urged and urged, I would not immediately do as he wished; I drew him on, and within a week, so eager was he to have his fingers in my pie, he had lent me three thousand florins for two years, without interest. He plumped the money on my counter, and I signed a bond, undertaking to repay it in hard coin on a certain date, and giving Pretzel the power, in case it were not refunded to the minute, to seize my goods and furniture, and sell me up stock and block. In the bond Pretzel had inserted words to the effect that the money was to be handed to him at exactly twelve o'clock in the morning by his own watch.

"Mind," he said, with a little chuckling laugh, "if you are a minute later than twelve o'clock by my watch I shall take possession of all your goods."

"Yes, yes," I said, "I understand. At twelve o'clock on that day you shall receive the money you are kind enough to lend me without interest."

His evil eye never had a slyer, wickeder look in it than when he shook hands with me and wished me good-luck and good-day, leaving his three thousand florins behind him. With his money tied up in a bag I went immediately to the State Bank and deposited it upon interest, and there I let it remain, without Pretzel or any person outside the bank knowing anything of the transaction. From time to time Pretzel looked in, and asked when my plate glass and my new-fashioned goods were to arrive. I put off his questions with an awkwardness which I intended he should notice. He did notice it, and after some time had passed he said,

"The new watches and chains are a long time coming; I am quite anxious to see them. Remember, I lent you the money to purchase them with."

"No," I said, and I pretended to be much confused, "you did not lend me the money to purchase them with; you simply lent me the money. That is stated in the bond, and it is not stated in what manner I should employ what I borrowed of you. A good speculation offered itself to me, and I have invested in it."

"Master Fink," he said, severely, "it was understood, if the money was spent, that it should be spent in purchasing new stock, so that you might increase your trade."

"I cannot deny it," I answered, "but it was only understood; it was not written down."

"You stand by the bond?"

"To the letter."

"That is well, as far as it goes; but a speculation carries risk with it. How if yours should turn out bad?"

I made a gesture of despair, clasped my hand to my forehead, and said, dolefully,

"I should be ruined! Yet, no; you are my friend; you would never take my goods from me; you would give me time to repair my losses."

His eyes travelled round my shop; there was a malicious expression in his weazen face.

"The devil is never so black as he is painted, is he, Master Fink?" be said, with a wicked grin.

Thereafter he would ask me, whenever he saw me, "And how is the famous speculation getting on, eh?"

"Don't ask me, don't ask me," I would sigh. "How fortunate for me that I am in the hands of a man like yourself-in the hands of a friend! Never have I beheld your money since the day on which you lent it to me."

Which was as true as anything I ever spoke in my life. His money did not trouble me; it was safe enough in the State Bank.

So the first year passed, and six months of the second, Pretzel never ceasing to question me about my famous speculation, and I never ceasing to express my despair. During the last few months he was in the habit of coming to me with his watch in his hand, and saying,

"Master Fink, I wish you to regulate my watch."

And I regulated it for him, on an average, once in every week.

On the day before the money was to be repaid I went to the bank, and drew it out in hard coin, and received, also, the interest-with which interest I purchased, as I had previously determined, the handsome lever-watch I have ever since worn, and the handsome gold chain you see round my neck.

The morning arrived. I had a friend to breakfast with me, who was to witness what was about to take place. Suspecting some trick, and wishing to be prepared for it, I had arranged that this friend was to come to me at seven o'clock in the morning, and to stay till the affair was over. I expected that Pretzel would present himself at about a quarter to twelve, but to my astonishment he entered my shop as half a dozen clocks on my shelves chimed a quarter to ten. He was accompanied by a lawyer.

"Good-morning, Master Fink," he said.

"Good-morning," I said.

Heavens! How cunning and sharp and sly and malicious was his look!

"You know what to-day is?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied, "it is Wednesday."

"Right; it is Wednesday; and the date, Master Fink, the date is that on which you are to repay me my three thousand florins."

"Ah," I cried, "it is true, it is true! How could it have escaped me?"

"That is not my affair. This is my lawyer, Master Fink!"

I bowed to the lawyer, and said to Pretzel,

"You will renew the bond, will you not? You will let the money remain with me for another two years, at the same rate of interest?"

"What!" be cried; "are you mad, or do you think I am?"

"No," I said, in a rueful tone, "I am not mad, but you see the state I am in. Unfortunate-unfortunate that I am!"

"That is always the way," he said, appealing to his lawyer-" that is always the way." Then to me, "Is not my demand just?"

"Quite just; but you will continue to be my friend-you will not ruin me!"

He laughed in my face. "Master Fink," he said, "attend, to me. Years before I lent you this money you were in the habit of reviling me and speaking against me. You libelled and scandalized me; you held me up in the blackest light. You were never tired of calling me a villainous old usurer."

"It is true," I groaned, "but I have lived to see my error. You are upright, you are just, you are liberal."

"I lent you my money," be continued, "without interest, to prove to you and to everybody that when you spoke in that way against me you were speaking lies, and that really I am a benevolent man." There was something absolutely diabolical in his voice as he uttered these words. "And even then, when I gave you the money, to my own loss-for how much more profitably it could have been employed! – you threw into my teeth the taunt that the devil is never so black as he is painted." (I groaned again.) "If you have been improvident that is your affair. If you have squandered my money and lost it recklessly, you will be spoken of as a knave, and you will forfeit the honorable name you have been so proud of." (I gave two long distinct groans.) "I have come now for my money, and if you are not prepared to pay me three thousand honest florins, I will strip your house and your shop of every article they contain."

"No, no, Pretzel," I moaned, "you do not mean it!"

"I do mean it! You shall not have a bed to lie upon, nor a spoon to eat with. You will be a beggar, a rogue, a cheat! Ask this lawyer whether I am standing on my rights."

I looked at the lawyer.

"By the bond you have signed," he said, "which Pretzel holds in his hands, if you do not pay him three thousand florins he is entitled to carry away everything movable within these walls."

"And I will do it!" screamed Pretzel, working himself up into a state of frantic exultation; "I will do it! I can see that you have not got the money-that you are not prepared to pay it-that you have squandered it like a thief! You shall suffer for calling me a villainous old usurer; you shall suffer for saying that I am not so black as I am painted! Do you see those vans at the door? They are mine-they are mine-and I'll strip the place to the bare walls, you honest, honorable man!"