The Inn in the Spessart

Many years ago, while yet the roads in the Spessart were in poor condition and little traveled, two young journeymen were making their way through this wooded region. The one might have been about eighteen years old, and was by trade a compass-maker; the other was a goldsmith, and, judging from his appearance, could not have been more than sixteen, and was most likely making his first journey out into the world.

Evening was coming on, and the shadows of the giant pines and beeches darkened the narrow road on which the two were walking. The compass-maker stepped bravely forward, whistling a tune, playing occasionally with Munter, his dog, and not seeming to feel much concern that the night was near, while the next inn for journeymen was still far ahead of them. But Felix, the goldsmith, began to look about him anxiously. When the wind rustled through the trees, it sounded to him as if there were steps behind him; when the bushes on either side of the road were stirred, he was sure he caught glimpses of lurking faces.

The young goldsmith was, moreover, neither superstitious nor lacking in courage. In Wuerzburg, where he had learned his trade, he passed among his fellows for a fearless youth, whose heart was in the right spot; but on this day his courage was at a singularly low ebb. He had been told so many things about the Spessart. A large band of robbers were reported as committing depredations there; many travellers had been robbed within a few weeks, and a horrible murder was spoken of as having occurred here not long before. Therefore he felt no little alarm, as they were but two in number and could not successfully resist armed robbers. How often he regretted that he had not stopped over-night at the edge of the forest, instead of agreeing to accompany the compass-maker to the next station!

“And if I am killed to-night, and lose all I have with me, you will be to blame, compass-maker, for you persuaded me to come into this terrible forest,” said he.

“Don’t be a coward,” retorted the other. “A real journeyman should never be afraid. And what is it you are afraid of? Do you think that the lordly robbers of the Spessart would do us the honor to attack and kill us? Why should they give themselves that trouble? To gain possession of the Sunday-coat in my knapsack, or the spare pennies given us by the people on our route? One would have to travel in a coach-and-four, dressed in gold and silks, before the robbers would think it worth their while to kill one.”

“Stop! Didn’t you hear somebody whistle in the woods?” exclaimed Felix, nervously.

“That was the wind whistling through the trees. Walk faster, and we shall soon be out of the wood.”

“Yes, it's all well enough for you to talk that way about not being killed,” continued the goldsmith; “they would simply ask you what you had, search you, and take away your Sunday-coat and your change. But they would kill me because I carry gold and jewelry with me.”

“Why should they kill you on that account? If four or five were to spring out of the bush there now with loaded rifles pointed at us, and politely inquire, ‘Gentlemen, what have you with you?’ or ‘If agreeable, we will help you carry it,’ or some such elegant mode of address, then you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself, but would open your knapsack and lay the yellow waist-coat, the blue coat, two shirts, and all your necklaces, bracelets, combs, and whatever you had besides, politely on the ground, and be thankful for the life they spared you.”

“You think so, do you?” responded Felix warmly. “You think I would give up the ornament I have here for my godmother, the dear lady countess? Sooner would I part with my life! Sooner would I be hacked into small pieces. Did she not take a mother's interest in me, and since my tenth year bind me out as apprentice? Has she not paid for my clothes and every thing? And now, when I am about to go to her, to carry her something of my own handiwork that she had ordered of the master;now, that I am able to give her this ornament as a sample of what I have learned; now you think I would give that up, and my yellow waistcoat as well, that she gave me? No, better death than to give to these base men the ornament intended for my godmother!”

“Don’t be a fool!” exclaimed the compass-maker. “If they were to kill you, the countess would still lose the ornament; so it would be much better for you to deliver it up and keep your life.”

Felix did not answer. Night had settled down, and by the uncertain gleam of the new moon he could not see more than five feet before him. He became more and more nervous, kept close by the side of his companion, and was uncertain whether he ought to approve of the arguments of his friend or not. Thus they continued on, side by side for another hour, when they saw a light in the distance. The young goldsmith was of opinion that they should not prematurely rejoice, as the light might come from a den of thieves; but the compass-maker informed him the robbers had their houses or caves under ground, and that this must be the inn that a man had told them of, as they entered the forest.

It was a long, low house, before which a wagon stood; and adjoining the house was a stable from which came the neighing of horses. The compass-maker beckoned his comrade to a window whose shutters were open; and by standing on their toes they were able to look into the room. In a chair before the stove slept a man whose clothes bespoke him a wagoner—very likely the owner of the cart before the door. On the other side of the stove sat a woman and a girl, spinning. Behind the table, close to the wall, sat a man with a glass of wine before him. His head was supported in his hands so that his face could not be seen. But the compass-maker judged from his clothes that he was a man of rank.

While they were peeping, a dog in the house began to bark; Munter, the compass-maker's dog, barked a reply; and a servant-girl appeared at the door and looked out at the strangers.

They were promised supper and a bed; so they entered, and laying their heavy bundles, sticks, and hats in the corner, sat down at the table with the gentleman. He looked up at their greeting, and they perceived him to be a handsome young man, who returned their greeting pleasantly.

“You are late on the road,” said he; “were you not afraid to travel through the Spessart on so dark a night? For my part, I would have stabled my horse in this tavern before I would have ridden an hour longer.”

“You are quite right in that, sir,” responded the compass-maker. “The hoof beats of a fine horse are music in the ears of these highwaymen, and lure them from a great distance; but when a couple of poor journeymen like us steal through the woods—people to whom the robbers would sooner think of making a present than of taking any thing from them—then, they do not lift a foot.”

“That is very likely,” chimed in the wagoner, who, awakened by the arrival of the journeymen, had taken a seat at the table. “They could not very well be attracted by a poor man's purse, but there have been instances of robbers killing poor people, simply out of thirst for blood, and of forcing others to join the band and serve as robbers.”

“Well, if such are the deeds of these people in the forest, then this house will not afford us very good protection,” observed the young goldsmith. “There are only four of us, or, counting the hostler, five; and if ten men were to attack us here, what could we do against them? And more than this,” he added, in a low tone, “who can guarantee that the people of this inn are honest?”

“Nothing to fear there,” returned the wagoner. “I have known this tavern for more than ten years, and have never seen any thing wrong about it. The master of the house is seldom at home; they say he carries on a wine trade; but his wife is a quiet woman who would not harm any one. No, you do them a wrong, sir.”

“And yet,” interposed the young gentleman, “I should not like to brush aside so lightly what he said. Don’t you remember the reports about those people who suddenly disappeared in this forest and left no trace behind them? Several of them had previously announced their intention of passing the night at this inn; and as two or three weeks passed by without their being heard from, they were searched for, and inquiries made at this inn, when they were assured that the missing men had never been here. It looks suspicious, to say the least.”

“God knows,” cried the compass-maker, “we should do a much more sensible thing if we were to camp out under the next best tree we came to, than to remain within these four walls, where there is no chance of running away when they are once at the door, for the windows are grated.”

All grew very thoughtful over these speeches. It did not seem so very improbable, after all, that these tavern people in the forest, be it under compulsion or of their free accord, were in league with the robbers. The nighttime seemed particularly dangerous to them, for they had all heard many stories of travellers who had been attacked and murdered in their sleep; and even if their lives were not endangered, yet most of the guests of the inn were possessed of such moderate means that the robbery of even a part of their property would have: been a very serious loss to them. They looked dolefully into their glasses. The young gentleman wished himself on the back of his horse, trotting through a safe open valley. The compass-maker wished for twelve of his sturdy comrades, armed with clubs, for a body-guard. Felix, the goldsmith, was more anxious for the safety of the ornament designed for his benefactress, than for his own life. But the wagoner, who had been blowing clouds of smoke before him, said softly: “Gentlemen, at least they shall not surprise us asleep. I, for my part, will remain awake the whole night, if one other will keep watch with me.”

“I will”—“I too,” cried the three others.

“And I could not go to sleep,” added the young gentleman.

“Well, we had better contrive some means of keeping awake,” said the wagoner. “I think while we number just four people, we might play cards, that would keep us awake and while away the time.”

“I never play cards,” said the young gentleman, “therefore you would have to count me out.”

“Nor do I know any thing about cards,” added Felix.

“What can we do, then, if we don’t play cards,” asked the compass-maker. “Sing? That wouldn’t do, for it would only attract the attention of the robbers. Give one another riddles to guess? That would not last very long. How would it do if we were to tell stories? Humorous or pathetic, true or imaginative, they would keep us awake and pass away the time as well as cards.”

“I am agreed, if you will begin,” said the young gentleman, smiling.“You gentlemen of trades visit all countries, and have something to tell;for every town has its own legends and tales.”

“Yes, certainly, one hears a great deal,” replied the compass-maker.“But, on the other hand, gentlemen like you study diligently in books, where really wonderful things are written; therefore, you would know how to tell a wiser and more entertaining story than a plain journeyman, such as one of us, could pretend to—for unless I am much mistaken you are a student, a scholar.”

“A scholar, no,” laughed the young gentleman; “but certainly a student, and am now on my way home for the vacation. But what one reads in books does not answer for the purpose of a story nearly as well as what one hears. Therefore begin, if the other gentlemen are inclined to listen.”

“Still more than with cards,” responded the wagoner, “am I pleased when I hear a good story told. I often keep my team down to a miserably slow pace, that I may listen to one who walks near by, and has a fine story to tell; and I have taken many a person into my wagon, in bad weather, with the understanding that he should tell me a story; and one of my comrades I love very dearly, for the reason that he knows stories that last for seven hours and even longer.”

“That is also my case,” added the young goldsmith. “I love stories as I do my life; and my master in Wuerzburg had to forbid me books lest I should neglect my work. So tell us something fine, compass-maker; I know that you could tell stories from now until day-break before your stock gave out.”

The compass-maker complied by emptying his glass and beginning his story.

施佩萨特林中客栈

很多很多年以前，施佩萨特森林的道路还挺糟糕，也不像现在经常有车经过。一天，林子里来了两个年轻人。一个约莫十八岁光景，学的是铁匠手艺；另一个是金匠，看样子还不到十六岁，多半是初出茅庐第一次闯荡世界。

朦胧的暮色已经升起，巨人般高大的松树和榉树投下阴影，他俩走的小路变得幽暗了。铁匠伙计步伐矫健，边走边吹着口哨，还不时地和他的狗蒙特聊上几句，似乎对夜幕即将降临而客栈还离得很远满不在乎。与之相反，金匠伙计费里克斯不住地东瞅西望，胆战心惊的样子：夜风在林间沙沙作响，他觉得听见身后传来了脚步声；道旁的树丛摇来摆去，他觉得在它分开来的一刹那看见有一些面孔在树后窥视。

年轻的金匠平素既不迷信，也不胆小。在他学手艺的维尔茨堡，伙计们都认为他勇敢无畏是好样儿的，可今天却不知怎么的，心里总感觉特别畏惧。人家曾给他讲过许多发生在施佩萨特森林里的事情；据说一大帮强盗常在此出没，上个礼拜就有几批旅客遭到打劫，是的是的，不久前这里甚至还发生过多起骇人听闻的杀人血案啊。此时此地，他确实有些担心自己的性命；他们一行仅仅两个人，根本无法对付一伙武装匪徒。他一次次后悔不该跟着铁匠再赶这一站路，而应留在森林入口处过夜。

“我今晚要是被杀死了，丢了小命儿和我带在身边的一切，那就完全怪你，铁匠；是你好劝歹说，我才进了这可怕的林子嘛。”

“别跟个胆小鬼似的，”同伴回答，“一个真正的手艺人应该无所畏惧。你到底怕什么？你以为施佩萨特林中的强盗大爷会赏咱们脸，来袭击咱们，杀死咱们吗？他们干吗费这个劲呢？就为我背在背囊里的那件礼拜日穿的上衣？或者为那几个吃伙食的银毫子？不，必须是坐在四轮马车里，穿绣金绸缎的，他们才认为值得花力气将他杀死。”

“等等！你听见林里的呼啸声了吗？”费里克斯怯生生地问。

“那是风吹枝叶响，快走你的吧，已经不远啦。”

“嗯，死不死的你说得倒轻松，”金匠继续道，“他们会问你有什么，搜你的身，反正会拿走你的漂亮上衣和大钱、小钱；可我呢，却要被他们马上杀死，就因为我带着金子和首饰。”

“嗨，他们干吗因此就非得杀死你呢？就算现在树丛中蹿出来四五个好汉，用上了膛的盒子炮对着咱俩，很有礼貌地问：‘二位客官身上带着什么东西？’要不就是：‘放下行囊轻松轻松吧，让咱们帮二位背好吗？’以及诸如此类蛮中听的套话；这时候你大概也不是个傻瓜，也会解开你的背囊，把你的黄马甲、蓝上衣，以及两件衬衫和所有的领带、袖口和梳子什么什么的，乖乖儿地放在地上，并且感谢人家留给你性命，不是吗？”

“是吗，你的意思是，”费里克斯急忙应着，“你是说，我应该把那些替咱高贵的伯爵夫人帕特太太带的首饰也交出来？我宁可送命！宁可让他们砍成一块一块的！她不待我像母亲一样，不是从十岁起抚养我长大？不是她供我上学，给我买衣服和所有东西？现在好啦，我获准去看她，带上她在我师傅处定制然而却是我亲手做出来的活计。现在好啦，我可以用这美丽的首饰向她证明我的学习成绩，偏偏现在，竟要我把这一切都交出来，还包括她送给我的那件黄背心？不，我宁肯死，也绝不把咱帕特夫人的首饰交给那帮坏蛋！”

“别傻啦！”铁匠吼道，“他们要是杀了你，伯爵夫人仍旧得不到首饰。所以嘛，还是交出首饰留下小命儿更好。”

费里克斯没有回答。这时候，夜幕已经完全降临，在新月迷蒙的微光下，勉强能看清五步以内的东西。他越来越害怕，紧紧跟在同伴的身后，自己也不知道该不该同意同伴的那些说法和论证。他们又走了将近一小时，突然在远处看见了一点灯光。年轻的金匠却认为那可能是个强盗窝，过去不得；铁匠纠正他道，强盗的住房或者巢穴都在地底下，在进森林时人家告诉过他们有一家林中客栈，这必定就是了。

那是一幢狭长而低矮的房子，门前停着一辆大车，旁边的厩舍里听得见有马匹的嘶叫声。铁匠招手让他的伙伴走到一扇敞开护窗板的窗前。他们踮起脚尖，可以看清室内的全部情况。在火炉旁边的扶手椅里，一个男人在睡觉，看衣着像个马车夫，门前那辆大车可能就是他的。火炉的另一边坐着一个妇女和一个大姑娘，两人都在纺线。在靠墙的桌子后面还坐着一个人，面前搁着一杯酒，手撑着脑袋，模样看不清楚。尽管如此，铁匠认为凭衣着可以断定，这是位绅士。

他俩还站在那里窥视，屋里已有条狗吠叫起来。铁匠的狗蒙特立即响应，门口便出现一名使女，望着两个不速之客。

她答应提供夜宵和床铺，他们于是走进屋子，把行囊、游杖和帽子放到屋角里，坐到了桌旁的绅士边上。听见他们的问候，绅士抬起头来，是个文雅的年轻人，对他们的问候挺友善地表示了感谢。

“二位这么晚还赶路，”他说，“难道在这黑沉沉的夜里穿过施佩萨特森林，心里不害怕吗？我却宁可把马拴在这家酒馆里，也不愿再骑上哪怕一小时。”

“您做对啦，先生！”铁匠回答，“在那帮强盗听来，骏马的铮铮蹄声就是悦耳动听的音乐，能诱使他们跑上一小时；可对咱们这样两个徒步穿过森林的穷小子，两个甚至可能从他们那里讨施舍的人，他们恐怕连腿儿都不肯抬一抬啊！”

“这多半不错，”马车夫被进屋来的年轻人惊醒了，也走到桌旁，“一个穷光蛋他们是榨不出多少油水；不过也有些先例，他们干掉穷鬼只因为有杀人的爱好，要不就是想强迫他们入伙当喽啰来着。”

“喏，森林中的盗帮要真这德行，”年轻金匠插进来说，“眼下这幢房子也给不了咱们多少保护。咱们才四个人，加上店里的帮工不过五个；他们如果一时兴起，来上十个人，咱们怎么抵抗他们的袭击？而且还有，”他压低嗓音补充道，“谁给我们担保，这店家是些好人啊？”

“这可就扯远啦，”车夫回答，“我投这家客栈已有十多年，从未感到有什么不对劲儿的地方。老板本人难得在店里，说是在做酒生意；老板娘却是个安安静静的妇人，对谁都不怀恶意；不，这位兄弟冤枉了她，先生！”

“可是，”年轻的绅士接过话茬，“可是我却不愿说他的话绝对不对。想想有些人在这座森林里突然就踪影全无了的那些传说吧。其中几个事先说过将在这间客栈过夜，结果两三个礼拜以后却音信渺无，循着他们走过的路来这里打听，却回答根本没有见过；能说不可疑吗？”

“上帝哦，”铁匠失声叫道，“咱们要是聪明一点，就去附近的大树底下露宿，别留在这四堵墙壁中间，因为一当人家把住门口，咱们就休想逃出去；窗户全装了铁条。”

如此你一言我一语，大伙儿都变得忧心忡忡。看样子，这林中客栈和强盗们暗中勾结，要么被迫，要么自愿，也不是完全不可能。这一夜对他们而言也因此变得十分危险了；要知道他们听过不少传说，讲什么旅客在睡梦中遭到袭击和杀害。人家即使不要林中客栈这几位住客的命吧，他们中有的却本来就囊中羞涩，抢走他们的部分财物也叫人挺心痛啊。他们一个个阴沉着脸，没精打采地瞪着面前的酒杯。年轻绅士暗暗希望能骑上自己的快马，驰过宽敞安全的山谷；铁匠则幻想有十二个伙计手提棍棒当自己的保镖；金匠费里克斯生怕丢了带给他那位女恩人的首饰，赛过担心自己的性命；马车夫呢，沉思着从自己的烟袋里吹出一圈一圈烟雾，半晌才低声说：

“先生们，至少别在睡梦中让人家袭击咱们。我自己哪怕只有一个人陪着，就愿意通宵熬夜。”

“我也愿意！”“我也是！”其余三人异口同声。

“我呢，反正也睡不着。”年轻绅士补充了一句。

“喏，咱们干点什么提提精神吧，”马车夫说，“我想，咱们正好四个人，可以打打牌；打牌既提神也消磨时间。”

“我从来不打牌，”年轻绅士回答，“无法奉陪。”

“我更是连牌都不认识。”费里克斯更进一步。

“要是不打牌，咱们又干什么好呢，”铁匠问，“唱歌吗？这可不成，反倒会把强盗们逗引来。相互出谜语猜吗？这也坚持不久。你们有什么主意？咱们轮流讲故事怎么样？不管是逗笑的还是严肃的，不管是真实的还是编造的，只要能提神，能消磨时间，就跟打牌一样带劲儿。”

“我没意见，如果你们现在就开始，”年轻绅士笑了笑，说，“你们做手艺的先生走南闯北，有的好讲；每一座城市可不都有自己的故事和传说吗。”

“不错，不错，是听到不少，”铁匠回答，“可像您这样的少爷勤奋读书，书里写着许许多多奇妙的事情，比起咱们这些普普通通的手艺人来，你能讲的就更有教益，更加动听喽。我要么瞎了眼，要么您是位大学生，是位学问家？”

“学问家说不上，”年轻绅士微微一笑，说，“倒是个大学生，正要回家过暑假；至于我们书里那些东西，不如你们这里那里听来的适合当故事讲。所以你只管开始吧，要是这两位没意见。”

“对我来说，听人讲个有趣的故事比打牌有意义得多，”马车夫回答，“经常地，我宁肯在路上慢慢摇晃，只要旁边有谁给讲一个好听的故事。我还在坏天气里白搭过不少人，唯一的条件就是他得讲点什么。我有个同行伙计，我想就因为这小子知道的故事花上一天一夜也讲不完，所以成了我的好朋友。”

“我也是一样，”年轻金匠接着说，“我爱听故事得要命。我在维尔茨堡的师傅因此严厉禁止我买书，担心我净知道读故事，干活儿马马虎虎。就讲点好听的吧，铁匠老哥，我知道你的故事从现在讲到天亮也讲不完。”

小铁匠呷了一口酒，打起精神，随即开始讲——