喀尔巴阡古堡　牛博士(中文导读英文版)(txt+pdf+epub+mobi电子书下载)

作者：王勋,纪飞,（法）儒勒·凡尔纳

出版社：清华大学出版社

格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT

喀尔巴阡古堡　牛博士(中文导读英文版)试读：

前言

儒勒凡尔纳（Jules Verne，1828-1905），法国著名作家，现代科幻小说的奠基人，被誉为“科幻小说之父”。一生共创作了六十多部充满神奇与浪漫的科幻小说，其代表作有《气球上的五星期》、《地心游记》、《从地球到月球》、《海底两万里》、《八十天周游世界》、《格兰特船长的儿女》和《神秘岛》等，这些小说被译成世界上几十种文字，并多次被搬上银幕，在世界上广为流传。

儒勒凡尔纳于1828年2月8日出生在法国西部海港南特。自幼热爱海洋，向往远航探险。他的父亲是一位事业成功的律师，并希望凡尔纳日后也以律师作为职业。18岁时，他遵从父训到首都巴黎攻读法律。可是他对法律毫无兴趣，却爱上了文学和戏剧。1863年，他发表了第一部科幻小说《气球上的五星期》，之后又出版了使他获得巨大声誉的科幻三部曲：《格兰特船长的儿女》、《海底两万里》和《神秘岛》。凡尔纳的科幻小说是真实性与大胆幻想的结合：奇幻的故事情节、鲜明的人物形象、丰富而奇妙的想象、浓郁的浪漫主义风格和生活情趣，使之产生了巨大的艺术魅力，赢得了全球各种肤色人们，特别是青少年读者的喜爱。他的作品中所表现的自然科学方面的许多预言和假设，在他去世之后得以印证和实现，至今仍然启发人们的想象力和创造力。

总的说来，凡尔纳的小说有两大特点。第一，他的作品是丰富的幻想和科学知识的结合。虽然凡尔纳笔下的幻想极为奇特、大胆，但其中有着坚实的科学基础，这些作品既是科学精神的幻想曲，也是富有幻想色彩的科学预言，他的许多科幻猜想最后变成了现实。例如，他不仅在小说《从地球到月球》中用大炮将探月飞行器送上太空，甚至还将发射场安排在了美国佛罗里达州，这正是“阿波罗登月计划”的发射场，他在小说《海底两万里》中虚构了“鹦鹉螺号”潜水艇，在该小说出版10年后，第一艘真正的潜水艇才下水；在《征服者罗比尔》中有一个类似直升飞机的飞行器，数十年后，人类才将这一设想变成了现实。此外，他的小说中还出现了电视、霓虹灯、导弹、坦克和太空飞船等科学技术应用概念，而这些后来都变成了现实。第二，他的作品中的主人公是一些鲜明、生动而富有进取心和正义感的人物，他们或是地理发现者、探险家、科学家、发明家，他们具有超人的智慧、坚强的毅力和执着不懈的精神；或是反对民族歧视、民族压迫的战士，反对社会不公的抗争者，追求自由的旅行家，在他们身上具有反压迫、反强权、反传统的战斗精神，他们热爱自由、热爱平等，维护人的尊严。凡尔纳所塑造的这些人物形象，他们远大的理想、坚强的性格、优秀的品质和高尚的情操已赢得了亿万读者的喜爱和尊敬，并一直成为人们向往的偶像和学习的榜样。

1900年，儒勒凡尔纳的第一部中译本小说《八十天周游世界》（当时的中文译名是《八十日环游记》）被介绍给中国的读者，直至新中国成立之前，陆续又有梁启超、鲁迅等文化名人将凡尔纳的作品翻译出版。20世纪50年代后期，凡尔纳的科幻小说又开始为国内翻译界和出版界所关注，并在新中国读者面前重新显示了科幻小说旺盛的生命力。20世纪80年代，凡尔纳的作品再次受到读者的青睐，国内许多出版社相继翻译出版了凡尔纳的科幻小说，一时形成了“凡尔纳热”。

目前，国内已出版的凡尔纳小说的形式主要有两种：一种是中文翻译版，另一种是中英文对照版。而其中的中英文对照读本比较受读者的欢迎，这主要是得益于中国人热衷于学习英文的大环境。从英文学习的角度来看，直接使用纯英文的学习资料更有利于英语学习。考虑到对英文内容背景的了解有助于英文阅读，使用中文导读应该是一种比较好的方式，也可以说是该类型书的第三种版本形式。采用中文导读而非中英文对照的方式进行编排，这样有利于国内读者摆脱对英文阅读依赖中文注释的习惯。基于以上原因，我们决定编译凡尔纳系列科幻小说中的经典，其中包括《气球上的五星期》、《地心游记》、《从地球到月球》、《环游月球》、《海底两万里》、《八十天周游世界》、《格兰特船长的儿女》、《神秘岛》、《沙皇的信使》、《喀尔巴阡古堡》、《无名之家》、《征服者罗比尔》、《大臣号幸存者》、《亚马逊漂流记》、《太阳系历险记》、《两年假期》和《测量子午线》等，并采用中文导读英文版的形式出版。在中文导读中，我们尽力使其贴近原作的精髓，也尽可能保留原作的风格。我们希望能够编出为当代中国读者所喜爱的经典读本。读者在阅读英文故事之前，可以先阅读中文导读内容，这样有利于了解故事背景，从而加快阅读速度。我们相信，这些经典著作的引进对加强当代中国读者，特别是青少年读者的科学素养和人文修养是非常有帮助的。

本书主要内容由王勋、纪飞编译。参加本书故事素材搜集整理及编译工作的还有郑佳、刘乃亚、赵雪、左新杲、黄福成、冯洁、徐鑫、马启龙、王业伟、王旭敏、陈楠、王多多、邵舒丽、周丽萍、王晓旭、李永振、孟宪行、熊红华、胡国平、熊建国、徐平国、王小红等。限于我们的文学素养和英语水平，书中难免不当之处，衷心希望读者朋友批评指正。上篇　喀尔巴阡古堡第一章导读

十九世纪末，人们对神怪的传说已不感兴趣了，但在特西兰瓦尼亚地区，人们还十分相信各种迷信传说。

这一天是五月二十九日，一群羊个累底埃扎脱山下的草地上吃草，牧羊人是威思特村的夫立可。他住在村口肮脏、潮湿的破房子里。

羊在安静地吃着草，牧羊人叨着个大烟斗躺在地上。他看上去大约六十五岁、瘦高个、胖乎乎的脸上长些胡子，戴一顶烂草帽。

下午四点了，太阳从西边的山口照过来，夫立可手搭凉棚四下张望。他看到屹立在奥尔加勒高地，距孚尔康山口不远山丘上的古堡，说道：“古堡，你的山毛榉只剩下三个枝丫，也只能再活三年了。”

当地的人们认为牧羊人都有超自然的本领，相信他们精通巫术，可以赐福于人畜，也可以把灾难降临到人畜的身上。人们遇到牧羊人时，会脱帽向他致意，并遵称他为“巴斯特”。人们把夫立可就看作是能呼唤鬼神的巫师。

夫立可任凭人们议论，这样更有利于他卖春药和解药。他不相信自己那些骗人的把戏，但对迷信的传说还是深信不疑的。

他吹响木角号，两只牧羊犬赶着一百多只羊走上了回家的小路，这群羊是威思特村的法官兼村长科尔兹的。法官雇牧羊人的原因是因为他是位剪羊毛的高手，又能治疗羊的一些疾病。

羊群走到河边喝水，过来一个波兰籍犹太小贩，向牧羊人打着招呼。他身上挂着望远镜、温度计、气压表、小钟表等各种小商品。

夫立可认为：小贩卖的气压表说能测出天气的阴晴，而自己看看云彩就知道明天会不会下雨。太阳在天空的位置就是自己的钟表，温度计对自己就更没有用处了，小贩的东西自己什么也不需要。

后来夫立可看到小贩身上挂着一根管子，问是干什么用的。当听说是望远镜时，认为自己的视力很好，可以看到远处山口的树木。

小贩告诉他，眼睛再好也比不过望远镜，让他把眼睛对着望远镜试试。

当夫立可确定看一下不要钱时，便把眼睛对准了望远镜，他清楚地看到了背着枪的护林员尼克·戴克刚巡逻回来，穿着红裙子的米柳达去接他。

小贩告诉他，还能看更远的。当夫立可又确定还是不要钱时，就又朝远处看去，他看到了教堂的钟楼和残缺的十字架，看到了远处山顶上的森林，最后看到了远处的古堡，看到古堡往出冒着雾或其他什么东西，因为城堡的烟囱几百年来从来没有冒过烟。

夫立可用袖子擦了擦望远镜的镜头，看到确确实实有一股烟柱飘向天空，他惊呆了，问小贩望远镜多少钱。小贩告诉他“一个半弗洛林”，心想如果他讨价就降到一个弗洛林。可夫立可并没有还价，给了他一个半弗洛林。说是给他的主人科尔兹法官买的，到时要他两个弗洛林。说完就吹着口哨赶着羊回威思特村去了，小贩后悔自己开始没要两个弗洛林。his Story is not fantastic；it is simply romantic and nobody wouldthink of classing it as legendary.T

Moreover, nobody would invent legends at the close of this practical and positive nineteenth century；'not even in Transylvania, where the Carpathian scenery lends itself so naturally to all sorts of supernatural imaginings. But it is well to note that Transylvania is still much attached to the superstitions of the early ages.

On May 29th a shepherd was watching over his flock on the edge of a green plateau at the foot of Retyezat, which dominates a fertile valley, thickly wooded with straight-stemmed trees, and enriched with cultivation. This elevated plateau, open and unsheltered, is swept during the winter, as though by the barber's razor, by the galernes, the north-west winds.It is said in the country that they shave it-and a very close shave it sometimes is.

Frik, Frik of Werst village-such was the name of this rustic shepherd-was as roughly clothed as his sheep, but quite welt enough for the sordid hole built at the entrance of the village, where his sheep and pigs lived in a state of revolting filth，-the only word, borrowed from the old language, fit to describe the lousy sheepfolds of the land.

The mmanum pecus were browsing, then, under the care of the said Frik, magllor ipse. Stretched on a hillock carpeted with grass, he slept with one eye Open, his pipe in his mouth；and now and then he whistled to his dogs when some sheep strayed away from the pasture, or gave a powerful blast on his horn which awoke the multitudinous echoes of the mountain.

It was four in the afternoon. The sun was beginning to sink.A few summits, their bages bathed in the floating mist, were standing out clear in the east.Towards the, sourh-west two breaks in the mountain chain were making way for a slanting Column of rays, like a luminous jet passing through a half-open door.

This mountain system belongs to the wildest part of Transylvania, known as Klausenburg, or Kolosvar. Sach was its poiitical constitution that it remained the common abode of the vari ous races which elbow each other within it but never mingle-Wallachians or Roumanians, Hangariaas, Tziganes（Gypsies），Szeklers of Moldavian origin, as wen as the Saxons, whom time and circumstances will end by Magyarizing to the advantage of Transylvanian unity.

To which of these types did the shepherd Frik belong？Was he a degenerate descendant of the ancient Dacians？It would not have been easy to say, seeing his tangled hair, his begrimed face, his bristly beard, his eyebrows as thick as two brushes with red bfistles. his blue green eyes, their damp corners marked with the wrinkles of old age.He must have been sixty-five-but might have been tnohght less.But he Was big, hardy, upright tilldel his yellowish cloak, less shaggy thall his chest；and a painter would not have disdained to sketch him, wearing his grass hat like a straw lid and resting on his crook as motionless as a rock.

Just as the rays were corning through the break in the west, Frik looked round. Turning his half-closed halld into a telescope, as he had alrcady turned itinto a speaking-tfumpet to make himself heard at a distante, he looked through it attentively.

On the clear horizon, a good mne away and much diminished by the distance, was a group of buildings. This antient castle, on an isolated shoulder of the Vulkall range, occupied the upper part of a table-land, the Organ Plateau.In the bright light the Castle stood out with stereoscopic clearness, yet the shepherd's eye must have been elldowed with great power of visioil for him to make out ally detan in that distallt mass.

Suddenlv he exclaimed，-with a shake of the head-‘Old castle……Old Castle……It's all very well for you to stalld on your base. Thtee years more and you will have perished, for your beech-tree has only three branthes left.'

This beech-tree, planted at the elld of one of the castle's bastioils, stood out bIack against the sky, and at that distante wonld have been almost invisible to ally one else thall Frik. The explanatton of his words, evoked by a legend referring to the castle, will be given later.‘Yes，'he repeated，‘three branches yesterday……There were four, but the fourth'has fallen during the night……and only the stump is left……I can only count three at the fork……No more than three, old castle-no more than three！'

If we approach a shepherd on his idealistic side, he might easily be imagined a dreamy, contemplative being：he converses with the planets：he consults the stars, he reads the skies. In reality he is generally a stupid ignorant brute.But public credulity easily credits him with supernatural gifts：he practises sorcery；at his whim he can throw a spell over man and beast-or, what comes to the same thing, he sells sympathetic powders, and you can buy philtres and charms from him.Can't he make the furrows barren by throwing enchanted stones into them？Can't he make the ewes sterile by merely looking at them with his left eye？These superstitions are found in all times and in all countries.Even in the most civilized lands, nobody meets.a shepherd without giving him some friendly word, some meaningful gesture, greeting him by the name of‘pastor'which he likes best.Atouch of the hat keeps off any evil influences, and on the roads of Transylvania this is no more omitted than anywhere else.

Frik, then, was regarded as a sorcerer, one who could call up fantasticapparitions. Some people said that the vampires and stryges obeyed him, others declared that he was to be met with at the setting of the moon on dark nights astride of the arms of the mill talking with the wolves or dreaming in the starlight.

Frik let them talk, he found it paid him. He sold eharms and counter-charms.But, it should be remembered, he was himself as credulous as his followers；and if he did not believe in his own witchcraft, at least he believed in his country's legends.

There was nothing surprising, therefore, in his forebodings of the early disappearance of the old castle, now that the beech was reduced to three branches, or his desire to bear the news to Werst.

After mustering his flock by bellowing loudly through a long white-wood trumpet, he took the road to the village. His dogs followed him, hurrying the animals on-two mongrel demigriffins, snarling and ferocious, who seemed fitter to eat the sheep than to guard them.He had a hundred rams and exes, a dozen yearlings, the rest three or four years old.

The flock belonged to the judge of Werst, the biro Koltz, who paid the commune a large sum for pasturage, and who thought highly of his shepherd Frik, knowing him to be skilful at shearing and experienced with the treatment of such maladies as the animals are prone to.

The flock moved in a compact mass, the bell-wether at the head making its clangour heard above the bleating.

After leaving the pasture Frik took a wide footpath bordered by spacious fields. Here waved magnificent ears of corns, very long in the straw and high on the stalk；here stretched several plantations of koukouroutz, the maize of the country.The road led to the edge of a forest of firs and spruces, cool and dark beneath their branches.Further down flowed the Syl, its shining course, filtered by the pebbles in its bed, bearing the logs of wood from the sawmills up stream.

Dogs and sheep stopped On the right bank of the river and began to drink greedily, pushing the reeds aside.

Werst was not more than three gunshots away, beyond a thick plantation of willows, not stunted pollards but well-grown trees. These willows stretchedaway up tb Vulkan Hill, the village of the same name, standing on a salient on the southern slope of the Plesa range.

The fields were still deserted. It is only at nightfall that the labourers return home, and Frik, as he went along, had no traditional‘good night'to exchange.When his flock had quenched their thirst, he was about to enter the valley when someone appeared at a bend in the Syl, some fifty yards down stream.‘Hello, friend！'he shouted to the shepherd.

He was one of those pedlars who travel from market to market in the district and are met with in the towns and even in the most humble villages. They have no difficulty in making themselves understood, for they speak all languages.Was this one an Italian, a Saxon, or a Wallachian？No one could say, but he was a Jew-a Polish Jew, tall, thin, hook-nosed, with a pointed beard, a prominent forehead, and lively eyes.

This pedlar dealt in telescopes, thermometers, barometers, and small clocks. What he did not carry in the bag firmly strapped over his shoulder, he hung from his neck and his belt, so that he resembled a travelling stall.This Jew, no doubt, shared the respect and the salutary fear which the shepherds inspire.He shook Frik by the hand.Then in the Roumanian language, a mixture of Latin and Sclave, he said with a foreign accent-‘Are you getting on all right, friend？'‘Yes-according to the weather，'Frik replied.‘Then you must be doing well today, for it's fine.'‘And I shall do badly tomorrow, for it will be raining.'‘It'll rain？'the pedlar exclaimed.‘So it rains without clouds in your country？'‘The clouds will come tonight-and from down there..，from the bad side of the mountain.'‘How do you know？'‘By the wool of my sheep, it's'as harsh and dry as tanned leather.'‘Then it will be all the worse for those who are tramping the roads！'‘And all the better for those who stay at home.'‘For that you have to have a home, shep-herd.'‘Have you any children？'asked Frik.‘No.'‘Are you married？'‘No.'

Frik asked all this because in this country it is usual to ask everybody one meets. He contin ued，‘Where do you come from, pedlar？'‘From Hermanstad.'

Hermanstad is one of the principal villages of Transylvania.‘And you're going？'‘To Kolosvar.'

These vendors of thermometers, barometers, and cheap jewellery always seem to be a people apart, with something Hoffmanesque in their appearance. This comes from their trade.They sell time and weather in all forms-the time which flies, the weather which is, and the weather which will be-just as other packmen sell baskets and drapery.They are, so to speak, commercial travellers for the sky.And this was the effect the, Jew produced on Frik, who gazed, not without astonishment, at this display of obieets which were new to him, and whose use he did not know.‘I say'，pedlar，'said he, stretching out his arm，‘what's the use of all this stuff that's rattling at your belt like the bones of somebody who's been hanged？'‘These things are valuable，'said the pedlar；‘they're useful to everybody.'‘To everybody？'exclaimed Frik，‘even shepherds？'‘Even shepherds.'‘And this contrivance？'‘This contrivance，'answered the Jew, putting a thermometer into his hands，‘will tell you if it's hot or cold.'‘Ah, friend！I can tell that when I'm sweating in my tunic, or shivering in my overcoat.'

That was certainly enough for a shepherd who did not trouble himself about the whys and wherefores of science.‘And this big watch with a needle？'he continued, pointing to an aneroid.‘That isn't a watch, it's an instrument to tell you if it will be fine tomorrowor if it will rain.'‘Really？'‘Really.”‘Good，'said Frik.‘I don't want that, even if it only costs a kreutzer. I've only got to look at the clouds trailing down in the mountains or racing over the high peaks, and then can't I tell you what the weather will be a day ahead？Look, do you see that mist which seems to be rising from the ground？Well, I tell you it means wet tomorrow！'

And, certainly, the shepherd, a great observer of the weather, could do very well without a barometer.‘I won't ask you if you want a clock，”continued the pedlar.‘A clock……I've got one which goes by itself and hangs over my head. That's the sun up there.Look, friend, when it's over the peak of Roduk it's noon；when it looks at me across the Egelt gap it's six o'clock.My sheep know it as well as I do, and my dogs as well as my sheep.You ca.n keep your clocks.'‘Well then, said the pedlar，‘if the only customers I had were shepherds, I'd find it a hard job to make a fortune. And so you don't want anything？'‘Nothing at all.'

Moreover, all these cheap goods were of very poor workmanship；the barometers never agreed as to its being change or set fair, the clock-hands made the hours too long or the minutes too short-in fact they were simply rubbish. The shepherd suspected this, perhaps, so he did not care to become a buyer.But just as he was picking up his stick, he caught sight of a sort of tube hanging from the pedlar's strap.‘What do you do with that tube you've got there？'‘That isn't a tube.'‘Is it a horse-pistol？'‘No，'the Jew explained，‘it's a telescope.'

It was one of those common telescopes which magnify objects five or six times, or bring them as near, which comes to the same thing.

Frik unhooked the instrument, looked at it, fingered it and pulled its tubes in and out. Then, shaking his head，‘A telescope？'he asked.‘Yes, shepherd, and a good one, too, and one that will make you see a long way off.'‘Oh！I'have good eyes, my friend. When the weather is clear I can see the farthest rocks on the top of Retzysat and the farthest trees in the Volkan valleys.'‘Without squinting？'‘Without squinting. It's the dew which makes me do that, when I sleep from night to morning under the stars.That's the sort of thing to clean up your pupils.'‘What-the dew？'said the pedlar.‘It might perhaps blind-'‘Not the shepherds.'‘I daresay！But if you've got good eyes, mine are better when I put them to the end of that telescope.'‘That remains to be seen.'‘Put yours to it now！'‘Mine？'‘Try.'‘That won't cost me anything？'asked Fiik；he had a suspicious mind.‘Nothing at all, unless you decide to buy.'

Reassured on this point, Frik took the telescope, whose tubes the pedlar adjusted. Shutting his left eye he applied the eye-piece to his right eye.

He first looked towards Vulkan Hill and then up towards Plesa. That done, he lowered the instrument and brought it to bear on the Werst village.‘Ah！ah！'he said.‘It'strue enough. It does carry farther than my eyes.There's the main road.I can recognize people.There's Nic Deck, the forester, coming back from his rounds with his haversack on his back and his gun over his shoulder.'‘Didn't I tell you？'asked the pedlar.‘Yes, yes, that really is Nic！'the shepherd continued.‘But who's, the girl who's coming out of Koltz's house, with the red petticoat and the black bodice, as if she's going to meet him？'‘Keep on looking, shepherd. You'll soon recognize the girl as well as theyoung fellow.'‘Ah！yes！It's Miriota-the lovely Miriota！

……Ah！lovers, lovers……This time they can't get out of it, for I've got them at the end of my tube, and I shan't lose any of their little games！'‘What do you say about the telescope？'‘Eh……It does make you see a long way！'

As Frik was looking through a telescope for the first time, Werst must have been one of the most backward villages in Klausenburg district：and that this was so will soon be seen.‘Come on, shepherd，'continued the pedlar，‘have another look；look farther than Werst. The village is too near us.Look farther, much farther, I tell you！'‘That won't cost any more？'‘No more.'‘Good！I'll look towards the Hungarian Syl……Yes. There's the clock-tower at Livadzel.I can recognize it by its cross-it's lost one arm.And, beyond in the valley, among the pines, I can see the spire at Petroseny with its tin-plate weathercock with its beak open as if it were going to call its chickens……and, beyond, there's that tower sticking up amid the trees……That's the Petrilla tower……But I suppose, pedlar, it is all the same price？'‘All the same price, shepherd.'

Frik turned the telescope towards the Orgall plateau；then he used it to follow the curtain of gloomy forests on the slopes of Plesa, and the field of the objective framed the distant outline of the castle.‘Yes''he exclaimed，‘the fourth branch is down on the ground, just as I saw it. And no one will pick it to make a torch of it for St.John's night……Nobody, not even me……It would be to risk body and soul together……But don't worry about it……There's someone who will know how to gather it tonight for his hellish fire-that's the Chort！'

The Chort is called the devil when he is invoked in the language of the country.

Perhaps the Jew might have asked for an explanation of theseincomprehensible words, as he was not a native of Werst or its environs, had not Frik exclaimed in a voice of terror mingled with surprise，—‘What's that mist rising from the donjon……Is it mist……No……Anyone would say it Was smoke……It can't be possible. For hundreds and hundreds of years the chimneys of the castle have never smoked！'‘If you can see smoke over there, shepherd, it's beeaase there is smokel'‘No, pedlar, no……It is the glass of this thing of yours that's got misty.'‘Wipe it.'‘And when I've wiped it-'

Frik lowered the telescope, and, when he had rubbed the lenses clear, he put it back to his eye.

It was undoubtedly smoke streaming from the roof of the'donjon. It was rising high in the air and mingling with the clouds.

Frik stood motionless and silent. All his attention was concentrated on the castle, from which the rising shadows began to reach the level of the Orgall plateau.

Suddenly he lowered the telescope and, thrusting his hand into the pouch he wore under his cloak，‘How much do you want for your tube？'he asked.‘A florin and a half！'the pedlar replied.

And he would have sold the telescope for a florin if Frik had shown any wish to bargain for it. But the shepherd did not say a word.Evidently under the influence of an amazement as sudden as it was inexplicable, he plunged his hand deep into his wallet and pulled out the money.‘Are you buying the telescope for yourself？'asked the pedlar.‘No；for my master-Judge Koltz.'‘And he'll pay you back？'‘Yes, the two florins that it cost me.'‘What！The two florins？'‘Eh！Certainly！That and no less. Good evening, friend！'‘Good evening, shepherd.'

And Frik, whistling to his dogs and urging on his flock, went off rapidly in the direction of Werst.

The Jew, looking at him as he went, shook his head, as if he had been doing business withc a madman.‘If I'd known that，'he murmured.‘I'd have charged him more for that telescope.'

Then he adjusted his burden on his belt and shoulders and resumed his journey to Karlsburg down the right bank of the Syl.

Where did he go？No matter. He won't appear in the story again.第二章导读

喀尔巴阡城堡就像镶嵌在皇冠上的明珠，矗立在孚尔康山口左侧的奥尔加勒高地上。远处的人慕名而来，但给再多的钱，也没人肯当向导带他们到城堡去。

城堡四周有一道高约几百尺的土围墙，右边角楼上有一棵高大的山毛榉树。角楼上还有一个尖顶的凉亭，左边用扶垛支撑着一个小教堂。大风一刮，上边大钟的声音听着让人感到害怕。古塔在城堡的中间，塔的二层四周有游廊，塔顶平台上的金属杆上有彩色的金属环，城堡里面的情况没人知道。

古堡前面的隘口是连接附近各省的唯一通道，希尔河河谷上游的几个小镇位于一片富饶的煤田上。

城堡建筑于十二世纪，那时，地方上都有城防工事，不知哪位建筑师把城堡建在了这悬崖峭壁上。城堡的主人是德戈尔兹家族，他们因阻止过匈牙利人、撒克逊人和泽克莱尔族人，而载入了“冈底斯人”和“多依那人”的战争史册。而他们的后代却遭受了三代贵族的压迫，但他们坚信一定能打碎套在脖子上的枷锁。

十九世纪中期，德戈尔兹家族唯一的继承人鲁道夫二十二岁时，带着万贯家财，游遍了德国、法国和意大利的各大剧院，后来他回到家乡，参加了罗马尼亚居民反抗匈牙利人的斗争。

起义失败后，鲁道夫参加了罗扎桑多尔的队伍，后来又脱离了这个匪帮。

也有人说他在一次战斗中死去，城堡里的仆人也陆续死去，城堡就此荒废了。从此，阴森森的城堡成了神出鬼没的场所，里面藏着巨龙和吸血鬼，还有德戈尔兹男爵家族的亡灵。所以，古堡名声大振，但从没有人大着胆子进去探一下究竟。

村里的人认为古堡的命运和它上边的那棵山毛榉树有关。牧羊人观察到它原来有十八个树杈。每年掉一个，现在只剩下三个了，因此古堡也只有三年的寿命了，威思特村的人对这个说法深信不疑。

牧羊人快步往村里赶，就连路过的农民也向他致意。他回礼十分勉强，使得农民很不安，以为出了什么事。

牧羊人回去告诉法官城堡里面冒烟了，并拉着法官到山口的一个平台上拿出望远镜。

法官问那是什么东西，牧羊人说是花了两个弗洛林为法官买的。说着让法官将眼睛对准望远镜，法官确实看到有烟从古堡中冒出。这时，米柳达和护林人也走过来了，他们也看到了城堡的烟。五六位邻居听说了也过来看，也说看到了古堡冒出的烟。hether They are rocks piled up by natural means in distant geologicalepochs, or constructions built by the hand of man Wover which has passed thee breath of time, they look much the same when viewed from a few miles off. Unworked and worked stone may easily be confused.From afar, the same eolour, the same lineaments, the same deviations of line in the perspective, the same uniformity of tint under the grey patina of the centuries.

And so it was with this building, commonly known as Carpathian Castle. It was impossible to distinguish the indefinite outlines of this structure on the plateau of Orgall, which crowns the left of Vulkan Hill.It did not stand out in relief from the mountainous background.What might have been taken for a donjon might be only a stony mound；what might be supposed to be a curtain with its battlements was perhaps only a rocky crest.The whole was vague, floating, uncertain.And in the opinion of many tourists Carpathian Castle existed only in the imagination of the country-folk.

Of course, the easiest way to verify its existence would be to bargain with a guide from Vulkan or Werst, to go up the valley, scale the ridge, and visit the buildings. But a guide would have been as hard to find as the road leading to the castle.Nobody in the region would have agreed to guide a traveller, no matter what the remuneration, to Carpathian Castle.

What might be seen of this ancient habitation in the field of a telescope more powerful and better focussed than the trumpery thing which the shepherd Frik had bought for his master Koltz, was this：—

Some hundreds of feet to the rear of Vulkan Hill lay a grey enclosure, covered with climbing plants and extending for several hundred feet along the irregularities of the plateau；at each end were two corner bastions, from the righthand one growing the famous beech beside a slender watch-tower or look-out with a pointed roof；on the left a few stretches of wall, strengthened by flying buttresses, supporting the tower of a chapel, whose cracked bell was often sounded in the high winds to the great alarm of the country-folk；in the midst, crowned by its crenellated platform, a heavy, formidable donjon or keep, with three rows of leaded windows, the first storey surrounded by a circular terrace；on the roof a long metal spire, ornamented with a feudal weathercock, held motionless by the rust, which a last puff of the north-west wind had set pointing to the south-east.

As to What was inside in this enclosure, whether there were any habitable building within it, whether a drawbridge or a postern gave admittance to it, had been unknown for many years. Indeed, although Carpathian Castle was in better preservation than it seemed, an infectious terror, reinforced by superstition, protected it as much as its former bombards, culverins, thunderers, and other types of mediaeval artillery.

Nevertheless, Carpathian Castle was well worth visiting by tourists and antiquaries. Its situation on the crest of the Orgall plateau was unusually fine.From the roof of the donjon, the view extended to the farthest point of the mountains.In the rear undulated the lofty chain, so capriciously spurred, which marks the Wallachian frontier.In front lay the sinuous defile of the Vulcan, the only practicable route between the frontier provinces.Beyond the valley of the two Syls were several towns grouped at the mouths of the shafts by which this rich coal-basin is worked.In the distance an admirable series of ridges, wooded at their bases, green on their flanks, barren on their summits, were dominated by the rugged peaks of Retyezat and Paring.Far away appeared the distantmist-clad outlines of the Central Transylvanian Alps.

Here had formerly been a lake into which the two Syls flowed before they found a gap through the mountainchain. Nowadays this depression is a coal-field with its advantages and disadvantages：the tall brick chimneys rise amid the poplars, pines；and beeches, and black fumes poison the air, once saturated with the perfume of fruit-trees and flowers.But at this time of our story, although industry was holding the mining district in its iron grasp, the country had lost none of its wild character.

Carpathian Castle dated from the twelfth or thirteenth century. In those days, under the rule of the chiefs or voi'vodes, monastries, churches, palaces, castles were fortified with as much care as the towns and villages.Lords and.peasants had to secure themselves against aggression of all kinds.This explains why the old fortifications of the castle, its bastions and its keep, made it look like a feudal building ready to defend itself.What architect could have built it on this plateau, at this height？Nobody knows, and the bold builder is unknown, unless it was the Roumanian Manoli, so glori ously sung of in Wallachian legend, who built at Curtéd’Argis the celebrated castle of Rodolphe the Black.

Whatever doubts there might be as to the architect, there were none as to the family which owned the castle. The barons of Gortz had been lords of the country from time immemorial.They were involved in all the wars which ensanguined the Transylvanian fields；they fought against the Hungarians, the Saxons, the Szeklers；their name figures in the‘cantices'and‘doines'，which perpetuate the memory of these disastrous times.For their motto they had the famous Wallachian proverb, Da pe maorte，‘Give urno death'；and they gave：they poured out their blood for the cause of independence, the blood which came to them from their ancestors, the Romans.

Yet all their devotedness and sacrifice ended only in reducing the descendants of this valiant race to the most unworthy oppression. It no longer exists politically.Three heels have crushed it.But these Wallachians of Transylvania have never despaired of shaking off the yoke.The future belongs to them, and it is with Unshakable confidence that they repeat these words which sum up all their aspirations：

Roman no no pépé！‘The Roumanian does not know how to perish’.

Towards the middle of the nineteenth century the last representative of the Lords of Gortz was Baron Rodolphe. Born at Carpathian Castle, he had seen his family, die away around him in his early youth.At twenty-two years he found himself alone in the world.His people had fallen off year by year, like the branches of the age-old beech-tree with which popular superstition associated the castle's existence.

Without eelatives, almost without friends, what could Baron Rodolphe do to occupy the leisure of this monotonous solitude that death had made around him？What were his tastes, his instincts, his aptitudes？They would not have been easy to discover beyond an irresistible passion for music, and above all for the singing of the great artistes of the time. And so, after having entrusted the castle, then much dilapidated, to the care of a few old servants, he one day disappeared.And, as was learned later, he had devoted his wealth, which was certainly large, to Visiting the musical centres of Europe, the theatres of Getmany, France, and Italy, where he could indulge himself in his insatiable dilettante fanties.Was he an eccentric, or a madman？His strange life led people to suppose so.

But the remembrance of his country was deeply engraven on the heart of the young lord of Gortz. In his distant wanderings he had not forgotten his Transylvanien birthplace, and he liad returned to take part in one of the sanguinary revolts of the Roumanian peasantry against the Hungarian oppression.

The descendants of the ancient Dacians were then conquered, and their territory was shared among the conquerors.

It was in consequence of this defeat that Baron Rodolphe finally left Carpathian Castle, parts of which had already fallen into ruin. Death soon deprived the castle of its last servants, leaving it totally deserted.As to the Baron de Gortz, the report went that he had patriotically associated himself with the famous Rosza Sandor, a former highwayman, whom the war of independence had made into a dramatic hero.Happily for him, at the close of the struggle Rodolphe de Gortz had separated from the band of the‘betyar'，and he had done wisely, for the former brigand had again become a robber chief, and ended by falling into the hands of the police, who imprisoned him inthe Szamos-Uyvar jail.

Nevertheless, another version was generally believed in locally, that Baron Rodolphe had been killed during an encounter between Rosza Sandor and the customhouse officers on the frontier. This was not so, although the Baron de Gortz had never appeared at the castle since that time and his death was generally taken for granted.

A castle deserted, haunted, and mysterious. A vivid and ardent imagination soon peopled it with phantoms；ghosts appeared in it, and spirits returned to it at all hours of the night.Such opinions are still common in some of the superstitious countries of Europe, and Transylvania is one of the most superstitious.

Besides, how could the village of Werst break with belief in the supernatural？The priest and the schoolmaster, the one charged with the education of the faithful, the other with that of the children, taught these fables as openly as if they believed in them. They affirmed, and even produced‘evidence'，that werewolves prowled about the country；that vampires known as stryges, because they shrieked.like stryges, quenched their thirst on human blood；that‘staffii'lurked about the ruins and became yindictive if something to eat and drink were not left for them every night.There were fairies who should not be met with on Tuesdays or Fridays, the two worst days in the week.In the depths of the forests, those enchanted forests, lurked the‘balauri'，gigantic dragons whose jaws gape up to the clouds, the‘zmei'with vast wings, who carry away the daughters of the blood royal, and even those of meaner lineage so long as they are attractive！Here, it would seem, were plenty of formidable monsters, and what is the good spirit which in the popular imagination opposes them？Simply the‘serpi de casa'，the snake of the fireside, which lives at the back of the hearth, and whose benign influence the peasant purchases by feeding him with'the best milk.

If ever a building, wcrc a fitting refuge for the creatures of this Roumanian mythology, was it not Carpathian Castle？On that isolated plateau, inaccessible except from the left of Vulkan Hill, no doubt there lived dragons and fairies and vampires, and perhaps also a few ghosts of the Gortz family.

Hence it had an evil reputation, said to be justified. Nobody dared visit it.It spread around it an epidemic of fear as an unhealthy marsh gives forth its pestilential emanations.Nobody could approach within a quarter of a mile of it without risking his life in this world and his salvation inthe next.At least so it was taught in the school of Magister Hermod.

Yet this state of things was at last to end, and that as soon as no stone remained of the ancient stronghold of the barons of Gortz. And here it was that the legend came in.

If the authorities of the village were to be believed, the existence of the castle was bound up with that of the old beech-tree whose branches grimaced in the bastion to the right of the enclosure. Since Rodolphe de Gortz had gone, the people of the village, and especially, the shepherd Frik, had noticed this-the beechtree had lost one of its main branches every year.Eighteen had sprung from the first fork when Baron Rodolphe was seen for the last time on the roof of the keep, and now there were only three.So every blanch that fell meant a year less in the castle's life.The fall of the last would mean its final destruction；and then on the Orgall plateau the remains of Carpathian Castle would be sought in vain.

This was in fact but one of those legends which spring up so readily in the Roumanian imagination. First of all, did this beech-tree really lose one of its branches a year？Frik did not hesitate to assert that it did, he who never lost sight of it while his flock was pasturing in the meadows of the Syl.And indeed, from the highest to the lowest of the people of Werst, none doubted that the castle had but three years to live, for only lhree branches could now be eotmted on the tutelary tree.

The shepherd had been hastening back to the village with this important news when there had occurredthe incident of the telescope.

Important news, very important in fact！Smoke had appeared above the donjon！What his eyes alone had not been able to see, Frik had clearly made out with the pedlar's, tele. scope.It was not steam, it was smoke which was merging into the clouds.Yet the castle was deserted.For a long time no one had entered the gate, which was no doubt shut, nor crossed the drawbridge, which was undoubtedly raised.If it were inhabited, this could only be by supernatural beings.……But what use could spirits have for a fire in the rooms of the keep……Was the fire in a bedroom or was it the kitchen fire……Here was something quite inexplicable.

Frik hurried his sheep along the road；at his voice the dogs urged the flock up the rising track, whose dust had been laid by the evening mists.

A few peasants, delayed in the fields, greeted him as he passed, but he scarcely replied to them. And this aroused great uneasiness, for to avoid evil influences, it is not enough to say‘Good evening'to a shepherd, the shepherd must reply.And Frik did not appear much inclined to do so, as he hurried on with his haggard eyes, his strange gait, and his frantic gestures.The wolves and the bears might have walked off With half his flock without his noticing it.What bad news could he possibly bring？

The first who learnt the news was Judge Koltz. While still Some way off Frik saw him and shouted-‘There's a fire at the castle, master！'‘What are you telling me？'‘I'm telling you the truth！'‘Have you gone mad？'

And how could a fire break out in such a heap of old stones？As well assert thdt Negói, the highest peak of the Carpathians, had been devoured by flames.It would have been no more absurd.‘You say that the castle's on fire？'asked Master Koltz.‘If it isn't on fire, it's smoking.'‘It must be some mist.'‘No, it's smoke. Come and see！'

And they went out into the middleof the main road down. the village, down to a terrace on the valley slope from which the castle was visible.

When they got there Frik handed the telescope to Master Koltz.

Evidently its use was no more known to him than it had been to his shepherd.‘What's this？'he asked.‘It's something I bought for you for two florins, master, and it's well worth four.'‘From whom？'‘Apedlar.'‘And what's it for？'‘Put it to your eye, point it at the castle, look and you'll see.'

The judge levelled the telescope at the castle and gazed through it for some time.

Yes！There was smoke rising from one of the chimneys of the donjon. Blown away by the breeze, it was floating up the mountain side.‘Smokel'Master Koltz explained in astonishment. But now he and Frik had been joined by Miriota and the forester Nic Deck, who had been in for some time.‘What's the use of this？'asked the young man, taking the telescope.‘To see far off with，'the shepherd told him.‘Are you joking？'‘Joking？Hardly an hour ago I saw you coming down the road into Werst. You and-'

He did not finish his sentence. Miriota had blushed and lowered her pretty eyes.After all, a good girl is not forbidden to meet her betrothed.

They took the famous telescope, and looked through it at the castle.

Meanwhile half a dozen neighbours had arrived on the terrace, and, after asking what it all meant, they took turns to look through the telescope.‘Smoke！Smoke at the castle！'one of them exclaimed.‘Perhaps the donjon has been struck by lightning！'replied another.‘Has there been any thunder，'Master Koltz asked.‘Not a sound for a week，'the shepherd replied.

And the good folks could not have been more bewildered if a crater had opened on the summit of Retyezat to give vent to the subterranean vapours.第三章导读

威思特村有一条街道，两旁分布着六十多座房屋。在这条街上，有卖肉的、卖水果，羊群、牛群及取道山隘的旅行者都从这里经过。

村里的居民都是在沿途扎营的流浪者定居下来的。他们讲罗马尼亚语言，受世袭的头人领导，住在孚尔康村的神甫是他们的宗教首领。

村里的教师海尔莫德，对于地理、科学、历史方面只知道本地的一些民歌和传说，他不懂科学，只能讲些神鬼故事。

法官兼村长科尔兹今年快六十岁了，是罗马尼亚后裔，身材矮小。他除了调解邻里纠纷外，还管理着村子。在村中进行的交易都要向他交税，包括过路的、外国的旅游者等，把他的腰包塞满了。他也向外放债，但没有以色列人那么贪婪。他有几座农场，但没有税务负担。在村里，他的房子是最好的。屋内洁静、舒适，里面挂着罗马尼亚爱国人士的肖像。十几年前他的妻子去世了，但他一直未娶，和唯一的女儿漂亮的米柳达住在这所美丽的住宅。

米柳达二十岁了，长得很美丽，而且家中富有。她跟海尔莫德老师学会了读、写、算。对这一地区的神话了解得十分清楚，她还是尼克·戴克的未婚妻。

今年二十五岁的尼克·戴克，也叫尼克拉，身材高大、面容英俊，是罗马尼亚人。他在威思特村有几块土地，法官也很喜欢他。半个月之后，他将和米柳达科尔兹举行婚礼。

村里的乡村教师海尔莫德五十五岁，身材高大，成天嘴里叼着烟斗，反对学生们用钢笔，平时替学生们削铅笔，他认为学生写一手漂亮的字比传授知识还重要。

四十五岁的巴塔克医生长得又矮又胖，在这个地区有点儿名气。他原来是边防检查站的检查员，没有任何医学常识。可他既开方又卖药，他的药没有任何效力。村民们有病吃他的药，而治疗完全靠他们自身的治愈能力和良好体质。他不迷信，也没人去和他争辩。但在村民心中，喀尔巴阡古堡还是那么神秘。he Village of Werst is of so little importance that most maps do noteven show its position.T

It is a street, this village, nothing but a wide street, whose uphill nature makes its ascent and descent laborious enough. It serves as the natural thoroughfare between the Wallaehian and Transylvanian frontiers.Through it pass the cattle and sheep and pigs, the dealers in fresh meat, fruits, and cereals, and the few travellers who venture through the defile instead of taking the Kolosvar and Maros valley railways.Here is a district that would seem to be greatly favoured by nature, and yet its wealth is of very little profit to its population.

Some sixty houses, irregularly clustering along the only street, each capped with a fanciful roof whose ridge overhangs the wall of hardened clay, its front towards the garden, an attic with a skylight for a top storey, a dilapidated barn for an annexe：a straw-covered stable, all awry：here and there a well surmounted by a beam from which hangs a bucket；two or three ponds which overflow during a storm；streams, with tortuous ruts to indicate their course；such is the village of Werst；built on both sides of the road between the scree on the hillside. But it is quite fresh and attractive with flowers at the doors and windows, curtains of verdure screening the walls, plants in disorder mingling with the old gold of the thatch，-poplars, elms, beeches, pines, maples, climbing above the houses as high as they can go.Beyond are the zigzags of the hillsides, and in the background the crests of the mountains, blue in the distance, and mingling with the blue of the sky.

Neither German nor Hungarian is spoken at Werst, nor anywhere in this part of Transylvania；the people speak Roumanian-even the gipsies, of whom a few families are Settled rather than encamped in the villages. These strangers adopt the language of the country as they adopt its religion.Those of Werst form a sort of clan under the authority of a voi'vode, with their huts, their‘barakas'with pointed roofs, their swarms of children, so different in the manners and mode of their life from those of their kinsmen who wander about Europe.They even belong to the Greek Church, and conform to the religion of the Christians among whom they have settled.As religious head Werst has a priesb who resides at Vulkan, and serves the two villages, which are only half a mile apart.

Civilization is like air or water. Wherever there is a passage open to it, be it only a fissure, it will penetrate and modify the conditions of a country.But it must be admitted that no fissure has yet been found through this southern portion of the Carpathians.Vulkan, as the great geographer Elisée Reelus put it, is‘the last outpost of civilization in the valley of the Wallachian syl，’and it is not astonishing that Werst is one of the most backward villages of the county of Kolosvar.And how could it be otherwise in such places, where everyone is born and lives and dies without ever leaving them？

But perhaps there is a schoolmaster and a judge at Werst？Yes, no doubt. But Magister Hermod was able to teach only what he knew-that is to read a little, to write a little, to reckon a little.His own knowledge did not go beyond that.of science, history, geography, literature, he knew nothing beyond the popular soags and legends of the surrounding country.In that respect his memory was richly stored.He was strong on subjects of phantasy, and the few scholars of the village profited by his lessons.

As to the chief justice of Werst, the biró，Master Koltz, was a little man, of from fifty-five to sixty years old, a Roumanian by birth, his hair close cut and grey, his moustache still black, his eyes more gentle than fiery.Solidly built, like a mountaineer, he wore the large felt hat on his head, the high belt with ornamental buckle round his waist, the sleeveless waistcoat, and the short baggy breeches tucked into his high leather boots.Rather mayor than judge, though his functions obliged him to intervene in the many disputes between neighbour and neighbour, he was chiefly occupied in administering his villagewith a great show of authority, and not without some benefit to his purse.In fact, all transactions, Purchases or sales, were subject to a tax for his benefit, to say nothing of the tolls with which travellers for pleasure or trade filled his pocket.

This lucrative position kept Mastet Koltz in easy circumstances. If most of the peasants of the country were ground down by usury, which soon make the Israelitish money-lenders the real proprietors of the soil, the biróhad managed to escape.His goods were free from taxes, and he owed nothing.He would rather lend than borrow, and’he would certainly have done so without fleecing the poor.He owned several pasturages, good grazing grounds for his flocks：lands under fair cultivation, although he would have nothing to do with newfangled methods；vineyards which flattered his vanity when he walked down the lines of stems covered with the grapes he sold at a good profit, although he retained a fair proportion for his own use.

It goes without saying thai the house of Master Koltz was the finest in the village, at the angle of the terrace which crossed the long road in its ascent. A stone house, if you please, with its facade all round the garden；its door between the third and fourth windows, with fes, toons of verdure bordering the gutter with their slender branchlets；the two great beech-trees spreading their boughs above the flowery thatch.Behind lay a fine orchard, with its beds of vegetables like a chessboard, and its rows of fruit-trees skirting the slope of the hill.Inside the house were fine clean rooms, some to dine in, some to sleep in, with their painted furniture, tables, beds, benches and stools, their dressers, on which shone the pots and dishes；from the beams of the ceiling hung vases decorated with ribbons and gaily-coloured cloth；heavy coffers, covered with quilts, served as chests and cupboards；the white walls, With highly-coloured portraits of Roumanian patriots-among others that popular hero of the fifteenth century, the voi'vode Vayda-Hunyad.

It was a charming house, which would have been too large for one man. But Master Koltz did not live alone.A widower for twelve years, he had a daughter, the lovely Miriota, admired everywhere from Werst to Vulkan, and even beyond.She might have been called by one of those weird Pagan flames, Florica, Daina, Dauritia, much in vogue in Wallachian families.No！she wasMiriota, the‘little sheep'.

But she had grown, this little sheep. She was now a graceful girl of twenty, fair with brown eyes, a gentle look, charming features, and a pleasing figure.Indeed, she could Cot look other than attractive, with her chemisette embroidered with red thread up to the eotlar and on the wrists and on the shoulders, her petticoat clasped by a belt with silver buckles, her‘catrinza'，or double apron, with red and blue stripes, knotted to her waist, her little boots of yeltow leather, the light handkerchief on her head, her long hair floating behind her in a plait ornamented with a ribbon or a metal clasp.

Yes！a handsome girl was Miriota Koltz, and-which did her no harm-she was rich, that is for this village lost in the depfhs of the Carpathians. A good manager？Undoubtedly；for she managed her father's house very skilfully.Was she educated？Well！At Magister Hermod's school the had learnt to read, to write, to cipher, and she ciphered, wrote, and read correctly；but she had not been pushed very far-and for good reason.

On the other hand, she knew all there was to be known of the Transylvanian traditions and sagas. She knew as much about them as her master.She knew the legend of Leany-K, the Virgin's Rock, in which a somewhat fantastic princess had escaped from the pursuit of the Tartars；the legend of the Dragon's Cave in the Valley of the‘King's Stairs'；the legend of the fortress of Deva, which was built in the‘days of the Fairies'；the legend of the Detunata, the‘Thunderclap'，that famous basaltic mounrain like a gigantic stone fiddle, on which the devil plays on stormy nights；the legend of Retyezat, with its summit cut off by a witch；the legend of the Valley of Thorda, cleft by the stroke of the sword of Saint Ladislas.It must be admitted that Miriota believed in all these mythological fictions；but she was none the less a charming and amiable girl.

A good many young men of the district found her to their taste, even without considering that she was the only heiress of the bitó，Master Koltz, the first magistrate of Werst.But there was no use in paying her attentions.Was she not already engaged to Nicolas Deck？

A handsome type of Roumanian was this Nicolas, or rather Nic, Deck；twenty-five years old, tall, with a strong constitution, head proudly raised, black hair, covered by the white kolpak, a clear frank look, bearing himself well under his vest of lambskin embroidered with needlework, well set on his slender legs like a deer's, and an air of determination in his gait and gestures. He was a forester by trade, almost as much a soldier as a civilian.As he owned a little land under cultivation in the environs of Werat, the father approved of him；and as he was a good-looking, well-made fellow, the daughter, with whom he was deeply in love, did not disapprove of him.He would not allow any one to rival him, nor to look at her too closely-and what's more, nobody ever thought of doing so.

The marriage of Nic Deck and Miriota Koltz was to take place in a fortnight, towards the middle of the approaching month. On that occasion the village would hold a general holiday.Master Koltz would attend to it properly.He was no miser.If he liked getting money, he did not refuse to spend it at the proper time.When the ceremony was over Nic Deck would take up his residence in the house which would be his when the bitówas gone；and when Miriota knew he was so near her, perhaps she would stop getting frightened when she heard the creak of a door or rattling of a window in the long winter nights, lest some phantom escaped from her favourite legends was about to put in an appearance.

To complete the list of the notables of Werst, two more must be ineluded, and thesel not the least important, the schoolmaster and the doctor.

Magister Hermod was a big man in spectacles, about forty-five years old, having always between his lips the curved stem of his pipe with the porcelain bowl, his hair thin and disordered on a flattish head, his face hairless, with a twitching in the left cheek. His great occupation was to cut the pens of his pupils, whom he forbade to use steel pens-on principle.But how he lengthened the nibs with his old pointed pocket-knife！With what precision did he give the final touch by splitting the point！Above all, good handwriting-to that all his efforts were directed；it was to that that a schoolteacher careful to carry out his task should urge his pupils.Instruction took second place-and we know what Magister Hermod taught and what the generations of boys and girls learnt on the benches of his school.

And now to turn to Doctor Patak. Patak was a little man with a prominentcorporation, short and fat, aged about forty-five, ostensibly acting as medical adviser in Werst and its neighbourhood.With his imperturbable self-confi-dence, his deafening loquacity, he inspired no less confidence than the shepherd Frik-and that is not saying little.He dealt in eonsulta.tions and drugs；but so harmless were they that they made no worse the trifling ailments of his patients, who would have got well if left to themselves.People are quite healthy in these parts；the air is first rate and epidemic maladies unknown；if people die there it is because they have to, even in this privileged corner of Tran-sylvania.

As.. to DOctor Patak-yes, they called him doctor！-although he was accepted as such, he had had no training in medicine or pharmacy or anything else.He was merely an old quarantine attendant, whose occupation consisted in looking after the travellers detained on the frontier for health put'poses.Nothing more.That, it seemed, was enough for the easy-going population of Werst.It should be added-nor is this surprising-that Doctor Patak was a wideawake fellow, which is helpful to anyone who has to look after other people.And he believed in none of the superstitions current in the Carpathians, not even in those about the castle.He laughed at them, he made jokes about them.And when he was told that nobody had dared approach the castle from time immemorial，‘Challenge me to go and pay a visit to the old hovel！'he would say to anyone who would listen to him.

But as they did not challenge him, as they carefully kept from challenging him, Doctor Patak had never been there；and helped by credulity, Carpathian Castle stayed enveloped in impenetrable mystery.第四章导读

不一会儿，大家都知道了古堡冒烟的消息。村长拿着望远镜回家了，平台上还剩夫立可和二十多个男女老少。他们向牧羊人发问，牧羊人不厌其烦地回答着他们，并说这火是“肖尔特”点燃的。

每个人都努力地往古堡上望，大家都看到了烟。

威思特村有个旅店，老板是六十岁的叫若纳斯的犹太人，他为人热情友善，有时为人提供些贷款。他不像其他放高利贷的人那样，他收的利息没那么高，但要在规定的时间内还款。他的“马蒂亚斯国王旅馆”坐落在大街的一角，在村长科尔兹家对面。旅店只有一层，进门的大厅里面摆放着喝酒的桌凳，大厅的右边有几间小房间供旅客休息。

五月二十九日晚，村长、教师、护林员尼克·戴克、十二位主要村民还有牧羊人都聚集在旅店里开会，医生去看一个老病号。等到老病号归天后，他马上就会回来参加会议。

大家边喝酒边议论着古堡的事，由于人多，今晚老板若纳斯破例既为坐着的人倒酒，也为站着的人倒酒。从黄昏一直到晚上八点半，大家都认为事情很严重，但没有商量出一个结果来。

由于外来游客减少，使村长的税收和旅店的收入都受到了影响。有的农民还打算把土地卖掉，搬到别的地方。可现在这种情况，土地又卖给谁呢？

牧羊人觉得应该去城堡看看，若纳斯也赞成去看一下。他认为这是鲁道夫·德戈尔兹男爵走后第一次有人在里面生火。

而村长认为，可能以前也冒过烟，因没有望远镜没看到。海尔莫德老师认为里面不会有人，那么谁会躲进古堡呢？里面肯定是一些妖魔鬼怪。若纳斯不明白，那些鬼怪们在里面生火干什么。牧羊人告诉他，那些鬼怪们只有点着火才能施展巫术，教师肯定了他的说法。

到现在，牧羊人提出到古堡的建议还没有得到响应，每个人都有充足的理由来为自己开脱，因为大家都认为谁去古堡肯定不会活着回来。

这时，旅店的门开了，巴塔克医生的病人去世了，他赶了回来。医生一边和大家握手，一边嘲笑大家是一群胆小鬼。

村长提起了以前有人和他打赌，他说要去古堡的事，乡村教师也在一旁作证。医生觉得没必要提起自己曾说过的话，并对此表示厌恶。村长表示，大家并没有激他，而是请他去做。

医生有些犹豫，旅店老板看到这种情况，便说，大家不要请医生了，自己愿意向医生挑战。村长告诉大家，巴塔克医生是重承诺的，说过的事一定会去做的。医生看到大家把他的话当真了，脸色顿时变得苍白。说道：“可能是一些好人进了城堡，没必要去那里。”

乡村教师告诉他，如果是那样，就不用害怕，还可趁机给他们看看病。医生表示，自己又没得到邀请，再说出诊不是免费的。

村长告诉他，大家可以付给他钱。教师又说：医生平时不信鬼神，而且正好可以认识一下城堡里住的那些人。现在大家的身体都很好，不需要他在这里给大家看病。

医生平时嘲笑村里人迷信，自己假装英雄，现在有人出钱，他也不去。但他坚持自己并不是因为害怕，而是觉得荒唐可笑。

这时，护林员尼克·戴克表示自己愿意去，但巴塔克必须一同去。医生说自己没有说过要去，但大家都证明他说过要去。医生没办法了，后悔自己当初乱吹牛，只好答应陪尼克·戴克去一趟。

尼克·戴克告诉大家，明天上午去古堡。大家听后，一阵沉默。突然，不知从哪里传出来声音说道：“尼克·戴克，如果明天去城堡会大祸临头的！”

这声音使人们震惊，尼克·戴克找遍了屋里也没发现人。一会儿，大家都离开了旅店，若纳斯赶紧将店门关上了。n a few minutes the news the shepherd brought had spreadthroughout the village. Master Koltz, carrying the precious Itelescope, went back into his house, followed by Nic Deck and Miriota.There were now on the terrace only Frik, surrounded by about twenty men, women, and children, among whom were a few Tziganes, who were not the least excited among the Werst population.They surrounded Frik, they bombarded him with questions, and the shepherd replied with the superb importance of a man who had just seen something quite out of the ordinary.‘Yes！'he repeated，‘the castle was smoking, it's still smoking, and it will go on smoking until not one stone of it remains upon another.'‘But who could have lighted the fire？'asked an old woman, clasping her hands.‘The Chort！'said Frik, giving the devil his local name.‘And he's the sort of rascal who knows how to light a fire much better than to put it out！'

And at that reply everyone tried to see the smoke on the top of the donjon. At last most of them declared that they could make it out perfectly, although at that distance it was quite invisible.

The effect of this was unbelievable. The reader must put himself in the place of the people of Werst and then hc will not be astonished at what follows.He is not asked to believe in the supernatural, but to remember that this ignorant people believed in it without rcscrvation, To‘the mistrust inspired by Carpathian Castle, which hitherto was thought to be deserted, was to be added terror now that it seemed to be inhabited, and-good Lord！-by such beings！

Worst had a meeting-place frequented by drinkers, and even favoured by those who, without drinking, delighted in talking at the close of the day-though, needless to say, there were only a few of these. This free to all comers, was the chicf, or rather the only, inn in the village.

Who was its proprietor？A Jew of the name of Jonas, a good fellow of about sixty, having a pleasant if somewhat Semitic appearance, with his black eyes, hook nose, long lip, smooth hair, and the traditional beard. Obsequious and obliging, he willingly lent small sums to one or the other without being too particular as to security nor too usurious as regards interest, although he expected to be paid on the dates agreed by the borrower.Would to heaven that all the Jews in Transylvania were as accommodating as the innkeeper of Worst！

Unfortunately this excellent Jonas was an exception. His fellows in religion, his brethren by profession-for they are all innkeepers, selling drinks and groceries-carry on the trade of money-lenders with a bitterness that is disquieting for the future of the Roumanian peasant.The land is passing, bit by bit, from the native to the foreigner.In default of being repaid their advances, the Jews are becoming the owners of the finest farms, which have been mortgaged to their advantage：and if the Promised Land is not in Palestine, it may one day make its appearance on the maps of Tran sylvanian geography.

The inn of King Mathias-such is its same-occupied one of the corners of the terrace which crosses the main street of Werst, and was immediately opposite the biró’s house.It was an old building, half wood, half stone, much patched in places, but much covered with verdure, and of very attractive appearance.It consisted only of a ground floor, with a glass door giving access to the terrace.Inside, one first entered a large room furnished with tables for the glasses and benches for the drinkers, With a sideboard in varnished oak on which gleamed the dishes, pots and bottles, and a counter of black wood, behind which Jonas Stood ready for his customers.

Light came in through two windows in the wall facing the terrace, and two others opposite in the outer wall. of these, one was veiled by a thick curtain of climbing and hanging plants, which screened the view from outside and allowed only a little light to pass；the other when opened, gave an extensive view over the lower valley of the Vulkan.A few feet below rolled the tumultuous waters of the Nyad.On one side this torrent descended the slopes of the range from its rise on the plateau of Orgall, crowned by the castle buildings；on the other, abundantly fed by the mountain streams even during the summer, it flowed noisily along to join the Wallachian Syl, which absorbed it in its course.

On the right, adjoining the large room, a half-dozen small rooms sufficed to accommo date the few travellers who before crossing the frontier wanted to rest at the King Mathias. They were sure of a good welcome at moderate charges, from an attentive and obliging landlord, who was always well provided with good tobacco, which he bought in the best‘trafiks'of the neighbourhood.Jonas himself occupied a narrow attic, whose old-fashionedwindow pierced the flower-covered thatch, and looked out on to the terrace.

In this inn, on this very night of May 29th, there were gathered all the wiseacres of Werst-Master Koltz, Magister Hermod, the forester Nic Deck, a dozen of the chief inhabi-tants, and also the shepherd Frik, who was not the least important of these personages. Doctor Patak was abgent from this meeting of notabilities.Sent for in all haste by one of his old patients who was only waiting for him in order to pass away into the nex world, he had agreed to come to the inn as soon as the defunct no longer needed his attentions.

While waiting for the ex-quarantine attendant, the company discussed the serious events of the day, but they did not talk without eating or drinking. To some Jonas offered that kind of hasty pudding or maize pudding known as‘mamaliga'，which is not at all disagreeable when taken with new milk.To the others he offered many a small glass of those strong liqueurs which roll like pure water down Roumanian throats，‘schnapps'，costing about a farthing a glass, and espeeially‘rakiou'，a strong plum brandy, whose sale is considerable in Carpathia.

It should be mentioned that the landlord Jonas-it was the custom of the inn-served the gustomers only at the table, as he had noticed that seated consumers consume more copiously than consumers on their feet. This evening matters looked promising, for the seats were over-full；and Jonas was going from table to table, jug in hand, filling up the glasses which were continually being emptied.

It was half-past eight in the evening. They had been talking since dusk without deciding what they had better do.But they were agreed on one point, that if Carpathian Castle was inhabited by the unknown, it had become as dangerous to Werst as a powder-magazine at the gate of a town.‘It's a serious affair，'said Master Koltz.‘Very serious，'repeated the Magister, be tween two puffs of his inseparable pipe.‘Very serious，'agreed the company.‘There is no doubt，'Jonas continued，‘that the evil reputation of the cartle is doing much harm to the country round here.'‘And now，'exclaimed Magister Hermod，‘there's this thing too.'‘Strangers don't come here often，'said Master Koltz with a sigh.‘And now they won't come at all！'added Jonas, sighing in unison with the bitó.‘Some of our people will be going away，'declared one of the drinkers.‘I shall go first，'said a peasant from nearby；‘and I'll go as soon as I can'sell my vines.'‘For which you won't find any buyers, my good man，'Said the tavern-keeper.

It is easy to see what these worthies were driving at. Amid the personal terrors occasioned them by Carpathian Castle rose the anxiety for their interests so regrettably injured.If there were no more travellers, Jonas would suffer in the revenue of his inn.If there were no more strangers, Master Koltz would suffer in the returns of his tolls which were gradually getting smaller.If there were no more buyers, the owners could not sell their lands even at a loss.That would last for years, and the situation, already unsatisfactory, would get worse.Indeed, if it had been thus while the spirits of the castle had kept out of sight, what would it be now that they had manifested their presence by material acts？

Then the shepherd Frik thought he ought to say something, but in a hesitating sort of way.‘Perhaps we ought to-'‘What？'asked Master Koltz.‘Go there, master, and see.'

The company looked at each other, and lowered their eyes, and the question remained without reply.

Then Jonas, addréssing Master Koltz, took up the word：‘Your shepherd，’he said in a firm voice，‘has just pointed out the only thing we can do.’‘Go to the castle？'‘Yes, my good friends，'said the innkeeper.‘If there is a smoke from the donjon chimney, it is because somebody has made a fire, and if somebody has made a fire, it must have been a hand which lit it-'‘A hand！-unless it was a claw！'the old peasant replied, shaking his head.‘Hand or claw，'said the innkeeper，‘-what does it matter？We must know what it means. It is the first time that smoke has come out of any of the castle chimneys since Baron Rodolphe of Gortz left it.'‘But there might have been smoke without anybody noticing it，'Master Koltz suggested.‘That I won't agree to！'snapped Magister Hermod.‘But it's quite likely, all the Same，'the birópointed out，‘for we hadn’t got the telescope to watch what was happening at the castle.’

It was well said. The phenomenon might have happened frequently and escaped even the shepherd Frik, good as his eyes were.But anyhow, whether the said phenomenon were recent or not, certain it was that human beings were actually living at Carpathian Castle：-an extremely disturbing state of affairs for the inhabitants of Vulkan and Werst.

But Magister Hermod raised this objection in support of his belief.‘Human beings, my friends？You will allow me not to believe it. Why should human beings think of taking refuge in the castle？For what reason？And how did they get there？'‘What do you think these intruders are, then？'exclaimed Master Koltz.‘Supernatural beings！'said Magister Hermod in impressive tones.‘Why shouldn't they be spirits, goblins, perhaps even those dangerous lamias which look like beautiful women？'

During this enumeration all eyes were directed towards the door, towards the windows, towards the chimney of the big saloon of the King Mathias.‘And in truth the company were asking themselves if they were not about to behold one or other of these phantoms which the schoolmaster had evoked.‘However, my good friends，'Jonas ventured to say，‘if these beings are spirits I can't understand why they should have lighted a fire, for they haven't any cooking to do-'‘What about their sorceries？'asked the shepherd.‘Have you forgotten that they need a fire for their sorceries？'‘Obviously！'said the Magister in a tone which did not admit of any reply.

His word was accepted without protest, and in the opinion of all therecould be no doubt that the beings who had chosen Carpathian Castle as the scene of their operations must be supernatural and not human.

So far Nic Deck had taken no part in the conVersation. He had been content to listen attentively to what the others were saying.The old castle withits mysterious walls, its ancient origin, its feudal appearance, had always inspired him as much with curiosity as with respect.And being very brave, although he was as credulous as any inhabitant of Werst, he had more than once even shown a wish to enter its portals.

As may be imagined, Miriota had obstinately set her face against so adventurous a project. He might have had such ideas when he was free to do as he liked, yes！But an engaged man was no longer his own master, and to embark in such adventures was the act not of a lover but of a madman.But notwithstanding her prayers, the lovely girl was always afraid that the forester would make some such attempt.What reassured her a little was that Nic Deck had not formally declared that he would go back to the castle, for nobody had enough influence over him to keep him back-not even herself.She knew him to be a determined, resolute man, who would never go back on his word.If he said anything, it was as good as done.And Miriota would have been all anxiety had she suspected what the young man was thinking about.

However, as Nic Deck said nothing, the shepherd's proposal received no reply. Visit the Castle now that it was haunted？Who would be mad enough to do that？And all those present found the best reasons for not doing anything.The bit was no longer of an age to venture over so rough a road.The magister had to look after his school, Jonas to look after his inn.Frik had his sheep to attend to；and the other peasants had to busy themselves with their cattle and their crops.

No！Not one would venture and they were all telling themselves-‘Anyone who dares to go to the castle may never come back！'

At this moment, to the great alarm of the company, the door suddenly opened.

It was only Doctor Patak, and it would have been difficult to mistake him for one of those bewitching lamias of whom Magister Hermod had been speaking.

His patient being dead-which did honour to his medical acumen, if not to his talent-Doctor Patak had hurried on to the meeting at the King Mathias.‘Here he is at last！'said Master Koltz.

Doctor Patak hastily shook hands with everybody, much as if he weredistributing drugs, and remarked in a somewhat ironical tone，—‘Then, my friends, it's the castle, the Chort's Castle you're so concerned about……Oh！you cowards……But if the old castle wants to smoke；let it smoke！Doesn't our learned Hermod smoke all day long？Really, the whole country has turned pale with fright. During my visits I've heard of nothing else……So the ghosts have lit a fire up there？And why not, if they've got a cold in the head？It must seem freezing cold in May in the rooms of the donjon, unless there's some bread cooking for the next world.I suppose they want food in that place-that is if it's true that people come to life again……Perhaps they're some of the heavenly bakers heating up their oven.'

And so on, with great effrontery, in a series of jests that were much to the distaste of the Werst people.

They let him talk.

At last the bitóasked，‘And so, doctor, you don’t think it’s of any importance what’s taking place at the castle？’‘None at all, Master Koltz.'‘Didh't you say you'd be ready to go there-if any one challenged you to？'‘Me？'answered the doctor, looking somewhat annoyed at being remindedof his words.‘Yes.'Haven't you said so more than once？'asked the. magister.‘I have said so, certainly, and there's no need to repeat it.'‘But there's a need to do it！'said Hermod.‘To do it？'‘Yes, and instead of challenging you, we're satisfied to ask you to，'added Master Koltz.‘You understand-my friends-certainly-such a proposal-'‘Well, since you are hesitating，'the innkeeper told him，‘we won't ask you-we challenge you！'

“You challenge me？'‘Yes, doctor.'‘Jonas, you're going too far，'said the biró.‘There's no need to dare Patak. We know he's a man of his word.What he's said he will do-if only to render a service to the village and the wholecountry.'‘But this is serious……You want me to go to Carpathian Castle？'said the doctor, whose red face had turned quiie pale.‘You can't get out of it，'Master Koltz told him firmly.‘I beg you, my good friends-I beg you to be reasonable, if you please.'‘We are being reasonable，'Jonas replied.‘Be just, then. What is the use of my going there？What shall I find？A few good fellows who've taken refuge in the castle, and who aren't doing any harm to anyone-'‘Well，'Magister Hermod pointed out，‘if they are good fellows you've nothing to fear from them, and it will be an opportunity for you to offer them your services.'‘If they need them，'said Doctor Patak，‘if they send for me, I shouldn't hesitate-believe me-to go to the castle. But I never go anywhere without being invited and I don't pay visits for nothing.'‘You'll get paid for your trouble，'said Master Koltz，‘and at so much an hour.'‘Who'll pay me？'‘I will-we will-at any rate you like！'most of Jonas's customers chimed in.

Evidently, inspite of his bluster, the doctor was at least as big a coward as the rest of Werst. But after having posed as a freethinker, after having ridiculed the popular legends, he found it embarrassing to refuse the service he was asked to render.But to go to Carpathian Castle did not at all appeal to him, even if he were paid for his journeyl.So he tried to show that the Visit would be fruitless, that the village was covering itself with ridicule in sending him to explore the castle，‘Look here, doctor，'said Magister Herrood，‘it seems you've absolutely nothing to fear, as you don't believe in spirits？'‘No；I don't believe in them.'‘Well, then, if they aren't spirits who've returned to the castle, they are human beings who have taken up their quarters there, and you can find out who they are！'

The schoolmaster's reasoning was logical enough；it was difficult to rebut it.‘Agreed, Hermod，'said the doctor；‘but I might be detained at the castle.'‘That will mean you've been welcomed there，'Jonas replied.‘Certainly；but if my absence is prolonged, and if some one in the village wants me-'‘We're all wonderfully well，'said Master Koltz，‘and there isn't one invalid in Werst now your last patient has taken his departure for the next world.'‘Speak frankly，'said the innkeeper.‘Will you go？'‘No, I will not！'said the doctor.‘Oh！It isn't because I'm afraid. You know I haven't any faith in any of these sorceries.The truth is, I think it's absurd, and, I tell you, ridiculous……Because a smoke has come out of the donjon chimney-a smoke which may not be smoke at all！I won't go to Carpathian Castle.'‘I shall go！'

It was the forester Nic Deck who had suddenly broken into the conversation with these very words.‘You, Nic？'exclaimed Master Koltz.‘I-but on condition that Patak goes with me.'

This was a direct thrust for the doctor, who gave a jump as if to avoid it.‘You think that, forester？'said he，‘I-go with you？Certainly. It would be a nice walk for bothrof us, if it Were of any use……Look here, Nic, you know well enough there isn't any road to the castle……We can't get there.'‘I have said I shall go to the castle，'replied Nie Deck，‘and as I have said so I shall go.'‘But I-I haven't said so！'the doctor exclaimed, struggling as if someone had gripped him by the collar.‘Yes you have！'replied Jonas.‘Yes！yes！'the company agreed unanimously.

The doctor, pressed on all sides, did not know how to get out of it. Ah！how much he regretted that he had so imprudently committed himself by hisrodomontades.Never had he imagined they would have been taken seriously, or that he would have to account for them in person.……And now there was no chance of escape Without becoming the laughing-stock of Werst；and in ali the Vulkan district they would ridicule him unmercifully.He decided to accept the inevitable with a good grace.‘Well, as you wish it，'he, said，‘I'll go with Nic Deck, useless though it will be.'‘Well done, Patak！'shouted all the company at the KingMathias.‘And when shall we start, forester？'asked Doctor Patak, affecting a tone of indifference which poorly disguised his poltroonery.‘Tomorrow, ih the morning，'said Nic Deck.

These last words were followed by a long silence which showed how real were the feelings of Master Koltz and the others. The glasses were empty, as were the pots, but no one rose, no one thought of leaving the place although it was so late, nor of returning home.So Jonas thought it a good opportunity for serving another round of schnapps and rakiou.

Suddenly a voice was clearly heard amid the general silence, and these words were slowly pronounced-‘Nicolas Deck, do not go to the castle tomorrow！Do not go there or you wilt meet with misfortune.'

Who was it said this？Whence came the voice which no one recognized, and which seemed to come from an invisible mouth？It could only be the voice of aphantom, a supernatural voice, a voice from the next world.

Terror was at its height. The men dared not look at one another；they dared not even utter a word.

The bravest-and that was obviously Nic Deck-wanted to know what it all meant. Clearly it was in this very room that the words had been uttered.The forester went up to the chest and opened it.

Nobody.

He opened the door, went outside, ran along the terrace to themain street of Wcrst.

Nobody.

A few minutes later, Master Koltz, Magister Hermod, Doctor Patak, Nic Deck, Shepherd Frik, and the others had left the inn and its keeper Jonas, who hastened to double-lock the door.

That night, as if they had been menaced by some fantastic apparition, the inhabitants of Werst barricaded themselves firmly in their houses.

Terror reigned throughout the village.第五章导读

尼克·戴克和巴塔克医生于第二天九点准备启程。由于城堡冒烟和旅馆里的神秘声音，人们陷入了恐慌之中。

护林员受到了威胁，但仍然决心要去城堡。虽然他婚期临近，米柳达也恳求他别去，仍然没使他改变决心。大家都了解他的脾气，他要干的事谁也阻挡不了。

巴塔克医生也想找理由阻止他去，于是以那个警告为借口。护林员表示，那只是警告他自己的，与医生无关。于是，他们就出发了，村长用那架望远镜发现塔楼烟囱不再冒烟了，难道妖怪逃走了？

护林员身穿平时的巡逻服，头戴宽舌帽，腰间挎着大刀，背着一杆长枪。医生带着他那打五枪，三枪都不会响的火石枪。他们还带了干粮，沿尼亚德河道逆流而上。

走了一段路后，两岸变得十分陡峭，必须另选道路。护林员停下来辨别方向，这时医生想趁机说服他回去，被制止了，护林员继续向前走去，医生只好跟了上去。

他们穿过低矮的树枝，还要提防被浑身长刺的荨麻刮伤。后来尼克·戴克拿出斧子砍出一条路，他们走在厚厚的树叶上。豆荚爆裂的声音使医生很害怕。有时树枝挂住了医生的衣服，好像有人拉住了他，使他更加害怕，只有拼命跟上护林员才感到安全。

路上医生还一直劝护林员回去，尼克·戴克不听他唠叨，走到前面去。医生不敢停下，马上跟上去。下午三点，他们到了森林的边缘。

趁休息的机会，医生还是劝护林员休息完后回村里去，但护林员告诉他，今晚要在城堡睡觉。医生听到此，表示要在此和他分手回村，护林员告诉他，还是跟着自己比较安全，要不会迷路的。

这话提醒了医生，他只好说，到了城堡，如果天黑了，就不要进去了，但护林员表示会想办法进去的。医生又提了好多理由，但都没阻止住护林员。

尼克·戴克挎上枪，又开始登山。他告诉医生，现在要沿着尼亚德河右岸上到顶峰。医生怎么也阻挡不住便跟了上去。

下午四点，他们到了一片冷杉林的边缘，林子的地上长满了青苔，陡坡上的水晶石棱角锋利。由于医生的拖累，穿越过这二百米的冷杉林，他们用了三个钟头。

这时，尼亚德河变成了一股细流，已经离源头不远了，尼克·戴克一鼓作气上到了高地上。看到喀尔巴阡古堡的围墙外面有一条深深的护城沟，吊桥已被拉了起来；古堡中冷清清的，没有一个人。

医生这时也赶了上来，看到吊桥已被拉起来了，认为这么深的壕沟是没法爬过去的。尼克·戴克没理他，但也只好等明天再想办法了，这使医生感到很高兴。ext Day Nic Deck and Doctor Patak got ready to start at nine in themorning. The forester meant to climb to the Vulkan and take Nthe shortest way to the mysterious castle.

After the portent of the smoke on the donjon, after the portent of the voice heard in the saloon of the King Mathias, it is not astonishing that the people seemed out of their wits. Some of the Tziganes already spoke of leaving the district.Indoors nothing else was spoken of-and in a low voice.

Who could doubt that theie was something devilish, something suggesting the‘Chort'，in those words so threatening to the young forester？At Jonas's inn there had been about. fifty people, and these the most worthy of belief, who had all heard the strange words.To suppose that they had all been duped by some illusion of the senses was inadmissible.There could bc no doubt about this：Nic Deck had been formally warned that misfortune would overtake him if he persisted in his intention of visiting Carpathian Castle.

And yet the young forester was preparing to leave Werst, and without having to do so. Indeed, whatever advantage Master Koltz might gain in clearing up the mystery of the castle, whatever interest the village might have in knowing what was happening there, urgent efforts had been made to get Nic Deck to go back on his word.Weeping and in despair, with her beautiful eyes drowned in tears, Miriota had besought him not to persist in this adventure.Before the warning the voice had given him it had been serious enough, now it was insane.On the eve of his marriage Nic Deck was about to risk his life-and even his betrothed, who was clinging to his knees, could not hold him back.

Neither the objurgations of his friends, nor the tears of Miriota had any effect on the young forester.

And this surprised nobody. They knew his indomitable character, his tenacity, his obstinacy, if you like.He had said he would go to Carpathian Castle and nothing would stop him；not even the threat which had been made to his very face.Yes！he would go to the castle even if he never returned.

When the hour of parting came, Nic Deck pressed Miriota for the last time to his heart, while the poor girl made the sign of the thumb and first and middle fingers, according to Roumanian custom, symbolizing the Holy Trinity.

And Doctor Patak？Well, Doctor Patak had tried to get out of it, but without stlccess. All that could be said he had said……Every objection imaginable he had raised.He tried to entrench himself behind that formal injunction not to go to the castle, the one which had been heard so distinctly.‘That menace only concerns me，'said Nic Deck.‘But if anything happens to you, forester，'said Doctor Patak，‘can I get away without being hurt？'‘Hurt or not, you've promised to come with me to the castle, and you'll come because I'm going.'

Seeing that nothing would prevent his keeping his promise, the people of Werst had supported the forester in this adventure. And, much to his disgust, the doctor, feeling that he could not hold back, that it would compromise his position in the village, that it would be a disgrace for him after all his boastings, resigned himself with terror in his soul.But he was fully resolved to profit bythe least obstacle on the road to make his companion turn back.

Nic Deck and Doctor Patak set out, and Master Koltz, Magister Hermod，. Frik, and Jonas accompanied them as far as a turning out of the main road, where they stopped.

Here Master Koltz for the last time brought his telescope-which he was never without-to bear on the castle. No smoke arose from the donjon chimney, though this would have been easy to see on the clear horizon of a beautiful spring morning.Were they then to conclude that the guests, natural or supernatural, of the castle had decamped on finding that the forester was taking no heed of their threats？Some of them thought so, and this seemed to be a decisive reason for carrying the business through to a satisfactory conclusion.They shook hands, and Nic Deck, dragging the doctor after him, disappeared round the hill.

The young forester was equipped for the backwoods：laced cap with large peak, belted vest with a great knife in its sheath, baggy trousers, iron-shod boots, cartridgebelt at his waist, and long gun on his shoulder. He had the well-deserved reputation of being a firstrate shot, and failing ghosts they might meet with robbers, or even ill-disposed bears, so it was only prudent to be ready to defend themselves.

The doctor had armed himself with an old flint pistol, which missed fire three times out of five. He also carried a hatchet which his companion had given him, for it might be necdssary to hack their way through the thick undergrowth of Plesa.He wore a large country hat, and was buttoned up in a thick travelling cape, and shod with big iron-soled boots；but this heavy costume would not have kept him from running away if he got a chance.

Both he and Nic Deck carried some provisions in their wallets, so as, if necessary, to prolong the exploration.

After leaving the turning of the road, they went along the right bank of the Nyad for a few hundred yards. Had they followed the road which winds through the valleys, they would have gone too far to the westward.It would have been better if they could have followed the river, and this would have reduced their distance by a third, for the Nyad rises in the folds of the Orgall plateau.But though practicable at first, the bank was so steeply cut into byravines and barred with rocks that progress along it was impossible even to pedestrians.So they had to bear away obliquely to the left, to make their way towards the Castle after crossing the lower belt of the Plesa forests.

And this was the only side on which the castle could be approached. When it had been occupied by Baron Rodolphe de Gortz, communication between the village of Werst, the Vulkan Hill, and the Syl valley had been through a gap opened in that direction.But abandoned for twenty years to the invasions of the vegetation, and obstructed by an inextricable thicket of underwood, the trace of a footpath or a passage would be sought for in vain.

When they left the deeply-cut bed of the Nyad, which ffas filled with roaring water, Nic Deck stopped, to take his bearings. The castle was no longer visible.It would come into sight again only beyond the curtain of forests whieh stood row upon row on the lower slopes of the mountain-an arrangement common to the whole orographic system of the Carpathians.As there was no landmark, directions were not easily made out.They could only be found from the position of the sun, whose rays were lighting.up the distant crests in the southwest.‘You see, forester，'said the doctor，‘you see, there isn't even a road……or, rather, there isn't one now！'‘There's going to be one.'said Nic Deck.‘That's easy to say, Nic.'‘And easy to do, Patak.'‘So you're still determined？'

The forester was content to reply by an affirmative gesture, and started off towards the trees.

At that moment the doctor felt very anxious to retrace his steps, but his companion, who had just glanced round, gave him so determined a look that he thought it better not to hang back.

Doctor Patak still had one last hope：it was that Nic Deck would

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