It was wonderful, the mastery Satan had over time
and distance. For him they did not exist.
He called them human inventions, and said they were
artificialities. We often went to the most distant
parts of the globe with him, and stayed weeks and
months, and yet were gone only a fraction of a second,
as a rule. You could prove it by the clock.
One day when our people were in such awful distress
because the witch commission were afraid to proceed
against the astrologer and Father Peter’s household,
or against any, indeed, but the poor and the friendless,
they lost patience and took to witch-hunting on their
own score, and began to chase a born lady who was
known to have the habit of curing people by devilish
arts, such as bathing them, washing them, and nourishing
them instead of bleeding them and purging them through
the ministrations of a barber-surgeon in the proper
way. She came flying down, with the howling
and cursing mob after her, and tried to take refuge
in houses, but the doors were shut in her face.
They chased her more than half an hour, we following
to see it, and at last she was exhausted and fell,
and they caught her. They dragged her to a tree
and threw a rope over the limb, and began to make
a noose in it, some holding her, meantime, and she
crying and begging, and her young daughter looking
on and weeping, but afraid to say or do anything.
They hanged the lady, and I threw a stone at her,
although in my heart I was sorry for her; but all
were throwing stones and each was watching his neighbor,
and if I had not done as the others did it would have
been noticed and spoken of. Satan burst out
laughing.
All that were near by turned upon him, astonished
and not pleased. It was an ill time to laugh,
for his free and scoffing ways and his supernatural
music had brought him under suspicion all over the
town and turned many privately against him.
The big blacksmith called attention to him now, raising
his voice so that all should hear, and said:
“What are you laughing at? Answer!
Moreover, please explain to the company why you threw
no stone.”
“Are you sure I did not throw a stone?”
“Yes. You needn’t try to get out
of it; I had my eye on you.”
“And I—I noticed you!” shouted
two others.
“Three witnesses,” said Satan: “Mueller,
the blacksmith; Klein, the butcher’s man; Pfeiffer,
the weaver’s journeyman. Three very ordinary
liars. Are there any more?”
“Never mind whether there are others or not,
and never mind about what you consider us—three’s
enough to settle your matter for you. You’ll
prove that you threw a stone, or it shall go hard with
you.”
“That’s so!” shouted the crowd,
and surged up as closely as they could to the center
of interest.
“And first you will answer that other question,”
cried the blacksmith, pleased with himself for being
mouthpiece to the public and hero of the occasion.
“What are you laughing at?”
Copyrights
The Mysterious Stranger from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
