A TRAMP ABROAD By Mark Twain

own castle.

Half an hour later, Hildegarde was standing in the presence

of Herr Givenaught. He heard her story, and said–

“I am sorry for you, my child, but I am very poor,

I care nothing for bookish rubbish, I shall not be there.”

He said the hard words kindly, but they nearly broke poor

Hildegarde’s heart, nevertheless. When she was gone

the old heartbreaker muttered, rubbing his hands–

“It was a good stroke. I have saved my brother’s pocket

this time, in spite of him. Nothing else would have

prevented his rushing off to rescue the old scholar,

the pride of Germany, from his trouble. The poor child

won’t venture near HIM after the rebuff she has received

from his brother the Givenaught.”

But he was mistaken. The Virgin had commanded,

and Hildegarde would obey. She went to Herr Heartless

and told her story. But he said coldly–

“I am very poor, my child, and books are nothing to me.

I wish you well, but I shall not come.”

When Hildegarde was gone, he chuckled and said–

“How my fool of a soft-headed soft-hearted brother would

rage if he knew how cunningly I have saved his pocket.

How he would have flown to the old man’s rescue! But the

girl won’t venture near him now.”

When Hildegarde reached home, her father asked her how she

had prospered. She said–

“The Virgin has promised, and she will keep her word;

but not in the way I thought. She knows her own ways,

and they are best.”

The old man patted her on the head, and smiled a doubting

smile, but he honored her for her brave faith, nevertheless.

II

Next day the people assembled in the great hall

of the Ritter tavern, to witness the auction–for

the proprietor had said the treasure of Germany’s most

honored son should be bartered away in no meaner place.

Hildegarde and her father sat close to the books,

silent and sorrowful, and holding each other’s hands.

There was a great crowd of people present. The bidding began–

“How much for this precious library, just as it stands,

all complete?” called the auctioneer.

“Fifty pieces of gold!”

“A hundred!”

“Two hundred.”

“Three!”

“Four!”

“Five hundred!”

“Five twenty-five.”

A brief pause.

“Five forty!”

A longer pause, while the auctioneer redoubled his persuasions.

“Five-forty-five!”

A heavy drag–the auctioneer persuaded, pleaded,

implored–it was useless, everybody remained silent–

“Well, then–going, going–one–two–”

“Five hundred and fifty!”

This in a shrill voice, from a bent old man, all hung

with rags, and with a green patch over his left eye.

Everybody in his vicinity turned and gazed at him.

It was Givenaught in disguise. He was using a disguised

voice, too.

“Good!” cried the auctioneer. “Going, going–one–two–”

“Five hundred and sixty!”

This, in a deep, harsh voice, from the midst of the

crowd at the other end of the room. The people near

by turned, and saw an old man, in a strange costume,

supporting himself on crutches. He wore a long white beard,

and blue spectacles. It was Herr Heartless, in disguise,

and using a disguised voice.

“Good again! Going, going–one–”

“Six hundred!”

Sensation. The crowd raised a cheer, and some one

cried out, “Go it, Green-patch!” This tickled the audience

and a score of voices shouted, “Go it, Green-patch!”

“Going–going–going–third and last call–one–two–”

“Seven hundred!”

“Huzzah!–well done, Crutches!” cried a voice. The crowd

took it up, and shouted altogether, “Well done, Crutches!”

“Splendid, gentlemen! you are doing magnificently.

Going, going–”

“A thousand!”

“Three cheers for Green-patch! Up and at him, Crutches!”

“Going–going–”

“Two thousand!”

And while the people cheered and shouted, “Crutches” muttered,

“Who can this devil be that is fighting so to get these

useless books?–But no matter, he sha’n’t have them.

The pride of Germany shall have his books if it beggars

me to buy them for him.”

“Going, going, going–”

“Three thousand!”

“Come, everybody–give a rouser for Green-patch!”

And while they did it, “Green-patch” muttered, “This cripple

is plainly a lunatic; but the old scholar shall have

his books, nevertheless, though my pocket sweat for it.”

“Going–going–”

“Four thousand!”

“Huzza!”

“Five thousand!”

“Huzza!”

“Six thousand!”

“Huzza!”

“Seven thousand!”

“Huzza!”

“EIGHT thousand!”

“We are saved, father! I told you the Holy Virgin