A TRAMP ABROAD By Mark Twain

and the stranger said to him:

“Is there a lord Ulrich among the guests?”

“I know none of the name, so please your honor.”

Conrad said, hesitatingly:

“I did not mean a guest, but the lord of the castle, sir.”

The stranger and the servant exchanged wondering glances.

Then the former said:

“I am the lord of the castle.”

“Since when, sir?”

“Since the death of my father, the good lord Ulrich

more than forty years ago.”

Conrad sank upon a bench and covered his face with his

hands while he rocked his body to and fro and moaned.

The stranger said in a low voice to the servant:

“I fear me this poor old creature is mad. Call some one.”

In a moment several people came, and grouped themselves about,

talking in whispers. Conrad looked up and scanned

the faces about him wistfully.

Then he shook his head and said, in a grieved voice:

“No, there is none among ye that I know. I am old and alone

in the world. They are dead and gone these many years

that cared for me. But sure, some of these aged ones I see

about me can tell me some little word or two concerning them.”

Several bent and tottering men and women came nearer

and answered his questions about each former friend

as he mentioned the names. This one they said had been

dead ten years, that one twenty, another thirty.

Each succeeding blow struck heavier and heavier.

At last the sufferer said:

“There is one more, but I have not the courage to–O

my lost Catharina!”

One of the old dames said:

“Ah, I knew her well, poor soul. A misfortune overtook

her lover, and she died of sorrow nearly fifty years ago.

She lieth under the linden tree without the court.”

Conrad bowed his head and said:

“Ah, why did I ever wake! And so she died of grief for me,

poor child. So young, so sweet, so good! She never wittingly

did a hurtful thing in all the little summer of her life.

Her loving debt shall be repaid–for I will die of grief

for her.”

His head drooped upon his breast. In the moment there

was a wild burst of joyous laughter, a pair of round

young arms were flung about Conrad’s neck and a sweet

voice cried:

“There, Conrad mine, thy kind words kill me–the farce

shall go no further! Look up, and laugh with us–’twas

all a jest!”

And he did look up, and gazed, in a dazed wonderment–

for the disguises were stripped away, and the aged

men and women were bright and young and gay again.

Catharina’s happy tongue ran on:

“‘Twas a marvelous jest, and bravely carried out.

They gave you a heavy sleeping-draught before you went

to bed, and in the night they bore you to a ruined chamber

where all had fallen to decay, and placed these rags

of clothing by you. And when your sleep was spent and you

came forth, two strangers, well instructed in their parts,

were here to meet you; and all we, your friends,

in our disguises, were close at hand, to see and hear,

you may be sure. Ah, ’twas a gallant jest! Come, now,

and make thee ready for the pleasures of the day.

How real was thy misery for the moment, thou poor lad!

Look up and have thy laugh, now!”

He looked up, searched the merry faces about him

in a dreamy way, then sighed and said:

“I am aweary, good strangers, I pray you lead me to her grave.”

All the smile vanished away, every cheek blanched,

Catharina sunk to the ground in a swoon.

All day the people went about the castle with troubled faces,

and communed together in undertones. A painful hush

pervaded the place which had lately been so full of

cheery life. Each in his turn tried to arouse Conrad

out of his hallucination and bring him to himself;

but all the answer any got was a meek, bewildered stare,

and then the words:

“Good stranger, I have no friends, all are at rest these

many years; ye speak me fair, ye mean me well, but I know