Early next morning I visited Ragz along with Captain Haralan.Marc was busied with the various formalities demanded by his marriage, whose date had just been fixed as the 1st June, within about three weeks. The Captain was anxious to do the honours of his native town, and to show me its every detail.Never could I have found a guide more conscientious, more erudite, or more obliging.

Although the memory recurred with an obstinacy which never ceased to surprise me, I did not even mention that Wilhelm Storitz about whom I had spoken to my brother.The Captain kept silent on this subject, and quite likely he never even thought about it.

We walked about the town, and at last we came to the square dominated by the Governor's Palace.Here we stopped for a moment.

‘Here's the Palace, 'Captain Haralan told me, ‘it's here that within three weeks Marc and Myra will have to appear before the Governor to ask his permission before they go to the Cathedral.'

‘To ask his permission?'I repeated in amazement.

‘Yes.It's a very ancient local custom.No marriage can be celebrated without the permission of the highest authority in the town.What's more, this authorization makes a firm bond between those to whom it is given.They are not yet married, but they are no longer merely engaged, and if some unexpected obstacle should oppose their marriage it would be impossible for them to enter into any other engagement.'

As he was explaining this remarkable custom, Captain Haralan led me along the street which ends in front of the Cathedral of St.Michael.Dating from the 13th Century, this has many features which deserve the attention of connoisseurs, and the Captain described them in detail.

‘We'll have time to visit its interior later on, 'he reminded me.

‘That will be whenever you like, 'I replied, ‘You're leading me, my dear Captain, and I'm following you.'

‘Well, let's go up to the Castle, then we'll walk around the town along the Boulevards and get home just in time for lunch.'

As we went towards the Castle we had to pass through one of the markets.It was thronged with buyers and sellers, but just as we got there there arose a din greater than would be produced by the hullabaloo of purchases and sales.

A few women had left their stalls to surround a man, a peasant who had just tumbled on the ground and found some difficulty in getting up.He seemed to be in a bad temper.

‘I tell you that somebody hit me……Somebody pushed me headlong and made me fall head over heels!'

‘But who could have hit you?'one of the women asked‘You were quite alone at the time.I could see you quite plainly from my stall.There was nobody else there.'

‘Yes there was, 'the man declared.‘He pushed me right in the chest……Devil take it, I could feel him!'

When Captain Haralan questioned this fellow he got the following explanation.The peasant had been quietly walking along when he had suddenly felt a violent shock, as if a strong man had crashed into hin, a shock so violent that it had knocked him headlong.As for saying who that aggressor was, this was quite impossible, for when he got up he had not seen anyone near him.

How much truth was there in this story?Had the peasant really received a blow as violent as it was unexpected?But a push cannot be given unless somebody gives it, even if it were only a gust of wind.Well, the air was completely calm.One thing alone was certain, that he had fallen and that his fall was completely inexplicable.

Hence all this excitement.

Then either the man must have been the victim of an hallucination or he had had too much to drink.A drunkard falls of himself, if only by virtue of the law of falling bodies.

This was undoubtedly the general opinion, although the peasant denied that he had anything to drink, and in spite of his protests he was invited a little harshly to move on.

The incident closed, we followed some streets which rose until they led us to the Castle, solidly perched on one of the crests of the hill.

Again Captain Haralan pointed out all its features, and at a word from him its main door was thrown open.Then we had to climb no less than two hundred and forty steps up the spiral staircase which leads to its roof.And as we moved along the parapet the captain showed me the features of the town.From these we passed to a discussion of its people.

‘To tell the truth, 'he anded, ‘you won't meet many poor people in our town, and no sooner does poverty appear than it's dealt with.'

‘I realise that, my dear Captain, for I know that Dr.Roderich never spares himself to help the poor.And I know too that Madame Roderich and Mademoiselle Myra are at the head of every charitable work.'

‘My mother and my sister are only doing what people in their position ought to do.To my mind charity is the most imperious of duties.'

‘No doubt, 'I added, ‘but there are so many ways of giving it.'

‘The women know its secret, my dear Vidal, and its one of their duties here below.'

‘Yes, and certainly the noblest.'

‘Finally, 'Captain Haralan continued, ‘we live in a peaceful town which political passions hardly ever trouble.Yet it's very jealous of its rights and privileges, which protect it from any infringement by the Central Government.I will admit that my fellow-citizens have only one fault.'

‘And that is?'

‘That they are somewhat inclined to superstition and that they believe too willingly in the supernatural.Ghost stories and yarns about raising the devil have a trick of pleasing them more than they ought.'

‘So, 'I suggested, ‘not Dr.Roderich—by definition a doctor ought to have a hard head—but your mother, your sister?'

‘Yes, and everybody else with them.Against that weakness, for it really is one, I've not succeeded in making any headway.Perhaps Marc will help me.'

‘So long, 'I smiled, ‘as Mademoiselle Myra doesn't lead him astray.'

Before we went down from the parapet, the Captain had reminded me that in one of the buildings I could see there was a dining-room and that in that room lunch would soon be served.So we made our way back through the town.Soon we were passing along the Boulevard Tékéli, and a few steps away I could see a mansion standing alone in the centre of its garden.Its sad appearance, as though it had been forsaken, its closed and shuttered windows which never seemed to have been thrown open, its moss-encrusted wall, formed a strange contrast with the other mansions along the Boulevard.

Through an iron gate in its railing one might have entered into a small yard planted with two willows which had died from old age.Their trunks, split by long gashes, showed the rottenness of their interior.

In the front of the building opened a door discoloured by weather.It was reached by a flight of three dilapidated steps.

Above the ground floor was a first storey, and upon the roof was a belvedere whose narrow windows were draped by thick curtains.

It did not seem that this house was inhabited, even supposing that it were habitable.

‘Who does it belong to?'I asked.

‘To a queer fellow, 'Captain Haralan replied.

‘It defaces the boulevard, 'I pointed out, ‘the town ought to buy it and pull it down.'

‘The more so, my dear Vidal, as with the house pulled down, its owner would no doubt leave the town and go to the devil—his nearest relative, if we're to believe the gossip of Ragz!'

‘Indeed?but who is this remarkable personage?'

‘A German.'

‘A German.'

‘Yes, a Prussian.'

‘And, he's called?'

Just as Captain Haralan was going to reply, the door of the house opened and two men came out.The oldest, who seemed to be about sixty, waited on the steps while the other crossed the yard and emerged through the gates.

‘Well!'Captain Haralan murmured, ‘So he's still here?I thought he'd gone away.'

As he turned round the fellow saw us.Did he know Captain Haralan?I could not doubt it, for they exchanged unmistakable looks of dislike.

I too had recognised him and when he got a few paces away, ‘So it really is him!'I exclaimed.

‘You've met that man before?'asked Captain Haralan, not without showing a little surprise.

‘No doubt about it, 'I replied, ‘I travelled with him from Budapest to Vukovar on the Dorothy.But I must say I didn't expect to find him in Ragz.'

‘And it would be better if he weren't here, 'the Captain declared.

‘You don't seem, 'I suggested, ‘to be on good terms with that German.'

‘Who could be?What's more, I've got a special reason for being on bad terms with him.As much as to tell you that he had the impudence to ask for my sister's hand in marriage.But father and I refused in such a way that he won't want to repeat his suggestion.'

‘What!so that's the man.'

‘So you knew him?'

‘Yes, my dear Captain, and I'm not unaware that I've just seen Wilhelm Storitz, the son of Otto Storitz, the illustrious chemist of Spremberg.'