Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1872-02-07
THE POLES STORY.

I set out from ST. Petersburg, one
fine evening in January, to join stag
hunt, the next morning, one hundred
and thirty versts distant Five sleds,
occupied each by two hunters and
drawn by a tro5k0, flew one after the
other, like a rapid caravan, over the
grand highway which led to Moscow,
through Novgorod. Our Automedon,
his arms extended and his reins rolled
around his hands, standing like the
driver of an antique chariot, directed
his three horses, which were harnessed
abreast, one of them trotting rapidly
between the two others, who galloped
on each side. We were stretched on
the seat, lying rather than sitting, COM
fortably wrapped in our pelisses, and
we counted on sleeping there as well as
on luxuriously, cushioned ottoman.-
But we had reckoned without those ter
rible oaLkh0bi, kind of furrows, or
rather bitches wide cutters followed
in the road, deep enough for an equ1-
page to disappear entirely IN them, like
a fishing boat between the pillows of
the ocean. Thus kept awake by fire.
quent joltings, we watched-rassing on
each side of the road, after the manner
of the figures in the magic lantern
sometimes the pines or birch trees,
bending their branches like tired arms,
under the weight of the scintillating
hoar-frost sometimes the black and
uniform isb0h of a sleeping village
The night was clear and serene, and
cold in proportion. Under the silvery
rays Of the full moon, which had just
risen above the horizon, the snow
spark1ed like cloth studded with dia.
monds, sending back even to the sky
the reflection of the white shroud which
covered the earth, and gave to all ma
tulre its immaculate tint.
My bed-fellow, or rather my com
panion in the sled, was a Pole, or, al
least, Russian of Polish descent,
which was indicated sufficiently well by
the termination of his name ski, which,
as every one knows, is equivalent tic
the prefix de of nobility. He had
smoked, without saying word, as many
cigars, one after the other, as our car
avan counted sleds; then he had turned
over on his side, and [ thought hin
sound asleep, Notwithstanding the
pitching of the vehicle, when suddenly
he raised the visor of his otter-skin cap
and looking at the moon, said, with &
burst of'hoarse laughter
&C All ah There's Pan Twardow,
skill"
q Who is this Pan Twardowski -
asked s.
&C Do you see, . replied he, :" that lit
tie black man on the face of the moon
who raises his arms and opens his legs
like Punchinello ~
g Yes. VIII ~
EF Well, thut is Pan Twardowski,
Tell me the story" cried immedi
ately. g There is some legend under
meath this and I am as impatient fo1
your narrative as the Sultan of The
Thousand and One Nights was for ONT
of the tales of Scheherazade
C Very willingly, replied he, " if
can get to the end of it; but I fear tha
an oukh0bi will make me bite off m,
tongue or that the icy wind will glu,
my lips together as it has already gluet
my eyelids The night is diabolicall,
cold, and my teeth are like humps of ic,
in my mouth. !"
He lighted new segar, to make vi
the half dozen and as soon as the frs
puffs of smoke had warmed little hi
stiffened lips, he asked
" Have you read the Faust o
/ Goeth.
Yes" [ answered but only in
translation, for [ have the misfortune
| 20 be ignorant of German, as am of
thousand other things and none know
better than /, humble translator as
am OF some masterpieces, all the dis
tance which separates - la. ..
9" No matter" said he, interruptins
me, the form is of no importance i
the substanee is understood. Since yol
have read Faust, either in the origina
on ~ tne translation, you know tn
popular legend on which the great poe
of Weimar has founded his admirabl
drama. You know the history of tina
famous doctor, John Faust, born at tn
earnG time, IL - said, in Anhalt, Sua
bia, and BfaudeubBrQ, Who learned al
the sciences 81 bis time knew tragic
and who, always pushed forward by th
ardent desire 0f knowing all things AM
enjoying all things, ended by QiyiBI
himself to tbe devil, who appears IN til
shape Of little gray monk, on eondi
ion that this little monk would gratif
him ia all bis capricea during Vi yeara
at the end of which time, the soul {
Faust, IN It's turn the slave of the evi
one, should go to roast in hell the res
Of eternity This history is old in Pc
land, where we have a Faust, much al
tering to that of the Germans, whose
neck the devil wrings toward the en-
of the 18th century. Ours is called Pa
Twardowski, or, transIating in Frencl