by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER II
Count Vavel had made his fair neighbor at the manor the object of study.He had ample time for the task; he had nothing else to do. And, as hewas debarred from making direct inquiries concerning her, or fromhearing the current gossip of the neighborhood, he learned only thatabout her which his telescope revealed; and from this, with the aid ofhis imagination, he formed a conclusion--and an erroneous one, veryprobably.
His neighbor lived in strict seclusion, and was a man-hater. But, forall that, she was neither a nun nor an Amazon. She was a true woman,neither inconsolably melancholy nor wantonly merry. She proved herselfan excellent housewife. She rose betimes mornings, sent her workmenabout their various tasks, saw that everything was properly attended to.Very often she rode on horseback, or drove in a light wagon, to lookabout her estate. She had arranged an extensive dairy, and paid dailyvisits to her stables. She did not seem aware that an attentive observerconstantly watched her with his telescope from the tower of the NamelessCastle. So, at least, it might be assumed; for the lady very oftenassisted in the labor of the garden, when, in transplanting tulip bulbs,she would so soil her pretty white hands to the wrists with black moldthat it would be quite distressing to see them. Certainly this wassufficient proof that her labor was without design.
And, what was more to the purpose, she acted as if perfectly unaware ofthe fact that a lady lived in the Nameless Castle who possibly might bethe wife of her tenant. Common courtesy and the conventional usages ofsociety demanded that the lady who took up a residence anywhere shouldcall on the ladies of the neighborhood--if only to leave a card with theservant at the door. The baroness had omitted this ceremony, whichproved that she either did not know of Marie's hiding-place, or that shepossessed enough delicacy of feeling to understand that it would beinconvenient to the one concerned were she to take any notice of thecircumstance. Either reason was satisfactory to Count Vavel.
But a woman without curiosity!
Meanwhile the count had learned something about her which might be ofsome use to Marie.
He had received, during the winter, a letter from the young law studentwith whom he had become acquainted on the occasion of thevice-palatine's unpleasant visit to the castle. The young man wrote tosay that he had passed his examination, and that when he should receivethe necessary authority from the count he would be ready to proceed tothe business they had talked about.
The count replied that a renewal of his lease was not necessary. The newowner of the castle having neglected to serve a notice to quit withinthe proper time, the old contracts were still valid. Therefore, it wasonly necessary to secure the naturalization documents, and to purchase aplot of ground on the shore of the lake. The young lawyer arranged thesematters satisfactorily, and the count had nothing further to do than toappoint an _absentium ablegatus_ to the Diet, and to take possession ofhis new purchase, which lay adjacent to the Nameless Castle.
The count at once had the plot of ground inclosed with a high fence ofstout planks, engaged a gardener, and had it transformed into abeautiful flower-garden.
Then, when the first spring blossoms began to open, he said to Marie,one balmy, sunshiny afternoon: "Come, we will take a promenade."
He conducted the veiled maiden through the park, along the freshlygraveled path to the inclosed plot of ground.
"Here is your garden," he said, opening the gate. "Now you, too, own aplot of ground."
Count Vavel had expected to see the little maid clap her hands withdelight, and hasten to pluck the flowers for a nosegay.
Instead, however, she clung to his arm and sighed heavily.
"Why do you sigh, Marie? Are you not pleased with your garden?"
"Yes; I think it beautiful."
"Then why do you sigh?"
"Because I cannot thank you as I wish."
"But you have already thanked me."
"That was only with words. Tell me, can any one see us here?"
"No one; we are alone."
At these words the little maid tore the veil from her face, and for thefirst time in many years God's free sunlight illumined her lovelyfeatures. What those features expressed, what those eyes flashed throughtheir tears, that was her gratitude.
When she had illumined the heart of her guardian with this expressiveglance, she was about to draw the veil over her face again; but Ludwiglaid a gently restraining hand on hers, and said: "Leave your faceuncovered, Marie; no one can see it here; and every day for one hour youmay walk thus here, without fear of being seen, for I shall send thegardener elsewhere during that time."
When they were leaving the garden, Marie plucked two forget-me-nots, andgave one of them to Ludwig. From that day she had one more pleasure: thegarden, a free sight of the sky, the warmth of the sunlight--enjoymentshitherto denied her; but, all the same, the childlike cheerfulness fadedmore and more from her countenance.
Ludwig, who was distressed to see this continued melancholy in thechild's face, searched among his pedagogic remedies for a cure for suchmoods. A sixteen-year-old girl might begin the study of history. At thisage she would already become interested in descriptions of nationalcustoms, in archaeological study, in travels. He therefore collected forMarie's edification quite a library, and became a zealous expounder ofthe various works.
In a short time, however, he became aware that his pupil was not sostudious as she had been formerly. She paid little heed to his learneddiscourses, and even neglected to learn her lessons. For this he wasfrequently obliged to reprove her. This was a sort of refrigeratingprocess. For an instructor to scold a youthful pupil is the best proofthat he is a being from a different planet!
One day the tutor was delineating with great eloquence to hisscholar--who, he imagined, was listening with special interest--theglorious deeds of heroism performed by St. Louis, and was tracing on themap the heroic king's memorable crusade. The scholar, however, waswriting something on a sheet of paper which lay on the table in front ofher.
"What are you writing, Marie?"
The little maid handed him the sheet of paper. On it were the words:
"Dear Ludwig, love me."
Map and book dropped from the count's hands. The little maid's frank,sincere gaze met his own. She was not ashamed of what she had written,or that she had let him read it. She thought it quite in the order ofthings.
"And don't I love you?" exclaimed Ludwig, with sudden sharpness. "Don'tI love you as the fakir loves his Brahma--as the Carthusian loves hisVirgin Mary? Don't I love you quite as dearly?"
"Then don't love me--quite so dearly," responded Marie, rising and goingto her own room, where she began to play with her cats. From that hourshe would not learn anything more from Ludwig.
The young man, however, placed the slip of paper containing the words,"Dear Ludwig, love me," among his relics.
* * * * *
Since the new mistress's advent in the neighboring manor Count Vavel hadspent more time than usual in his observatory. At first suspicion hadbeen his motive. Now, however, there was a certain fascination inbringing near to him with his telescope the woman with whom he hadexchanged only written communication. If he was so eager to behold her,why did he not go to the manor? Why did he look at her only through histelescope? She would certainly receive his visits; and what then?
This "what then?" was the fetter which bound him hand and foot, was thelock upon his lips. He must make no acquaintances. Results might follow;and what then?
The entombed man must not quit his grave. He might only seat himself atthe window of his tomb, and thence look out on the beautiful, forbiddenworld.
What a stately appearance the lady makes as she strolls in her longwhite gown across the green sward over yonder! Her long golden hairfalls in glittering masses from beneath her wide-rimmed straw hat. Nowshe stops; she seems to be looking for some one. Now her lips open; sheis calling some one. Her form is quite near, but her voice stops overyonder, a thousand paces distant. The person she calls does not
appearin the field of vision. Now she calls louder, and the listening earhears the words, "Dear Ludwig!"
He starts. These words have not come from the phantom of theobject-glass, but from a living being that stands by his side--Marie.
The count sprang to his feet, surprised and embarrassed, unable to say aword. Marie, however, did not wait for him to speak, but said with eagerinquisitiveness:
"What are you looking at through that great pipe?"
Before Ludwig could turn the glass in another direction, the little maidhad taken his seat, and was gazing, with a wilful smile on her lips,through the "great pipe."
The smile gradually faded from her lips as she viewed the world revealedby the telescope--the beautiful woman over yonder amid her flowers, herform encircled by the nimbus of rainbow hues.
When she withdrew her eye from the glass, her face betrayed the newemotion which had taken possession of her. The lengthened features, thehalf-opened lips, the contracted brows, the half-closed eyes, all thesebetrayed--Ludwig was perfectly familiar with the expression--jealousy.
Marie had discovered that there was an enchantingly beautiful woman uponwhose phenomenal charms _her_ Ludwig came up here to feast his eyes. Thefaithless one!
Ludwig was going to speak, but Marie laid her hand against his lips, andturned again to the telescope. The "green-eyed monster" wanted to seesome more!
Suddenly her face brightened; a joyful smile wreathed her lips. Sheseized Ludwig's hand, and exclaimed, in a voice that sounded like a sighof relief:
"What you told me was true, after all! You did not want to deceive me."
"What do you see?" asked Ludwig.
"I see the water-monster that frightened me. I believed that youinvented a fable and had it printed in that book in order to deceive me.And now I see the creature over yonder with the beautiful lady. Shecalled to him, and he came walking on his hands and feet. Now he isstanding upright. How ridiculous the poor thing looks in his redclothes! He does n't want to keep on his hat, and persists in wanting towalk on all fours like a poodle. Dear heaven! what a kind lady she mustbe to have so much patience with him!"
Then she rose suddenly from the telescope, flung her arms aroundLudwig's neck, and began to sob. Her warm tears moistened the youngman's face; but they were not tears of grief.
Very soon she ceased sobbing, and smiled through her tears.
"I am so thankful I came up here! You will let me come again, won't you,Ludwig? I will come only when you ask me. And to-morrow we will resumeour swimming excursions. You will come with me in the canoe, won't you?"
Ludwig assented, and the child skipped, humming cheerily, down the towerstairs; and the whole day long the old castle echoed with her merrysinging.