by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER III
At last war was declared; but it brought only days of increasedunhappiness and discontent to the tiger imprisoned in his cage at theNameless Castle--as if burning oil were being poured into his openwounds.
The snail-like movements of the Austrian army had put an end to theappearance of the apocalyptic destroying angel.
Ludwig Vavel waited like the tiger crouched in ambush, ready to springforth at the sound of his watchword, and heard at last what he had leastexpected to hear.
The single-headed eagle had not hesitated to take possession of thatwhich the double-headed eagle had hesitated to grasp.
Napoleon had issued his memorable call to the Hungarian people to asserttheir independence and choose their king from among themselves.
Count Ludwig received a copy of this proclamation still damp from thepress, and at once decided that the cause to which he had sacrificed hisbest years was wholly lost.
He was acquainted with but a few of the people among whom he dwelt inseclusion, but he believed he knew them well enough to decide that theincendiary proclamation could have no other result than an enthusiasticand far-reaching response. All was at an end, and he might as well go tohis rest!
In one of his gloomiest, most dissatisfied hours, he heard the sound ofa spurred boot in the silent corridor.
It was an old acquaintance, the vice-palatine. He did not remove hishat, which was ornamented with an eagle's feather, when he entered thecount's study, and ostentatiously clinked the sword in its sheath whichhung at his side. A wolfskin was flung with elaborate care over his leftshoulder.
"Well, Herr Count," he began in a cheery tone, "I come like the gypsywho broke into a house through the oven, and, finding the familyassembled in the room, asked if they did not want to buy aflue-cleanser. At last the watchword has arrived: 'To horse, soldier! Tocow, farmer.' The militia law is no longer a dead letter. We shallmarch, _cum gentibus_, to repulse the invading foe. Here is the royalorder, and here is the call to the nation."[3]
[Footnote 3: Written by Alexander Kisfalndy, by order of the palatine. Amemorable document.]
Count Vavel's face at these words became suddenly transfigured--like thefeatures of a dead man who has been restored to life. His eyes sparkled,his lips parted, his cheeks glowed with color--his whole countenance waseloquent; his tongue alone was silent.
He could not speak. He rushed toward his sword, which was hanging on thewall, tore it from its sheath, and pressed his lips to the keen blade.Then he laid it on the table, and dashed like a madman from theroom--down the corridor to Marie's apartment. Without knocking, heopened the door, rushed toward the young girl, raised her in his arms asif she were a little child, and, carrying her thus, returned to hisguest. "Here--here she is!" he cried breathlessly. "Behold her! Now youmay look on her face--now the whole world may behold her countenance andread in it her illustrious descent. This is my idol--my goddess, forwhom I have lived, for whom I would die!"
He had placed the maid on a sort of throne between the two bookcases,and alternately kissed the hem of her gown and his sword.
"Can you imagine a more glorious queen?" he demanded, in a transport ofecstasy, flinging one arm over the vice-palatine's shoulder, andpointing with the other toward the confused and blushing girl. "Is thereanywhere else on earth so much love, so much goodness and purity, aglance so benevolent--all the virtues God bestows upon his favorites? Isnot this the angel who has been called to destroy the Leviathan of theApocalypse?"
The vice-palatine gazed in perplexity at the young girl, then said in alow tone:
"She is the image of the unfortunate Queen, Marie Antoinette, who lookedjust like that when she was a bride."
Involuntarily Marie lifted her hands and hid her face behind them. Shehad grown accustomed to the piercing rays of the sun, but not to thequestioning glances from strange eyes.
"What--what does--this mean, Ludwig?" she stammered, in bewilderment. "Idon't understand you."
Count Vavel stepped to the opposite side of the room, where a large mapconcealed the wall. He drew a cord, and the map rolled up, revealing along hall-like chamber, which, large as it was, was filled to theceiling with swords, firearms, saddles, and harness.
"I will equip a company of cavalry, and command it myself. The entireequipment, to the last cartridge, is ready here."
He conducted the vice-palatine into the arsenal, and exhibited histerrible treasures.
"Are you satisfied with my preparations for war?" he asked.
"I can only reply as did the poor little Saros farmer when hisneighbor, a wealthy landowner, told him he expected to harvest twothousand yoke of wheat: 'That is not so bad.'"
"Now _I_ intend to hold a Lustration, Herr Vice-palatine," resumed thecount. "Here are weapons. Are enough men and horses to be had for theasking?"
"I might answer as did the gypsy woman when her son asked for a piece ofbread: 'You are always wanting what is not to be had.'"
"Do you mean that there are no men?"
"I mean," hastily interposed Herr Bernat, "that there are enough men,and horses, too; but the treasure-chest is empty, and the _Aerar_ hasnot yet sent the promised subsidy."
"What care I about the Aerar and its money!" ejaculated Count Vavel,contemptuously. "_I_ will supply the funds necessary to equip acompany--and support them, into the bargain! And if the county needsmoney, my purse-strings are loose! I give everything that belongs tome--and myself, too--to this cause!"
He opened, as he spoke, a large iron chest that was fastened with ironbolts to the floor.
"Here, help yourself, Herr Vice-palatine!" he added, waving his handtoward the contents of the chest. It was a more wonderful sight than thearsenal itself. Rolls of gold coin, sacks of silver, filled the chest tothe brim.
Herr Bernat could only stare in speechless amazement. He made no move toobey the behest to "help himself," whereupon Count Vavel himself thrusthis hands into the chest, lifted what he could hold between them of goldand silver, and filled the vice-palatine's hat, which that worthy washolding in his hand.
"But--pray--I beg of you--" remonstrated Herr Bernat, "at least, let uscount it."
"You can count it when you get home," interrupted Count Vavel.
"But I must give you a receipt for it."
"A receipt?" repeated his host. "A receipt between gentlemen? A receiptfor money which is given for the defense of the fatherland?"
"But I certainly cannot take all this money without something to showfrom whom I received it, and for what purpose. Give me at least a fewwords with your signature, Herr Count."
"That I will gladly do," responded the count, turning toward his desk,and coming face to face with Marie, who had descended from her throne.
"What are you going to do?" she asked, laying her hand on his arm.
"Write."
"Are you going to let strangers see your writing, and perhaps betray whoyou are?"
"In a week the strokes from my hand will tell who I am," he replied,with double meaning.
"Oh, you are terrible!" murmured Marie, turning her face away.
"I am so for your sake, Marie."
"For my sake?" echoed the young girl, sorrowfully. "For my sake? Do youimagine that _I_ shall take pleasure in seeing you go into battle?Suppose you should fall?"
"Have no fear on that score, Marie," returned the young man,confidently. "I shall have a guiding star to watch over me; and if therebe a God in heaven--"
"Then may He take me to Himself!" interposed the young girl in a ferventtone, lifting a transfigured glance toward heaven. "And may He grantthat there be not on earth one other Frenchwoman who is forced to prayfor the defeat of her own nation! May He grant that there be notanother woman in the world who is waiting until a pedestal is formed ofher countrymen's and kinsmen's skeletons, that she may be elevated to itas an idol from which many, many of her brothers will turn with a curse!May God take me to Himself now--now, while yet my two hands are white,while yet I cherish toward my nation n
othing but love and tenderness,now when I forgive and forget everything, and desire none of thisworld's splendor for myself!"
Ludwig Vavel was filled with admiration by this outburst from theinnocent girl heart.
"Your words, Marie, only increase the brilliancy of the halo whichencircles your head. They legalize the rights of my sword. I, too, adoremy native land--no one more than I! I, too, bow before the infinitejudge and submit my case to His wise decision. O God, Thou whoprotecteth France, look down and behold him who rides yonder, his horseankle-deep in the blood of his countrymen, who looks without pity on thedying legions and says, 'It is well!' Then, O God, look Thou upon thissaint here, who prays for her persecutors, and pass judgment between thetwo: which of the two is Thy image on earth?"
"Oh, pray understand me," in a pleading voice interposed Marie, passingher trembling fingers over Ludwig's cheek. "Not one drop of heroic bloodflows in my veins. I am not the offspring of those great women whocrowned with their own hands their knights to send them into battle. Idread to lose you, Ludwig; I have no one in this wide world but you. Onthis whole earth there is not another orphan so desolate as I am! Whenyou go to war, and I am left here all alone, what will become of me? Whowill care for me and love me then?"
Vavel gently drew the young girl to his breast.
"Marie, you said once to me: 'Give me a mother--a woman whom I canlove, one that will love me.' When I leave you, Marie, I shall not leaveyou here without some one to care for you. I will give you a mother--awoman you will love, and who will love you in return."
A gleam of sunshine brightened the young girl's face; she flung her armsaround Ludwig's neck, and laughed for very joy.
"You will really, really do this, Ludwig?" she cried happily. "You willreally bring her here? or shall I go to her? Oh, I shall be so happy ifyou will do this for me!"
"I am in earnest," returned Ludwig, seriously. "This is no time forjesting. My superior here"--turning toward the vice-palatine--"will seethat I keep the promise I made in his presence."
"That he will!" promptly assented Herr Bernat. "I am not only thevice-palatine of your county: I am also the colonel of your regiment."
"And I want you to add still another office to the two you fill soadmirably: that of matrimonial emissary!" added Count Vavel. "In thispatriarchal land I find that the custom still obtains of sending anemissary to the lady one desires to marry. Will you, Herr Vice-palatineand Colonel, undertake this mission for me?"
"Of all my missions this will be the most agreeable!" heartily respondedHerr Bernat.
"You know to whom I would have you go," resumed the count. "It is notfar from here. You know who the lady is without my repeating her name.Go to her, tell her what you have seen and heard here,--I send her mysecret as a betrothal gift,--and then ask her to send me an answer tothe words she heard me speak on a certain eventful occasion."
"You may trust me!" with alacrity responded Herr Bernat. "Within halfan hour I shall return with a reply: _Veni, vidi, vici!_"
After he had shaken hands with his client, the worthy emissaryremembered that it was becoming for even so important a personage as aHungarian vice-palatine to show some respect to the distinguished younglady under Count Vavel's protection. He therefore turned toward her,brought his spurred heels together, and was on the point of making asuitable speech, accompanying it with a deep bow, when the young ladyfrustrated his ceremonious design by coming quickly toward him andsaying in her frank, girlish manner:
"He who goes on a matrimonial mission must wear a nosegay." With thesewords she drew the violets from her corsage, and fastened them in HerrBernat's buttonhole.
Hereupon the gallant vice-palatine forgot his ceremonious intentions. Heseized the maid's hand, pressed it against his stiffly waxed mustache,and muttered, with a wary glance toward Count Vavel: "I am sorry thispretty little hand belongs to those messieurs Frenchmen!"
Then he quitted the room, and in descending the stairs had all he coulddo to transfer without dropping them the coins from his hat to thepockets of his dolman.
Marie skipped, singing joyously, into the dining-room, where the windowsfaced toward the neighboring manor. She did not ask if she might do so,but flung open the sash, leaned far out, and waved her handkerchief tothe vice-palatine, who was driving swiftly across the causeway.