by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER XII.
SPRING DAYS.
It was the 13th of March, 1848, the day of the popular uprising inVienna.
The Plankenhorst parlours were even on that day filled with theirusual frequenters; but instead of piano-playing and gossip,entertainment was furnished by the distant report of musketry and thehoarse cries of the mob. Every face was pale and anxious, and allpresent were eager to learn the latest news from any newcomer.
At length, toward evening, the secretary of the police departmententered. His mere outward appearance indicated but too well thatthings were going badly for the government. Instead of his officialuniform, he wore a common workman's blouse, and his face was pale andcareworn. As soon as he was recognised in his disguise, all pressedaround him for the latest tidings.
"Well, are you sweeping the streets?" asked the high official of thecommissary department, in anxious haste.
"There is no making head against the rascals," answered the secretaryin a trembling voice. "I have just left the office and only escaped bymeans of this disguise. The mob has broken into the building, throwndown the statue of Justice, and wrecked the censor's office."
"But, for heaven's sake, can't more soldiery be sent out againstthem?"
"We have soldiers enough, but the emperor will not permit any morebloodshed. He is displeased that any lives at all should have beensacrificed."
"But why ask his permission? He is too tender-hearted by far. Let thewar department manage that."
"Well, you go and tell them how to do it," returned the secretarypetulantly. "What is to be done when the soldiers fire in such a waythat a whole platoon volley fails to hit a single man? In St. MichaelSquare I saw with my own eyes the cannoneers stick their slow-matchesinto the mud, and heard them declare they wouldn't fire on thepeople."
"Heavens! what will become of us?"
"I came to give you warning. For my part, I believe the people havefixed upon certain houses as objects of their fury, and I would notpass the night in one of them for all the Rothschild millions."
"Do you think my house is one of the number?" asked BaronessPlankenhorst. The only reply she got was a significant shrug of theshoulders.
"And now I must hasten away," concluded the secretary. "I have toorder post-horses and relays for the chancellor."
"What! has it come to that already?"
"So it seems."
"And do you go with him?"
"I shall take good care not to remain long behind. And you too, madam,I should advise at the earliest opportunity--"
"I will consider the matter," returned Antoinette composedly, and shelet him hurry away.
* * * * *
JenA' Baradlay never left his room all that day. The brave who laugh atdanger little know the agony of fear that the timid and nervous mustovercome before resolving to face peril and rush, if need be, into thejaws of death. Finally, at nine o'clock in the evening, his anxietyfor Alfonsine's safety impelled him to seek her. With no means ofself-defence, he went out on the street and exposed himself to itsunknown perils. What he there encountered was by no means what he had,in the solitude of his own room, nerved himself to face. Instead ofmeeting with a violent and raging mob, he found himself surrounded byan exultant throng, drunk with joy and shouting itself hoarse in thecause of "liberty." JenA''s progress toward his destination was slow,but at last he managed to push his way into the street where thePlankenhorst house was situated. His heart beat with fear lest heshould find the building a mass of ruins. Many a fine residence hadthat day fallen a sacrifice to the fury of the mob.
Greatly to the young man's surprise, however, upon turning a corner hebeheld the house brilliantly illuminated from basement to attic, twowhite silk banners displayed from the balcony, and a popular oratorstanding between them and delivering a spirited address to the crowdbelow.
JenA' quite lost his head at this spectacle, and became thenceforth themere creature of impulse. Reaching the steps of the house, heencountered nothing but white cockades and faces flushed with triumph,while cheers were being given for the patronesses of the cause ofliberty by the throng before the house. Pushing his way into thedrawing-room, he saw two ladies standing at a table and beaming withhappy smiles upon their visitors. With difficulty he assured himselfthat they were the baroness and her daughter. The former was makingcockades out of white silk ribbon, with which the latter decorated theheroes of the people, fastening bands of the same material aroundtheir arms. And meanwhile the faces of the two ladies were wreathed insmiles.
The young man suffered himself to be swept along by the crowd untilAlfonsine, catching sight of him, gave a cry of joy, rushed forward,threw her arms about his neck, kissed him, and sank on his breast,exclaiming:
"Oh, my friend, what a joyful occasion!" and she kissed him again,before all the people and before her mother. The latter smiled herapproval, while the people applauded and cheered. They found it allentirely natural. Their shouts jarred on JenA''s nerves, but the kissesthrilled him with new life.
In the days that followed, JenA' Baradlay found it quite a matter ofcourse that he should be at the Plankenhorsts' at all hours, uninvitedand unannounced, amid a throng of students, democrats, popularorators, all wearing muddy boots, long swords, and pendent feathers intheir caps. He also found nothing strange in the fact that Alfonsinefrequently received him in her morning wrapper and with her hairuncurled, that she embraced him warmly on each occasion, and that shetook no pains to conceal her endearments either from strangers or fromfriends. It was a time when everything was permitted.
As the two turned aside one evening in their walk, to join a throng ofeager listeners who were being addressed by one impassioned speakerafter another, JenA' was startled at seeing his brother A-dA?n mount theplatform as one of the orators of the occasion. He, too, it appeared,was on the side of the people; he was one of the parliamentaryspeakers who were making their voices heard in favour of popularrights and legislative reform. His speech swept all before it; no onecould listen to his words without feeling his heart stirred and hispulse quickened. Alfonsine waved her handkerchief in her enthusiasm,but her companion was suddenly seized with a mysterious fear anddread. What premonition was it that seemed to whisper in his ear thetrue significance of that elevated platform on which his brotherstood?
When the two had returned from their stroll, weary with walking thestreets, and JenA' had been dismissed with a good-night kiss,Alfonsine, at last alone with her mother, threw her hat with itstricoloured ribbons into a corner and sank exhausted upon a sofa.
"Oh," she cried, "how tired I am of this horrid world!"