by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER XV.
MOTHER AND SON.
JenA' had of late made his abode in the Plankenhorst house, havingformally installed himself there in the room of the footman, who hadgone to join the insurgents at the barricades. Thus the young man wasable to be in the house day and night. Extraordinary events produceextraordinary situations. The young man's cup of happiness held butone drop of bitterness,--anxious uncertainty what the morrow mightbring forth. Would the cause of the insurgents prevail, or would theybe defeated? And what would be his fate and that of the Plankenhorsts,in the latter case?
The assault had come to an end on the evening of the third day. Theinsurgents had in great part laid down their arms, only a few detachedcompanies still maintaining the unequal contest in the outlyingdistricts. The victorious army was already advancing into the cityalong its principal streets. In the Plankenhorst parlours there werebut three persons, the two ladies and JenA'. Those who had of latebeen such constant frequenters of that drawing-room were now fallenor scattered. As the military band at the head of the conqueringforces passed the house, JenA' heard heavy steps ascending the stairs.The victors were coming; they had singled out that particular house,and there was no escape. The young man nerved himself to meet anyissue--except the one actually before him.
The old family friends and acquaintances, the pre-revolutionaryfrequenters of the Plankenhorst parties, came pouring into the room,smiling with triumph, and all meeting with a hearty welcome from theladies, who seemed to take the whole affair as a matter of course, andto be affected by the sudden change of atmosphere no more than if thepast eight months, with their stirring scenes and epoch-making events,had been but a dream.
No one paid any heed to JenA' or seemed in the smallest degreeconscious of his presence, until one guest entered who was politeenough to give him a word of greeting. It was RideghvAiry. Making hisentrance with no little pomp and ostentation, he congratulated theladies with much effusion and shook a hand of each in both his own.Leaving them upon the entrance of a new guest, he sought out JenA', whowas sitting in one of the windows, a passive spectator of the scenebefore him.
"Your humble servant, my young friend," was the elder's condescendingsalutation. "Glad to find you here, for I have matters of importanceto discuss with you which may have great influence on your future.Pray be good enough to go home and await my coming."
JenA' had still spirit enough to resent this summary mode of sendinghim home. "I am at your Excellency's service," he replied. "You willnot need to go out of the house; I am living here at present,--on thethird floor, at the right as you go up."
"Ah, I didn't know that," answered the other, in surprise. "Have thegoodness, then, to wait for me there." With that his Excellencyreturned to the ladies, leaving the young man to seek his chamber inno very pleasant frame of mind.
That room, in which visions of rapture had visited the slumbers of theyouthful lover, was a paradise to him no longer. The weary humdrum ofordinary life was beginning again. What in the world could thatangular gentleman have to say to him, he wondered. He seemed longenough, in all conscience, about coming.
Suddenly the rustling of a woman's dress fell on JenA''s listening ear,and in another moment Alfonsine entered his room. She had run awayfrom the company below and had hurried up alone to her lover. Sheseemed agitated, and her coming had apparently been a sudden impulse.Falling on JenA''s bosom and embracing him, she burst out with everysign of passionate emotion:
"They want to part us!"
"Who?" asked JenA', no little disturbed by the other's manner.
"They, they!" cried she, half choked with emotion, and bursting intotears, while she clasped her lover still more closely.
JenA''s agitation increased; he became thoroughly alarmed. "Forheaven's sake, Alfonsine," he begged, "do be cautious! RideghvAiry islikely to come in at any moment, and what if he found you here?" Poor,kind-hearted youth, more careful of his sweetheart's good name thanshe herself!
"Oh, he won't come yet," she made haste to assure him. "He and mammaare having a talk, and they have decided that you must return to yourlodging at once,--that you are not to stay here a day longer. Oh, Iknow what that means; we are to be parted for ever."
JenA' was on the point of fainting; each word from his sweetheart'slips struck him with dismay. Meanwhile she continued her passionateoutburst.
"I will not be separated from you!" she declared. "I am yours, yoursfor ever, yours in life and in death, your beloved, your wife, readyto sacrifice all for you, to suffer all!"
At length she recovered her composure somewhat, and, lifting hertearful eyes to heaven, breathed a solemn vow: "To you, my friend, mylover, my all, to you or to the grave I dedicate myself. No power onearth shall tear me from you. For your sake I will leave kith and kin,abjure my faith, disown the mother who bore me, if they stand in theway of our happiness. For you I will go into exile and wander over theearth as a homeless beggar. Whatever your destiny,--be it life or beit death,--I will share it."
The exaltation of the moment quite robbed JenA' of his last bit ofreason. Was it all a dream, or was it reality, he asked himself.
Neither one nor the other, dear JenA', but an excellent bit ofplay-acting. Poor credulous youth! It is all a part of a well-laid andfar-reaching plot, of which you are the innocent victim.
After leaving her lover, Alfonsine did not return to the drawing-room,but hastened to her maid's chamber, where she learned that SisterRemigia was waiting for her in her room. First removing, with Betty'shelp, the traces of her scene with JenA', Alfonsine hurried to meet thenun.
"Is Major Palvicz here?" she demanded.
"No," answered the sister; "he only returned yesterday from hispursuit of Captain Baradlay, whom he failed to overtake."
"Did he send an answer to my letter?"
"Yes; there it is." Sister Remigia handed Alfonsine a note, and thencrossed the corridor to Antoinette's room.
Alfonsine remained behind to read her letter. She first locked herdoor, to guard against surprise, after which she sat down at her tableand broke the seal.
"Gracious lady," ran the note, "when you find what you have _mislaid_,you shall recover what you have _lost_."
At these enigmatical words the reader of the message turned pale andthe paper trembled in her hand. Her eyes rested on her porcelainlamp-shade, on which was painted the well-known picture of an angelflying heavenward with a sleeping child. The young woman gazedintently at the translucent figures, as if watching to see whither theangel would carry the little child.
Meanwhile JenA' was listening at his door for the departure of the lastguest from the drawing-room. Finally they were all gone and he wasable to speak with the baroness alone.
"Baroness," said he, "there have been great changes since yesterday.Let me hope that one thing, at any rate, has not altered,--therelation that has hitherto existed between Alfonsine and myself, withthe apparent sanction of the young lady's mother. I regard thatrelation as the very breath of my life, and I beg you, madam, to letme know whether there is any reason why I should fear adiscontinuance of your favour."
"My dear Baradlay," returned Antoinette, "you know very well that weare warmly attached to you, and in that attachment you cannot havedetected any diminution, nor shall you in the future. My daughter hasa sincere fondness for you, and thinks of no one else, while I, for mypart, could not but feel myself honoured by a tie that should connectus with the noble house of Baradlay. So far, then, there is nothing tobe said against your engagement. The late turn of events, however, hasbrought with it a change that affects you intimately; and that change,my dear Baradlay-- Do I need to speak further?"
"Really, I cannot think what you mean, madam," protested JenA'.
"You can't? H'm! What, pray, are you now?"
"What am I? Nothing at present."
"That is it exactly. Henceforth you are nothing. There are now twohostile parties, and each is striving for the mastery. In this strifeit is uncertain as yet which will win, or w
hether they may not effecta compromise; but in any event he is lost who belongs to neither side.Yet do not consider my words as a definite rejection of your suit. Weare attached to you, and wish the consummation of that which you soardently desire. I impose upon you no seven-year probation, like thatrequired by Jacob's father-in-law. So soon as you shall succeed inwinning a place in the world, so soon as you cease to be a nobody inour political and national life, I shall be the first to bid youwelcome,--whether to-morrow or next month or next year. Meanwhile youhave my best wishes."
There was nothing for the young man to do but take his lesson to heartand return to his former quarters. The baroness had told him he was anobody, and he could not dispute her. He was, moreover, forced toremember that the monthly allowance regularly forwarded to him by hismother had failed to reach him the last month, and, in consequence, hewas likely to find himself financially embarrassed within a very fewdays. There is something decidedly depressing in an empty purse.
Scarcely had he returned to the dreary atmosphere of his old roomswhen RideghvAiry paid him the honour of a call.
"In the first place," began RideghvAiry, "I have a letter to deliver toyou. It is from your mother. Put it in your pocket and read it later.For the last two weeks, as you may know, the commanding general hasdetained all mails and ordered all letters to be opened. It was anecessity of the situation--to prevent treason. On your letter Ichanced to recognise your mother's handwriting, and I was fortunatelyable to rescue it from the common fate and bring it to you. No onehas tampered with it, but it probably treats of matters that are nolonger of importance in the eyes of the government. Furthermore, thewriter will be here in person before many hours have passed."
"Is my mother in the city?" asked JenA', much surprised.
"Yes, she is here somewhere, and the reason you haven't seen herbefore is that you kept yourself at the Plankenhorsts', whither shehad her grounds for not going. But you may be sure she has sought youhere at least a dozen times, and she will come again to-day."
"But what is she doing in Vienna?"
"Nothing good, as we know but too well, alas! She came to persuadeyour brother Richard to desert with his men and return to Hungary."
"And did she succeed?"
"Yes, and a detachment of cavalry was sent in pursuit of him threedays ago. He has fled to the mountains of Galicia, whence he cannotpossibly escape on horseback over the border. Your mother, meanwhile,is here in hiding; she is one of those whom the authorities are tryingto arrest."
"Merciful heaven!" cried JenA', starting up from his chair.
"Keep your seat. Until to-morrow morning she will be in no danger. Thecity is now in the hands of the army, the civil government being asyet unorganised. There is no effective police and detective force; allthat takes time, and in the general confusion now prevailing, any onewho wishes can easily remain in hiding. But no one can leave the cityundetected, as the lines are closely drawn and every traveller isstopped and required to show a passport. Now, although I have reasonenough to feel embittered against your family, yet I cannot allow yourfather's widow to come to such an untimely end as at present threatensher. So I have provided a passport with a fictitious name for her use,and you will hand it to her when she comes. And now let us talk aboutyour affairs, my dear JenA'. You remained in Vienna after the Marchuprising, and have maintained throughout a cool and impartial attitudewhich nothing short of genius could have dictated. The espousal of acause before one can judge of its merits--much less be sure of itsultimate success--indicates weakness of judgment and a lack of mentalstability. Therefore you were quite right in holding aloof from eitherside; yet you must not continue to hide your light under a bushel. Afortunate chance has placed a very important appointment virtually inmy hands, since a testimonial from me is more than likely to decidethe choice of an incumbent. Your qualifications and ability justify mein regarding you as the fittest person to fill this position. It isthe secretaryship of our embassy to Russia."
JenA''s heart beat high with gratified self-esteem at the suddenprospect of both realising his proudest ambition and attaining hisheart's fondest desire. He had often heard his father refer to thiseminent post as the goal for which A-dA?n was to strive. His head fairlyswam at the vision so unexpectedly presented to him. In his wildestdreams he had scarcely dared soar so high.
Meanwhile the other pretended not to note the effect he had producedon the young man. Consulting his watch, he rose hastily. "I havestayed too long," said he. "Another engagement calls me. You will haveuntil to-morrow morning to consider my proposal. Weigh the matterwell, for your decision will be of no little importance as regardsyour whole future career. Look at the question from all sides, andtake your mother into your confidence if you wish; she may haveweighty arguments to urge against your acceptance. Consider them allcarefully, and then decide for yourself."
So saying, he took his leave, well knowing the impression he had madeon his plastic subject, and fully confident that the young man wouldtake good heed not to breathe a word of all this to his mother.
As soon as he had left the room, JenA' broke the seal of his letter.His monthly allowance was enclosed, and also a few lines in hismother's hand.
"My dear son," she wrote, "I have read your letter asking me to sharein your happiness and to give my love to the young woman whom you wishto make your wife. Any happiness that befalls you cannot fail torejoice me also. Rank, wealth, birth are slight matters in my eyes. Ifyou chose a bride from the working classes,--a virtuous, industrious,pure-hearted girl,--I should give you my blessing and rejoice in yourhappiness; or if you should select a spoiled creature of fashion, acoquette and a spendthrift, I should still receive your bride as mydaughter, and pray God to bless the union and turn evil into good; butif you marry Alfonsine Plankenhorst, it will be without the blessingof either God or your mother, and we shall be parted for ever."
That was a cruel thrust. How, he asked himself, had Alfonsine incurredhis mother's displeasure? What possible offence could she havecommitted? He recalled her words,--"For your sake I will leave kithand kin, abjure my faith, disown the mother who bore me,"--andremembered the passionate kisses and warm embrace that had accompaniedthe vow. And should he be outdone by her in devotion? Was his fondnessfor his mother stronger than his love for Alfonsine? Was not the onefeeling a weakness and the other a mark of manly strength? Surely hewas no longer a child. How scornfully that other mother had told himhe was a mere nobody, and bade him make a place for himself in theworld if he wished to marry her daughter! What a triumph it would beto appear before that proud woman on the morrow, with a man's fullright to claim his own!
He resolved to accept RideghvAiry's offer and to listen to no argumentor pleading by which his mother might seek to dissuade him. Biddinghis servant admit unannounced the lady who had already called a numberof times, he sat awaiting her coming. But he waited in vain, and atlast threw himself on his bed and fell asleep. His rest was troubled,however, by a succession of bad dreams.
Filled with fears for his mother's safety, JenA' hastened the nextmorning, as early as propriety would allow, to call upon RideghvAiry.
"Do you know anything about my mother?" were his first words aftergreeting his patron. "She did not come to see me yesterday."
"Yes, I know," replied the other; "she has made her escape. Themarket-woman, in whose house she hid, was arrested last night andacknowledged having accompanied your mother to the outskirts of thetown, where a carriage was waiting for her. She must be in Pressburgby this time."
These words relieved poor JenA''s breast of a heavy load. His motherwas out of danger and he was free to act for himself.
"Well, have you considered my proposal?" asked RideghvAiry.
"Yes. I have decided to accept the appointment."
RideghvAiry pressed the young man's hand. "I was sure you would," saidhe; "and, to show you my confidence in you, I have your certificate ofappointment all made out." He took an official document from histable-drawer and handed it to JenA'.
"To-morrow you will take the oathof office, and then you will be free to wind up your affairs here inVienna."
* * * * *
Luckily the Baroness Plankenhorst was up and dressed betimes thatmorning, else JenA' would certainly have sought her out in her boudoir.Hastening into the proud lady's presence, he began, without a moment'sloss of time, the speech which he had been rehearsing on the way.
"Madam," said he, "you will perhaps recall your parting words to meyesterday,--'whether to-morrow or next month or next year.' That'to-morrow' has come, and I am here,--no longer a nobody." To provehis assertion, he produced his certificate of appointment to thesecretaryship of the embassy to Russia, and handed it to the baroness.
With a look of the utmost surprise, and a smile of heartycongratulation, she received the document and read it. "I am indeeddelighted," she exclaimed, giving the young appointee her hand. "Doyou wish Alfonsine to be informed of this?"
"If you please."
The baroness had to go no farther than the next room to find herdaughter. Leading her in by the hand, she presented "the secretary ofthe Austrian legation at the court of St. Petersburg."
"Oh!" exclaimed Alfonsine, when she had somewhat recovered from herapparent astonishment; and she extended her hand with a gracious smileto the young incumbent of a twelve-thousand-florin position. Heeagerly clasped the offered hand in both his own. "It is yours now tokeep," she whispered with another smile, and then turned and hid herface in her mother's bosom, overcome, it is to be supposed, by afeeling of maidenly modesty and girlish fear.
JenA' next kissed his prospective mother-in-law's hand, whereupon sheimpressed a kiss on his forehead. Alfonsine could hardly be induced toraise her modestly downcast eyes again in the presence of the man whowas there to claim her as his bride.
"When shall we announce the engagement?" asked the mother, turning toJenA'. "To-morrow, shall we say--at twelve? Very well. And now are yousatisfied with me?"
The young man's heart beat high with triumph and happiness, as hereturned to his rooms. He felt that at last he had begun to live;hitherto he had only vegetated, but now he was entering on the fulllife of a man. Yet there was some alloy in his happiness even then.The thought of his mother, and of her disapproval of his course,refused to be banished from his mind; and though he pretended torejoice that she had escaped from the city, and had been spared thepain of a meeting and a useless conflict with him, yet his consciencewould not be deceived. Too well he knew that he was afraid to meet hismother, and was more relieved at being freed from that necessity thanrejoiced at her safe escape.
With the approach of evening poor JenA''s thoughts became such atorment to him that he prepared to go out in quest of distraction. Buton stepping before his mirror to adjust his cravat, a sight met hiseyes that made him start back in sudden fear. Reflected in the glasshe saw his mother enter the room.
"Mother!" he cried, turning toward her.
The woman before him was not the proud, commanding form that he knewso well. It was one of those sorrowing figures which we see painted atthe foot of the cross, bowed with grief and spent with watching andweeping,--the very incarnation of bitter anguish. In such guise didthe Baroness Baradlay present herself to her youngest son JenA', andat sight of her, the young man's first thought was one that gave himno cause to blush afterward. Forgetting his dread of meeting her, hethought only of the danger to which she was exposing herself in comingto him, and he put his arms around her, as if to shield her from harm.On his cheek he felt the warm kisses,--so different from those of thatother mother!
"How did you manage to come to me, dear mother?" he asked.
"I came by a long way."
"They told me you had left the city, and were in Pressburg."
"So I was. For three days I sought you in vain; then I gave up thehope of finding you, and left the city. But in Pressburg I heardsomething that made me turn back and seek you once more."
"Oh, why did you do it?" exclaimed the son. "You had but to send forme, and I would have hastened to you. Why did you not command me?"
"Ah, my son, I have forgotten how to command. I have come not tocommand, but to implore. Do not be afraid of me; do not look at me asif I were a spectre risen between you and your heart's desire. Notthus do I come to you, but only as a suppliant, with one lastpetition."
"Mother," cried JenA', much moved, "do not speak to me like that, I begof you."
"Forgive me. Only a few days ago I could have commanded my sons, butnot now. I wrote you a letter--did you receive it?--an arrogant,offensive letter. Destroy it; let it be as if it had never beenwritten. It was an angry woman that wrote it. That proud, angry womanis no more. Grievous afflictions have humbled her, and the end is notyet. She is now but a mourning widow, begging for mercy at the opengrave of her sons."
"Dear mother, your sons are still alive," JenA' interposedreassuringly.
"But do you know where they are? One of them is fighting his way overthe Carpathians to his native land, pursued, surrounded, and harassedon all sides. At his feet yawns the mountain chasm with the ragingtorrent at its bottom; over his head the storms vent their fury andthe hungry vultures wheel in circles. If he eludes his pursuers, andescapes starvation and freezing, he may, perhaps, be fortunate enoughto reach the battle-field, where my eldest son awaits his coming atthe head of a volunteer force. Do you know the sort of soldiers whocompose that force? Boys that have run away from their homes, andfathers that have left their wives and children. It is as if afeverish madness were driving every one to the field of battle, wherecertain death awaits its victims."
"But why do they thus rush to their destruction?"
"Because they cannot help themselves, in the bitter woe that oppressesall hearts."
"They may be victorious, mother."
"Oh, yes, they will be. They will win a glorious victory, but it willavail them naught. It will but bring heavier woes upon them. They willshow the world wonderful deeds of daring, and compel the admiration ofall; their star will shine brightly over all Europe, now wrapped indarkness; but it will be so much the worse for them in the end. Theirfate is already sealed by the great world-powers. If they are notprostrated by the first blow, another will be dealt them, and stillanother, until at last they succumb. I learned this in Pressburg fromintercepted letters, and it brought me back here again. How could Iresist the longing to come back and see you once more,--the last timein my life?"
"Oh, do not speak so!"
"You are going far away, and it will be a dark day for us that seesyour return. The proud and powerful have been putting their headstogether, and they have formed a plan for taking vengeance on theirmother country for the chastisement she has inflicted on them."
"Who are they?"
"Your friends and patrons. But fear not; I am not here to inveighagainst them. They are kinder to you than I am. I would point you theway to ruin; they show you the road to safety. I offer you a joylesslife of trials and afflictions; they hold out to you happiness and abrilliant career. I cannot compete with them. No, my son, you and theyare right, and we are but foolish enthusiasts, sacrificing ourselvesfor a mere nothing, an idea, a dream. May you never be able tounderstand us! Go with those who are now preparing to ally themselveswith the Russians against their own fatherland. As Hungarians, you andthey are of course pained at the necessity of invoking your oldenemy's aid against your own mother and brothers; but you do itbecause you are convinced that your mother and brothers must behumbled. The Baradlay escutcheon has received two shameful stains inthe conduct of A-dA?n and Richard. It is reserved for you to wipe outthose stains. What a brilliant refutation of all charges it will be inthe world's eyes to point to the youngest son, who atoned for thecrime of his two elder brothers by joining the party that summoned amighty power to the pacification of his misguided country!"
JenA''s face was white and he sat gazing into vacancy. They had notsaid anything to him about all this; and yet he might have perceivedit clearly enough with a
little reflection.
"There can be but one issue," continued the mother: "we are lost, butyou will be saved. Two mighty powers are more than we can withstand,be we ever so stanch and brave. Your brothers will fall sooner orlater: death is easy to find. You will then be left as the head of theBaradlay family. You will be the envied husband of a beautiful wife, aman of high rank and wide influence, the pride of the new era on whichwe are entering."
JenA''s head had sunk on his breast; his heart was no longer filledwith pride and exultation. His mother proceeded.
"The unfortunate and the helpless will come and kiss the ground underyour feet. You will be in a position to do much good, and I am sureyou will make the most of it; for you have a kind and tender heart.Among the petitions that will be laid before you, do not forget myown. You see I have come to you as the first suppliant."
Alas, how humiliated the young man felt before his mother! And themore so that she spoke not in irony, but in the gentle tones ofpleading earnest.
"Not for myself do I ask anything," she went on; "our fate will soonovertake us, and if it lingered we should, I assure you, hasten tomeet it. Your brother Richard is unmarried and so leaves no family;but A-dA?n has a wife and two children,--two dear, pretty children, theyounger only a month old. You are sure to be richly rewarded for yourgreat services. Your brothers' property will be confiscated and handedover to you."
JenA' started up in horrified protest.
"And when you are a rich and powerful man," his mother continued, "inpossession of all that we now hold in common, and when you are crownedwith honours and happiness, then, my son, remember this hour and yourmother's petition: let your brother's children never suffer want."
"Mother!" cried JenA', beside himself with grief and pain. Hastening tohis desk, he drew forth his certificate of appointment from one of itsdrawers, tore it into a hundred pieces, and then sank weeping on hismother's breast. "Mother, I am not going to Russia."
The mother's joy at these words was too great for utterance. Sheclasped her youngest, her dearest son in a warm embrace. "And you willcome with me, my boy?" she asked.
"Yes, I will go with you."
"I shall not let you follow your brothers to the battle-field. Youmust stay at home and be our comforter; your life must be spared. Iwish you to lead a happy life. May I not hope for many years ofhappiness for you?"
JenA' sighed deeply, his thoughts turning to what was now a thing ofthe past,--his bright dream of happiness. He kissed his mother, butleft her question unanswered.
"Let us hurry away from here at once," said she, rising from thesofa.
Then for the first time JenA' remembered the passport. "This passport,"said he, producing it, "was all in readiness for you had you comeyesterday; and you can still make use of it."
"Who gave it to you?" asked the mother.
"An old friend of the family, the same who procured me myappointment."
"And do you think I will accept any favour from him?" Therewith thebaroness tore up the passport and threw the fragments on the floor,among those of the destroyed certificate.
"Oh, what have you done?" exclaimed JenA' in alarm. "How will you makeyour escape? Every outlet is barred."
The other merely raised her head in scorn and triumph. "As if I couldnot put all their precautions to shame!" she exclaimed. "Get yourcloak, my son; I will take you by such a way that no man will ventureto follow us."
* * * * *
The next day RideghvAiry waited in vain for the young secretary, inorder to escort him to the place where he was to take the oath ofoffice. In vain, too, did the bride and her mother, and all theinvited guests, wait for the bridegroom to join them. He failed toappear. Surely that dreaded mother of his must have seduced him!
Whither he had vanished, and how he had made his way through thelines, remained an unsolved riddle. It never occurred to any one thatin times like those the Danube offered an excellent road for such asdared trust their lives to a frail boat, in the mist and darkness ofthe night, with two stout-hearted fishermen at the oars.