by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER XXII.
A WOMAN'S HATRED.
In the Plankenhorst house another of those confidential interviews wasbeing held in which Sister Remigia and her pupil were wont to takepart.
Prince WindischgrA?tz's latest despatches had brought news of adecisive engagement in the Royal Forest near Isaszeg. At seven o'clockin the evening the ban[5] had been on the point of dealing theHungarians a final crushing blow, and the commander-in-chief had beenassured he might go to sleep with no anxiety as to the issue. It wasnot until seven in the morning that he was awakened by the ban himselfwith the announcement that he had abandoned the field to the enemy.Despatches to that effect were immediately sent to Vienna.
[Footnote 5: The victory of Croatia.]
Baroness Plankenhorst and her daughter, with Sister Remigia and Edith,sat talking over the battle of Isaszeg and the supposed victory of theAustrians. Three of the ladies were in the best of humours. In themidst of their lively discussion there came a knock at the door andRideghvAiry entered. Both of the Plankenhorst ladies hastened to meethim, greeted him with loud congratulations, and seated him in anarmchair. Then for the first time they noticed how pale he looked.
"What news from the front?" asked the baroness eagerly.
"Bad news," he replied; "we have lost the battle of Isaszeg."
"Impossible!" exclaimed Antoinette.
"Yes, it is true," declared the other.
"But why are you so certain of it?" asked Alfonsine. "People are soeasily deceived by false rumours."
RideghvAiry threw a searching glance at the speaker. "It is more than arumour, Miss Alfonsine," said he with emphasis. "What I tell you isthe truth. The messenger who brought the news was on the spot whenOtto Palvicz fell."
The colour suddenly faded from the young lady's cheeks.
"Otto Palvicz?" repeated Sister Remigia. No one else uttered the name.
"Yes," returned RideghvAiry, "the courier who was despatched to us wasan eye-witness of the encounter between Otto Palvicz and RichardBaradlay. They aimed their swords at each other's heads both at thesame time, and both fell at the same instant from their horses."
There were now two pale faces turned anxiously toward the speaker, whocontinued with cruel deliberation:
"Baradlay still lives; Otto Palvicz is dead."
Edith sank back with a sigh of relief and folded her hands as one whogives thanks in silence, while Alfonsine, her features convulsed withrage and despair, sprang up from her chair and stood looking downwildly upon the speaker. Her mother turned to her in alarm. Was sheabout to betray her carefully guarded secret? But the girl caredlittle then what she said or who heard her.
"Cursed be he who killed Otto Palvicz!" she exclaimed, with anungovernable outburst of passion; and then, overcome by her feelings,she sank down on the sofa, sobbing violently. "Oh, my dear Otto!" shemoaned, and then, turning again to RideghvAiry: "There is no one inthis city or in the whole world that can hate better than you and I.You know all: you have seen me and heard me. Is there any retributionin this world?"
"Yes," answered RideghvAiry.
"Find it for me, even if hell itself has to be searched for it. Do youunderstand me?"
"We both understand each other," was the quiet reply.
"And if at any time your hatred slumbers or your zeal slackens, cometo me."
"Never fear," returned RideghvAiry; "we shall see ourselves revenged ingood time--though the heavens fall. We will turn all Hungary into sucha scene of mourning as will live in the memory of three generations.For the next ten years black shall be the fashionable colour to wear.I hate my country, every blade of grass that grows in its soil, everyinfant at its mother's breast. And now you know me as I know you.Whenever we have need of each other's aid, we shall not fail to lendit."
So saying, he took his hat and departed without bowing to any one inthe room.
Sister Remigia, as in duty bound, sought to administer spiritualconsolation and advice to Alfonsine. "Throw yourself in youraffliction on Heaven's mercy," said she with unction, "and God willnot fail to strengthen and console you."
Alfonsine turned upon her with a wild look. "I ask nothing of Heaven'smercy," she retorted; "I have ceased to pray."
The nun folded her hands piously and sought to soothe the passionateyoung woman. "Remember," she urged, "that you are still a Christian."
"I am a Christian no longer," returned the other. "I am a woman nolonger. Just as there are creatures on earth who cease to be women,call themselves nuns, and do nothing but pray, so there are othersthat cease to be women and do nothing but curse--or worse if theycan."
Sister Remigia, shocked by these impious words, which it was sacrilegeeven to listen to, gathered up her cloak and hastened to depart,motioning to Edith to follow. But Alfonsine barred the young girl'sway and held her back.
"You are not to return to the convent," said she; "you will stay herewith us."
The pious nun did not stop to remonstrate. She was only too glad toescape from the house.
"Do you know why I have kept you?" asked Alfonsine, when the other hadgone. "I have kept you in order that I may whisper in your ear everynight, when you lie down to sleep: 'I will kill him. The man you lovehas murdered the man whom I love, and the murderer must die.' Youshall taste the despair that embitters my heart. You shall not behappy while I am miserable."
She threw herself into an armchair, weeping passionately, and Edithsought her old room.