by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER XI
VALENTINE BALVANYOSSI AND TIHAMER RENGETEGI
When the beech-mast began to fall from the trees in the beginning ofOctober, unexpected guests came to us at Tordona--two country gentlemenfrom the beechwood district. They were kinsmen keeping house together,whose whole estate consisted of forest, and whose whole economy was anenormous herd of swine. They were both jolly thick-set men, with furpelisses of nicely embroidered sheepskins, and boots of red Russianleather. They had come to rent the beech-mast district in the Tordonaforests. Pig just then was an article not quoted in the market.Hungarian money there was none. It had all been destroyed. German moneyhad not yet been introduced. Pig-rearers were therefore obliged to lettheir herds go into winter quarters. The pigs in question were reallyfine fellows of the good old Szalonta breed, with legs as long asstags', red bristles and pointed ears; they were half-savage beasts,too, who faced the wolf instead of fleeing from him. They develop butslowly, however; only after two years' time do they become as large asthe Mangalicza swine. But they more than atone for this fault by thegood quality of wanting neither stall nor sty; winter and summer alikethey camp out in the woods and seek their own food, thus costing theirmasters no more than two florins a head, and three pints of_palinka_,[65] which is the perquisite of the swine-herd. Each of thesekinsmen had a thousand of such pigs.
[Footnote 65: Hungarian brandy.]
And a thousand pigs give a man a lot to think about.
They were good, genial fellows. In fact, they knew not what melancholymeant. It was now the season when the new wine was beginning to ferment.The two kinsmen used to drink it in that state, and I joined them. Itwent very well with well-peppered swine stew.
They brought a new song with them also, and I learnt it.
"The milk-pail stood behind the door, The Gendarme came, flopped in and swore! Darum-madarum, darum-madarum!"
From this song I gathered that there was now a being in the world calledGendarme,[66] and also that the Magyars had no very great affection forhim.
[Footnote 66: _Zsandar._ The name as well as the thing was quite new toHungary.--TR.]
It was only after supper that the guests began to give me to understandthat they did not yet know "whom they had the honour of addressing."
My worthy host constrained his honest features, and introduced me underthe pseudonym by which I was known in the village, "Mr. Albert Benke."
"Surely not the actress Rosa Laborfalvy's younger brother, Bebus?"
"Yes, Bebus! the very same."
(That might pass very well. Poor Bebus! he had perished in someout-of-the-way corner during the war.)
"Why, I knew him quite well! I have a lively recollection of hisfeatures. Why, 'tis Bebus, of course! And how's your sister? Is it truethat she's married?"
"So I have heard."
"To a certain Maurus Jokai, eh? Do you know him?"
"I have never spoken to him."
(And this was quite true.)
"You were one of those theatre-fellows, too, I understand?"
"Yes, I was an actor, certainly."
"I saw you once at Miskolcz. What were you playing then?"
"Claude Frollo in the _Tower of Notre Dame_."
"And won't you join some other company now?"
"I don't know whether there is one to be found."
"What! There is a troupe all ready at Miskolcz at the present moment.They mean to play at the new theatre during the coming winter, and thenthey are going to Kassa. Balvanyossi wants to put new blood into hiscompany. You know the director, Valentine Balvanyossi, don't you?"
I was just on the point of blurting out that he was from the samebirthplace as myself. He was, in fact, the person who had coached Bessyin the _role_ which she had to play with me in our second dramaticentertainment. All I _did_ say, however, was that I knew him by report.
"Anyhow, he knows you very well. He asks frequently about you. If heonly knew that you were loafing about here he would certainly come andsee you."
It only needed that!
"I was not aware that he was able to collect together another troupe."
"Oh dear, yes! Why, he's got a prima donna now. She is his wife also.Such a bonny little bride! She'll turn the heads of all the youngfellows, I know. But you're in hiding here, are you not?"
"In hiding?"
"Yes, and I tell you what--_entre nous_, of course--Balvanyossi also hasreason to make himself scarce."
"Why?"
"Why, because he played such a great part in the Revolution."
"_I_ never heard anything about it."
"Ah! but he might have been a famous man without _your_ hearing anythingabout it. You also were a comedian during the Revolution, weren't you?"
I allowed him to suppose so.
Then the second kinsman took up his parable. He was better informed thanthe first one.
"Let me make things clear to you, _amice_! During the Revolution, thetheatre director, Valentine Balvanyossi, acted under the name of TihamerRengetegi."
"Ah! yes, of course, I remember the name."
"Many a nut has he cracked beneath the very noses of the Germans."
The other kinsman confirmed the statement.
"If they can only catch him they'll make the wind cool his heels forhim."
"But that theatre director is really a most knowing rogue," explainedthe younger kinsman, with a laugh. "During the Revolution, he enteredthe service of the Hungarian Government and rose to be major. They sayhe performed prodigies. But at the same time he took the precaution tocompletely alter his personal appearance. During the Revolution he dyedhis beautiful fair hair a deep black, and carefully fostered a giganticmoustache with whiskers to correspond; in that guise he looked exactlylike Don Caesar de Bazan. When, however, things began to go wrong, hespeedily had his hair shaved off and his beard also, and is now waitingin retirement till his original fair hair has grown again. Then he willonce more come before the world as Valentine Balvanyossi; and who willdare to say that there was ever such a person as Tihamer Rengetegi?"
One really must admit that it was a stroke of genius to serve theRevolution with a black-dyed head of hair!
"When he hears that you are strolling about here he will most certainlycome and engage you."
It was necessary to put a stop to this forthwith.
"I regret that I shall not remain here very long," I said; "I, too, haveto go up to Pest."
"And what is your business at Pest?"
"I want to look out for some appointment."
At this, both the pig-Croesuses pulled a very wry face. Whoever went toPest in those days to seek an appointment was looked upon withsuspicion. It was as well to have as little as possible to do with sucha person.[67]
[Footnote 67: It was a point of honour with every loyal Hungarian tostarve rather than to accept any appointment whatsoever from theAustrian Government.--TR.]
Henceforth the pair of them treated me very superciliously.
I, however, continued to go about and paint landscapes in the vast beechforests. I have those pictures by me still. What splendid _motives_ Ihad; if only the hand of a true artist had been there to seize them! Inthe midst of the gloomy virgin forest lay the ruin of a Pauliniancloister--gigantic Gothic walls of grey granite; on the friezes of thepillars winged angel-heads; the pointed arches terminated in flowers,and these stone-flowers were supplemented by the living stone-rose,which grew luxuriantly between the mouldings. Behind the vastblue-shadowed ruin lay the dark beech forest; in front was a spring,which, in wondrous wise, bubbled forth from the roots of a hugeprostrate linden. From the summit of the ruin depended a large and amplehazel-nut tree, the foliage of which was now a reddish-brown from theautumn frost, while from the windows the dark-green chaplets of thewild-rose tree hung down in the midst of cornel-shrubs andspindle-plants variegated with scarlet, pink, and vermilion berries. Andthe floor of the ruin is covered with a tangled carpet of brownish-greenangelica. And there is but one single l
iving figure in this vast andsilent tableau. From the gloom of the ancient church porch a timidlyglancing stag peeps forth like the mythical guiding-star of theHunnic-Magyar pagan legends. Alas! thou white-antlered hind of ourancient leader Almos, whither hast thou led us? Would that thou hadstleft us in Asia! There, at any rate, we should not have been obliged tolearn German!
And then that other picture, the mighty stone of the Holy Ghost. Thiswas a rock as large as a tower, which rose from the edge of thetable-land. Close beside it were two gigantic beech-trees, whose summitsjust reached up to the middle of this rock, and Autumn, that greatdecorative artist, had touched the leaves of one with reddish-brown, andthe other with golden-yellow. On the very top of this rock are threetrees rich with verdure: how did they ever get up there?
It is possible to scramble up at the risk of one's neck, and from thenceone can see fresh pictures to paint. From the dizzy height of the rocka view into a deep valley opens out. The two lines of hill opposite areclosed up by a curved and undulating range of other hills. The settingsun lights up the hillside, and bathes the whole scene in transparentlilac mist, while the forest fringe of the summits projects in sharplydefined golden lines. Down below, the valley winds along like adark-green ribbon, and on the spot where it is lost in the evening mistis to be seen a little hut whose kitchen fire twinkles from the depthslike a blood-red star. Can any human creature be living there?
But the most magnificent landscape-motive (in which I was happilyimmersed) was the panorama which presented itself from the "PrecipiceStone." This "Precipice Stone" was the highest point of the beechmountain-district. Viewed from Tordona, it was like a projectingmountain-spar, but one could get to the top of it by making a longcircuit. This rock was generally the goal of my wanderings. It took halfa day to get there and half a day to get back, and at midday I used tokindle a fire of twigs and make a princely banquet of toasted bread andbacon; and then, sitting down on the dizzy edge of the rock, I wouldtackle the impossible artistic problem--at least it was impossible tome. Beneath my feet, in the foreground, was a dark spot formed by acrown of beech-trees, and where this ended there was a smiling littlenook, and in the midst of it tiny, smoky, stony Tordona, with itsscattered cottages, surrounded by their yellow dice-like vineyards, andtheir hills striped with green corn, above which the still darker greenbeech hills show their heads. Above these crowds the group of the GomoriHills, whose shadows are now deepening into lilac; but these again aredominated by the chain of the Trencseni and Turoczi Hills. These hillsare of a clouded blue, and above them rises, like a _fata Morgana_, theprincely range of the fair Carpathians, as blue as heaven itself, andonly to be distinguished from it by the dividing line of theirdiamond-like snowy peaks. My skill was, naturally, not equal to such atask. If I succumbed when I struggled with it, that was not my fault.
With a mighty lead-loaded oaken staff in my hand, and a sharpkitchen-knife in my roomy jack-boots, I deemed myself sufficient to copewith any wolf I might meet on the way. As for a musket, those who hadthem took good care to keep them well hidden. Rumour said that to befound with a musket was as much as a man's life was worth.
The middle of October had come.
Another guest now arrived at Tordona. This time it was a heartilywelcome guest, the merry-minded Telepi. He had come to fetch his littleCharlie that he might take him abroad for his education. He was thefavourite comic actor of the National Theatre.... He had a round face, around figure, and was all vivacity, with sparkling eyes, pointedeyebrows, and tiny pointed moustache; it was just as if he had foureyebrows and four moustaches: he was Hungarian humour personified.
'Twas he who brought me my first news from the outside world: thehorrible events of the October days, the inconceivable deeds of horrordone by a madman,[68] who was not even sufficiently punished by beingburned alive twice.
[Footnote 68: Haynau.--An allusion to the massacre of Hungarianprisoners and the brutalities inflicted on their wives.--TR.]
Fortunately, I heard these things from a joking, smiling,devil-may-care, comic mouth! For Telepi knew how to season the tidingswith so many happy anecdotes and comforting assurances that he quiteturned the edge off the murderous knife. And then he was so full ofoptimism. "Our time is coming," he would say. "England and France arehastening to our assistance. The Turks are arming, the Americans areshowing their fists." And when I shook my head at all this, he comfortedme with the assurance that an amnesty was at hand.
But when we were quite alone, and nobody else was listening, then hetold me everything frankly, and without embellishment.
My wife would have come herself, but she had been ailing; in fact shehad been very ill. She was better now. As soon as she could leave herbed she would hasten to me at Tordona. I might expect her this verymonth. My wife had a plan whereby she hoped to free me completely, sothat I should not be exposed to persecution any more. What it was,however, she could not tell me. She only begged _one_ thing of me, but_that_ she begged most earnestly, and it was this: until she came to meI was to show myself nowhere, hold no communication with anybody, letnothing be known of my whereabouts. I was not even to write a letter,for they might recognise my handwriting, and then all would be over. SoI had to solemnly promise that I would go nowhere, and speak to nobodywhatever but the good and honest men of Tordona. I gave my word upon it.
My wife sent me at the same time a warm winter overcoat, a large furcap, and a pair of double-soled Russia-leather boots. Winter wasapproaching, and I should have to spend it here among the forests.Telepi also brought me a little silver money from my wife, forbank-notes were of no use here. She also sent me some coffee. That, too,was not to be had here, and I am fond of it in the morning. In thecourse of the conversation, Telepi inadvertently let out that my wifehad sold her emeralds, had gone into pokey lodgings, and was living verysparingly. "But what's the good of fretting?" he added. "The God of theMagyars is still alive!" I shall never forget that jocose, smiling face,when, in the midst of his magnanimous assurances, a tear suddenly rolleddown his round, red countenance!
Then I gave all the pictures I had painted hitherto to Telepi, that hemight take them home to my wife.