by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER XII
THE MEETING AT THE PAGAN ALTAR
After Telepi had gone back, a deep melancholy took possession of me.
My wife was ill, and I had never even dreamt of the possibility of sucha thing. What if she were to die without being able to exchange a lastadieu? She wants to set me free, she says; but how? She cannot tell me.She cannot tell anybody. Why should she have any secrets from me? Ah!that green-eyed monster is a bad guide to the imagination. A celebratedactress can so readily find protectors. Perhaps they are men inauthority, who hold life and death in their hands. Oh, eternal darkness,do not deprive me of the light of my reason! Suppose I were to gainreadmittance into the world at such a price as that! This condition ofmind was becoming absolutely unendurable.
Sometimes the desire seized me to rush out of the forest, knock at thedoor of the first Commandant I came to, and give up my name: "I am thatnotorious rebel--take my head, I'll pay the price!"
But my given word, my word of honour, held me back. Ah! a man's word ofhonour must be kept, even though it be only given to his wife.
I had promised to go nowhere. But surely the forest is nowhere, and thatPrecipice Stone is, indeed, the most out-of-the-way nowhere in the wholeworld. Thither no man ever goes. Thither at least I am free to go.
My first, not very successful, picture of the great panorama I had sentto my wife. I would now have another try at it.
One fine autumn morning I again took up my lead-loaded stick, and saidto my dear good hostess that she was not to expect me home to dinnerthat day, as I was going to scramble up to the Pagan Altar and sketchthere.
The gentry call this rocky pinnacle the Pagan Altar; the peasants callit the Precipice Stone.
"But don't stay long," said Mrs. Csanyi; "suppose your dearest were toarrive in the meantime?"
My dearest! As if she thought of seeking me out! They only put me offwith promises, just as they tell a sick child that he shall have arocking-horse when he gets well. It was exactly seven weeks since shehad left me. What an endless time!
I made my way at once towards the linden spring, and thence up theforest hill-side by the often-trodden familiar path. The nuts cameshowering down; the frost had already tweaked the Cornelian cherries. Icrammed my knapsack full of both: I shall have a luxurious banquetto-day. I also found a large coral-coloured mushroom; roasted in embers,it would make a tit-bit worthy of a gourmet.
It was about ten o'clock when I got up to the Pagan Altar.
When I went out upon the rocky ledge, a truly wondrous scene spreaditself out before me; it was quite certain that _I_ should never be ableto paint it. The whole kingdom was under the sea! The autumn mist, likea snow-cloud, covered the whole landscape to the very horizon, fromwhich towered vast snowy peaks and snowy cupolas; in other places themisty mantle resembled frozen waves, out of which here and there roseround, blackish islands, the peaks of the higher mountains. It was afaithful image of reality: nothingness. There was nothing left now.
I could calculate pretty surely on the mist descending at midday, andpainting field and forest with frost; but till then I could sketchnothing.
So I lay down upon the rocky ledge, and marvelled at this motionless,huge, white winding-sheet which covered a whole realm. I had no thoughtof eating now. I hung up my knapsack with my bread and bacon on aspruce-fir tree, and when I had looked my fill of wonder at the sea ofmist, I watched the itinerant ants who, following their regular road,crept right over my body, never troubling themselves very much about thecircumstance that a giant, like a mountain range, lay right across theirpath.
At this height not even the thrush's whistle broke the stillness.
The sun shone down. Not a breeze was stirring. My head was resting on alarge green mossy stone; I felt like dropping off to sleep.
All at once, as if I really were dreaming, from somewhere not very faroff a song rang out:--
"Lo! on the mountain top A valiant man doth stand, And on his trusty weapon rests His stalwart good right hand."
It was a man's voice, and I seemed to recognise it.
My first feeling was joy. I was about to meet some old acquaintance inthat vast wilderness. It only occurred to me afterwards that this wouldbe contrary to my compact. I was to meet no man who could possiblyrecognise me.
But it was too late to avoid him now. Only one single path led up to thesummit of the Precipice Stone, whether one came from Tordona or fromMalyinka, and my songster was evidently coming from the latter place.
The next verse of the song sounded very much nearer:--
"Lo! on his _kalpag_[69] see A blood-red nodding plume; A mantle black surrounds his neck, His wild eye lowers with gloom."
[Footnote 69: The tall fur hat, generally plumed, which forms part of the Hungarian national costume.]
And now I heard a woman's voice also.
Some one was telling the singer not to sing while climbing.
So there was a pair of them!
And as the singer gradually mounted higher and higher, his figure alsobecame visible from behind the rocky ledge.
"Presumptuous mortal, quake and fear When thou his awful name dost hear: Diavolo, Diavolo, Diavolo!"
Yet nobody quaked so much as Fra Diavolo himself, when he perceived ahuman shape stretched before him on the ground as he scaled the verysummit of the rocky ledge.
And certainly I was not a very reassuring spectacle, as, with mysheepskin cap pressed closely to my head, and a large cudgel in my fist,I slowly rose from my knees.
I recognised him before he recognised me.
"Your servant, Balvanyossi! Why, how did you manage to get here, wherenot even the bird that flies can come?"
Then his terror was turned into joy.
"Ah, ha! my poet-friend! What a divine encounter here in Heaven above!"With that he hastened up to me and we embraced.
By this time his lady companion had also got the better of the rockyzig-zag which led up to the mountain ledge.
It was now the turn of my own heart to stop beating. That female shapewas Bessy--the sea-eyed beauty!
How came they two to be together? How came they to be both here at thesame time?
But it was no vision. The fair lady recognised me instantly. Her face,red already from her mountain scramble, could be no redder at the sightof me, nor could her bosom heave more than it was heaving now; but onher face there was a sort of holding-back expression.
Friend Valentine perceived the look of amazed inquiry on my face, andturning with true histrionic humour towards his lady-companion,introduced her to me with the words, "My grandmother!"
At this witticism the lady laughed, and I had sufficient self-controlnot to reply to this introduction with a single word.
"Then come to my bosom, my son, for I am thy grandfather."
"It is very strange we should meet here," I put in.
But my friend's features suddenly darkened as if he were obeying a stagedirection like, "here he suddenly assumes a grave face."
"First of all, my dear friend," said he, "I demand your word of honournot to reveal to any one in the created world that you have seen me. Youknow that I am now Tihamer Rengetegi till the old blonde hair grow again(what I'm wearing now is a wig); for a heavy price is fixed upon myhead. A word, and I am lost. Your _parole_ that you'll say nothing aboutme?"
"The promise must be mutual, then," I replied. "I just as solemnlyrequire you to say not a word to anybody about me, for I also am inhiding here."
At this he began to laugh. It was a stage laugh, for he placed his handon his stomach, crooked his back, and turned upon his heel, choking withlaughter.
"And you also are hiding away here from the Germans! Well, that _is_ ajoke!"
I inquired somewhat brusquely what there was to laugh at.
"Why, at your hiding--hiding away from the Imperialists. You, of allpeople! Why, don't you know, then, that very many deputies defendedthemselves before the court-martials by de
claring themselves formercontributors to your _Esti Lap_?[70] Why, every one knows that you werethe organ of the peace party at Debreczin. Every one is well aware thatyou were the ally of the Imperialists."
[Footnote 70: _Evening News_.]
At this I at once flew into a rage.
"Have you ever seen the _Esti Lap_?"
"No, I've not actually _seen_ it, but it was the general opinion amongus soldiers that you were higgling with the Imperialists."
At this Bessy intervened by giving a good tug at her friend's collar.
"Rubbish! Such rumours are only circulated by pot-house heroes likeyourself. He certainly was no traitor! Would that all who open theirmouths so loudly were as good patriots?"
My friend, with sheepish obsequiousness, hastened to readjust hisopinion to the satisfaction of his "grandmother."
"Good, good! I never believed a word of it myself--why should I?" saidhe.
"The best proof that I am not what calumny would make me is the fact ofmy meeting you here at the Pagan Altar; and again I beg of you to tellnobody that we have met."
Here Bessy again intervened.
"I'll answer for that. I shall now be constantly at the side of thishonest gentleman, and if his tongue begins to wag, my hand will be readyto stop it for him."
Mr. Valentine laughed.
"What a woman it is! She really has a most rapid hand. Not a day passesbut she lets me feel the weight of her palm."
At this I made a very critical face. My good friend could read very wellfrom it that I wished to know by what right his cheeks were allowed tofeel the force of Bessy's rosy palms day by day.
"We met together in camp, and the field-chaplain blessed our union tothe roaring of guns and the beating of drums."
That was right enough, surely!
Bessy's eyes were raised towards me as if she could add a great deal tothis short history. Friend Valentine thought it good to become loudlyenthusiastic.
"What a woman, my friend! A heroine! A perfect Jeanne d'Arc! We werebound together by a whole chain of wonders and exploits. She was not myconsort--nay! she was much more, my companion in arms. I'll tell you thewhole thing one of these days."
"That will do...."
"What? That will do? Are you, then, so poor-spirited? _I_ am ready tomeet the spectres of the darkness face to face. I'll set in motion theavalanche which shall wrench the world from its hinges."
I left him to set his avalanche in motion while I went to gather drytwigs and leaves and make a heap of them. Meanwhile Valentine declaimedto the clouds.
"What a spectacle! The whole realm a sea! We stand alone, like theco-operating Demiurges at the creation, in the face of chaos."
"Have you got your troupe together?" I inquired, thus bringing him downat once from his pedestal.
"My troupe? That's just what I am going about now. Brutus must play thefool until his day has come. But when once the hour of retributionarrives, we will rise as one man and win back our outraged liberties."
"With my bludgeon, I suppose?"
"Oh, not with that sort of thing," said friend Valentine, with haughtycondescension. "I have no secret to hide from you. An American hero offreedom has invented a weapon which, placed in the hand of a simplecitizen, will give him an irresistible advantage over the hirelingsoldiery. Its English name is 'revolver.' I have one by me. Thanks to myacquaintances beyond the ocean, I have managed to provide myself withit. Look here!"
With that he produced from his side pocket a pistol, the like of which Ihad never seen before. It was the Colt revolver, for discharging fiveshots. You loaded it in front, and with this object in view, you had toshove out the cartridge cylinder and sprinkle powder out of thepowder-flask in every loop-hole; at the end of the bullet was a nail,which had to be made firm with a cork-stopper, then the bullet had to bedriven into the barrel by means of a hammer and ramrod, then thecartridge cylinder had to be fastened down again into its place, andpyramids of priming powder piled on the top of it--while the enemy wassupposed to be looking on all the time and watching good-naturedly tosee what would come of it all.
Friend Valentine had immense confidence in his wondrous firearm.
"You can see that I am prepared for every conceivable emergency. Myfaith, I will sell my life dearly! I may tell _you_, for you will notbetray me. Beneath this Pagan Altar is a cave, the existence of which isknown only to the initiated. I have selected it for my hiding-place.When the chase against me begins, and a whole brigade of gendarmesmarches out to seize me, I will creep into this cave; victuals andbrandy for a whole week are already there for me; let them riot round methen as they like."
I could not help laughing at these wise precautions. But friendValentine's explanations became still more fiery.
"My friend! a single narrow little path leads to this cave. The bearsused possibly to resort thither in the days when bears camped in thebeech districts. If they attempt to storm me there, I can defend myselfwith this revolver against a whole host."
All this time I had been employed in piling up a nice little heap of drytwigs and leaves, which I now set on fire with my flint and steel.
Friend Valentine caught me nervously by the hand.
"What are you doing, my friend?"
"Lighting a fire, my friend."
"Why, my friend?"
"To cook bacon with, my friend."
"They will see the blaze of our fire from below."
"How _can_ they see when the mist is so thick there?"
He admitted that I was right, and allowed me to ignite my heap, whichimmediately began to crackle merrily.
Meanwhile, friend Valentine went and stood on the edge of the PrecipiceStone to watch the mist, and from time to time informed me of thechanges of scene that were going on: now the mists were beginning tobreak, now they were rising, the houses would be visible almostimmediately.
And all the time I was toasting slices of bread by the fire, and afterthat slices of bacon, allowing the bacon fat to drip gradually down andsoak through the toast with a deftness that would have done honour to aprofessional cook.
Bessy took it into her head to follow my example.
"Give me the bread and bacon out of the knapsack," said she toValentine.
"But what necessity for it is there now?"
"I must have it at once."
And with that she went up to him and began rummaging in the knapsack.
"Why, what a prosaic nature is yours!" said Valentine reproachfully tothe lady. "At such a sublime moment, too, in the presence of such aglorious spectacle! Just look at that magnificent scene! The whole ofthe cloud of mist is rising like a stage curtain. The gigantic theatreappears like magic from behind the hanging cloudy tapestries. Behold thesunlit heights, the white shimmering houses. And now a freshmountain-chain emerges crowned with dim forests. Just as if they were ofmassive gold...."
"Give me the bacon, I say."
"My heart, my blood is thine, but ask me not for bacon! Look how theearth rises up before us; nothing but mountains, mountains, mountains!Still nothing to be seen of the dome of Heaven! And that deep divinecalm around us! Only from the distant forge resounds the measured thudof the sledge hammer, as though one heard the throbbing of the heart ofthe universe! And does not thine own heart beat faster in this sublimeplace?"
"It throbs, it throbs! Right sorely does it throb! But we'll look at theaugust spectacle a little later."
"What! Not look when an instant like this is worth a world?"
The natural phenomenon before us really was very fine, as the wholemisty cloud rose swiftly from the mountains, covering with a deep shadowthe sky that up to that moment had been shining bright and blue beforeus, and at the same time unfolding before us the muffled panorama ofhill behind hill beneath our feet; the solar rays, like the broaddiverging spokes of a huge wheel, shot down from the cloudy rifts with amilky sort of glare. It would really have been a majestic scene but forthe false, disturbing pathos of friend Valentine.
"Nay, nay! I cann
ot view it standing on my feet! Here one should go downupon one's knees. Here the gods themselves walk abroad!"
Valentine plumped down upon his knees, and because Bessy would notfollow his example, he wound his arm around her and clasped her to hisbreast. She, however, was impatient at his insipid vapourings.
"You are just like that professor," said she, "who held up his oil-lampagainst the moon that his guests might see her better."
"Elizabeth!" sighed the Celadon bitterly (Bessy was a name which couldnot be emphasized with sighs so well as Elizabeth), "dost thou notremember that solemn moment when we said to one another, 'How sweet itwould be to die together this instant'? Has not our common friend said(here he looked at me), 'A good death is better than a bad life'? Come,let us verify that saying: wrapped in each other's embrace, heartthrobbing responsive to heart, a dizziness, a plunge forward from thisrock, and then a delicious flight whose goal will be the stars!"
"Go away with you! Don't make a fool of yourself! I have no wish toplunge into Heaven!"
"But I'll bear thee thither with me like a Valkyrian. And thou, myfriend, wilt immortalize our final catastrophe in a heroic ballad."
And with that he seized the lady by the arm, and rushed with her uponthe steep rocky ledge.
"Hast thou said thy prayers to-day, Desdemona?"
Bessy looked towards me with a timid look. I pretended to observenothing. What had I to do with these amorous passages? I was frizzlingbacon.
"Dost thou doubt me capable of dying with thee at this moment?" criedValentine Balvanyossi, with his wig awry over his eyes.
Then the lady cried with a supplicating voice: "Nay; but help me, dearMaurice!"
"Very well, I _will_ help you," thought I; "I did it once before, so yousay. Poets have long arms."
"Friend Valentine," said I, without rising from my squatting positionbeside the frizzling bacon, "don't you see those two men with musketscoming up this way along the mountain path?"
"Wha-a-at, two m-m-men with mus-us-kets?" said the hero, his rumblingbass-baritone voice suddenly dwindling into a piping treble. "Where arethey?" All his longing for death had instantly vanished, and heimmediately released his victim from his embrace.
I indicated the approaching strangers with my toasting-fork. "There!"
Then he also saw them.
"Br-r-rother, those are gend-end-end-armes!"
"Possibly they _are_ gend-end-armes, for there are two of them."
"Put out the fire at once!"
"I would if I could, but I can't now. And if I did, what good would thatdo? They have seen it already."
"I told you not to make a fire here."
But now Bessy turned furiously upon him.
"It is your stagey spouting that has saddled us with them. What businesshad you to go declaiming on the mountain tops? The people fancy you aremurdering some one."
"They are coming straight towards us," gasped friend Valentine. "If theyget hold of me, I am lost."
I tried to reassure him: "Come, come! recollect there are two of us;with my loaded cudgel and your revolver we shall offer a stubbornresistance."
"Br-r-other, they have guns which hit at four hundred yards, while myrevolver has only a range of thirty, and it doesn't always hit the markeven then. We cannot risk so much. It is quite another thing when I amin the dark cave, and they are out in the light, for then I can seethem, but they can't see me."
"Then you'll hide away in your cave, I suppose?"
"Oh, not for my own life's sake, but for the sake of my country, whosefate I carry in my bosom. The heels of my boots are full of secretdespatches from England and Turkey. I am not free to stake everything solightly."
"Well, go and hide yourself, by all means!"
But then Bessy put in a word: "'Tis all very well, but what's to becomeof me. I cannot crawl on all fours into your big bear-garden."
"Nor would I allow it. Is not our common friend here? He will remainhere. _You_ will not run away, will you? I am sure they don't know you.Your portrait has appeared nowhere, but mine has gone from hand to hand.A full description of my personal appearance flutters at every streetcorner. If they come, say that it was you who kicked up that row; saythat she is your wife."
"I won't say that."
"Then do what you like. I rely upon you, mind!"
"That's all very well," cried Bessy peevishly, "but what will happenafterwards? If you remain in your hole, and our good friend goes home,what am I to do all alone here by myself on the top of a rock? I shallnever find my way home through this wood."
Then my friend, with cheap generosity, made this magnanimous offer:--
"Dear friend, take her home with you."
So that was to be the _denouement_ of this odd drama!
"No, my magnanimous friend. Not so! You go and reserve yourself forposterity. We two will remain here. One of two things is bound tohappen. If those two men, armed with muskets, find me painting picturesin my album, they will believe either that I am a simple painter (theyknow that Karoly Telepi is wandering about on a sketching tour here, andthey'll take me for him, and Bessy for--my sister); or they'll notbelieve anything of the kind, and in that case they'll escort us both toMiskolcz. In the latter case you need have no fear of turning back. If,on the other hand, after the lapse of a few hours, you creep out of yourcave and see me sitting as before, on the rocky ledge, and peaceablycontinuing my sketching, then you will know that the armed invasion haspassed on further, and you can come back again to the Lady Elizabeth.Then I'll give you my blessing, and we'll return from whence wecame--you to the east, I to the west."
With this he was satisfied.
"But don't betray me!" he murmured, casting a terrified look upon us;"even though they hale you off to the block, don't say where I am."
I gave him my word of honour that not even the Spanish boot shouldextort his secret from me, whereupon he went gingerly down upon allfours, scrambled up the rocky summit by the corkscrew path, and vanishedamong the bushes.
"Ugh! I only wish he hadn't taken the bread and bacon along with him!"lamented the girl he left behind him.
"I'll share mine with you; there's enough for two."
And with that I seized my crooked clasp-knife, cut the slice of bread intwo, minced the bacon into little bits, and sprinkled it with salt andpepper.
Nor was that all. I rubbed both sides of the toasted bacon with a knobof garlic. It was a sort of Oriental language of flowers. I meant toremind her that her ideal of a man was one who did not rinse his mouthafter eating garlic.
Thus we were alone on the summit of the Pagan Altar, crouching togetherbeside a fire of burning embers, and dividing a piece of toast and aslice of bacon--I and the former mistress of my heart.
That "former" was not so very long ago. It was scarcely three yearssince the golden thrushes mingled their songs with our chats. Theidyllic contemplation of the matter, however, was considerably disturbedby the concrete circumstance that, during these three years, a thirdmasterpiece of creation had found in my former paragon the rib that hadbeen subtracted from him while he slept. Her first venture was afashionable fop, her second an Antinous of the wilderness, her third wasnow a stage Othello.
And our feelings were still further subdued by the disagreeable tensionoccasioned by the approach towards us of two armed men, who kept onpopping up before us in the clearings of the forest, now here, nowthere, but continually drawing nearer to the Pagan Altar. There couldnot now be a doubt that they were making towards us.
"It would be as well if I set to work and sketched something in my albumwhile they are approaching," said I, "in case they inquire what I amdoing here."
With that, I sat down on the steep rocky ledge, placed my sketch-book onmy knee, and designed the contours of my picture on a grand scale.
The lady sat down close beside me, and observed how I looked now on thehills and now on my paper--but never into her fine eyes.
We did not exchange a word with each other, not a single word.
>
At last, however, I grew impatient of the silence, and without lookingup from my sketch, I said to her: "I really thought that by this timeyou and Peter Gyuricza had filled the whole world full of butter andcheese."
But then, with both her hands, she seized my sketching hand, so that Ihad to leave off my work, and said, with a mournful voice:
"You have the most sovereign contempt for me now, eh? But if I were totell you what frightful calamities I have gone through since last wemet, then I am sure you would have compassion on me."
I told her that if she liked to speak, I could now listen, as I hadplenty of time.
"You remember when last we met, don't you? When you banged the door inmy face, I mean--though, God knows, I only meant to do you good then. Inever meant to make you so angry, and immediately made the best of myway home to the hut of Peter Gyuricza. Ah! how sorry I then was that Ihad not pleaded my cause with you better. I had another reason for goingto you. When the lawyers took up my case, the fair-haired partneroffered me a little money, which I might repay him, he said, when Igained my suit. But I chose to ride the high horse, and rejected theproffered money, although I had really nothing about me but three_huszases_,[71] which I had saved from the proceeds of the butter. Thatwas not even enough for the steam-boat. A couple of florins or so wouldhave done. But, of course, when you drove me out of your room I had todo without."
[Footnote 71: The _husza_--20 kreutzers.]
"I am very sorry that I did not guess your need."
"Still more sorry was I. I was obliged, in my straits, to climb into thecart of a poulterer who was going to Vienna, and who, for two of my_huszases_, found a place for me among the hen-coops. I still had a few_garashes_[72] for my journey, which were sufficient to pay for thestraw on which I slept at the inns where we descended. On the third dayI arrived safely at Uj-Szony, and by that time I had eaten the last bitof bread and cheese in my basket. In front of the inn stood a lame andparalysed beggar, who begged alms of me in God's name. I had only twokreutzers still left. I kept back one kreutzer from the beggar, for Iknew that I should have to pay a toll on the bridge. Now, that was yourfault, look you. You might have inserted a paragraph in the TwelveArticles of Pest abolishing the tolls."
[Footnote 72: A _garash_--3 kreutzers.]
I was furious. I had to erase half my drawing. Bessy laughed at mymisfortune, and at her own also. Then she proceeded:--
"From thence I had to make my way home on foot. I could go right alongby the banks of the Danube without entering the town. I did not meet asingle acquaintance. In front of me I saw a large group of NationalGuards in blue attilas, hastening rapidly towards the fortress amidstthe beating of drums. It must have been a serious business whichprevented them from looking at a pretty woman. Then I went nicely andquietly along the well-known way. Like the egg-selling woman in thefairy-tale, I began to consider what I would do when I got back mypatrimony. I would go with my Gyuricza right away into Transylvania,there I would buy him a property, where he might rear as many cattle ashe liked. I myself would learn to spin like the Pakular[73] women: myhusband should wear clothes of my own weaving. I would adorn mybedchamber with embroidered napkins, hang varnished vases all round, andthere should be rows of pewter dishes on every shelf. We should have ourplum-orchard too, and from the plums I would make _palinka_. I wouldkeep bees, and make mead, and bake honey-cakes, which Peter loves somuch when he can get them at the fair. All this time I had never noticedthat I was getting quite close to the hut. It was drawing towardsevening, and smoke was coming from the chimney. No doubt the littleserving-maid was cooking supper according to my directions. Howsurprised Peter would be when I brought his flesh-pot out to him in thepastures! When I entered the hut I found by the hearth--nobody. I wentinto the room. What do I see? My Peter Gyuricza sitting at thetable--with his wife; and they were supping sweetly together out of thesame dish, like two turtle-doves!"
[Footnote 73: A village in Transylvania, chiefly inhabited byWallachs.--TR.]
("Aha!" I murmured, "poetic justice with a vengeance; I myself could nothave devised a happier _denouement_.")
"Everything became green and blue before my eyes. My throat contracted.I was incapable of uttering a word. But the tongue of the little peasantwoman wagged all the brisker. No sooner did she see me than she bouncedfrom her place, cocked her _haube_ on the side of her head, stuck herarms akimbo, and fell foul of me.
"'Ah, ha! my dear precious lady! I suppose 'tis Carnival time, since youcome masquerading hither like that! Perhaps you've come because you'velost something here, eh? A shawl, perhaps? A very pretty littleladyship, that I _will_ say! Haven't you got a nice enough lord andmaster of your own at home? Must you befool the poor peasant also? Or ifyour lawful husband is not enough for you, can't you go and chooseanother from among the cavaliers of your own rank? You hanker afterlaying your little stuck-up noddle on my patch-pillow, eh? You ought tobe ashamed of yourself!'
"I was dumbfoundered. This face of a fury, with the eyes sticking out ofits head, robbed me of all my pluck. In my despair and doubt I looked atPeter.
"He all this time was sitting with his elbows on the table andswallowing one dumpling after another.
"'Is this justice, Peter?' stammered I, half-sobbing; 'will you let mebe treated like this?'
"At this he struck the table with his fist a mighty blow and roared athis wife: 'Woman! Shut up! Hold your tongue! Sit down at that table andfill your stomach! I'll speak now.'
"The woman sulked in silence, but, even while her husband was speaking,she could not forbear putting in a word or two here and there, such as:'She has worn out my dress, too!--I didn't steal that! My lovely chintzdress! How she has rumpled it! Just as if she had been tumbling it aboutin every pot-house!'
"But Peter spoke very sagely.
"'My lady, I beg pardon! I know what honour is. I was once a soldier. Iknow my duty. What won't match can't match. A horse and an ox won't drawtogether. A peasant woman's meet for a peasant, a lady's meet for agentleman. Now did I ever so much as raise my little finger to yourladyship? You know I didn't. And yet how many times haven't you ruinedthe butter? You never moistened the maize. The pigs wouldn't eat itbecause it set their teeth on edge, for you threw them hard raw grain.This won't do, you know! When the cows calve, who'll be there to see tothem? And who is there to clean out the furnace? The mice have gnawedaway the sleeves of my jacket, it's all in rags. Besides that, I havegot into the way of saying, "Hie, you Jutka! d'ye hear?" and then sheknows very well what her duty is; and when I strike her she makes nobones about it, either. I couldn't live without thrashing heroccasionally; it does my back good, which would else grow double; andshe always knows how to come round me again.'"
I threw my sketch-book and my palette out of my hand, and flung myselfdown on my back, I laughed so much. How could I help laughing? Bessylaughed too.
"I can laugh mightily at it now, but situated as I was then, his wordswere so many lashes. At last I flew into a rage and attacked Peter.
"'Can't you say straight out that Muki Bagotay has bribed you to takeback your wife, whom you drove away on his account?'
"'Oh, I humbly beg your pardon, you must not say that I am bribed. I aman upright man. His honour, my lord Bagotay, gave me ten head of oxen asa gift, but he didn't bribe me.'
"My heart was ready to break at these words.
"Ten head of oxen indeed! For the sake of this peasant I had sacrificedmy whole existence, the world in which I had hitherto lived, the respectof my acquaintances, my ease and comfort. I had made the earnest resolveto become a peasant woman for his sake, to work, do without things,suffer penury, and when once I had recovered my property, to give it allto him, make him a gentleman according to _his_ notion of a gentleman,and the wretched creature had bartered me for ten oxen!"
I hastened to explain to Bessy that this was really the legallyappointed fine for adultery in case the affair came to be settled.Verboczy[74] says: "_Raptor solvat decem juvencos._"--"The seducer mustpay ten o
xen."
[Footnote 74: The great Hungarian jurist (1460-1541), and one of themost eminent statesmen of his day. His _opus magnum_, entitled"Tripartitum opus juris consultudinarii inclyti regni Hungariae," wasfirst published in 1517.--TR.]
Bessy then proceeded:--
"Peter next began to give me counsels worthy of a patriarch.
"'My lady, I've only one thing to say. Go back to his lordship. God's mywitness that nothing will befall you. Say now, Jutka--come, on your soulbe honest--have I so much as touched you with my little finger since youcame back? His lordship, too, knows all about it. He will close one eye.Let's look upon the matter as if he and I had been wrestling together,and first one had had a fall and then the other. One box on the earsdeserves another. So it is among men of honour!'"
"Oh, don't make me laugh so, or I cannot go on sketching!" said I toBessy, with the tears in my eyes.
"I don't know what you can find to laugh at, I could cry for vexationeven now."
"Why, that of itself is enough to make one laugh!"
Bessy continued:--
"But then the woman began talking nicely to me, which was ever so muchworse. 'Come, come, my dear, good, pretty lady, have respect for yournice, handsome, lawful lord. Why, what a fine gentleman it is! Why, if Ihadn't my Peter ...'
"'You manage to forget that, though, pretty often!' intervened Peter.
"The long and short of it all was that I had to resume the clothes I hadleft behind me, and restore to Jutka the draggle-tail rags which she hadcharged me with spoiling. But what objection could I make? What belongsto another is his, so I began to strip off my frock and neckerchiefbefore the pair of them straightaway.
"The other woman then got a bit ashamed on my account. 'Let us go intothe inner room,' said she; and drew me into the little chamber, and tookout of her wardrobe the lordly raiment I had left there, and then helpedme to dress. And all the time she was so mild, so friendly, and quitelost herself in rustic caresses and flatteries: 'Why, what a nice slimwaist! What a shame that a mere clown should clasp it round! What lovelywhite shoulders! What a sin to ruin them by carrying about heavy loads!And how swollen the little feet are from much walking! Why, they'llscarcely go into the old dress-boot, I do declare! Why fly into suchtantrums about such trifles! Good gracious me! suppose every lady whocaught her lord with a little milkmaid were to carry on with the firstclown that fell in her way! Things like that should not be taken soseriously. A man is but a man, especially if he is a gentleman! Why,I've seen _countesses_ even, whose husbands went on the loose. Youexpect too much, my dear! Chocolate is the nicest dish in the wholeworld; but if one were to give one's husband nothing but chocolate everyday, he would soon loathe the very sight of it. Come, come! go home,dear heart, my darling ladykin, to your dear good lord and master, andyou'll see how heartily he'll receive you!'
"I replied that I would never go back to him again. I wept for shame.The woman guessed the cause of my tears.
"'Come, come, good heart! Why, my lady, we'll all of us agree to denythat this little holiday ever happened. We were talking about it justnow. We'll lie the thing away, and say that your ladyship only wanted tofrighten the good gentleman, and that you were hiding the whole time atthe house of the local magistrate.'
"And how about the flower-selling in the market-place, and the promenadethrough the waters?'
"'We'll say that that was only done out of spite. How should a dirtyclown like my husband presume to cast his eyes on such a precioustreasure as your ladyship? Why, anybody who could believe such a thingwould be called a downright fool. We'll put it all to rights finely.'
"'But a separation suit is already going on?'
"'Your ladyship needn't trouble your head about that. His honour haswithdrawn his complaint. Yes, I declare he has. He told me he was ingreat embarrassment. He had been deprived of his tithes and land tax,and did not know whither to turn for money. The gentlemen up at Pest hadreintroduced the _morgatorium_, or whatever the plaguy thing is called,which as good as said that all the old debts were not to be paid, butthat no new debts were to be made. Now, if he is divorced from yourladyship, he will have to pay you back your 100,000 florins, and thenhe'll be ruined. That's a fact.'
"A light began to dawn upon me. This garrulous little peasant woman hadlet out the secret why my idyll had terminated so abruptly. A verypretty twice-two certainly! They receive me back like a pupil returningto school after the vacation. For that very reason I resolved I would_not_ go back.
"When I was dressed again in my old clothes, she opened the little doorand readmitted me into the larger apartment. Peter was now tricked outin his grandest array. He had donned his Sunday mantle, drawn on his newboots, and stood before me hat in hand. He was as humble as a lackey. Hekissed my hand, and I noticed now for the first time how very bristlyhis chin was. When he spoke it sounded like the whining voice of aburnt-out beggar-man who stands at the stable-door and begs an alms.
"'I kiss your gracious hands, my lady. I humbly beg pardon if I haveoffended you in any way. I didn't mean to do it. Forgive me my fault,and I'll never do it again.'
"At this I knew not whether to laugh or to cry.
"Then he got quite touched, and wiped his eyes with the flapping sleevesof his shirt.
"Behind the door stood a stout willow-wood stick, which he laid hold of.I wondered what he was going to do with it. Would he give it to me as astaff for my pilgrimage?
"'Permit me, your ladyship, to accompany you as far as the castle. Someevil might befall you on the way. There are bad men about. The dogsmight bark at you, and the bull is quite savage.'
"'But I am not going to the castle,' I said.
"He gaped at me. 'Whither away, then?'
"'That's my business! The road goes up, and the road goes down. I'll gowhichever way the wind blows.'
"Then he rallied all the wisdom he possessed, and preached a sermon tome with all the unction of an Old Testament patriarch.
"'Don't do that, my dear good lady! Don't grieve your good and lovinglord! There's not a better man in the world. Allow me to accompany youhome. I'll keep well behind--twenty yards if you like.'
"I stamped my foot impatiently, and bawled at him to come away from thedoor and let me go my way.
"Then it was that Peter showed his true colours.
"'My lady, this cannot be! The good and worthy squire, when he gave methe ten oxen to take back my wife, said this to me: "Well! PeterGyuricza, if you bring my wife home also, ten young calves shan't standbetween us."'
(The rocks and woods re-echoed with my laughter. I couldn't keep itback.)
"Then my fury boiled over. You know that when I fly into a rage I am aperfect lioness, don't you? I snatched the stick from Peter Gyuricza'shand. 'Lubber, lout! I'll give you your ten young calves! There you are,take them!' I don't know whether I gave him exactly ten blows. I didn'tcount them. And the big lout of a man turned tail, rushed into the room,dodged round the table, and roared like a hippopotamus, while I brokethe stick over his shoulders. His consort thought it best not tointerfere, but leaped upon the bench and looked on. It was a real luxuryfor her to meet with some one who could thoroughly trounce her tyrant.
"I only wish my previous journey had not fatigued me so much.
"I began to recover a little when I found myself out in the fields, andthe breeze blew the heat out of my head. My idyll had come to a prettyend. What was I to do now? One thing was certain, I could not return toMuki Bagotay.
"But whither was I to go, then?
"Before me lay the beautiful Danube. The road by the dam ran all the wayalong it. From time to time I leaned against an old willow-tree andlooked at the great living-water. Now and then a fish would leap up intothe air with a loud splash. I was not afraid of the water, but of thefishes I was afraid. I could not kill myself. I should have rejoiced, ifthat had been true with which they used to frighten us in our childishdays when we leaned over the bank and looked into the water: Beware ofthe devil who lurks behind you and will push
you in! But he didn't pushme in. The devil can do nothing now. He cannot compete at all with thesons of men. But was it really worth while to kill myself for the sakeof two such men as Muki Bagotay and Peter Gyuricza? No, my death wouldthen have been as ridiculous as my life!
"I thought I would go home to my mother. She couldn't exactly turn meout of doors. Let her punish me as she will--I'll humble myself; I'llbow down before her; I'll endure her wrath. After all, is she not mymother, and am I not her only child? She cannot but love her little one.From any one else I could not expect to find pity or love. Why, I evenhated myself!
"With these thoughts I set off towards the town.
"It was baking hot. A strong south wind was blowing, as dry and burningas if it had come out of a stove. Clouds of sand covered the wholeregion, and whenever a gust came, I had to take refuge under awillow-tree, lest I should be hurled into the dam. I can't say what timeof the day it was, but I know that it was the forenoon to me, for I hadeaten nothing yet that day. The Gyuriczas had forgotten to invite me tosit down to their dumplings.... To quench my thirst, I descended once ortwice to the Danube and drank some water out of the palm of my hand. Onthe road-side I found a flower which I thought was a cheese-poppy. Itasted it, but it was very nasty. Weary as I was, I must hasten to getto the town as soon as possible. I should have been glad even of such apiece of bread as I used to distribute to the beggars at home on Friday.
"I was hastening on towards the town, when suddenly a kind of darknessrose up before me in the sky, and on looking at it more attentively, Iwas horrified to observe that in the town a fire had broken out, theblack smoke of which was rolling up into the dust-clouded sky.
"The burning simoon blew back the black smoke upon the town. GreatHeaven! the whole town will be reduced to ashes.
"And now I began to run. I forgot that I was weary, I forgot that I washungry. Fear lent me fresh strength. The nearer I got to the town thehigher the smoke rolled up. Now, however, it was not black, but red.Millions of sparks shot flashing upwards, and huge fragments of flamingroofs were to be seen flying in the midst of them. When a tiled housecaught fire, the burning tiles shivered like fiery rockets in everydirection. A whole street was already in flames when I reached the town.Howling heaps of men, carts and carriages in full career, wailing women,children half crushed and suffocated, and in the midst of them alllowing kine and oxen wildly struggling back into their dark stables atthe sight of the conflagration--the whole mass was rushing backwards andforwards in aimless confusion. I forced my way into a side street, lestI should be crushed to death, with the intention of getting home thatway. Everywhere I encountered lamenting crowds attempting to drag alongthe streets the things they had saved from their houses. Nobody thoughtof extinguishing the flames. The burning embers fell in torrents. When Igot to my mother's house I found it already wrapped in flames. It wasthe highest house in the street. A handful of Honveds were attempting toextinguish the flames. Others had mounted on the roof, and were throwingthe furniture out of the windows. I saw a gold-framed picture flyingthrough the air--it was the portrait of my poor father. Oh! he indeedused to love me. If he had only lived, I should not be what I am now.There were none but strange faces around me. In vain I asked them wheremy mother was. They had not heard of her. All at once a white-collaredofficer, some major or other I suppose, came up and cried to thefire-extinguishing Honveds, 'Why are you putting out that fire? Itdoesn't deserve it. It was there that the colonel lodged who set thetown on fire! Leave the cursed hole alone, and go and protect thehospital!' I knew not whether I had gone mad or not. Why did they curseour house? The Honveds began execrating the name of a colonel who hadoften come to our _soirees_. If they recognise me, I thought, perhapsthey'll pitch me into the fire also. One heavy cart after anotherrattled over my poor father's portrait. I couldn't even save that. I wasaroused from my benumbing stupor by a frightful yell, the shout ofthousands and thousands of men: 'Saint Andrew's Church is burning!' Oneof the slender towers of that vast cathedral was already in flames,while in the other the alarm-bells were ringing furiously. The mobcarried me with it. Every one hastened along to save the church. But itwas already too late. The other tower had also caught fire, the bellswere silenced, the roof of the church was also ablaze. The beautifulchurch banners, which the guildsmen used to carry all round the townwith great pomp on Corpus Christi day, were dragged out half charredamidst the falling firebrands. The heat was so terrible that one couldnot remain in the market-place. 'The whole town's done for!' cried themen. 'Let us fly to the island!' And with that the human flood pouredthrough the narrow streets towards the Danube. The thought occurred tome that _there_ was a little villa which belonged to us. Happy thought!Perhaps I might find my mother there: she might have fled there forrefuge. So I went along with the human torrent. By the time we got tothe island drawbridge, it was impossible to get any farther through thedensely packed crowd. Why were they coming back? Because the drawbridgewas also burning. It was a terrible spectacle. The whole Danube shorewas in flames, and the drawbridge leading to the island carried theconflagration still farther. The Danube was hissing with falling red-hotbeams. Corn-ships, windmills, swam blazing along, and dashed against theice-breakers. A band of armed Honveds posted by the custom-house keptthe people back from rushing upon the burning bridge. They told us whathad happened. There was a greater danger even than fire. An Imperialregiment had tried to creep quietly into the town. They were already atTata. The citizens, however, had found it out, and raised the drawbridgeagainst them. The troops, enraged at the failure of their stratagem, hadset the town on fire. What a cursing there was! I heard one particularname branded again and again, the name of the colonel who was to havemarried my mother if the revolution had not intervened."
I could not go on with my drawing. The mist no longer lay upon thelandscape, but upon my eyes.
The young lady continued circumstantially the history of thosehorrors:--
"Then three cannon-shots thundered from the fortress. No doubt it wasonly a signal which the troops often give in times of fire. But at thisroaring of guns the fear of the people became still greater. 'The enemyis storming the town!' At this the whole crowd, which had hithertoentirely covered the Danube's bank, immediately rushed back again intothe burning town, through the flaming streets and the burning rafters.'To the Waag, to the Waag!'[75] everybody cried. In that direction therewas a hope of deliverance. I am only amazed that I was not crushed todeath. In my terror I seized hold of a boatman's arm, and the worthyman, whom I had never seen before, allowed me to cling on to him likegrim death; assured me that he would take care I was not left behind,and dragged me along with him over the backs of the struggling mob."
[Footnote 75: A confluent of the Danube.]
Here she had to pause. The recollections of these horrors stopped herbreath. Pearls of sweat stood upon her forehead. It was only after avery long pause that she was able to resume.
"I shall never forget that day. The alarm-bells were still pealing froma single tower, the tower of the Calvinist church. All the other churchtowers were in ashes, this one alone remained. The wind was blowing in acontrary direction. The fire had not yet extended to that part of thetown. Every one hastened in the direction of the Calvinist church tower.The streets in the vicinity of the fortress were barred against theflying crowd by the Honved regiments; the only street by which it waspossible to get to the Waag was Sunday Street. This also was half inflames, but from where Great St. Michael Street cuts across it, it stillremained untouched. Your house was the border building beyond which thefire had not yet extended, but the inn at the opposite corner was burnedto the ground. Oh, that dear familiar house, with those cool corridors,and those red marble columns, on the iron cross-bars of which you, as aboy, so often used to show off your acrobatic feats before me! Thethought occurred to me of seeking sanctuary there in my great extremity.At one time I was wont to be heartily welcomed there. It is true that Ihad sinned grievously against that house, and the lady had reproached mewith it
to my face. I _had laughed at her son_, and that laughter haddriven him out into the world. But in seasons of great calamity wrath isforgotten. I would seek a refuge there with your mother. Such were mythoughts when I saw your mother's house. That sight I shall neverforget. There stood the good old lady on the threshold of her house, inthat very brown dress, that very frilled turban in which you painted herportrait. Whenever she recognised anybody among the flying crowd, shestopped him, and asked, 'Have you not seen my son?' and when hereplied, 'I have not!' she would wring her hands and sob bitterly, 'Oh,Holy Father! why is not my son here?'"
Alas! what was the matter with my eyes? They suddenly filled withsomething.
The young lady continued her story:--
"When I heard your mother saying these words, I was possessed with freshhorror. It never occurred to me that you had an elder brother who wasthe guardian of the orphan wards of the town, and that his proper placethen was in the Town Hall, with the roof blazing over his head, tryingto save the property of the orphans. I dared not go along that side ofthe street; I crossed over to the other side. Suppose she were to seizeme also and ask: 'What have you done with my son? But for thoseaccursed, colour-shifting eyes of yours, he would now be beside me, hewould never have left me all alone!' I dared not, I dared not meet hereye. I would rather endure the sight of my own mother's angry face thanthe tearful look of your mother. I hid my face in my hands, and hurriedpast."
She could say no more. She let her face fall on my breast, and sobbedaloud.