by Mór Jókai
CRAZY MARCSA.
There are as yet no institutions in our country for those unhappybeings in whose minds the "image and likeness" to their Divineoriginal has been destroyed. Hence every town and village in Hungaryhas its lunatic or idiot, familiar to everybody, from the child to theold man, who often remembers him from _his_ childhood--for suchunhappy persons generally live a long time.
They are looked upon as public orphans by the people, and are allowedto wander about as their innocent inclinations may suggest; seekingwild-flowers in the lonely woods, singing through the streets, lyingabroad in the sun, or roaming by moonlight; and none wish to deprivethem of the blessed free air, to check their strange gibberish, ortheir love for the pathless woods and the mysterious moon. They aresure to find good souls, who feed them when they are hungry, andclothe them when they are in want, or give them shelter at the closeof day, to continue their ceaseless pilgrimage next morning. And whenthe power of darkness comes, and they run through the streets, orshout up at the windows, they are merely greeted with "jo bolond"(good fool), or some such familiar expression; but none try to silenceor confine them, for it is known that silence and confinement aretorment to a fatuous person.
Some are born thus--perhaps _they_ are happy; but for those whosecountenances were once as bright and intelligent as any other, whatchords have been rent asunder in the heart, what sudden revolution hasoverturned the mind, that the soul should no longer know itself! Someretain a few words from the memory of the past, and those who hear thestrange sentence only shake their heads, and exclaim, "Poor fool!"little knowing what a world of grief, what a tale of ruined hope andwithered life, lies concealed in these few unintelligible words!
A few years ago, I spent some time in the county of Csongrad,[28] avery beautiful and populous district, where I had many opportunitiesof mixing with the peasants and farmers of the country. In thisdistrict the farmers, however wealthy, bear the name of peasant, andstill retain their simple costume, the linen _kontos_,[29] and the_brenda_.[30]
[Footnote 28: In the east of Hungary.]
[Footnote 29: _Kontos_, short Hungarian coat.]
[Footnote 30: _Brenda_, the cloak bordered with fur.]
At the house of one of these worthy peasants in particular, I was afrequent visitor; his simple but vigorous mind, and the wit andpertinence of his remarks, often entertained me. I partook of hishospitality at all their family _fetes_--the vintage, kukoriczagathering,[31] and birthdays; and indeed the good people would havetaken it amiss had I remained behind.
[Footnote 31: "Kukoricza gathering," the cutting of the maize orIndian corn--a great _fete_ in Hungary, like the vintage.]
On one occasion I happened to enter as they were baking, and wasreceived in the kitchen, where the wife, a rosy-faced, buxom youngwoman, was standing beside the stove superintending the motions offive or six servants, though she herself was more busy than any, withher own hands kneading the loaves, and tossing them on thebaking-shovel. The husband stood there too, under pretence of lightinghis pipe, but in reality for no other purpose than to tease his wife,who, during the important affair, scolded everybody who did not moveas quickly as she did, which became her very well.
Already ten large bannocks, fried with goose fat, and enriched withpreserved plums, lay smoking on the hearth; these the good woman,immediately on my entrance, began arranging in her best dishes, andoffered to me with a welcome smile, her husband assuring me that shehad baked them herself, and adding something about a certain winewhich was particularly good to drink after them.
In the midst of all this work, during which Mistress Kata severaltimes applied the long handle of the baking tongs to the shoulders ofsuch as did not bestir themselves quickly enough to please her, thedoor was softly pushed open, and the figure of a very old andshrivelled woman appeared on the threshold; at first she only put inher head, and looked around with a ghastly and vacant smile, caressingthe dogs, which ran up to her, and speaking to them as if they werethe dearest friends she had in the house; she then slowly advancedinto the room, pausing every now and then, as if waiting to beinvited, and again taking courage to proceed.
Nobody seemed to notice her except myself; they were either too muchengaged, or the fearful-looking creature who advanced towards them wastoo familiar a sight to strike them as she did me, who saw her for thefirst time.
Her figure was so bent and shrivelled that she did not appear to bemore than four feet high; her head was uncovered, and a mass ofperfectly white hair hung in a long plait down her back, as younggirls used to wear it. The face was furrowed by a thousand wrinkles,and the vacant and half-closed eyes seemed ever gazing on the samespot, while her lips were distended in a continual unearthly smile,while every now and then she made an idiotic motion with her head; herpetticoat and apron were composed of bright-coloured rags sewedtogether; in one hand she carried a large bunch of wild-flowers andweeds, and in the other two billets of wood.
On seeing a stranger, she endeavoured, with an odd and embarrassed_naivete_, to conceal her face behind her large nosegay; and,shuffling up to Mistress Kata, who had just placed her last loaf onthe baking-shovel, she tapped her on the shoulder with the flowers,exclaiming, with a weird laugh, "Huehue! Mistress Aunt, here I am, yousee!"
"That's right, Marcsa," said Mistress Kata; "I was just expectingyou,--don't you see?"
"Huehue!--I have brought you some beautiful flowers to plant; then Iheard you were baking, and I have brought wood," and she placed thebillets in Mistress Kate's arms.
"Now, you see, if you had not brought me this, we could not have keptup the fire. Well, will you have a bannock?"
"Huehue! that I will," said the old woman, stretching out her shrivelledarms.
"There, now--eat it," said Mistress Kata, handing her a large cake."But you must eat it before me."
"Huehue! I will take it to Joska bacsi!"
"Joska bacsi doesn't want it. Joska bacsi has sent to say that you areto eat it yourself."
"Really! did he say that?" asked the old woman; and then, with a deepsigh, she began to swallow the bannock. She did not bite it, nothaving wherewithal, but pushed the pieces into her mouth and swallowedthem, heaving a deep sigh at every mouthful; and, when she thoughtnobody was observing her, she hastily concealed the remainder in herapron, and looked round in great glee at having succeeded so cleverly.
"What will she do with the piece she has hidden?" I asked MistressKata.
"She keeps it, poor fool, for Joska bacsi!"
On hearing Joska bacsi mentioned, the old woman looked eagerly up, andasked, "What does Joska bacsi say?"
"He says you must count how many poppy-seeds[32] there are in thatplate," said one of the maids, laughing.
[Footnote 32: Poppy-seeds are much used in Hungary, in bread,puddings, cakes, &c.,--a favourite ingredient worked up into crust fordifferent pastries.]
The old woman rose without a word, and, approaching the plate, beganeagerly counting the seeds grain by grain.
"Why do you trifle with her?" said I, pitying the poor, witlesscreature; while Mistress Kata came forward and took hold of her arm.
"Leave it alone, good Marcsa; Erzsi is telling a story--that was notwhat Joska bacsi said."
But the poor idiot would not leave off counting till Kata said,pointing to me, and making a sign that I should acquiesce, "Look here,Marcsa; this gentleman has just come from Joska bacsi, and he hasbrought a message from him that you should go home and remain quiet,and not wander so much about the Theiss--did he not, sir?"
I of course assented, on which the idiot shuffled joyfully up to me,and, taking my hand, looked long into my face with her fearful, vacanteyes, and then said coaxingly, "Huehue! I do think he is almost asbeautiful a lad as my own Joska bacsi!"
This was very flattering, though I would have been better pleased hadthis hapless creature not gazed upon me thus, with her fixed andwitless eyes, and hastily taking a piece of silver out of my pocket, Ioffered it to her.
Idiots are always fond
of money, and as soon as I had put the coininto her hand, she immediately wished everybody good-night, and setoff in great haste.
"Well, there's something more for Joska bacsi," said Mistress Kata,laughing.
"How--how?" I eagerly asked, my curiosity being much excited.
"She will throw it into the Theiss where the water is deepest.Whatever she gets that she can give to Joska bacsi, all goes into theTheiss!"
"And who is this Joska bacsi?"
"Nobody at all: dear heart! such a creature never existed on earth. Itis only a fancy, such as all idiots have."
"And was she always mad?"
At these words an old peasant, who had been sitting in thechimney-corner, and silently observing us, exclaimed, "No, sir, thatshe was not."
"Well, I have never seen her otherwise, since I remember anything,"said Mistress Kata.
"You are not yet thirty years old, Mistress, and this happened longbefore your birth."
"Do you know something about her, then?" I asked, turning withinterest to the old man.
"He know, indeed!" said Mistress Kata scornfully; "he just likes totell stories, when he can find a fool who will listen to him. Butdon't be taken in, young gentleman, take my word for it."
I paid no attention, however, to Mistress Kata's warning, andquestioned the old man further: "Perhaps it was love that drove thispoor woman mad?"
"Love, indeed!--what nonsense!" cried Mistress Kata; "as if a peasantwould go mad for love! Bless your soul! only great folks can dothat--peasants have something else to do."
"And were you not yourself madly in love with me, eh?" interrupted herhusband, putting his arm round her waist.
"Get along!" cried his wife, striking his hand and blushing to theeyes; "I'd like to know for what?"
The old peasant meanwhile pulled my cloak, and whispered, "I don'tlike speaking here, sir, for they only laugh at me; but if you wouldlike to hear, come this evening. I will be standing in the porch, andthere I can tell you. It is a sad story enough, and may interest youto hear it."
Mistress Kata reverted frequently to the subject, exclaiming ever andanon, as the bread baked, and she took each loaf out of the oven andturned up its shining crust, "Well, that is an idea!--go mad for loveof you, forsooth, as if you were worth going mad for!"
I did not forget my evening tryst, and found the old man in the porch.I greeted him with "Adjon Isten,"[33] and placed myself beside him onthe bench.
[Footnote 33: _Adjon Isten_, God give--an abbreviation for, God givegood day, &c.]
The old man returned my salutation, and, emptying his pipe, beganstriking fire with a flint. "Permit me, sir, to light my pipe again;for I cannot now think much unless I see the smoke before me;" then,drawing his cap far over his brow, he began his tale:--
"Nobody remembers anything about it now, for full sixty years havepassed since it happened; I was myself a barefooted boy, and it isonly a wonder that I have not forgotten it too. That poor idiot whomyou saw there, that wrinkled old creature, was then a beautiful younggirl, and that Joska bacsi of whom she always speaks was--my ownbrother! There was not a handsomer pair among all the peasants thanthose two; I have seen many a rising generation since, but never anylike them! Our parents were mutually sponsors. Marcsa's mother held mybrother and me at our baptism, and my mother held Marcsa. We playedtogether, we went to school together, and to the Lord's Table onEaster Sunday. Hej! that was a good priest who christened andcatechized us; he has been long since preaching in heaven; and theworthy chanter who instructed us too, is up striking time among theangels!
"The lad and the young girl had been so attached from their childhood,that they never dreamed they could live otherwise than together. Ourmother always called Marcsa her little daughter-in-law; and when sheand my brother were each nineteen years old, their parents decidedthat if God pleased to preserve us all till the next Carnival, theyshould be married. My brother often entreated them not to wait tillthe Carnival, 'for who knows,' he said, 'what may happen before then?'and with reason did his heart misgive him, poor fellow! for at thevintage Marcsa's father and ours went to the cellars to make the wine,and the deadly air[34] struck them--we found them both dead!
[Footnote 34: The wine-cellars, which every peasant possesses, are notin their cottages, but out in their vineyards; it frequently happensthat there is a malaria in the vaults, which is certain death to anywho remain in them above a certain time.]
"The mourning was very great in both houses--the two fathers cut offat one stroke; but in Marcsa's house the distress was still greaterthan in ours, for the old man, having been sacristan, had beenintrusted with certain sums, of which two hundred florins were missingafter his death. Where he had put them, or what had become of them,was never known, for death had struck him too suddenly. The reverendgentlemen who examined the accounts had so much consideration for thepoor widow, that they did not bring the affair to light, and evenpromised to wait a whole year, during which time the family mustendeavour to make up the sum, as after that period it could no longerbe kept secret.
"Our mother was much distressed when she heard of this affair, andthere was no more said of the carnival wedding: she was a poor but anhonest woman, and how could she allow her son to marry the daughter ofa man in whose hands the public money had been lost, and whose goodswould probably be sold at the end of a year to repay the scandalousdebt? The young lovers cried and lamented loudly, but it was all invain; my mother said if the sum should be restored within a year shewould receive the girl, but never otherwise. She prohibited my brotherfrom holding personal intercourse with Marcsa during that entireperiod; and in order that he might keep his word the more easily, shebound him apprentice to a Theiss miller, and then--the water partedthem.
"Meanwhile, Marcsa's mother very soon died of grief and care, andthe girl was left alone. But love wrought wonders in her; and whenthe poor girl had not a creature in the world to help her, she cameover to our mother and said: 'You will not allow your son to marryme unless my father's debt be replaced--good, I have still a wholeyear, and I will work day and night; I will endure hunger,fatigue--everything, but I will earn the money.'
"And then she began to put her promise into execution.
"Oh, sir! you do not know what a great sum two hundred florins is fora poor peasant, who has to earn it all by hard and honest labour, thework of his hands and the sweat of his brow, and to collect it pennyby penny.
"From this day forward, the good girl was scarcely ever seen away fromher work. All through the winter, she sat for ever at her wheel,spinning a yarn like silk, which she wove herself; there was no linenlike hers in the village, as I have heard the old folks say. Shelooked after the poultry in the morning, and carried the fowls andeggs herself to market. There was a little bit of a garden behind thehouse, where she kept flowers and vegetables; and earned more by itthan many who had four times as much ground. In summer she joined thereapers, and all that she got for her work she turned intomoney--fruit, or poultry, or little sucking pigs. Throughout thatblessed year, sir, nobody ever saw smoke arise from her chimney: a bitof dry bread was all her daily sustenance; and yet the Lord took suchgood care of her, that not only her beauty did not diminish, but shelooked as healthy and as rosy as if she were living on milk andbutter. Love kept the spirit in her, poor girl!
"My brother was not allowed to go to her, but I was the messengerbetween them. Often, in the fine summer evenings, when I was down atthe mill with my brother, he would take his flute and play thosebeautiful melodies, which none could do better than he; and the girlson the other side, who were filling their pitchers in the stream, orstanding with their white feet in the water, washing linen, would hearthe air, and join in the chorus. But my brother only heard one voice,and that was the sweetest and the saddest I ever listened to, andbrought tears into the eyes of every one who heard it: you could haverecognised her voice among a thousand.
"Sometimes his master gave my brother leave of absence for an hour ortwo, and those were happy days for Joska:
he would send me to bidMarcsa come down in the evening toward the Willow Island. This was alittle sandbank covered with willow-trees, about three or four fathomsfrom the shore. Hither would my brother also come in his little boat,while his true-love sat opposite to him upon the shore, and therewould they converse till morning across the stream--thus satisfyingtheir own hearts, and obeying my mother's orders. They met, and yetwere separated.
"On this footing things remained until the vintage. Marcsa wasconsidered not only the prettiest, but the best girl in the village.The new wine was not yet clear, when one morning the good girl cameinto my mother's, and counted out two hundred florins on the large oaktable--all in good huszasok,[35] not one small piece was wanting--andbegged my mother to take them with her to the reverend gentlemen, whogave a sealed receipt for the amount. None but ourselves ever knewthat it was all our pretty Marcsa's hard earnings.
[Footnote 35: _Huszas_--a silver piece containing twenty kreutzers,worth eightpence.]
"On returning, my mother took Marcsa home with her, and plaited herlong hair with pretty rainbow-coloured ribbons, put a string ofgarnets round her neck, and a pair of fine shoes on her little feet;and all gaily dressed, she took her--none of us knew whither.
"I followed them, however, to the Theiss, when my mother bade me goand ask the ferryman to take us across to the mill, where my brotherwas serving; and we all three sat down in the boat.
"Even now I think I see the beautiful girl: it seems as it were butyesterday that she sat in the boat before me by my mother's side,blushing modestly, her sparkling eyes cast down. Her heart told herwhither we were going.
"My brother recognised us from a distance, and seeing that we wererowing towards him, and his beloved sitting by his mother's side andon her right hand, he rushed joyfully down to his boat, and pushing itoff, leaped in and rowed to meet us.
"When he came up to us, and he and his bride raised their eyes towardseach other, the poor things scarcely knew what they were about forjoy--they looked as if they could have flown, to rush the sooner intoone another's arms. Joska guided his boat alongside of ours that wemight step in, and coming to the bow, he stretched out his arms toMarcsa, who trembled like the delibab[36] with joy and emotion.
[Footnote 36: The mirage, or _Fata Morgana_, frequently seen on thepuszta, and which sometimes appears to tremble like a reflection in atroubled stream. The traveller is sometimes deceived by seeing avillage or castle before him, which trembles and vanishes by degreesas he approaches.]
"At that moment the boat overbalanced, and my brother suddenly fellbetween the two boats, and disappeared from our sight.
"The unhappy bride, who had stretched out her arms to the bridegroomfor whom she had endured so much and worked so hard, uttered a fearfulcry, and threw herself after him into the Theiss.
"My poor mother and I wrung our hands, and called for help, whichbrought out the millers from the other side, who hastened down totheir boats, and put off towards us: in a short time they took upMarcsa, whose wide dress floated on the surface; but they could notfind my brother, and we never saw anything more of him from that hour,except his wreathed bonnet[37] floating on the water.
[Footnote 37: The Hungarian peasants in some districts wear smallpointed hats, in form like the Tyrolian, always adorned with a wreathof flowers.]
"Three days afterwards, my mother was struck with apoplexy, and thepoor bride lay insensible in a violent fever. For six weeks shecontinued more dead than alive; and when at last she was able to rise,her beauty was all gone--you could scarcely have recognised her as thesame person.
"For some time we only remarked that she was very sad and thoughtful,and would sit all day without speaking a word; but by and bye, to ourastonishment, she would go down to the river, and when the miller'sboys came over in their boats, would ask, 'What news from Joskabacsi?'
"At first we thought this was still only the effect of fever,--forduring her illness she had raved incessantly of Joska; but as timewore on, and she was always doing stranger things, our eyes began toopen to the melancholy truth. One day she went home, and telling usshe was going to arrange her house, that it might be in order whenJoska bacsi came, she began turning up all the chairs and tables,whitewashed the house, killed her little poultry one after the other,and then began cooking and baking to prepare for the wedding. All atonce, however, she became quite distracted: knew no person by name,would speak aloud in the church, and pray and sing along the roads;she would do no work, and was indeed quite incapable--entangled allher yarn, saying she would get more money for it if in that condition,and set out empty egg-shells for market. At last, the wandering maniacame upon her. One evening she disappeared from her house; and aftersearching everywhere for five days, we found her among high reeds bythe river's side--her face disfigured, and her clothes all torn. Sincethat time, the poor creature has remained insane. Her beauty hadpassed away like the wind, and in four years she was the broken-downold woman you now see her, and that was full sixty years ago.
"Every one has now forgotten the event, for few are living whowitnessed it; and the oldest man remembers her since his childhood asCrazy Marcsa, who minds neither cold nor hunger, fasts for daystogether and eats whatever is placed before her, collects every gaudyrag and sews it on her dress, calls old and young _nene_ (eldersister), and asks but one question--'What news from Joska bacsi?'
"The folks laugh at her, but none know that her bridegroom lies belowthe Tisza water; and the merry girls in the spinning-rooms have littlethought, when they make fun of Marcsa, that the wrinkled and fearfulold creature was once as gay and smiling--ay, and prettier far thanany of themselves. Such is life, good sir!"
The old man emptied his pipe: it was getting late. I thanked him forthe tale, and pressing his hand, returned slowly and thoughtfullyhome.
"Strange, that a peasant should go mad for love! Only great folks cando that!"
I heard another case, in Bekes, of an idiot who was to all appearancea very quiet and industrious man. One could scarcely perceive anysymptoms of insanity about him; but if the name Gyuri (George) wereuttered in his hearing, he would start up--whether he was eating orworking, or from whatever his employment might be--dash down his spoonor his saw, and run without stopping till he fell down from utterexhaustion.
Mischievous boys would sometimes make him run thus for their senselessamusement; at other times, the name, unguardedly dropped, would sendhim rushing to and fro: but otherwise, he was the quietest, gentlestcreature in the world, and one might converse with him as with anyother person.
His story was as follows:--
It happened once, that on a bright December day he and anothershepherd boy had gone out to the plains with their flocks. It was aremarkably fine winter; there had been no frost as yet, and the wholeplain was as green, and the sun as warm, as on a day in spring.
The two boys had driven their sheep to a great distance, when all atonce, towards evening, a sharp and biting wind arose from the north.In an hour the weather had changed, and the horizon was overcast withheavy dark-blue clouds, which seemed angrily contending with the northwind. The ravens, those avant-couriers of the snowstorm, assembled invast flocks, mingling their cries with the howling of the wind.
The shepherd boys hastily assembled their sheep, and began to drivethem home. Scarcely had they proceeded a few hundred yards, however,when the horizon had completely darkened, the snow fell thickly,driven about by the wind, and in a few moments the path which guidedthem was covered. Meanwhile, the cold had sensibly increased, theground was soon frozen quite hard, and the boys had lost all tracesof their homeward way--they ran hither and thither, listening, andlooking around them. No glimmering light was to be seen, nor thebarking of a dog to be heard. Night had come on, and they had strayedinto the puszta!
What was to be done? It was impossible to drive the sheep farther, forthey crowded all in a heap, with their heads together.
"We will do like the sheep," said the herd-boys; and spreading theirIzurok[38] upon the gr
ound, they lay down close to one another,endeavouring by the heat of their bodies to keep out the frost: andthus, with their arms clasped tightly round each other, they awaitedthe long stormy night, during which the snow never ceased an instant,and soon covered them both.
[Footnote 38: The peasant's mantle of coarse white flannel.]
Pista--so one of them was called--could not close his eyes all night:he heard the cries of the ravens incessantly above his head, and theroaring of the storm, which seemed hushed at intervals only to burstout more furiously, like the wrath of some huge monster, while thechill blast seemed to pierce him through, and turn his blood to ice.But his comrade Gyuri slept soundly, although he continually called inhis ear in order to awake him; for he feared to listen to his heavysnoring, and to be alone awake. At length the sleeper ceased to snore,and breathed quietly for a time, till by degrees the breathing toobecame fainter and fainter.
When at last the fearful night had passed, and the clouds of snow hadcleared away, and day began to break upon the hoary world, Pista triedto rise and wake his companion, who was still sound asleep, and kepthis arms clasped tightly round his neck; but all his exertions couldnot wake him.
"Gyuri, awake!" he cried, shaking the sleeper; but Gyuri did notwake.
"Gyuri, awake!" he repeated in terror; but Gyuri's sleep was aneternal one--the boy was frozen.
When Pista saw that his comrade was dead, he tried in vain to releasehimself from his grasp; but the stiff dead arms were clasped sotightly round his neck, it was impossible to extricate them.
The terrified boy, finding himself face to face with the dead, whoheld him with such irresistible power in his fearful embrace, whilethe glazed and motionless eyes looked straight into his own, struggledfearfully through the snow, and dashed into the rushes, where thevillagers who had come out to search for them most providentiallyfound him, still crying out--"Gyuri, awake! Gyuri, let me go!"
They freed him with great difficulty from his companion's arms, butterror had deprived him of reason from that hour.
He never does any harm, or quarrels with anybody; and he speakssensibly and quietly, unless his comrade's name is mentioned, when hewill take to his heels and run as long as he has breath in his body.
* * * * *
Mental derangement does not always assume a melancholy form: here andthere we meet with most grotesque examples, whose peculiar slyness andoriginal ideas are most amusing. Outwardly they are always gay: whomay know what passes within?
We had an instance of the latter species of madness in Transylvania._Boho Boris_ (silly Barbara) was known through the whole district.
She was never seen for one week in the same place, but wanderedcontinually about; her whole travelling apparatus consisting of aguitar, which she slung around her neck, and went singing away to thenext neighbour or the nearest town.
She found her table always covered; for she was quite at home inevery gentleman's house, never waiting to be invited, and ordered allthe servants about whether they would or not. Her apparel seemed togrow like the flowers of the meadow, without the assistance of tailorsor _marchandes de modes_,--not that petticoats and ruffles actuallysprang out of the earth on her account, but whenever she was tired ofany article of apparel, or did not fancy wearing it longer, she woulddoff it at the first gentleman's house she came to, and put on a dressbelonging to the lady of the mansion, declaring with the utmostgravity that it suited her very well; and the Transylvanian ladieswere too generous not to leave her in her confidence, and inundisturbed possession of the new dress.
Once a great lady, Countess N----, pitying poor Boris's uncertain modeof life, invited her to her castle, promising to keep her as long asshe lived.
Now this good lady had one or two little peculiarities. In the firstplace, she was very sentimental, and always dreaming of some hero ofromance; secondly, she was extremely sensitive, and if any personunmercifully wounded her tender heart, she was always sure to swoonaway; and thirdly, having swooned away, she always waited till thewhole household had assembled round her, and could not be brought toherself as long as one member of it failed.
Boho Biri being constantly with the Countess, had the full benefit ofher eccentricities. This, however, did not seem to annoy her in theleast: when the lady spoke of her love affairs, Boris spoke of herown; when the Countess sighed deeply, Boho Biri sighed still deeper;if the Countess described her injuries or her bitter fate in prose,Biri illustrated hers in verse; and when the Countess, overcome by heremotions, fainted away on a sofa, Boho Biri fainted on another, andalways remained full half an hour longer in her swoon than the ladyherself. If it were necessary to take cramp, when the Countess hadonly commenced, Boho Biri was already roaring so as to bring the wholehousehold to the rescue.
Finally, however, it became too much for Boris. One day, taking up herguitar, and putting a roll in her pocket, she announced her intentionto depart.
The good lady in astonishment asked why.
Boho Biri struck an accord on her guitar, and raising herself on thetips of her toes, she answered, with dignified composure: "Two foolsare one too many in one house!"