Csataképek. English

by Mór Jókai

  THE BREWER.

  Nature had endowed Vendel Hornyicsek, the brewer of B----, in thecounty of Raab, with five hundred and seventy nine pounds of standardweight; and he was not the man to turn tail before a stuffed lamb andany given quantity of beer.

  His head was a complete circle, a worthy rival for any pumpkinproduced on the sunniest plain; and Mount Ararat itself might haveblushed in the vicinity of his nose. He had only one eye, which youmight have suspected he had borrowed _ad usum_ from some misanthropicmole--it was small, green, and peculiarly adapted to sleep; but motherNature was not unjust, and what she curtailed in one feature she amplyrefunded in another, by bestowing more than ordinary proportions onthe mouth, into which capacious aperture the four-quart tankard wouldcertainly have disappeared altogether had it not been held fast by itstwo handles. Except, however, to receive the contents of the tankard,the good man seldom made use of this feature. It is true that he couldspeak nothing but the German and Bohemian languages, in which he hadbeen born and bred; for though he had lived thirty years in the countyof Raab, he had never been able to make himself understood in theHungarian language, and certainly he found no living creature, unlessit were those travelled gentlemen, the storks, to address him in hisnative tongue. Moreover, Vendel Hornyicsek gazda[61] was not a loverof great commotion; he was by no means ambitious. He would sit quietlyin the chimney-corner from morning till night, replenishing hisinterior with ample potions of the genuine barley-bree, and turning inhis mind some philosophy peculiarly his own. He never dined at regularhours, or rather he dined at every hour of the day; it was acontinual, unwearied struggle with his appetite--that invincibleAntaeus, who, as often as he was overcome, rose with redoubled strengthto renew the attack; and these struggles did not cease with the day,like the labour of ordinary mortals, but he was accustomed to wake atnight and strive to satisfy the cravings of the voracious monster. Apitcher of unusual dimensions was regularly placed by his bedside,just within comfortable reach of his hand; for it was his firm beliefthat whoever goes hungry to bed dreams of being devoured by Pharaoh'slean kine; it was probable, however, that he would have despatched thewhole seven had they come to an actual encounter.

  [Footnote 61: The common name for host or master.]

  In the village of B---- they still exhibit as a relic his flannelstockings, each of which would have contained at least a Presburg peckof anything you liked to put into it; while a wandering Sclavonianfamily might have harboured snugly in his sleeve.

  There was not a vestige of a beard on the broad expanse of face, whichwas naked as the moon, and blooming as the Pacha's rose. The cornersof his mouth extended upwards, as if they were amusing themselves atthe expense of the eye placed over them, and there was not theslightest rumour of anything like brow or lash to crown the eyelid. Asan indemnity, however, for such destitution, the chin was doubled andtrebled; indeed, it would have been difficult to decide where it beganand how it ended; and a few orphan hairs endeavoured to keep theirground on the vast and sterile heath above his ears.

  Our worthy host had already disposed of three ribs, or in other words,he had followed to the grave three wives, each of whom had weighedabove two hundredweight. But what did he derive, after all, from somany weddings and funerals? To be left alone at last, for the house togo to wreck and ruin, for the beer to get sour, the bread to be halfbaked, and the meat half cooked, while the hawks carried off hispoultry, and the rats his cheese; in short, his whole establishmentwent to auction, like the Csakys'[62] straw, till finally in theheight of his distress, Vendel resolved--what else could he do?--heresolved to look out for another wife, and actually set about carryinghis project into execution. In former times he had been used tocontemplate and weigh duly every consideration connected with thismost important step, together with the merits requisite in the objectof his choice. She must be plain, that he might have no cause forjealousy; of small speech, but ample dowry; and her knowledge andaccomplishments must consist chiefly in the noble art of pampuska[63]cookery, with which, namely, the pampuskas, our worthy host's mostsublime ideas of mortal happiness were connected. Hitherto he hadsucceeded to the utmost of his wishes, and three wives adorned withall the requisite virtues had rendered the pampuska morsel sweet tohis lips. Moreover, he had lived in uninterrupted peace andtranquillity, without having ever had the slightest cause foruneasiness; on the contrary, the first impulse of every one who lookedat either of the three worthy dames had been to turn and run as longas there was a road before him.

  [Footnote 62: This family is said to have had once such abundant cropsthat, in order to get rid of it, they were obliged to let all whowould carry it off.]

  [Footnote 63: A sort of fritter--a Bohemian dish.]

  But let no man call himself happy before his death--he may do soafterwards if he has a mind; as the wise Racien said a fortnight afterthe inundation. Vendel Hornyicsek having for the fourth time resolvedto put on the orban cap, so outwitted his good sense in his advancedage, as to take to himself a mate who was both young and pretty, andwhose name was Vicza.

  The first had been Nani, the second Lotti, the third Zsuzsi, all good,quiet, pious names. Hey! Vendel, Vendel, why should you have stumbledupon a Vicza! and such a Vicza too, whose eyes might have allured thesun from the skies, and each one of whose saucy motions might havecharmed the very curd[64] into life; a Vicza who, instead of pampuskacakes, baked such witch pogacsok,[65] that he must have been a verySaturn who ventured to partake of them; and it must be observed, thatalthough every muscle of this fair Vicza was replete with vivacity andmotion, yet the most flexible part of her whole person was that smallmember designated by anatomists the tongue; indeed, it required nowhalebone palate like that of the monster of the deep to emit sucheffusions as would clear the whole atmosphere.

  [Footnote 64: In Hungarian, the expression is more _naive_--_sleepingmilk_ being the literal translation.]

  [Footnote 65: Bannocks.]

  Scarcely had Mistress Vicza placed her foot in her husband's housewhen it became an overturned world. Her appearance had much the sameeffect as pouring vitriol into water, or putting a leech among thefoals. Every servant was obliged to be on his feet at cockcrowing, andwo to that cheek on whose sleep the sun shone, for Mistress Vicza'spalm was sure to celebrate it; moreover, she was in the kitchen,storeroom, barn, fold, stall, in short, everywhere at once, to seethat all was going on in order, and that the folks were not sleepingor stealing. She saw everything, knew everything, and had a word foreverybody, persecuted and pursued from morning till night whatever wascapable of motion, followed up every command to the very letter, andwas unfailing in her promises, which were invariably threats.

  These new arrangements by no means pleased the good Vendel. He couldnever sleep beyond daybreak, for all the windows and doors were thenthrown open to let the morning air pass through the rooms; he hadnobody to sit and discourse with to make the time pass, for nobody hada moment to sit down--the whole household seemed to be on galvanicsprings from sunrise till sunset. He was kept, besides, to regularmeals, and they only dished three times a day for him--for him who hadbeen accustomed to eat every hour of the twenty-four; and, ohunparalleled barbarity! he was obliged to forego altogether hisnightly repasts.

  If the unhappy man complained of having nothing to do, a basket ofbeans in their husks was placed before him to be peeled, or some othersuch employment which he would set to work at with a heavy sigh,thinking mournfully the while of his three dead partners, and thehappy days which had fled never to return.

  But Vendel was a philosopher, and he knew that it was best to submitwith a good grace, for how should he set himself in opposition to therising hurricane, or look the lightning in the face? Who indeed wouldnot have drawn in his head between his shoulders when the cappedBellona turned with outstretched arm to pour forth the vial of herwrath in hailstones and coals of fire, lightning flashing from hereyes and thunder pealing from her mouth? Vendel was not the man tocope with such elements of war; he would have borne even more for
thesake of a quiet life.

  Our worthy host kept a large beer-tavern in the village of B----,which had been hitherto the resort of all the cuirassiers and dragoonsin the neighbourhood, who beguiled every leisure hour in the enjoymentof the national beverage, while their kind host showed them anever-failing good example.

  A tall stripling of a Moravian youth, meagre as a sign-post, was thebeerhouse Ganymede. One might have thought his master had chosen himpurposely to form a contrast to himself. His mouth was always wideopen, and his eyes, which seemed trying to find their way out of hishead, stared vacantly before him: if he looked at anything at all, itwas apparently with the point of his nose.

  From two arms of immeasurable length dangled a huge pair of uncouthred hands, which looked as though they were not really his own, butmerely borrowed for the day's work, and his awkward legs he seemedrather to drag after him than to be indebted to their assistance forthe act of propulsion.

  To complete the singularity of his appearance, this youth was in thehabit of wearing a coat with long and pointed tails, the sleeves ofwhich scarcely reached below the elbows, while the ends of the tailsdangled against his ankles; his waistcoat had doubtless boasted ofsome very brilliant colouring in days long past, though it would havebeen difficult to distinguish the shades at present, and most of thegilt buttons had only left their ears as a remembrance. Widecsikos[66] drawers adorned his legs as far as the ankles, beneathwhich his bare feet, were thrust into a pair of heelless slippers; ahigh cravat stood up around his neck like a halter, in which no lessthan three glittering pins of Bohemian stones constituted the especialglory of his toilet.

  [Footnote 66: The csikos, who keep the horses on the plains, are notedfor their wide drawers.]

  It was late in the evening. The dogs were barking about the streets,and the peacocks crying in the neighbouring farm-yard; otherwise thevillage was very quiet, the good folks having for the most partretired to rest with the sparrows.

  Master Hans, or Hanzli, as he was commonly denominated--we have evadedthe question as long as possible, but finally we must acknowledge thatthe youth's name was Hanzli; it was no fault of his, poor fellow! hisgod-parents were alone to blame; and doubtless, had he been capable ofspeech when they so basely betrayed his helpless innocence, he wouldhave protested against it--Hanzli thrust his nose and his arm out ofthe window, then drew both back, and the window was closed.

  The village had been deserted for some weeks by the German soldiery;and from that day forward the beer-room had become pitifully empty,for it was only now and then that some desperately thirsty wretchdropped in by chance, and ventured to slake his thirst with a glass ofthe barm-smelling wine.

  A dim light flickered on the long table, round which leaneddespondingly a dozen of empty chairs. Vendel-gazda sat near thecupboard, in a red flannel dressing-gown and a pointed white cap witha blue border; his hands, which were placed on his vast stomach, helda plated snuff-box, and with his legs outstretched beneath the table,he snored away to his heart's content, while the much-esteemed gobletstood before him like an old fat dame with her arms a-kimbo.

  Hanzli having closed the shutters, and looked about him to see thatall was right, listened hard for a few moments to his master's deepbreathing, as he bobbed behind the tankard, and then hastily making uphis mind, he shambled over with long strides on tiptoe--hands, eyes,and mouth all moving together, as if he were stepping with each ofthem, and, pausing before the table, he raised one leg, balancedhimself on the other, and peeped into the depths of the tankard. Itwas still half full. This was enough. Having once more peeped into itto make sure that his imagination was not deceiving him, he seized itby the two ears, and, raising it to his month, began to draw in theunoffered beverage, his knees bending under him, and his eyes startingfrom his head with the enormous exertion.

  As he continued raising the huge tankard till half his head was withinit, a tremendous explosion was suddenly heard in the kitchen, as ifpots and pans were being thrown at somebody's head, which so startledHanzli that he emptied the remains of the barley nectar over his headand shoulders; and what was his mortification when, on replacing theempty tankard, he encountered Vendel's green eye staring at him wideopen, as if to say, "I see you, my lad; and I wish you good health!"but that was not what he said.

  "Hanzli, my lad, go and see what is broken in the kitchen." Could hehave uttered a severer reproof?

  But Hanzli had too much sense and too much confidence in his master'sgoodness to believe that he was in earnest; he knew that he wouldprobably return with the answer that it was his nose that was broken;and having recovered from his first embarrassment, he merely drew along breath terminating in a whistle, and shook his head until theshake resolved itself into a wave.

  "Poor Master Vendel!" he seemed to say; "it was another world inMistress Nani's lifetime; you were not then roused from your sleep inthis manner."

  Vendel-gazda replied by a pitiful gaze at Hanzli. He would haveclasped his hands too, but only the tips of his fingers could reacheach other. He looked as if he would have said: "My poor lad, Hanzli,you too have a bad job of it now-a-days; in Mistress Nani's lifetime,the key of the cellar lived in your pocket, and you were not thenobliged to empty my tankard."

  The two countrymen were used to this silent language. They might haveconversed in their own tongue, to be sure. But then, who knows--inshort, there are cases--and Vendel and Hanzli were of this opinion--inwhich least said is soonest mended.

  And now Master Vendel's head began to wave very disastrously; hiswhole appearance was one large, living, fat complaint. It was likethat feeling which a man experiences when he knows that there issomething the matter with him, something seriously wrong, but cannotexactly tell what it is.

  "Hanzli, my lad!" he exclaimed at last, in a very weak voice, afterthey had exhausted their telegraphic repartee; "Hanzli, tell me whatis the matter with you."

  Hanzli raised both his shoulders to his ears, extending the palms ofhis hands outwards, and lifted his eyebrows to the top of hisforehead--implying by this gesture that he knew very well what was thematter with him, but was wise enough to keep it to himself.

  "Hm!" replied Vendel, and was again silent. He would not force the ladto speak--an excellent policy, if intentional; for when words are notforced, they force themselves. Hanzli by degrees shambled up nearerhis master, and after fidgeting about, coughing, and standing on oneleg, he suddenly turned round, placed his finger on the side of hisnose, and stooping to a level with Vendel's ear, whispered into it:

  "Indeed, indeed, master, the misfortune is this, and this alone,--thatyou have no heir."

  "What have I not, Hanzli?"

  "That you have no son or daughter."

  At these words Vendel's eye opened wide, and he struck the table witha force which sent the four-quart tankard dancing about as if thetartar were in it; then, holding up his enormous face, he began tolook out of himself. An entirely new idea seemed to thrill throughhim, as if he had just been assured that perpetual motion had not yetbeen discovered, and that he was the man to discover it.

  "You are right, Hanzli!" he exclaimed; "I have no son or daughter; andwhat if I had?"

  "Why then, you see, master," said Hanzli, looking behind him at eachword, "you see there would be something for the wife to do--somebodyto quarrel with, that you might not be always disturbed; and then youcould sit all day in the large arm-chair drinking and sleeping, andthe children would come and kiss your hand morning and evening, andyou could take them on your knee and tell them of the far-famedRuebezahl,[67] and if they made a noise you could scold them yourself;and then, in after years, all the excellent mysteries of the noble artof brewing would devolve on them, and you would leave a renownedprogeny after you; and how nice all this would be!"

  [Footnote 67: The subject of an old German legend.]

  Vendel's pride felt all the weight of this argument: his eyeglistened, his clenched fists were raised to his mouth, and he smiledas complacently as a Tyrolian cheese, and sighed so deeply
, that itmight have been a hurricane on Lichtenstein's estate. This poeticalturn was still more imposing than the melancholy one, but it did notlast long. Vendel's ideas were forced to descend from their airyregions, for the door opened, and a profane figure entered, carryingthe pole of a cart as a staff, and advanced with heavy steps to thefarthest end of the long table, where he seated himself on a bench,and grumbling out, in a tone which would have put a bear to shame,"Wine here!" he elbowed himself out of his mantle, and pushed the longpole behind him.

  The intruder was a middle-aged man, tall and muscular; his skin was ofa dark reddish brown, and shone as if it had been rubbed with oil; hisblack knotty hair was divided in the middle, and fell in mattedclusters on either side; and his beard was spiral, and twisted like agipsy's farewell.[68]

  [Footnote 68: Gipsy's farewell--a byword, because they generallyterminate the last notes of their music by various turns and windingsof the air.]

  He wore a high csalma,[69] in the top of which was stuck a red pipe;and a large brass monogram, the initials of the lord of the domain,was fastened on one side.

  [Footnote 69: A kind of toque worn by the peasants in some districts.]

  Wine was placed before him, which he swallowed in silence, only nowand then grumbling something inarticulately to himself. When he haddrunk a few glasses, he took the pipe out of his csalma, and lightingit at the candle, leant upon one elbow and began to smoke. He seemedupon no ceremony, and was evidently no stranger in the house. Hanzlistood before him with his mouth open, and his hands behind his back;and Vendel reclined in his arm-chair, giving full scope to the flightsof his imagination.

  At last the silent guest, tired of leaning on one elbow, exchanged itfor the other, and, nodding condescendingly to Hanzli, he emptied hispipe; and again leaning on his arm, and drawing his mouth fearfully toone side with his fist, exclaimed: "Well, Hanzli deak,[70] have youheard that the French are coming?"

  [Footnote 70: Scholar, student.]

  "Ah, indeed!" cried Hanzli, starting; "from Turkey?"

  Hanzli had studied about two years, and knew something of geography.He could speak a little Hungarian, too, and Moravian, and German--justenough of each to prevent him being sold in any of them (had therebeen anybody to buy him), and he jumbled all these languages togetherso strangely, that it would have been difficult to say which one hemeant to speak.

  "Indeed, I cannot tell that; I do not know where they come from,"replied the guest. "But this much is certain, that they all carrytheir heads under their arms, have eyes in their shoulders, and whenthey get hold of a man they snap his head off--kakk it goes!"

  Hanzli raised his hands to his neck: he thought they had got himalready.

  "Just so," continued the guest, wiping his bearded chin with thesleeve of his coat. "Then all their generals eat two pounds of iron,every morning, and wash it down with a pint of vitriol."

  "By all the saints!" exclaimed Hanzli, opening his mouth and eyes;"have you seen them yet, Andras-gazda?"

  "I was at a place where they were talking about them: my godfather'sniece has a bridegroom whose brother is serving with the green csakohussars--they have just quartered a troop in the district, and it washe who related it."

  At the word 'hussar,' Vendel's attention began to be excited; it wasthe only word he understood in Hungarian, and it brought to hisrecollection so much poultry which had been carried off by the kites,and so many barrels of wine which the great bell[71] had paid, andstill pays for to the present day.

  [Footnote 71: In Hungary, there is a proverb that unpaid debts will becollected by the great bell.]

  But it is a bad thing to mention the evil one, for he is sure to beprowling about the garden; and Vendel-gazda had scarcely time tosummon to his imagination that human being metamorphosed into theinhuman called a hussar, before the door burst open, as if Sisera'sarmy had arrived, and six moustached figures, each one smarter andmore agile than the last, entered with a clash of arms, which wouldhave disturbed the philosophy of any honest peace-loving Bohemian inChristendom; and instead of seating themselves at the table, as anyother reasonable Christians would have done, they clinked and rattledabout here and there, making jests on the pictures of Cossack feats onthe walls, with their pendants of Spring, Summer, and Winter.

  One among them was a singularly handsome youth, with raven hair, andeyes which flashed like lightning; his pointed dark moustache wasprovokingly becoming, and his figure as supple as a young leopard's,but he was certainly the most unreasonable of the party: he gave norest to man or beast, and was the bane of every honest soul with whomhe came in contact. Scarcely had he entered, than he stumbled overHanzli, who was gaping in solemn wonder at the new-comers, his backbent and his neck stretched forward, as if he were trying to personifythe letter S.

  "Your servant, nephew!" exclaimed the hussar, thrusting his fingersamong the youth's hair, and making it all stand on end; "well, whathave you been about since we last met?"

  As they had never met in their lives before, this question and thecockatoo _frisure_ so embarrassed Hanzli, that he seized the bottlewhich stood before Andras-gazda and raised it to his lips, with aslittle ceremony as if that good man had not been sitting behind it.

  "Have you lost your senses?" cried Andras-gazda, seizing the tails ofHanzli's coat.

  "Make haste, man!" cried a voice deeper than any bass fiddle; "thunderand storms! make haste, man, and bring something to drink, orelse"--and then followed a torrent of oaths, which it would bedifficult and highly unbecoming to render into any known language.

  The voice proceeded from under the huge moustache of the hussarsergeant, who had seated himself on the bench with an imposing dignitythat became his rank.

  Hanzli disappeared, but in a few minutes he shuffled back, and placeda brilliantly coloured plate before the sergeant.

  "Did I ask for anything to eat, you stork, that you have brought me aplate instead of a glass?"

  Hanzli again disappeared, and returned with a glass of foaming beer,which he placed before the hussar, handing him a fork at the sametime.

  "What the tartar do you take me for?" cried the hussar furiously,"that you should suppose I am going to drink such confounded stuff, asnever before entered the mouth of any of my kindred!"

  Hanzli's confusion increased at every step, till at last he could notfind his own hands.

  Oh, the worthy German dragoons! they were much more reasonable guests;they knew how to appreciate the good barley-bree! Then each had hisown place, and his own tankard, beside which he would sit half thenight singing honest German songs, or treating of Kant's philosophy,till some had fallen asleep on their benches, and others under them!

  But the Magyar people have no conception of the ecstatic, or ofbeer-drinking; and it would be morally impossible to cut German orphilosophy out of their nature.

  Vendel-gazda had so completely lost all presence of mind, that heactually raised the tankard three times to his lips before heperceived that it was empty. From his earliest childhood he had grownup with the idea that every honest soul should keep clear of hussarsoldiery; but he was not quite certain as to whether Mistress Viczahad been educated in the same principles.

  Beneath the cupboard, with its head resting on Vendel's slippers, layhis favourite curly-haired, tail-clipped poodle, emitting now a halfsneeze in its sleep, and now a snarl, as if in sympathy with itsmaster's feelings.

  "Good evening to you, Master Host," exclaimed the mischief-lovinghussar, at the same time striking him on the shoulder as familiarly asif he had been one of his own recruits.

  Vendel opened his eyes--that is, his eye--as wide as possible; whilethe hussar, seizing his enormous palm, gave it such a hearty slap thatthe room echoed with the sound, and then shaking it after theHungarian fashion till the whole of the fat Colossus trembled likejelly, he sat down on the bench beside him, and thrust his finger andthumb into the open snuff-box, which the good man held in the otherhand. In trying to find a place for his feet under the table, he trodso hard on the stump
of the sleeping poodle's tail that it actuallycrackled, sending the poor animal howling most lamentably round theroom, while his howls were re-echoed by all the six or eight dogs inthe court-yard.

  "Come, come, don't make such a noise," said the hussar; "what if I hadstood on your nose?" And as the dog returned to its accustomed placeat its master's feet, he got hold of its head between his knees andfilled its nostrils with snuff; while the poor animal, endeavouring tobite, bark, and sneeze at the same time, exhibited the most ludicrousappearance. Everybody in the room was ready to split with laughter;even Hanzli ventured to grin, and thereby incurred the displeasure ofhis gracious master, who turned his eye upon him severely, as if tosay: "I take the joke from the soldiers, because they are hussars; butyou are Hanzli, and you have no business to laugh."

  Meanwhile, poor Vendel's nose grew longer and longer. "What a terriblerace!" thought he to himself; "they respect neither heaven nor earth,never drink beer, take an honest man's snuff to give it to his dog,and then laugh at the whole affair! Heaven preserve us! what may notcome next?"

  What indeed!

  Mankind has a singular propensity for thrusting his nose wherever hehears laughter or noise; and considering this weakness, what should bemore natural than that all the inhabitants of the kitchen should pressto the door of the beer-room to hear what was going on, andconsequently that Mistress Vicza, with her eyes burning like twocoals, should immediately follow in the track of the "linen folk?"

  But no sooner did the sparkling eyes, the rosy cheeks, and the elasticfigure of Mistress Vicza make its appearance, than the hussar startedfrom his post beside Vendel, and bounded towards the door.

  "Ah, sweet one! I have not seen you yet," he exclaimed, proceeding_brevi manu_ to span the small waist of the pretty hostess.

  "For shame, sir!" exclaimed Mistress Vicza, extricating herself fromthe hussar's grasp; and then, running over to her husband, she beganto caress and fondle him--drawing his cap over his head, and trying tomake room for herself on the bench beside him--though, at the verymoment she was kissing the dear old man, her bright eyes glanced slilyat the handsome hussar. (_Pro memoria_ to every married man--when hiswife kisses up one of his eyes, let him look well after her with theother.)

  Our hero, in order to repair his fault, after looking about him andtwisting his moustache, turned suddenly towards the group of servantsassembled at the door, and seizing the nearest, a plump, rosy-facedlittle girl, with long plaited hair tied with gay ribbons, heimprinted a hearty kiss on her cheek, on which she screamed so loudlythat he started back in alarm, bounding over the tables and chairs inhis way.

  "I'll settle your wits for you, master, if you can't behave betterthan that!" cried a deep voice in echo to the scream.

  "How now! what is the matter, countryman?" said the hussar, peeringinto the bold countenance of the hardy peasant.

  "'What is the matter?' that girl there is my bride; and I'll soon letyou know what the matter is, if you dare to touch her again!"

  "Ah! is that the case? who knows but that she would prefer me, afterall?" replied the hussar, and, leaping over the table, he once moreseized this living organ of sound, who screamed louder than before.

  "Storms of Karpath!" shouted Andras, starting up, and kicking thebench from before him; then dashing his cap on the ground, he begantucking up the sleeves of his shirt.

  "You want to fight, I suppose?" said the hussar, smiling complacently;"but swords are not made out of scythes, and you had better leave ahussar alone."

  "That I shall not, when he touches my bride, were he a dog-facedTartar! I shall beat him not only out of this, but out of the worldtoo, if he had a thousand souls! I don't care for your sword, MasterHussar;" and loosing the mantle from his neck, the sturdy peasantseized the pole he had brought with him, and held it forth with an armas knotty as an oak.

  "Don't be foolish, now, Andras!" cried the little girl, running overto the pole-gladiator, and endeavouring to pacify him.

  "Keep yourself out of the way, Panna," said Andras; "this is no timefor trifling; I'll show him who is master here!"

  "Why now, Andras, if you are determined to fight, I will get a weaponof your own dimensions," and, laughing gaily, the hussar opened thedoor and went into the court.

  "Bring what you like, the beam of a mill, or an oak-tree, I don't fearyou, with six others at your back!" cried the athletic labourer,assuming an offensive and defensive position with his back to thewall.

  "Don't be reckoning on us," said the sergeant; "we have nothing to sayto you--the lad can stand for himself."

  "You will probably part company soon," muttered Andras, waiting withopen eyes for the hussar's return.

  He appeared at length, with neither a mill-beam nor an oak tree, but along, slender reed, which he had pulled out of the roof.

  "What! do you dare to make a fool of me?" cried Andras furiously.

  "Not I," replied the hussar seriously, and stepping up to him, hebegan shaking the reed before his antagonist's face, who tried in vainto catch it, growing more impatient every instant, as the reed tickledhis nose and mouth, and the gay laugh of the hussar rang in his ears,till at last, maddened with fury, he swung violently round and dashedthe great cart-pole with such violence before him, that it broughtdown a shower of lime and mortar from the opposite wall, against whichit fell, after causing great havoc on its way--several chairs andtables lay despoiled of arms and legs on the ground, and the two-earedtankard before Vendel-gazda was shivered into a thousand splinters;while Hanzli lay below one of the tables contemplating the scene atfull length. What became of the hussar, or how he managed to escape inthat critical moment, Heaven only knows; but when Andras looked abouthim, after this feat of annihilating rage, he found the reed still athis mouth, like a cigar twelve feet long, and the hussar standingopposite to him as before.

  A general burst of laughter responded to Andras's gape ofastonishment.

  "Well, if ever I saw a match for that since I lived at Kiliti!"exclaimed the perplexed peasant, rubbing his eyes.

  But what were mine host Vendel's feelings during all this excitement?he who loved peace and quiet, to what had he come at last? Disorderand misrule had taken possession of his house, he heard oaths whichmade his hair stand on end, his snuff-box was rifled withoutpermission, his poodle's tail trod upon, he himself laughed at, andfinally, open war carried on in his presence, and his favouritetankard, which had been esteemed and honoured, and had grown old inhis house, was destroyed for ever, never to be used again, even beyondthe grave, where he hoped to meet the three wives who had gone beforehim! It was more than a Bohemian-German brewer, who wore a night-cap,and was married for the fourth time, could be expected to bear.

  "Go to your beds, my good folk!" he exclaimed, addressing hishousehold in piteous accents, and rising solemnly from his seat; "letme get away from hence, Viczikam; let my bed be warmed with hot irons,for I am ill, very ill, and perhaps I may die. Alas! I am sick, sick!Vicza, I am dying!"

  "For Heaven's sake, what is the matter?" cried his wife in a tone ofgreat alarm, which was echoed by all the servants, who were of coursemuch alarmed also.

  "Bring elder-flowers from the attics," cried Mistress Vicza; "get alinseed poultice directly, boil water for the tea, and warm the pans;you, Hanzli, run to the barber's for leeches. Beatrice, lay down thebed immediately, and prepare hot irons--the gazda is sick, very sick;his head burns like an oven, and his hand is as cold as a frozenturnip; make haste--fly! two steps for one!"

  The servants dispersed right and left to their various appointments,and some, directed by Mistress Vicza, seized Vendel by the arms andlegs, and carried him off, neck and crop, to his bedroom, where theyrolled him up in three feather-beds and half-a-dozen pillows, and madehim drink a quart of camomile and as much elder-tea; while MistressVicza sat beside him with a hand-brush, which she applied unmercifullyif he attempted to move hand or foot from under the feather-beds.

  This is the village cure for every complaint. The patient is boiled inhis own
soup, and if he does not suffocate, or die of apoplexy, he issure to be cured.

  Vendel-gazda was at first only shamming ill. He wished to be in peaceand quiet, and he wished to be made much of; but Mistress Vicza hadfairly outwitted him, and he ended by believing what he had himselfinvented; he felt that it was either the heat or the cold, but somesort of fever it certainly was. The hot tea which he had drunk, thesack of linseed porridge which had been placed on his stomach, thevesicatorium applied to his soles, the anxious faces about him, thetiptoe tread, the odour of vinegar poured on heated iron to carry offinfection, the hands laid on his forehead, the whispered opinions, allgave rise to those peculiar sensations experienced at the beginning ofan illness--a sort of congealment in the head, and a swarmingsensation throughout the whole system.

  "Vicza!" whispered the patient from beneath the feather beds, fromwhich only his nose was seen rising like a main-mast; "Vicza, I amthirsty!"

  "The czerjo fu[72] will be here directly, my dear old man, and thenyou can drink it; meanwhile, you may suck your lips a little."

  [Footnote 72: Thousand-sweets, an herb.]

  Alas! it was not czerjo-fu tea that Vendel wanted to drink, but he didnot dare to say so.

  "See, here it is, hot and bitter, for my dear old man! wait, I willpour some into the saucer--now, drink it, and you will be quite well;but take care not to burn your mouth."

  "Brrrrrphue!" exclaimed the self-made patient, shuddering, as he tookthe first mouthful; "this must be poison!"

  "Poison indeed! it is excellent physic. I will drink some myself;there now--delightful! it will cure you perfectly--drink now, my oldman, drink it, quick! come now, drink it when I tell you."

  In short, _nolens volens_, Vendel was obliged to open his mouth, andswallow what is erroneously called a thousand sweets, but is, intruth, a hundred thousand bitters.

  It is a well-known fact that strong bitters produce a strong appetite,and this was the case thirty years ago, just as at present.

  Vendel-gazda contented himself for some time by sighing deeply, andgrimacing with his nose, which was the only part of his body in activecondition, till at last, no longer able to control his impatience, hebeckoned to Mistress Vicza, and whispered something in a beseechingtone, accompanied by a cannibal expression of countenance.

  "You insatiable cormorant!" said Mistress Vicza angrily, "what willyou want next?" and, drawing the capacious night-cap over his head,she bade him go to sleep, and left the room.

  A deep and heavy sigh burst from poor Vendel's lips.

  What the mystic word may or may not have been, has remained a secretto historians. Psychologians and philosophers, however, who areinitiated in the sacred mysteries of gastronomy, may explain it in thesimple expression, "I am hungry."

  Mistress Vicza, however, recommended the sufferer to forget histortures in sleep.

  But Vendel could not sleep. Fearful and strange apparitions rosebefore his hungry imagination. Now a gigantic mast of Augsburg sausagesailed past, followed by an immeasurable side of bacon; now a host ofrosy, smiling Bohemian pampuskas, their preserves squeezing out fromevery corner, came flying and leaping around him; anon a respectablebeer-flask floated gravely by, with its venerable crown of white foam,accompanied by a roasted pig of unusual dimensions; then followed indiverse rotation, the whole system of bakes, stews, and roasts, andall sorts of nameable and nameless hashes, minces, and rich soups,emitting their savoury odours and aromatic flavours.

  "Oh, hundredfold unhappy man that I am, not to be able to devour allthese!" said the hungry brewer to himself, as swallowing his saliva,he turned to the wall, and tried to say his prayers.

  But how could he pray under such circumstances? hungry and thirsty,with the water actually running from his mouth; besides which, theloud voices in the next room scolding, laughing, and fighting, were byno means calculated to inspire devotional feeling.

  While he was thus suffering and struggling within himself--nowwhimpering, and now gnawing his coverlet--all at once, he thought hefelt the pillow begin to move under his head, while certain mysteriouswhisperings met his ear; at last, something laid hold of his head.

  "What is that!"

  "Ja--ha--hai! it is me, master," said a voice, accompanied by achattering of teeth.

  Vendel looked round. Hanzli stood before him, his face of a lividgreen, his knees knocking together, and his hair standing on end.

  Vendel thought he beheld a spectre. He tried to cry out, but histongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he could not articulate asyllable.

  "Master!" exclaimed the youth with upturned eyes; and, tremblingviolently, he fell upon both knees, and seized the collar of Vendel'snight-dress so tightly, that the latter thought he was going to chokehim, but he did not--no, he did not; on the contrary, Hanzli began toweep bitterly, and to kiss his master's huge hand, while he could onlyexclaim in a voice choked with sobs, "Master, master!"

  "I hear, my lad; but what is the matter with you?"

  "Oh, nothing the matter with me; but my master is ruined for ever;they are going to seize him and carry him off, and make a terrible jobof him!"

  "What are you talking of, Hanzli, my lad?" exclaimed the amazedbrewer; "what do you mean?"

  "Well, do you know, master, what the enemy, this terrible,vitriol-drinking enemy, has come for?"

  "Not I."

  "Nor did I know it before, but now I know it all. Oh! to think that itwas for _that_ they have come across kingdoms and worlds with fire andsword! to think that they have been searching governments and realmsfor _that_!"

  "For what?"

  "Why, did I not say it?"

  "For my wife, perhaps?" cried the ex-patient, starting up, hunger andthirst alike forgotten.

  "That would have been a good idea!" thought Hanzli; "they might havedone that, but they did not. It is for you yourself, my belovedmaster--for you alone that all this war is waging," he whispered, withupraised eyes, pointing with his long ape-like arms to his master, whohad fallen on his back; for though he did not understand thecircumstances of the affair, he was very much alarmed for all that.

  He stared at Hanzli, and Hanzli stared at him; both seemed afraid ofrenewing the conversation.

  "But why--what does the French Emperor want with me?" asked Vendel atlast, in a voice faint with suspense and terror.

  "Ay," replied Hanzli, "that is the thing! They have a great projectabout you, master. I saw the green csako hussars whispering together,and shaking their heads. 'That is the man,' I heard them say, 'and noother;' and I came as near as possible to listen who or what it couldbe, and what should I hear"--

  "Well, and what did you hear?"

  "They said--whispering as low as possible, that nobody might hearthem--that the French Emperor would not cease devastating the landwith fire and sword, until they delivered him up as a ransom"--

  "Well?"

  "Until they gave him, as a ransom, a man weighing fivehundredweight"--

  "And what do they want with him?" gasped Vendel.

  "And therefore they are determined to weigh you to-morrow; and if youstrike the weight, they will immediately hand you over to the Emperorof the French! All this they whispered very low; but I heard them,master, for all that."

  "But what does he want with me, Hanzli? do you not know what hewants?"

  "Oh, it will kill you, master, to hear it! Nothing more nor lessthan"--

  "Than what?"

  "Than to preserve you in spirits for his museum!"

  "All ye saints!" roared Vendel, leaping up on his bed; "preserve me inspirits of wine like the four-legged hen, or the double-tailedlizard!"

  "Just so, master, and alive too!"

  "But it shall not be!" roared Vendel. "They shall not preserve me inspirits; I have no desire for such an honour--none at all! Come, helpme up. Where are my slippers? Holy prophet Jonas! no wish for itwhatever! Reach me my jacket and my cap. St. Florian and Habakkuk!help me to dress. My cloak, my cloak, Hanzli--St. Cecilia! my cloak!Let us run, my lad, run"--


  "But whither?"

  This was the question.

  "Where? out of the window, of course. Take the hatchet and knock outthe cross beams--that's it! never mind breaking the glass! Now, raiseme up, Hanzli; let us run!"

  And the next moment there was a terrible crash outside the window,occasioned by the descent of Vendel, which luckily the noise of therevellers within prevented them from hearing.

  "But where shall we go now?"

  This was the next question, for Vendel-gazda's legs were not exactlyfashioned to run away with him. What was to be done?

  At last Hanzli bethought him of a large wheel-barrow, which lay undera shed close by; and bringing it out, he placed his master in it, andwheeled him down a by-road which led behind the village; while thegigantic effort of this superhuman undertaking bent his back into a C,and caused his eyes to start almost out of their sockets.

  His master tried to encourage him as well as he could: "Push on, mybrave boy! I will serve you another time--only push on!"

  At last they reached the end of the village. Poor Hanzli stillcontinued pushing his immense burden before him, panting and snorting,while his back seemed ready to break at every step, and Vendel stillcontinued his words of encouragement. "That's right I push on, myboy!--we will rest anon."

  They reached the maize-ground.

  Hanzli was nearly exhausted; and just as he was exerting his laststrength to roll the sisyphian burden over a little mound--whileVendel urged him forward as usual, crying, "Push on, my lad, push outjust a little more!"--plump! the barrow turned to one side, and thewhole contents were precipitated into a muddy ditch.

  "Oh! alas! I am lost! Mercy, Hanzli; save me!" cried the prostrateBlasius.

  Hanzli did his best; and after much labour, succeeded in dragging hismaster out of the mud.

  "But now you must get on, master, as you best can, on your own twolegs; for if you expect me to push the barrow any more, I must justleave you here--my spine is split already; I shall never be fit foranything."

  "Don't be foolish, my lad; you surely don't mean to forsake me! Helpme at least to hide somewhere. You know very well how I always lovedyou--like my own son, Hanzlikam!"

  "Well then, don't be talking about it; but just get up and give meyour arm. Iai! if you are going to lean on me in that manner, master,I won't go a step farther. Just try to move your own legs--so, so."

  And by dint of threats and encouragement, Hanzli succeeded in dragginghis unhappy master through the maize till they reached a small shed,the sides and roof of which were somewhat dilapidated by wind andrain. Bundles of reeds, plaited together with maize stems, formed theshed-walls, through which the flowers of the sweet hazel-nut grew upluxuriantly; within, there was nothing but a legion of gnats.

  "Am I to remain here?" asked Vendel in a voice of despair, surveyingthe shed, which was almost filled when he was inside.

  "Don't be afraid, master! nobody will think of looking for you here."

  "But where am I to sit down?"

  "Why, on the ground, master."

  "St. Jeremias! that is a hard seat."

  "Never mind, master; it is better than being preserved in spirits ofwine."

  "But it is very cold; and then I am very hungry, too."

  "Well, we can help that, master. I will go home and bring you a wholeloaf, and some bacon."

  "Nothing else? You surely do not wish me to starve, Hanzli?"

  "I do not wish that, master; but indeed you must try and get down alittle, at least half a hundredweight, unless you intend to spend yourlife here in eternal concealment."

  Vendel looked round in dismay. "Very well, my son, very well--that is,I mean, very bad, very bad; but it can't be helped. Bring my dog,Hanzli, that I may have something to speak to at least when I amalone, and to take care of me."

  "Well, Heaven bless you, master, till I come back again! and don't beafraid."

  "Hanzli, don't speak of me to _anybody_,--you know who _that_ is,Hanzli--not a syllable!"

  "No, no; no, no!"

  And Vendel was left alone to his own reflections, which were anythingbut agreeable. Cold and hungry, turned out of his comfortable home andwarm bed, to pass the night in a damp maize-shed--and all for thecaprice of a sovereign who wished to preserve him in spirits!

  In about an hour's time, every moment of which seemed an eternity toour poor fugitive, Hanzli returned laden with various articles. Vendeldescried him at some distance, and rejoiced in seeing him thus bentbeneath his burden, believing he had brought the whole contents of thelarder on his back.

  "What is that on your back, Hanzli?" he called to him as heapproached.

  "A sheaf of straw, and a cloak."

  "Iai! nothing to eat? And what is that in your arms?"

  "That is the poodle, which I was obliged to carry, for he would notcome with me."

  "And the bread, and the other things?" asked Vendel anxiously.

  "Here it is, in the bag."

  Alas! this bag was a very small concern.

  "And have you brought nothing to drink, Hanzli?"

  "Yes, master, in this bottle."

  "That's right! Reach it here; let me draw the cork. Oh! are you aheathen, Hanzli?--there is nothing here but water!"

  "But it is quite fresh."

  "Do you wish to kill me, Hanzli?" Large tears stood in poor Vendel'seyes.

  "Come now, master, don't be grumbling; there is enough to eat anddrink. We will hang up the bag on these cross beams, and I will makeyour bed. See now, you may sleep soundly there, and I will come backagain to-morrow. Good night, master; shut the door after me."

  And Vendel was again alone. Ay, such is human life! Man can be secureof nothing in this world; even when he lies down in a comfortable bed,there is no saying where he may awake in the morning!

  Thus philosophized poor Vendel as he lay on his back on the hardearth. It was now quite dark; one or two inquisitive stars peepedthrough the cracks of the shed, but all was silent as death.

  Vendel was just beginning to feel drowsy, when all at once he heardsomething or somebody speaking close to him in the Germanaccent--indeed the sounds were quite distinct.

  "Quak, quak, frakk!"

  "Who the tartar can that be?"

  "Quak, quak, frakk!"

  "Perhaps it is Sclavonian they are talking," thought Vendel: "Jako szavolas, moje dusa?"[73]

  [Footnote 73: "What is your name, my dear?"]

  "Quak, quak, frakk!" The voice came always nearer; until at lastVendel summoned resolution to stretch out his hand in the direction ofthe sound to feel for its cause.

  Something cold moved under his fingers--as cold as a frog. What thetartar could it be? as cold as a frog, speaks German, and moves!Vendel could not guess; but he once more addressed the mysteriouscreature, and then, seizing his cap from off his head, he laid it overit, that he might not find it staring in his face next morning; afterwhich, he took the loaf out of the bag, and breaking off the crust,placed it under his head as a pillow, and slept soundly tilldaybreak;--for though he was once or twice disturbed by somethingpulling his hair or scratching his head, he was too much fatigued totake much notice of it, and only shook his head and fell asleep again.Towards morning, however, he began to be troubled by fearful dreams. Avast museum rose before him, in which were divers stuffed pelicans,ostriches, storks, crocodiles, sea-horses, peacocks, long-tailedmonkeys, and dog-faced Tartars, embalmed speckled devils, petrifiedangels, and suchlike _naturae curiosa_, all standing in long rows,among which were one or two critics, hung by the legs.

  But what most attracted his attention, were two gigantic glassesplaced in the middle of the room, both filled with spirits, and boundround the top with oilskin, in one of which stood a meagre elephant,swinging his long trunk before him, with frizzed hair, glazed boots, awide frock coat, and high collar, from each side of which protrudedhis long tusks.

  But now for the other glass! There floated Master Vendel himself,swelled to twice his original size, in his yellow flannel coat andc
oloured slippers, and stamping with all his force to break out of hisprison. He tried to cry out, too; but when he opened his mouth, thespirits went down his throat. At last he made a desperate leap to gethis head through the oilskin, and kicked out--the side of the reedshed.

  "Ahhaouhh!" he cried with a loud yawn, infinitely relieved at findinghimself there, instead of in the French Emperor's museum. "It was agood thing I did not submit to _that_; a terrible job they would havemade of me, no doubt!"

  Vendel then sat up, and began to think of breakfasting. He lookedabout for the loaf; but no loaf was to be seen--only a few scatteredcrumbs marked the place it had once occupied as a pillow.

  "Well!" sighed Vendel, summoning all his philosophy; "I must eat thebacon alone, though I shall probably be ill after it."

  But Providence had taken care that Vendel should not be ill throughthis means: the ham was nowhere to be found--only the empty bag lay onthe ground.

  Fearful spectres floated across the waste of Vendel's brain. "Filax!"he cried, but the poodle did not answer: there was a mine scratchedout under the reeds, by which he had probably made his escape.

  Vendel burst open the door, and the first thing which met his eye washis faithful dog quietly gnawing the bones of the bacon.

  "Alas, alas! I am lost!" cried Vendel, falling on his back in utterdespair.

  Fortunately, some secret misgiving induced the faithful Hanzli toreturn about noon with a fresh transport of provisions, otherwise thepoor brewer, like King Eu---- (the tartar knows what comes next!),might have been tempted to eat himself up.

  "Hanzli, my son! take away the dog, and bring a cat instead; the micehave eaten all my bread, and the dog has carried off the bacon. Butwhat of the hussars, Hanzli?"

  "Oh! they are already beyond the frontiers; they made a great noisetill early in the morning, when they mounted their horses and gallopedoff. Since then, they have probably been in battle."

  "And Mistress Vicza?"

  "They have not carried her off," replied Hanzli with a bitter sigh."She is going on in a terrible way, looking for you everywhere. Shethinks you are after no good, and promises that you shall smart for itwhen you return."

  "Utcza! I am between two fires!" thought poor Vendel. "On one side theFrench Emperor, on the other my wife: one wants to have me under aglass, the other under her thumb!"

  "But keep yourself well hid, for the enemy is approaching," continuedHanzli. "All the gentlemen of the town are hiding their effects underthe beams and in the cellars, and their wives are cooking and bakingall sorts of cakes; the very roads are covered with pastry. They saythe enemy fires with red powder, and there is a strong smell of pepperall about. Heaven preserve us when they come! for they are a terriblemerciless set, it is said, and spare neither man nor child; and theyhave such a love for torture, that they will bend two trees togetherfor their diversion, and tie a man's legs to them, then suddenly letthem go, and whip! he is split in two!"

  "Ale! iui!"

  "Then they tie the women together by the hair, and drive them off tothe markets in Africa."

  "I say, Hanzli, how far is it to Africa?"

  "I have not heard that yet, master; but I daresay as far asSzerdahely."[74]

  [Footnote 74: A little town about twenty miles north of Raab.]

  "I should like to know, in order that, if they carry off Vicza, Icould reckon in how many days she might return."

  "But what if they carry me off? and then some dog-faced young lady inAfrica may fall in love with me! sure enough, and then eat me! Theysay they fatten a man up with currants and other fruits, and then eathim!"

  "Alas! my son, Hanzli! if they carry you off and eat you, there willbe nobody to bring me anything to eat! For Heaven's sake, Hanzli, takecare of thyself!" And the good man seized Hanzli, and kissed andembraced him till the lad thought a bear had got him in its clutches,and was so blinded in consequence of the squeezing, that he stumbledabout afterwards like a shell-fish on shore.

  Days passed on. Hanzli continued to bring food to his master morningand evening, and to enliven his solitude with the numerous reports hehad heard in the village, and which were not unfrequently the cause ofsleepless nights to poor Vendel.

  Meanwhile, the maize was growing tall and yellow; the pumpkins wereripening beneath their great shady leaves, and the starlings visitedthe happy fields. Early in the mornings Vendel went up a neighbouringhillock, from whence he could see the village, and watch the smoke ofthe chimneys, and hear the dogs barking from a distance, and the bellsringing; then, when the sun rose, he would sigh deeply and go back tohis hut, where he lay down till Hanzli returned with food; nor wouldhe venture out again till the sun sank below the horizon, when hewould creep forth once more, and watch the shepherds' fires on themeadows, and listen to the herd-bells returning to the village, or themerry creaking of waggon-wheels over the plains; and then the moonrose, like a bright silver twentypence--so rare an appearance in thosedays (not the moon, but the twentypence), and poor Hornyicsek gazed atSt. David and his harp in the bright planet, and bethought him of thehappy times when he used to watch it from his marble bench, with hishead in a state of brilliant clairvoyance, illuminated by beer. Themild evening breeze sighed softly through the leaves of the maize, andthe crickets chirped around him. If Vendel had been a poet, he couldnot have desired more; but unfortunately, as it was, all this was lostto him, and he would readily have been excused the enjoyment of suchromantic scenes.

  The good man now discovered that his clothes were growing wider everyday, and that he mounted the hillock with much less difficulty thanformerly. He began to think that he might now with safety return tothe village; but Hanzli dissuaded him, declaring that he was stillmuch too fat, though he put him on stricter diet every day.

  Thus several weeks passed by, which were unmarked by any incident ofgreat importance in regard to Vendel. True, the ants sometimes tookhis residence by storm, causing him considerable inconvenience by dayand night; once a fearful hurricane nearly terrified him to death; anda mad buffalo kept beating about the maize-ground one afternoon,bellowing fearfully round the shed, while Vendel did not dare tobreathe or stir. But there was one adventure which very much disturbedthe good man's equanimity; and as it had, besides, some influence onhis future proceedings, we shall relate it more in detail.

  We have already mentioned that Vendel was haunted by some _uncanny_spirit, which seemed to converse in German, was cold to the touch, andmoved. This visit had been frequently repeated, and Vendel had asoften covered the intruder with his cap; but next morning, when heraised it carefully, there was nothing to be seen but a hole in theground, which was quite dark, and seemed to descend into the depths ofthe earth.

  One evening, as he was musing over the mysteries of this secretpassage, he thought he heard steps outside the shed, accompanied bylow whisperings. Shortly after, a strange phenomenon took place at themysterious hole; it seemed as if trying to speak--gurgling,hickupping, and sobbing, exactly like a human throat; he thought heheard it sigh, too. By degrees it grew louder and louder; a gulpingsound followed, then a terrible scratching was heard, nearer andnearer, and louder! Vendel trembled like an aspen leaf. Atlast--hah!--at last, a fearful head appeared,--two eyes, two ears,sharp teeth, a red tongue! higher and higher it came, struggling outof the hole. One struggle more, and a terrible, wild-looking, dirtycreature, with sharp nails and shining eyes, rushed forth!

  It was a water-rat!

  "Saint Bartholomew, help!" cried the brewer; "it will eat me!"

  And as the creature issued from the hole, a deluge rose after it,squirting and bubbling; and in an instant the rat, Vendel, and hisresidence were completely inundated.

  The mystery may be thus explained. Some mischievous shepherd boys hadcome to fill up the hole with water, and having found the entrance onthat side of the mound on which the forsaken shed stood, they hadbrought water from a neighbouring pond in buckets, which they poureddown the hole; and, ignorant of its telegraphic theory, they cursedthe frogs for drinking all
their water, while Vendel's residence wasundergoing an inundation at the other outlet of the rat's hole.

  Meanwhile, the persecuted monster ran round the small shed, and notfinding any mode of exit, climbed up the reeds on all-fours, and hadjust reached a hole which the wind had broken in the roof, when bysome unlucky chance it slipped back and fell--right on Vendel's nose!

  Our readers may imagine the cry which burst from the lips of theterrified man at this catastrophe: he kicked open the door with handsand feet, and rolled out, making as great a tumult as if threeregiments of Turks had been behind him.

  But the shepherd boys by no means took the matter in jest. Every onefor himself, they scampered off with terror-stricken countenances,leaving buckets, tubs, and water-rat, and never paused till theyreached the village, where they immediately alarmed the inhabitants.

  When Vendel had recovered from his panic, he began to reflect on theprobable consequences of this imprudent sally: he should now bediscovered, betrayed, and put in spirits. And this was the fate thatawaited him!

  The unfortunate man crept up his hill of observation, and strained hiseyes towards the village. In a very short time his worst fears beganto be realized: a party of men, armed with pitchforks and scythes,were evidently making for his place of concealment. To have remainedthere longer would have been tempting Providence; and so the poor mantook up his mantle with great resignation, and sighing deeply,wandered out into the fields of buck-wheat, where he lay down andlistened anxiously to the distant uproar with which the excitedvillagers hunted the fearful spectre; and to this day the true legendof the "earth-man" is told in the district.

  When all was quiet, Vendel rose and withdrew farther from thedangerous vicinity of his hut. For three whole days he wanderedthrough thorns and bushes, sleeping in the open air, and supportinglife with earth-nuts and maize. Three miserable fast days they were,which deprived him of at least twenty pounds of bodily weight, butcertainly prolonged his life by three years! On the fourth day heheard a great deal of firing at about a mile's distance, and atintervals the sound of great guns. He even saw some of the ballslazily rebounding from the ground at the end of their flight, and,picking up one, he put it into his pocket in testimony of the battlehe had seen, and of all he had gone through during the war.

  Towards noon, the firing ceased, and in the evening, as Vendel waspreparing to lie down under the shelter of a ridge of potatoes, a formstarted from the treacherous wood beside him in pelisse and dolmany,with a red csako, short boots, and a musket in his hand. He lookedabout him--perhaps he was pursued, perhaps pursuing--he seemedevidently in a dilemma of some kind; as he approached, however, Vendelrecognised Matyas Kormas, one of the noble proprietors of thedistrict--but in what a plight! He who had gone out with such zeal,torn and covered with mud; his hair and moustache, wont to be sostiffly waxed, hanging dolefully about his face, and his countenanceexpressive of anxiety and alarm. Vendel was much relieved, however, tosee that there were no marks of blood about him; but his ardour seemedconsiderably abated, and he by no means now looked as if he coulddevour his enemies.

  "Good evening, Vendel!" he exclaimed in a mild tone, on recognisingthe brewer; "can you tell me in what direction the village lies?"

  Vendel immediately offered to conduct him, thinking he might have abetter chance of safety by returning with an armed man, the wholecountry being now unsafe.

  "I only wanted to know in order that I might keep away from it,"replied Matyas, "for the enemy occupy it at present; but let us getdown into the underwood, Vendel; we can hide there together."

  "Then are they really such ferocious people?" asked Vendel anxiously.

  "Hiai! my friend, you had better ask no questions--you never saw suchthings! if we had not retreated, there would not have been a man of usleft! they have a peculiar way of holding their muskets, and nevermiss a shot!"

  "Why did you not hold yours the same way?" asked Vendel simply.

  "Why, you see, Providence was against us; there is no firing againstthat! Come, let us make a hole somewhere, and hide these arms; for ifthey find out that I have come from the camp, I shall be takenprisoner, and brought back again."

  The two patriots hastened to gain that underground which stretchesfrom Cs---- to the Danube, in which they concealed themselves for awhole day and a half, enduring all the glories and privations of war,and encouraging one another through all their difficulties anddangers. On the evening of the second day, however, our heroes were ashungry as wolves, and had began to turn their thoughts to theprocuring food. Slowly and stealthily they left the wood, and, not farfrom the outskirts, they descried a waggon lying overturned in one ofthe cross roads.

  Matyas, seeing that nobody was near it, broke a willow sapling fromthe roadside, and, desiring Vendel to lie down on the ground and shuthis eyes, he rushed towards the deserted waggon, and attacked it withgreat fury.

  "Defend yourselves!--surrender! Who dares resist?" he cried, beatingthe waggon with his wand; while Vendel, who lay with his face buriedin the grass, firmly believed that his friend had put to flight atleast three hundred Frenchmen! "The day is ours!" exclaimed Matyas atlast, returning flushed and triumphant from the strife; "let us seizethe spoil!"

  If Vendel had hitherto any doubts as to the enemy's capacity fordigesting iron, they were entirely removed on his trying to bite thebread taken from the waggon. They were obliged to steep it for twodays in the Danube; but they ate it for all that, and Vendel thoughthe had never eaten anything with so good an appetite before.

  At last, Heaven delivered our country from its scourge. When Napoleonhad seen the Miskolcz bread, the Debreczen honeycakes, the Vasvarcsakany,[75] the Kecskemet kulacs,[76] the Ugocsa horned-owls, and theComorn figs--without having obtained the chief object of hisenterprise in the person of Vendel-gazda--he returned home again withhis army; or, in other words, we drove them out of the country--whichis sacred truth, although envious historians wish to conceal it.

  [Footnote 75: A wind instrument.]

  [Footnote 76: A sort of wooden flask.]

  When these glad tidings spread through the land, the woods and maizefields began to be depopulated; and every one returned to hisancestral abode, to relate his warlike adventures to his anxiousfamily, who listened with breathless interest as he described how hehad defended himself against at least thirty of the enemy, and carriedoff their ammunition waggons; how a ball had been fired into hisbreast, while he was only saved by a large silver button, and theletters of nobility which he always carried about him; and finally,how his musket, igniting in the heat of the battle, had burst into athousand pieces! These, and still more marvellous adventures, ourjovial ancestors recited after the war. Heaven bless them! if they hadallowed themselves to be shot, where should we have been now? andwithout us--hm!

  Among the rest, Matyas-ur and Vendel-gazda left their place ofconcealment, and returned to the village; and indeed it was high time,for they were both terribly pulled down, especially the brewer, whowas a mere shadow of his former self, and only resembled thatrespectable personage as a dried pear does a green one. Moreover, suchwas the tattered and dirty condition to which their wandering life hadreduced them, that they might have exhibited themselves with perfectconfidence at twentypence per head, _sub titulo_--Finns!

  The danger once over, it was an easy matter for Matyas-ur. He had onlyto go home to be recognised and welcomed at once; but with Vendel thecase was otherwise. As he reached his home, the sound of music anddancing struck painfully on his ear. "Hm!" he thought, "they do notseem to be mourning much for me!" He listened again, and heard thenoise of gay laughter and loud talking. At last he opened the door.The large guest-room was full of gaily-dressed people, who werecrowded in every corner; while the space in the middle was occupied bythe dancers. With some difficulty, Vendel squeezed through the crowd,and there, in the midst of all, was his beloved wife, with her cap onone side, dancing with Andras-gazda, whose skin shone twice as much asit was wont. Hanzli's subdued-looking face also appeared among thecrowd
; but the youth was evidently out of spirits, and sat moody andsilent amidst the gay revellers. Meanwhile the beer and wine flowedcopiously, and the beneficent odour of all species of eatablestantalized the nose of the hungry wanderer.

  "Oh! unhappy man!" cried Vendel, clapping his hands together; that wasall he said--but how much was expressed in the words!--for a fewmoments he gazed round him in silence. "Stop!" he roared at last,stamping on the ground; on which his little dog came out from belowthe table, and began barking at his sorely-tried master. _His ownpoodle barked at him!_ "Who is this man?" exclaimed several of theguests. "Where do you come from, countryman?" asked Andras-gazda."Give the poor wretch a glass of wine; he must be some beggar!" saidMistress Vicza, adjusting her cap.

  This was more than the exemplary patience of the Bohemian could bear."Hear, all of you!" he roared; "I am myself, and nobody else!"

  One and all shook their heads. The voice was Vendel's, but the face,the figure, none recognised.

  "Not even you, Hanzli?" cried Vendel in despair; "not even youremember me?"

  Hanzli looked at him gravely, then grinned, then again staredvacantly, without the slightest recognition.

  "Ah, this is indeed desperate!" groaned the unfortunate man, as,seizing one of the four-quart bottles of beer which stood on thetable, he emptied it at one draught; and this was his redemption. Bythis means he was recognised at once; and "Vendel-batya!""Vendel-gazda!" "Nagyuram!" "Kisuram!" "Edes uram!"[77] resounded onevery side; while they all fell upon him, embraced, kissed him, andled him out to dance. He was very well received indeed, and a littleexplanation set everything to rights.

  [Footnote 77: Great master, Little master, Dear master; these beingtitles carefully distinguished from each other by the peasants.]

  The cause of the feasting and merriment was Andras's wedding withPanna, the little girl for whom he had fought with the hussar; whichsolemnity was celebrated jointly with the retreat of the French; andnow that there was Vendel-gazda's miraculous return to rejoice atbesides, the festivities were kept up till late next morning.

  Thus ended the trials and adventures of the brewer of B----; and fromthis day forward, Heaven showered her blessings upon him; sons anddaughters grew up around him, some fair, and some dark, but all fat,and each one finer and prettier than the other.