CHAPTER VIII
PETER GYURICZA'S CONSORT
After the March days, I quitted the Petofis and went into anotherlodging. I had got on so well that I could maintain a bachelor'sestablishment, consisting of two rooms, which I furnished myself.Properly speaking, it only became a bachelor's establishment when Ientered, for before I took it it was occupied by a little old woman whokept a registry office for providing respectable families with servants.Every one knew "Mami," as she was called.... I was very well satisfiedwith my lodging, which quite answered all my requirements. It had thisone drawback, however, that a whole mob of cooks, parlour-maids, andnursery-maids were constantly opening my door under the persuasion thatI could provide them with places, and they disturbed my work terribly.Besides, this constant flow of petticoats towards my door was sufficientof itself to bring a young man into disrepute. From the apartments atthe opposite end of the corridor it was possible to catch a glimpse ofmy door, and it was just in these very apartments that Rosa Laborfalvylived. I was afraid that _some one_ might think ill of me.
It was no longer the _Weltschmerz_, but a _Privatschmerz_,[32] thatafflicted me.
[Footnote 32: _Privat fajdalmas_--private anxiety.]
Again I had applied myself to portrait-painting. A tall, slender girl ina white atlas dress, with large black eyes, and coal-black ringlets _al'Anglaise_ rolling down to her shoulders, was standing on my easel; Iwas just giving it the finishing-touch, I had no need for the originalto be my model. I have the portrait to this day.
All at once there came a knocking at my door "Come in!" The door opened,and in came a stylish young peasant girl. I thought as much; here wehave another nursery-maid in search of a place.
"No, no; go away! The registry-office lady does not live here!" said Iviciously, for I was busy with my portrait; and perceiving that theintruder did not retire even now, I bawled out, not over gently: "InHeaven's name, be off, my dear!"
At this the peasant girl began to laugh. Had I not heard that laughingvoice somewhere before? I turned round and looked at her, and the more Ilooked, the more astonished I felt. It was Bessy!
She wore a bright red gown trimmed with yellowish-green flowers, overthat a dark blue, double-bordered damask apron, and a black silk bodicewith puff sleeves. Above the bodice was a bib with beautifullyembroidered palm flowers; on her head sat a cockscomb like Haube,frilled with starched thread-lace; on her arm she carried a coveredbasket by the handle.
Her face was ruddy and bronzed from exposure to the sun, and a sort ofwaggish little imp was nestling provocatively in her smiling features. Icouldn't believe my own eyes.
"What! don't you know me?" she cried, with a merry laugh. "I'm Bessy!"
I saw that, but for the life of me I could not conceive what her objectwas in coming masquerading like this through the streets of Buda inbroad daylight. And to hit upon _my_ lodgings of all places in theworld!
"Madame de Bagotay?" I stammered in my confusion.
"Oh, I am no longer Madame Bagotay, but Madame Peter Gyuricza!"
"What on earth do you mean? Mrs. Gyuricza! The wife of a herdsman?"
My amazement was so genuine that Bessy clapped her hands together withglee.
"Then you actually don't know about it? They haven't written to you fromhome?"
"It is a long time since I received a letter from home."
"But this was a scandal which set seven counties in an uproar; there hasbeen nothing like it since the French Revolution--and you call yourselfthe editor of a newspaper!"
"My paper does not meddle with purely family matters."
Bessy's face was flushed, and she began smoothing it with the palms ofboth hands; she thought, perhaps, that she would brush the tell-taleblush away.
"I have heated myself a little on that steep staircase of yours," shesaid.
She blamed the staircase for that flaming face of hers.
It then occurred to me that it would only be polite to ask my fairvisitor to take a seat. I offered her the sofa.
"Oh, dear, no! That's only for ladies! This will do quite well enoughfor me." And with that she sat down on my trunk, and put down her basketbeside it. "I really am quite tired. I have travelled by the corn-boatas far as Vacz,[33] and thence I have walked all the way to Pest."
[Footnote 33: Waitzen.]
"But you could have gone by steamer?"
"But my master[34] could not give me steamboat fare. We are poor people.Look! this is my whole provision for the journey."
[Footnote 34: _i.e._, husband.]
And with that she lifted the lid of the basket, and showed me what wasinside it: a piece of black bread, and something wrapped up in greasypaper--a piece of cheese possibly, and a garlic-seasoned sausage.
"I must keep this for my return journey."
The cynicism of the proceeding revolted me.
"But now, if you please, I should very much like to know what's themeaning of it all. Is it a practical joke you are playing upon me?"
"Oh, no! certainly not! Pray don't suppose that I have dressed up onyour account. I am now a real peasant woman, and such I mean to remain.It is a serious thing for me, I can tell you, and I've come to you, notthat you may write about it in your paper, but that you may give meadvice."
"_I_ give _you_ advice?"
"Certainly! Whom else should I ask? The whole world condemns andtramples upon me, and yet I have offended nobody, not even in thought.You are the only one I have injured, bitterly injured, so it is from youthat I must seek protection."
Woman's logic with a vengeance! I stood up in front of her, leaning onthe edge of the table. I was contriving all the time to prevent her fromseeing the portrait I was painting.
"I'll begin from the very beginning," continued the lady, lowering herlong eyelashes. "I was married. So much you know. We gave a splendidbanquet. The whole town, half the county was there. I fancy theydescribed it in the newspapers; and why shouldn't they, when therichest, best-known, and most handsome girl in the town was married tothe ideal cavalier? The lady brought a dowry of 100,000 florins, and thegentleman conveyed his bride to his ancestral castle in a carriage drawnby four fiery horses. The universal envy was a more piquant grace to themeal than the benediction of the priest. The gentlemen envied thebridegroom, and the ladies envied the bride, and every one was forced tosay: 'A couple made for each other.' Alas! the only joy which remainedin my heart when I came out of church and looked among the crowd was thethought, 'Ah! you all envy me, I know!'
"We went straight from church to my husband's castle," continued Bessy."Thirty carriages escorted us. I counted them. A splendid banquetfollowed. That day I changed my dress four times. The fifth time I puton a lace _neglige_, and the bridesmaids led me to the bridal chamber.This room was a veritable masterpiece of upholstery. A Vienna furnisherhad decorated it most elaborately. I couldn't sleep all night. The voiceof the bass viol and the clarionet resounded in my ears from thebanqueting-room, and the noise and uproar of the guests also. I did notsee my husband till the morning. Then the guests began to disperse. Onlynow and then did a cracked and piping voice mingle with the franticmusic of the gipsies. Then it was that my husband appeared before me,and a pitiable object he looked. He called me his darling little sister,and asked me if I could tell him where he lived. Then he undressedhimself on the sofa and talked such nonsense that at last I couldn'thelp laughing. 'Well,' said I to myself, 'I suppose this is always theway when they take leave of their bachelordom.' Then sleep overcame meand I dreamed the silliest stuff. _You_ were continually in my dreams.But why mention such things now?"
With that she readjusted the kerchief which was tied around herhead-dress and proceeded:--
"It was afternoon when I awoke. I must have wept a great deal in mydreams, for the pillow on which my head lay was quite wet. My husbandwas no longer reposing on the sofa, but sprawling on the floor like astuffed frog. It cost me a great deal of trouble to shake him into lifeagain. It was a still greater effort to make him understand in what
partof the world he was, and in what relations we stood to each other herebelow. After that he insisted upon my crawling with him under the sofa,and when I wouldn't hear of it, he began to cry like a child, anddemanded a pistol from me that he might blow his brains out. Then Ibrought a washing-basin and washed his face for him, and ducked it onceor twice in cold water. He roared like a baby who is being tubbed, butfinally recovered his spirits, and allowed himself to be raised from theground. Then he drank out of the water-jug, and his eyes opened, butthey were as tiny as a mole's, and I now perceived for the first timethat they were a little crooked."
During this narration Bessy laughed and laughed again.
"What a sight the fellow did look! his hair all rumpled, his moustacheall askew, his clothes soiled and tousled. He had to be dressed all overagain. I began to scold him a little, 'A pretty condition of things, Imust say!' To which he replied that I ought to have seen his comrades,Nusi, and Lenezi, and Blekus, and how _they_ had been settled. They hadall fallen under the table, and he had remained the victor. And heyawned so much as he told me this, that I had to beg him not to swallowme. At last I got him to sit down on a chair while I did his hair forhim, and he meanwhile howled and swore continually that every singlehair pained him as much as if devils were tweaking him with ironpincers."
Again the lady stopped to laugh.
"That's quite a novel state of things to you, eh? A person who becomesthe bride of an out-and-out dandy must expect to see somethingextraordinary. But perhaps there was nothing extraordinary in it afterall. And now the banquet was resumed, commencing with a pick-me-up. Ipresided at the table with a turban on my head. All our guests werestill drunk. I had to listen to very peculiar anecdotes. At such timesthe best man is he who can pay the new bride the compliment which willmake her blush the most. The lady guests had all departed in themorning, and had come to bid me good-bye one by one. They all wept overme--it is the usual thing. I was the only lady left, and glad was I whenI managed to get away from the gentlemen. I think that they had beenawaiting my withdrawal; they could then continue their interruptedpastime. Again I could not sleep; my head was throbbing. For the firsttime in my life I recognised the existence of the headache, thatfrightful curse of feminine nerves which I had hitherto always put downto affectation or imagination. How good it would have been for me ifsome one had laid a cool, refreshing hand upon my temples! Perhaps asingle word of comfort would have relieved my pangs! I waited for it invain. I sent a message. He never came to me. Suddenly, while anoppressive dream was benumbing my pain, a hellish uproar awoke me. Ifancied that Pandemonium had been let loose. It was only my husband, buthe had brought with him the whole of his drunken crew. I saw before me awhole legion of them, with guffawing, sardonic, lascivious, distortedfaces, and amongst them my husband, with the grin of a satyr on hisidiotic face. I rose in terror from my bed, cast my counterpane aroundme, fled into my waiting-maid's room, and barricaded myself behind thedoor. There he thumped and thundered for some time. I threatened tothrow myself out of the window if he broke in by force. Thereupon someof his comrades, in whom a little human feeling still remained,contrived to drag him away, though not without difficulty. Then followeda little sulky squabble on both sides. I wouldn't leave my room forfour-and-twenty hours; he wouldn't come to me. The noise that he madeover head was sufficient evidence to me that he hadn't committedsuicide in the meantime. The third day was passed by the bridal guestsin a more profitable occupation. They played at cards. The table,vigorously punched by their fists, proclaimed their handiwork aloud. Itwas like blacksmiths' apprentices pounding iron on the anvil withsledgehammers. Only in the morning did 'my lord and master' turn upwhile I was still only half-dressed. He was sober then, and, what ismore, ill-tempered. His loss at cards was mirrored in his face like aguilty conscience. He frankly told me all about it. He had been pepperedfinely, and his comrades were vile curs.... Such was my wedding."
Bessy covered her face with both her hands. Was she laughing? Was sheweeping? I cannot say.
All at once she asked me, "Did you ever play at cards?"
"Yes, but only for copper coins."
"It's all one. You ought not to waste your time with it."
"Well, really, I only spend that time on it which I do not know how toemploy otherwise, the time when I am tired of work, and want a rest fromthinking. Cards are very good things at such times."
"Then what a pity girls also do not learn the science of card-playing atschool, just as they learn to find out towns on maps, or gather theproperties of exotic plants and animals from zoological albums; then atleast a newly-married bride would understand why it is necessary tosubtract so much from her heritage to sacrifice it to such mythologicaldeities as _skiz_ and _pagat_.[35] ..."
[Footnote 35: Terms used in Tarok.]
Meanwhile I didn't interrupt her, but remained standing and looking ather with my hands resting on the table. This seemed to put her out.
"Why don't you smoke a cigar? Don't mind me."
"I would only remind you that you used always to make fun of me becauseI didn't smoke."
"True. Smoking becomes a man. A cigar or a pipe makes his face socosy-looking. Just look at any man who hasn't a pipe stuck into hismouth, and tell me if he doesn't look like a judge pronouncing judgment,or a priest shriving a penitent? Believe me, that one of the reasons whyI was faithless to you was that you didn't smoke. Well, at any rate, Ihave got my reward for it.
"Now, Muki used to suck Havannahs all day. Yes, nothing but Havannahs;but Gyuricza smokes the coarsest tobacco, and even chews pigtail."
I burst out laughing; I couldn't help it. In what ways are a woman'sgraces gained! No, I wouldn't chew pigtail if the favour of the GoddessMelpomene herself depended on it.
"I will not weary you with our diversions at Paris. There, I perceived,it is the common practice for husband and wife to take their pleasuresapart. My husband did no more than what other husbands do. It is notgood form to ask a husband who returns home at dawn where he has been.Besides, Muki, with perfect candour, informed me all about these placesof public entertainment and the joys of _les petits soupers_; once hetook me with him to these delights--I didn't ask to go again.... I wasvery glad when the season was over and we returned to our village, andafter all the bustling diversions, flirtations, visitings and boredom, Icould once more be alone and fill my straw hat with forget-me-nots onthe banks of the river, as of old on the island. You remember my visitto your rustic hut, don't you? You remember the golden thrushes who usedto speak to you? To you they said, 'Silly boy! silly boy!' to me theycried, 'What's the good! what's the good!' On returning to his estatesmy husband became quite another man: you would have said that he was achangeling. The dainty dandy became an enthusiastic agriculturist. Hewas up early, on horseback all day, went from one _puszta_ to another,and brought home ears of barley in his hat. The only things he talkedabout at home were sheepshearing and the diseases of horned cattle. Hehad a stud and a neat-herd, and of the latter he appeared to beparticularly proud. Sometimes he drove me all over his demesne in alight gig. A fine demesne it was. You might drive about it the whole dayand not see the whole of it. He showed me his herds. He told me thatherds like them were not to be had in the whole kingdom. I didn'tunderstand it. All that I could see was that the oxen had very largehorns. But the form of the herdsman really did surprise me. He was averitable ancient-hero sort of a man, such as we imagine the primevalMagyars to have been who wandered hither out of Asia. His bronzed facebeamed with health, his thick black hair whipped his shoulders with itsgreasy curls, and add to that his sun-defying glance, his statelybearing, his long mantle embroidered with tulips and cast lightly acrosshis shoulder. His white linen garment fluttered in the breeze, and whenhe raised his arm to take off his cap, the loose fluttering shortsleeves fell right back and revealed an arm like the arm of the figureof an athlete cast in bronze. 'Why, Peter,' said I, 'is it with you thatyour master is wont to wrestle?' The Hercules, thus addressed, timidlycast down his eyes and said: 'Y
es!' 'But how on earth is your masterever able to throw you?' At this question, Peter Gyuricza shifted hismantle from one shoulder to the other, and twisting his moustache,replied: 'As often as his Excellency throws me I get five florins.' Sothat was the secret of Muki's acrobatic triumphs. After that, theherdsman conducted us to the great summer farm, which was a gooddistance from the hut where the calves are put to rest at midday. There,a savoury luncheon, prepared by the wife of the herdsman, awaited us.She was a buxom, smart young woman, with roguish eyes and radiatingeyebrows, all life and freshness, a true blossom of the _puszta_.[36] Icaught myself looking repeatedly in the mirror, and making comparisonsbetween her face and my own. After luncheon we went all round the farm,and the herdsman's wife guided us from stable to stable. A thorn gotinto my foot through my slipper. The herdsman's wife bobbed down anddrew the thorn out. 'You don't feel the thorn now, do you?' she asked,flashing a look upon me. 'I do not feel it in my foot,' I replied."
[Footnote 36: _i.e._, a true heath-flower.]
Bessy paused for a moment, and smoothed her brows with both hands as ifto refresh her memory.
"I took another sort of thorn away with me. I began to be suspicious ofthe grand economical zeal of my husband. Such assiduity was not natural.Early one morning he again took horse, called to his greyhounds, andtold me not to wait for him to dinner, he would not be home tillevening. A certain instinct would not let me rest. I went out into thegarden, right to the boundary fence and into the stubble beyond, andthen I went on foot into the _puszta_, through the turnip fields and theIndian corn. Nobody saw me. The vesper-bell was ringing in the villagewhen I entered the courtyard of the herdsman. In the stubble I saw thetwo dogs hunting a hare on their own account. Truly, a Cockney sportsmanwho allows his dogs to win their own meat like that! I whistled to them,they recognised me and came leaping around me. 'Where's your master?'The dogs understood me. They began yelping and barking, and darted onbefore me helter-skelter, with their heads between their legs as if togive me to understand that they would lead me to the spot if I followedthem. They made straight for the hut. No doubt they fancied they weredoing something very knowing. When I marched in at the door the littleservant exclaimed, 'Good gracious!' and let fall the wooden trencher inwhich she was kneading some dough with a large pot-ladle, and when Iadvanced towards the dwelling-room door, she stood in my way, and said,'Please don't go in now!' I boxed her ears for her, first on the rightside and then on the left, pushed her into a cupboard and locked thedoor upon her. Then I opened the door of the dwelling-room. There wasnobody there. But the door of a little side room, which in peasants'houses is, as a rule, always open, was closed. On the table, however, Iperceived my lord's hat and his riding-whip. I made no disturbance. Theclothes of the herdsman's wife lay in a heap on a bench. I took off myclothes and put on hers carefully, one by one. I was just as you see menow."
She stood up before me and turned herself round that I might have abetter look at her.
"Then I went into the outer hut again, and picked the ladle from thefloor which the maid had let fall in her terror. It was a mess of bacondumplings that she had been engaged upon. I kneaded the dough for thedumplings, I made twelve beautiful little round ones out of it, boiledthem, beat up a nice garlic sauce with them, and poured the whole lot ofit into a varnished jug, first tasting to see that it was not oversalted. Then I tied up the jar in my kerchief, and set off with ittowards the pasturage. But another idea also occurred to me. I concealedbehind my apron my husband's riding whip that was reposing on the table,and took it away with me.
"The pasturage is pretty far from the hut. It was somewhat late when Iarrived there. The herdsman was quite impatient, and had climbed up a'look-out' tree, and when he saw my striped dress and bright redkerchief, he began to bawl out, 'Hillo! Come along, can't you! I'll giveyou what for! I'll teach you something, you cursed blockhead! What haveyou done with my dinner? A pretty time when they're already ringingvespers in the village. I suppose you've been carrying on with hishonour again? Let me catch you at it, that's all, and I'll tickle yourhide for you with my whip.' When I got up to him and lifted the kerchieffrom my head, he stopped short with his mouth open. 'Well, I never! ifit isn't her ladyship!'--'True, Peter!' said I. 'I've cooked your dinnerfor you, and now you see I've brought it to you. Your wife cannot come.She's learning French from my husband. I've also brought with me myhusband's whip. I found it on your table. You may flog with it whomeveryou like, either me or your wife.'"
Here she stopped short. She evidently meant me to find out the rest ofthe story for myself.
"Poor woman!" I murmured. I was sorry and embarrassed.
She burst out laughing.
"Don't pity me, pray! I am perfectly happy. Gyuricza did not strike mewith his whip. I am now mistress in the herdsman's hut."
And she seemed quite proud of it all!
Then she began to tell me of her new hero with real enthusiasm. He waswhat man was meant to be when first created, all strength and truth;there was nothing artificial, nothing false, nothing effeminate abouthim. "When he comes home at night he goes to the fireplace to smoke hispipe; then he empties a can of buttermilk to the very dregs. Wine isonly put upon the table on Sundays. Then he asks, 'Have you any gooddumpling soup, sweetheart?' 'Of course I have, and cured bacon and groatpottage as well.' As soon as it is ready we turn it out and sit down toit. We eat with tin spoons out of a large common dish. No invitation isneeded there. The lady herself fetches the water from the spring. Themaster drinks one half of it and offers the other half to his wife: 'Youdrink too!' And after that they don't go in for much stargazing, nor dothey care a fig for the world and all its thousand troubles. They sleepwith open doors, and the four sheep-dogs guard the house.
"At three o'clock in the morning Bessy gets up and goes into the stableto milk the cows; by dawn it must be all done. The little milking-stoolis now her throne. She pours the fresh foaming milk into the pails andtakes them into the cellar with the help of the serving maid. When theboy sounds his horn the cows must be driven out; they must be pasturedapart from the brood-cows. And all this time the master is eating hisbreakfast: peppered bacon and green leeks with good _papramorgo_,[37]and then he follows his herds out into the pastures. The reason why hecracks his whip so loudly is because he knows that some one is standingthere in the little door and looking after him. Then _she_ has to skimthe cream from the standing milk, churn the milk, and take the butter tomarket. Then she has to buckle to bread-baking. The maid is sent to heatthe oven; meanwhile she herself is kneading the dough, then she shovelsout the burning embers with the oven scoop, and wipes down the inside ofthe oven with a wet kitchen-clout; then the loaves are shot in by meansof the long baking-shovel (first of all, however, are baked the'fire-cakes,' which 'my soul'[38] loves so much), finally the 'lock-up'stone is smeared with clay and placed in front of the oven, and one mustbe ready to an instant to pull the stone from the mouth of the ovenagain and take out the loaves. Meanwhile, she has had time to prepareupon the hearth a pottage of millet and smoked bacon, and carry itquickly, pot and all, to the pasturage, so that when the mid-day bellrings, the master may have his victuals ready laid on his outspread furpelisse. After dinner, beneath the shadow of the big wild nut-tree, shemay take a nap with an apron thrown over her face. On returning home shegets out her bruised flax and heckles it, so that when the husbandreturns home he finds wife and family sitting by the distaff and singingtogether the spinning songs of the country folk, till the pigs comerunning home with a great grunting and demand their slush.--Oh, such alife as that is pure enjoyment!"
[Footnote 37: A sort of _eau-de-vie_.]
[Footnote 38: _Lelkem_, _i.e._, "My darling."]
I shook my head dubiously.
"It will bore you one day."
"Bore me! Don't you recollect when I was in your lath hut I painted thisvery life to you as my ideal?--A hut of rushes and a bed of straw. Youspoke to me of fame and glory. The lowing of kine, the tinkling ofsheep-bells, the cracking of whips
is my delight. It was so even then.Since that time I have learnt to know the great world, but it hasn'taltered me. I am full of disgust with everything that is to be found inpalaces. Those demi-men, those Sunday husbands--those refined andexquisitely polite she-sinners, those model sticklers for virtue who sinthrough the whole ten commandments day after day, and vie even with theladies of the ballet, with this difference, however, that theballet-dancers are much more modest in private than these great ladiesare in public--I am sick and weary of the whole lot of them. I wouldrather have a man who never washes his mouth after he has eaten garlic,than a man who returns home from an orgie and pretends he has been to apolitical conference. The famous Hamilton bed, which costs you a hundredducats if you sleep in it for a single night, is wretchedness itselfcompared to the bed of fresh straw on which I sleep. Believe me when Itell you that I am perfectly happy."
"I'll believe anything you like, but there's one circumstance I cannotunderstand. How is it that nobody disturbs this sweet idyll of yours? Isthe one man who is so confoundedly nearly interested in your happiness,is that man still alive? Does Muki Bagotay still exist anywhere in thewide world?"
"I fancy so."
"Well, if he does, I'll only say that what flows through his veins ismilk, not blood. Is he content to carry the horns of his hundred oxen? Arich and powerful landlord, a county magnate, and the master of yourideal peasant!--A thousand lightnings! if I were only in his place!"
Bessy, with a sarcastic smile, folded her hands together above herknees.
"Well, come now! If you were in dear Muki's place what would _you_ do?"
"I'll tell you. I wouldn't call Peter Gyuricza out, but one fine day Iwould put my democratic principles on the shelf, and collecting myheydukes and my rustics, I'd give chase to the herdsman, trounce himaccording to his deserts, and kick him out of my employment. I would getanother herdsman; but as for my wife, I'd tie her to the pummel of mysaddle, and drag her like that to my castle. That's what _I_ would do,were I the husband of Muki Bagotay's wife!"
I had certainly got a little heated. It was only afterwards that Ireflected, "What's Hecuba to me? Why should I bother my head about PeterGyuricza?"
Bessy, however, laughed most heartily.
"Ha! ha! ha! You'd have done that to me, would you? You'd have tied meto your horse's tail and whipped me home, eh? How sorry I am then that Idid not choose you! What a fine thing it would have been if I could haveboasted of bearing the impression of your blows on my body! Tell me now,have you ever struck any one who was unable to hit you back?"
At this I was fairly put to silence.
"But let that be! You could not be so good a Muki Bagotay as MukiBagotay himself would have been if he could. He actually _did_ try thevery recipe which you now recommend. The very next day he sent hisbailiff with the verbal message to Peter Gyuricza to pack himself offforthwith, but me the bailiff was to bring straight home. The bailiffgave himself airs, and would have used force, so I gave him a sound boxon the ears, which he'll not forget in a hurry; whereupon Peter Gyuriczathrew him out of the house.
"Next day the wounded honour of the offended husband resorted to stillstronger measures: six _pandurs_[39] appeared upon the scene with swordsand pistols. Peter and I were outside in the pastures. Thither they cameafter us. But Peter was not a bit put out. He hastily called togetherhis young shepherds; there were four of them; they caught up theircudgels, and the four sheep dogs took the same side. The six _pandurs_never dreamt we should tackle them. The corporal of the _pandurs_threatened to fire if we offered the least resistance. I immediatelyrushed forward in front of Peter, and said to them, 'Very well! thereyou are! Fire!' There was a pretty rumpus, the dogs began to bark, andat last even the stolid steers got mad, and the big old bull rushed outof the herd and charged straight at the _pandurs_, who were thronginground the herdsman. They took to their heels straightway, and those whodid not leave their shakos behind them might think themselves lucky."
[Footnote 39: County police.]
"Why, that was quite an epic poem!"
"Wasn't it! But you haven't heard the end of it yet. After the repulseof the second assault, Muki began to carry on the war in grim earnest.One evening, our maid, who had been sent out as a spy, came back withthe terrifying news that his honour had sent out orders that on thefollowing day all his tenants were to assemble in the courtyard of thecastle armed with cudgels, flails, and pitchforks; to his huntsmen andheydukes also he had distributed guns and ammunition. The whole of thishost was to advance upon us in battle array on the morrow. It would havebeen well, perhaps, to have fled before them while there was yet time.But we did not fly."
"Then what was the end of it all?"
"A very droll ending indeed. When the danger was greatest, good lucksent a deliverer, a good friend, just as usually happens inhappily-constructed dramas, who intervened with a mighty hand anddiverted the stroke from our heads."
"And who was this good friend?"
"Why, who else but the bearer of this fine blonde beard!" cried she,with an ironical smile, caressing my chin.
"I? Why, I was not in that part of the country at all."
"Ah! but poets have long arms, you know. At the very moment when Mukiwas placing firearms in the hands of his peasants, freedom wasproclaimed at Pest. The rumour spread throughout the kingdom likewildfire--the Revolution had broken out. They say in Pressburg thatPetofi and you were on the Rakos[40] at the head of 40,000 peasants,and that a new Dozsa[41] war had begun. The retainers of Muki alsothronged up to his castle, not to carry me off by force, but to demandtheir liberties. 'We'll work no more!' they cried; 'we'll pay no moretithes, and no more hearth-money.'[42] Freedom had broken out with avengeance! Muki was thereupon so terrified that he fled incontinentlythrough the back door in the clothes of his lackey, and never stoppedtill he was safely out of the kingdom. I have heard nothing of himsince. So you see your mighty hand turned aside the danger that washovering over our heads. We drank your health afterwards in bigbumpers."
[Footnote 40: A plain to the east of Pest, where, from the earliesttimes, elective assemblies were held.]
[Footnote 41: George Dozsa, the leader of the Hungarian _jacquerie_ of1514, who was finally captured and executed after truly infernaltorments.]
[Footnote 42: _Fustpenz_--lit., smoke money, so much on each chimney.]
I certainly had never calculated upon success of this sort.
"Well," said I, "you have certainly disposed of Mr. Janos NepomukBagotay for a time (though I would call your attention to the fact thathe will not be very long in perceiving that there is no Dozsa war inHungary, and will then return with reinforcements), but may I ask whather ladyship your mother says to all this?"
"I should have come to that, even if you had not asked me. In fact, thisis the very thing which brings me to you. One fine evening when I wasreturning home from the maize fields, with my kerchief full of pods, Ifound an official notification nailed on the door of our hut. Thelawyer's clerk who brought it, delighted to find nobody at home, hadfastened the document to the door-post and decamped. It gave me tounderstand that Muki was bringing an action against me for adultery. Aterm was fixed, however, within which, according to custom, we mightappear before the priest at any place we liked and be reconciled ifpossible. After the lapse of six weeks the priest would make anotherattempt to bring about a reconciliation; if this did not succeed, hewould bid us go to the ----! and we should have to appear before thejudge instead!"
I now began to see to what I was indebted for the pleasure of her visit.I should very much have liked to have banged the door in her face withthe words: "I am not a lawyer, though I have served my terms!" But I lether go on.
"I immediately took down the notification from the door," she resumed,"and sent my little maid with it to town to my mother's. By way ofexplanation I wrote her a letter, a task not unattended with difficulty,as Peter Gyuricza's hut was singularly ill-provided with writingmaterials. First of all I had to manufacture ink from wild juniperberries
, then I carved a pen from a goose-quill; in place of paper Imade use of beautifully smooth maize leaves."
"Just as the Egyptians used papyrus?"
"Yes, and if papyrus was good enough for the daughters of the Pharaohs,why shouldn't maize-membranes be good enough for me? I wrote and toldher everything that had happened. I entirely justified my proceedings.If there was but one drop of justice in her composition she would bebound to acknowledge that my line of action was as clear as the day.Muki had made off with the herdsman's wife; I, following the _lextalionis_--an eye for eye--had made off with Gyuricza. He had brought anaction against me; Gyuricza would bring an action against his own wife.The pair of us stood on exactly the same legal footing. If the twodivorces were carried out, I meant to make the man of my choice mylawful husband, and would become in name what I already was in fact, thewife of Peter Gyuricza. I referred to you also in my letter."
"To me?"
"Yes. I argued that there was now no difference between peasants andgentlemen, and pointed out that since the 15th March you had omitted theprivileged '_y_'[43] from the end of your name, and had substituted forit a simple '_i_,' and you were a 'glorious patriot,' as every one knew.Nobody therefore had any reason to be ashamed of Peter Gyuricza.Besides, I did not mean that he should remain a herdsman any longer;but as soon as my mother handed over to me my patrimony (so much of it Imean as Muki had not already squandered away), I meant to purchase afarm, and Gyuricza and I would settle down upon it as independentproprietors."
[Footnote 43: The "_y_" at the end of Hungarian personal names has muchthe same value as the French _de_ or the German _von_--TR.]
The matter now really began to amuse me. I could imagine to myself theHogarthian group when the trio of ladies began spelling out syllable bysyllable the letter that had been written on a maize-leaf.
"Well! and what answer did you get?"
"The answer you may easily have anticipated. My mother replied that sherepudiated me entirely, that I should not get a farthing from her, andthat I was never again to presume to show my face in a family which Ihad so utterly disgraced."
"And did Peter know all about this?"
"I was obliged to tell him, for my mother had nearly frightened to deaththe bearer of my letter, our little serving maid. She told her that ifshe ever dared to come to town again she would have her seized and tiedto the pillory (though there wasn't one), and well flogged into thebargain; so that neither by cuffs nor entreaties was the wench to bepersuaded to go to town again. She said as much to Peter. She said shewould rather lose her place. And yet she ought to have gone everymarket-day to the town with cheese and butter, for these wares werePeter's chief means of livelihood. What was I to do now? I did this. Iresolved to take the butter and cheese to market myself."
"You? But how?"
"Not in a glass carriage, you may be sure. The market is a good twohours' journey from our hut, and the direction is marked by the churchtower. The peasant women, when they pack with wares the baskets whichthey put on their heads, make, first of all, a sort of wreath of rags,which they place below the baskets to lighten the pressure and maintainthe equilibrium."
"And you did the same?"
"Naturally! It is no greater hardship for me, surely, than for the otherpoor girls who do it. And remember, besides, that this marketing is justas great an amusement to the peasant women as a promenade concert is tofine ladies. There was only one little nuisance connected with it. Justat this time all the irrigation waters had overflowed, and all thefields and meadows between our hut and the market town were turned intoa lake, through which we had to wade."
"What! you waded through the flooded fields?"
"Oh, the water did not really come above my knees. It was only here andthere, by the side of the streams, that we had to truss up ourpetticoats pretty high, and then we took off our boots and carried themtied on to the handles of our baskets. That is how all the women go."
"And you picked your way along like that too?"
"Again and again! I might, indeed, have gone along by the dykes, butthen I should have had to turn into the village and make a circuit offour miles with the mud up to my knees. Along the even marshes, on theother hand, it is pleasant going, the soft soil does not hurt yourheels, and there are no leeches."
"But did no one see you?"
"What did I care? I quite enjoyed my aquatic promenade. It was every bitas good as bathing at Trouville, and there I had by no means so ample atoilet. On arriving in town, I at once readjusted my clothes, put on myboots, and went to sell butter and cheese right in front of my mother'shouse. It was really a capital position that I chose; a corner-housebetween two thoroughfares, opening out upon the market-place."
"And nobody recognised you?"
"Why shouldn't they? Every one recognised me, even the money-collectorwho hires out the standing-rooms. He allowed me my standing-room gratis,because I 'belonged to the place.' I was surrounded by quite a crowd ofmy former cavaliers, who bought up all my butter, and I sold my cheeseby the ounce, at fancy prices; there was quite a run upon it. Never hadPeter Gyuricza seen so much money as I brought home to him from the saleof his butter and cheese."
"And your worthy mother?"
"Alas! all that the poor thing could do was to pull down all the blindsin broad daylight. I, however, purchased with the proceeds of the butterand cheese as much salt and tobacco as we required, packed them all upin the basket, and, placing it on my head, returned through the floodsthe same way by which I came."
"And did you do this often?"
"Every market day. Sometimes it was rainy. Then the peasant woman iswont to throw her upper garment over her head, that is her umbrella. Ihad to get accustomed to that too. Once, a couple of my former younggentlemen acquaintances took it into their heads to play me a practicaljoke. They paddled a canoe out of the Danube into the submerged plain,and when I began my wading tour they paddled after me. That did _me_ noharm, but it turned out badly for them, for the peasant girls who wentwith me charged upon them like the host of Sisera, wrested the paddlesfrom their hands, and left them rocking helplessly to and fro in themidst of the waters."
"But hasn't the water all dried up now?" I asked impatiently.
"Oh, how he snaps at me! Of course! Now we can go dry-shod. Only when wecome to a ditch do we take off our shoes. But, dear heart! how I do goon gabbling without ever coming to the point. I must explain why I havecome all the way hither to you, my dear Mr. Advocate. As I will notappear before the priest to further the reconciliation project, and myhusband (my first, I mean) will do so neither, I must, of course, appearbefore the judge! and as, moreover, my mother must be admonished to handover my little property, if you would take my case up for me I should beexceedingly obliged to you."
I told her that I did not practise as an advocate, and that I had noexperience whatever of divorce proceedings, not having been taught thesubject in the schools.
Then she began to speak in a very solemn voice. She said she had neverexpected me to take up her case, but had sought me out because she hadbeen informed that the advocates with whom I had served my articles werevery eminent practitioners; she would like to entrust her double suit tothem. As, however, she feared that they would neither receive her norbelieve her if she appeared before them in her present costume, sheearnestly begged that I would give her a letter of introduction to thefirm of Molnar & Verchovszky for friendship's sake--or for any otherprice.
"Well, I can do that for you--for nothing."
To write this letter I had to sit down at my writing-table.
"May I peep and see what you write about me?"
"If you like."
I could not take offence at her curiosity.
"I'll help you!" said she, with naive archness, and went and stoodbehind my back.
I must say that she had a very odd notion of helping me. She leant rightover me so that I could feel her burning breath on my face, and thethrobbing of her heart against my shoulder. I spoiled the first sheet ofpa
per by writing last year's date at the top of it. Then I could notcall to mind the name of my client, and I thought one thing and wroteanother. Add to that that I made a mess of the simplest sentences, andwrote in a style worthy of a pedantic grammarian. Finally I gothopelessly involved in the maze of a long-winded phrase which I beganbut could not finish. That's what happens to a man when he has to listento the beating of two hearts!
It was on this self-same table that the picture stood which I havealready mentioned. I had no time to conceal it in my drawer. And whyshould I have tried to hide it? Was I bound to make a mystery of itbefore her?
Right opposite to my writing-table was a mirror on the wall. On oneoccasion, when I was pursuing an elusive word, I raised my head from mywriting-desk and saw in the mirror the figure of the woman who wasstanding behind my back. Oh, what a face was that! She was not lookinginto my letter, but at the portrait. The eyes were turned sideways, sothat the upper parts of the whites were visible; the lips were drawnaside, and the teeth clenched.
I saw this from the mirror. And this mirror, too had the property ofmaking things look green. Viewed in this magic light, the fair ladystanding behind me appeared like the Iblis of the _Thousand-and-oneNights_, who sucks the blood of her lovers and leads the dances of thedead.
I finished the letter to my old chiefs.
Then I dried it with a piece of blotting-paper. Sand I have alwayshated. I also felt, in this respect, like Stephen Szechenyi,[44] who,whenever he received a sanded-letter, used to give it first of all tohis lackey to be taken out in the hall and dusted. Before enclosing theletter, however, I turned round and handed it to her.
[Footnote 44: Count Stephen Szechenyi, "the greatest of the Magyars,"was born in 1791. He brilliantly distinguished himself at the battle ofLeipsic, and at Tolentino, in 1815, at the head of his Hussars,annihilated Murat's cavalry. After the war, he devoted himself todomestic politics with a tact, courage, and noble liberality whichspeedily made him the most popular man in Hungary. The Hungarian Academyand the Hungarian National Theatre were founded at his initiative andmainly at his expense. The breach with Austria in 1848 so preyed uponhis mind that he went mad, and was confined in an asylum, where hedestroyed himself in 1860.--TR.]
"Would you read it, please?"
The menacing spectre was no longer there. Iblis had changed into asmiling young bride.
"And how do you know that I haven't read the letter?" she asked, in herastonishment.
"My little finger whispered it to me!"
At this she burst out laughing, and pushed the letter away.
"I don't mean to read it! I know that you have written no end of goodthings about me."
I folded up my letter, sealed it and wrote the address--"Joseph Molnarand Alexander Verchovszky, Advocates." Then I handed it to her.
Still she kept standing there in front of my writing-table, twirling theletter round and round in her hands, and gazing continually at theportrait. Her face had become quite solemn. In her deeply downcast eyesthere was a suspicious brightness testifying to restrained tear-drops.
She heaved a deep sigh.
"But this is mere folly!" She thrust my letter beneath her bodice, andin a voice of real warmth and sincerity, she stammered: "I thank youmost kindly." Then she added, in a voice half grave, half gay: "But comenow! You won't write my story in the newspapers, will you?"
"I assure you it is not my practice."
"And you won't put my stupid story into a novel or a romance, eh? Atleast not while I'm alive?"
"Never! Put your mind at rest on that point."
"No; don't say never. Let it be only as long as I'm alive. But when Idie, wherever it may be, you shall receive a letter from me, which Iwill write to you at my last hour, authorizing you to write all that youknow of me."
"My dear friend, death is written much more plainly on my brow than onyours."
She shuddered. Twice she shuddered. Then she threw her basket over herarm, and took her leave. I would have escorted her to the door of theante-chamber, but she held me back.
"Stay where you are. I do not wish any one to see you paying attentionto a country wench."
When I was by myself again and thinking over the whole scene, it seemedto me as if a golden thrush were piping derisively in my ear again--
"Foolish fellow! Foolish fellow!"
For the second time I had let slip the opportunity of pilferingParadise, conceded to me by a special and peculiar favour of the gods. Icandidly confess that I am no saint.... I am a true son of Adam, of realflesh and blood. No vow binds me to an ascetic life. Let temptation cometo me again in the shape of that pretty woman to-day and she shall seewhat I am made of!... All day long these feverish imaginings haunted me.In the drawer of my writing-table was the portrait which I once wrestedin knightly tourney from her bridegroom, and which she herself had givenme to put to rights. I went again and again to my writing-table in orderto take out that portrait and have another look at it. But that otherportrait lay there on my table and would not allow it. It was muchbetter to leave the house. I occupied the whole day in strolling aboutthe town. Perhaps I may meet her somewhere in the street.
Late in the evening I returned home.
I was alone. My lackey only came to me in the morning.
I had scarcely lighted my lamp when I heard a knocking at my door. Icertainly had forgotten to shut the door of my ante-chamber, and so myvisitor had managed to penetrate so far. Who could it be at such a latehour? "Come in!"
The blood flew to my head when the door opened.
_She_ had come back!
Then she was here again!
She did not come in, however, but stood with the door-latch in her hand,as if she were afraid of me.
"It is not nice of me, I know," she stammered, with a faltering voice,"to come here so late. I have been here three times, but you were out. Imust tell you what I've heard. Don't be angry."
I begged her to come in, and took her by the hand. My heart beatfeverishly.
"The lawyers received me very well. They were both at home. They took upmy case and assured me that it was bound to result in my favour, andthat they would pay the preliminary expenses. They behaved likegentlemen. Then the conversation turned upon you. They asked how long wehad been acquainted. I told them as much as was necessary, and wound upby saying that you were the one thoroughly disinterested friend that Ipossessed. Then one of the advocates, the tall dry one I mean, said,with perfect good-nature: 'Well, if you are kindly disposed towards ouryoung friend, just tell him that _the path along which he is now rushingso impetuously leads straight to the gallows_,' whereupon the blonde,ruddy-faced man added, '_or else to suicide._' I felt I must tell youthat."
And with these words she stepped back from the door.
An icy shudder would have run down the shoulders of any other man atthese words, but the message regularly set _me_ on fire. It was my petidea they wanted me to give up, the idea which I adored even more thanmy lady-love, the idea of my youth--the idea of liberty. If any oneoffends my lady-love I will shed his blood, but let not even mylady-love interfere with my principles, as for them I am ready to pourout my own blood to the last drop.
"Be it so!" I cried passionately; "that has nothing to do with you;" andI shut the door in her face. Every fibre of my body quivered with rage.
They threaten me with the gallows, or with the suicidal dagger of aCato! I fear them not.
* * * * *
My poor chiefs! Half a year later they were rushing along the self-samepath, at the end of which so many monsters were lurking. I only lost myhair in the hands of these monsters, but they lost their heads. Theirown prophecy was fulfilled on them both.
From that day forth I was very wrath with the lady with the eyes likethe sea.