by Mór Jókai
PART IV
SATAN LACZI
CHAPTER I
Count Vavel (thus he was addressed on his letters) had arranged anobservatory in the tower of the Nameless Castle. Here was his telescope,by the aid of which he viewed the heavens by night, and by day observedthe doings of his fellow-men. He noticed everything that went on abouthim. He peered into the neighboring farm-yards and cottages, was aspectator of the community's disputes as well as its diversions. Oflate, the chief object of his telescopic observations during the daywere the doings at the neighboring manor. He was the "Lion-head" and the"Council of Ten" in one person. The question was, whether the newmistress of the manor, the unmarried baroness, should "cross the Bridgeof Sighs"? His telescope told him that this woman was young and veryfair; and it told him also that she lived a very secluded life. Shenever went beyond the village, nor did she receive any visitors.
In the neighborhood of Neusiedl Lake one village was joined to another,and these were populated by pleasure-loving and sociable families ofdistinction. It was therefore a difficult matter for the well-born manor woman who took up a residence in the neighborhood to avoid the jovialsociability which reigned in those aristocratic circles.
Count Vavel himself had been overwhelmed with hospitable attentions thefirst year of his occupancy of the Nameless Castle; but his refusals toaccept the numerous invitations had been so decided that they were notrepeated.
He frequently saw through his telescope the same four-horse equipageswhich had once stopped in front of his own gates drive into the court atthe manor; and he recognized in the occupants the same jovial blades,the eligible young nobles, who had honored him with their visits. Henoticed, too, that none of the visitors spent a night at the manor. Veryoften the baroness did not leave her room when a caller came; it mayhave been that she had refused to receive him on the plea of illness.During the winter Count Vavel frequently saw his fair neighbor skatingon the frozen cove; while a servant propelled her companion over the icein a chair-sledge.
On these occasions the count would admire the baroness's gracefulfigure, her intrepid movements, and her beautiful face, which wasflushed with the exercise and by the cutting wind.
But what pleased him most of all was that the baroness never once duringher skating exercises cast an inquiring glance toward the windows of theNameless Castle--not even when she came quite close to it.
On Christmas eve she, like Count Vavel, arranged a Christmas tree forthe village children. The little ones hastened from the manor to thecastle, and repeated wonderful tales of the gifts they had received fromthe baroness's own hands.
Every Sunday the count saw the lady from the manor take her way tochurch, on foot if the roads were good; and on her homeward way he couldsee her distribute alms among the beggars who were ranged along eitherside of the road. This the count did not approve. He, too, gaveplenteously to the poor, but through the village pastor, and only tothose needy ones who were too modest to beg openly. The street beggarshe repulsed with great harshness--with one exception. This was aone-legged man, who had lost his limb at Marengo, and who stationedhimself regularly beside the cross at the end of the village. Here hewould stand, leaning on his crutches, and the count, in driving past,would always drop a coin into the maimed warrior's hat.
One day when the carriage drew near the cross, Count Vavel saw the oldsoldier, as usual, but without his crutches. Instead, he leaned on awalking-stick, and stood on two legs.
The count stopped the carriage, and asked: "Are not you the one-leggedsoldier?"
"I am, your lordship," replied the man; "but that angel, the baroness,has had a wooden leg made for me,--I could dance with it if Iwished,--so I don't need to beg any more, for I can cut wood now, andthus earn my living. May God bless her who has done this for me!"
The count was dissatisfied with himself. This woman understoodeverything better than he did. He felt that she was his rival, and fromthis feeling sprang the desire to compete with her.
An opportunity very soon offered. One day the count received from thereverend Herr Mercatoris a gracefully worded appeal for charity. The newowner of Fertoeszeg had interested herself in the fate of the destitutechildren whose fathers had gone to the war, and, in order to rendertheir condition more comfortable, had undertaken to found a home forthem. She had already given the necessary buildings, and had furnishedthem. She now applied to the sympathies of the well-to-do residents ofthe county for assistance to educate the children. In addition to foodand shelter, they required teachers. Such sums as were necessary forthis purpose must be raised by a general subscription from thecharitably inclined.
The count promptly responded to this request. He sent the pastor fiftylouis d'or. But in the letter which accompanied the gift he stipulatedthat the boy whose mother was in prison should not be removed from FrauSchmidt's care to the children's asylum.
It was quite in the order of things that the baroness should acknowledgethe munificent gift by a letter of thanks.
This missive was beautifully written. The orthography was singularlyfaultless. The expressions were gracefully worded and artless; nothingof flattery or sentimentality--merely courteous gratefulness. The letterconcluded thus:
"You will pardon me, I trust, if I add that the stipulation which youappend to your generous gift surprises me; for it means either that youdisapprove the principle of my undertaking, or you do not wish totransfer to another the burden you have taken upon yourself. If thelatter be the reason, I am perfectly willing to agree to thestipulation; if it be the former, then I should like very much to hearyour objection, in order that I may justify my action."
This was a challenge that could not be ignored. The count, of course,would have to convince his fair neighbor that he was in perfect sympathywith the principle of her philanthropic project, and he wroteaccordingly; but he added that he disapproved the prison-like system ofchildren's asylums, the convict-like regulations of such institutions._He_ thought the little ones would be better cared for, and muchhappier, were they placed in private homes, to grow up as useful men andwomen amid scenes and in the sphere of life to which they belonged.
The count's polemic reply was not without effect. The baroness, who hadher own views on the matter, was quite as ready to take the field, withas many theoretic and empiric data and recognized authorities as hadbeen her opponent. The count one day would despatch a letter to themanor, and Baroness Katharina would send her reply the next--eachdetermined not to remain the other's debtor. The count's epistles weredictated to Marie; he added only the letter V to the signature.
This battle on paper was not without practical results. The baronesspaid daily visits to her "Children's Home"; and on mild spring days thecount very often saw her sitting on the open veranda, with her companionand one or two maid-servants, sewing at children's garments until latein the evening. The count, on his part, sent every day for his littleprotege, and spent several hours patiently teaching the lad, in orderthat he might compete favorably with the baroness's charges. The taskwas by no means an easy one, as the lad possessed a very dull brain.This was, it must be confessed, an excellent thing for the orphans. Ifthe motherly care which the baroness lavished on her charges were to begiven to all destitute orphans in children's asylums, then the "convictsystem" certainly was a perfect one; while, on the other hand, if apreceptor like Count Vavel took it upon himself to instruct a forsakenlad, then one might certainly expect a genius to evolve from the littledullard growing up in a peasant's cottage.
Ultimately, however, the victory fell to the lady. It happened asfollows:
One day the count was again the recipient of a letter from his neighborat the manor (they had not yet exchanged verbal communication).
The letter ran thus:
"HERR COUNT: I dare say you know that the father of your little protegeis no other than the notorious robber, Satan Laczi, whom it isimpossible to capture. The mother of the lad was arrested on suspicion.She lived in the village under her own honest family name--Satan
Laczibeing only a thief's appellation. As nothing could be proved againsther, the woman has been set at liberty, and has returned to the village.Here she found every door closed against her--for who would care toshelter the wife of a robber? At last the poor woman came to me, andbegged me to give her work. My servants are greatly excited because Ihave taken her into my employ; but I am convinced that the woman isinnocent and honest. Were I to cast her adrift, she might become whatshe has been accused of being--the accomplice of thieves. I know shewill conduct herself properly with me. I tell you all this because, ifyou approve what I have done, you will permit the lad you have takenunder your protection to come to the manor, where he would be with hismother. If, however, you condemn my action, you will refuse to grant myrequest, and generously continue to care for the lad in your own way.The decision I leave to you."
Count Vavel was forced to capitulate. The baroness's action--taking intoher household the woman who had been repulsed by all the world--was sopraiseworthy, so sublime, that nothing could approach it. That same dayhe sent the lad with Frau Schmidt to the manor, and herewith thecorrespondence between himself and the baroness ceased. There was nofurther subject for argument.
And yet, Count Vavel could not help but think of this woman. Who wasshe?
He had sought to learn from his foreign correspondents somethingconcerning the Baroness Katharina, but could gain no information savethat which we have already heard from the county physician: disappointedlove and shame at her rejection had driven the youthful baroness to thissecluded neighborhood.
This reason, however, did not altogether satisfy Count Vavel. Women,especially young women, rarely quit the pleasures of the gay worldbecause of one single disappointment.
And for Count Vavel mistrust was a duty; for the reader must, ere this,have suspected that the count and the mysterious man of the RueMouffetard were identical, and that Marie was none other than the childhe had rescued from her enemies. Here in this land, where orderprevailed, but where there were no police, he was guarding the treasureintrusted to his care, and he would continue to guard her until relievedof the duty.
But when would the relief come?
One year after another passed, and the hour he dreamed of seemed stillfurther away. When he had accepted the responsible mission he had saidto himself: "In a year we shall gain our object, and I shall bereleased."
But hope had deceived him; and as the years passed onward, he began torealize how vast, how enormous, was the task he had undertaken. It waswithin the possibilities that he, a young man in the flower of hisyouth, should be able to bury himself in an unknown corner of the world,to give up all his friends, to renounce everything that made life worthliving, but that he should bury with himself in his silk-lined tomb ayoung girl to whom he had become everything, who yet might not evendream of becoming anything to him--that was beyond human might.
More and more he realized that his old friend's prophetic words wereapproaching fulfilment: "The child will grow to be a lovely woman.Already she is fond of you; she will love you then. Then what?"
"I shall look upon myself as the inhabitant of a different planet," hehad replied; and he had kept his promise.
But the little maid had not promised anything; and if, perchance, sheguessed the weighty secret of her destiny, whence could she have takenthe strength of mind to battle against what threatened to drive even thestrong man to madness?
Ludwig was thirty-one years old, the fourth year in this house ofvoluntary madmen. With extreme solicitude he saw the child grow towomanhood, blessed with all the magic charms of her sex. Gladly would hehave kept her a child had it been in his power. He treated her as achild--gave her dolls and the toys of a child; but this could not go onforever. Deeply concerned, Ludwig observed that Marie's countenancebecame more and more melancholy, and that now it rarely expressedchildlike naivete. A dreamy melancholy had settled upon it. And of whatdid she dream? Why was she so sad? Why did she start? Why did the bloodrush to her cheeks when he came suddenly into her presence?
