Nina Balatka

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER V

  The more Madame Zamenoy thought of the terrible tidings which hadreached her, the more determined did she become to prevent thedegradation of the connection with which she was threatened. Shedeclared to her husband and son that all Prague were already talkingof the horror, forgetting, perhaps, that any knowledge which Prague hadon the subject must have come from herself. She had, indeed, consultedvarious persons on the subject in the strictest confidence. We havealready seen that she had told Lotta Luxa and her son, and she had, ofcourse, complained frequently on the matter to her husband. She hadunbosomed herself to one or two trusty female friends who lived nearher, and she had applied for advice and assistance to two priests.To Father Jerome she had gone as Nina's confessor, and she had alsoapplied to the reverend pastor who had the charge of her own littlepeccadilloes. The small amount of assistance which her clerical alliesoffered to her had surprised her very much. She had, indeed, gone sofar as to declare to Lotta that she was shocked by their indifference.Her own confessor had simply told her that the matter was in the handsof Father Jerome, as far as it could be said to belong to the Church atall; and had satisfied his conscience by advising his dear friend touse all the resources which female persecution put at her command. "Youwill frighten her out of it, Madame Zamenoy, if you go the right wayabout it," said the priest. Madame Zamenoy was well inclined to go theright way about it, if she only knew how. She would make Nina's life aburden to her if she could only get hold of the girl, and would scrupleat no threats as to this world or the next. But she thought that herpriest ought to have done more for her in such a crisis than simplygiving her such ordinary counsel. Things were not as they used to be,she knew; but there was even yet something of the prestige of powerleft to the Church, and there were convents with locks and bars, andexcommunication might still be made terrible, and public opinion, inthe shape of outside persecution, might, as Madame Zamenoy thought,have been brought to bear. Nor did she get much more comfort fromFather Jerome. His reliance was placed chiefly on operations to becarried on with the Jew; and, failing them, on the opposition whichthe Jew would experience among his own people. "They think more of itthan we do," said Father Jerome.

  "How can that be, Father Jerome?"

  "Well, they do. He would lose caste among all his friends by such amarriage, and would, I think, destroy all his influence among them.When he perceives this more fully he will be shy enough about ithimself. Besides, what is he to get?"

  "He will get nothing."

  "He will think better of it. And you might manage something with thosedeeds. Of course he should have them sooner or later, but they might besurrendered as the price of his giving her up. I should say it might bemanaged."

  All this was not comfortable for Madame Zamenoy; and she fretted andfumed till her husband had no peace in his house, and Ziska almostwished that he might hear no more of the Jew and his betrothal. Shecould not even commence her system of persecution, as Nina did not gonear her, and had already told Lotta Luxa that she must decline todiscuss the question of her marriage any further. So, at last, MadameZamenoy found herself obliged to go over in person to the house in theKleinseite. Such visits had for many years been very rare with her.Since her sister's death and the days in which the Balatkas had beenprosperous, she had preferred that all intercourse between the twofamilies should take place at her own house; and thus, as Josef Balatkahimself rarely left his own door, she had not seen him for more thantwo years. Frequent intercourse, however, had been maintained, and auntSophie knew very well how things were going on in the Kleinseite. Lottahad no compunctions as to visiting the house, and Lotta's eyes werevery sharp. And Nina had been frequently in the Windberg-gasse, havinghitherto believed it to be her duty to attend to her aunt's behests.But Nina was no longer obedient, and Madame Zamenoy was compelled togo herself to her brother-in-law, unless she was disposed to leave theBalatkas absolutely to their fate. Let her do what she would, Nina mustbe her niece, and therefore she would yet make a struggle.

  On this occasion Madame Zamenoy walked on foot, thinking that hercarriage and horses might be too conspicuous at the arched gate inthe little square. The carriage did not often make its way over thebridge into the Kleinseite, being used chiefly among the suburbs of theNew Town, where it was now well known and quickly recognised; and shedid not think that this was a good opportunity for breaking into newground with her equipage. She summoned Lotta to attend her, and afterher one o'clock dinner took her umbrella in her hand and went forth.She was a stout woman, probably not more than forty-five years of age,but a little heavy, perhaps from too much indulgence with her carriage.She walked slowly, therefore; and Lotta, who was nimble of foot andquick in all her ways, thanked her stars that it did not suit hermistress to walk often through the city.

  "How very long the bridge is, Lotta!" said Madame Zamenoy.

  "Not longer, ma'am, than it always has been," said Lotta, pertly.

  "Of course it is not longer than it always has been; I know that; butstill I say it is very long. Bridges are not so long in other places."

  "Not where the rivers are narrower," said Lotta. Madame Zamenoy trudgedon, finding that she could get no comfort from her servant, and at lastreached Balatka's door. Lotta, who was familiar with the place, enteredthe house first, and her mistress followed her. Hanging about the broadpassage which communicated with all the rooms on the ground-floor, theyfound Souchey, who told them that his master was in bed, and that Ninawas at work by his bedside. He was sent in to announce the grandarrival, and when Madame Zamenoy entered the sitting-room Nina wasthere to meet her.

  "Child," she said, "I have come to see your father."

  "Father is in bed, but you can come in," said Nina.

  "Of course I can go in," said Madame Zamenoy, "but before I go in letme know this. Has he heard of the disgrace which you purpose to bringupon him?"

  Nina drew herself up and made no answer; whereupon Lotta spoke. "Theold gentleman knows all about it, ma'am, as well as you do."

  "Lotta, let the child speak for herself. Nina, have you had theaudacity to tell your father--that which you told me?"

  "I have told him everything," said Nina; "will you come into his room?"Then Madame Zamenoy lifted up the hem of her garment and steppedproudly into the old man's chamber.

  By this time Balatka knew what was about to befall him, and was makinghimself ready for the visit. He was well aware that he should be sorelyperplexed as to what he should say in the coming interview. He couldnot speak lightly of such an evil as this marriage with a Jew; nor whenhis sister-in-law should abuse the Jews could he dare to defend them.But neither could he bring himself to say evil words of Nina, or tohear evil words spoken of her without making some attempt to screenher. It might be best, perhaps, to lie under the bed-clothes and saynothing, if only his sister-in-law would allow him to lie there. "AmI to come in with you, aunt Sophie?" said Nina. "Yes child," said theaunt; "come and hear what I have to say to your father." So Ninafollowed her aunt, and Lotta and Souchey were left in the sitting-room.

  "And how are you, Souchey?" said Lotta, with unusual kindness of tone."I suppose you are not so busy but you can stay with me a few minuteswhile she is in there?"

  "There is not so much to do that I cannot spare the time," saidSouchey.

  "Nothing to do, I suppose, and less to get?" said Lotta.

  "That's about it, Lotta; but you wouldn't have had me leave them?"

  "A man has to look after himself in the world; but you were alwayseasy-minded, Souchey."

  "I don't know about being so easy-minded. I know what would make meeasy-minded enough."

  "You'll have to be servant to a Jew now."

  "No; I'll never be that."

  "I suppose he gives you something at odd times?"

  "Who? Trendellsohn? I never saw the colour of his money yet, and do notwish to see it."

  "But he comes here--sometimes?"

  "Never, Lotta. I haven't seen Anton Trendellsohn within the doors thesesix mo
nths."

  "But she goes to him?"

  "Yes; she goes to him."

  "That's worse--a deal worse."

  "I told her how it was when I saw her trotting off so often to theJews' quarter. 'You see too much of Anton Trendellsohn,' I said to her;but it didn't do any good."

  "You should have come to us, and have told us."

  "What, Madame there? I could never have brought myself to that; she isso upsetting, Lotta."

  "She is upsetting, no doubt; but she don't upset me. Why didn't youtell me, Souchey?"

  "Well, I thought that if I said a word to her, perhaps that would beenough. Who could believe that she would throw herself at once into aJew's arms--such a fellow as Anton Trendellsohn, too, old enough to beher father, and she the bonniest girl in all Prague?"

  "Handsome is that handsome does, Souchey."

  "I say she's the sweetest girl in all Prague; and more's the pity sheshould have taken such a fancy as this."

  "She mustn't marry him, of course, Souchey."

  "Not if it can be helped, Lotta."

  "It must be helped. You and I must help it, if no one else can do so."

  "That's easy said, Lotta."

  "We can do it, if we are minded--that is, if you are minded. Only thinkwhat a thing it would be for her to be the wife of a Jew! Think of hersoul, Souchey!"

  Souchey shuddered. He did not like being told of people's souls,feeling probably that the misfortunes of this world were quiteheavy enough for a poor wight like himself, without any addition inanticipation of futurity. "Think of her soul, Souchey," repeated Lotta,who was at all points a good churchwoman.

  "It's bad enough any way," said Souchey.

  "And there's our Ziska would take her to-morrow in spite of the Jew."

  "Would he now?"

  "That he would, without anything but what she stands up in. And he'dbehave very handsome to anyone that would help him."

  "He'd be the first of his name that ever did, then. I have known thetime when old Balatka there, poor as he is now, would give a florinwhen Karil Zamenoy begrudged six kreutzers."

  "And what has come of such giving? Josef Balatka is poor, and KarilZamenoy bids fair to be as rich as any merchant in Prague. But nomatter about that. Will you give a helping hand? There is nothing Iwouldn't do for you, Souchey, if we could manage this between us."

  "Would you now?" And Souchey drew near, as though some closer bargainmight be practicable between them.

  "I would indeed; but, Souchey, talking won't do it."

  "What will do it?"

  Lotta paused a moment, looking round the room carefully, till suddenlyher eyes fell on a certain article which lay on Nina's work-table."What am I to do?" said Souchey, anxious to be at work with theprospect of so great a reward.

  "Never mind," said Lotta, whose tone of voice was suddenly changed."Never mind it now at least. And, Souchey, I think you'd bettergo to your work. We've been gossiping here ever so long."

  "Perhaps five minutes; and what does it signify?"

  "She'd think it so odd to find us here together in the parlour."

  "Not odd at all."

  "Just as though we'd been listening to what they'd been saying. Gonow, Souchey--there's a good fellow; and I'll come again the day afterto-morrow and tell you. Go, I say. There are things that I must thinkof by myself." And in this way she got Souchey to leave the room.

  "Josef," said Madame Zamenoy, as she took her place standing byBalatka's bedside--"Josef, this is very terrible." Nina also wasstanding close by her father's head, with her hand upon her father'spillow. Balatka groaned, but made no immediate answer.

  "It is terrible, horrible, abominable, and damnable," said MadameZamenoy, bringing out one epithet after the other with renewed energy.Balatka groaned again. What could he say in reply to such an address?

  "Aunt Sophie," said Nina, "do not speak to father like that. He isill."

  "Child," said Madame Zamenoy, "I shall speak as I please. I shall speakas my duty bids me speak. Josef, this that I hear is very terrible. Itis hardly to be believed that any Christian girl should think ofmarrying--a Jew."

  "What can I do?" said the father. "How can I prevent her?"

  "How can you prevent her, Josef? Is she not your daughter? Does shemean to say, standing there, that she will not obey her father? Tellme. Nina, will you or will you not obey your father?"

  "That is his affair, aunt Sophie; not yours."

  "His affair! It is his affair, and my affair, and all our affairs.Impudent girl!--brazen-faced, impudent, bad girl! Do you not know thatyou would bring disgrace upon us all?"

  "You are thinking about yourself, aunt Sophie; and I must think formyself."

  "You do not regard your father, then?"

  "Yes, I do regard my father. He knows that I regard him. Father, is ittrue that I do not regard you?"

  "She is a good daughter," said the father.

  "A good daughter, and talk of marrying a Jew!" said Madame Zamenoy."Has she your permission for such a marriage? Tell me that at once,Josef, that I may know. Has she your sanction for--for--for thisaccursed abomination?" Then there was silence in the room for a fewmoments. "You can at any rate answer a plain question, Josef,"continued Madame Zamenoy. "Has Nina your leave to betroth herself tothe Jew, Trendellsohn?"

  "No, I have not got his leave," said Nina.

  "I am speaking to your father, miss," said the enraged aunt.

  "Yes; you are speaking very roughly to father, and he is ill. ThereforeI answer for him."

  "And has he not forbidden you to think of marrying this Jew?"

  "No, he has not," said Nina.

  "Josef, answer for yourself like a man," said Madame Zamenoy. "Have younot forbidden this marriage? Do you not forbid it now? Let me at anyrate hear you say that you have forbidden it." But Balatka foundsilence to be his easiest course, and answered not at all. "What am Ito think of this?" continued Madame Zamenoy. "It cannot be that youwish your child to be the wife of a Jew!"

  "You are to think, aunt Sophie, that father is ill, and that he cannotstand against your violence."

  "Violence, you wicked girl! It is you that are violent."

  "Will you come out into the parlour, aunt?"

  "No, I will not come out into the parlour. I will not stir fromthis spot till I have told your father all that I think about it.Ill, indeed! What matters illness when it is a question of eternaldamnation!" Madame Zamenoy put so much stress upon the latter wordthat her brother-in-law almost jumped from under the bed-clothes. Ninaraised herself, as she was standing, to her full height, and a smile ofderision came upon her face. "Oh, yes! I daresay you do not mind it,"said Madame Zamenoy. "I daresay you can laugh now at all the pains ofhell. Castaways such as you are always blind to their own danger; butyour father, I hope, has not fallen so far as to care nothing for hisreligion, though he seems to have forgotten what is due to his family."

  "I have forgotten nothing," said old Balatka.

  "Why then do you not forbid her to do this thing?" demanded MadameZamenoy. But the old man had recognised too well the comparativesecurity of silence to be drawn into argument, and therefore merely hidhimself more completely among the clothes. "Am I to get no answer fromyou, Josef?" said Madame Zamenoy. No answer came, and therefore she wasdriven to turn again upon Nina.

  "Why are you doing this thing, you poor deluded creature? Is it theman's money that tempts you?"

  "It is not the man's money. If money could tempt me, I could have itelsewhere, as you know."

  "It cannot be love for such a man as that. Do you not know that he andhis father between them have robbed your father of everything?"

  "I know nothing of the kind."

  "They have; and he is now making a fool of you in order that he may getwhatever remains."

  "Nothing remains. He will get nothing."

  "Nor will you. I do not believe that after all he will ever marry you.He will not be such a fool."

  "Perhaps not, aunt; and in that case you will
have your wish."

  "But no one can ever speak to you again after such a condition. Do youthink that I or your uncle could have you at our house when all theworld shall know that you have been jilted by a Jew?"

  "I will not trouble you by going to your house."

  "And is that all the satisfaction I am to have?"

  "What do you want me to say?"

  "I want you to say that you will give this man up, and return to yourduty as a Christian."

  "I will never give him up--never. I would sooner die."

  "Very well. Then I shall know how to act. You will not be a bit nearermarrying him; I can promise you that. You are mistaken if you thinkthat in such a matter as this a girl like you can do just as shepleases." Then she turned again upon the poor man in bed. "JosefBalatka, I am ashamed of you. I am indeed--I am ashamed of you."

  "Aunt Sophie," said Nina, "now that you are here, you can say what youplease to me; but you might as well spare father."

  "I will not spare him. I am ashamed of him--thoroughly ashamed of him.What can I think of him when he will lie there and not say a word tosave his daughter from the machinations of a filthy Jew?"

  "Anton Trendellsohn is not a filthy Jew."

  "He is a robber. He has cheated your father out of everything."

  "He is no robber. He has cheated no one. I know who has cheated father,if you come to that."

  "Whom do you mean, hussey?"

  "I shall not answer you; but you need not tell me any more about theJews cheating us. Christians can cheat as well as Jews, and can robfrom their own flesh and blood too. I do not care for your threats,aunt Sophie, nor for your frowns. I did care for them, but you havesaid that which makes it impossible that I should regard them anyfurther."

  "And this is what I get for all my trouble--for all your uncle'sgenerosity!" Again Nina smiled. "But I suppose the Jew gives more thanwe have given, and therefore is preferred. You poor creature--poorwretched creature!"

  During all this time Balatka remained silent; and at last, after verymuch more scolding, in which Madame Zamenoy urged again and again theterrible threat of eternal punishment, she prepared herself for going."Lotta Luxa," she said, "--where is Lotta Luxa?" She opened the door,and found Lotta Luxa seated demurely by the window. "Lotta," she said,"I shall go now, and shall never come back to this unfortunate house.You hear what I say; I shall never return here. As she makes her bed,so must she lie on it. It is her own doing, and no one can save her.For my part, I think that the Jew has bewitched her."

  "Like enough," said Lotta.

  "When once we stray from the Holy Church, there is no knowing whatterrible evils may come upon us," said Madame Zamenoy.

  "No indeed, ma'am," said Lotta Luxa.

  "But I have done all in my power."

  "That you have, ma'am."

  "I feel quite sure, Lotta, that the Jew will never marry her. Whyshould a man like that, who loves money better than his soul, marry agirl who has not a kreutzer to bless herself?"

  "Why indeed, ma'am! It's my mind that he don't think of marrying her."

  "And, Jew as he is, he cares for his religion. He will not bringtrouble upon everybody belonging to him by taking a Christian for hiswife."

  "That he will not, ma'am, you may be sure," said Lotta.

  "And where will she be then? Only fancy, Lotta--to have been jilted bya Jew!" Then Madame Zamenoy, without addressing herself directly toNina, walked out of the room; but as she did so she paused in thedoorway, and again spoke to Lotta. "To be jilted by a Jew, Lotta! Thinkof that."

  "I should drown myself," said Lotta Luxa. And then they both were gone.

  The idea that the Jew might jilt her disturbed Nina more than all heraunt's anger, or than any threats as to the penalties she might haveto encounter in the next world. She felt a certain delight, an inwardsatisfaction, in giving up everything for her Jew lover--a satisfactionwhich was the more intense, the more absolute was the rejection and themore crushing the scorn which she encountered on his behalf from herown people. But to encounter this rejection and scorn, and then to bethrown over by the Jew, was more than she could endure. And would it,could it, be so? She sat down to think of it; and as she thought of itterrible fears came upon her. Old Trendellsohn had told her that such amarriage on his son's part would bring him into great trouble; and oldTrendellsohn was not harsh with her as her aunt was harsh. The oldman, in his own communications with her, had always been kind andforbearing. And then Anton himself was severe to her. Though he wouldnow and again say some dear, well-to-be-remembered happy word, as whenhe told her that she was his sun, and that he looked to her for warmthand light, such soft speakings were few with him and far between.And then he never mentioned any time as the probable date of theirmarriage. If only a time could be fixed, let it be ever so distant,Nina thought that she could still endure all the cutting taunts of herenemies. But what would she do if Anton were to announce to her someday that he found himself, as a Jew, unable to marry with her as aChristian? In such a case she thought that she must drown herself, asLotta had suggested to her.

  As she sat thinking of this, her eyes suddenly fell upon the one keywhich she herself possessed, and which, with a woman's acuteness ofmemory, she perceived to have been moved from the spot on which she hadleft it. It was the key of the little desk which stood in the corner ofthe parlour, and in which, on the top of all the papers, was depositedthe necklace with which she intended to relieve the immediatenecessities of their household. She at once remembered that Lottahad been left for a long time in the room, and with anxious, quicksuspicion she went to the desk. But her suspicions had wronged Lotta.There, lying on a bundle of letters, was the necklace, in the exactposition in which she had left it. She kissed the trinket, which hadcome to her from her mother, replaced it carefully, and put the keyinto her pocket.

  What should she do next? How should she conduct herself in her presentcircumstances? Her heart prompted her to go off at once to AntonTrendellsohn and tell him everything; but she greatly feared that Antonwould not be glad to see her. She knew that it was not well that a girlshould run after her lover; but yet how was she to live without seeinghim? What other comfort had she? and from whom else could she look forguidance? She declared to herself at last that she, in her position,would not be stayed by ordinary feelings of maiden reserve. She wouldtell him everything, even to the threat on which her aunt had so muchdepended, and would then ask him for his counsel. She would describeto him, if words from her could describe them, all her difficulties,and would promise to be guided by him absolutely in everything."Everything," she would say to him, "I have given up for you. I amyours entirely, body and soul. Do with me as you will." If he shouldthen tell her that he would not have her, that he did not want thesacrifice, she would go away from him--and drown herself. But she wouldnot go to him to-day--no, not to-day; not perhaps to-morrow. It wasbut a day or two as yet since she had been over at the Trendellsohns'house, and though on that occasion she had not seen Anton, Anton ofcourse would know that she had been there. She did not wish him tothink that she was hunting him. She would wait yet two or three days--till the next Sunday morning perhaps--and then she would go again tothe Jews' quarter. On the Christian Sabbath Anton was always at home,as on that day business is suspended in Prague both for Christian andJew.

  Then she went back to her father. He was still lying with his faceturned to the wall, and Nina, thinking that he slept, took up her workand sat by his side. But he was awake, and watching. "Is she gone?" hesaid, before her needle had been plied a dozen times.

  "Aunt Sophie? Yes, father, she has gone."

  "I hope she will not come again."

  "She says that she will never come again."

  "What is the use of her coming here? We are lost and are perishing. Weare utterly gone. She will not help us, and why should she disturb uswith her curses?"

  "Father, there may be better days for us yet."

  "How can there be better days when you are bringing down the Jew up
onus? Better days for yourself, perhaps, if mere eating and drinking willserve you."

  "Oh, father!"

  "Have you not ruined everything with your Jew lover? Did you not hearhow I was treated? What could I say to your aunt when she stood thereand reviled us?"

  "Father, I was so grateful to you for saying nothing!"

  "But I knew that she was right. A Christian should not marry a Jew. Shesaid it was abominable; and so it is."

  "Father, father, do not speak like that! I thought that you hadforgiven me. You said to aunt Sophie that I was a good daughter. Willyou not say the same to me--to me myself?"

  "It is not good to love a Jew."

  "I do love him, father. How can I help it now? I cannot change myheart."

  "I suppose I shall be dead soon," said old Balatka, "and then it willnot matter. You will become one of them, and I shall be forgotten."

  "Father, have I ever forgotten you?" said Nina, throwing herself uponhim on his bed. "Have I not always loved you? Have I not been good toyou? Oh, father, we have been true to each other through it all. Do notspeak to me like that at last."