by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER III.
A CHILDISH MALEFACTOR.
That house which stands all deserted in the middle of Hetfalu was notalways of such a doleful appearance.
Its windows which are now nailed up or bricked in were once full offlowers; those trees which now stand around it all dried up and witheredas if in mourning for their masters, and with no wish to grow greenagain after the many horrors which have taken place among them, thosetrees, I say, once threw an opulent shade on the marble bench placedbeneath them, where a grave old gentleman used to sit of an evening andrejoice in the splendid wallflowers with which the courtyard abounded.
Yes, he could rejoice in the sweet flowers although his own heart wasfull of thorns.
This old gentleman was Benjamin Hetfalusy.
In front of those two windows which look out upon the garden, and whichare now walled up, a solitary vine had been planted, whose branches,crowded with fruit, climbed up to the very roof of the house. Now itlies all wildered on the ground, and its immature berries twinethemselves round the nearest bushes.
Those windows were once thickly curtained. The yellow silk curtainsinundated with a sickly light a room where everything was so still, sosad.
There was an invalid in the house, little Neddy, the son of BenjaminHetfalusy's daughter, the son of that once so haughty gentlewoman,Leonora Hetfalusy.
This poor lady had been visited by many a terrible calamity. After ayouth passed amidst feverish excitements, she had married SquireSzephalmi, and there had been two children of this marriage, a son and adaughter. Edward and Emma were their names. The children were constantlybickering with each other, but this after all is only what happens everyday with brothers and sisters.
One day the little girl disappeared, nobody knew what had become of her.They searched for her in the woods and in the fields, and in the pondclose by; they explored the whole country side, their little petdaughter was nowhere to be found.
From that very day Neddy fell sick. He lost his fresh ruddy colour. Hecould neither eat nor sleep. They laid him on his bed, a fever tormentedhim. At night he would wander in his speech, and at such times he wouldconstantly be calling for his little sister Emma; he would cry out andweep, and his features would stiffen and his eyes would almost startout of his head till he looked like one possessed.
The doctors said that it was epilepsy. They treated him in everypossible way. It was all of no avail. He grew worse from day to day, andhis father and mother stood and wept by his bed morning after morning.
* * * * *
It was one of those evenings when the wind rages outside and dashes rainmingled with hail against the window-panes. The child was crying andmoaning in his bed, out of doors the dogs were howling, the wind waswhistling, and the freely-swinging pump-handle creaked and groaned likea shrieking ghost.
"Ah!" wailed the sick child in his sleep, half rising up. "Emma! Let inlittle Emma! Don't you hear how she is crying outside--she cannot getthrough the door ... she is shivering, she is afraid of the dark ... goout and look...!"
"There is nobody outside, my darling, nobody, my poor sick little son."
"There is, there is. I hear someone scratching at the door, fumbling atthe latch; she is stroking the dogs; don't you hear how she is moaning,dear, dear mother, don't you hear it?"
"Go to sleep, my sick darling, nobody is coming here, the whole house islocked up."
"She is dead, she is dead," whined the little boy in his delirium."Wicked men killed her when she went into the woods to pluck flowers.They tied a stone to her feet and sank her in the yellow pond. Oh! oh!why don't you make haste? She will be drowned directly. Oh! oh! howbloody her forehead is!"
In the corner of the room was the father on his knees praying. Themother with tearful eyes kept on spreading the bed-clothes over the sickchild, and the grey-headed grandfather stared stupidly in front of him.
"Hark! Don't you hear little Emma weeping there again? She has not beenproperly buried beneath the ground, she wants to come out. Hush! hush!Don't go, don't go, then perhaps she will stop crying."
Outside the tempest was shaking the trees.
"Oh, oh! There's a knocking at the door! They have come for me. Theywant to kill me. They are bringing little Emma. Oh, do not let them in!Tell them that I am not here! Lock the door!----Father, father, don'tleave me."
It was hideous to see the expression of despair on the round childishface all covered with sweat. They are wont to paint little children inthe shape of angels. If it should ever occur to a painter to paint afour-year-old child as a devil, as a fallen accursed spirit, it might besuch a face as his was.
"Oh, God, have mercy upon him, and take him to Thee," sobbed thegrandfather, hiding his face on the table. He could not endure to lookupon the superhuman torments of the child, while the weak, helplessfather cried in the bitterness of his heart, "it is my only son, mydearest, fairest hope."
The child made as if it would fly or hide itself. It leaped up in itsbed incessantly, and saw hideous shapes around it and raved about them,and writhed and struggled like one attacked by a serpent.
"Come, my daughter, come, my son!" sobbed old Benjamin, going down uponhis knees. "Kneel beside me, let us pray for him; if our sins are ripefor punishment, let the punishment fall upon our heads, not upon thechild's."
And the three elders knelt down beside the bed, and held each other bythe hand and wept, and called upon God, and prayed _Him_ to heal thechild.
At that moment three violent blows from a clenched fist were heard uponthe door. The dogs ran howling to the other end of the courtyard, and ashrill piping voice uttered the words:
"Death! death!"
The old grandfather leaped up from his knees like one beside himselfwith rage. Cursing aloud, he snatched his gun from the wall, rushed intothe courtyard and looked about for whomsoever had uttered that cry thathe might shoot the wretch down like a dog.
Perchance if that cry had come from Heaven he would have fired up atHeaven itself!
What! to cry out "Death" to the Amen of those who were praying forlife!
And again that ear-piercing voice cried: "Death, death!"--it soundedlike the whoop of a screech-owl.
The "death-bird," as they called her, was standing there in front of thetrellised gate with her eyes fixed on the windows, her face was as paleas the face of a corpse, and her white hair was fluttering in thetempestuous night.
"It is thine own death thou hast prophesied, thou crazy witch, thou!"thundered old Benjamin, and he fired his gun at her at ten paces.
The "death-bird" stared at him without moving a muscle. Old Benjamin, ina sort of stupor, let the weapon fall out of his hand; it never occurredto him that he had extracted the bullet himself beforehand lest in amoment of distraction he might blow his own brains out.
"What dost thou want, Benjamin?" asked the old woman in a calm mockingvoice. "Death comes not from thee, but to thee. Nobody can kill me.Death has passed me by, he does not think of me, he does not troublehimself about me, he has turned me into a living spirit. I am old andugly, Death cares not for such as I. He too has a liking for youth andbeauty, for pretty young women like thy daughter, for strong gallantyoung fellows like thy son-in-law, for tender, rosy chicks like thygrandchildren, and for fat ripe corn like thyself, saddled with moresins than the hairs of thy head. Benjamin Hetfalusy, I have looked uponthee as a young man, when thou didst chicane me out of my house, andtear from my hands the dry crusts I lived upon. And thou hast grown fatupon it too. But the bread that is wet with the tears of orphans criesto Heaven for vengeance, the blessing of God rests not upon it. Thou artold and thou wilt die. Thou shalt leave none behind thee, thou shaltbury all whom thou didst ever love. But I shall remain alive to see thygrave. I shall survive thee that I may see everything that once belongedto thee lie desolate. And this fine house of thine shall remainempty--these trees shall fade away and wither one by one--strangersshall divide thy lands among them. And now go home, for thou shalt no
tdwell there long. When thou liest outside I will come and visit theeyonder!"
The "death-bird" drew herself up straight at these words, she seemed asbig again as her usual old shrunken self, and pointed towards thechurchyard with her crutch.
The dogs howled dismally behind the house and durst not come forward.
The old woman collapsed once more. Close to the trellis gate stood alarge heap of planks. She reached out and tapped them with her crutch."Good timber here for ever so many nice coffins!" she mumbled toherself, and tripped away coughing and wheezing, and leaning heavily onher crutch.
Benjamin Hetfalusy lay senseless in his own courtyard, and when he cameto himself he was unable to utter a word. He had had a stroke, and histongue was tied.
Early next morning, while the whole house was still asleep, Mrs.Szephalmi, all alone, stealthily and unobserved, quitted the house andmade her way across the park to old Magdolna's hut.
This great lady, despite an outward show of culture, believed in andmade use of all sorts of charms and quackeries, and it was not the firsttime, so credulous was she, that she had turned to the old woman forcounsel. She had made her tell her her fortune by means of cards,predict the future, brew potions for her which would make her husbandfaithful, teach her spells which would cause flies and other vermin tovanish, to concoct balsamic cakes to keep the skin white--in fact, shehung upon every word the old crone uttered.
Magdolna kept her waiting for a long time in the yard before she openedthe door. She said, by way of excuse, that she had been praying, thenshe shut the door behind them.
The great lady sat down on a straw-covered chair and began to weep. Theold woman crouched down upon a stool and cleansed some mushrooms whichshe held in her lap.
"Dame Magdolna, can you not help my son?" sobbed Mrs. Szephalmi.
"No."
"I will give all I have to whomsoever can cure him. Oh! if you couldonly see how much he suffers, nobody ever suffered so much before."
"I know it, and he will suffer still more."
"The doctors cannot cure him."
"No healing herb that ever grew in the field can heal him; it would beall one even if you bathed him in balm."
"He will die?"
"'Twould be good for his soul if he did die."
"What, is there then anything worse than death?"
"Yes, damnation!"
"You are raving. A child who four years ago was an angel in Heaven, achild only four years of age--damned!"
"It has sinned enough to suffice for a long life, enough to meritdamnation."
"Then for such a sin there is no name among men."
"There is a name for it, terrible and accursed--the murder of a sister."
"Merciful God!--I will not hearken to you."
"Why do you ask me, then? I have told nobody. Go home, my lady, youcannot buy the mercy of God for money."
"And yet there must be something in it. He is repeatedly mentioning hissister's name. And--oh! what a look he has at such times!"
"I know it. His groaning can be heard outside in the street. If a poorman's child wailed like that they would pitch it down a well."
"Speak! How and where did it take place?"
"The children were playing outside, close to the pond, I was on theopposite side plucking healing plants. Suddenly the two children caughtsight of a pretty flower on a high rock. They both hastened to the spotto pluck it. The girl was the quicker, and got there first, and when shehad plucked the flower the lad began to quarrel with her, and as theystruggled the little girl fell off the rock, her head struck against thehard root of a tree, and she remained motionless on the spot. All paleand frightened little Cain stood beside her, and gazed stupidly at theblood flowing from his sister's forehead. He saw that he had killed hissister, and in vain he begged and prayed her to awake again, in vain hepulled her about. Then he began to cry like one who is desperate, andran towards the lake. I saw him gazing into the water, and he gazed intoit for a long time, perhaps he thought of drowning himself. He shrankback from the face that stared at him from the surface of the water, hisown distorted face. Slowly he crept back again, his face was as white asdeath, and his lips were blue. He gazed around him in every direction tosee if anybody was looking. Then he suddenly put his arms round thelifeless body, and with a strength incredible in one so young he draggedit to a ditch which was thickly overgrown with bushes, and covered itover with leaves and branches. There was still some life in the littlegirl, for when the lad began stamping down the heaped-up leaves with hisfeet, she groaned aloud and said: 'Oh, Neddy, Neddy, don't bury me. Emmawon't cry. Emma won't tell mamma!'"
"Oh! my poor little girl!"
"On hearing these words the boy took to his heels--he ran and ran tillhe fell down senseless in the wood. There some swine-herds found him asthey were gathering beech-mast, and since then he has been plagued by aburning fever-fit."
"It is like a frightful nightmare."
"I tell you the truth, and such a thing is only what your familydeserves--a murderer of his sister only four years old! Sins like yoursare enough to hasten on the end of the world."
"And where, then, is the poor tiny little body of my innocent child?"
"I sought for it next day, but I could not find it. On the very day ofthe evil deed I durst not go there, for I was afraid they might think Ikilled her. Here and there among the bushes were fragments of a littlepink frock. I also came across a tiny red slipper with a goldenbutterfly on it, and some gay ribbons which must have tied up her hair.I have often heard the wolves howl at night in that very place. They cantell perhaps where she is."
"Would that my son might die also!" cried the mother in the anguish ofher despair.
"He would die even if you did _not_ wish it. An old man might liveperhaps with such a mental cancer, but it will destroy a child. Ah!there is no remedy against the worms that gnaw away at the soul."
"Will he be tormented for long?"
"If you do not wish to see his torments, stand by his bed when nobodyelse is by, cross yourself thrice, and repeat the words which his dyingsister said to him: 'Don't bury me, Neddy! Little Emma won't cry!'--andthen he will die."
"How his father will weep! It is his favourite child--he loved himbetter than the little girl."
"How his grandfather will weep! For he loved them both, and they wereboth his pets."
