by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER VIII.
THE POLISH WOMAN.
"Who is at home here?" inquired a strong sonorous voice at the door ofthe headsman's dwelling, and immediately afterwards a shape huddled upin a grey mantle passed through the kitchen door.
By the hearth were sitting Ivan and the woman of the house, it was adark tempestuous night outside; it might have been about ten o'clock andevery door was closed.
The youth and the woman gazed stupidly at the stranger and said nothing.
"Who is at home here?" repeated he, drawing nearer to the fire, in whoseflickering light his smooth handsome young face seemed transparent withits sharply defined eyebrows, soft but masterful lips and courageouseagle eyes which gazed fixedly before them.
The youth and the woman exchanged glances. Instead of answering, Ivanfell to questioning:
"How could anyone possibly enter here?"
"I leaped over the fence," replied the stranger, sitting down beside thefire without the least ceremony. "The door was bolted and barred;twice, thrice did I knock, but nobody opened to me. I was forced to getin somehow."
"How about the dog?" inquired the woman of the house much perplexed.
"I didn't mind him. I know how to talk to dogs. It is a way I have.There's a plaguey bad tempest roaring outside, the rain is falling intorrents. I could not wait outside any longer."
"But what do you want here?" inquired the woman, looking into the faceof the stranger with some timidity.
"That is just what I am going to tell you, my dear! But first give me aglass of water, for I am perishing with thirst."
The woman was involuntarily constrained to obey without more ado.
"And you, my friend, spread out my mantle before the fire!" said thestranger turning towards Ivan, and stripping from his neck and shouldersthe heavy mantle which was dripping with rain.
The youth and the woman incontinently obeyed his commands as if theywere under a spell.
The mantle was removed, the slim, muscular figure of the stranger wasclearly visible, it seemed too soft for a man's. His hands as theygrasped the beaker seemed white and delicate.
"That is certainly a woman," murmured the headsman's wife to Ivan,staring suspiciously at the stranger from beneath her thick contractedbushy eyebrows. Then approaching him and looking him full in the faceshe said: "My Dovey! It seems to me that you are in no good way. Whom doyou seek?"
"The master," replied the stranger curtly, resting his elbows on thehearth.
"Possibly you may suppose this house to be an inn because it lies at theextreme end of the town?"
"I think nothing of the sort, my pretty mistress. I know that heredwells Master Zudar, the worthy ferry-master."
"Ferry-master?"
"Yes, ferry-master! Does he not transport men from this world to thenext?"
"How come you to know the master?"
"I have never seen him, yet I know him well for all that. It is notpossible to speak to him now because he is a-praying. He prays regularlyfor a whole hour at a time, and then it is not well then to disturb him.That is why you two are crouching in the kitchen here. You, my prettymistress, are Master Zudar's wife, and this young man is his 'prentice.I know you very well also."
"But who are you yourself then? Speak! What do you want?" asked thewoman much puzzled.
"I shall tell that to the master himself, inside there, when he hasquite finished his devotions. It is his habit every night, before helies down, to fire off his gun, then I will approach him. Meanwhile sitdown beside me! Look ye, this bench can very well hold the pair of us,let us have a little talk together."
The stranger thereupon doffed his little round furred cap and his longblack trussed-up locks fell in curling ringlets about his shoulders.
"'Tis a woman, a woman indeed!" whispered Ivan and the dame of the houseto each other.
The latter now approached the enigmatical shape a little more boldly,and sitting down beside him, opened a conversation with him.
"What, pray, is your business with my husband?"
"Come, come, my dear creature! You have no right to put such questionsto me. You ought rather to ask me whether I am hungry and would likesome supper. You would not have to ask me that twice I can assure you."
The woman, at this hint, arose sullenly and took from a wainscotcupboard a plate of hearth cakes which she set before the stranger.
"I suppose, sir, you don't mind eating off the headsman's platter?" saidshe.
"Stuff! What if I am of the same profession!"
"Oh, of course! I can see that from those soft white little hands ofyours which are not such as the hands of a man ought to be."
But the words were scarce out of her mouth when the virago uttered aloud scream, for the little white paws she had just tapped suddenlypressed her huge fleshy palm so vigorously that every bone in itcracked.
"Satan take him!--'tis a man, not a doubt of it!" whispered the woman toIvan. "He has a hand like an iron vice."
The stranger had an excellent appetite. There was absolutely nothing atthe bottom of the platter when he had finished eating.
"Pardon!" cried he at last, "perhaps I ought not to have gobbled upeverything. Perchance this was set aside for someone who does not happento be at home just now."
"Oh, don't be uneasy on that score, we have all had our suppers."
"But this is not the whole family I suppose? Have you no children?"
"Yes," replied the woman, and as she spoke she durst not lift her eyesto the stranger's face. "I have a daughter."
"Really your own child?"
The woman looked hesitatingly at the stranger, twice she attempted tospeak and twice the words seemed to stick in her throat.
"Yes, my own child," she said at last.
"And have you no other 'prentice but this one, Dame Zudar?"
"No, why should I?"
"And are you two able to carry on the business?--for I suppose there areall sorts of things to be done?"
"Good heart alive! The less you say about the headsman's trade thebetter."
"But why should I not talk about it? It is a regular profession, is itnot, like any other? And just as respectable too, eh? Nay, it is moreprofitable than most trades, because there is less of competition init. Now, as for me, I have a perfect passion for it. Why, the onlyreason why I am here is to come to some arrangement with Master Zudar. Iwant to buy of him, my pretty dame, the business which you loathe somuch."
The headsman's wife regarded the stranger with eyes full of doubt andastonishment.
"You are a very young man for the business," said she suspiciously.
"Oh, as for that, my dear, pray don't imagine that I am going to put upwith all the disagreeables of the profession for the fun of the thing. Imean to have lots of help I can tell you. I shall live in town andfrequent the best taverns and coffee houses. I shall live like agentleman and nobody will know who I am. I shall only appear on thescene officially when an execution worthy of my skill awaits me--a nicebeheading or something of that sort, you know. Oh! I shall have a finetime of it I can tell you."
Dame Zudar felt a shudder run all down her back. She durst not lookagain at the stranger.
"It is a pity you have not more than one 'prentice now. It looks as ifyou had very much neglected the business. I am annoyed at that. It willbe difficult to give it a fresh start. Had you not more than oneapprentice a little time ago?"
"Yes, there used to be another," stammered Dame Zudar involuntarily.
"Then why did you pack him off?" inquired the unknown, picking from thefire with his delicate index-finger a burning ember, tossing it lightlyon to his soft palm, and thence chucking it adroitly into the bowl ofhis little pipe.
The woman and Ivan exchanged a look as if deliberating together whatanswer they should give, and then the woman hastily replied:
"He went away of his own accord; the business is a pretty one, but hegot disgusted with it."
"Oh--ho! what a rum 'un the fellow must have been. And has he
a bettertime of it now?"
"I don't know," replied the virago defiantly. "It is not my business tofind out what has become of my discharged apprentices. He got sick ofthis trade and took to another--that is the whole thing."
"You are quite right, my pretty dame, not everyone is fit for thisbusiness. A man must have a natural liking for it. I, for instance,would never take as an apprentice a man who had not spent some time in adungeon, or cooled his heels in jail two or three times running in fiveor six years, for all the others are for ever wishing themselves back inpolite society, and want to live in town. And then, too, they are alwayssighing and groaning and trying to make out that they are too good forthe business. I don't like such people myself. Those who are likely toexcel in this business show their teeth betimes. Those children who putout the eyes of birds, nail bats to barn doors, and love to shoot atlittle dogs, those are the sort of fellows from which apt pupils can betrained."
"That is quite true. Why you, yourself, must be the son of a headsman,or else you would not know all the conditions of the trade so well."
"You've hit it, that is just what I am. My father was an executioner andmy grandfather before him, the business has steadily descended fromfather to son."
"Where do you live then?"
"In Poland. Rochow is where my father dwells. You must have guessedalready from my accent that I was a Pole."
"Yes, and from your face too."
"My brother and I divided our heritage between us. He got the Rochowbusiness and paid me out in cash that I might set up for myselfelsewhere. I heard that the executioner of Hetfalu was getting sick ofhis office, for of course he is not growing younger, is he? Come, now!you silly little thing, you must not be angry with me for saying that!You know very well that your husband _is_ an old man, and there are lotsof old men who have pretty young wives. There is no great harm in that.I only asked you whether he _was_ old, because in that case he would bemore likely to seek for repose."
"Yes, young sir, my husband loathes the business with all his soul."
"But there's a great deal of fun in it too, if only you look at itproperly. I have often gone to Lemberg togged up like a swell, with afine jewelled pin in my scarf, a gold chain and a little whalebone stickin my hand. I have turned the heads of two or three fine ladies andinsinuated myself into the best society--and what a joke it was whenthey found out who I really was. How pale they all went, and how theirhair stood on end. Ha, ha, ha!"
"But didn't they make you pay for it afterwards?"
"Well, once I was called out by a young cadet. Officers of higher rankthought it beneath their dignity to fight with me, the utmost they didwas to pitch me out of the window. The lad who challenged me was aHungarian, and I promised to appear at the rendezvous. I am afraid,however, that he waited for me a very long time. I like to shed blood,but only when I run no risk myself."
All three laughed heartily at this witticism.
"But listen to the sequel of my story. My father has an amiable whim ofhis own--he always prefers to have deserters from the army as hisassistants. He is well aware that men of that kidney have practicallyrenounced the world. Now who do you think rushed into his house oneevening all ragged and travel-stained? Why the very soldier-youngsterwho had wanted to fight a duel with me! To avenge his sweetheart he hadshot his captain and had to make a bolt of it."
The woman and Ivan involuntarily looked at each other with terror.
"You may imagine how I laughed the poor youth out of countenance when Irecognised him. Every time I met him I used to say to him: 'Well, whatdo you say to our fighting our duel now?' He could not stand suchheckling long. On the third day he skedaddled, and I don't know whatbecame of the poor fellow. I have little doubt, however, that since thenhe has been shot dead."
"If they have not done it yet it won't be very long before they do,"observed Ivan.
"Hush!"--hissed the woman with a warning gesture.
The unknown did not seem, however, to have noticed this little piece ofby-play.
At that moment the report of a gun was heard from the headsman's window.At night he used regularly to discharge his firearms and load them againimmediately afterwards. He was afraid that someone might have got atthem in the course of the day and either extracted the bullets or dampedthe powder. He did not feel himself safe in his own house, and alwayslocked the door of his room before he lay down to sleep.
"Now you will be able to have a talk with him if you like," said thevirago. "The girl will come down presently, as usual, to fetch him hiswater for the night, you can let her know that you are here and want tospeak to him."
Shortly afterwards the door opened and, with a lighted taper in one handand a ewer in the other, the moon-pale little maid entered the room. Shecame very quietly, as if afraid of making the slightest noise. Herbeautiful blonde locks had been unloosed, for it was bedtime, andstrayed freely over her smooth snow-white shoulders, her tiny bare feetseemed to kiss rather than touch the ground.
The stranger gazed at the gentle creature with rapt delight. She did notappear to notice him in the semi-darkness, as she glided past himthrough the vestibule on her way to the well.
"Is that your own child, my fair dame?" asked the unknown, flashing hiseagle eyes full upon the woman.
"Yes, my own child!"
"How fair she is, and how pale!"
The woman laughed.
"While I am so brown and ruddy, eh?"
And again she laughed aloud.
The face of the unknown blushed deeply. One could have sworn it was awoman. It was the blush of shame that covered his face.
In a few moments the child returned with the filled ewer in her hands.
"Come hither, my little girl!" said the stranger, in a tender,affectionate voice.
The child started violently.
"Don't be alarmed!" growled the virago. "Don't you hear that thisgentleman wants to speak to you? Are you afraid he will bite your noseoff?"
And with these words she seized the child's hand roughly and pushed hertowards the stranger.
The stranger softly patted the child's little head.
"Don't be afraid of me, my little girl! You have no reason to fear me.What is your name?"
"Betsey!" replied the virago.
"Ah, why Betsey? Such a coarse, common name for such a tender child! Iwould call her Elise, that is far prettier. Besides, the two names meanone and the same thing."
"Nay, nay, you will spoil the child, sir. As if she was not spoiltenough by her father already. Peasant folks call their daughters Betseyor Polly; Elise and Lisetta are the names of gentlefolks' children. Youmust not listen to such nonsense, child; but go and tell your fatherthat there is a gentleman here from Poland who wants to speak to himimmediately before he lies down."
The child timidly withdrew her little hand from the stranger's, whoseemed very disinclined to let it go, and hastened to her father's room.
The stranger thereupon tidied up his clothing, smoothed back his hair onboth sides of his forehead, thereby giving to his features a gentleamiable expression, and softly tapped at the headsman's door.
"Come in!" resounded a deep melancholy voice from within.
The unknown youth entered and carefully closed the door behind him.
The moment he was well within the room, the smile of frivolousbraggadocio he had lately assumed entirely disappeared from his face;the defiantly thrown back head bent meekly down; a look of devoutinspiration was visible on the thin lips and in the veiled eyes; thewhole figure of the man seemed to have grown smaller, the shoulderscontracted, the breast receded; he had now the air of a gracious andbenignant missionary.
And a benignant missionary indeed it was who now stood face to face withthe headsman.
The herculean figure of the headsman arose slowly and tremulously, andwhile his hand with furtive anxiety sought the hand of the little girl,he asked the stranger in a scarcely audible voice what he required ofhim. Perchance the latter did not catch what he said, he spoke so
low.
"Peace and blessing be upon this house!" said the unknown in a voicefull of tender unction.
"Amen, amen!" the headsman hastened to reply.
"Heaven's blessing descend upon thy heart, my son!" said the youth tothe old man raising his hand in blessing.
"He is a pastor, a priest," said the headsman to himself, "he has allthe appearance of it."
Peter Zudar stooped down towards the youth's hand and kissed it. Hedurst not touch it with his own hand but with his lips only.
"A priest in _my_ house, forsooth! My child! take the gentleman by thehand and lead him to the arm-chair, make him sit down! Thy hands areclean, they may touch him. Oh! a man of God in _my_ house! I never daredto hope so much."
"I come from afar," said the unknown youth, sitting down in thearm-chair provided for him, while the old executioner stood before himbare-headed, with his large muscular arms folded across his bosom. Thelittle girl wound her hands round his arm and stood beside him.
"I come from afar, I say. I do not belong to your nation, though Iunderstand your language well enough to be able to converse in itintelligibly. In olden times the Apostles of our Holy Faith receiveddirect from Heaven the gift of tongues, we, their unworthy successors,must, with great labour and weariness, acquire the languages of those towhom we have to preach the Gospel. I am the member of an Englishreligious society whose mission it is to seek out those who aresuffering, in whatever rank of life they may be, and endeavour toadminister to them, so far as we are able, those divine consolationswhich God so freely distributes to the broken-hearted. We have ourspecial missionaries for every section of humanity, and we send themforth continually to minister to their sufferings, and bring them peaceand healing. Some of us are sent to the palaces of the mighty, others tothe hovels of the poor. For everyone on earth has his own particularsorrow, and everyone finds his own sorrow very hard to bear. Some of ushave chosen the dungeons and jails as our spheres of consolation, othersprefer to comfort the secret woes of family life, others again visit theneedy masses of the work-people. To me has been assigned the task ofministering to those terrors of evil doers, the public executioners."
At these words the youth looked steadily at the face of the man, who wasstanding there before him, with downcast eyes and quivering lips.
"For the last nine years I have been going about in this strange worldof mine," continued the youth. "I have learnt something of the deepestwounds and of the sublimest woe. All the suffering in this department ofsorrow is very much alike. Some can hide their wounds better thanothers--that is the sole difference. There are amongst these headsmencold impenetrable natures, hearts closed against the world, whom it isvery difficult to get at. And then again there are devil-may-care,extravagant, passionate dispositions who fancy they can find oblivion inwine, excitement, and other external delights. And then, too, there aredefiant, haughty souls, who mock and jeer at those things which ordinarypeople are afraid of--but at the bottom of all their hearts it is thesame worm that is ever gnaw-gnawing. Some of them die young, others growgrey, and have a late old age before them. And it is the selfsame wormwhich kills the one and will not let the other die. I have known amongthem men who, drink as they would, could never get drunk. I have knownothers who loathed the sight of wine and yet have been haunted byphantoms in broad daylight. The evil was always one and the same. Yes,and the mercy of God is always one and the same likewise."
"God's mercy is indeed over all!" stammered the headsman.
"And if this endless mercy did not cover the earth what could defend allliving beings from judgment? If the Lord were one day to proclaim: 'LetJustice prevail in the world instead of Mercy!' must not we all beinstantly consumed by the divine vengeance? The Lord does not look atthe outward appearance of men but at their hearts. He judges him whocharitably distributes alms at the church door to make up for the secretsins that he has carefully concealed at the bottom of his heart, andraises once more the broken-hearted sinner who has fallen beneath thestress of temptation."
The headsman slowly sank down upon his knees before the chair of theunknown, and rested his folded arms against it.
"What are we after all? Impotent tools in the hands of all creativePower. Greater in the eyes of God is humble weakness than haughtystrength; dearer to Him is the repentant sinner than the man who boastsof his virtues. All that is power is His gift, and His gift must needsreturn to Him again. Strength will turn to dust, merit will become butas an empty sound, God's mercy alone will endure for ever. Heaven isalways open to him who seeks it."
The youth tenderly stroked the old man's hands whilst he tried,tremulously, to draw them away.
"Oh, sir, touch not my hands!"
The youth seized one of the executioner's hands by force and drew ittowards him, looking as he did so, now at the old man's hand and now athis face. Then with his delicate index-finger he pointed at theheadsman's forehead.
"I see here a whole network of wrinkles," said he, "and this cross ofill-omen here betokens the anguish of a heavy heart. Thy hand tremblesin mine because it feels upon it spots of innocent blood."
"True, true!" groaned the strong man, hiding his face in his hands.
"Thou hast executed a death sentence upon a man whose innocence shortlyafterwards became as clear as noonday."
"So it is. You can read right into my heart. It is even as you say."
"This thought haunts thy mind continually and the mark of it is on thyforehead."
And at that moment could be plainly seen on the old man's forehead thedeep cruciform mark of the intersecting furrows.
The youth laid his fresh cold hand on the man's forehead.
"Who can tell why the Lord hath ordered it so? Who can tell whether theblindly executed convict did not deserve his punishment after all? Whoknows whether he was not worse at heart than he who actually committedthe bloody deed? What if he wished his father's death, and therefore wasguiltier than he who carried out that wish? A wise monarch in the Eastonce hung up twelve robbers by the roadside, and placed watchers thereat night to guard the bodies. While the watchers slept, the comrades ofthe robbers cut down the body of their leader and made off with it. Theawakened watchers, full of the fear of punishment, hung up a wayfaringpeasant in the place of the missing body. An innocent man!--And beholdwhen they searched the baggage of the peasant's mule they found thebloody limbs of a freshly murdered traveller! 'Twas the judgment of God.But suppose that the youth whom thou didst execute was really innocent?Who shall dare to say, even then, that Heaven distributes death by wayof punishment? What if it were sent as a favour, as a reward?--Once, inthe olden times, a God-fearing couple prayed Heaven to bestow itsgreatest reward upon their twin sons for their filial piety, and nextmorning they were found dead.--Who knows from what calamity Heaven mayhave saved him by dealing him that blow? Might he not have grown baseand vile had he been spared? Might he not have been plunged in miseryand ruin? Might he not have become a murderer or a suicide? Might he notultimately have come to die on the selfsame scaffold, aye, and deservedit too? Only He is able to answer all these questions before Whom thefuture lies clear and open. We can only see through a glass darkly; wedo not even know when we ought to laugh or when we ought to weep."
The youth removed his hand from the old man's forehead, and, lo! thatugly wrinkle had been smoothed away, and the headsman could raise alofteyes full of comfort, and folding his hands across his huge heavingbreast, he began to stammer softly:
"Our Father...!"
When he had pronounced the "Amen!" the unknown youth raised himtenderly from his knees, and the pale little girl embraced the old man'sarm and leaned her head against it.
"Hast thou not always had about thee here Heaven's messenger of mercy?"said the youth, pointing to the fair child. "Has not Heaven sent her tothee without any effort or foreknowledge on thy part, so that even tothis day thou canst not tell from whence she came?"
The man tapped his bosom:
"Sir," said he, "read into my heart. You know
everything."
The stranger thereupon turned to the little girl and addressed her in agentle tone which instantly inspired confidence.
"My good little child, go downstairs and tell them to put my horse,which I have left standing outside the gate, under cover, lest it bedrenched by the storm."
"I myself will lead it to the stable and give it food and water."
"Thank you, my little girl."
Little Elise sought for something in the wardrobe, and, concealing it inher apron, went out.
The stranger looked after her till she had closed the door behind her. Asolemn silence then prevailed in the room, the youth looked at the oldman in silence as if he expected him to speak.
In a short time Peter Zudar approached the door and opened it--in thekitchen all was now dark.
"They are asleep now," he muttered, partly speaking to himself, partlyaddressing his words to the stranger. "The woman has gone to rest, thelad is with the horses, the child will remain in the kitchen, she hassomething to do there I know. This, my good sir, is the time for us totalk. Outside there is nought but storm and darkness, I cannot let yougo further on your way while it is like this."
It was only after much persuasion that the old man consented to sit downbeside the youth and began to speak.
"I am an old man, sir, my hoary hair speaks the truth. I have gonethrough a great deal. My father also was an executioner, and mygrandfather before him. I inherited 'the business' so to speak. In myyounger years I was wild and frivolous. I loved racket, wine, andboisterous mirth. A sort of heavy indescribable load oppressed my heartcontinually, a sort of blinding darkness enveloped me which I wouldgladly have chased away had I only known how. This heavy mentaloppression, this black weariness tortured me more and more, according asmy sad reminiscences multiplied with my advancing years, and I drankmore and more wine, and plunged all the more recklessly into viledebauchery in order that I might not hear all round me those faint sighsand moans which troubled and terrified me most when there was not asound in my room, and I was all alone. My acquaintances used to laugh atme because I sat all alone drinking silently till far into the night,just as they used to laugh at me afterwards for sitting by myself andsinging hymns."
The fellow sighed deeply and was silent for a time, as if he were tryingto gather up again the threads of his scattering thoughts.
"You may perhaps have noticed a woman outside there. That is my wife. Imarried because I fancied that I should thereby find rest for my soul. Iimagined how happy I should be if I were to have a child. I should thenhave something to knit me to life, to the world again. No, I said tomyself, he shall not inherit the curse of my abhorred existence. I willchoose for him a career in which he will be happy, honoured, andrespected. I will provide him with a comfortable maintenance and havehim educated far from me and my house. I will make a worthy, honest,sensible man of him. For two years I comforted myself with such visionsand was happy. My mind shook off its horrors and became bright andcheerful. And then--then I began drinking heavily again. Evil memoriescommenced assailing me worse than ever, and my fair hopes abandonedme--for life and death, sir, are both lodged in a woman's heart, andsome find the one and some the other. Once more I was visited by thatmidnight sighing, by that speechless moaning, by those voices thatterrified my solitude and pursued me sleeping and waking, and I began todrink and run riot again once more."
The man hid his drooping head in his hands. Even now those dreadfulmemories weighed him down when he thought upon them.
"Suddenly I began to be deaf. A continuous humming sounded in my earswhich kept me in a perpetual whirl. I did not understand a single wordunless I looked at the lips of the speaker. I never noticed anyonecoming into my room until I suddenly caught sight of him. Oh! deafnessis indeed a horrible torture. The deaf man is far more completely shutoff from the world than the blind. At first I hid my wretchedness lestthey should make sport of me. Nobody is merciful to the deaf. Whenevertwo people talked to each other in my presence I fancied they wereplotting against me. I feared to go to sleep lest I should be murderedwithout hearing my door burst open. And then, too, in the night, in thedarkness, in my lonely deafness, I had an ear all the keener for thosesighs and moans which nobody could hear but myself. And in vain I drank,in vain I sang riotously. After every bumper of wine it seemed to me asif I was plunged more and more deeply into a roaring bottomless sea, andat last I could not even hear my own howling. Then my soul died awaywithin me, I cast myself despairingly on my bed, and then for the firsttime in my life it occurred to me to pray. The only thing I could thinkof to say was: 'My God! my God!' as I wrung my hands, and the tears randown my cheeks."
And at these words tears stood once more in the headsman's eyes.
"That night I slept quietly, nothing disturbed me. Thus I slumbered formany hours like one dead, and was only awakened at last by a feeling ofmoisture all over my face. I had been lying face downwards, and a rushof blood had come through my nose and mouth and wetted my couch. Iarose, douched my face in a large tub of water, and felt that my headwas very much relieved. I no longer heard that roaring sound as of adeep sea rolling over me; there was no more whispering and moaningaround me; but, instead of that, I heard through the deep stillness ofthe night the crying of a child. The crying of a child in my own house!I fancied it was but a dream-voice--for was I not deaf?--and thatinstead of a pursuing, the voice of an enticing spectre was now soundingin my ear. But again the crying of a child penetrated to me from theroom where my wife usually slept. What could it be? I walked thither,and lo! I could hear the soft pattering of my own footsteps. I must walkmore softly, thought I. And I did walk more softly, and then I alsoheard distinctly the light cracking of the boards beneath my feet. Andthrough it all the weeping of that child sounded continuously. The doorwas only closed by a bolt. I slipped it softly aside so that not a soundshould be heard. Softly I opened the door. And behold! on the table inthe middle of the room was a tiny babe. The night-lamp flung aflickering flame across its face, it could not have been more than acouple of months old. It was wrapped up in fine swaddling clothes, atiny embroidered chemise covered its little body, and its wee round headwas covered by a deep cap trimmed with pearls, from underneath whichwelled forth tiny little ringlets like fine gold thread. Just like thoselittle painted angels of whom you only see the heads peeping out of thesky."
The unknown smiled so sympathetically at the childish simile of the oldheadsman.
Then Peter Zudar's face again grew clouded, he drew his chair closer tohis guest's and thus continued:
"My wife was not in the room. Her bed was empty and I could see throughthe door, which she had left open behind her, that a large fire wasflickering in the kitchen. My wife was busy with something at the hearthand with her was her mother, a sly, wicked old woman, whom all thepeople hereabouts look upon as a witch. What were they doing there solate at night I asked myself? The younger woman was holding a pan overthe fire and the elder was casting into it all sorts of herbs. There wasnothing to be afraid of, and yet they were speaking to each other inwhispers and peering timorously around. I know not how the thoughtoccurred to me, but I suddenly thrust into my bosom the little sucklinglying on the table and carried it off into my own room. There I laid itdown upon my bed and put into its hands again its plaything of littlebells which it had dropped, whereupon it ceased to cry. Then I returnedto watch and see what the two women would do next. The contents of thepan were already frizzling. Now and then it boiled over into the fireand the flames shot up all round it. Then the old woman would skim itcarefully with a spoon. And all the time they were muttering together:
"'Are you sure nobody is awake?'
"'No, everyone is asleep.'
"'How about the old Knacker?'
"'He is drunk by this time and so deaf besides that he could not evenhear the blast of a trumpet.'
"At last they finished what they were about, poured the mess into alarge dish, and the pair of them came back again into the room. Andthere was I sta
nding in the midst of it! It had the effect upon them ofa thunderbolt. The old woman let fall the dish and the young one rushedat me like a maniac:
"'You deaf hog, you! what have you done with the child?'
"'Don't bawl so loudly, my good woman,' I said. 'I can hear you just aswell if you speak softly.'
"'What have you done with the child?'
"'Don't be uneasy about it, it is in a safe place.'
"'You old fool, you; you will bring the whole lot of us to ruin. Do youknow what you are doing?'
"'I know this much, that however you may have got hold of the child itshall not fall into _your_ hands again. I will take it and care for itmyself, and whoever dares to come into my room after it shall have goodcause to remember that I am the public executioner!'
"And with that I went into my room and locked it behind me. The womencursed aloud and hammered at my door, and the old witch threatened toundo me in all sorts of ways; but I quietly and comfortably got out mymilk-warming machine and heated a mash of breadcrumbs and milk over myspirit lamp. When it was ready I took the little child upon my lap andfed it nicely myself. Then I made a cradle for it out of my coverlet,which I slung upon a beam, and rocked it to sleep, and when I looked atit in the morning it was still slumbering."
After saying these words the headsman took out of a little cabinet asmall bundle, carefully wrapped up in paper, and, unwinding it graduallyfrom its manifold wrappings, set out its contents before the stranger.
In the parcel was a dainty little child's smock, a pair of socks, and ababy's cap trimmed with pearls. Everyone of these items was marked witha red "E."
"I keep these things as souvenirs," he continued. "This crisp littlesmock, this baby's bonnet embroidered with rosebuds and forget-me-nots,are more precious to me than all the treasures of life, for to them Iowe the soothing moments which poured balm into my soul. It was by theside of this child, sir, that I learnt to pray. Something whispered tome that this child was sent to me from Heaven. And so it must havebeen. Nobody under heaven loves me save she, and I love nobody, nothingelse in the world. I have never tried to find out who the child mightbe, nay, rather I have trembled lest she might one day be discovered anddemanded back from me. But all these years nobody has inquired afterher. I fancy she must have had a bad mother whom they told she was dead,and she was glad to hear it. Perhaps she even wished it to be killed.Ah! sir, there are those born outside the headsman's house who ought toend their lives on the headsman's threshold. Never for one hour's timehave I quitted that child. I taught her to walk, to talk, I prepared allher food for her, and now she prepares mine for me. I have eaten nocooked food which her hand has not made ready. While she was still but awee thing I watched by her bed while she slept, now she watches over mewhile I sleep. When I go a journey she comes with me, I never leave herbehind. Only one thing troubles me when I think of her: What will becomeof her when I die? what will become of her when she grows up?"
The youth tenderly pressed the old man's hand, and said to him with avoice betraying some emotion:
"Don't be uneasy! Thou hast been a good father to the child, if thoushouldst die I will find a good mother for her. Make a note of this nameand address: 'Maria Kamienszka, Lemberg.' Whenever thou dost write tothe above address on this subject thou shalt receive an answer withfull information. Nay, perhaps thou mayest hear sooner from that quarterthan thou desirest."
The old man kissed the youth's hand and stammered some unintelligiblewords of blessing.
At that moment the door opened, and little Elise came in with twoglasses of wine-soup on a platter from the kitchen.
She placed the fragrant steaming drink on the table, spread beneath it asnow-white diaper, and with her sweet gracious voice invited thestranger to partake thereof, as it would warm and comfort him.
The stranger gently stroked her sweet pretty face, kissed her fair head,and touching glasses with his host, emptied his own at one manly gulp.
"And right good it is, my little hostess! It has made quite a man ofme."
The old man needed far more pressing. The little girl had to taste itfirst to put him in the humour for it. It was quite clear that thisadopted father ran a great risk of being spoiled.
Peter Zudar's face was now quite bright and cheerful.
"Ah, sir!" said he to the stranger, "I have never felt before as I feelnow. My heart feels as light as if no load had ever lain upon it. I feelmyself a man. How long will you remain with me? I hope it will be for along time."
"It cannot be, my worthy fellow, my vocation summons me elsewhere. Bythe way, hast thou any apprentices or assistants who require spiritualconsolations?"
Peter Zudar's face grew dark at these words.
"I have only one 'prentice," said he at last, "and, sir, waste not anywords of the Lord upon him--one must not cast bread before dogs."
"Hast thou no other?"
"Not long ago this 'prentice of mine brought a stranger to my house.Early next morning, before I could see him, he escaped through the loftand over the fence, why or whither I know not to this day. This was notthe first case of the kind."
"Then my mission to this house is ended," said the stranger, sighinginvoluntarily. "Accept from me this little Prayer Book as a souvenir; asoften as thou dost read it thou wilt find consolation. On its cover isthe name of that lady whom thou must not forget."
The old man pressed the little book to his lips and concealed it in hiscoffer.
"And I, what shall I give, what can I give to you, my spiritualbenefactor, and, after God, my regenerator, as a token of my gratitude;what can I give you, I say?"
The stranger hastily replied:
"If I might be so bold as to ask for something, give me the half of thytreasures, the little embroidered baby's cap."
For a moment the headsman was overpowered with astonishment, then hequickly undid once more the little bundle of clothes, drew forth, thepearl-trimmed cap, regarded it steadily, and a tear fell from his eyeas he did so, then he kissed it, and handed it to the stranger without aword.
"If thou dost find it so hard to part with it I will not take it."
"Nay, it will be well disposed of," whispered the old man, and hepressed it into the hand of the youth, who thrust the little relic intohis bosom.
"And now God be with thee, and go and lie down, for it is late. As forme, I have a long journey to make before daybreak."
The headsman would have gone with him to help him to saddle his horse,but the stranger restrained him.
"I will arouse thy lad," said he, "I have a word for his ear."
"But the watch-dogs are vicious."
"They will do me no harm."
The stranger would not be persuaded. On reaching the kitchen he wrappedhimself in his mantle, and after inquiring whereabouts near the stablesthe 'prentice usually slept, took a lighted lamp in his hand and wentforth into the courtyard.
The mastiffs when they beheld him slunk away, growling timidly anduneasily, and only began to bark with all their throats when they foundthemselves safely behind the house. Those strange eyes had the effect ofa spell on man and beast. Meanwhile the headsman could be heard singingwithin his room the hymn:
"Ere slumber fall upon mine eyes."
The youth hastened towards the night-quarters of the headsman's'prentice. On the way thither he encountered the young woman. He pinchedher ear and tapped her on the shoulder.
"Get along with you, you naughty boy!" said she.
And then the virago sauntered back into the kitchen, leaving her guestto go where he liked.
His quest was an easy one now. He had only to proceed in the directionfrom whence the woman had come. Ivan feigned to be asleep.
"Hie! my little brother! up! up!" cried the stranger, and tugged at thefellow's hair till he opened his eyes in terror.
"Well! what's the row? what do you want with me?"
"What do I want? I'll very soon let you know, you rascal, get up, Isay!"
Ivan made no very great haste to obey.
The stranger wasted no more words upon him but began buffeting him rightand left, till his head waggled on his shoulders.
Full of fury Ivan started up from his couch and fell upon his tormentor;but the latter, with serpentine agility, clutched the fellow's throattightly with his right hand and pressed his head against the wall, whilewith his left he held a large pistol in front of his nose.
"You dare to move, you rogue, that's all, and I'll spread you out overthe wall like a painted picture."
The lad was awed by the unexpected strength of that fist and thethreatening proximity of the pistol.
"But, sir, what in heaven's name have I done?" he babbled. "Who are you,and what do you want of me?"
"Who am I, eh? I am a police-sergeant, you rascal. I am pursuing adeserter, whom you have concealed. Come, speak, what have you done withhim?"
Ivan had already begun to recover himself a little.
"I'll tell you the truth, I will indeed, only let me go. It is true thatI enticed a deserter hither, but it was not to conceal him."
"You did not bring him hither to conceal him, eh? You lie, you dog.Another falsehood, and I'll tie you to my horse's tail and drag you allthe way to Dukla. What did you do with him?"
"I'll tell you everything, Mr. Sergeant, I am a man of my word. It istrue that I enticed a young gentleman here, at one time I was hislackey. Later on we became soldiers together. I was subsequentlydischarged because I was growing blind. I am speaking the truth, I wasblind then. The young man had confidence in me, and one day, when he sawme in the street at Dukla, he implored me to hide him."
"What were you doing in Galicia?"
"My master sent me to buy horses, but I could not get any fit for us. Iam speaking the truth, I assure you I am."
"Do you know why that man deserted?"
"Yes, he shot his captain because of a woman."
"Did you hear the woman's name?"
"I heard it, but I have forgotten it."
"You lie. You know it now. Come, out with it!"
"I'll say it then--Oh! my throat!--the Countess Kamienszka."
"Did you hear it from him?"
"No, it is my own idea, for he wrote her a letter while about to fly andsent me to the post with it, that is what put them on his track, Ishould think."
"That is none of your business, where is the man now? Don't lie! I shallknow if you do, and in that case I will make an end of you at once."
"He is safe enough now, Mr. Officer, I assure you. He escaped beforedaybreak, but I denounced him, and he was arrested at the house of hisown father."
The stranger dashed the fellow's head furiously against the wall, thenflung him on the floor and kicked him.
"You denounced him, eh? Oh! you detestable dog!"
"But what is the matter, sir? Why do you strike me again? Surely I didright? I had him arrested, and they locked him up. He is in the pilloryalready, I daresay. What harm have I done?"
The stranger made an effort to master his passion, and, controlling hisrage, answered coldly,
"What harm have you done, you fool! Haven't you made me take all mytrouble in vain, and done me out of the promised reward to those whoferret out and hand over deserters. You dare to meddle with my affairsagain, that's all!"
Gnashing his teeth, he kept his pistol grasped firmly in his hand; hewould very much have liked to have beaten the fellow's shaggy poll aboutwith the butt end of it.
"Go and saddle my horse this instant!"
Ivan was only too delighted to get clear of the narrow little room wherehe was so close to this dangerous visitor's muscular fists, and went tosaddle the horse. While so employed, he could not help reflecting thatthe nag was just a trifle too good to be bestridden by a secretpolice-agent.
The stranger did not wait till he was ready, but hurried after him. Thenhe quickly mounted his horse, and presented something to Ivan.
"Here, take that!"
The fellow dodged his head, thinking he was about to get another buffet.Then the stranger flung a thaler at his feet.
"Take that, you dog, for your trouble. And now open the gate!"
The horse splashed the 'prentice's eyes and mouth full of mud as thestranger galloped away.
At the sound of the rapidly retreating hoofs the headsman thought tohimself: "That was Heaven's own gracious messenger." The headsman'syoung wife, however, sighed: "Ah! that _was_ a gay gentleman." But the'prentice growled furiously: "It was old Nick himself."
And with that he picked up the thaler, wiped the mud off it, put it inhis pocket, and then turned furiously upon the watch-dog and kicked outone of its teeth.
"Take that for not barking!" cried he.
* * * * *
The whole house of Hetfalu was still in mourning. The doctor from townlooked in every day. There were two invalids to be seen to. YoungSzephalmi was able indeed to go about, but he was like a worm-eatenplant, there seemed to be but little life within him. Old Hetfalusy, onthe other hand, had altogether succumbed to his woe, he had taken to hisbed, and was frequently tormented by epileptic fits.
The doctor, worthy Mr. Laurence Sarkantyus, regularly every daydeposited his round-headed bamboo cane in the doorway, rubbed hisshort-cropped grey hair all over with his pocket handkerchief for aminute or two, felt the respective pulses, wrote out prescriptions forunguents and syrups; ordered baths, blisters, clysters, and colddouches--and all to no purpose, as both patients seemed to dwindle awaymore and more day by day. The only really doubtful point seemed to be,which of the two would bury the other?
One day, when Dr. Sarkantyus was superintending the preparation of a hotbath, a light chaise drove into the courtyard of the castle, from whichour unknown friend descended, dressed in a stylish black frock coat,and shod with elegant calfskin shoes. His long hair was combed back andsmoothed down behind his ears on both sides, and he had an eyeglasscocked knowingly in one eye. Altogether he looked very different fromwhat he was when we last saw him. His characteristic _sang froid_, thatpeculiar rigidity of the lips, that faint furrow in the middle of theforehead between the eyebrows, and the gravity of the somewhat languidface, made the metamorphosis complete. A savant, a scholar of practicalexperience, a cosmopolitan physician stands before us.
He inquired for Mr. Szephalmi. The servants at once announced hisarrival, and presently a broken-down, prematurely aged man appeared,with sunken cheeks, pale withered lips, and staring eyes starting fromtheir sockets, and with but the ghost of their former brilliance andexpressiveness.
After the first greetings the stranger handed him a letter. Szephalmibroke it open and read it with an apology for so doing, and all the timehis hands trembled.
The letter was from his friend, Ambrose Ligety, who informed him thatthe bearer of the letter was a famous physician, who had just come fromFrance, and cured maladies by means of magnetism. Would he allow thisdoctor to make experiments upon the old squire? He had reason to believethat such experiments would not be thrown away.
Szephalmi sighed deeply, and conducted the stranger into the parlourwhere he beckoned him to take a seat. As yet they had not exchanged asingle word professionally.
Then Szephalmi went into an adjoining chamber, where he encountered Dr.Sarkantyus, and showed him the letter.
Dr. Sarkantyus thereupon told him that his honour, Judge Ligety, was abig donkey, that the French doctor was a still bigger one, but that theold gentleman would be the biggest one of all if he allowed himself tobe meddled with. Let them try it, however, by all means, if they choose,he added.
Nevertheless, he could not help going out to have a look at thismiraculous _Scaraboeus_ that professed to be able to cure men with thetips of its antennae.
The young man greeted him with refined courtesy, and the Doctor anxiousto show him that he understood French, addressed him in what he supposedto be that language, a smattering of which he had picked up as far backas the time of the Emperor Napoleon I.
"Vooz-ate oon medesen, monshoo?"
<
br /> "Oui, monsieur, mon collegue."
"The Devil is your collegue, I am not!--Vooe-ate oon magnetizoor,monshoo?"
"Oui mon cher bonhomme."
"Zate--oon--sharlatanery, monshoo!"
"Comme toute la medecine, monsieur."
Dr. Sarkantyus put both hands behind his back, measured the young manfirst from head to foot, and then from foot to head, scratched his ownhead violently, and retreated precipitately.
And now Szephalmi rejoined the stranger, and begged him to come in andsee the invalid.
In the adjoining chamber where old Hetfalusy was lying, the curtainswere drawn and the floor was covered with carpets, so that no light andno noise should disturb the sufferer.
On the lofty bed lay a motionless figure, with closed eyes and handsfolded across his breast, a motionless, helpless bit of earth, worse offindeed than other bits of earth, because it had the consciousness ofexistence.
The stranger approached the bed, seized one of the cold bony hands,tested the pulse and laid his hand on the invalid's forehead. It mighthave been a corpse that lay there. The eyes did not open, the bloodscarce seemed to flow through the veins, the respiration was hardlyperceptible.
"He lies like that all day long," said Szephalmi to the stranger.
The youth took his rings from his hands, asked for a glass of water, anddrew the tips of his fingers first round the rim of the glass and thenalong the eyeballs and the temples of the old man in a downwarddirection.
Szephalmi stood beside him with a dubious expression. The young man atonce observed it.
"You, sir, are also a sufferer," said he; "my method can cure you also."
Szephalmi smiled bitterly--galvanised corpses may smile in the sameway.
"The balm that is to cure me does not exist," said he.
"My method does not depend on material substances. You shall see. In anhour's time you shall have actual experience of my treatment. Your casesare very much alike."
"How so?"
"They are due to the same cause. The hidden seat of the evil in bothyour cases is the mind, both of you are suffering from terriblebereavements, you have lost your wife and two children, the old man hisdaughter and two grandchildren."
The sick old man drew a long and deep sigh at these words, but his eyesstill remained closed. Szephalmi sat down on a chair beside him, hid hisface in his hands, and fell a weeping.
The young unknown continued to draw his fingers softly round the rim ofthe glass, producing a ghostly sort of low wailing sound.
"The water will become magnetic before long," said he, "and then weshall see."
"Yet," pursued he, "there is an even more evil malady than the sorrow ofbereavement, and that is--remorse. You are both troubled by the bittermemories of an irrevocable past. You did not always love your children,your grandchildren, as you do now that they are both dead--and this isthe greatest affliction of all."
At these words the sick Hetfalusy opened his eyes and gazed at thespeaker in astonishment.
Szephalmi stammered sorrowfully:
"Oh, sir! why do you torture us with these words? They make the poor oldman's heart bleed."
"I see. Already he begins to revive. The medicine is a violent one, nodoubt, but for that very reason all the more efficacious. Sufferingsupervenes, and in suffering lies the very crisis of the malady. But afew more drops of this water. So! The reaction will be still moreviolent presently, as you shall see. The sick man will groan and haveconvulsions. Cold drops of sweat will exude from his temples. Afterthat, however, he will grow calmer, and the cure will be complete if Godhelp us."
The youth continued to magnetise the water.
"The sick man's greatest pain proceeds from the recollection of thoseyears when first you made the acquaintance of his recently deceaseddaughter."
"What do you know, sir, of those years?" stammered Szephalmi, muchsurprised.
"As much as a doctor ought to know whose business it is to cure thehearts of his patients. He strongly opposed the marriage of the girlwith you. He was wrong in so doing. True affection when excluded fromthe right road seeks out secret paths for itself. You discovered foryourselves some such secret path."
"Sir!"
"Hush! The patient is groaning. The cure is operating. These secretrelations had consequences which could not be hidden. Your wife becamea mother before she was yet your wife. Pardon me, sir, but it is as adoctor that I address you."
"How do you come to know all this?" faltered Szephalmi, in a scarcelyaudible voice. "And when it was kept so secret too!" he thought tohimself. The same instant the old man made a violent effort to rise fromhis bed and compel the speaker to be silent.
"It is having a strong effect, a very strong effect," said the youth,feeling the sick man's pulse. "His pulse is beating ten strikes more aminute than it did just now. Squire Hetfalusy," he resumed, "on hearingthese evil tidings flew into a violent temper; he was always a verypassionate man. He told his daughter that if she did not kill her child,he himself would kill the pair of them. He would have married her tosomeone else, to a rich man of high rank. This unlucky accident must bekept secret. The girl was very miserable. Her brother stood forth in herdefence, and took her part against his own father, and his father cursedhim in consequence, expelled him from the house, and forbade him ever toshow his face there again. And the uninvited guest, the little sucklingwho had no right to be born, also atoned for its fault; they said thatit was dead. Oh, how the sick man is pressing my hand with his crampedfingers! This method of treatment is working wonders."
Szephalmi sank back into the depths of his arm-chair and shivered as ifwith an ague fit.
"The rich man, however, abandoned the bride on the very day of thewedding, and in that same year the elder Hetfalusy suddenly grew grey.You see, sir, I am well informed. A doctor ought to know every littledetail relating to a case if he is to cure the patient. The father wasnow ready to let his daughter marry her former lover, but you were nolonger inclined for such a marriage. One day, however, the girl went toyou of her own accord, with the face of a lunatic, and threatened..."
"Hush, sir! for Heaven's sake!"
"Ah! how much more rapidly his blood is circulating. His muscles aretwitching, his lips are convulsed, his arteries begin to throb--the girlthreatened to reveal the fact that she had killed her child and so mountthe scaffold, unless you made her your wife."
The sick man began to throw about his arms, and cold drops of sweat,like transparent pearls, welled forth from his forehead. Szephalmi aroseand walked about the room wringing his hands.
"Who told you that?" he asked the stranger, suddenly planting himselfright in front of him.
"Softly, sir, you are disturbing me. The patient is about to take afavourable turn, look how he is sweating. His sufferings are violent,and I am glad to see them, it shows that his vital energy is returning.Repose is a symptom of death, pain is a sign of life. Let us go on withour magnetising. These long passes from the temples to the shoulderswork wonders. The whole soul of the sick man now clings to the thoughtthat just because he himself cast forth his first grandchild, which hehated, therefore God took from him the other two which he loved. Notice,sir! that heaving bosom, those fiery red eyes, those swelling lips--allof them are in their way the interpreters of that one thought. God haspunished him and you, the father and the grandfather; He has removedfrom you the blessing which you rejected of your own accord, and now youstand by yourselves in the world, so lonely, so comfortless, joined toeach other by nothing but the recollection of a terrible loss."
Szephalmi buried his head among the pillows of the speechless invalidand sobbed bitterly.
Then the youth arose and took the old man's hand in his hand, gazedsteadily into his burning eyes with his eyes, and with a voice ofexaltation thus addressed the unhappy wretch, who seemed to be bearingin his bosom all the torments of Hell:
"Suppose someone were to come here to you now and say, 'Behold! thatoutcast child, whom you wished to think of as dead,
nay, or murdered!whose birth you cursed, and whose death you prayed for, I now give herback to you!'--how would you feel?"
The sick man there and then drew the youth's hand up to his lips, andwith an effort raised himself up in his bed. His lips were wide open,his tongue babbled something unintelligible, while Szephalmi regardedhim with amazement, and tugged away at his own hair like one possessed.
The youth put his hand into his bosom and drew forth the little baby'scap embroidered with rosebuds and forget-me-nots, and held it up beforethe two men.
"What if someone were to restore to you the darling wearer of thatlittle cap? What if I were to tell you that a single consolation stillremained to you, an angel sent from Heaven in whom you could learn torejoice once more? What if I were to tell you that she had grown up asgentle and as beautiful as those angels who are permitted to minister tothe earth?"
At these words the father knelt down at the stranger's feet and kissedhis hands in a transport of joy, while old Hetfalusy, in a sort ofparoxysm threw himself off the bed, made a snatch at the littlepearl-embroidered cap, and exclaimed in a piercing voice:
"Elise!"
The remedy had indeed been efficacious. The old man was actually sittingup and had recovered the use of his tongue.
The broken-down old man, who had been in a state of collapse, nowviolently seized the youth's arm with his still tremulous hand, andgroped his way along it till he was able to touch the little cap withhis lips.
"Elise, Elise, wore that! How beautiful she was!" he cried.
"Where is she?" sobbed Szephalmi, hiding his face in his hands.
"Now she is indeed beautiful. She is in safe hands too. She has found aloving father who guards her as the apple of his eye. And she is wise aswell as beautiful. Her glorious eyes are as blue as the expanse ofheaven, and radiant with innocence and goodness. Her lips are as smallas wild strawberries, and when she smiles her pretty little face is fullof dimples."
"Yes, yes, she promised to be like that!" stammered Szephalmi, pressingthe stranger's hand to his heart.
But old Hetfalusy was sitting up in bed and insisted upon getting up.
"I am going. I am going for her. Lead me to her. I will fetch her."
"Softly, softly, sir. Lie down again! Remember that I am a doctor, and Ihave still to cure you. You must continue to lie in bed for some time,and cannot yet see your grandchild. The girl is with folks who love her.Her adopted father is all love, you have been all hatred. You must firstbe cured of that evil sickness."
"Of what sickness? I am no longer sick. I am quite cured."
"Of hatred. You have a cast-off son who perhaps at this very moment isstanding on the threshold of destruction. You have no thought for him.You have still some hard stones in your heart. Those stones must firstof all be pulverized and dissolved. Now if this son of yours werestanding here, and you were to stretch out your arms to him and say, 'Mychild!' then you would be cured, then you might very well say, 'I am nolonger sick.'"
"And shall I not see my child till then?" wailed Szephalmi.
"Sir, you are very exacting."
"Ask of me what you will, I place all my property at your disposal. Ifyou will not bring my child hither, at least take me where I may seeher. You need not tell her I am her father, I only want to exchange aword or two with her. Whatever price you may put on such a service Ishall not consider it too great."
"Sir, I am no impostor who wants to make money out of you. The onlyrecompense I claim for restoring to you your lost child is that youwelcome back the youth who was driven from this home. I have odd desiressometimes, but I stick to them."
The young man shrugged his shoulders, refolded the little pearl-trimmedcap, thrust it into his bosom again, and coldly replied:
"And if we cannot save this young man?"
"Then I shall keep my secret and you will never know where the girl is."
Old Hetfalusy sighed deeply.
"Bring me pen and paper," said he to his son-in-law.
The latter looked at him as if he did not understand.
The old man insisted impatiently.
"Place the table here and give me writing-materials, I say."
When he had got what he wanted he beckoned to the stranger.
"Listen, sir, to what I write," said he. Then he arose from his bed,took up the pen, and wrote with a trembling hand the following letter:
"TO GENERAL VERTESSY,
"SIR,--By a divine miracle I have recovered within the last hour my power of speech, and the use of my fingers. The very first word I am able to speak and to write I address to you who have such good cause to hate me, and that word is--mercy! I ask of you mercy towards that son of mine to whom I myself have never shown mercy. I ask for mercy from you who in your judicial capacity have never shown mercy to anyone. You know full well that all the faults of this child of mine are due entirely to me. You know that my cruelty has made life a wilderness to him and filled him with cynical bitterness--he who was always so tender-hearted that even an angry look was pain to him. Behold, sir! the one man who could venture to insult you with impunity now lies in the dust before you, and begs for your compassion. And in order that such compassion may not appear as rust on your iron character, show this letter to the world and say: 'My mortal enemy has wept before me in the dust in order that I might condescend to stoop down and raise him up.' Your humbled, eternally faithful servant,
"BENJAMIN HETFALUSY."
"Would you look at this letter, sir?" asked the old man, turningtowards the stranger--and there were tears in his eyes.
"I thank you," faltered the stranger, and he himself hastened to fold upthe letter and seal it.
"Szephalmi will deliver it."
"Nay, sir, I will see to that myself."
"_You_ will? But who, then, are you?"
"That I will tell you--perhaps--some day."
The old man took the youth's hand in both his, and pressing them warmly,said in a voice that trembled with emotion:
"God help you!"
At that moment Dr. Sarkantyus peeped in at the door, and was amazed tosee the old man talking and writing the address on a letter with his ownright hand, while his whole countenance was warm with feeling. Thismagnetic cure was truly marvellous.
He approached the youth and, bowing respectfully, remarked,
"Mossoo! vooz ate oon anshantoor!"
"Possibly, but why should we not speak Hungarian?" replied the othersmiling.
"Then you are not French?" asked the dumfounded doctor.
"Why should I be? It does not follow because a person may have just comefrom France that therefore he is a Frenchman, does it?"
"All the better pleased, I am sure, my dear colleague!"--and then itsuddenly occurred to him that only a short time ago he had said to himin Hungarian: "The Devil may be your colleague, I'm not!"
"All you have to do now is to give the patient tonics; that won'tinterfere with my cure. I shall come back again in a few days, and bythat time I hope he will be quite strong. Till then, let us trust inGod!"
The young unknown then hastened to his carriage, Szephalmi accompanyinghim the whole way.
Everyone who had recently seen the old man apparently on the verge ofthe grave, and now beheld him completely changed, going about with alively irritable temper and rosy cheeks, were amazed at thiswonder-doctor who could perform cures by the mere touch of hisfinger-tips.
"He must be a magician!" said they.
* * * * *
The unknown next presented himself at the residence of General Vertessy.
They told him this was not the official hour for being received; at suchtimes the General was wont to be with his wife. He replied:
"So much the better; what I have to tell him will be better told in thepresence of his wife."
The General was informed of this odd wish, and took to the idea sokindly that he ordered the young man
to be instantly admitted.
And, in a few moments, a handsome, courtly youth stood before him, whogreeted the General frankly and the General's wife ceremoniously. Inhis hands he carried a small forage-cap with a border of thin goldthread round it, and his whole style and bearing testified to the factthat, somewhere or other, he had been brought up as a soldier.
"I beg your pardon, General, for disturbing you so unconscionably, androbbing you of your most precious moments, but the business on which Ihave come admits of no delay. My name is Count Kamienszky, I come fromPoland, and I bring a petition in favour of young Hetfalusy, whodeserted in the belief that he had shot his captain."
The General's face grew suddenly cold. He had become a cast-iron statue,just as he was wont to be when on parade.
"From whom is your petition?"
"From the very officer for whom his bullet was intended. That bullet didnot strike home, but stuck fast in his laced jacket; yet it was wellaimed too at thirty paces, just in the middle of the heart."
"And what does the officer want?"
"Pardon for the deserter. He admits that he was in the wrong. Heinsulted a woman--I speak with absolute certainty, for I am that woman'srelation--and he would now make good his fault by imploring pardon forthe man who stood forth to wipe out that insult."
"To implore pardon is not enough. What can he say in the man's defence?"
"He certifies that the youth was a pattern of soldierly honour, valour,and discipline, that his comrades idolized him, his superiors likedhim, and they now unanimously unite in this petition for his pardon. Ihave brought letters with me to prove all that I say; be so good as toperuse them!"
The General took the letters and read them through. He discovered morethan one old comrade, more than one dear friend among the names writtenthere. The young man had spoken the truth. But what was the use of itall. The claims of duty only became the more urgent.
"Sir," said the General coldly, folding up the letters again and placingthem on the table, "I gather from your manner and bearing that you werebrought up as a soldier."
"You are right, General. I passed the years of my childhood at amilitary institution, and a little time ago I was a soldier myself."
"In that case you must have some notion of the absolute necessity of thestrictest discipline so long as the soldier is under arms."
"I am well aware of it, and it was not that which made me abandon amilitary career. If he whom I am now addressing were to say to me, 'Istand here as a judge,' I should simply withdraw, knowing that my causewas lost. But, sir, I am now addressing the man that is in you, a manwith a heart, a being blessed with human feeling, 'tis to him that Iwould speak."
And the large black eyes of the stranger had such a heart-searchingexpression in them that the General turned away from him.
Then, as if still in search of hope and confidence, the youth glanced inthe direction of the General's wife, and her bright eyes gave him inreturn such a look of encouragement, as if to bid him not to fear, forthey two were certainly at one in the matter.
But now the General turned sharply round upon the stranger again.
"Do you know what I am commonly called, whether from fear, or fun, orrespect, I will not say, that is all one to me, but do you know whatthey commonly call me?"
"Yes, they call you 'the man of iron,' yet even iron melts in asmelting-furnace."
"Do you fancy there in such a smelting-furnace in the world?"
"I hope so. I have got one more letter for you. I ought to have given itto you first of all, but I have kept it till last. The handwriting willbe familiar to you. Take it and read it through."
The General was dumfounded when he recognised the handwriting in whichthe address was written. The hand which had penned those lines had beensomewhat tremulous, that was plain from the irregularity of the script,but he recognised it perfectly all the same.
As he regarded it he grew a shade paler.
He opened the letter, and his eyes remained riveted on the very firstline as if he were too astonished to proceed any further.
"Read on, General, I beg. Read it out aloud," murmured the youth; "weshall see whether the iron will melt or not."
The General stared stiffly for a time at the young man, then he read theletter through in silence, finally refolding it and thrusting it intohis breast-pocket.
Then he turned to the window, and remained for a long time in a brownstudy.
Suddenly he turned once more towards the youth and said:
"Sir, devise some means whereby I may save this man. Find, I say, someway or mode of salvation compatible with soldierly honour, and I willpursue it."
The youth, surprised, overcome, rushed towards the General, seized hismuscular hand, and would certainly have kissed it had not the Generaldrawn it back.
Vertessy was very near losing his composure.
"Stay here!" said he. "There you have," pointing at Cornelia, "aconfederate who would also take the stronghold by assault. Deliberatetogether, and devise some expedient. I leave you to yourselves."
And with that he quitted the room, leaving the young man alone with hiswife.
And when he had gone, when the door had closed to behind him, the figureof the strange youth lost its soldierly bearing, and his limbs with apainful spasm subsided into that picturesque pose in which artistsgenerally represent Niobe, or the Daughters of Sion mourning by thewillows of Babylon. Every trace of energy and vigour vanished from hisface, his eyelids closed over his tearful eyes, and his lips parted withan expression of the deepest emotion. Once more he raised hislanguishing head to show his strength of mind, but the effort wasuseless. In the presence of a woman such affectation was no longerpossible, and when his eyes met those of Cornelia, he suddenly burstinto tears, fell sobbing on his knees before her, seized her hand,pressed it convulsively to his breast, and trembling and gasping, saidto her in a voice full of agony:
"Oh, madame, by the tender mercies of God, I implore you to help me andnot forsake me."
Cornelia regarded him with wondering eyes, her shrewd intellect hadalready deciphered the enigma, but her eyes still looked doubtful.
"Who are you?" she asked.
The stranger covered his blushing face with both hands and sobbed forth:
"A woman, an unhappy woman, who loves, who is beside herself, who isready to die for him she loves."
