A Hungarian Nabob

"Take that money, sir, and subscribe that receipt, for I assure you you will be sorry if you do not."

Kárpáthy turned contemptuously on his heel and, banging the door to behind him, withdrew. Only when he was already sitting in his carriage did the thought occur to him—"Why did I not box that man's ears?" And yet, somehow, he could not help feeling very thankful that he had omitted doing so.

Abellino durst not recount this scene to his comrades. He felt that whatever turn he might give to the affair, the artisan could not fail to appear triumphant.

But the matter did not end here.

Master Boltay did not put back in his pocket the money lying on the table, but swept it up, sent it to the editor of the Pressburger Zeitung, and the next day the following notice was to be read in the columns of that respectable newspaper: "A pater-familias residing in this town presents through us six thousand florins thirty kreutzers to the civic hospital, which amount the honourable Abellino Kárpáthy was pleased to offer as a gift to the daughter of the donor in question, who, however, thought the sum more suitably applied to charitable purposes."

The affair made a great stir. The name advertised was well known in the highest circles. Some were amused, others amazed at the comic announcement. A couple of wits belonging to the opposition complimented Abellino in front of the green table in the name of suffering humanity. As for Abellino, he strutted up and down the town all day on the offchance of calling some one out; but as nobody gave him the opportunity, he and the other young elegants finally held a conference at the Meyers' house, and it was decided that a challenge should be sent to this advertising pater-familias.

"What, Master Boltay? The master-carpenter! Why, that would be a mere jest. Suppose he refused to come out? Why, then he shall be insulted all over the place till he is forced to leave Pressburg."

"But why?"

"Why, to frighten the Philistine, of course. Cow him, tame him, take all the pluck out of him. Why, there's not a more amiable fellow in the world than a thoroughly cowed and tamed foe, for he will always be trying to make up for his earlier misdeeds. And then? Why, then the enchanted maiden, her guardian dragon once subdued, will fall an easy prey."

As to whether it was becoming for a person of quality to fight a duel with an artisan who perhaps was no gentleman, or, if he was, had forfeited the respect due to a gentleman by engaging in manual labour in order to live thereby, such a question never once arose. We all know what these honest Philistines are, and how they shake with terror even when they have to fire off their own guns on the occasion of the solemn procession on Corpus Christi Day! He'll never accept the duel, but will give explanations and offer apologies, and we'll drink a toast together with the pretty little fugitive, as Hebe, pouring wine into our glasses and love into our hearts. That will be the most natural termination to such an affair.

So in the afternoon Abellino sent his seconds to the carpenter. The first was named Livius. In all affairs of honour his opinion was a veritable canon to the jeunesse dorée of the day. The other second, Conrad, was an herculean, athletic-looking fellow, whom, on that very account, every challenger tried to secure in those cases when a little judicious bullying might be necessary. This swash-buckler had, moreover, a most imposing countenance, and a voice capable of frightening even a bear back into its den.

These two estimable gentlemen then, having, pro superabundante, written out the challenge, in case the Philistine should deny himself or hide away from them, sought out the house of Mr. Boltay and made their way into his workroom.

The master was not at home. He had got into a cart very early in the morning with Teresa and Fanny, and from the nature of his arrangements there was reason to suspect that he would be absent for some time.

Alone in the room sat Alexander drawing patterns on a piece of paper fastened to the table.

The two gentlemen wished him bon jour. He responded in a similar strain, and, approaching, asked them what were their commands.

"Hem! young man!" began Conrad, in a thunderous voice, "is this Master Boltay's house?"

"It is," replied Alexander. There is surely no need for much growling, thought he.

Conrad, snorting violently, glanced round the room like one of those fairy-tale dragons that scents human flesh, and then roared—

"Let the master be sent for!"

"He is not at home."

Conrad glanced at Livius, murmuring, "Didn't I say so?" Whereupon he planted one fist on the table, flung the other behind his back, and thrusting forward his chest, regarded the youth with a savage stare.

"Then where is the master?"

"He did not so far honour me with his confidence as to tell me," replied Alexander, who had sufficient sang-froid to assume an expression of utter indifference.

"'Tis well," said Conrad, and he drew from an inner pocket a sealed letter. "What's your name, young man?"

Alexander began looking at his interlocutor with surprise and annoyance.

"Come, come!" said Conrad, "don't be afraid. I don't mean to frighten you. I only want to know your name."

"My name is Alexander Barna."

Conrad took a note of the fact in his pocket-book, and then ceremoniously holding the letter by the edge of the envelope, he said—

"Then listen to me, my dear Mr. Alexander Barna." He laid particular stress upon the word "Mr." that the lad might be duly sensible of the honour done to him thereby. "This letter tells your master——"

"You may give it me, sir. I am Mr. Boltay's confidential agent, and during his absence he has entrusted me with the transaction of all his business."

"Then take this letter," remarked Conrad in voice of thunder; and was on the point of adding something of a very imposing character, when Alexander completely disconcerted him by indiscreetly tearing open the letter addressed to his master, and approaching the window that he might be able to read it better.

"What are you doing?" cried both the seconds at the same time.

"I am authorized by Mr. Boltay during his absence to open all letters addressed to him, and discharge all debts or claims that may come in."

"But this is a purely personal matter which does not concern you."

Meanwhile Alexander had been glancing through the letter. He now came straight towards the two seconds.

"Gentlemen, I am at your service," he said.

"How! What business is it of yours?"

"Mr. Boltay has empowered me to satisfy any claim whatever that may be made upon him."

"Well, what then?"

"Why, then," said Alexander, smoothing out the letter with his hand, "I am ready to settle this account also whenever and wherever you please."

Conrad looked at Livius. "This lad seems disposed to joke with us," said he.

"I am not joking, gentlemen. Since yesterday I have become Mr. Boltay's partner, and all the obligations of the firm are binding upon both of us equally. The credit of the establishment demands it."

Conrad began to doubt whether the youth was in his right mind or knew how to read.

"Have you read what is in that letter?" he roared.

"Yes. It is a challenge."

"And what right have you to accept a challenge which is meant for some one else?"

"Because my partner, my foster-father, is not present, and everything, be it ill or good fortune, disaster or annoyance, which touches him, touches me equally. If he were present he would answer for himself. Now, however, he is away, and he has his own reasons, no doubt, for not telling me whither he has gone or how long he will be absent; and therefore, gentlemen, you must either take away this challenge or let me give you satisfaction."

Conrad drew Livius aside to consult him as to whether this was regular according to duelling rules. Livius recalled similar cases, but only as between gentlemen.

"Hark ye, Alexander Barna," said Conrad, "what you propose is only usual among gentlemen."

"Well, gentlemen, I am not the challenger; the challenge comes from you."

This was unanswerable.

Conrad folded his terrific arms over his immense chest, and roared this question almost down the young man's throat—

"Can you fight?"

Alexander could scarce refrain from smiling. "I can fight with either swords or pistols, gentlemen," said he; "'tis all one to me. Let me tell you that I was at Waterloo and there won a decoration."

"Who are your seconds?" asked Livius, coldly. "Give me the names of two of your acquaintances."

"My acquaintances are all peaceable working men, who would have nothing to do with so risky an affair. I might possibly shoot down the challenger, and in that case, I should not like to make exiles of two innocent men; but if you will be so good as to choose for me two seconds from your own honourable circle, I will accept them whoever they may be."

"We will let you know the time and place of the meeting at once," said Livius; and with that they took up their hats and withdrew.

"It seems to me," said Livius to Conrad, as they went away, "that that young fellow has as stout a heart as any gentleman could have."

"We'll see what he's made of early to-morrow morning," returned the other.

That same evening a gorgeous silver-laced heyduke might have been seen looking for Master Boltay's workshop, and making inquiries for Alexander Barna. There was a letter in his hand.

"Be so good as to tell me," said the heyduke in a courteous voice (a sure sign that he was accustomed to polite treatment from his superiors), "whether you used to work in Monsieur Gaudehoux's atelier at Paris?"

"Yes, I did."

"And three years ago you met three Hungarian gentlemen in the Ermenouville Forest, did you not?"

"Yes, I did meet them," replied Alexander, surprised that anybody should bear in mind such minutiæ of his past life.

"Then this letter will be meant for you," said the heyduke, delivering the letter. "Be so good as to read it. I await a reply."

Alexander broke open the letter, and, as was his wont, looked first of all at the signature. A cry of astonishment burst from his lips. There stood two names written one beneath the other which every Hungarian, who accounted himself a good patriot and a man of honour and enlightenment, held in the highest veneration—Rudolf and Michael.

What could such as they have to write to a poor orphan like him, they the great men, the idols of the nation, the popular heroes of the day, to a poor unknown artisan like him?

The letter said—

"You worthy young man, you have acted quite rightly. In your place any one of us would have done the same thing. If you will accept our assistance, for old acquaintance sake, we are ready to place our service as gentlemen at your disposal."

Alexander folded up the letter with great satisfaction. He had a vivid recollection of the two young noblemen who had met him by accident at Paris, and treated him as a friend.

"I am much honoured by their lordships' offer," said he, turning to the heyduke, "and will accept it in any case."

The messenger respectfully bowed and withdrew.

In half an hour's time Rudolf and Michael appeared, and the former said that a written authorization on Alexander's part was necessary, lest Conrad and Livius should give him seconds that he did not like.

"Then there are others, also, who would offer their assistance?"

"Oh, no end to them! There is quite a competition among these young lions as to which of them shall be present at the tragi-comedy, as they call it."

"It will not be a tragi-comedy; I can tell them that."

"That is principally what induced us to offer you our services. We do not see any particular glory in hounding men on against each other, and making them fight duels which our age, unfortunately, considers such an excellent pastime. On the other hand, we regard it as our duty as gentlemen to offer you our assistance, and thereby put a stop to what might become a senseless and insulting jest, which if our feather-brained friends had their way might even have a very serious termination."

Alexander thanked them for their kindness, and early next morning the two young men appeared again in a hired coach. Alexander was ready waiting for them. He had only to seal a few letters which he had written overnight, one to his master, reporting in what state he had left the business, and the other to Fanny, begging her to do him the favour to accept as his heir the little property which his thrift had accumulated.

These letters, enclosed in a third envelope, he gave to the caretaker of the house, with the request that if he, Alexander, did not return by twelve o'clock, the envelope was to be opened and the documents inside forwarded to their respective addresses. Then he got into the carriage where Rudolf and Michael were awaiting him; a surgeon followed them in another carriage.

The youths were surprised to observe that the young artisan's face showed no signs of anxiety or trouble, nay, he bore himself as calmly and nonchalantly as if he were used to such situations.

It was still very early when they crossed the bridge leading into the park, where a freshly erected tent was standing. The youths then told the coachman to stop, and asked Alexander whether he would not like a little breakfast first of all.

"No, thank you," he replied. "People might say I wanted something to put pluck into me. Let us say afterwards—if an afterwards there be!" he added lightly, and in the best of humours.

They proceeded onwards through the wood to the spot agreed upon, and they had not waited more than a few moments before their antagonists also arrived upon the ground.

It was a cloudy, gloomy morning, and there was an expression of gloomy sang-froid on the faces of the young men which suited very well with the morning.

The enemy, smiling, and with nonchalant haughtiness, came strolling arm in arm through the silver poplar woods—Abellino, the large-limbed Conrad, and Livius. A surgeon and a servant brought up the rear.

The four seconds went apart and conversed together in a low voice; they were evidently arranging the details of the affair. They soon came to an agreement. The extreme retiring distance was fixed at five-and-forty paces, the barriers at five-and-twenty.

During this negociation, Abellino produced a pair of good flint-locked Schneller pistols, and exhibited his skill before the company. He ordered his lackey to throw linden leaves up into the air in front of him, and riddled them with bullets three times running. This he did simply to fill the adversary with terror. Michael, fathoming his object, whispered confidentially in the young artisan's ear—

"We are not going to fire with those pistols, but with ours, which are quite new, and it will not be so easy to show off with them."

Alexander smiled bitterly. "It is all one to me. My life is no more precious to me than those linden leaves."

All the necessary formalities having been arranged, the seconds attempted to reconcile the combatants. Abellino thereupon offered to withdraw his challenge under two conditions: (1) If the challenged, in the name of the firm he was defending, publicly declared that there was no intention to insult in the advertisement complained of, and (2) if Mr. Boltay caused to be inserted in the same newspaper in which the offensive advertisement had appeared a notification to the effect that Kárpáthy had given the amount in question to the girl's guardian from purely artistic motives of the noblest description.

Alexander's seconds laid these conditions before him.

He immediately sent one of them back. Did they wish to insult him? He meant in the plainest, most unmistakable manner, and with the fullest knowledge of what he was doing, to take all the responsibility of the alleged insult on his own shoulders, and he had nothing to retract.

Ah! he had far better reasons for fighting than the mere love of swagger. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to fight.

Conrad thereupon turned towards the surgeon whom they had brought with them, and roared in a stentorian voice—

"Have you your instruments with you? Then, mind you hold them in readiness. There will not be much need of blood-letting, I fancy. What! not brought your bone-saw with you, eh? My friend, your thoughtlessness is disgraceful! It happens in duels sometimes that a man is not shot through the head or the heart straight off; but the bullet may hit him in the arm or leg, and then if the bone is injured and he has to wait for an amputation till he is carried into town erysipelas may set in."

"Take your places, gentlemen! take your places!" shouted Rudolf, putting an end to this cruel prolonging of the agony.

Abellino thereupon pierced his fourth linden leaf at twenty-five paces.

"Those pistols must be put aside, as they are evidently old acquaintances," said Rudolf. "Mine are new."

"We agree," replied Conrad; "only you must take care," he continued, turning towards Abellino, "that when you prepare to take aim you do not lower your arm from your shoulder downwards, but raise it from your hip gradually upwards, so that if you aim at the chest, and the pistol kicks downwards, you may be able to hit him in the stomach, but if it kicks upwards you may hit him in the skull."

Meanwhile they were loading the pistols, dropping the bullets into the barrels in every one's sight. The challenged party then chose one of them.

Then the antagonists were placed at the two extremities of the ground, and the barriers were indicated by white pocket-handkerchiefs.

The seconds stepped aside, forming two separate groups. Conrad placed himself behind a huge poplar, capable of shielding even his bulky frame.

A clapping of hands, thrice repeated, was the signal for the opponents to advance.

Alexander remained standing in his place for some seconds, holding his pistol in his hand pointed downwards. A cold calmness was written on his face—regret you might even have called it, were not regret under such circumstances somewhat akin to cowardice. Abellino, holding himself sideways, advanced with little mincing steps, frequently pointing his pistol as if he were on the point of firing. He meant to torture his adversary by holding him in suspense as long as possible without firing. And you should have seen the malicious smile, the expression of teasing, provoking scorn, with which Abellino tried to throw his adversary into confusion. Why, a man who can pierce a falling leaf with a bullet, may be pretty sure of his man in a duel!

"Poor young fellow!" sighed Rudolph to himself, while his fellow-second was just about to call out to Abellino that such tricks were not permissible in encounters between gentlemen, when Alexander suddenly started from his place and walked with firm, unfaltering steps right up to his barrier, there stopped, raised his pistol, and took aim. His eyes sparkled with a strange fire, and his hand was perfectly steady.

This was an unheard-of audacity. Before the first shot it is most unusual for any one to walk right up to his own barrier, for, in case of ill luck, he gives his adversary a great advantage. This boldness, however, had the effect of making Abellino stop short six paces from his own barrier, and move away his thumb from the trigger of his pistol, where he had hitherto held it.

What happened the next moment nobody was able to exactly explain.

A report rang out, and half a minute afterwards another. The seconds hastened to the spot, and found Alexander standing erect in his place; but Abellino had turned right round, and his hand was over his left ear. The surgeons came running up with the others.

"Are you wounded?" they asked Abellino.

"No, no!" said he, keeping one hand continually over his ear. "Deuce take that bullet, it flew so damned close to my ear that it has almost made me deaf. I can't hear a word of what I am saying. Curse the bullet! I would much rather that it had gone through my ribs."

"I wish it had with all my soul!" roared Conrad, who now came rushing up. "You are a damned fool, for you shot me instead of your opponent! Look, gentlemen! You see that tree by which I was standing? Well, the bullet burrowed right into it. What! fire at your own seconds? Do you call that discretion? If that tree had not been there, I should have been as dead as a ducat—as dead as a ducat, I say!"

So this is what must have happened. At the very moment when Alexander's bullet whizzed past Kárpáthy's ear he must have been so startled by the shock as to have involuntarily wheeled round and clapped one hand to his ear, and the same instant the loaded pistol in his other hand must have gone off sideways. At any rate, Kárpáthy was found standing, after the shot was fired, with his back to his opponent.

He himself heard none of Conrad's reproaches, and the blood slowly began to trickle in little drops from his ear. He did not show it otherwise, but from the paleness of his face it was plain that he was suffering torments. The doctors whispered, too, that the membrane of the ear was ruptured, and that all his life long he would be hard of hearing.

Kárpáthy had to be conducted to his carriage. But for his sufferings he would have sworn. He would much rather have had a bullet in his lungs.

Rudolf and Michael then approached the seconds of the opposite party, and asked whether they considered the satisfaction given sufficient.

Livius admitted that everything was now perfectly in order, but Conrad declared that he was so completely satisfied with this duel that he would deserve to be called thief and robber if ever he took part in another as long as he lived.

"Then be so good, gentlemen, as to receipt this bill," said Alexander, turning to the seconds, and producing the written challenge which they had addressed to his master. "Kindly write at the bottom of it, 'Discharged in full.'"

The seconds laughed immensely at the idea, and, procuring a pen and ink from the first shanty they came to, they duly wrote at the bottom of the challenge the words, "Paid in full."

The young man thereupon thrust the attested document into his pocket, thanked his own seconds for their kind services, and returned on foot to town.

CHAPTER VII.

Squire John's birthday was approaching, and a famous, notable day it always was for the whole county of Szabolcs. The clergymen in all the surrounding villages ordered new frock-coats from Debreczin or Nagy-Kun-Madaras a month beforehand, at the same time directing the tailors to make the pockets "extra large;" the Lemberg firework-makers collected hay and straw far and wide for the rockets; the students of Debreczin learnt nice congratulatory odes, and set fine old folk-ballads to music; the gipsy primas bought up all the resin in the shops he could lay his hands on, and the Strolling Players' Society began, in secret, to plan how they could best escape from Nyiregyháza.6

In more distinguished circles, where prudent housewives are wont to take their unfortunate husbands in hand, and exercise towards them that office which guardian angels perform in heaven, and police-constables perform on earth, the advent of Squire John's birthday festival was the signal for domestic storms. The festival itself used to last for a week. On the first day thereof every well-ordered female being fled from the place, and on the last day thereof those of the nobler masculine race who had remained behind, came tottering home—some half-dead, others wholly drunk, and all of them more or less battered and penniless.

Squire John himself was so much accustomed to the delights of that day, that he would have considered the year lost in which he did not duly celebrate it; and any of his acquaintances who should have neglected to appear before him on the day itself would have been thenceforth regarded by him as his mortal enemies. Death was regarded as the one legitimate excuse.

The festivities were this year to be celebrated at the Castle of Kárpátfalva, Squire John's favourite residence, where nobody ever lived but his cronies, his servants, and his dogs; and he obtained special permission from his Highness the Palatine to absent himself for a fortnight from his legislative duties at Pressburg, in order that, as a good host, he might devote himself entirely to his guests.

As the day approached, an unwonted piety used to take possession of Squire John. The buffoons and the peasant wenches were excluded from the castle, and his reverence the village priest took their place, and was closeted long and frequently with the squire; the dogs and the bears were locked out of the courtyard, that they might not, as usual, tear approaching mendicants to pieces; and the Nabob and all his retainers went to church to partake of the sacrament, the former vowing on his knees before the altar that he would mark the day by giving all his enemies the right hand of fellowship and forgiveness. Then came the regulation interview between the Nabob and his steward, Mr. Peter Varga, who was such a fool that he not only did not know how to steal, but was by no means willing to even receive presents except for services rendered. Anybody else in his place would long since have become a millionaire; but he had not got much beyond fastening a pair of silver spurs in his Kordovan leather boots, and making use of a ramshackle old calèche, to which he attached two horses, trained by his own hand ever since they were colts. This, moreover, was only when he wanted to cut a figure.

And now, too, we see him descending from this venerable conveyance. He forbears to drive right in, lest the cranky wheels of his carriage should cut up the beautiful round pebbles with which the courtyard is covered.

The inside of the carriage was chock-full of longish tied-up bundles of documents, which Mr. Peter first of all crammed into the arms of the two heydukes hastening to meet him, and sent on before him, whilst he, picking his way along, with his spurred feet at a respectable distance from each other, straddled leisurely into the presence of Master Jock, who was awaiting him in the office of the family archives, whose gigantic whitewashed and gilded coffers, in their worm-eaten cases, rose up to the ceiling, filled with the mummies of old deeds and discharged accounts, which, for a long series of years, had been disturbed by nobody except an ostracized mouse or two; and what accursed appetite or hereditary perversity constrained even them to feed upon such meagre fare, when the granaries and bacon-larders were in such tempting proximity, Heaven only knows.

Master Jock, on perceiving the approaching steward, leaned forward in his armchair, and held out his hand. Peter, however, instead of advancing straight towards the hand extended towards him, retreated backwards all round the large oak table, to avoid the discourtesy of approaching his honour from the left hand; and, even when he got where he thought he ought to be, he remained standing before him, at three paces' distance, and bowed with deep respect.

"Come, come, man! Draw nearer!" cried the confidential heyduke Palko,7 who was also present. "Don't you see that his honour has been holding out his front paw for ever so long?"

"Crying your pardon," said the worthy steward, drawing his hands away, "I am not worthy of so much honour!"

And not for the whole world could he have been brought to extend his hand towards Master Jock, to whom he alone of all the world gave his proper title. It was also impossible to ever get him to sit down by the side of his honour. Palko had to hold him down in a chair by main force, but he would always jump up again, and remain standing before his master as soon as the pressure was removed.

And, indeed, his honour, the steward, and the heyduke made up an odd-looking trio between them. Kárpáthy's face, at such moments, was always unusually serene, his great bald forehead shone like the cupola of a temple, the scanty remains of his grey hair curled round his forehead and the nape of his neck in silvery wisps; he was shaved beautifully smooth, save for a well-kept moustache curling elegantly upwards at both ends; the fiery redness of his eyes had vanished, and there was no longer any trace of deforming wrinkles.

Opposite him stood the worthy steward, with the old-fashioned, scrupulously obsequious, and infallibly respectful homage of a former generation writ large on every feature of his bronzed countenance. His moustache was clipped close to save trouble, but all the more care had he bestowed upon his marvellous powdered top-knot—itself a survival—which respectable elevation the worthy fellow revealed to the light of day, neatly bound up with a black ribbon. Behind him stands the old heyduke Palko in a laced dolman. He is just as old as they are. All three have grown up together, all three have grown old together; and now, too, Palko is as familiar with his honour as he used to be in the days when they played and fought together in the courtyard. The old fellow's head is grey now, but not a hair of it has he lost, and its flowing abundance is brushed backwards and kept in its place by a circular comb; his moustache is more pointed than a shoemaker's awl, and waxed to a fearful extent at both ends; his features are so simple that a skilful artist could have hit them off in three strokes, only the colouring would have given him something to think about, for it is a little difficult to paint-in blood-red on scarlet.

"Would his honour," said Peter, standing by the table, "be graciously pleased to cast his eyes over these accounts? I have made so bold as to most humbly make out a brief summary thereof, that his honour may find the examination a little easier." And with that he beckoned to Palko to put down the documents.

The latter venomously banged down the whole bundle on the table, but he could not refrain from observing, "What a shame to spoil such a lot of nice clean paper by scribbling on it!"

"You speak like a fool," growled Master Jock.

"It would be all the same, so far as your honour is concerned, if they put blank paper before your honour; for they don't pay the slightest attention to what your honour says. It is not enough to know that they do rob you; I should also like to know how much they rob you of."

"Come, come, my heart's best son, what do you mean by talking to your master like that? Look now! you shall look through all the accounts along with me, from beginning to end, so just stand behind my chair, and hold your tongue."

"I am ready to eat up all that your honour looks through," murmured the old servant to himself.

Thereupon Master Jock, with commendable determination, extended his hand towards the top-most bundle lying before him, which contained the accounts of his agent János Kárláts, and began fumbling about with it till he arrived at the conviction that he could make neither head nor tail of it, whereupon he handed it back to Mr. Peter, who immediately found the schedule he was looking for.

"This is a schedule of the income and expenditure of your Kakadi estate."

And now, reader, let us listen. You may find it a trifle tedious, perhaps, but you could not have a better opportunity of seeing how the estates of the Nabob were administered.

"With your honour's gracious permission, I would beg to call your attention to a few notes in the margin concerning the exact position of affairs, if your honour will listen to them."

Master Jock intimated that he would undertake to do as much as that.

"To begin, then, the Kakadi estate this year yielded twelve thousand bushels of pure wheat, consequently, the richest soil scarcely produced sufficient grain to pay for the expense of cultivating it."

"It was a bad year, you know," objected Master Jock. "The corn was levelled with the ground by hailstorms in the spring, and there was so much rain afterwards that it sprouted in the stack."

"That, indeed, is what your agent said," returned Mr. Peter; "but he could have insured against hail at Pressburg, and there's such an enormously big barn on the estate, that the whole crop could have been safely housed, and then there would have been no fear of its sprouting."

"Very well, Master Peter, go on! Another time things shall be different; you may rely upon me for that."

"The twelve thousand bushels of corn were sold at nine florins the bushel to a corn-dealer of Raab, I see, thus making a total of one hundred and eight thousand florins, although I notice from the newspapers that good wheat was selling all the time at Pest at twelve florins the bushel, and the corn might easily have been transported thither, for, owing to the inundations, the oxen had no work to do."

"Yes; but those very inundations carried away the bridge, so that it was impossible to cross the Theiss."

"It was a pity, truly, that the water carried away the bridge, but if the dyke had been kept in proper repair, the water would not have got at the bridge."

"Never mind; rely upon me in the future. Go on!"

"The millet-seed, it is said, got musty from waiting too long for purchasers, so that we could only get eight thousand florins for it. Now, that is a misstatement. I know as a fact that there was no rain just then; but the agent, in order that he might attend a christening, stacked the crop so hastily that it got black and sour from heat."

"No, really! And would you, as a Christian man, I ask, have the agent postpone the baptism of his son even for the sake of all the millet-seed in the world? Leave that to me, and go on!"

"The water carried away the hay because, just in the middle of harvest-time, your honour required the services of every man capable of holding a hay-fork at a big hunt. Otherwise nice large sums would, as usual, have been entered to your honour's credit under this item."

"Well, then, it is simply my fault this time; the poor fellows are not to blame. Rely upon me in the future."

"On that account, however, the receipts are increased by a new item, to wit, the hides of the sheep and oxen, which fell dead in heaps from want of fodder."

"Ah, you see it is an ill wind that brings nobody any good."

"On the other hand, our receipts are less, so far as the item of wool is concerned, which usually is considerable."

"Yes, I know, the price was low; there was scarce any demand for it."

"Moreover——"

"Let that be, Peter. We know that you are a worthy, honest man, and that everything is in order. What is that other bundle there?"

"That is the account of Taddeus Kajáput, the overseer of the Nyilasi estate."

"Ah! that is generally interesting reading. Any fresh discoveries?"

The gentleman in question was an enterprising soul, who had started model farming on the estate committed to his care, but this model farming cost infinitely more than it brought in. Moreover, amongst other things he had started glass-works, sugar-works, a silk-factory, a post-office, laid down fir plantations in drift-sand, not to mention many other wonderful things, all of which had come to grief.

"So that is what comes of your scientific gentlemen taking up economical questions," observed Master Jock, sententiously, when he had laughed heartily over each separate item.

"I humbly crave your honour's pardon," said Peter, "but it is not the scientific but the semi-scientific who do the mischief. Science is one of those poisons of which a good deal cures but a little kills."

"Well, well, let us go on with the rest. What is that slender little bundle over there?"

"That is the report of the lessee of the opal mines. He has paid the four thousand florins rent in precious stones, which we could have bought in the market for a thousand florins, if we had paid cash for them."

"But what is the poor man to do? He must live. I know he has children to support."

"But there was a merchant here from Galicia a little time ago who looked at the mine and offered twenty thousand florins rent for it straight off."

"What? Would you have me give the mine to a man from Galicia—to a foreigner? Not if he paid me for it with the stars of heaven! Let us stick by the old agreement. What is that other bundle?"

"That is the account of the Talpadi Forest."

"The Talpadi Forest! Why, it is now twelve years since I have seen any accounts at all from that quarter. Don't you recollect how you and I were out coursing a little time ago, and the rain overtook us? It doesn't matter, said I. We must be near my Talpadi forest; let us gallop thither and shelter till the storm has blown over. So we galloped thither in hot haste, and when we got there not a trace of the forest was to be seen. At last I asked a maize-reaper I fell in with, where on earth the Talpadi forest was? Over there, said he, pointing to a spot where some fifty birch-trees were withering in the sand like so many broomsticks, all set nicely in a row. And that, if you please, was the Talpadi forest which I had planted at a very great cost! You had better tell the man to plant out a few more broomsticks if he wants me to see my forest in the future."

"This, again, is the account of the miller of Tarisa. He always mixes bran with his meal."

"Let him alone; he has a pretty wife."

"Pretty, but bad, your honour."

Upon this moral observation, Master Jock thought fit to make the following philosophical commentary:—

"My friend, bad women are a necessity in this world. For inasmuch as there are dissolute men, it is needful that there should be dissolute women also, for otherwise the dissolute men would of necessity cast their eyes upon the virtuous women. You just leave that to me."

"Yes, you leave the wife of the miller of Tarisa to his honour," observed Paul, from behind his master's chair.

"What, sir, you presume to speak again, eh?"

"I? I never said a word."

"Come, then, Peter, let us make an end of these accounts quickly. Surely, there's no need of so much fussing. What else is there?"

"Your honour's donations and charities."

"Don't undo them. You need only tell me which are paid. Are there any fresh claims upon us?"

"Yes. The college at A—— has not received its annual gift."

"It did not get it because it did not send in a petition on my birthday last year."

"Then if it sends the petition this year you will give the donation, I suppose?"

"Yes, and for last year too."

"There are, besides, a heap of petitions and circulars."

"What for?"

"This is an invitation to subscribe to the foundation of a Hungarian learned society."

"Not a farthing will I give. The kingdom was happy enough till the pedants got into it. We learn quite enough at college."

"Here is the specimen-sheet of a newspaper about to be started."

"Newspaper!—a parcel of lies! I'll not spoil my den with that rubbish, I warrant you."

"Here is a proposal to found a permanent Hungarian theatre at Buda-Pest."

"Whoever wants play-acting can come here to me. There's a theatre here and lots to eat, and they can stay, if they like, all their days."

"Here is a suggestion for bettering the position of the National Museum."

"I'll wager I have far better collections here than there are in the National Museum."

And this was the way in which the Hungarian magnate examined his accounts every year.

When the worthy steward had withdrawn, the Nabob sent for his fiskal, or family lawyer, who found him looking out of the window, motionless, with his hands behind his back.

The fiskal stood and waited for his master to turn round. He waited a good half-hour, but the Nabob turned round at last, and said to his man of business, "Pray sit down, sir, and write."

An unusual embarrassment was observable in the Nabob's voice, which would certainly have surprised anybody else but the fiskal.

"My dear younger brother," old Kárpáthy began to dictate, "inasmuch as you are living at present in this realm, and I do not wish the name of Kárpáthy to be slighted on this particular day when I have made peace with all who ever angered me, therefore I now, as becometh a kinsman, offer my hand to you also, my younger brother,8 in the hope that you will not reject it; and I, at the same time, send you, my younger brother, two hundred thousand florins, which you shall receive from me, so long as I live, from year to year. And I hope that henceforth we shall continue to be good kinsmen."