King Matthias and the Beggar Boy

The men charged with affixing this to the castle walls withdrew when their work was done without having seen any one. But some one or other had seen and read the summons; for when they returned the next morning, it had been torn down, and in its place, also affixed to the four sides, appeared these words:—

A week after this bold answer another summons was put up. This time it was:—

The day following the answer appeared:—

About a week after this last reply, a company of soldiers, under the command of General Zokoli, surrounded the ill-omened castle, which stood out grey and silent against the rose-coloured mists which ushered in the sunrise.

The general had given orders for the scaling-ladders to be put up, when all at once a huge raven-black banner rose up from the centre of the building with a shining death's-head displayed upon it, and beneath this the words:—

Zokoli ordered the assault to be sounded, and soon the brave soldiers, always accustomed to be victorious wherever they went, might have been seen climbing the ladders on one side of the "Cube." As soon as they reached the top of the wall, which was also the ridge of the roof, it turned on a hinge, or rather sprang open like a trap-door, as if it had been touched by a conjuring rod, and disclosed to their astonished eyes the gaping mouths of three rows of guns ranged close together.

Now came a blast, loud and deep, like the sound of some giant trumpet or organ-pipe, and then what appeared like a long fiery serpent darted from one corner of the building to the other, and was followed the next moment by the thundering roar of a couple of thousand guns.

There was one loud, terrible cry, and when the cloud of smoke cleared away, a couple of hundred men were to be seen lying dead and maimed round about the castle.

The king had given Zokoli strict orders to spare his men as much as possible. He ordered one more assault on the same side therefore, thinking that the defenders would not have had time to reload their guns. But again a couple of hundred of the besiegers fell a useless sacrifice to the experiment; and unwilling to waste any more lives, General Zokoli retired, completely baffled and much mortified, to report what had happened. And then the king's anger blazed forth, and he exclaimed,—

"Wait, and I'll teach you, Samson!"

CHAPTER IV.
IN THE ROBBER'S NEST.

There were a good many matters, as we have seen, requiring his attention in Hungary just then, and therefore, though he was extremely angry with Samson for his contemptuous behaviour, he decided to put off punishing him for a time. He felt that, after General Zokoli's discomfiture, it would be wisest not to take any further steps against the clever robber until he could be certain of success; and he resolved on all accounts therefore to wait until Miska made his appearance, or at least until the six months had expired.

Of course there were some who believed that Miska would never be seen again. The king had taken a fancy to him, that was all; but he was only a beggar boy, when all was said and done, and most likely he had sold his new clothes to the first Jew he came across, and was in rags again by this time!

When three months, four months, five months, passed away without bringing any news, those who knew anything about the matter shrugged their shoulders and shook their heads more than ever.

But one fine morning, just six months after Miska had left Visegrád, and when every one but the king had given him up, it was announced that a stranger had arrived in Buda, giving no name, but saying that he had been entrusted with special business by the king, and could not give account of it to any one else. The king's whims were so well known at the court that the stranger was admitted without difficulty, and was ushered into the king's presence forthwith. Matthias was alone, and at once recognized his man, who stepped into the room, looking very spruce, and as sound as an acorn.

"It's you, Miska! You have brought good news; I can see it in your eye. You're a man—speak!"

Miska bowed, and when he had a little recovered himself—for there was something about the king which was rather awe-inspiring in spite of his good nature—he drew a deep breath and said,—

"I have been there, Mr. King—in the castle with Mr. Samson—and I know all about it!"

"Let us hear," said the king, with delighted and eager curiosity. "But, little brother, try and tell your tale in an orderly way. First say how you got into the castle, and then tell me what you saw and heard. Be bold, my friend, and speak without reserve."

"Mr. King," began the ex-beggar, "I knew I should never get in by asking, and it might be the worse for me into the bargain; besides, there was neither door nor window, nor any one to speak to. 'Well,' I thought to myself, 'I shall never get in this way; I must keep watch and find out about those Jews. They get in somehow, though they never get out again—so people say.'"

"Right!" said the king; "go on."

"Well, Mr. King, I waited about there for ten weeks. I spied about all round the castle, and often went hungry; for I had no time to get food, though, thanks to you, I had the means. But it was all to no purpose. At last I began to think that perhaps Mr. Samson was dead, and that Your Highness would soon be thinking that I had eaten and drunk up my money and gone off. I was sitting on the trunk of a tree just outside the wood, but not very far from the castle, one evening, and I was feeling rather downcast about it all, when I fancied I saw two people coming. They were not coming from the castle, it is true, but were creeping through the thicket. 'Ho, ho!' I thought to myself. 'Now, Miska, have your wits about you! Suppose these night-birds should be on their way to the castle.' But being one alone against two, I took out my two pistols and waited to see what might happen."

Miska now opened his dolmány, and showed a steel coat of mail which he wore beneath it. "I had got myself this," he said, tapping it with his finger, "for I thought it might save me from being mortally wounded if I should happen to get caught anywhere by Samson's men, and I bought two pistols besides."

"You were wise," said the king.

"Well, it was not long before the men came quite close to me; but instead of going on towards the castle, they turned off in the direction of a little hollow. I had stood still till then, so that they should not notice me suddenly; and perhaps they would have gone on, if an abominable great long-eared owl which was just above my head had not begun its dismal evening song at that moment. They were just within about four steps of me when she gave a long, melancholy hoot, and one of the two men looked up and caught sight of me at once. The next moment he lifted his cap to me as humbly 'as if he could not count up to three.' His companion, too, turned and looked about carefully, and I fancied I caught a glimpse of the glitter of a knife. So I just drew out one of my pistols and said coolly, 'See what I have got for you.'"

"Eh! what?" exclaimed Matthias in surprise.

"Why, of course, Your Highness; for I thought it would be much better to be beforehand with them."

The king laughed.

"Well, and I think, Mr. King, that I did not reckon amiss: for by doing as I did, I made them suppose that I was a highwayman, and just as bad as themselves—supposing they belonged to the castle; and besides that, it gave me an opportunity of finding out whom I had to do with."

"Go on," said the king; "this is very interesting. Let us hear more."

"Well, things might have gone very crooked," proceeded Miska; "for I had no sooner given the alarm than they were both down on me at once as quick as lightning, and I felt two daggers strike my mail coat.

"Fortunately for me I was quite prepared, and I did not lose my presence of mind. I fired one pistol just as they fell upon me, but of course I did not hit either of them. But my armour had done me good service; for the two fellows were disconcerted when they found that their daggers had touched metal, and I had time to jump on one side and point my second pistol at them.

"There was a little pause; my men had not given up their designs upon me, as it seemed, but were consulting, I suppose, how to escape the second charge of peas, and they seemed to mean to separate and come on me from both sides at once. 'But,' thought I, 'if you have, so have I—wits, I mean—and as from all I had heard of Samson's rascally associates I was quite sure that I had found my gentlemen, I took advantage of the short pause, and cried out,—

"'May seventy-seven thousand thunderbolts strike you! Hear what I have to say, and don't rush upon a fellow like mad dogs!

"'I am wanting to come across Mr. Samson; I am tired of living on my own bread, and I should like to enter his service. If you belong to the castle, it would be better for you to take me to him, instead of attacking me; for I am not in the least afraid of you—and, what's more, a couple of chaps like you won't outwit me.'

"As soon as I had said my say with all possible speed, but in a firm rough voice, one of the scamps looked me all over from top to toe, as if he were going to buy me of a broker. The man was a sturdy, stout-limbed fellow, and as black as the darkest gipsy; and standing only a span from the muzzle of my pistol, without winking an eyelid, he said,—

"'Who are you, and what do you want with Mr. Samson? If you have come to spy, you may say your last prayer, for you won't see the sun again.'

"The man said this in such a soft, drawling voice, and so deliberately, that it suddenly struck me he was imbecile; for I had my finger on the trigger all the time, and one touch would have stretched him on the ground. However, I won't deny that his cool composure made me shudder a little.

"I answered as coolly as I could, 'I want to enter his service, sir, for I fancy he is a fine brave man; and a fellow like me, who cares nothing for his life, might be useful to him.'

"My man kept his eye upon my every movement. At last he said,—

"'I don't know who you are yet.'

"I hesitated half a moment, for I did not want to tell him my real name, and then I said they called me Alpár János, that I was an orphan, and that until now I had made a poor living by doing just anything that came to hand—which was true enough.

"As far as I could see in the twilight, the man's face began to clear; he whispered a few words to his companion in a language I did not know, Slovack or Latin, then looked me over again from top to toe, and said,—

"'Good! then you can come with us. We will show you the way in; it will be your own affair how you get out again, if you grow tired of scanty dinners.'

"Here our conversation ended," said the lad; while the king, who had listened to his preface with lively interest, said, "Very good. So you got in. And now tell me what the castle is like inside."

And here perhaps it will be better to take the words out of Miska's mouth and describe in our own way what he saw.

The castle, as has been said, was built round the four sides of a square, and, as was often the case with old strongholds, a wide covered gallery, or corridor, ran along each side, surrounding the courtyard. There was not a sign of stables anywhere, for there was no way of getting horses in except by lowering them over the walls by a windlass. The ground-floor consisted of store-rooms and living-rooms; the keys of the former being always kept by the master, who allowed none but the most trusty persons to go into them, for they contained valuable goods of every sort and kind. Mr. Samson regularly visited these vaults, on the fifteenth of every month at midnight, when he was accompanied by twelve Jews. But how these latter got in, where they came from, and where they went to, was known to no one but Mr. Samson himself. The men looked like merchants, and he gave stuffs and ornaments, in certain quantities and of certain values, to each. Then he took them into a large empty room lighted by a four-cornered lamp which hung from the ceiling, and here for a couple of hours they were all busy counting money at a stone table. This was packed into various bags, and when Mr. Samson had given a purse to each of his agents, the Jews took their departure amid a shower of compliments, and in what appeared to be a very well satisfied frame of mind, Mr. Samson escorting them and showing them the way. But whither they went, and why, and how, and by what way—that heaven alone could tell.

In the upper story of the castle there were some fine, cheerful, and well-lighted rooms; which is not a little surprising, for their windows all looked into the covered gallery, and from that into the courtyard. However, this may be explained to some extent by the fact that the windows of these upper rooms were wide and lofty, the walls were painted snow-white, and were covered with some sort of varnish which doubled the light.

The furniture was in accordance with the taste of the day, and chosen rather for its good wearing qualities than for comfort; but the bright colours produced a pleasing and cheerful effect on the whole.

Mr. Samson kept an entire half of this story for the use of himself and his only relation, a young girl of fifteen named Esther, and an old woman who lived with her. Of the two other sides of the square, one was occupied by servants, the other was furnished but unused.

CHAPTER V.
CAUGHT.

Mr. Samson was said, naturally enough, to be a man-hater. The walls of the Cube castle were twelve feet thick, and its inmates could see nothing either of their fellow-creatures or of God's beautiful world; for there was neither door to go in by nor window to look out of, and nothing whatever to be seen but the courtyard.

It was not a cheerful home certainly for the young girl whom Mr. Samson had some years previously brought to live there. He called her a relation of his, and she called him "uncle," but it did not at all follow that she was his niece; for it is the custom in Hungary, and considered only common politeness, for young people to address their elders as "uncles" and "aunts," whether related or not.

If Mr. Samson was commonplace in appearance, little Esther was very much the reverse. Without being regularly beautiful, there was a great charm about her, and she had a look of distinction which was entirely wanting in her guardian or jailer. Her clear, deep-blue eyes were full of life and animation, and the whole expression of her face told of a good heart. Add to this that she had a remarkably sweet and beautiful voice, and that, though untaught, she had a good ear for music, and was very fond of singing, and it will be understood that Esther was altogether not uninteresting. If she was not striking at first sight, yet the more one saw of her the more impressed and attracted one felt.

She was very much in awe of her "uncle," though she could not have said why, and though she had now lived with him some seven years, ever since the death of her parents indeed, when he had brought her away to the castle, with her attendant Euphrosyne, she being then a child of eight.

Esther was now fifteen, but she had as yet no idea that Mr. Samson was planning in his own mind to unite her more closely to himself by making her his wife, or she would have shrunk from him even more than she did now, though she knew nothing against him, and he could never be said to have ill-treated her in any way except that he kept her a close prisoner. Perhaps he thought that, considering her age, she had liberty enough; for she was free to go from one room to another, and she could walk up and down the gallery and in the courtyard.

But though she had grown accustomed to the life now, there were times, especially when the sun shone down for a short hour or two into the dull courtyard, in spring and summer, when the girl would look up with longing eyes to the blue sky and wonder what the world looked like outside the four grey walls. Sometimes she would see a bird fly past overhead, or watch a lark soaring up into the air, singing as it went. Then the past would come back to her, and she would remember a time when she had run about the green fields, and had spent long days in the garden; when she had gathered wild flowers and wood-strawberries, and had heard the birds sing.

It made her a little sad to think of it all, and for a time she felt as if she were in a cage, and wondered whether she was to spend all her life in it; but she was blessed with a cheerful disposition, and on the whole she was not unhappy. She made occupation for herself in one way and another: she sewed, she embroidered, she netted; she read the two or three books she had over and over again, and she even wrote a little. When one day Mr. Samson brought her a harp from his hoard of treasures, she was delighted indeed: and having soon managed to teach herself how to play on it, she spent many a happy evening singing such songs as she had picked up or invented for herself.

Mr. Samson liked to hear the full, clear young voice singing in the gallery, though he seldom took any apparent notice of the singer. In his way perhaps he would have missed Esther a little if she had been taken from him; but he was not a kindly or affectionate personage, and the girl had no one to care for but Euphrosyne, a rather tiresome, foolish old woman, who often tried her patience a good deal with her whims and fidgets. Esther, however, was very patient with her, and clung to her simply because there was no one else to cling to.

Mr. Samson had given them three rooms in a distant corner of the gloomy building, where they were quite out of the way of everybody; and Esther's rooms being the two inner ones, she could never leave them without the knowledge and permission of the old woman, through whose room she had to pass.

There was no doubt that Mr. Samson carried on an extensive business of a peculiar kind. He was very secret about it, and what with his armed garrison, and the odd way in which the castle was built, as if to stand a siege, there seemed good reason to suspect that his valuable goods and rich merchandise were collected from the whole length and breadth of Hungary, and were, in fact, gathered from every country-house and peddler's pack and bundle which he could find means to plunder. Not that Samson ever resorted to violence if he could possibly help it—quite the contrary; and though he was reckoned among the most powerful robber-knights of the time, he was really more thief than robber, and did also a great deal in a quiet way by lending money at very high interest.

He would steal out of the castle on foot, disguised now as a beggar and now as a Jew; and his followers were never to be seen anywhere together in any number. They lounged along singly, at a considerable distance one from the other, and they took care not to excite suspicion in any way.

They had nothing in the way of weapons but a couple of short, sharp daggers, which they kept carefully concealed, and never used except in cases of extreme necessity, and in secret places, such as deep ravines or woods; but when they did have recourse to them, they used them with bold determination and deadly certainty. No one ever escaped from the clutches of these accursed robbers, and no one therefore could ever betray them. They managed, too, to conceal all traces of their deeds of blood, so that though there were rumours and suspicions, the guilt was not brought home to them. People who met them saw but one, or at most two, at a time, looking as meek and mild "as if they could not count up to three," as the saying is.

Mr. Samson himself rarely went out quite alone. There were always one or two men in whom he placed especial confidence, and one or other of these always accompanied him.

And now Miska shall take up his narrative again.

"I was not badly off in the castle," said he. "I was bent on winning Mr. Samson's confidence above everything, and I succeeded, because I strove to enter into all his thoughts. I was not too humble and deferential, but I put myself in his place, and showed great interest in all the work that went on inside, which was chiefly keeping guard and cleaning arms.

"Mr. Samson went away once every fortnight; and I fancy the Jews came twice while I was there, for Mr. Samson twice shut all the doors carefully, which he did not do at other times. I must say I should have liked to join him in his secret adventures; but much as he seemed to trust me, I had no chance of doing so.

"I had been in the castle about a fortnight, I suppose, when one night the bell rang in my little room. There was a bell to every hole in the castle, and the bell-pulls all hung in a long row along two sides of one of Mr. Samson's rooms.

"I got up at once and went to him, and found him lying in an arm-chair, wearing a flowing indoor robe.

"'Alpár János,' said he, 'I have to leave the castle to-morrow; you will stay here. Keep an eye on the people, and when I come back tell me minutely all that has happened during my absence. I believe you are faithful to me; and if you continue to please me, I will double your wages.'

"I received his orders respectfully, as usual; but after a short pause I said, 'I would much rather you should take me with you, for I think you would find me more useful outside than here, where there is nothing I can do.'

"'I want a faithful man more here than outside,' said Mr. Samson. 'Your turn will come presently; meantime obey all the governor's orders as if I were here myself. And now you can go. Everybody will notice my absence to-morrow, but for all that don't you say a word about it to any one—that is one of my laws.'

"'I will obey you, sir,' I said, and then I went back to my quarters.

"The governor, a gloomy-looking, stout fellow, who could hardly be more than four-and-twenty, and was called simply Kálmán, had taken a great liking to me, for I always showed him more respect, if possible, than I did to Mr. Samson himself."

"You were wise there," interposed the king. "The smaller the man, the more respect he claims."

"And," continued Miska, "this stood me in good stead; for while Mr. Samson was away we lived better, and now and then the governor sent me a draught of good wine."

"Ah, I see," said the king; "nothing much out of the ordinary way—rumour has said more than was true. But did you become acquainted with little Esther?"

"The young lady came out into the gallery more often while Mr. Samson was away. Sometimes she would walk up and down there till late in the evening, and she would bring out her harp and sing to it. She was so gentle and kind that I spoke to her one day and asked her to listen to a song of mine; I had made the verses and invented the tune myself."

"Oh!" laughed the king; "then you are a poet too, are you, Miska?"

"Only a sort of 'willow-tree verse-maker,'[6] Mr. King. But pretty Miss Esther listened to it very kindly—and what is more, she wrote it down—and after that she spoke to me every evening, and asked me many questions about Buda and Your Highness; and I told her long stories of all that I had seen in the woods and fields. She wanted to hear about the trees and flowers and birds, which she remembered; and one evening, when no one was within hearing, I told her how I had met Your Highness, and how you had sent me to Visegrád, and all I had seen there, and how you promised me a horse. I had to tell her that story so often that I think she knows every step of the way. I did not tell her that Your Highness had sent me to get into the castle, for walls have ears. But one evening she stopped singing suddenly and asked me what I had come there for. So first I said, 'To be one of Mr. Samson's servants;' and then I said in a whisper, 'To set you free.'

"'Ah, Jancsi, if you only could!' she said. 'How lovely it would be! But you can't; nobody can.'

"So then I told her not to be afraid, for I would somehow; and if I couldn't, some one else would, I knew—meaning Your Highness, of course."

"And pray what did the old lady say to your talking to her charge in this way?"

"O Mr. King, she was my very good mistress; I managed to get into her good graces. And there's no denying it, Your Highness, when Mr. Samson went away for the third time, Miss Esther herself told me to be very attentive to the old woman. And it answered perfectly, for she asked me all sorts of things and put all confidence in me; and the governor often chaffed me about it, and said that Mrs. Euphrosyne and I would be making a match of it. Miss Esther often said how happy we might be if we could escape from Mr. Samson and the gloomy castle, and I promised, Your Highness, when Mrs. Euphrosyne was not listening."

"Well, Miska, and I promise too. Miss Esther shall be let out when I get in," said the king. "But now listen. Have you told me all that I want to know about the interior of the castle?"

"Ah," said Miska, "who could find out all its secrets? Mr. Samson said more than once: 'Woe to him who tries to take it, for it will cost the lives of thousands, and he will never get in after all.' And it was as he said: when they assaulted the castle, Mr. Samson did not so much as leave his room, but sat there as quiet as you please. What went on up above in the roof I don't know, for others were sent up and I was not. I only heard the firing, and saw them bringing the gunpowder out in small casks through a trap-door. More than once, too, I heard him say that he had only to pull a string and the castle and everything in it would be blown up. And I saw the red string, too, which would have done it: it could not be reached except by means of a ladder, and it was in Mr. Samson's own sleeping-room."

"Then you saw them raise the black standard?"

"To be sure; and they did it as easily as if they were lifting a stick."

"But tell me, how did you get out?" asked the king, cutting him short.

"I did that only five days ago," said Miska. "Mr. Samson called me at last one evening and said,—

"'Miska, I am satisfied with you; you will go with me to-night, at midnight. There will be only the two of us; have you the courage?'

"'I have,' I answered.

"'See,' Mr. Samson went on, taking a couple of daggers out of a table-drawer, 'I will make you a present of these; they are the only arms you will have. Be ready, and when I ring at midnight make haste and come to me.'

"I haven't much more to tell you, Mr. King. He led me through several vaults till we came to a door which led into an underground passage, and this ended in a cave, which I took good note of, so that I could find it again; and when we had passed through it and reached the open air, my spirits rose. We went on through a thick wood, Mr. Samson taking the lead. The night was dark and stormy. I kept him talking all the while, and tried to enliven him with all sorts of jokes; and he actually called me a very sly dog, and laughed himself as if he enjoyed them.

"We had been going on about a couple of hours, when Mr. Samson said we had reached our destination, and that before long a rich Jew would be passing by, and that he had a well-filled money-bag which we were to take away from him. He warned me to be careful, and not to use my dagger unless he called out.

"I suppose Mr. Samson had heard of the rich Jew's coming from his Jew friends, who frequently came to the castle without any one's knowing anything about it—so I heard from Kálmán—and by secret ways which he had told them of.

"The moon shone out through the thick trees for a moment, and I saw that Mr. Samson was standing near a footpath, and facing a narrow opening in the wood, about three steps away from me.

"Presently I fancied that I heard footsteps, and Mr. Samson whispered, 'Come here behind me, quietly, that they may not hear you.'

"In a short time I saw a dark shadow moving towards us. Mr. Samson stood like a lynx, stiff and motionless, with his eyes fixed on the approaching Jew.

"'Now,' thought I, 'now or never!' and I drew out a rope-noose which I had kept carefully hidden under my dolmány. The next moment I had thrown it over Mr. Samson's shoulders, and so successfully that his two arms were pinioned to his body, and he was helpless in a moment.

"'Traitor!' roared Mr. Samson, and in a moment he gave a stab backwards with his dagger in spite of his pinioned arm, and he did it so cleverly too that it went about three inches deep into me. Fortunately it struck my thigh-bone, or there would have been an end of me.

"The pain was sharp, but in spite of that I pulled the noose tighter, and then I suddenly tripped him up with my foot, and threw him down.

"'Here! here!' I cried hurriedly, holding the robber fast. 'Come here, gossip Jew; there is nothing to fear.' For when Mr. Samson roared out, his victim, the Jew, had stopped still, with his feet glued to the ground. But when I cried out that I was the king's man and had caught a thief, he came forward—in a frightened, reluctant way though; and he would not have come at all but that I called to him not to turn back, for if he did, probably before he had got away Mr. Samson's robbers would have come up, as they were lying in wait for him as well as we, and knew that he had a bag full of money."

"But what do you mean?" cried the king. "You took Mr. Samson prisoner?"

"To be sure I did," said Miska, "and I have given him up to Mr. General Rozgonyi;[7] and the Jew came along with me."

CHAPTER VI.
I AM THE KING'S PAGE!

Before setting out for Buda, he had shown his friend the Jew the secret way in and out of the castle; and as Mr. Samson had the keys of the various gates upon him, the king's soldiers would of course have no difficulty in getting in and surprising the garrison at any time. If only he had been a soldier, he might have gone with them; and even without being a soldier, he might have gone with them to act as guide, if only the king had thought of it. He had not dared to venture back after his capture of Mr. Samson, for fear he should not be allowed to get out again and give his report to the king; and now no doubt the Jew, who did not care anything at all about it, would be sent in his place. Well, it did not much matter after all, so long as Miss Esther were set free, and that the king had promised she should be.

So now Miska was in Visegrád again, not a little proud of his smart livery, and greatly enjoying his comfortable quarters after the rough, hard life which he had led. But these, after all, were very secondary matters; the great thing was that he was in the king's service, and must do all that lay in his power to please him.

"I am page to King Matthias," said he to himself over and over again. "The king called me his 'little brother' and 'gossip,' and the king will be ashamed if his gossip is a donkey and does not know the A B C. Ah, you just wait, gossip-king! for I will distinguish myself. I will make you open your eyes and your mouth too!"

Miska was a gay-tempered fellow, as lively as gunpowder, and it was vain to expect from him the sober, plodding diligence which belongs to calmer and tamer natures.

If the truth must be told, Miska did not care very greatly about his reading and writing for their own sakes. He did his best with them to please the king, but he was glad enough when his time for study was over for the day, and enjoyed the few hours he was able to spend in the riding-school much more than he did the daily appearance of his wearisome teacher, who came as true to his time as the most obstinate of fevers.

When the king's riding-master clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Michael, you are a man! 'Raven' or 'Swan' carried you well to-day, and couldn't manage to throw you," he was pleased indeed; but he was much more glad when his teacher said, "Come, Mr. Michael, I declare you are getting on like pepper! If you go on like this, I shall come to you for a lesson in a couple of months' time."

Miska could read, and write a very fair hand, before he knew where he was; but though writing rather amused him, he took no pleasure or interest in the books in which he learned to read. It always cost him a struggle to keep his temper during lesson-time, and occasionally he felt such an irresistible inclination to go to sleep, that his teacher was obliged to rouse him by a friendly twitch or two.

There were some Italian servants in the stable-yard here, very lively fellows, whose sprightliness Miska found so attractive that he was quite vexed at being shut out from their society. They were constantly laughing and in good spirits; but when Miska wanted to join in the laugh, they would say in broken Hungarian, "How could they tell all over again what it was they were laughing at so much?" "You learn Italian, mio caro, and then you can laugh with us."

"Good!" thought Miska. "If these whipper-snappers, whose mouths are always pinched up like funnels, can learn a few words of Hungarian, I'll soon learn their language. Why," reasoned Miska, "I was only a year old when I began to learn Hungarian, and they say I could talk like a magpie by the time I was two; and now—when I am eighteen, and have got a little down shading my upper lip—can't I learn Italian, when these whipper-snappers could talk it when they were three years old?"

Miska's reasoning was somewhat peculiar, but it was not altogether amiss after all. He began by asking his friends what to call the objects about him; and his good memory served him so well that in a short time he knew the names of most of the implements and different sorts of work which he had to do with.

Six months passed away; but Matthias had a good many other and more important matters to think of than the beggar lad, and he had not once been in Visegrád since Miska had been there.

"So much the better," thought Miska; "he will come some time, and then I shall know all the more. If only there were not this learning! But it is no good; it has got to be. And yet why? A little page like me is as wise as an owl if he can read and write, and what does he want with more? I can read and write too.—Hm," he thought to himself, "the man who invented writing—what the thunderbolt did he invent it for? What good could it do him? Well, it made him able to read books."

And then presently he muttered, "Donkey! If the king were to hear that now! Well, to be sure, as if there were any books when nobody could write! Then they invented it that they might write—that is more reasonable; but what is the use of writing when a man does not know how to write books?"

Miska battered his brains in vain to try to make out why it was necessary for him to learn to read, and what good his wisdom would do him.

One day the governor put a book in his hands. "Here," said he, "little brother Michael, you know how to read now, and the king's reader is ill. Suppose you were to try and get his place; it would be a fine thing for you."

"Reader!" said Miska. "Do I want his place? What should I gain by it? It would be a great deal better if I could go out hunting sometimes; my eyes see green when the horns are sounded, and here I have to be 'selling acorns.'"[8]

"That will come, too, in time, Michael," said the governor; "but now give your attention to this book. There are some very fine stories in it, and I should like, when His Highness the King comes, to have some one who can read well and intelligently to him; for His Highness says that I read like a Slovack clerk, and yet none of my family were ever Slovacks, or ever lived on kása."[9]

What was to be done? At first Michael read the book with reluctance, and merely because he was obliged to do so; but later on he became more and more interested. Presently he felt as if at last he knew what was the good of writing and reading.

When he had read the book to the end, he actually asked for another; and at last, whenever he had any spare time, he crept away and seated himself in one of the pretty arbours of the castle garden, and read as hard as if he were to be paid for it.

If Miska had been like many another lad, he would have seen pretty well the whole of his career by this time. There was nothing more to be done; for a page who can read and write, and swallows books as eagerly as a pelican does fish, already knows more than enough for his position. For these things are often rather a hindrance to his riding and other duties, and it is not his business to give an account of the books he reads, but of the work entrusted to him to do. The governor trusted all sorts of things to Miska, however.

"Eh," Miska began to think to himself, "I am not cut out for a page now. These second-rank pages are really not much better than grooms, and the governor still expects me to clean the king's two favourite horses. Why, I'm sure I know as much as Galeotti himself by this time, and I can speak Italian too."

But still the king did not come, and Miska went on learning; for ever since he had taken to reading books, his mind had begun to grow and had gone on growing, and he saw a good many things in a very different light now from what he had done formerly. Now, indeed, if the king asked him again, he could say that he should like to be something better than he was.

For a long time he went on racking his brains trying to make up his mind what he should do; and at last one day, when he had faithfully done all his duties, he sat down and wrote a letter to the king as follows:—