[16] Dracu-dragon, i.e., devil.
"Yes he has kissed it and was none the worse."
"Have you tried to get him to lay his three fingers on a copper crucifix?"
"He laid his fingers thereon and yet they were not burnt."
"Can he say the prayer of condemnation without trembling?"
"He has said it hundreds of times."
"Nevertheless, I maintain he is no mortal man."
"If he should love another woman, I swear that he will very soon find out that he is mortal."
Talking thus the riders had descended into the depths of the valley, and when the mountain stream again crossed their path they quitted the usual footpath and followed the bed of the stream. And a very good road it is for such as do not wish to leave foot-marks behind them. The rapid current swiftly fills the traces of the horses' hoofs with leaves and pebbles.
The ravine grew ever deeper and narrower, and the stream at intervals formed small cataracts which the horses, who had been trained thereto, had to cross. Finally, at a sudden declivity, the water took an unexpected leap of four yards, and when the riders reined up at this very spot, it was plain that here a mill had been built into the hillside, whose wheel it was which drove the swiftly plunging water along.
If a stranger saw this mill he would certainly say: "What foolish man the miller must be who has built his mill here," (——) and that for three reasons. Firstly, because it was so concealed beneath the thick alders that even if one sees it one cannot get at it. Secondly, because it is built exactly under the water-fall which drives the wheel as rapidly as a spindle, so that the millstone must needs be red hot beneath it. Thirdly, because the way to this mill is so peculiar, passing right through the mountain torrent and then winding down to the door by way of a foot-path hewn in the naked rock, and inaccessible to horses. Well, such a miller will surely get but little grain to grind!
When the two riders reached this spot they sprang from their horses, led them into a little dry islet formed by the alders and tied them by their halters to the branches. Then the old man lifted the sack from the saddle.
"Give me a lift up, Anicza!" said he.
One would hardly have supposed that an old fellow of such a colossal build would have required any help at all in order to get this sack across his shoulders, nor would one have supposed from the size of the sack that it would have been so heavy to lift or that it would have weighed so heavily on the old man's shoulders that he had to plant his hand firmly on his hip in order to carry the load.
Then the girl drew both pistols forth from her holsters, stuck them into her girdle, threw the long fowling-piece across her shoulder and springing fearlessly across the stream from boulder to boulder followed behind the stooping old man along the narrow foot-path which led to the mill. In the doorway of the mill stood a youth clad in the usual coarse cloth "guba" and half concealed by the door post. In one hand he held a double-barrelled musket, an implement not absolutely necessary for a miller. The old man addressed him while still a good way off:
"Che timpu?"[17]
[17] What sort of weather?
"Luna plina."[18]
[18] Full moon.
A strange sort of greeting, more like an exchange of pass-words.
Then both the new arrivals entered the mill in the midst of which a dilapidated grinding machine was revolving, the central wheel was minus a couple of teeth.
"Plenty of grinding going on, Paul?" asked the old man.
"Quite enough."
"Help me down with this sack."
"It is heavy certainly," said the other, panting beneath the strain, "how much does it hold?"
"A hundredweight and eighty pounds."
"No mere Turkish maize, eh?"
"Stop the wheel!"
The young man at once obeyed by driving an iron beam clean through the wheel which brought the machinery to a standstill. Then he raised the central revolving disc which was in connection with the millstone, hung in the hook of the millstone an iron chain which was wound round the beam and this done, laid the sack and its contents on the bolting-hutch. Then the old man himself, sat down on the hutch and extended his hand to the girl. "Jump on Anicza." And the girl jumped on without help for she was as agile as a chamois.
"Paul," said the old man to the young journeyman, "was not Fatia Negra here before us?"
"He has not been through here either to-day or yesterday. It has been my turn to watch these last two days."
"I am right you see; he is not here," said the girl.
"He is here, I tell you."
"Come Onucz," said the youth, "can Black Face make himself invisible then? He could not pass here without my knowing it!"
"What do you know about it?" answered the old man, adjusting himself on the bolting-hutch. "Let the mill go!"
As now the revolving disc or platform began to move, the machinery stood still, yet the millstone together with the bolting-hutch began slowly to sink downwards together with those sitting upon it, and after some moments, disappeared entirely into a dark gulf, the chain unwinding and rattling after it. Suddenly from the depths below resounded the old man's voice: "Halt!" Then Paul stopped the mill, hung the chain in an iron ring and the machinery once more set in motion, raised the millstone up, Paul fastened the revolving disc to it and it began to rattle round again so furiously that sparks flew out of it. Now whoever had any meal to grind might come, he was quite ready for them.
It was a huge subterraneous cavern into which Onucz and Anicza had descended. At the bottom of this hollow flowed a branch of the mountain stream which turned the mill and indeed was diverted thither by means of wooden pipes. Here, however, it flowed in its regular bed, glistening here and there in the light of two oil lamps which burnt on both sides of a small iron bridge that traversed the stream.
In the background of this hollow stood a peculiar, roofless, stone building, whose two round little windows, like the eternally watchful eyes of some underground worm, shone with a red glare which dazzled the eyes, while the slate-covered chimney belched forth a thick smoke filled with sparks into the subterranean midnight.
From the interior of the building resounded heavy thuds and the din of grinding as of machinery in perpetual motion which made the very foundations of the rocks quiver. On the bridge stood another armed man with whom the new arrivals exchanged watchwords and the same thing was done at the door of the stone building where the old man made the girl stop.
"Now Anicza," said he, "while I go in, you sit down on that stone bench and wait for me."
"Why cannot I go into the house as well?" enquired the girl, impatiently.
"No more of that. Once a year we come here and every time you ask again if you can come in, and every time I tell you that cannot be. And now I tell you once more: it cannot be—and there's an end on't."
"But why may others go in and I not?"
"Why—why! because you are a girl, of course. Leave me in peace. Women have no business in there, they are always so inquisitive, want to know everything and then blab it all out—it is their nature so."
"I'm not like that."
"And then whoever enters here has to swear a frightful oath that he will divulge nothing that he sees. I myself shudder all over when I have to repeat it; it is not fit for the mouth of a woman."
"As if I were afraid of any oath!" cried the girl defiantly. "I would say any thing that a man might say."
"Don't be a fool, Anicza. A girl cannot come in here, because everyone has to strip himself stark naked before he goes out, before the watchman, and then dress himself again. So you see it won't do."
This difficulty appeared insuperable even to the iron will of Anicza. It was a test even she could not submit to. She stamped her foot with rage and uttered again and again the word Dracu, which in Roumanian means nothing less than his highness the devil himself.
Old Onucz and the watchman thereupon laughed heartily, and the same instant the iron door of the building opened and the girl exclaimed joyfully: "Fatia Negra!"
Onucz and the watchman immediately tore their caps from their heads. It was, indeed, Fatia Negra.
How could he get hither invisibly through all the ambushes set for him? Who could tell? Who had the courage to ask him? Not even Anicza. All she thought of at that moment was to rush forward, fall upon the neck of her mysterious lover and cover his eyes and mouth, which the mask left exposed, with kisses.
"Let Anicza come in!" said the black-masked man, "I'll answer for her, and she shall, like myself, be exempted from undressing."
"It is well, Domnule,"[19] said the watchman, "but let her at least take the oath which everyone here must swear."
[19] Master.
"I am ready," cried the girl boldly.
"No, Anicza," replied Black Mask, "you shall swear to me a stronger oath even than that, you shall swear—by our eternal love."
The proud maiden, trembling with joy, fell at the feet of Fatia Negra at these words, and pressing one of her hands to her heart, raised the other aloft, and, raising her lovely eyes—which reflected the infernal glare of the windows—aloft, towards the smoking canopy above her head, she swore by her eternal love to her beloved that she would never, not even on the rack itself, betray a word, a syllable of what she was about to learn.
But old Onucz scratched his poll.
"Domnule, it is not wise of you to let women swear on such useless things. It is just as if one of us were to hold a penny in his hand and swear by that. It binds nobody."
"It is enough for me," replied the Mask, "and my head is no cheaper than yours. Let him who trusts me not keep away from here."
And holding the girl in his arms, he carried her with him into the building while old Onucz had to dress himself from head to foot in other clothes and leave those he had brought with him outside. He would have on his return to put on his own again and leave these others behind. Thus smuggling was impossible.
The first room was for the smelting.
Here there was nothing to be seen of the blazing fire which illuminated the dark hollow through the windows, in one corner of the room was a simple cylinder shaped iron furnace which radiated a burning heat, on the top of which stood a round graphite crucible covered in at the top and provided with a lateral pipe.
"Here the gold is remelted after it has come out of the purifying oven," said Fatia Negra to the girl who pressed close up to him. "Heretofore it required a whole apparatus of boilers and loads and loads of wood to bring it to smelting heat, but since I got that cylinder-stove, ten hundredweights of metal can be melted in ten minutes."
"But where does the fire come from?" enquired the girl.
"From the earth, my beloved."
The girl shrank back with horror, and yet Fatia Negra did not mean hell but that furnace whose powerful bellows drove the melting heat into the double cylinder.
He looked at his watch, the moment had come. At a single whistle a couple of workmen appeared, each of them stripped to the waist on account of the great heat; they held in their hands large iron moulds and stood facing each other opposite the crucible. Then by means of an iron tap Fatia Negra turned the pipe of the crucible and immediately a pale glare began to spread through the room—the liquid gold ran in a thin jet out of the crucible and that was the cause of the light. Actually genuine pure gold made liquid in the fire like wine in a glass and emitting on every side of it a glowing white radiance! Each of the two workmen held his mould beneath it and the girl surveyed the scene with bated breath.
When the operation was finished Black Face turned to the girl again and embraced her saying: "So you see, darling, that is how gold is melted." The girl smiled back at him; what a pity the Black Mask could not smile in return. And now old Onucz came up with his sack for the purifying furnace.
"How much have you in your sack?" asked Fatia Negra.
"A hundredweight and eighty pounds."
"Now we'll see into how much pure gold it will work out."
"The dross mixed with it is only a few pounds in weight."
"Of what quality is it?"
"Well, they purify it very incompletely you know. It is only two-and-twenty carat gold."
"It doesn't matter: we will coin Prussian ducats out of it."
"But where's the mould?"
"I brought it with me, to-day; we'll adjust that also to the machine. We shall gain a hundred florins in every thousand."
Old Onucz kissed Fatia Negra's hand. "Domnule," said he, "you are a man indeed. Domnule, since you became our chief our gains have doubled and the ducats are so good that one cannot distinguish them from the Imperial ones."
Meanwhile the girl felt her head going round to hear them talk of nothing but money, gold, gain!
"Come Onucz, let us look at the new machinery," said the Mask.
"When did you bring the new machinery here?"
"A long time ago; we have coined a great deal of money since it first came. The work is all the quicker and we need fewer men to work it."
They went into the next room through a low door, all three of them having to bow their heads as they entered, and there they saw a gigantic machine at work between whose revolving cylinders depended the long gold ingots which were gradually reduced to the proper thinness for making gold coins.
"Don't you see, Onucz? Hitherto we wasted too much time and labour in cutting the gold plates thin enough and the edges were always too thick to our great loss. Now the machine rolls them all out uniformly. It only cost 10,000 ducats."
"Very cheap indeed!" cried the old man, who was wearing a ragged sheepskin and yet considered ten thousand ducats a moderate price for a rolling mill.
The Mask took up one of the little glistening plates.
"Do you know, my friend, the name of this?" said he.
"No."
"Its name is Zain. In order that you may not forget it I will wind it round your arm." And as if it were merely hard paper he lightly bent the gold plate round the girl's wrist and then pressed the ends of this improvised bracelet together with his steel-like fingers. "Don't forget that this is called Zain and that you got it from me."
The girl looked doubtfully at him as if she would have said: "Is it lawful for you to give away everything here as if it were your own."
But the old man could not look on at this in silence. "Alas! alas! Domnule, give not away uncoined gold. Rather squander coined gold in heaps. The other is of itself a witness against us and thereby we shall furnish a clue to our enemies."
"It is in a good place," replied Fatia Negra; "it is on Anicza's arm and there it will keep silence."
Anicza replied to this apology with ten kisses. And she calculated rightly. This necklace weighed exactly ten double ducats—but the kisses also were double ones.
Then Fatia Negra led them to another machine which cut round gold pieces out of the rolled out "Zain." He showed the girl how every clipper, how every screw beneath the impulsion of the piston did its proper share of the work, and how the whole process was set going by steam power from without and could therefore be directed and controlled by one man with another man to relieve him at intervals.
"Dumnezu!"[20] sighed old Onucz, "when I think that fifty years ago we did all this with only our hammers and chisels! We sweated two whole days over a piece of work which this marvel can do in an hour. And how many hands we employed too!"
[20] My master.
Then they went to another machine. This was a small table whose steel wheels notched the ducats before they passed beneath the stamping machine. Perpetually moving elastic springs pushed the gold pieces forward one after the other, turned them round and jerked them away. You saw no other motive power but a large wheel revolving under a broad strap; the strap disappeared through the floor, it was underneath there that the man who set it in motion lived.
Old Onucz sighed aloud. "What things they do invent now-a-days," said he.
But Anicza, full of superstitious fear, clung silently to the arm of Fatia Negra whom all these speechless marvels served and obeyed. Finally, descending six stone steps they entered the actual minting room.
A gigantic screw press stood in the midst of the low vaulted chamber. Through the head of the screw was driven a long moving bar, with leaden bullets at both ends and two strong fellows were pushing this bar backwards and forwards; the weight of the machine, as it turned, forced the screw sharply down and in a second it pressed the two round gold pieces laid in the steel matrix into the stamping dies, on one of which was the image of the Mother of God and on the other the cuirassed likeness of the reigning monarch. Immediately after the two matrices recoiled again of their own accord and the two powerful men repeated the pressure. Then a little steel ring shifted suddenly, flinging aside the coined ducat, and a fresh gold piece took its place. The coined ducats already lay in a heap in front of the machine and the workmen, now and then, kicked them away with their feet.
There was something impressive in the spectacle. Here were two poor men, working hard perhaps for their daily bread with little hillocks of seductive gold piled up all around them, gold of which everyone is enamoured in the earth above them, gold for which so many men gladly give up everything, even to their hope in Heaven!
Now and again a third man comes in and pitches the gold into a linen sack with a wooden shovel.
"Let us stamp a few ducats ourselves by way of souvenirs," said Fatia Negra. Anicza assenting, the workmen stepped aside, and Fatia Negra and the girl placed themselves on either side of the leaden bullets on the turning bar.
The Mask bade his sweetheart be careful to avoid the recoil of the machine for should the handle hit her the blow might prove fatal, whereupon the girl, burning to show off her great strength, did not wait for the end of the bar to recover its normal position, but seizing the iron rod when it was only half way round, tore it back again, with the result that the steel clapper did not cast the gold piece between the matrices in the usual way and it thus received a double impression, being stamped with a two-fold figure of the Mother of God on one side and a two-fold figure of the royal profile on the other.
Old Onucz rushed towards Anicza and angrily tore her away:
"You little fool, be off!" cried he, "you will spoil the machine, it is not for the likes of you."
But Fatia Negra now picked up the ducat which had fallen to the ground and showed it with a smile to Anicza: "Look," said he, "there is now a double picture on it."
The girl turned it curiously between her fingers.
"And what will happen to it now?"
"It will go into the smelting furnace again."
"Ah, don't destroy it, give it to me!"
At this the old man fairly lost his temper.
"Are you out of your mind to ask for such a thing? What! a ducat with a flaw in it, which, if seen in your hands would saddle us with the vengeance of the whole government! Domnule, be not so mad as to let her have that ducat! If she has no sense, you at least be sensible. You might ruin the whole lot of us with it."
"Well, Anicza will not wear it on her head, I suppose, or even on her neckerchief, but will fasten it to a little bit of thread and wear it next her heart, there nobody will find it but myself."
Onucz would very much have liked to say: "Neither have you any right to look there, Domnule, for you have not yet spoken to the priest about it"—but this was the one thing he durst not say.
But Anicza gratefully kissed Fatia Negra's hand like a child who has received a gift, not indeed for the ducat, but for the boundless confidence he had shown in giving it to her, which was the surest token of his love. Then she drew forth a little Turkish dagger, bored a hole with it through the ducat and fastened it to a little piece of thin black cord by the side of her little crucifix which she wore upon her bosom—and hid both of them away again.
"Well Domnule," remarked Onucz sulkily, "since we have placed our heads in the girl's hands we must beware of ever offending her."
But now the assayer came up, bringing with him a nice elaborate calculation on a black slate, showing exactly how much pure gold Onucz had handed in to the coining department, how much it would be worth when coined and deducting three per cent for expenses, how much he was to receive in cash by way of exchange.
"And now go and let the cashier pay you what is due to you, Onucz," said Fatia Negra.
And so while he remained behind for the purpose of settling his account Anicza and Fatia Negra retired to a little adjoining chamber. There would be plenty of time for two lovers to talk over their love affairs while so many gold coins were being counted out.
"Where have you been? it's a whole month since I saw you?" asked Anicza sitting on the adventurer's knee. "Do you know how long a month is to me? First quarter, new moon, full moon, last quarter, all this have I watched through and never saw you once, where have you been?"
"I have been abroad for those new machines. That is a business one cannot entrust to another."
"Are there pretty girls abroad?—Might you not fall in love with them?"
"Hush! Those are not the questions that men should be asked."
"Why not?"
"Because men are not in the habit of answering them."
"But suppose a girl wants to know?"
"Then it will go badly with her. Besides, what do you want me to tell you? Would you like to know that I'm such a block, a clod, that no other eye but yours takes any pleasure in looking at me? Or would you like to hear that I am a sort of hermit who has wandered in disguise through seven kingdoms and casts down his eyes whenever he encounters a petticoat? Or that I cross myself and turn away whenever a woman looks at me? Or shall I tell you: in such and such a place I nipped the white cheeks of a pretty blonde, and in such and such a place the coquettrie of a pair of blue eyes made me forget myself, and in such another place I bedded my intoxicated head in the arms of a brunette?—and that after wandering through seven kingdoms I have found no lovelier girl than my own enchanting Anicza?"
The girl could neither reply nor scold, for her mouth was closed fast with kisses.
"You know I am very jealous," she said at last, when she was able to tear herself free. "I do not love as others love. I can only think of you and your love. I am neither hungry nor thirsty but only—in love. I am never weary, I scarcely know that I am working, for love makes me sing and sing all day. I dream only of you. I care not what is going on in the whole world so long as I only know what is happening to you. I know that you love me and that you are mine so long as you are here. But how often you are far away! How often I do not see you for weeks, for months at a time! Then I get nearly mad. I am determined to find out where you are and what you are doing, with whom you are speaking and then I say, I feel quite mad."
"Indeed! Then let me tell you, my dear girl, that it would do you no good to know where I am, for I am much more exposed to the fire of pointed rifles than to the fire of pretty eyes."
"Are you then a robber chieftain, a mountain smuggler?"
"I am a lot of things."
"Then take me with you into your band"—she spoke with heaving bosom.
But Fatia Negra stamped his foot.
"It cannot be, Anicza," said he; "think no more of it! I will never take you with me."
"Why not?" asked the girl and her eyes flashed like a wild cat's.
"Because then I should become jealous of you and that would be bad for us both. Remain in your father's house; there you are safe."
The girl drew from her bosom the defaced ducat she had just received together with the crucifix.
"Hearken, Fatia Negra! my father says that this badly coined piece of gold places your life in my hand. And know, besides, Fatia Negra, that I have sworn on this Crucified One here that if ever you betray me I will kill you in my fury without thinking twice about the how or where. It is not well that two such dangerous objects should repose on my heart. Look! I give them both to you."
"Wherefore, Anicza?"
"Take the things, I say, and keep them, for my guardian angel knows, I have told him, that with me they are not in a safe place. You do not know me yet."
The girl burst out crying, and Fatia Negra could no longer soothe her with kisses, and then old Onucz poked his gray shaggy head through the doorway and said: "I have been paid already, Domnule, have you?"
Fatia Negra stroked the girl's hair and face and whispered her not to take on so.
The stitches of the old Roumanian's patience now, at last, gave way altogether. "Domnule," said he, "would you not, if I earnestly besought you to do so, begin to think of the day on which you intend to become my daughter's husband?"
For a moment Fatia Negra seemed thunderstruck; then he recovered himself and replied in a calm but menacing voice: "If ever it occurs to you to put the question to me again, your head will reach home an hour earlier than yourself."
The old man made no reply, but he seized the girl by the hand and led her away with him, returning to the mill with her by the same way that he had come. They found their horses by the alder trees and remounted. It was a fine clear night, and Onucz told his daughter to ride in front. They had now divided the coined gold into two portions. When they had once more reached the ridge of the mountain the old man pronounced Anicza's name in a low tone. The girl looked, backwards and perceived that the old man's long-barrelled rifle was pointed directly at the back of her head. In her terror she covered her face with her hands. "What would you do?" cried she.
"Fear nothing, I only want that piece of gold which Fatia Negra gave you. I'll not stake my head on your whimsies!"
The girl had anticipated something much worse than this, so she quietly answered: "You can spare yourself the trouble, I have already returned it to Fatia Negra. I would not carry it about with me any longer."
"You have acted wisely," said the old man, lowering his musket. "Now you can ride on."
The early dawn was breaking as they reached home. When Anicza entered her room she found hanging up beneath the ikon that gleamed and shone over her bed both the damaged ducat and the little cross which she had given to Fatia Negra two hours before. He must indeed be in league with the devil—else how could he have got there, invisibly, so long before them?
Anicza said not a word about it to anybody, but she hid both the amulets safely away in her bosom again—and now she was right proud of her Fatia Negra!
CHAPTER VIII
STRONG JUON
Henrietta's married life was not a happy one. Her husband was polite, complaisant, and conventionally correct in his behaviour towards her, and that was all. And then she saw so little of him. He was frequently absent from Hidvár for weeks at a time, and when he returned he regularly brought in his train a merry company of comrades, in whose pastimes Henrietta could take no sort of pleasure.
During those long days when she had Hidvár all to herself and was left entirely to the company of her sad thoughts, she would sometimes walk about till late in the evening in the shady alleys of the home park, listening to the songs of the girls working in the fields. At the end of the park was a church, and in front of it a small clearing fenced around with stakes and looking like a cabbage garden. It surely belonged to some poor man or other. It did—and the poor man was the parish-priest.
Henrietta often saw him, a tall, grey-bearded man in a long black cassock, hastening to his little garden; there the reverend gentleman would divest himself of his long habit, produce a rake, and work till late in the evening. Henrietta fancied at first that was merely a dietetic diversion, but afterwards, when she found him there the next day and the day after that, and at every hour of the day; when she saw him wiping the sweat from his brow in the burning afternoons and leaning wearily at intervals on his rake to rest a while from his labour, then she was persuaded that this work was not a pastime, but a bitter toil for daily bread.
Often times she would very much have liked to ask him how this was, but she was a stranger in these parts and did not understand his language; at last, however, the priest, perceiving the lady one day, peered at her through the palings and wished her good-day in the purest Hungarian, thereby giving her to understand that the language of the gentry was well known to him.
Henrietta begged the old man to leave his labour and come to her.
"It cannot be, your ladyship; his lordship has forbidden me to appear in his courts."
"Why?"
"I am always a nuisance."
"How so?"
"Because I am always on some begging errand. At one time the wind carries off the roof of the church; at another, something is broken in the belfry. It is a year ago now since the school was burnt down, and since then the walls have become overgrown with thistles; the schoolmaster too has gone away, and there is nobody to teach the children, so that they grow up louts and robbers, to the great hurt and harm of the gentry."
"But why is not all this put to rights?"
"Because the poor folks are lazy and drunken, and his lordship is stingy."
Henrietta was astonished at the old man's words.
"Yes, stingy, that's the word," continued the priest. "I do not pick my words, for I am a priest and used to hunger. And he who is used to hunger is free from the yoke of servility. I told his lordship that to his face, and that was why he forbade me the castle."
Henrietta could not continue the conversation, so upset was she at the idea of Hátszegi's stinginess. What! the man who raked in hundreds of thousands at a time with the greatest ease, and no doubt scattered them as recklessly, could shut his door in the face of a poor priest who begged for the house of God and the education of the people! She hastily wished the priest good-night and returned to the castle.
The same evening she sought her husband, who had just come home wearied from the chase, "I have a favour to ask of you," said she. Hátszegi looked astonished: it was the first favour the wife had ever asked her husband.
"Command me!" said he. "Whatever you like to ask is as good as granted already."
"I should like to learn the language of the people in the midst of whom we dwell. I am like a deaf-mute among them at present."
"That will not be difficult. The Wallachian tongue is easily acquired, especially by anyone with a knowledge of French or Latin."
Henrietta blushed scarlet. Was there a covert allusion behind these words? Did Hátszegi know that she understood Latin?
"I should like to have a master who can put me in the way of it. The parish priest here would be a suitable person."
For an instant Hátszegi's eyebrows contracted.
"You shall have your way," he said at last. "It is true that he is the one man in the world who insults me to my face with impunity whenever he meets me, and even presumes to chalk upon the walls of my own castle denunciations against me from the book of the Prophet Nehemiah, so that I was obliged to forbid him ever to appear before me under pain of being thrown headlong out of the window; yet to show you what an obedient servant I am of yours, madame, I will not baulk you of your desire, or desire you to choose another master, but will send and invite him to come up here at once. Everyone shall see that in my house, my wife is the master." And with that Leonard kissed his wife's hand and withdrew.
Early next day the pastor arrived. Margari informed him of her ladyship's desire to learn the Roumanian language, and the words almost stuck in his throat when he added that his Reverence would receive a hundred florins every month for it. Fancy! a hundred florins a month for teaching a lingo only spoken by bumpkins.
Todor Rubán—that was the priest's name—was at once conducted to her ladyship. He was an elderly man, of an open, cheerful countenance; his fine, long white hair fell in thick locks on his simple black cassock, which showed considerable signs of wear.
Henrietta was not in time to prevent the old pastor from kissing her hand.
"This is no slavish obsequiousness towards a great lady," said he, "but the respect of a poor pastor for an angel whom Heaven by a peculiar act of grace has sent down to us. This is no empty compliment, your ladyship. I am not very lavish of such things myself, but I feel bound to address you thus because I am well aware that it is not merely to learn our poor language that you pay me so well for so little trouble. No, I recognize herein the good will which would do what it can to raise and help a poor neglected population: for I certainly shall not exchange my simple maize-bread for better, but will employ your ladyship's gift in the service of God and of our poorer brethren."
From that day Henrietta believed that a call from on high had summoned her to Hidvár to be the guardian angel, the visible providence of a poor, forsaken people, and her most pleasant occupation was now to go from village to village,—often in the company of the priest, and at other times accompanied by a single groom or quite alone. Thus she visited one after the other all the surrounding parishes like any archdeacon, enquiring after and helping their necessities, distributing money for school-buildings and service books, collecting all manner of stray orphans and bringing them home with her to be fed and instructed; nay she erected a regular foundling hospital at Hidvár for the benefit of the sprouting urchins of the district, and had the liveliest debates with the priest as to the best method of managing it. Her benevolent enthusiasm cost Hátszegi a pretty penny.
"She is a child; let her play!" he would only say when Margari and Clementina represented to him that Henrietta had pawned her jewels at Fehervár in order to teach some more little Roumanian rag-a-muffins how to go about with gloves on like their betters. Nay the baron secretly instructed the tradesmen with whom Henrietta had pawned her jewels to advance her four times as much as they were worth, he would make it good again, he said—and then he would buy his wife fresh jewels. An admirable husband, truly!
One day, Henrietta had ridden out to the neighbouring Ravacsel in order to visit a poor Wallachian peasant woman, to whom she had sent some medicine a few days before. The woman, naturally, never drank the medicine, but instead of that got a village quack to rub her stomach with some wonder-working salve so vigorously that the poor patient died in consequence; in fact she was already at the last gasp when Henrietta arrived. Henrietta was beside herself with grief and anger. She felt like a doctor whose prescriptions have been interfered with by a competitor. She could not indeed help the woman, who expired soon after her arrival, but she had at least the satisfaction of making arrangements for a decent funeral. In the meantime it had grown so late that when she turned back toward Hidvár the moon was already pretty high in the heavens.
She was alone on horseback, for it was only a two hours' journey between the two places, and she had therefore not thought it worth while to bring an escort with her. Besides, whom had she to fear? Since she had lived in these parts, all the bad men had disappeared, and whoever she might meet in the roads or lanes would be ready to kiss her hand.
So she turned homewards again alone. The road wound in and out among the valleys and was therefore much longer than if it had gone in a straight direction across the mountains. She had, however, often heard from the peasants that there was a shorter way to Hidvár from Ravacsel on which mules and ponies could go, and she thought it better to look for this road lest night should surprise her among the mountains. But a road that is good enough for mules and ponies may not suit a thoroughbred English steed which does not care about putting its hoofs into the tracks of other beasts; and besides, a hundred paces on level ground is much shorter than twenty-five up hill. Henrietta vividly experienced the truth of this when she reached the summit of the hill, for her horse was sweating from every pore and trembling from the violent exertion. Such horses should not be used in hilly country: a shaggy, sturdy little pony would have treated the whole thing as a joke and not said a word about it.
But the real difficulties of the road only began during the descent, which was equally dangerous for horse and rider. The track, a mere channel washed out of the soft sandstone by the mountain torrents, descended abruptly, the stones giving way beneath the horse's hoofs and plunging after it. Frequently they had to cross very awkward places, and Henrietta could see from the way in which her horse pricked up his ears, snorted and shook his head, that he was as frightened as his mistress.
At last they came to a very bad spot indeed, where on one side of the road there was a sheer abyss, while the rocky mountain side rose perpendicularly on the other. The narrow path here ran so close to the rock that the rider had to bend her head aside so as not to knock it, and the horse could only go forward one foot at a time.
For an instant the horse stood still, as if weighing his chances on that narrow path; but, as there was no turning back now, he was obliged at last to go on.
Henrietta looked shudderingly down into the chasm below her, over which she seemed to hang suspended; and she thought to herself, with something very like a sob: what if we should stumble now!
The thought was scarcely in her mind when one of the horse's hind legs tripped, and the same instant horse and rider were precipitated into the abyss.
Henrietta never lost her head during the fall. She noticed everything that happened during the brief plunge, how the horse struggling desperately clattered down the mountain-side, how the saddle girth burst beneath the strain, how for a mere second some bush or shrub arrested the descent, and how the next instant the weight of the horse tore it down along with him. Finally, falling still lower and turning right round on its back the horse got wedged in between two rocks from which position he was fortunately unable to disengage himself, for had he fallen any further he would have been dashed to pieces.
Henrietta was quite conscious the whole time. Holding on with both hands to the roots of a bush with her left leg still in the stirrup (for saddle and stirrup also remained hanging in the bush) it occurred to her in this painful situation that she still had time to commend her soul to God and then face death more calmly. As to help, there was no hope of it, for the place was far away from all human dwellings; night would soon fall and the bush would presently yield beneath her feet—destruction was certain.
But while the lady neglected to call for assistance, the wedged-in horse did so all the more loudly. Supine and unable to free himself from his uncomfortable position, he repeatedly uttered that terrified scream which one never hears from this noble and reticent beast except in dire extremity. Whoever has heard such a cry will readily admit that it is far more terrible than any merely human appeal for assistance.
After a few moments it seemed to Henrietta as if a halloo were resounding from the depths below; looking down she perceived by the light of the moon a black shape leaping from rock to rock like a chamois, and gradually approaching the dangerous point where she hung.
Any efforts on this man's part seemed to her impossible. There was not a single visible gap or crevice in the face of the steep rock by means of which he could scramble up to her; and how could he help her, how could he liberate her, if he did manage to get at her?
Nevertheless the man drew nearer and nearer. She could by this time make out his goatskin cloak, his high broad cap, the clean shaved face peculiar to the mountain goatherds. His dexterity was as astonishing as the physical strength, with which he often raised himself on the tips of his toes in order to reach a cleft in the rocks, scarcely visible high above his head; often he could scarce hold on by the tips of his fingers, yet the next moment he would swing himself up with half a hand and, setting his foot in the cleft, look about for a fresh foothold.
About a yard below Henrietta was a projecting piece of rock just large enough for a man's foot to stand upon. The next moment Henrietta saw the herdsman mount to this place. He himself was a good fathom in height and his head reached up as far as Henrietta's hips. He looked up at her with a friendly smile, as if he had merely come there to help her down from her horse. Then he said to her in Roumanian: "Noroc bun Domna!" which means "Good luck to you, my lady!" So even in this perilous situation it occurred to him to say something pleasant.
"The horse took a false step, my lady," said he, "but all's well that ends well. Prithee, mount upon my shoulder, this bush will not hold fast much longer, it is only a juniper, its roots are weak." Henrietta's heart failed her. This man surely does not imagine that he will be able to carry her down on his shoulders.
"Come, my lady, don't be afraid, I can easily carry you down. Why I often roam about like this after my kids when they fall into the precipice; and you are no heavier than a young kid, I'm sure."
And then, with the hand that remained free, he plucked at the remainder of the damaged bush. Henrietta perceived with astonishment that the roots which had not snapped asunder beneath his weight were loosened from the rock by the mere tug of the man's hand. But what was he going to do with them?
The herdsman bade the lady fear nothing; no further accident could happen, he said; then, sticking the torn out stump between his legs like a hobby-horse and pressing it against the rock with one hand, he himself turned his back to the mountain-side and suddenly, stretching his legs wide apart, let himself glide down the shelving rock.
Henrietta shrieked aloud, she thought she was lost, but the next moment the herdsman stood on solid ground and looked up at her with a smile: "We're all right, you see," he cried. "Oh, I have travelled like this many a time; it is rare fun,—sledging I call it."
Sledging indeed!—to plunge down a steep mountain side five fathoms deep with the aid of a juniper bush!
From where they now stood it was an easy matter to convey the lady to the bottom of the precipice, which was overgrown with bright grass, on which he deposited her.
"There you are, my lady," said he. "Don't be frightened; I will soon be back again."
And with that he scrambled up again towards the wedged-in horse. Henrietta gazed after him in amazement—whatever was he going to do there?
The fellow, on reaching the wriggling horse, first of all caught firm hold of its front legs and then tied all four legs tightly together with the stirrup-straps. Thereupon, he seized the beast by his fettered legs, pulled them over his shoulders, and with a violent jerk freed the animal from its uncomfortable position and carried it down into the valley likewise. There he untied its legs, helped it on to its hoofs again, and, turning with a smile to Henrietta, said: "A fine horse that; it would have been a shame to have let it come to grief!"
"And you were able to carry it on your shoulders?" gasped Henrietta.
"That isn't very much. It scarce weighs more than four hundredweight. The bear not long ago weighed five, and I had to beat it to death before I could take it home. Surely your ladyship knows that I am the strong Juon—Juon Tare?" And the goatherd said this with as much self-evident pride, as if everyone in the wide world had heard that strong Juon dwelt among these forests. Henrietta's look of surprise apprised him, however, that she, at least, had never heard of him.
"You do not know then, Domna, who I am? Yet I know who you are. I have often met the Dumnye Barbatu[21] and he knows me well. He is the only man in the world who is as strong as I am. We have often wrestled together on this grass-plot for a wager. Neither of us has ever been able to throw the other. His lordship can throw an axe deeper into a tree than I can, but I can put a greater weight. His lordship can kill an ox with a blow from his fist, but I can throttle a bear to death. But we cannot overcome each other, though we have often stood up together—only in joke, only in sport, of course, your ladyship. It would not be well if we encountered each other in our wrath—that would be terrible."