[30] Good night.
"Well said!" cried old Onucz, "that is as I would have it also. The whole lot of us who are partners in the concern will meet once more in the Lucsia cavern. There we will listen to what you say and swear to each other that we will not say a word of what has gone on down below there. Then everyone will do as you bid, for you are the most prudent of us all."
"Then I shall only have to wait another week?" enquired Anicza, winding the locks of Fatia Negra round her fingers.
"For what?" asked the adventurer.
"Nay, but surely you know?"
"Aha! of course!" said he smiling. "You mean you will only have to wait another week for me to cease to be your husband under a mask and become your real, true husband, eh? That is the end of all your thoughts, eh?"
"Yes, yes!" said the girl, but she thought within herself: "I shall only have to wait a week to give up your masked head into the hands of the hangman!"
So Fatia Negra unsuspiciously rocked the girl up and down on his knee and reflected complacently: "Girls are made in order that they may believe the lies which men choose to tell them."
But Anicza was a Wallachian girl and Wallachian girls are jealous, revengeful and artful.
That Saturday had arrived.
Seven hundred torches lit up the Lucsia Grotto. In between, from out of the corners of the cavern Bengal lights burst forth from time to time flooding for a few moments the whole of that gloomy palace with green, blue, white and rose-coloured flames to which the red flame of the pitch-torches with their black smoke formed a spectral contrast.
The great company of coiners had arranged for the last evening before their separation a sumptuous feast in this subterranean hall. The floor was strewn with white sand and all round about tents were erected in which roast and baked meats were piled up into veritable hillocks on broad beech-wood dishes. In order to show the wealth at their command an ox was roasting whole on a flaming fire, revolving as it roasted, while two men, one on each side, basted it well with bacon fat held on iron forks. Close behind it was a gigantic vat of wine, everybody was free to drink out of it as much as he chose. Right in front of the smithy, too, was another gigantic vat holding about fifty firkins, filled to the brim with the finest eau de vié. A couple of young fellows lolled in front of the vat; they were already too lazy to dip their glasses into the fluid, they sucked it in from the brim of the vat itself.
The glare of the smelting oven no longer shone from the windows of the stone building in the midst of the cavern, the smoke intermingled with sparks no longer welled out of the flue, the subterranean hubbub no longer accompanied the stroke of the hammers, the machinery was silent, its work was done.
Two hundred and fifty thousand coined ducats await distribution; of these, fifty thousand belong to Fatia Negra and twenty thousand to old Onucz.
The smithy to-day is adorned with green twigs and bright ribbons, and on its massive chimneys all the requisites for a pyrotechnical display have been heaped up; it is from these that the rockets will ascend, it is here the blue and red Catherine wheels will revolve. The vaulted ceiling of the cavern is so high that the rockets in their highest flight will not graze it. An orchestral-like balustrade has been provided for the musicians. The shareholders themselves will do their best to enliven the festivities with fiddles, flutes and bagpipes. The guests are already appearing, singly and in groups, down through the machinery of the mill. The men are all accompanied by their womenkind in gala costumes.
Before the appearance of Fatia Negra, mirth and uproar have full swing. Everyone gives free course to his jollity till the chief comes whose black mask is sufficient to quiet everyone's good humour.
And to-day brings with it its own peculiar festivity. After the great distribution of money, Fatia Negra will take the daughter of Onucz by the hand and plight his troth to her in front of a crucifix placed on a high pedestal. The oath of betrothal will be an invention of Fatia Negra himself, filled with well assorted curses and promises. And he will swear to regard Anicza as his lawful bride from this day forth until such time as he can, without any mask or disguise, conduct her before a priest and solemnize his wedding in another place and before other people. For a long time this ceremony has been the pet idea of old Onucz and now Fatia Negra has agreed to it.
Gradually all the partners have assembled in the cavern. Amongst the last to arrive are old Onucz and his daughter with the bridesmaids. Anicza is dressed as usual with her girdle and embroidered bodice and a round hat on her head. The only difference is that now she sparkles all over with gold and jewels and her pig-tail is interwoven with real pearls. Amongst all the picked beauties who have gathered together here, she is still the most beautiful.
Only the bridegroom still keeps the good folks waiting. He is a long time coming, as becomes a great man. Nay, it is quite possible he may be there already without anyone seeing him. Perchance he is walking along there behind the bride in an invisible mantle and only when he throws it off, then only and not till then will the people see him.
Anicza screams aloud—perhaps with joy! Everyone is thunderstruck; they imagine their leader must be in league with the devil himself, for he comes up from out of the earth!
And with what splendour does he ascend! The purple robe that he wears is scarce discernible for gold lace; a long embroidered mantle, like the mantle of a prince, floats down from his shoulders and on his head he wears a golden helmet from which the mask depends.
The top of this helmet is set all round about with diamonds, and one of his comrades makes the remark that the spike of this helmet is somewhat muddy. He wore no weapon by his side, not even a dagger. Naturally,—one generally lays aside one's arms when one is about to swear solemnly before an altar. Onucz approached him obsequiously and kissed the hand of his mysterious leader with profound respect, whilst Anicza approached him with roguish archness, adroitly feigning a superstitious fear of her magician of a sweetheart.
"I am not afraid of you, Fatia Negra! though you come and go unseen. I fear you come not in God's name."
"That is true. We are nearer methinks to the Kingdom of the Devil."
"Hush! say not so!"
"Why not? If these men had imagined that I came down from Heaven, they would have betrayed me long ago. They would have carried me bound to Fehervár; but because they fancy I came from below and am acquainted with the devil, they fear me and are faithful. It is the same with you: you love me because you fear me."
"Ho, ho, ho! We shall see. I fear nobody, not even you. It was a joke when I said just now: I am afraid. You did not see that."
"Come now, I'll put you to the test at once. You see that crucifix on the altar? On that we will swear fidelity to each other and everyone here present will also swear to preserve eternal secrecy. As, however, we coiners cannot call God to witness, for by our trade we have rejected him, our oaths cannot ascend to Heaven but must descend elsewhere. In order then that our oath may be effectual, go if you have the courage, turn the crucifix and return it to its place—only upside down."
For an instant the girl grew pale and trembled, then she advanced boldly up to the altar, seized the crucifix and lifting it up, turned it round and thrust it upside down into a hole that happened to be on the altar, so that its pedestal stood up in the air.
All who were present looked on with wonder and horror.
As the girl raised the cross and put it down again reverse ways, a mechanical involuntary jolting motion of her arms was discernible, though her face betrayed nothing. An electrical machine hidden beneath the altar was the cause of this shock.
"Well?" enquired Fatia Negra as she returned to her place.
"The crucifix struck me when I seized it, and struck me again when I put it down," whispered the girl; and as she said these words she was very pale.
"And yet you did what I told you," said Fatia Negra, placing his hand on Anicza's shoulder. "You are a brave girl, and worthy of me."
"Comrades!" the leader of the adventurers now cried with a thundrous voice, "come and listen to me!"
Everyone thereupon abandoned his booth, his table or his diversion and stood in a circle round Black Mask.
"Ye know," he began, "the name of that place which is under the earth! Its name is the grave. Ye are all of you at this moment in the grave with me and if I wish it, dead men. Whoever would see once more the bright sunlight of the upper world where dawn is now breaking, he must swear that he will never at any time, drunk or sober, tell to any man what has happened, what he has seen or heard in this underground tomb, but will regard it all as a dream which he has forgotten on awakening. Swear this with me in this hour! I myself will first of all repeat the oath and ye must say whether ye are content therewith or not."
Thereupon he approached the altar whose basement formed the glass isolating "island" which all of us who have ever seen an electrical machine know so well. The electric machine itself, a battery of Leyden jars was hidden under the altar and connected by a piece of clockwork with that opening covered with metal in which the crucifix had been planted.
Black Mask stood silently for a moment on the basement of the altar after removing his helmet from his head, and those who stood nearest were horrified to observe that single hairs of his long flowing mane of hair rose slowly and remained stiffly suspended in the air. There was a deep silence, the silence that prevails under the earth—among the Dead.
And now Fatia Negra began to recite the words of the oath in a solemn ghostly voice: "I, the bearer of the Black Mask, Fatia Negra, as they call me, swear in the subterranean midnight by the living fire which falling like rain reduced Sodom and Gomorrah to ashes; by the flood which killed all the dwellers upon earth; by the gaping gulf which swallowed up the traitorous bands of Dathan and Abiram; by the spirit which announced the death of King Saul; by the Angel Lucifer who by reason of his rebellion was cast down from Heaven; by the angel Malach Hamovesh who carries in his hands the sword of violent death; by the twelve plagues of Egypt with which Moses visited the land of the Pharaohs; by all these things and by the star under which I was born do I swear secresy—and may I perish in fire and water, may I be buried alive in the bowels of the earth, may I become a pillar of salt, may the wild beast of the forest tear me to pieces, may my own weapon turn against me in the evil hour, may I be terrified by midnight spectres and hag-ridden, may my body be smitten with leprosy, my eyes with blindness, my tongue with dumbness, my bones by rottenness, if ever I speak one syllable to anybody, be it priest, or child, or father, or condemning judge, or threatening headsman, of anything I have seen, heard or learnt in this place, or write it down with my hand or put anybody on the track of it! May every drop of my blood become curse-laden; may my remotest posterity anathematize me; may I awake in my grave and go about again as a spectre, if ever I act in anyway contrary to what I now swear! May all those who are under the earth and above the earth be the witnesses of this my oath!"
This drastic formula satisfied everybody. In those parts the people much prefer such unmeaning self-objurgation to our legal oaths as taken in the presence of the judges and they are considered a hundred times more binding. Meanwhile numerous single hairs had seemed to detach themselves from Black Mask's long locks and now stood upright all around his head like some spectral crown. Those who stood around regarded him with deep horror. Many believed that a supernatural marvellous power was in his words; only the girl did not believe in him at all.
In order to increase still further this terrified respect the adventurer beckoned towards him the old men of the assembly.
"Come hither, that ye may see for yourselves how well acquainted with the words of the oath are those in that other place where knowledge needs must be; stretch out your hands towards me, touch me with the tips of your fingers and ye will discover there is something else present here besides yourselves."
Old Onucz tremblingly stretched out his hand in the direction of Fatia Negra and the next moment collapsed with fear when he perceived sparks crackle forth from his leader's garments which burnt his finger tips. More than one elder was afraid at first to put out his hand till curiosity made him venture everything. Several wanted to convince themselves personally of this miracle, which they could not credit from the hearsay of others and the juggler himself encouraged those standing near him to touch him wherever they chose and fire would spring from his body. Sparks sometimes leaped forth from his neck and sometimes from the tips of his ears and everyone was persuaded that the curse had already made its way into every drop of his blood.
Anicza alone did not draw near him.
"Are you afraid of me, then?" enquired the imposter.
"No."
"Come and kiss me then!"
Anicza approached and allowed herself to be kissed.
Immediately afterwards a shudder ran through her.
"Well? What did you feel?"
"Your mouth burnt my mouth," replied the girl, and Fatia Negra happening to look aside just then, she furtively crossed herself.
Fatia Negra was completely satisfied with the success of this comedy. Their awe of the mysterious and the unintelligible had made his comrades his slaves; he need have no more scruples concerning them.
"Give me your right hand, Anicza," said he, "and give your other hand to your next neighbour, and let everyone take the hand of the person next to him."
Thus he made them form a long chain, the extreme end of which was brought up by old Onucz in whose hand he placed a slender conducting rod which hung down from the altar. Then he recited the fantastic oath before them all once more, whilst they repeated every syllable of it after him. The comedy was concluded by a violent electric shock which instantly sent a spasm of pain through the muscles and sinews of every member of the living chain. The poor untaught creatures all imagined that the devil himself was flying through their limbs and with tears and groans they begged Black Mask not to put them to any further test.
"And now, Fatia Negra," said old Onucz respectfully, "the moment has come in which you also must keep your word. Will you really take my daughter to wife?"
"I will not see the light of day again until I have done so."
"Will you swear to be her husband in the way you promised to swear?"
"You shall hear me."
"Then have I something else to say to you. Over there, as you see, stands the great weighing machine, in one of the scales I will place Anicza and in the other as many piles of ducats as will make her kick the beam. I will give my girl as many gold ducats as she weighs."
Thereupon the two bridesmen produced a large wooden platter, placed the bride on it, raised it high in the air and carried it to the huge weighing machine. Onucz bade them place both bride and platter in the scale that it might weigh the heavier. Then they piled up into the other scale as many of the sacks of ducats sealed with the seal of Onucz as were necessary to establish an absolute equipoise between the two scales, and then while both the girl and the gold, balancing each other were floating in the air, old Onucz, his face beaming with triumph, poked Fatia Negra in the side with his elbows and said: "And now all that is yours."
The adventurer rushed to the weighing-machine, not indeed to the scale on which the gold was, but to where the girl stood and lifted her down on his arm as if she were a child. The other scale, losing its balance, rushed earthwards and the sacks filled with gold ducats toppled off it left and right.
At this the company was delighted. Fatia Negra's manly tenderness was appreciated by everyone and old Onucz, radiant with joy, turned towards his cronies: "You see it is not my money but my daughter that he is after!"
And yet if Fatia Negra had only been able to foresee what was about to happen the next instant, if only he had been able to guess what would happen during the first few moments of the first approaching quarter of an hour, could he but have heard one step, one bump which might have told him what was going on just then above his head, instead of extending his hands towards the girl, he would have done much more wisely if he had grasped in each hand one of the sacks lying on the other scale and made off with it somewhere through that dark corridor which nobody knew of but he himself, under the special protection of the devil. Just now, however, the devil was evidently not looking after him as carefully as usual, for he returned to the altar with the girl in his arms and deposited his load on the altar steps. The girl knelt down.
"Strew over her corn moistened with honey!" whispered old Onucz to the bridesmaids;—he considered this old custom as of the highest importance. Possibly it was a symbol of fruitfulness.
Anicza wanted Fatia Negra to bend down to her. She had something to whisper in his ear. He leant over her as she desired, drew her pretty face close up to his, and the girl timidly whispered:
"Are you going to take me away under the earth?"
"Are you afraid I shall do so?"
"With you I will go wherever you choose and will fear nothing."
"I take you at your word."
"I don't care. Whither lies the way, to the right or to the left?"
"To the left. Everything which brings luck must be done lefthandedly."
"Is the door underneath the coining-shop?" asked the girl carelessly.
"Yes, if you must know."
"I am ready. Say the oath that I may hear it!"
Fatia Negra repeated his hocus-pocus, kneeling down beside Anicza on the steps of the altar, and raising his eyes towards the black vault of the cavern as he recited the words of a new oath, which kept all the listeners spellbound, so full it was of grisly images and hellish fancies. So deep indeed was the general attention that nobody observed in the meantime that, in the dark background formed by the distant walls of the cavern, a multitude of strange faces were popping up. First two men descended through the machinery of the mill and then two others until, gradually, a hundred of them had assembled. They were all armed and dressed in uniform, but their arms were concealed beneath their mantles, that they might not glimmer through the darkness. And then they quietly formed into ranks like supernumeraries on the stage of a theatre whilst the chief comedian is ending his monologue in front of the footlights. Only Anicza had observed them. During the whole course of the oath, she had not once looked at Fatia Negra's cursing lips, but at the groups forming in the darkness above his head.
The oath over, Fatia Negra seized the reversed crucifix and an electric shock again jolted the hand of the girl which he held fast in his own right hand. "Now, you swear it also!" cried he.
The only reply the girl gave was to passionately tear her hand out of the adventurer's. Rising from her knees, and with her handsome face full of rage, scorn and hatred, she turned upon him, who knelt at her feet, gnashing her pearly teeth as she spoke: "Wretched play-actor! masked imposter! You have deceived everybody, but nobody so much as me. Do you remember that night in the ice valley and how shamefully you betrayed me there? Know then that I was present in that hut, that it was I who blew the horn and brought back the jealous husband from the forest. I saw the tussle that followed and I swore, there and then, that I would be your ruin. Just now you swore that if ever you betrayed me, thus might you yourself be betrayed by whomsoever you trusted most. You said: 'Let water pursue; let fire seize me, let the axe of the headsman descend upon me and the dogs drink up my blood!' Be it so, then—here is fire in front of you and water behind you and the headsman's sword above your head! The dogs that are to lick your blood are already barking for it. I have betrayed you. Look behind you!"
The armed band of soldiers, moving forward in line, like a piece of machinery, suddenly disclosed a row of bayonets glittering in the light of the torches. "We are lost!" howled the mob, whilst the voice of the officer in command (it had a strong foreign accent), rose above the din: "Down with your arms! no resistance!"
Onucz rushed roaring towards his sacks of ducats, the women scattered screaming among the tents. For an instant Fatia Negra stood petrified before Anicza, like a devil caught in a trap, and gazed vacantly at the girl's flaming face.
Anicza now turned quickly towards the armed soldiers and cried with a piercing voice: "Hasten Juon Tare! Seize the smelting-oven entrance, else this devil will still escape us!"
That was why she wanted to know from Fatia Negra which way they would go underground.
At these words, however, the adventurer recovered himself. He saw a pitiless enemy and a troop of armed men hastening to the door of the smelting-furnace and that way of refuge was consequently closed. The same instant an infernal idea occurred to him.
Hastily snatching up a burning torch from the altar with a couple of vigorous bounds he approached the smelting-furnace. Twenty bayonets and a long axe in the hands of Juon Tare were raised against him—and he was unarmed.
But it was not to the door he wished to get. With a spring sideways he reached the huge vat filled with brandy, threw the burning torch down in front of it and placing his muscular shoulders against the vat, with a desperate exertion of strength scattered its contents on to the floor of the cavern from end to end.
In an instant the whole cavern was in flames!
The floor was of stone so that it could not absorb the spirit as it leaked out and it flashed up as it caught the flame of the torch close at hand. It spread rapidly like a lake of fire that has burst its dams.
The blue spirit-flame filled the whole of the empty cavern with a pale, ghastly glare, the air, the empty space itself seemed to burst into flame. Hundreds of torches, burnt down to their very roots, flickered luridly in the midst of this blue fire of hell, and the heaped-up fire works,—the Bengali pyramids and the rockets and crackers—flamed, fizzled and banged about in the midst of the terrible heat. And in the thick of this infernal blaze black figures, like the souls of the Accursed, were running frantically about, howling, shrieking and toppling over one another and seeking a refuge on the higher rocks whither the flames, spreading through the air, leaped after them. Juon Tare lost his eyesight in the flames. The others tried to find a refuge in the aqueduct running through the cavern, but the pursuing alcohol rushed after them like a living cataract of fire. Everyone seemed bound to perish at this hellish marriage feast.
Only two people did not lose their presence of mind; only two knew what ought to be done, and one of these was Fatia Negra. When the armed soldiers scattered from before the door of the smelting-furnace, he had boldly waded through the burning spirit; he knew very well that it could not set fire to clothing immediately and he took care to hold his hands in front of his eyes to save himself from being blinded. He tore the door open and hastily vanished through it.
The other was Anicza, who, when she saw that in the hundred-fold confusion everyone had lost his head and was running desperately to certain death, quickly snatched up an axe, rushed to the gigantic beer vats and staved in their bottoms. The neutral fluid streamed down upon the floor like a water fall and, gradually gaining ground, forced the flaming palinka[31] back further and further, till at last the infernal blue light was gradually extinguished.
[31] Hungarian brandy.
By that time, however, the beautiful bride was a sight of horror, her face was burnt out of all recognition.
Every member of the party had received injuries from the fire. Some of them, already blinded, writhed in agony on the ground and dipped their faces in the cool puddles formed by the flowing beer. Old Onucz had not a hair of his head left, but for all that he was still sitting on a heap of ducats, which were rolling in every direction out of the half charred sacks. His scorched hands he dug down deep among his ducats, and thought, perhaps, that they would assuage his pangs.
Both of Juon Tare's eyes had been burnt out by an explosion of gunpowder, and two of the soldiers had also received serious injuries.
Only after the general terror had subsided a little, did it occur to someone that now that the fire had been brought under, Fatia Negra might be pursued. This someone was the bride.
It was she who seized a new torch, it was she who cried to the soldiers: "After me!" and was the first to tear open the door of the smelting-furnace. Within was darkness. By torchlight they explored every corner of that underground world—but Fatia Negra was nowhere to be found.
CHAPTER XIV
THE MIKALAI CSÁRDA
From Hidvár to Gyula Fehervár is a good day's journey, even with the best horses and in the best weather; in the rainy season the mountain streams make the journey still longer. Fortunately, exactly half-way lies the Mikalai csárdá, in which dwells a good honest Wallachian gentleman who also follows the profession of innkeeper. In these mining regions there are no Jews, all the inns and csárdás are in the hands of the Armenians and Wallachs: the people are content with them and the Hungarian gentry like them.
Young Makkabesku had built up his den in a most picturesque situation beside a stream gushing down from among the mountains and forming a waterfall close to the very house. This stream possessed the peculiar property of turning to stone every leaf and twig which fell into it, even the branches of the trees hanging over it were turned into pretty white petrifactions so far as the water was able to reach them.
Domnul Makkabesku did not carry on the business of inn-keeper for the sake of gain (he would not have been able to make a living out of it if he had tried), but from sheer goodheartedness and good-fellowship. His charges therefore were extremely moderate. A traveller on foot who asked for a night's lodging, had to pay twopence, a traveller on horseback a shilling; if he required wine and brandy for supper as well, still he was only charged a shilling. Who would go to the trouble of totting up extra figures for trifles of that sort? A carriage and four was not taxed at all, those who came in it paid what they chose. If anybody did not ask what he had to pay but simply shook hands and went on his way, mine host simply wished him a happy journey and never said a word about his account.
For Makkabesku was a proud man in his way and thought a great deal of his gentility. He expected to be addressed as "Domnule!"[32] and was delighted when his guests took notice of his coat of arms hanging up in the guest chamber,—to-wit, a black bear with three darts in its heel—and enquired as to its meaning; when he would explain that that black bear with the three darts which was also painted on a sheet of lead and swung backwards and forwards in front of the house between two iron rods was not a sign-board, but his family crest.
[32] Sir.
Late one afternoon Baron Leonard Hátszegi might have been seen on foot crossing the bridge which led to the Mikalai csárdá, and entering its courtyard. He came on foot with a small box under his arm and his double-barrelled gun across his shoulder. Makkabesku greeted him from the verandah while he was still a long way off.
"God be with your lordship! Is anything amiss that your lordship comes on foot?"
"Yes, at that cursed tyira lupului[33] the axle of my coach gave way. I have always said that that bad bit of road ought to be seen to, this is at least the sixth time that this accident has befallen me."
[33] Wolf-corner.
"God is the cause thereof, your lordship. Whenever the stream overflows it damages the road."
"That is no consolation for me. My fellows are struggling with the coach yonder and cannot set it upright again, so badly damaged it is. It is a good job I was driving my own horses, for otherwise my neck might have been broken. As it is one of my heydukes has sprained his hand. Send help to them at once, or they are likely to remain there all night. Where's your little girl?"
"Ah, my lord! your lordship will always be having your little joke.—Flora, come hither!"
A pretty little maid came out of the inn at these words, and smiled upon the nobleman with a face toasted red by the kitchen fire.
"Take his lordship's gun and little box and carry them into the guest-room!"
"Well, my little girl! how are you? not married yet, eh?" said the baron, pinching her round red cheeks whilst the wench took his box.
"Heh, but 'tis heavy!" she gasped, as if she were quite frightened at the weight of the box. "Won't the gun go off?"
"Don't turn your fiery eyes upon it, or else it might—eh, grandpapa, what do you say?"
"Come, Flora, go in, go in! His lordship is always in such capital spirits. Even when his carriage comes to grief he will have his joke all the same."
The point of the joke was that Makkabesku was a man not much beyond forty though there were flecks of grey on the back of his head here and there. The girl, on the other hand, was scarcely sixteen when the Roumanian gentleman took her to wife. Leonard therefore always made a point of aggravating the innkeeper by pretending to believe that his wife was his daughter and by regularly asking him, as if he were her grandfather, when he intended to get his granddaughter married.
"You need not send help to my carriage, after all," said Hátszegi, after due reflection; "for, by and by I'll see to that myself. I am going back that way. But I should like you to place that little box in some safe place for the time being. It contains 4,000 ducats and that is no trifle."
"Huh! my lord!" cried the innkeeper clapping the back of his head with both hands, as if he feared it was already about to fall off backwards. "Your lordship dares to carry so much gold about with you and stroll so carelessly about in these parts!"
"Carelessly!—what do you mean? I cannot wheel them in front of me on a barrow can I? I want to pay them into my account at Fehervár the day after to-morrow; I have payments to make. That is why I carry them about with me."
"I only meant to say that it is dangerous to go about alone with so much money."
"I am not in the habit of going about with an escort."
"The more's the pity, Domnule. These parts are panic-stricken, since Anicza betrayed the coiners in the Lucsia Cavern, we have been saddled with a whole heap of calamities. A lot of poor fools and a heap of treasure were captured, but the head of the band, Fatia Negra, was suffered to escape. And now, furious at his loss of treasure, he blackmails the whole region. Nobody is safe here now,—only the day before yesterday he stopped and robbed the royal mails on the King's highroad."
"Ho, ho! If he takes to those games, he'll soon get his teeth broken. He won't venture to touch me though, I'll be bound."
"I don't know about that Domnule. He wears a mask and therefore has no need to blush or blanch at anything."
"Does he ever look in here, or has he ever lodged with you?"
"No, my lord, I can safely say that he has never been here, to my great astonishment I must confess. For a great many gentlemen call here and many paths lead hitherward."
"Don't you keep arms in your house?"
"Why should I? I have not enough money to make it worth Fatia Negra's while to rob me. Besides, it is a great mistake to resist him. Juon Tare actually had him in his hands, yet what was the result? He goes about now a blind beggar. Anicza betrayed him and brought down the soldiers upon him, yet what did she get by it? He vanished under the earth, but she reduced her old father to poverty and is now sitting with all her acquaintances in the dungeons of Gyula Fehervár!"
"Fear nothing! At any rate no ill can befall you while I go to my coachman and come back again. Lock this casket in your wall-cupboard in the meantime, and keep the key yourself."
"Nay, let your lordship keep it rather. I don't want it to be said that I knew anything about it."
So Makkabesku locked up the casket in the huge wall-closet which greatly resembled a large standing clock case and in which were his diploma of nobility and all his domestic treasures. The key of the locked closet he returned to his guest. Then by way of extra precaution, he locked the room as well and forced that key also upon the Baron.
"Domnule," he added, when he saw that Hátszegi was determined to return to his wrecked coach. "I can only say that I should be very glad if your lordship would not go. The servants will be quite able to bring the carriage along."
"That they cannot: the whole lot of them are mere boors who have never seen a carriage with an iron axle."
"Let me go then, and your lordship remain here."
"I suppose you want me, then, to show your daughter how to cook?"
The innkeeper's eyebrows contracted at these words; his desire to go visibly subsided.
"But suppose I am afraid of being left alone in the house with so much money?"
"Come, come, wretched man!" cried Hátszegi at last losing all patience, "you don't suppose that your blockhead of a bandit is lying in wait for me, do you? Look you now! I'll leave you my gun. Take it in your hand and plant yourself there before the door. Bring out a chair, if you like, and sit down on it. Pull down the hammers of both barrels and hold your thumb on them and your index finger on the trigger. The left barrel is filled with ten buckshot and you can be quite sure that whoever approaches you from the lower end of this passage will inevitably get five in his body,—and five of them is enough for anybody. The second barrel, the right one I mean, is loaded with a bullet which we generally keep in reserve for a wild beast, at the last moment, at six paces; at that distance any child could kill a giant. Don't be afraid, if he wore a coat of mail, it would go through it, for that bullet has a steel point and would perforate a leaden door. Come, you are not afraid now, surely?"
Makkabesku certainly felt a great stream of courage flow into his heart at the knowledge that he held in his hand a weapon which could kill the most terrible of men twice over.
"But what about your lordship?" he enquired.
"Oh, I've got two revolvers in my pocket."
And with that, gaily whistling, Hátszegi strode down the long passage and peeped into the kitchen, on his way out, to exchange a word or two with the fair young cook.
"Look ye, my daughter, have supper ready by my return, and take care not to over-salt the soup!" and then with the nonchalance becoming his station he sauntered across the bridge again into the highroad, followed all the way by the eyes of Makkabesku.—"What a gallant fellow it is!" reflected the Roumanian.
The innkeeper did not count courage among his virtues. He was a peace-loving soul who detested the very idea of a brawl. Even when he sat down to drink, it was always inside a room with a locked door, for on one occasion, when he had got drunk in public, the wine had instilled within him such unwonted audacity that he had got his skull broken in two places in consequence. After that he avoided all such occasions of heroism.
For such folks who have nothing to do with firearms as a rule, there is a peculiar charm in suddenly holding a loaded weapon in their hands. Valour and a sudden access of pugnacity combine to put them in a condition of perpetual fever. A strange longing arises within them to make use of their weapon. Once or twice Makkabesku raised his gun to his cheek and made a target of a fly on the wall. At the end of the vestibule facing him was an old Roman image, the head and bust of an Emperor, which had been unearthed in the neighbourhood of the house when the foundations had been laid, and had been adopted forthwith as a family relic. If this old imperial figurehead had been an enemy, let us say the famous robber of the district, our marksman felt that he could easily have shattered his skull for him.
The sun was now slowly descending from the sky, and the lower it sank, the less golden and the more purple grew the light which it threw upon the ancient monument opposite, till the shadow of an adjacent column fell softly across it and hid it half from view.
Suddenly it seemed to Makkabesku as if he saw the shadow of a human head moving beside the shadow of the column.
The breath died away on his lips—someone was lurking there!
"Who is there?" he cried, in a voice half choked with terror. The same instant there stood before him at the opposite end of the corridor—Fatia Negra!
Yes, there the figure was just as it had been described to him, enfolded in a black atlas mantle, with a black mask across its face.
"Stay where you are, don't come here!" cried the armed Makkabesku, in an agony of terror, "or I'll shoot you through," and as the mask continued to advance, he hurriedly fired off the left barrel of the gun.
The smoke of the powder cleared away, Fatia Negra stood there unwounded, he was coming nearer and nearer!
Ah, those little shots could not hurt him, of course—but now he shall have the bullet with the steel point.
As the first shot was fired, Makkabesku's wife came running out of the kitchen and came face to face with the robber. He immediately seized her arm with his muscular hand and flung her back into the kitchen the door of which he locked upon her.
Mr. Makkabesku permitted all this to go on before his very eyes, but he had raised the gun and held it firmly pressed against his cheek, he wanted the robber to draw nearer still that he might make quite sure of him.
When there were only three yards between them he aimed right at the middle of the intruder, pressed the trigger of the gun and the right barrel also exploded.
Yet the report was followed by no death cry—and Fatia Negra still stood in front of him unscathed.
Paralyzed with terror Makkabesku continued to hold the discharged gun in front of him as if he expected it to go off again of its own accord; but Fatia Negra, catching hold of the end of the gun with one hand, wrenched it out of the innkeeper's grasp and brought down the butt of it so violently on the top of his head that he collapsed in a senseless condition.
After that nobody knew what happened.
When Hátszegi and his servants arrived with the patched-up carriage, Makkabesku was still lying on the ground unconscious, his wife was thundering at the locked door, the door of the guest chamber was smashed and the cupboard in the wall had been broken into and pillaged. Curiously enough, while not one of the innkeeper's relics was missing, Hátszegi's box with the 4,000 ducats had disappeared. A little later it was found in the bed of the stream—empty of course.
Makkabesku was a very long time coming to, but he contrived at last, in a very tremulous voice, to tell Hátszegi the somnambulistic case of the double shots, nay he called Heaven to witness that Fatia Negra had caught the bullets in his hands as if they were flies.
"You're a fool," cried Hátszegi angrily. "I suppose you fired above his head on both occasions."
"But then you ought to see the marks of the bullets on the opposite wall."
And it was a fact that, look as they might, they found no trace of a bullet on the walls or anywhere else.
CHAPTER XV
WHO IT WAS THAT RECOGNIZED FATIA NEGRA
The events at the Mikalai csárdá considerably upset Hátszegi. He returned home very sulky and was unusually ungracious towards Henrietta. There were several violent scenes between them, in the course of which the baron twitted his wife with having betrayed him and hinted that it was all in consequence of her own and her brother's bad conduct that she had been disinherited by her grandfather. He revealed to her that he knew everything. He was well aware, he said, that in her girlhood she had had a rascally young attorney as a lover and had thereby incurred her grandfather's anger.
Henrietta, poor thing, had not the spirit to answer him back: "If you knew this, why did you marry me? Why did you not leave me then to him with whom I should have been happy if poor?" She could only reply with tears. She trembled before him while she loathed him.
And yet how dependent she was on him.
She was well aware now of what her brother was accused, and never doubted for a moment what she ought to do. She ought to atone for his fault by an act of self-sacrifice. She must recognize the forgery as her real signature. But what then? The recognition of the signature must needs have consequences. What would be the result of her action?
She could see she had no help to expect from her husband. At every step she perceived that he eagerly sought occasion to quarrel with her and seized every pretext for avoiding her. And now to add to her embarrassment, there was this unlucky Mikalai accident. It seemed just to have come in the nick of time so far as he was concerned, just as if he had actually agreed with Fatia Negra that the latter should rob him on the high road in the most artful manner so that she might not have the slightest hope left of being relieved from her anxieties by the assistance of her husband. The baron, now could always end every tête-à-tête by remarking that that rogue Fatia Negra had relieved him of all his money, and he knew not how to make good his loss.
One day, while away from home hunting at Csáko, Baron Leonard learnt that the Countess Kengyelesy's latest ideal was Szilard Vámhidy and when chance soon afterwards brought him also to Arad, he could see for himself that the countess really did load the young man with distinction in society.
The circumstance began to irritate him.
This pale-faced youth with the big burning eyes had turned the head of his own consort once upon a time, and now he was making other enviable conquests. The idea occurred to Hátszegi to knock this "student chap" out of his saddle a second time. Heretofore he had never regarded the countess as a particularly pretty woman, but now he very readily persuaded himself that he was over head and ears in love with her.
He began to pay his court to her—and he was lucky. At least everybody believed it—himself included.
The countess always seemed pleased to see him, and the oftener he paid his visits, the less frequent grew the visits of Szilard. Occasionally they met at the countess's and then Szilard would hastily step aside, as vanquished rivals are wont to do when their conquerors appear. At last Leonard was a daily institution at the countess's, while Szilard only appeared there occasionally.
Yet one day, while Hátszegi was in the drawing room of the countess, paying his court to her most assiduously, Vámhidy entered sans gêne; whereupon the countess hastily springing up from her causeuse asked leave of the baron to withdraw for a moment and there and then conducted Vámhidy into her private boudoir and remained closeted with him for a good quarter of an hour, whilst Hátszegi, yellow with jealousy, was left alone with the countess's French companion, who could answer nothing but "oui" and "non" to all his remarks.
When the countess emerged from her room, she seemed to be in a very good humour. She accompanied Szilard all the way to the drawing-room door, pressed his hand, and when they parted at the door exchanged a significant look with him, at the same time touching her lips with her index finger—a very confidential piece of pantomime as any connoisseur will tell you.
And all this Hátszegi saw reflected in the mirror, opposite to which he sat.
As soon as the countess sat down, her companion, as if at a given signal, arose and left the room.
Scarcely were they alone when the baron petulantly remarked: "It appears as if your ladyship and our young friend rejoiced in very intimate mutual relations."
"Oh, very intimate. I assure you he is a most worthy, honourable man."
"So I observe."
"I am quite in earnest. I find him quite a treasure, and he is extraordinarily attached to me."
"Very nice of him, I'm sure."
"Oh, you gentlemen, what mockers you are. There are men, I can tell you, who for all that they are poor are more capable of self-sacrifice than the haughtiest nabobs who make such a fuss over us till we are in trouble and then snatch up their hats and fly from the house. You also belong to that class, my lord!"
"I don't understand you."
"Suppose, for instance, I were to say to you: my dear friend, I have fallen into quite an awkward predicament and to-day or to-morrow they will distrain upon me for 40,000 florins."
The baron burst out laughing.
"Don't laugh, for so it really is. That need cause you no anxiety, however, I only ask you to tell nobody, especially my husband. He would be capable of making an end of me if he knew it."
"But seriously, countess, who could ever have lent you 40,000 florins?"
"Nobody, and yet I am indebted to that amount. You must know that once upon a time, many years ago, when we lived at Vienna, I was given to card playing. We played for high stakes in those days. One evening not only did I lose all my cash, but had to give I.O.U.'s for 1,000 florins besides. Debts contracted at play cannot remain unpaid for more than a couple of days. It was absolutely indispensable that I should procure these thousand florins somehow. I would not ask my husband for them and that was very foolish of me. I got the amount at last from a wretched usurer at an enormous rate of interest. When the amount plus interest became due again, I was still more afraid to tell my husband, and so kept on giving fresh bills, with the result that the amount of my indebtedness grew and grew as the years rolled on, till it resembled the egg of the widow in the nursery tale—out of which came first two cocks, then a bristling boar, then a camel, and finally a carriage and four, for at last my original poor little debt of one thousand florins swelled into forty thousand and the usurers became importunate and would allow me no more credit. Once when I was in a very bad humour, I let out my secret before Szilard, and the worthy young man undertook to relieve me of my burden. I don't know whether he detected a technical flaw in my bonds or whether he found out some other means of frightening my creditor; anyway, he assured me I only need pay the original sum with interest upon it at the legal rate. Moreover, he undertook to procure me an honourable loan on easy conditions, which to me was a veritable godsend. And so now you know, my dear friend, why Vámhidy is so welcome a guest at my house that I leave even you all alone with my companion when he comes. But you can see for yourself how dear and necessary he is to me and how much I owe to him."
Hátszegi remained in a brown study for several moments, and began biting his lips. The countess sat down at the piano with the most amiable nonchalance as if she gave not another thought to what she had been speaking about.
"If only I had not had the misfortune to be robbed!" cried Hátszegi at last.
"Do you know what, my dear friend," said the countess, at the same time letting her fingers glide lightly over the ivory keys of the piano, "I consider the whole of that affair as simply incredible. Two shots so close to a man and no result!—why it borders a little upon the fabulous!"
"Then I suppose you think it was the innkeeper himself who robbed me?"
The countess shrugged her round shoulders slightly and went on playing.
"That is not possible," resumed the baron, answering his own query, "for I myself saw the blow which Makkabesku received on the head from the butt of the musket, and I can tell your ladyship that there are no four thousand ducats in the world for the sake of which I could lend my head to such a blow."
The countess interrupted her roulades for a moment:
"You saw it, eh? And did anybody else see it?"
Hátszegi was strangely surprised by this question.
"What is in your mind, Countess?" he asked.
"I am thinking, my dear friend, that you have some particular reason for playing the injured man, and I have read the whole tale of the Maccabees in some history or other of the Jews which you would now palm off upon the world as something new."
"Your jests are most unmerciful, Countess; but may I beg of you to give that piano a little rest, especially as it wants tuning. I should like to speak seriously to you for a moment or two."
"About the Maccabees, eh?" enquired the countess, laughing.
"No. About myself. I am quite serious when I say I have had losses. Your ladyship need not know how. But for all that I know what a gentleman ought to do after such a revelation as that with which the countess has just honoured me and which I accept as a most flattering mark of confidence."
"Impossible."
"What I say is never impossible; but what that student fellow has chosen to palm off on your ladyship that is impossible. He will not be able to help your ladyship without a great scandal. Naturally a mere attorney looks upon that as a matter of course. He does not understand that there are cases in which a person would rather spring into a well than risk her reputation in the eyes of the world by appealing to the courts for redress. I make your ladyship another proposal: I will exchange a bond of my own against the bond of the countess to an equal amount. I feel confident that the usurers will lend readily on my paper and will jump at the exchange."
"Oh, many thanks, many thanks! But, first of all, I should like to know what interest you mean to charge me; for I am not going to pay anything usurious again."
"Legal and Christian interest, I assure you. But I must impose one condition: your ladyship's doors must henceforth be closed against this lawyer fellow."
"Are you serious, Baron?"
"Perfectly so."
"Are you not afraid I shall take you at your word?"
"By doing so you will satisfy my desires. Look, Countess! I consider myself as one of your most sincere admirers and it wounds me to hear all this tittle-tattle circulating in our set which links your ladyship's name with that of young Vámhidy."
"But will it not injure the respect you entertain for me if your name takes the place of Vámhidy's in the gossip you complain of?"
"All that I desire is that a certain man shall be excluded from this house, and if the countess desires it I will then keep away likewise."
The countess hastened to press Hátszegi's hand as a sign that she did not desire that.
"Very well, then, to prove to you that my relations with Vámhidy were purely professional, I will break off all further intercourse with him."
"Then we'll clinch your ladyship's determination at once. May I make use of your writing table? Have you any other ink than this rose-coloured ink, with which to be sure, your ladyship generally writes your letters, but which is a little unusual in official documents?"
"Everything you desire, sealing-wax included."
"That is not necessary for bills. What a fortunate thing that I have a blank form with me."
The baron discovered in his pocket a blank form, without which no gentleman ever goes about, and filled it up in the usual way. The countess, with her elbows on the back of the armchair, looked over the baron's shoulder while he signed the precious document, and thought to herself: what an odd thing it is when a rich and influential man refuses, with a heart of iron, to give his wife a little assistance which would make her happy and save her brother from dishonour, and yet lightly pitches the very sum required out of the window for the sake of a pretty speech from another woman who is almost a stranger to him!
After signing the document Leonard did not linger another instant, but snatched up his hat and hastened off so as to avoid the suspicion that he was expecting some little gratification on account.
The pressure of the hand which the countess exchanged with him at parting assured him that this conquering manoeuver on his part was a complete success.
Subsequently, however, as, stretched at full length on his sofa, he was smoking his first pipe of tobacco, he grew suspicious, and speedily felt convinced that the countess's tale of the usurers was a fable from beginning to end and that Vámhidy was some broker or other who lent money privately; and he began to be not quite so proud at having ousted the fellow from her ladyship's drawing room.
But a still greater surprise awaited him.
He had a shrewd suspicion that the Countess Kengyelesy did not require the bill he had signed to discharge any debt to usurers; but not even in his dreams would it ever have occurred to him that Madame Kengyelesy, at the very moment when he had gone out into the street, had sat down on the very same chair from which the baron had arisen, taken into her hand the very same pen in which the ink he had used was not yet dry, and selecting a sheet of letter paper, written a few lines of her long pointed pot-hooks to her friend, the Baroness Hátszegi: informing her in a most friendly manner that she had succeeded in persuading Hátszegi to exchange the bill that Koloman was suspected of forging for one of his own in order to give his wife the opportunity of acknowledging the signature as her own and putting a stop to all further legal proceedings. All this was set forth with far greater elaboration than it is here, but was nevertheless perfectly intelligible. The original bill was appended to the letter and the letter was posted. Henrietta was bound to receive it next day.
Imagine then the surprise of Hátszegi, who for the last three days had been pacing impatiently up and down his room, naturally expecting every moment that the countess would surrender at discretion and send for him out of sheer gratitude, when the door was suddenly opened with considerable impetuosity and in came—Henrietta. Before he could sufficiently recover from his amazement to ask her what she was looking for there, his wife fell on his neck, and, sobbing with emotion, came out with some long rigamarole about delicacy,—gratitude—a delightful surprise—and only half suspected kindness of heart—and a lot more of unintelligible nonsense, winding up by begging his pardon if ever she had unwittingly offended him and promising him that after this she would ever be his faithful slave!
After this!—after what?
It was only when his wife told him that she was alluding to that bill for 40,000 florins which he had been so kind as to send her through the countess, that some inkling of the truth burst upon him.
"Oh, that eh! It quite escaped my memory and is not worth mentioning," he cried, hiding his astonishment beneath the affectation of a magnanimity which scorned even to remember such trifles.
Oh, if the countess had been able to see him at that moment, how she would have laughed!
Every drop of Leonard's blood seemed to turn to gall. How ridiculous he had been made to appear by a woman's nobility, and the consciousness thereof was still further embittered by the artless and innocent gratitude of that other woman—his own wife. He could have torn the pair of them to pieces. What a pretty fool he had made of himself. He had purchased the love of his wife for 40,000 florins. He could not demand back the bill from her, nor could he explain to her the compromising origin of that document. And in addition to that, he must play the part of dignified pater familias which his wife had assigned to him in this domestic drama, instead of that of first lover which was so much more to his liking.
"All right, Henrietta," said he, assuming a calmness he was far from feeling. "If you like to give me the bill, I'll see that it is posted to your lawyer at Pest, Mr. Sipos."
Henrietta thanked him sincerely, but said she would rather take it to Pest herself in order that she might have a long confidential talk with Mr. Sipos personally about her poor brother.
"Then wait, Henrietta, till the Arad races are over. You know I am greatly interested in them. If I am not there myself they are quite capable of striking my horses out."
"My dear Leonard, I don't want you to interrupt any of your business or pleasure on my account. I can easily go by myself. But I don't want to postpone the matter a single day. You know how anxious I am about my poor brother."
"Well, but you know that the roads are very dangerous just now. You know what happened to myself a little while ago."
"Oh, I have my plan all cut and dried. I am prepared for the very worst. If robbers attack me I will give up to them, at the first challenge, all the cash I have about me. What I am most afraid of is the bill, but I will hide that so that nobody can find it."
"My dear, these men are very artful."
"Oh, they won't find it, I can tell you. The insides of my upper-sleeves consist of steel rings which fasten close to the arms, and I will roll up my bill, insert it within my sleeve and draw a steel ring over it. They will never guess that, will they?"
"A good idea, certainly."
Yet, good idea as he thought it, Hátszegi nevertheless complained to his friend Gerzson, whom he met at the club the same evening, how anxious he was about his wife, who was going all the way to Pest next day, and how glad he would be, since he was unable to accompany her himself, if someone would persuade her not to go.
Naturally Mr. Gerzson at once offered to dissuade the baroness, as Hátszegi had anticipated, and was invited to tea by him the same day with that express purpose, but, talk as he might, he could not prevail with Henrietta. In reply to all his arguments, she pleaded for her poor brother, whose fate, she added, with tears, depended upon her instant action.
Now, Mr. Gerzson was a gentleman—every inch of him. He was also kind-hearted to a fault, and when he beheld the poor woman in despair, he put an end to the difficulty by saying: "Very well, my lady, then I will escort you to Pest myself."
At this Hátszegi fairly lost all patience. "Why, what can you be thinking of?" cried he.
"Your pardon, Leonard, but I suppose you may regard me as old enough and honourable enough to fill the place of a father to your wife on an occasion like this! It appears to me that it will never enter anybody's head to speak slightingly of a lady because she travelled alone with me."
Good, worthy old man, he was quite proud that no woman could look at his face without a shudder.
"And then I fancy that there's still quite enough of me left to defend a woman against anybody, even though it were the devil himself. And I should advise that worthy Fatia Negra not to show his mug to me, for my stunted hand does not fire guns as our friend Makkabesku is in the habit of doing, nor will my bullets be caught like flies, I warrant."
"You will be done out of the horse-racing, all through me," remarked Henrietta sadly.
"Oh, it does not interest me much. I don't care much about it."
This was not true, but it was all the nicer of the old man to say so.
"Then you really mean to escort my wife to Pest?" said Hátszegi, at last.
"With the greatest of pleasure."
"Very well. At any rate, I will see to all the travelling arrangements that there may be no delay at any of the stages. Which way do you prefer to go via Csongrad or via Szeged?
"By way of Csongrad."
"Well, 'tis the shorter of the two certainly, but at this season of the year the road is as hard as steel. It will be as well to provide my horses with fresh shoes."
"It is now ten o'clock. By midnight your coachman will have managed to do all that. The baroness would do well if she had a little sleep now. Meanwhile I will go home for my luggage and my weapons; at two o'clock in the morning I shall be here again, and at three we can start."
"I will be awake and watching for you, and I thank you with all my heart."
Mr. Gerzson drank up his tea and hastened home. Leonard advised Henrietta to go and sleep—and she really was very sleepy—while he went to the stables to see to the horses.
It was about midnight when he returned. He looked very tired, like one who has had a great deal of bustling about. He was alone in the drawing room, so he stirred up the fire, lit a cigar and waited in silence.
At half past two Mr. Gerzson rang the gate-bell; he entered the drawing-room very boisterously like one resolved to wake up the whole house. A little coffer hung upon his stunted arm, in the other hand he carried a double-barrelled gun, and from a pouch, fastened by straps to his shoulder, peeped forth two four-barrelled pistols.
"Why, plague take it!" laughed Hátszegi, "you are armed for a whole guerilla warfare."
"No more than Fatia Negra deserves," replied Mr. Gerzson with a sombre grimace. "Is your wife up and dressed?"
"I fancy she lay down ready dressed."
"All the better. It'll be as well if we start early."
"I hear the opening and closing of doors in her apartments, no doubt your ringing disturbed her. She will be here in an instant, for she is very impatient."
"That is only natural."
"And in the meantime, let us have something to strengthen the heart," said Hátszegi producing a flask of szilvapalinka[34] and filling his own and his guest's glass. "If you have a chance of shooting Fatia Negra, you must give me one half of the thousand ducats set upon his head, because I have abandoned this fine opportunity to you."