IF HE LOVES, THEN LET HIM LOVE!
Lorand's whole being revolted at what Czipra had told him. That girl was
the bride of that fatal adversary! of that man for whose sake he was to
die! And that man would laugh when they stealthily transferred him, the
victim too sensible of honor, to the crypt, when he would dance with his
newly won bride till morning dawned, and delight in the smile of that
face, which could not even weep for the lost one.
That thought led to eternal damnation. No, no: not to damnation: further
than that, there and back again, back to that unspeakable circle, where
feelings of honor remain in the background, and moral insensibility
rules the day. That thought was able to drive out of Lorand's heart the
conviction, that when an honorable man has given his life or his honor
into the hands of an adversary, of the two only the latter can be
chosen.
From that hour he pursued quite a different path of life.
Now the work in the fields might go on without his supervision: there
was no longer such need of his presence. He had far more time for
staying at home.
Nor did he keep himself any farther away from the girls: he went after
them and sought them; he was spirited in conversation, choice in his
dress, and that he might display his shrewdness, he courted both girls
at the same time, the one out of courtesy, the other for love.
Topandy watched them smilingly. He did not mind whatever turn the affair
took. He was as fond of Czipra as he was of Melanie, and fonder of the
boy than either. Of the three there would be only one pair; he would
give his blessing to whichever two should come together. It was a
lottery! Heaven forbid that a strange hand should draw lots for one.
But Czipra was already quite clear about everything, It was not for her
sake that Lorand stayed at home.
She herself was forced to acknowledge the important part which Melanie
played in the house, with her thoughtful, refined, modest behavior; she
was so sensible, so clever in everything. In the most delicate situation
she could so well maintain a woman's dignity, while side by side she
displayed a maiden's innocence. When his comrades were at the table,
Topandy strove always by ambiguous jokes, delivered in his cynical, good
humor, to bring a blush to the cheeks of the girls, who were obliged to
do the honors at table; on such occasions Czipra noisily called him to
order, while Melanie cleverly and spiritedly avoided the arrow-point of
the jest, without opposing to it any foolish prudery, or cold
insensibility;--and how this action made her queen of every heart!
Without doubt she was the monarch of the house: the dearest, most
beautiful, and cleverest;--hers was every triumph.
And on such occasions Czipra was desperate.
"Yet all in vain! For, however clever, and beautiful, and enchanting
that other, I am still the real one. I feel and know it:--but I cannot
prove it! If we could only tear out our hearts and compare them;--but
that is impossible."
Czipra was forced to see that everybody sported with her, while they
behaved seriously with that other.
And that completely poisoned her soul.
Without any mental refinement, supplied with only so much of the
treasure of moral reserve, as nature and instinct had grafted into her
heart, with only a dreamy suspicion about the lofty ideas of religion
and virtue, this girl was capable of murdering her whom they loved
better than herself.
Murder, but not as the fabled queen murdered the fairy Hofeherke,[62]
because the gnomes whispered untiringly in her ear "Thou art beautiful,
fair queen: but Hofeherke is still more beautiful." Czipra wished to
murder her but not so that she might die and then live again.
[Footnote 62: Little Snow-white, the step-daughter of the queen, who
commanded her huntsman to bring her the eyes and liver of Hofeherke,
thinking she would thus become the most beautiful of all, but he brought
her those of a wild beast. The queen thought her rival was dead, but her
magic mirror told her she was living still beyond hill and sea.]
She was a gypsy girl, a heathen, and in love. Inherited tendencies,
savage breeding, and passion had brought her to a state where she could
have such ideas.
It was a hellish idea, the counsel of a restless devil who had stolen
into a defenceless woman's heart.
Once it occurred to her to turn the rooms in the castle upside down; she
found fault with the servants, drove them from their ordinary lodgings,
dispersed them in other directions, chased the gentlemen from their
rooms, under the pretext that the wall-papers were already very much
torn: then had the papers torn off and the walls re-plastered. She
turned everything so upside down that Topandy ran away to town, until
the rooms should be again reduced to order.
The castle had four fronts, and therefore there were two corridors
crossing through at right angles: the chief door of the one opened on
the courtyard, that of the other led into the garden. The rooms opened
right and left from the latter corridor.
During this great disorder Czipra moved Lorand into one of the vis-a-vis
rooms. The opposite room she arranged as Melanie's temporary chamber. Of
course it would not last long; the next day but one, order would be
restored, and everyone could go back to his usual place.
And then it was that wicked thoughts arose in her heart: "if he loves,
then let him love!"
At supper only three were sitting at table. Lorand was more abstracted
than usual, and scarcely spoke a word to them: if Czipra addressed him,
there was such embarrassment in his reply, that it was impossible not to
remark it.
But Czipra was in a particularly jesting mood to-day.
"My friend Balint, you are sleepy. Yet you had better take care of us at
night, lest someone steal us."
"Lock your door well, my dear Czipra, if you are afraid."
"How can I lock my door," said Czipra smiling light-heartedly, "when
those cursed servants have so ruined the lock of every door at this side
of the house that they would fly open at one push."
"Very well, I shall take care of you."
Therewith Lorand wished them good night, took his candle and went out.
Czipra hurried Melanie too to depart.
"Let us go to bed in good time, as we must be early afoot to-morrow."
This evening the customary conversation at the window did not take
place.
The two girls shook hands and wished each other good night. Melanie
departed to her room. Czipra was sleeping in the room next to hers.
When Melanie had shut the door behind her, Czipra blew out the candle in
her own room, and remained in darkness. With her clothes on she threw
herself on her bed, and then, resting her head on her elbow, listened.
Suddenly she thought the opposite room door gently opened.
The beating of her heart almost pierced through her bosom.
"If he loves, then let him love."
Then she rose from her bed, and, holding her breath, slipped to the door
and looked through the keyhole into Melanie's room.[63]
[Footnote 63: This was of course through the door that communicated
between the rooms of Melanie and Czipra.]
The candle was still burning there.
But from her position she could not see Melanie. From the rustling of
garments she suspected that Melanie was taking off her dress. Now with
quiet steps she approached the table, on which the candle was burning.
She had a white dressing-gown on, her hair half let down, in her hand
that little black book, in which Czipra had so often admired those
"Glory" pictures without daring to ask what they were.
Melanie reached the table, and laying the little prayer-book on the
shelf of her mirror, kneeled down, and, clasping her two hands together,
rested against the corner of the table and prayed.
In that moment her whole figure was one halo of glory.
She was beautiful as a praying seraph, like one of those white phantoms
who rise with their airy figures to Heaven, palm-branches of glory in
their hands.
Czipra was annihilated.
She saw now that there was some superhuman phenomenon, before which
every passion bowed the knee, every purpose froze to crystals;--the
figure of a praying maiden! He who stole a look at that sight lost every
sinful emotion from his heart.
Czipra beat her breast in dumb agony. "She can fly, while I can only
crawl on the ground."
When the girl had finished her prayer she opened the book to find those
two glory-bright pictures, which she kissed several times in happy
rapture:--as the sufferer kisses his benefactor's hands, the orphan his
father's and mother's portraits, the miserable defenceless man the face
of God, who defends in the form of a column of cloud him who bows his
head under its shadow.
Czipra tore her hair in her despair and beat her brow upon the floor,
writhing like a worm.
At the noise she made Melanie darted up and hastened to the door to see
what was the matter with Czipra.
As soon as she noticed Melanie's approach, Czipra slunk away from her
place and before Melanie could open the door and enter, dashed through
the other door into the corridor.
Here another shock awaited her.
In the corner of the corridor she found Lorand sitting beside a table.
On the table a lamp was burning; before Lorand lay a book, beside him,
resting against his chair, a "tomahawk."[64]
[Footnote 64: The Magyar weapon is the so-called "fokos," which is much
smaller than a tomahawk, but is set on a long handle like a walking
stick, and only to be used with the hand in dealing blows, not for
throwing purposes.]
"What are you doing here?" inquired Czipra, starting back.
"I am keeping guard over you," answered Lorand. "As you said your doors
cannot be locked, I shall stay here till morning lest some one break in
upon you."
Czipra slunk back to her room. She met Melanie, who, candle in hand,
hastened towards her, and asked what was the matter.
"Nothing, nothing. I heard a noise outside. It frightened me."
No need of simulation, for she trembled in every limb.
"You afraid?" said Melanie, surprised. "See, I am not afraid. It will be
good for me to come to you and sleep with you to-night."
"Yes, it will," assented Czipra. "You can sleep on my bed."
"And you?"
"I?" Czipra inquired with a determined glance. "Oh, just here!"
And therewith she threw herself on the floor before the bed.
Melanie, alarmed, drew near to her, seized her arm, and tried to raise
her. She asked her: "Czipra, what is the matter with you? Tell me what
has happened?"--Czipra did not answer, did not move, did not open her
eyes.
Melanie seeing she could not reanimate her, rose in despair, and,
clasping her hands, panted:
"Great Heavens! what has happened?"--Then Czipra suddenly started up and
began to laugh.
"Ha ha! Now I just managed to frighten you."
Therewith rolling uncontrolledly on the floor, she laughed continuously
like one who has succeeded in playing a good joke on her companion.
"How startled I was!" panted Melanie, pressing her hands to her heaving
breast.
"Sleep in my bed," Czipra said. "I shall sleep here on the floor. You
know I am accustomed to sleep on the ground, covered with rugs.
"'My mother was a gypsy maid
She taught me to sleep on the ground,
In winter to walk with feet unbound;
In a ragged tent my home was made.'"
She sang Melanie this bizarre song twice in her peculiar melancholy
strain, and then suddenly threw around her the rug which lay on the bed,
put one arm under her head, and remained quite motionless; she would not
reply any longer to a single word of Melanie's.
The next day Topandy returned from town; scarce had he taken off his
traveling-cloak, when Czipra burst in upon him.
She seized his hand violently, and gazing wildly into his eyes, said:
"Sir, I cannot live longer under such conditions. I shall kill myself.
Teach me to pray."
Topandy looked at her in astonishment and shrugged his shoulders
sarcastically.
"Whatever possessed you to break in so upon me? Do you think I come from
some pilgrimage to Bodajk,[65] all my pockets full of saints' fiddles,
of beads, and of gingerbread-saints? Or am I a Levite? Am I a 'monk'
that you look to me for prayer?"
[Footnote 65: A place visited by pilgrims, like Lourdes, etc., it is in
Fehermegye (white county).]
"Teach me to pray. I have long enough besought you to do so, and I can
wait no longer."
"Go and don't worry me. I don't know myself where to find what you
want."
"It is not true. You know how to read. You have been taught everything.
You only deny knowledge of God, because you are ashamed before Him; but
I long to see His face! Oh, teach me to pray!"
"I know nothing, my dear, except the soldier's prayer."[66]
[Footnote 66: _i. e._, Blasphemy.]
"Very well. I shall learn that."
"I can recite it to you."
"Well, tell it to me."
Czipra acted as she had seen Melanie do: she kneeled down before the
table: clasping her hands devotedly and resting against the edge of the
table.
Topandy turned his head curiously: she was taking the matter seriously.
Then he stood before her, put his two hands behind him, and began to
recite to her the soldier's prayer.
"Adjon Isten harom 'B'-et,
Harom 'F'-et, harom 'P'-et.
Bort, buzat, bekesseget,
Fat, fuevet, feleseget,
Pipat, puskat, patrontast,
Es egy butykos palinkat!
Iketum, piketum, holt! berdo! vivat!"[67]
[Footnote 67: "God grant three 'B-s,' three 'F-s,' and three 'P-s.'
Wine, wheat, peace, wood, grass, wife, pipe, rifle, cartridge-case, and
a little cask of brandy.... Hurrah! hurrar!" It is quite impossible to
render the verse into English in any manner that would reproduce the
original, so I have given the original Magyar with a literal
translation.]
The poor little creature muttered the first sentences with such pitiable
devotion after that godless mouth:--but, when the thing began to take a
definitely jesting turn, she suddenly leaped up from her knees in a
rage, and before Topandy could defend himself, dealt him such a healthy
box on the ears that it made them sing; then she darted out and banged
the door after her.
Topandy became like a pillar of salt in his astonishment. He knew that
Czipra had a quick hand, but that she would ever dare to raise that tiny
hand against her master and benefactor, because of a mere trifling jest,
he was quite incapable of understanding.
She must be in some great trouble.
Though he never said a word, nor did Czipra, about the blow he had
received, and though when next they met they were the same towards one
another as they had ever been, Topandy ventured to make a jest at table
about this humorous scene, saying to Lorand:
"Balint, ask Czipra to repeat that prayer which she has learned from me:
but first seize her two hands."
"Oho!" threatened Czipra, her face burning red. "Just play some more of
your jokes upon me. Your lives are in my hands: one day I shall put
belladonna in the food, and poison us all together."
Topandy smilingly drew her towards him, smoothing her head; Czipra
sensitively pressed her master's hand to her lips, and covered it with
kisses;--then put him aside and went out into the kitchen,--to break
plates, and tear the servants' hair.