THE UNCONSCIOUS PHANTOM
What were they laughing at so much?
"Do you know what counsel Czipra gave us?" said Topandy. "As she did not
expect us to dinner, she advised us to go to Sarvoelgyi's, where there
will be a great banquet to-day. They are expecting somebody."
"Who will probably not arrive in time for dinner," added Desiderius.
Czipra joined the conversation from the extreme end of the corridor.
"The old housekeeper from Sarvoelgyi's was here to visit me. She asked
for the loan of a pie-dish and ice: for Mr. Gyali is expected to arrive
to-day from Szolnok."
"Bravo!" was Topandy's remark.
"And as I see you have left the young gentleman behind, just go
yourselves to taste Mistress Boris's pies, or she will overwhelm me
again with curses."
"We shall go, Czipra," said Lorand: "Yes, yes, don't laugh at the idea.
Get your hat, Desi: you are well enough dressed for a country call: let
us go across to Sarvoelgyi's."
"To Sarvoelgyi's?" said Czipra, clasping her hands, and coming closer to
Lorand. "You will go to Sarvoelgyi's?"
"Not just for Sarvoelgyi's sake," said Lorand very seriously,--"who is in
other respects a very righteous pious fellow; but for the sake of his
guests, who are old friends of Desi's.--Why, I have not yet told you,
Desi. Madame Balnokhazy and her daughter are staying here with Sarvoelgyi
on a matter of some legal business. You cannot overlook them, if you
are in the same village with them."
"I might go away without seeing them," replied Desiderius indifferently;
"but I don't mind paying them a visit, lest they should think I had
purposely avoided them. Have you spoken with them already?"
"Oh yes. We are on very good terms with one another."
Lorand sacrificed the caution he had once exercised in never writing a
word to Desiderius about Melanie. It seemed Desi did not run after her
either; what had his childish ideal come to? Another ideal had taken its
place.
"Besides, seeing that Gyali is the ladies' solicitor, and seeing that
you, my dear friend, have '_manupropria_' despatched Gyali out of
Szolnok--he immediately took the post-chaise and is already in Pest, or
perhaps farther--it is your official duty to give an explanation to
those who are waiting for their solicitor and to tell them where you
have put their man--if you have courage enough to do so."
Desiderius at first drew back, but later his calm confidence and courage
immediately confirmed his resolution.
"What do you say,--if I have courage? You shall soon see. And you shall
see, too, what a lawyer-like defence I am able to improvise. I wager
that if I put the case before them, they will give the verdict in our
favor."
"Do so, I beseech you," said Lorand, soliciting his brother with
humorously clasped hands.
"I shall do so."
"Well be quick: get your hat, and let us go."
Desiderius with determined steps went in search of his hat.
Czipra laughed after him. She saw how ridiculous it would be. He was
going to calumniate the bridegroom before the bride. With what words she
herself did not know: but she gathered from the gentlemen's talk that
Gyali had been driven from the company the night before for some
flagrant dishonor. Since two days she too had detested that fellow.
Lorand meanwhile gazed after his brother with eyes flashing with a
desire for vengeance.
Topandy grasped Lorand's hand.
"If I believed in cherubim, I should say: a persecuting angel had taken
up his abode in you, to whisper that idea to you. Do you know,
Desiderius is the very double of what your father was when he came home
from the academy: the same face, figure, depth of voice, the same
lightning fire in his eyes, and that same murderous frown, and you are
now going to take that boy before Sarvoelgyi that he may relate an awful
story of a man who wished to murder a good friend in the most devilish
manner, just as he did!"
"Hush! Desi of that knows not a word."
"So much the better. A living being, who does not suspect that to the
man whom he is visiting, he is the most horrible phantom from the other
world! The murdered father, risen up in the son!--It will make me
acknowledge one of the ideas I have hitherto denied--the existence of
hell."
Desiderius returned.
"Look at us, my dear Czipra," said Lorand to the girl, who was always
fluttering around him: "are we handsome enough? Will the eyes of the
beautiful rest upon us?"
"Go," answered Czipra, pushing Lorand in playful anger, "as if you
didn't know yourselves! Rather take care you don't get lost there. Such
handsome fellows are readily snapped up."
"No, Czipra, we shall return to you," said Lorand, pressing Czipra so
tenderly to him, that Desiderius considered as superfluous any further
questions as to why Lorand had brought him there. He approved his
brother's choice: the girl was beautiful, natural, good-humored and, so
it seemed, in love with him. What more could be required?--"Don't be
afraid, Czipra; nobody's beautiful blue eyes shall detain us there."
"I was not afraid for your sakes of beautiful eyes," replied Czipra,
"but of Mistress Boris's pies:--such pies cannot be got here."
Thereat all three laughed--finally Desiderius too, though he did not
know what kind of mythological monster such a sadly bewitched cake might
be, which came from Mistress Boris's hand.
Topandy embraced the two young fellows. He was sorry he could not
accompany them, but begged Lorand notwithstanding to remain as long as
he liked.
Czipra followed them to the door. Lorand there grasped her hand, and
tenderly kissed it. The girl did not know whether to be ashamed or
delighted.
Thrice did Lorand turn round, before they reached Sarvoelgyi's home, to
wave his hand to Czipra.
Desiderius did not require any further enlightenment on that point. He
thought he understood all quite well.
* * * * *
Mistress Boris meanwhile had a fine job at her house.
"He was a fool who conceived the idea of ordering a banquet for an
indefinite time:--not to know whether he, for whom one must wait, will
come at one, at two, at three,--in the evening, or after midnight."
Twenty times she ran out to the door to see whether he was coming
already or not. Every sound of carriage wheels, every dog-bark enticed
her out into the road, from whence she returned each time more furious,
pouring forth invectives over the spoiling of all her dishes.
"Perhaps that gypsy girl again! Devil take the gypsy girl! She is quite
capable of giving this guest a breakfast there first, and then letting
him go. It would be madness surely, seeing that the town gentleman is
the fiance of the young lady here: but the gypsy girl too has cursed
bright eyes. Besides she is very cunning, capable of bewitching any man.
The damned gypsy girl,--her spells make her cakes always rise
beautifully, while mine wither away in the boiling fat--although they
are made of the same flour, and the same yeast."
It would not have been good for any one of the domestics to show herself
within sight of Mistress Borcsa[73] at that moment.
[Footnote 73: Boris.]
"Well, my master has again burdened me with a guest who thinks the clock
strikes midday in the evening. It was a pity he did not invite him for
yesterday, in that case he might have turned up to-day. Why, I ought to
begin cooking everything afresh.
"I may say, he is a fine bridegroom for a young lady, who lets people
wait for him. If I were the bridegroom of such a beautiful young lady, I
should come to dinner half a day earlier, not half a day later. There
will be nice scenes, if he has his cooking ever done at home. But of
course at Vienna that is not the case, everybody lives on restaurant
fare. There one may dine at six in the afternoon. At any rate, what
midday diners leave is served up again for the benefit of later
comers:--thanks, very much."
Finally the last bark which Mistress Boris did not deign even to notice
from the kitchen, heralded the approach of manly footsteps in the
verandah: and when in answer to the bell Mistress Boris rushed to the
door, to her great astonishment she beheld, not the gentleman from
Vienna, but the one from across the way, with a strange young gentleman.
"May I speak with the master?" inquired Lorand of the fiery Amazon.
"Of course. He is within. Haven't you brought the gentleman from
Vienna?"
"He will only come after dinner," said Lorand, who dared to jest even
with Mistress Boris.
Then they went in, leaving Mistress Boris behind, the prey of doubt.
"Was it real or in jest? What do _they_ want here? Why did they not
bring him whom they took away? Will they remain here long?"
The whole party had gathered in the grand salon.
They too thought that the steps they heard brought the one they were
expecting--and very impatiently too.
Gyali had informed them he would take a carriage and return, as soon as
he could escape from the revelry at Szolnok. Melanie and her mother were
dressed in silk: on Melanie's wavy curls could be seen the traces of a
mother's careful hand: and Madame Balnokhazy herself made a very
impressive picture, while Sarvoelgyi had put on his very best.
They must have prepared for a very great festival here to-day!
But when the door opened before the three figures that courteously
hastened to greet the new-comer, and the two brothers stepped in, all
three smiling faces turned to expressions of alarm.
"You still dare to approach me?"--that was Melanie's alarm.
"You are not dead yet?" inquired Madame Balnokhazy's look of Lorand.
"You have risen again?" was the question to be read in Sarvoelgyi's fixed
stare that settled on Desiderius' face.
"My brother, Desiderius,"--said Lorand in a tone of unembarrassed
confidence, introducing his brother. "He heard from me of the ladies
being here, so perhaps Mr. Sarvoelgyi will pardon us, if, in accordance
with my brother's request, we steal a few moments' visit."
"With pleasure: please sit down. I am very glad to see you," said
Sarvoelgyi, in a husky tone, as if some invisible hand were choking his
throat.
"Desiderius has grown a big boy, has he not?" said Lorand, taking a seat
between Madame Balnokhazy and Melanie, while Desiderius sat opposite
Sarvoelgyi, who could not take his eyes off the lad.
"Big and handsome," affirmed Madame Balnokhazy. "How small he was when
he danced with Melanie!"
"And how jealous he was of certain persons!"
At these words three people hinted to Lorand not to continue, Madame
Balnokhazy, Melanie and Desiderius. How indiscreet these country people
are!
Desiderius found his task especially difficult, after such a beginning.
But Lorand was really in a good humor. The sight of his darling of
yesterday, dressed in such magnificence to celebrate the day on which
her poor wretched cast-off lover was to blow his brains out, roused such
a joy in his heart that it was impossible not to show it in his words.
So he continued:
"Yes, believe me: the lively scamp was actually jealous of me. He almost
killed me--yet we are very true to our memories."
Desiderius could not comprehend what madness had come over his brother,
that he wished to bring him and Melanie together into such a false
position. Perhaps it would be good to start the matter at once and
interrupt the conversation.
On Madame Balnokhazy's face could be read a certain contemptuous scorn,
when she looked at Lorand, as if she would say: "Well, after all, prose
has conquered the poetry of honor, a man may live after the day of his
death, if he has only the phlegm necessary thereto. Flight is shameful
but useful,--yet you are as good as killed for all that."
This scorn would soon be wiped away from that beautiful face.
"Mesdames," said Desiderius in cold tranquillity. "Beyond paying my
respects, I have another reason which made it my duty to come here. I
must explain why your solicitor has not returned to-day, and why he will
not return for some time."
"Great Heavens! No misfortune has befallen him?" cried Madame Balnokhazy
in nervous trepidation.
"On that point you may be quite reassured, Madame: he is hale and
healthy; only a slight change in his plans has taken place: he is just
now flying west instead of east."
"What can be the reason?"
"I am the cause, which drove him away, I must confess."
"You?" said Madame Balnokhazy, astonished.
"If you will allow me, and have the patience for it, I will go very far
back in history to account for this peculiar climax."
Lorand remarked that Melanie was not much interested to hear what they
were saying of Gyali. She was indifferent to him: why, they were already
affianced.
So he began to say pretty things to her: went into raptures about her
beautiful curls, her blooming complexion, and various other things which
it costs nothing to praise.
As long as he had been her lover, he had never told her how beautiful
she was. She might have understood his meaning. Those whom we flatter we
no longer love.
Desiderius continued the story he had begun.
"Just ten years have passed since they began to prosecute the young men
of the Parliament in Pressburg on account of the publication of the
Parliamentary journal. There was only one thing they could not find out,
viz:--who it was that originally produced the first edition to be
copied: at last one of his most intimate friends betrayed the young man
in question."
"That is ancient history already, my dear boy," said Madame Balnokhazy
in a tone of indifference.
"Yet its consequences have an influence even to this day; and I beg you
kindly to listen to my story to the end, and then pass a verdict on it.
You must know your men."
(What an innocent child Desiderius was! Why, he did not seem even to
suspect that the man of whom he spoke was the designated son-in-law of
Madame Balnokhazy.)
"The one, who was betrayed by his friend, was my brother Lorand, and the
one who betrayed his friend, was Gyali."
"That is not at all certain," said Madame. "In such cases appearances
and passion often prove deceptive mirrors. It is possible that someone
else betrayed Mr. Aronffy, perhaps some fickle woman, to whom he babbled
of all his secrets and who handed it on to her ambitious husband as a
means of supporting his own merits."
"I know positively that my assertion is correct," answered Desiderius,
"for a magnanimous lady, who guarded my brother with her fairy power,
hearing of this betrayal from her influential husband, informed Lorand
thereof in a letter written by her own hand."
Madame Balnokhazy bit her lips. The undeserved compliment smote her to
the heart. She was the magnanimous fairy, of whom Desiderius spoke, and
that fickle woman of whom she had spoken herself. The barrister was a
master of repartee.
Melanie, fortunately, did not hear this, for Lorand just then
entertained her with a wonderful story: how that, curiously enough, when
the young lady had been at Topandy's, the hyacinths had been covered
with lovely clusters of fairy bells, and how, one week later, their
place had been taken by ugly clusters of berries. How could flowers
change so suddenly?
"Very well," said Madame Balnokhazy, "let us admit that when Gyali and
Aronffy were students together, the one played the traitor on the other.
What happened then?"
"I only learned last night what really happened. That evening I was on a
visit to Lorand, and found Gyali there. They appeared to be joking. They
playfully disputed as to who, at the farewell dance, was to be the
partner of that very honorable lady, who may often be seen in your
company. The two students disputed in my presence as to who was to dance
with the 'aunt.'"
"Of course, as a piece of unusual good fortune."
"Naturally. As neither wished to give the other preference, they finally
decided to entrust the verdict to lot; on the table was a small piece of
paper, the only writing material to be found in Lorand's room after a
careful rummaging, as all the rest had just been burned. This piece of
lilac-colored paper was torn in two, and both wrote one name: these two
pieces they put in a hat and called upon me to draw out one. I did so
and read out Lorand's name."
"Do you intend to relate how your brother enjoyed himself at that
dance?"
Melanie had not heard anything.
"I have no intention of saying a single word more about that day--and I
shall at once leap over ten years. But I must hasten to explain that the
drawing had nothing to do with dancing with the 'aunt' but was the
lottery of an 'American duel' caused by a conflict between Gyali and
Lorand."
Desiderius did not remark how the coppery spots on Sarvoelgyi's face
swelled at the words "American duel," and then how they lost their color
again.
"One moment, my dear boy," interrupted Madame Balnokhazy. "Before you
continue: allow me to ask one question: is it customary to speak in
society of duels that have not yet taken place?"
"Certainly, if one of the principals has by his cowardly conduct made
the duel impossible."
"Cowardly conduct?" said Madame Balnokhazy, darting a piercing side
glance at Lorand. "That applies to you."
But Lorand was just relating to Melanie how the day-before-yesterday,
when the beautiful moonlight shone upon the piano, which had remained
open as the young lady had left it, soft fairy voices began suddenly to
rise from it. Though that was surely no spirit playing on the keys, but
Czipra's tame white weasel that, hunting night moths, ran along them.
"Yes," said Desiderius in answer to the lady. "One of the principals who
accepted the condition gave evidence of such conduct on that occasion as
must shut him out from all honorable company. Gyali wrote in forged
writing on that ticket the name of Lorand instead of his own."
Madame Balnokhazy incredulously pursed her lips.
"How can you prove that?"
"I did not cast into the fire, as Gyali bade me, the two tickets, but
in their stead the dance programme I had brought with me, the two
tickets I put away and have kept until to-day, suspecting that perhaps
there might be some rather important reason for this calculating
slyness."
"Pardon me; but a very serious charge is being raised against an absent
person, who cannot defend himself, and to defend whom is therefore the
duty of the next and nearest person, even at the price of great
indulgence. Have you any proof, any authentic evidence, that either one
of the tickets you have kept is forged?"
Madame Balnokhazy had gone to great extremes in doubting the
faithfulness and truth-telling of a man,--but rather too far. She had to
deal with a barrister.
"The similarity admits of no doubt, Madame. Since these two slips are
nothing but two halves that fit together, of that same letter in which
Lorand's good-hearted fairy informed him of Gyali's treachery; on the
opposite side of the slips is still to be seen the handwriting of that
deeply honored lady: the date and watermark are still on them."
Madame's bosom heaved with anger. This youth of twenty-three had
annihilated her just as calmly, as he would have burnt that piece of
paper of which they were speaking.
Desiderius quietly produced his pocket-book and rummaged for the fatal
slips of paper.
"Never mind. I believe it," panted Madame Balnokhazy, whose face in that
moment was like a furious Medusa head. "I believe what you say. I have
no doubts about it:" therewith she rose from her seat and turned to the
window.
Desiderius too rose from his chair, seeing the sitting was interrupted,
but could not resist the temptation of pouring out the overflowing
bitterness of his heart before somebody; and, as Madame was displeased
and Melanie was chatting with Lorand of trifles, he was obliged to
address his words directly to his only hearer, to Sarvoelgyi, who
remained still sitting, like one enchanted, while his gaze rested ever
upon Desiderius' face. This face, drunken with rage and terror, could
not tear itself from the object of its fears.
"And this fellow has allowed his dearest friend to go through life for
ten years haunted with the thought of death, has allowed him to hide
himself in strangers' houses, avoiding his mother's embraces. It did not
occur to him once to say 'Live on; don't persecute yourself; we were
children, we have played together. I merely played a joke on you.'..."
Sarvoelgyi turned livid with a deathly pallor.
"Sir, you are a Christian, who believes in God, and in those who are
saints: tell me, is there any torture of hell that could be punishment
enough for so ruining a youth?"
Sarvoelgyi tremblingly strove to raise himself on his quivering hand. He
thought his last hour had come.
"There is none!" answered Desiderius to himself. "This fellow kept his
hatred till the last day, and when the final anniversary came, he
actually sought out his victim to remind him of his awful obligation.
Oh, sir, perhaps you do not know what a terrible fatality there is in
this respect in our family? So died grandfather, so it was that our
dearly loved father left us; so good, so noble-hearted, but who in a
bitter moment, amidst the happiness of his family turned his hand
against his own life. At night we stealthily took him out to burial.
Without prayer, without blessing, we put him down into the crypt, where
he filled the seventh place; and that night my grandmother, raving,
cursed him who should occupy the eighth place in the row of
blood-victims."
Sarvoelgyi's face became convulsed like that of a galvanized corpse.
Desiderius thought deep sympathy had so affected the righteous man and
continued all the more passionately:
"That fellow, who knew it well, and who was acquainted with our family's
unfortunate ill-luck, in cold blood led his friend to the eighth coffin,
to the cursed coffin--with the words 'Lie down there in it!'"
Sarvoelgyi's lips trembled as if he would cry "pity: say nothing more!"
"He went with him down to the gate of death, opened the dark door before
him, and asked him banteringly 'is the pistol loaded?' and when Lorand
took his place amid the revellers: bade him fulfil his obligation--the
perjured hound called him to his obligation!"
Sarvoelgyi, all pale, rose at this awful scene:--for all the world as if
Loerincz Aronffy himself had come to relate the history of his own death
to his murderer.
"Then I seized Lorand's arm with my one hand, and with the other held
before the wretch's eyes the evidence of his cursed falseness. His evil
conscience bade him fly. I reached him, seized his throat...."
Sarvoelgyi in abject terror sank back in his chair, while Madame
Balnokhazy, rushing from the window, passionately cried "and killed
him?"
Desiderius, gazing haughtily at her, answered calmly: "No, I merely cast
him out from the society of honorable men."
To Lorand it was a savage pleasure to look at those three faces, as
Desiderius spoke. The dumb passion which inflamed Madame Balnokhazy's
face, the convulsive terror on the features of the fatal adversary,
strove with each other to fill his heart with a great delight.
And Melanie? What had she felt during this narration, which made such an
ugly figure of the man to whom fate allotted her?
Lorand's eyes were intent upon her face too.
The young girl was not so transfixed by the subject of the tale as by
the speaker. Desiderius in the heat of passion, was twice as handsome as
he was otherwise. His every feature was lighted with noble passion. Who
knows--perhaps the beautiful girl was thinking it would be no very
pleasant future to be the bride of Gyali after such a scandal! Perhaps
there returned to her memory some fragments of those fair days at
Pressburg, when she and Desiderius had sighed so often side by side.
That boy had been very much in love with his beautiful cousin. He was
more handsome and more spirited than his brother. Perhaps her thoughts
were such. Who knows?
At any rate, it is certain that when Desiderius answered Madame's
question with such calm contempt--"I cast him out, I did not kill
him,"--on Melanie's face could be remarked a certain radiance, though
not caused by delight that her fiance's life had been spared.
Lorand remarked it, and hastened to spoil the smile.
"Certainly you would have killed him, Desi, had not your good angel,
your dear Fanny, luckily for you, intervened, and grasped your arm,
saying 'this hand is mine. You must not defile it.'"
The smile disappeared from Melanie's face.
"And now," said Desiderius, addressing his remarks directly to
Sarvoelgyi; "be my judge, sir. What had a man, who with such sly
deception, with such cold mercilessness, desired to kill, to destroy, to
induce a heart in which the same blood flows as in mine--to commit a
crime against the living God, what, I ask, had such a man deserved from
me? Have I not a right to drive that man from every place, where he
dares to appear in the light of the sun, until I compel him to walk
abroad at night when men do not see him, among strangers who do not know
him;--to destroy him morally with just as little mercy as he displayed
towards Lorand?--Would that be a crime?"
"Great Heavens! Something has happened to Mr. Sarvoelgyi," cried Madame
Balnokhazy suddenly.
And indeed Sarvoelgyi was very pale, his limbs were almost powerless, but
he did not faint. He put his hands behind him, lest they should remark
how they trembled, and strove to smile.
"Sir," he said in a hesitating voice, which often refused to serve him:
"although I have nothing to say against it, yet you have told your story
at an unfortunate time and in an ill-chosen place:--this young lady is
Mr. Gyali's fiancee and to-day we had prepared for the wedding."
"I am heartily glad that I prevented it," said Desiderius, without being
in the least disturbed at this discovery. "I think I am doing my
relations a good service by staying them at the point where they would
have fallen over a precipice."
"You are a master-hand at that," said Madame Balnokhazy with scornful
bitterness. She remembered how he had done her a service by a similar
intervention--just ten years ago. "Well, as you have succeeded so
perfectly in rescuing us from the precipice, perhaps we may hope for the
honor of your presence at the friendly conclusion of this spoiled
matrimonial banquet?"
Madame Balnokhazy's wandering life had whetted her cynicism.
It was a direct hint for them to go.
"We are very much obliged for the kind invitation," replied Lorand
courteously, paying her back in the same coin of sweetness, "but they
are expecting us at home."
"Hearts too, which one may not trifle with," continued Desiderius.
"Then, of course, we should not think of stealing you away," continued
Madame Balnokhazy, touched to the quick. "Kindly greet, in our names,
dear Czipra and dear Fanny. We are very fond indeed of the good girls,
and wish you much good fortune with them. The arms of Aronffy, too, find
an explanation therein: the half-moon will in one case mean a
horse-shoe, in the other a bread-roll. Adieu, dear Lorand! Adieu, dear
Desi!"
Then arm-in-arm they departed and hurried home to Topandy's house.
Madame's last outburst had thrown Desiderius into an entirely good
humor. That was the first thing about which he began to converse with
Topandy. Madame Balnokhazy had congratulated the Aronffy arms on the
possession of a "horse-shoe" and a "roll," a gypsy girl and a baker's
daughter!
But Lorand did not laugh at it:--what a fathomless deep hatred that
woman must treasure in her heart against him, that she could break out
so! And was she not right that woman who had desired the young man to
embrace her, and thus embracing her to rush on to the precipice, into
shame and death, and damnation, if he could love really:--had she no
right to scorn, him who had fled before the romantic crimes of passion
and had allowed her to fall alone?
At dinner Desiderius related to Topandy what he had said at Sarvoelgyi's.
His face beamed like that of some young student who was glorying in his
first duel.
But he could not understand the effect his narration had caused.
Topandy's face became suddenly more determined, more serious; he gazed
often at Lorand.
Once Desiderius too looked up at his brother, who was wiping his
tear-stained eyes with his handkerchief.
"You are weeping?" inquired Desiderius.
"What are you thinking of? I was only wiping my brow. Continue your
story."
When they rose from table Topandy called Lorand aside.
"This young fellow knows nothing of what I related to you?"
"Absolutely nothing."
"So he has not the slightest suspicion that in that moment he plunged
the knife into the heart of his father's murderer?"
"No. Nor shall he ever know it. A double mission has been entrusted to
us, to be happy and to wreak vengeance. Neither of us can undertake both
at once. He has started to be happy, his heart is full of sweetness, he
is innocent, unsuspicious, enthusiastic: let him be happy: God forbid
his days should be poisoned by such agonizing thoughts as will not let
me rest!--I am enough myself for revenge, embittered as I am from head
to foot. The secret is known only to us, to grandmother and the Pharisee
himself. We shall complete the reckoning without the aid of happy men."