Wherein occur such astounding transformations that
people are scarcely able to recognize their very
selves. Michal, however, is calumniated in a matter
wherein she is absolutely innocent.
However great was the astonishment of Dame Sarah at Milly's rapid
proficiency in the culinary and other female sciences, it was as
nothing compared with the astonishment of the Countess Hommonai at
the swift apprehension of her pupil. You had only to read a passage
over to her once, and she immediately knew it by heart, and what is
more, never again forgot it. She could repeat one hundred foreign
words after hearing them pronounced for the first time. "This young
woman is a genius," said the countess to her husband. She had no
idea that her pupil had learnt long ago what she was now teaching
her.
Moreover, the countess gradually weaned her from all her boorish
habits, and accustomed her to polite manners, which Milly
appropriated all the more readily as they were what she had always
been used to, whereas her rusticity was a mere disguise and
pretense.
Wonderful, too, was the scientific progress which Milly brought
about in worthy Valentine, her husband.
For Valentine had taken her at her word, and made it the goal of his
ambition to obtain the post of castellan, so that his wife might
enjoy the title of châtelaine. And wondrous indeed were his advances
on the path of learning. Perhaps, too, Valentine might have proved
an apter scholar in his younger days if grammar and syntax had only
been recited to him by such sweet lips, and if the _hic_, _hæc_,
_hoc_ had been impressed upon him with sweet kisses instead of with
_ferula_ and _signum_. Perhaps, too, the stronger will that goes
hand in hand with mental maturity helped him more quickly onward.
After some months he had got on so well that he could not only
clearly expound the Latin and German letters which the count laid
before him, but could even reply to them; nay, even in French he got
so far that no one could have cheated him in a bargain conducted in
that language.
So Milly was instructed by the countess, and Valentine was
instructed by Milly, and all three took delight in the progress that
was being made.
"What a pity it is," said the countess to her husband on one
occasion, "that such a clever, highly endowed young woman, who has
such a fine figure, such good features, and such a pleasant manner,
should be disfigured by so many hideous freckles. If only we could
remedy this evil! I have a wash, the famous Aqua Regina, which dates
from the days of Elizabeth, the mother of our king, Louis the Great;
my face is quite smooth and soft from using it--let us try it on
her, perhaps it will do something to remove these hideous freckles."
Milly dared not assent at once, but said she must first ask her
husband if he wished her face to be free from freckles, as it was
with her freckled face that he had fallen in love originally. She
must also communicate beforehand with her mother-in-law, as that
lady might possibly regard her daughter-in-law's endeavor to
beautify her face as a species of coquetry.
But both Valentine and his mother acquiesced in the experiment. They
said that a medicament which the countess used herself could not
possibly do Milly any harm.
The disfiguring freckles which had been produced by the juice of the
euphorbia naturally vanished from Michal's face after she had washed
herself twice or thrice with the Aqua Regina. In a few days she had
quite a different appearance. She got a white and red complexion,
and a skin as pure as dew. The countess was triumphant with joy that
her wash should have produced such a marvelous effect, and Dame
Sarah also was beside herself with astonishment when she saw her
daughter-in-law growing daily in grace and beauty; but the happiest
of all was Valentine, as he gradually won back his adored Michal,
whom he regarded as the fairest, best, and wisest woman in the whole
world.
The ladies of Kassa, however, were by no means disposed to regard
this wondrous transformation with favorable eyes. At that time (now,
of course, it is quite different) the complexions of the fair Kassa
burgesses, owing to the bad spring water, the close air, the sour
wine, but also and especially to the plague which broke out there on
the average every seven years--the complexions of the fair Kassa
burgesses, I say, were then of that peculiar yellowish tinge which
in the faces of the Venetian ladies is called _morbidezza_, but
which in Hungary usually went by the name of the Kassa color. Lest,
however, we should be saddled with the charge of calumny, we hasten,
in our justification, to cite the following words from one of the
original sources of our present history: "The people, more
particularly the women folk, are of a pale and yellow color, which
in Hungary is called the Kassa color." (_Vide_ Johan Christopher
Wagner's "Town and History Mirror," 1687.)
That, however, was two hundred years ago. Nowadays, the complexion
of the ladies of Kassa, like the complexions of their fair sisters
elsewhere, consists of roses and lilies; and it is also no longer
true what the same author says of the wine of Kassa, to wit, that it
gives foreigners the gout.
Now when the women at morning service in church on Christmas Day
perceived Milly sitting demurely in the countess's pew, they were
scandalized beyond expression at her red and white cheeks, on which
not the smallest freckle was to be seen.
They could not of course insult her to her face, because her
distinguished patroness was present; but they put their heads
together in the vestry, and quitted it with the steadfast
determination to submit the case to the consideration of the dean.
Dame Fürmender took it upon herself to be the mouthpiece of the
pious sisterhood. She informed the dean that a young woman had come
to church that very morning with her cheeks painted white and red,
which lewd and unchristian conduct had sorely troubled the whole of
the pious congregation.
There was service again in the afternoon, when the very reverend
gentleman was wont to catechize. For in those days it was the custom
for young persons, both bachelors and spinsters, and especially
young married people from foreign parts, to be called forth into the
midst of the congregation and be catechized by the very reverend
gentleman in front of the Lord's Table; so that it might be made
manifest whether they were well grounded in the principles of the
creed and the confession, and also that they might confess publicly,
before the whole church, that they belonged to the true evangelical
Christian faith; lest at the distribution of the Lord's Supper, on
the following day, the bread and wine might be given to such as did
not even know why the sacred elements were so given, or lest those
should communicate who were morally unworthy so to do.
The first person whom the very reverend gentleman called up that
afternoon was the young wife of Valentine Kalondai.
Milly rose from her place and stepped modestly but fearlessly
forward. She felt quite secure, for she knew her whole catechism by
heart. It came as easy to her as the Paternoster.
But great was her astonishment when the very reverend gentleman,
instead of questioning her on the mystery of the Trinity or as to
the necessity of communicating in both kinds, roughly addressed her
as follows:
"Dost thou know, pious Christian lady! the commandment of God which
forbids all the faithful daughters of his Church to make of the face
which he of his grace has given to each one of them, another face
after the manner of the heathen, by anointing it with all kinds of
false and meretricious salves as the daughters of Midian were wont
to do?"
Milly answered with a perfectly clear conscience:
"I know it."
"Then, if thou knowest it, wherefore doest thou the contrary?"
"My countenance is just as God has made it," replied Milly, with a
tranquil heart.
"If what thou hast said be true, come wash thyself herein!"
The very reverend gentleman beckoned, and the sacristan placed on
the marble font a large silver basin full of crystal clear water.
Milly most willingly washed her face in the basin, and after she had
done so, the water was as pure as it had been before.
"And now wipe thy face with this!"
With that he handed the young woman a towel, with which she rubbed
her face all over with all her might, yet not the smallest trace of
anything red or white was to be seen upon the snowy napkin, while
her face had only become rosier than ever from the scrubbing.
The dean was astonished.
"How comes it," cried he, "that thy face, which was once so full of
freckles, is now without a single speck upon it?"
"Freckles always disappear in winter," answered Milly.
And that was no more than the truth. From many faces freckles
disappear in winter, and it was just then the very depth of winter.
At this, the very reverend gentleman grew very wroth. He struck the
table violently with his book, and stretching forth his hand,
exclaimed:
"Then thou hast been foully calumniated by thine accuser, Dame
Fürmender, the wife of Augustus Zwirina, who, by way of punishment
for such a calumny, is excluded from to-morrow's communion."
Dame Fürmender, who was sitting in the corner of the front pew,
where everyone could see it, got up, courtesied, and went straight
out of the church.
But the dean kept Michal back in order to catechize her, and began
to put various questions to her, which she answered so promptly and
so correctly that he was perfectly delighted. He absolutely could
not leave off catechizing her.
He went out of his way to find harder and ever harder questions, to
every one of which the lady nevertheless found an appropriate
answer, so that at last the audience began to whisper to each other
that the maids of Bártfa must be as learned as chaplains. Finally
the dean sent her back to her place with a warm eulogy and his
benediction.
Thus the day on which Michal was to have been put to shame ended
with her exaltation and the utter discomfiture of her calumniators.
Dame Sarah was naturally triumphant, but she was not more delighted
than the good Countess Hommonai, who justly imagined that Michal had
her to thank for all her knowledge.
And the countess was quite right in thinking so, for though it is
true that Milly had originally received her beauty and her wisdom
from God, nevertheless, both her bodily and her spiritual
excellences had been so completely killed and buried by the
contrarieties of fate that their resurrection might well be regarded
as the work of the countess.