Which teaches that outward beauty, be it never so
precious a property, is often most dangerous to its
possessor.
From this time forth, Valentine, by virtue of his new office, daily
visited the commandant's house, where he was always a welcome guest.
In the townhall also, he was held in high honor.
The land, just then, was in very difficult circumstances. A town
like Kassa, shut in between three distinct masters and anxious to
please all three, without giving such a preference to any one of
them as might offend the other two, had a very hard time of it. By
virtue of the pacification putting an end to the late religious
wars, Kassa fell within the jurisdiction of George Rakoczy, Prince
of Transylvania, whose Suzerain was the Turkish Sultan. But the
pashas of Eger and Grosswardein often took it into their heads to
make predatory raids on their own account as far as Kassa and Tokay,
and then the good people of Kassa could not wait, as it is the
fashion nowadays, till the English had held indignation meetings to
protest against the Turkish atrocities; but they forthwith mounted
their steeds, seized their weapons, and smote the troops of their
own Prince's Suzerain; and this they often did, moreover, in concert
with their adversaries the Hungarians of that portion of the kingdom
of Hungary which belonged to the Kaiser. In those days, therefore,
it required no small discrimination to judge accurately which of the
many strangers passing to and fro were to be reckoned with as
friends, and which as foes; which could be put off with promises,
and which had really to be sent away with presents; which might
merely be threatened with stripes, and which ought really to get
them.
Now at this very time, there came from that part of the land which
both Hungary and Transylvania claimed as their own, a person of
great distinction, Belisarius Zurdoki by name. One of his ancestors
had returned to Hungary from Wallachia with great treasures, and
this his descendant had also the reputation of being a very rich
man.
Zurdoki made a great display at Kassa. He said he had come to visit
Count Hommonai, with whom he was distantly connected on his mother's
side. He brought quite a court with him, equerries, pages, a
secretary, a chaplain, a huntsman, a master of the hounds, a jester,
gypsy musicians, a falconer, heydukes, couriers, domestics, lackeys,
coachmen--in fact, there was no counting the multitude he brought in
his train. He took up so much space in Count Hommonai's castle that
there was no room left for its lawful owners.
And all the time he resided at Kassa, he did nothing but give
splendid entertainments. There was absolutely no end to them.
Belisarius Zurdoki was already over sixty, but though his age was
venerable, he had no very extraordinary reputation for morality. He
had had so many wives, morganatic and otherwise, to say nothing of
those from whom he had been separated, that he himself no longer
recollected their proper sequence. He had little respect for the
sex, and held that there was not a woman in the world who could not
be bought with gifts, only some were more highly priced than others.
He himself, however, had not been in the way when beauty was being
served out. He had a broad, satyr face, with a red nose sinking
right down upon his mustache; his head, after the prevailing Turkish
fashion, was clean shaved, with the exception of a single gray lock
over his brows which bobbed up and down whenever he wagged his head.
His mustache hung down limp on both sides in the Turkish style, and
his stomach was not unlike a large beer barrel.
And yet he tried to make the world believe that he was such an
amiable man that the woman was yet to be born who could resist him,
be she never so young, beautiful, and accomplished.
That he was also smelling and purring around the Countess Isabella
Hommonai was patent to everyone, but the count would not for the
world have taken any notice of it. Yet he heartily laughed over it
all in secret with the countess, who made sport of the old rake, and
told her husband everything he said.
One day Zurdoki gave a great banquet at the castle, on which
occasion he brought out all his silver plate to make a goodly show,
and invited the whole of the civic notabilities. Pretty Michal was
there too, the prettiest of the whole company, and as she was
dressed very simply her beauty was, of course, all the more
striking. She was even lovelier than the countess herself. Her
natural refinement and smiling coyness could not be imitated by
those who did not possess those graces. With proud humility, she
wore over her wondrously beautiful tresses the matron's coif, which
showed that all this loveliness already had a master.
How the old voluptuary feasted his eyes upon this beautiful
apparition! He was all fire and flame instantly, like an old
worm-eaten tree stump, which blazes up whenever the young herdsmen
smoke the wasps out of its hollow trunk.
He had no longer a single look for the countess, but followed close
upon the heels of the beautiful châtelaine, though Valentine
occasionally, as if by accident, gave him a violent nudge in the
ribs with his elbow, or trod sharply on his foot with his spurred
boots.
At table, the enamored Zurdoki distinguished pretty Michal so very
markedly that all the women present whispered spiteful things to
each other about it. The countess was naturally an exception. She
only laughed at the coxcombry of the old inamorato, and was quite
persuaded beforehand that such a sage damsel as pretty Michal would
be more than a match for him.
After dinner, the martial and amatory airs which had been played
during the banquet were succeeded by dance music, and the guests
flocked into the dancing-room.
The Hungarian dances of those days were very different from the
dances we dance now. What are now called csardaszes and friszes were
then only danced at rustic weddings. At polite entertainments, the
dance consisted of slow and stately figures, accompanied by the
clash of colliding spurs, of rhythmical involutions, and evolutions,
with much extending of hands and kneeling on cushions, or, at most,
of a defiant manly stamping with the feet and majestic movements of
the body; not like our present system of dancing, when everyone
seems bent on jostling his neighbor into a corner, and makes a
whirligig of his partner. The earlier dances did very well for a
time, whose motto was, _Festina lente!_
The ball began with the minuet-like dance known as the palotas. It
was Zurdoki's duty as host to open the ball, and he lost no time in
doing so. With grandiose _aplomb_, he sauntered up to the fairest of
the fair, and held toward her a silken handkerchief as a sign that
he had chosen her for his partner. This was, indeed, a notable
distinction for Michal, especially as the countess was also present
in the saloon.
But pretty Michel did not accept the extended handkerchief, the
other corner of which she ought to have held so as to begin the
palotas, but bowed modestly, and said so that everyone could hear
it: "Your pardon, gracious sir! but I've only been a poor serving
maid and have never learnt dancing!"
And this was no more than the simple truth, for she certainly had
been a serving maid and never learnt dancing.
At this unexpected rebuff, Zurdoki became as red as a turkey cock,
and in his fury sought out the most hideous woman in the room. This
was old Dame Fürmender, and with her he opened the ball.
And during the whole of the dance he was cudgeling his brains as to
the meaning of pretty Michal's words. "She had not learnt to dance
because she was only a serving maid! Now serving maids can dance,
and dance very well too! Yet surely she must have spoken the truth,
for otherwise she would never have dared to publicly put to shame
her host when he invited her to dance. Who are the women who really
do not dance? Why, who but the daughters of Protestant pastors?"
Thus pretty Michal, when she said she could not dance, had already
betrayed a part of her secret. When once an old bloodhound has got a
scent, he will surely run down his prey!
* * * * *
As already mentioned, in consequence of an unfortunate episode in
the history of the city of Kassa, when a sheriff had attempted to
betray the city into the hands of the enemy, extra precautions had
been taken to prevent similar conspiracies in the future. One of
these precautions was that all letters brought by couriers from
abroad, to whomsoever they might be directed, should be first opened
by the magistrates, and only then handed over to their respective
owners. And to take away all appearance of espionage from this
precautionary measure, such letters were opened under the pretext of
fumigating them to avoid the infection of the plague. And fumigated
they certainly were, but the castellan used first to copy them and
communicate their contents to the commandant, who could thus keep a
watch upon the citizens, and prevent them from plotting behind his
back.
Zurdoki, too, during his residence at Kassa, received a foreign
letter which was delivered to him open and fumigated.
"You may try and spell out this letter as much as you like," laughed
the great man. "I warrant you won't be able to make much of it!"
And, indeed, it was a very curious epistle. In the first place the
letters were all so much mixed up together that you could see at a
glance that it was cipher writing.
Valentine recollected that the learned Professor David Fröhlich
possessed, among other sciences, the key of cipher writing. Perhaps
he had communicated this also to his daughter.
So he showed the letter to Michal.
Michal had indeed been initiated into the mystery of such writings,
and as at that time there were very few variations in cipher
writing, a person who held the key of one of them might very easily
decipher all the others; and in fact, Valentine succeeded, with the
aid of the key supplied to him by Michal, in deciphering the whole
letter.
But now a second difficulty arose. This letter was written in a
language which he had never seen before. It was like German, and yet
it was not German. He had again to apply to Michal, and asked her if
she understood this strange tongue.
"Yes! it is Swedish."
"What! you know Swedish too?"
"My father taught it me. He corresponded a good deal with the king
of Sweden, who supported our schools."
"Then translate me this letter."
Michal did as she was told, and Valentine then hastened with the
solved enigma to the commandant, Count Hommonai.
The letter contained very remarkable things. Count Hommonai had no
sooner taken note of its contents than he sent for Zurdoki.
"Sir!" he at once began, without so much as asking Zurdoki to take a
seat, "you are here with no good intention."
"How?" replied Zurdoki, attempting to give a jocose turn to the
matter. "Do you mean that I am perhaps a little too attentive to
some of your pretty little ladies here?"
"It is not a question of women, now, cousin! I allude to your
correspondence with the Swedish Minister."
"Well! let us hear what you make of it."
"I can tell you if you choose to listen. Your master is George
Rakoczy, prince of Transylvania."
"He is your master, also," retorted Zurdoki.
"Yes, to-day, perhaps, but he may not be so to-morrow. George
Rakoczy, not content with the good fortune of being lord of
Transylvania and of fifteen adjacent Hungarian counties, strives
after higher fame. Although on his accession he swore to the Estates
never to commence a war without their consent, he has nevertheless
interfered in the present dispute between Sweden and Poland, first
offering to assist Poland against Sweden in consideration of
receiving the thirteen towns of Zips; and now, when the Swedes have
entangled him in their net, he turns round and negotiates with them
through you, demanding no less a reward for his services than the
whole kingdom of Poland; and in order to gain the consent of the
German Emperor thereto, he now offers him the five Hungarian
counties on the other side of the Theiss."
"I deny the truth of that," blustered Zurdoki. "All that is mere
sophistical gabble."
"Here you have the contents of the letter which the Swedish Minister
writes to you. Read it!" said Hommonai, handing him the copied
letter.
Zurdoki was dumfounded.
"Whence did you get this? Who is there in Kassa that can read
cipher? Who understands Swedish here, I should like to know?"
"Why, my castellan, of course."
"What! that butcher boy! that expelled student?"
But for all that he could no longer deny the contents of the letter.
And now Count Hommonai spoke very sharply to Mr. Zurdoki. He told
him it would be a piece of folly on the part of the Prince of
Transylvania to attack Poland with the Cossacks, on whose friendship
no one could depend, whereas the Poles had always been good
neighbors. Transylvania and Hungary had quite enough to do at home.
They should sweep the dust off their own thresholds, and not meddle
with the affairs of other lands. We should only be too glad to be
able to defend ourselves against the foes we actually have, and not
try and saddle ourselves with fresh ones. Besides, an enterprise so
foolishly begun could not possibly have any good issue. The German
Emperor would not approve of it because the Pole was his ally. The
Sultan, too, would refuse his consent, and the end of it would be
that George Rakoczy would lose the five counties without receiving
anything in return. Nay, he might at last even lose his
Transylvanian throne also.
Like every ill-bred fellow when he is driven into a corner, Zurdoki
now took refuge in low abuse. He insisted that he was right. He
raised his voice. He asked how they dared to break open his private
letters, and what business the Commandant of Kassa had to criticise
the plans of the Prince of Transylvania. Let the commandant look to
his patrolling and leave politics to his superiors.
"And I mean to show you," retorted Hommonai, "that the city of Kassa
also has to do with politics. If George Rakoczy thinks fit to
exchange Hungarian counties for a kingdom, the city of Kassa will
also think fit to shut its gates against all suspected persons who
cannot give a good account of themselves. As for you, sir, you are
my kinsman, and I have hitherto willingly seen you in my house. But
I now beg to inform you that your carriage is waiting, and nothing
prevents you from taking your departure immediately."
That was indeed a snub! What! to refuse hospitality to a guest!
Zurdoki could not swallow that calmly. He stuck out his chest and
said haughtily to Hommonai:
"Look ye, my lord Count! You know as well as I do the real reason
why you drive me out of your house. It is because you fear I might
be dangerous to your dear wife!"
Hommonai was a finished gentleman. Even in his insults he was
exquisite.
"I have a book which I will send you at once," said he to Zurdoki;
"if you look into it attentively, you will find that it is really
quite impossible for me to be jealous of you."
Zurdoki was very curious to see this odd book. He could scarcely
wait patiently for the heyduke to bring it to him. It was bound in
heavy morocco covers, and when Zurdoki opened them he found nothing
inside but a mirror. In that he read that Hommonai could not be
jealous of so ugly a face as his.
He dashed the mirror to the ground and rode away from Kassa that
very day. The goal of his journey was his castle at Saros.