Now what had really happened to the coach was that it had lost one of
the big screws out of the hind wheel, so that the latter had come off.
For a whole hour had they hunted for the screw without success, and then
they tried to get on without it, but that was a difficult business. If a
peasant loses a wheel-nail, he can easily find a substitute; the screw
of a coach, however, is not so easily replaced. What straps and ropes
they had to hand were knotted and wound round the axle, but the quickly
rotating nave had in a few minutes torn all to shreds, and would not go
round properly, much to the detriment of the horses who now had to drag
the lumbering conveyance with a wheel that would not work, through the
tough, sticky morass, which made the way much more toilsome.
Not that this affected the merry mood of the president as he took his
place inside. Every now and again he whistled for sheer lightness of
heart.
"Fire away, there!" he cried to the driver.
But the driver was not equal to the task, as he urged his steeds over
the morass through which the four slow old hacks dragged the rickety
vehicle with its broken-down wheel.
Meanwhile, on a hillock which rose tolerably steep from the roadside,
waited a horseman mounted on a strong wiry beast, that stood with his
muzzle snuffing the ground like a setter scenting the trail, with
watchful eyes and pricked ears, but so still that he did not even brush
off the flies that settled on his withers and flanks. The man himself in
the saddle was equally motionless; he was dark and hawk-eyed, with curly
hair, and a tapering pointed moustache. He wore a peasant's garb that
was scrupulously fine of its kind, his countryman's cloak being richly
embroidered, and his sleeves frilled with wide lace. In his cap he wore
a cluster of locks of women's hair and a knot of artificial flowers; at
his girdle gleamed a pair of silver inlaid Turkish pistols, while from
the pommel of his saddle hung another, double-barrelled, and in his
right hand he carried an axe. An alder-bush had hidden the stranger up
till now, so that he could not be seen by the coaching party till he
himself hailed them.
"Now you traitor, you knave, are you going to stop or not?"
Was the coachman going to stop? Yes indeed, he sprang down from his box
in terror, promptly crawled under the coach, and whimpered, "Alack, your
honour, it's Gyongyom Miska himself, it is indeed!"
The mounted cavalier pranced up to the coach, the noble charger tossing
his proud head to and fro, so that the harness-fringe flew round him.
"Now we've got something to laugh at and no mistake," growled the
coachman. Yet he laughed too in spite of himself.
The highwayman himself began to laugh as he accosted the president.
"So you've recognised me, have you, for the celebrated Gyongyom Miska?"
"How pray did you become Gyongyom Miska?"
"Don't you remember me by that name? You yourself gave it me. Have you
forgotten how when, years ago, in the County Assembly, I had begun a
speech, you called out to me in the middle of it, 'Ay, Gyongyom (my
jewel), hold your peace; you understand no more of these things than
half a dozen oxen put together,' so that I could not get any 'forrader,'
for people laughing at me. Since those days the name has stuck to me.
Everywhere I go I am received with the greeting, 'Here's Gyongyom Miska,
worse luck!' So then, I say to myself, 'I'll be a Gyongyom Miska,' and
show them such things as no one else can. And people talk about me,
don't they?"
"But you won't rob me, will you?" implored his victim. "Do you want my
horses?"
"Make your mind easy. I rob nobody. I only take what is given me, and
carry off what the possessor does not value, and as for such wretched
nags as you drive, I tell you plainly I wouldn't have them at a gift. I
am pretty hard to please in horseflesh, I can tell you. So don't let's
waste time in talking. I ask for nothing that people have not got. I
know too that you are in a hurry. So just give me ten gold pieces, and
then you can drive on."
The president did not wish to understand the hint, as he said sulkily,
"What do you mean?"
"Only those ten Kremnitz ducats that you drew as salary for your work on
the Bench."
"True enough, friend, that I have received them, but the prefect won
them from me at cards last night, and I haven't one left. He did not
give me back the money he had won. Turn out my pockets, search me if you
will, and if you find there anything but a bad groschen, it shall be
yours. Here's my sword-pouch. See, there's nothing inside. And if you
like, you can take my boots off, but you'll find no gold there, I warn
you."
The highwayman pressed his axe between his fingers, and tapped quite
gently with the butt end of it on the crown of the president's head,
where the velvet lining of his fur cap hung out. What was jingling
inside?
The smile vanished from the lips of his victim. His round face became
suddenly square with astonishment.
Now there must be something wrong about that. Who had betrayed him? No
man knew it but one.
Gyongyom Miska did not let him waste time in further consideration. With
a pickpocket's dexterity he drew from under his cloak his hunting knife
from its sheath, ripped out the velvet lining, and possessed himself of
the ducats in a trice. Then, with a pressure of his knees, he turned
his horse round, and in the twinkling of an eye, horse and rider were
over the marsh. Only then did he turn round to utter as a parting
greeting the formula of the law courts: "I commend to you, my lord, my
official services," and disappeared through the poplar-trees.
"It is a stupid business," grumbled the president, whose good humour had
been torn away with that cut into his cap-lining.
And a stupid, not to say absurd business it certainly was.
But Gyongyom Miska, cracking his hunting whip merrily, bounded away over
the sedge.
It was already evening. The autumn sun cast long shadows over the level
plain. At the edge of a wood burned a herdsman's fire. By it sat a girl
in riding-gear, her head supported on her hands, at her feet two
greyhounds lay stretched out, her horse was tethered to the stem of a
poplar. At the cracking of the whip she sprang from her resting-place,
threw a bundle of dry faggots on the fire, mounted her horse, snatched
up her whip, and cracked it as a counter signal. Across the plain,
starred with wild anemones, the two met; bending down from the saddle,
they embraced and kissed each other, and were off once more, the one
eastwards, the other to the west.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, scarcely had the guests withdrawn from the Assembly House
than an official courier rode up the Old Buda Street into Pesth. A
courier of this kind was so unusual a sight, that everyone hastened to
his front door to see him. He wore a red frock coat, leather gaiters
over his boots which reached up to the knee, and a cocked hat with a
tuft of red feathers. Every postmaster is bound to provide him with a
fresh mount does he need it, and a blast from his horn will compel every
peasant to hold at his service as many oxen or horses as he possesses.
The sound of his horn is a well-known one, and as the courier gallops up
the street, the children, blowing through their hands, mimic the blast,
and the elders crane their necks to see what may be his errand. It was
for the prefecture he was bound.
"Tres-humble serviteur, Mamselle Oefrosine!" Thus the courier greeted
Fraulein Fruzsinka de Zabvary. "Postage not paid, but I ask three
kronen, because I've ridden well, to say nothing of having to go back!
There are a thousand gulden inside."
It was the courier's way to recommend the letters he handed in as
containing a thousand gulden. So he was paid the fee; but there was
nothing like a thousand gulden in the letter thus sent to Fraulein
Fruzsinka, for it was from the captain of dragoons, Heinrich Lievenkopp,
and why there was nothing of the kind in the letter, may now be told.
Fraulein Fruzsinka paid the courier, but ordered him to wait at the
prefecture so that she might give him the answer to take back. It was
likewise to the interest of the postman to urge the despatching of a
reply. Then she broke the seal and read the letter in question, written
in the stilted affected style just then so much in vogue, with
mythological phraseology mixed up with barrack slang. It ran as follows:
"My most adored Lady,
"By the winged feet of Mercury himself, do I address a
message, surely very agreeable to your grace. God Mars
has taken it into his head to complete the heroic
labours of Hercules. That scoundrel of a highwayman,
'Gyongyom Miska,' has, after escaping our annihilating
force on this side of the river, retreated across the
Danube, and has taken refuge in the Raczkeve
Island--protected by Neptune and Hermes, those
divinities of the robber. Meantime, must we patiently
wait on the shore till we get a ferry to carry us
across. The wretched fellow was playing us off, since
he swam across the other arm of the Danube and reached
the farther side. Thereupon, the Viennese civilians
who were with us, declared, forsooth, that we might
not pursue him, because it would be crossing the
border of another county!
"So we had to return to Pesth till the county of Pesth
should supersede the county of Weissenburg in its
strategic co-operation. But rumour has it that the
redoubtable robber has come back from Weissenburg
county to that of Pesth, and is haunting the Vorosvar
woods. Therefore have I received new marching orders
from the commander-in-chief to march with my squadron
on to Vorosvar. To-morrow, at the first streak of dawn
shall we start on an expedition which brings me on the
wings of the Hours to the charmed circle of my
adorable Calypso in the beauteous Vorosvar Vale of
Tempe.
"There is, however, a small but fatal incident that
must be recorded, that has much disquieted me, which I
will set forth to the Fraulein. Last week I was
amusing myself with Mr. Justice Petray (a good fellow
by the way), in dallying with Fortune's painted cards,
on which occasion a thousand dancing sprites turned
the wheel very unluckily for me, so that I lost twenty
ducats to the justice, and had to give him my _parole_
as an officer that I would pay him to-morrow. Item, he
insists on my redeeming my word, because to-morrow
there is to be an enquiry into the accounts, and among
other things will be missing the twenty ducats from
the treasury. But owing to the incredibly bad state of
the roads the allowance my aunt sends me has not
arrived, nor do I know how I can settle the affair.
And so for me there remains nothing but to take my
leave of the world with a pistol-shot, and embark in
the boat of Charon, or else to take refuge under the
protection of my good genius, and call her to my aid.
I humbly suggest that she might, for just this once,
be an intermediary with her rich uncle for me, and
borrow the above-mentioned sum on my behalf, which I
pledge my word, as a cavalier, gratefully to reimburse
directly I get my aunt's allowance.
"May the Fraulein accept the most humble homage of
Heinrich von Lievenkopp."
Off went Fraulein Fruzsinka, when she had read this letter, to her
uncle, the prefect.
"I say, uncle, dear, will you advance me ten ducats out of my
allowance?"
"Oho, my dear," answered Mr. Zabvary in a tone which suggested the
melancholy whine of a dog. "What's the matter? I really can't advance
any more money, for my account at the bank is already in danger of being
overdrawn. But what did you so suddenly want ducats for? Is the captain
of dragoons in difficulties? That seems to be a chronic ailment with
him. Yes, indeed, I know, he wants more pecuniary aid, that's it!
Otherwise he'll blow his brains out? Heaven grant he may! If he'd only
do it once for all! What does a dragoon captain matter to me? A man who
never means to marry, but just scares away the eligible suitors. I wish
the devil had taken him to Silesia. And, pray, if he means to marry, am
I to keep him? I should think not, indeed, considering he's got his old
aunt. But even if he has, it will fall upon me in the end. Just write
him the right sort of answer in proper Latin: 'Centurio'=Captain,
'pecunia'=money, 'non est'=is there none; 'si valves valeas'=if there's
no wine, then drink water!"
"Very good, if you won't give me any, I'll ask someone else," said
Fraulein Fruzsinka defiantly, banging the door after her as she went
out.
Mr. Zabvary did not think much of that, for it was quite customary for
Fraulein Fruzsinka to raise loans on all sides; from the overseer, from
the chief herdsman, nay, from the shepherd's man she would borrow, and
they never dared to ask the prefect for repayment, but probably then and
there reckoned--as the saying goes--that "discretion was the better part
of valour" in such a case (which is a wise conclusion if you can but
come thereto). Fraulein Fruzsinka, however, left all these possible
creditors unexploited, and calling for her horse, and her riding whip,
and two pet dogs, she went off on a hunting expedition into the open
country.
She did not, certainly, appear to be troubling about game, but seemed
much more concerned to reach the wood; once there, she paced along the
side of the brook till she came to the thicket.
There she took a path which led through it, till she reached a
picturesque circular glade on whose edge six armed men in their coloured
cloaks, lay encamped by a herdsman's fire. When the most gorgeously
garbed one among them perceived the Fraulein, he sprang forward to meet
her, and as she approached he hastened up to her, lifted the young lady
from her horse, and kissed her on both cheeks. Both the dogs appeared to
recognise the cavalier, for they sniffed at him in a decidedly friendly
way. Then, with their arms round each other's necks, they paced along
the flower-decked turf, speaking together in a low voice. And the end of
it was that the lordly cavalier, after whispering to the Fraulein,
mounted his horse, shouldered his weapons, and trotted off, with all
his accoutrements, in company with the young lady herself in the
direction of the high road.
What then happened we have already seen.
Fraulein Fruzsinka had her ducats when she came back. She put them with
the other ten, enclosed them in an envelope, gave them to the waiting
postman, and the red-coated courier was before nightfall on his return
journey, blowing the while the lustiest blast on his horn.
And thus had Fraulein Fruzsinka, at one blow, accomplished three, to
her, eminently desirable ends.
First she had made her adorer, Gyongyom Miska, aware on what side danger
threatened him; at the same time she had procured the ten ducats which
her other admirer needed to redeem his word and avoid the fatal shot; in
the third place, she had helped her third suitor, the judge, to verify
the municipal accounts and make them balance.
But those ten ducats must have truly been bewitched, since they were
fated, in twenty-four hours, to pass through many pairs of hands, to
disappear, be stolen, disappear again, and again be stolen, and only
then to come to a stand-still.
That Fraulein Fruzsinka had put all her admirers in a good temper,
however, and benefited all three, can we duly testify.