Somebody made the discovery that on the outskirts of the village, in an

old tumble-down shanty of his own, lived a poor Jew with a lot of

half-starved, forlorn-looking children, and a half-crazed, careworn,

hard-working wife. The husband and father had been laid up with

consumption for the last few months, and was daily expected to die. This

poor wretch, who never in all his life had been the owner of an entire

suit of decent clothes--for when he had a hat, he invariably lacked

shoes, or when in possession of a coat, he was in sore want of a pair of

trousers--this poor fellow had yet a fortune at his call, for he could

bequeath to his family the 1,000 florins which we were willing to pay

for his vote. All his life he had been as honest as he was poor, earning

a miserable livelihood by setting glass panes in the village windows.

Nobody had ever thought of getting his vote, still less had he himself

thought of attaching any importance to the right he possessed as a

taxpayer. Our drummers found the poor fellow just in the act of taking

leave of this vale of care and sorrow; but they would not have been the

smart fellows they were if they had not succeeded in defeating Death

himself, and robbing him of his prey for as long as they needed. The

dying man stared vacantly into their faces when they offered him this

enormous sum of ready money, while his wife and children broke into a

howl of despair that the offer had not come earlier, for how could a

dying man leave his bed to vote? But my drummers were not to be beaten.

They caught up the bedstead with the sufferer on it, and hastened with

it to the tent where the votes were collected. The dying man had been

made to understand that the bill of 1,000 florins which he saw would be

given to his wife, if he would only pronounce my name when asked to whom

he gave his vote, and he hold tight to his wife's hand, and met her

appealing glance with something like assurance. Happily, he was still

alive when brought to the urn, and the drummers announced that "the poor

man was troubled in his conscience, and could not die unless the

opportunity of fulfilling his patriotic duty was afforded him, so that

he had begged them to bring him to the tent and allow him to vote." This

touching little piece of news was received in the spirit in which it had

been given, and just as the poor fellow in his agony was asked the name

of his chosen candidate, Death came to claim his own. With a last look

of sorrow and affection at his wife he sighed with his dying breath, "Du

mein liebel"[1] ("Thou, my love!"), and expired.

[Footnote 1: The Jews in Hungary usually speak German among themselves.]

"'Nelly Dumany! Dumany Nelly!' he said," cried my drummers--"Nelly"

being an abbreviation of Kornel, my Christian name--and since the "Du

meine" really sounded like "Dumany" and not at all like "Belacsek," the

candidate of the other party, and since the dead man could not be made

to repeat his vote, whereas my drummers were ready to take their oath of

the correctness of their assertion, the vote was credited to me, and I

was declared elected by a majority of one vote, my suffrages being 1,501

in number, whereas my adversary had received only 1,500.

The case was afterward contested, and some witnesses endeavoured to

prove that the dying man had not said, "Dumány Nelly," but "Du mein

liebe"; yet there was the sworn statement of my drummers to the

contrary, as well as the evidence of his wife and children that the man

had been a devout and religious Jew, incapable of offending Jehovah by

uttering German words with his last breath. He had simply pronounced my

name in Jewish fashion, and eased his patriotic heart by voting for me.

Itzig Maikäfer's vote was as sound as a nut and could not be rejected.

Not quite so sound, however, was the other dead man's vote--that of Tóth

János, the potter. We had sent his substitute, the poultry-dealer, with

a cartload of odds and ends to Galicia, just to have him out of the way.

We managed to make it difficult to prove which of the two men named Tóth

János had been buried two days before election-day by providing for the

dead man's family, and sending them off to a remote place; and as the

poultry-dealer (who was a widower without any family) did not return

from Galicia for many weeks to come, everything seemed secure. But we

had reckoned without our host, and did not take into consideration a

possible treachery. The barber, a miserable wretch, whom we thought to

be a true red-feather man, and who had been more than liberally paid for

extracting the poultry-dealer's front teeth, and trimming his hair and

beard into the semblance of those of the dead potter, went and blabbed

of his work. A strict examination followed, the body of the potter was

exhumed, and his identity proved to a certainty. Of course, no one dared

to accuse me of foul play, but a new election was found necessary, and

the day after I had first taken my seat as a member of the Hungarian

Parliament, I was politely but firmly given to understand that I had no

legal right to its possession, and had better go. This is the story of

how I became to be called "the dead man's representative," and how I was

a colleague of yours for a single day.

Yet this story I have told you cannot give anyone a fair or true

estimate of me, or my character, or ability. Anybody who heard or read

this story would suppose me to have been a vain, good-for-nothing sort

of fellow, who had missed his degree at college and lacked the ability

to fill any decent position, and therefore plunged into politics to make

his living, or perhaps to squander the inheritance he had received from

his ancestors. But, in reality, I had already, at the age of

six-and-twenty, occupied the position of a well-qualified assistant

physician, and at two-and-thirty the newspapers spoke of me as a famous

specialist and a great light of the profession. As I was established in

Vienna, where the competition is great, and Hungarians are pushed into

the rear if possible, my reputation could not have been without some

foundation at least. I was respectable and respected, very much in love

with my profession, and did not care a straw for politics. So, in order

to make you understand the change--nay, the entire revolution--which my

outward and inward man, my entire existence, had experienced, I must

acquaint you with a portion of my family troubles and domestic

relations, and I shall have to speak of my Uncle Diogenes.

VIII.

MY UNCLE DIOGENES.

First of all, I must inform you that my father was a very zealous

patriot, and mingled largely in state and political affairs. Of course,

in the great insurrection of the year 1848 he took an active share, and

after the catastrophe of Világos he was seized and imprisoned at Olmütz.

At that time I was a lean, overgrown youngster of sixteen. I was

compelled to take charge of the household, and behave as head of the

family, for which dignity I had no inclination and but little talent.

Study was the great object of my life. After my father's release from

prison I was just of an age to decide as to my future career; but that,

at the time, was rather a difficult thing for a Hungarian youth, all

offices and positions being filled by Germans and Bohemians. I did not

wish to follow in my father's footsteps, for I saw that what with his

neglect of business matters, what with his liberality in furnishing all

patriotic enterprises out of his own pocket with the necessary means,

and in extending a wide hospitality to all political refugees, our own

circumstances were getting worse and worse, and we were deeply in debt.

So one day I took courage to speak to my father upon the subject, and

told him that I thought it was time for me to select a profession.

"Oh! you are going to hunt for some paltry office in the district

courts?" he said, with a snarl.

"No! I am going to study as a physician," I replied.

"What? Do you want to be a barber or a veterinary surgeon, or one of

those curs who pretend to look after the wounded so that they themselves

may keep out of danger when their betters fight? Imagine a scion of the

Dumanys, and the last one, too, wanting to be a sick nurse instead of a

man! I have a notion to shoot you on the spot!"

"That you can't, for our present ingenious Government takes precious

good care that such dangerous persons as my father shall not be left in

possession of a rifle or any other shooting-iron; and surely you will

not butcher me? Come, father, be reasonable! You know well what I mean

to become, and that the calling I have selected is honourable and

respected."

"It is not fit for the son of a gentleman and a Dumany. If you dare to

follow such an insane course, you may be sure of my malediction, and,

besides that, I'll discard you--disinherit you!"

"I am very much afraid, papa, that if our present course lasts awhile

longer, there will not be much left to bequeath to your heirs. So I am

not afraid of that threat; and as to maledictions, you are much too kind

and good-natured to utter such stuff; and, besides, curses are just as

harmless and useless as blessings. The Frauenhofer lines tell us all the

secrets of hell, and so I am not at all afraid of them. But I am

terribly afraid, dear father, that the road which you have pursued will

lead us to ruin in a very short time."

I had taken precise accounts of all that we possessed and all that we

owed. I had computed these accurately, and showed him the result, which

was rather alarming; but he waved the document away with his hands, and

said, "Don't be foolish; don't worry about these little inconveniences,

which can't be helped, and will soon cease to trouble us. Why, there is

your uncle Dion, with eighty-seven winters on his head (may God rest

him!) and not a soul to leave his large fortune to, but you, his only

nephew! Bless my soul! what a nuisance is this boy! Instead of going to

this paragon of an uncle, and trying to get into his good graces, as his

next of blood and kin, he talks of becoming an apothecary, smearing

plasters, mixing poisons, and setting sprained joints. Go to thy uncle,

I say, like a dutiful nephew, and doctor him, if doctor you must!"

"I have been to him already, and have told him of my intentions."

"'Pon my word! And then?"

"He gave me the money to pay my preliminary expenses, and I hope to get

along afterward by myself."

"Well, to think of Dion giving away anything but advice! It's a treat!

And what did he say?"

"That I was right and sensible in providing against the future; for he

knows of your difficulties."

"Stuff and nonsense! He can't last for ever, and then where is the need

for your troubling yourself about my difficulties or studying for a

profession?"

"You are mistaken: he will not leave us a penny; neither do I care for

his money. All I wanted of him I have got, and there is an end of it."

"Then don't say that I am an unnatural or unfeeling father. I'll give

you thir--no, twenty florins!" But he never said whether these twenty

florins were meant to be given monthly, or only once for good and all.

However, as I did not ask for them, I never got a penny, and soon

learned to do without my father's money by giving lessons, coaching less

diligent and capable fellow-students, and contriving to live upon almost

nothing.

But I wanted to speak to you of my Uncle Diogenes, as he was generally

called, although his Christian name was Dion. He was my father's

brother, but by no means like him. Rather an odd sort of a fellow, and

as keen as a razor. He went even beyond the old classical types; he was

more cynical and more of a philosopher than they. Not the oldest

inhabitant remembered the time when the cloak that covered his stooping

shoulders on the street was new. Daily he went to church, never into

church. There, on the sacred threshold, among the beggars and outcasts,

he paid his homage to his Maker, and then returned to his desolate home.

There was a large public well in the village. To this he himself went

with a large pitcher for his drinking-water. This water he poured into a

large boiler, boiled and strained it, and then drank it, because then

he was sure of the bacilli. He kept no attendant or housekeeper, for

fear of being murdered; and he was so much in dread of poison that he

never ate cooked food or anything made of flour, not even bread. He

lived on baked potatoes, nuts, honey, raw fresh eggs, and all sorts of

fruits and vegetables which might be eaten raw, and which grew in his

own orchard and garden. Out of his large herd of cattle he selected a

cow for his stall. This cow he attended to with his own hand, carefully

examining each stalk or haulm she ate, in order that no poisonous weed

might be consumed by her, and thus poison the milk. Each morning and

evening his own hands milked her, and he churned all his butter, and

made all his cheese himself. He never ate anything but what I have

mentioned, and he never went out without two loaded double-barrelled

pistols in his boots. He never read any other newspaper than the

Slavonic _Narodne Novine_, which he got from the village parson; but,

before reading it, he held it over a charcoal fire, on which he had

thrown some juniper berries, to kill possible malarial germs. His land

was all farmed out, and the rent had to be paid to him in gold or

silver, which he locked away in a great old iron chest. Occasionally,

through auctioning off some poor debtor's effects, he came into

possession of bank bills, 50, 100, 1,000 florin notes. These he rolled

up separately, and pushed one by one into a hollow reed. Of those

stuffed reeds he made bundles, which he stowed away in a corner of his

room. He never lent a penny of his money; he never put a penny into any

savings-bank, for he called them all humbugs; and he never gave a penny

for charity or friendship. Such was my Uncle Diogenes or Dion; and now I

will tell you what he had given me. You remember I told my father that

my Uncle Dion had furnished me with the means of paying my preliminary

expenses. That was true, but I had earned the money, little as it was,

in ciphering, writing, and riding about to my uncle's tenants at a time

when he was ill with a cold, and would have been obliged to pay a

stranger for the work which I did for him. I said it was little he gave

me. I have not told the whole truth, for he gave me his advice, and put

his own example before me, and that made a small sum go a long way.

Well, to make a long story short, let me tell you that I was an

established physician when my father died, and immediately after his

death his estate was seized in bankruptcy proceedings.

I did not care. I was satisfied with my position in Vienna, and as I had

no mother nor sisters or dependent younger brothers, and had long ago

relinquished the hope of coming into possession of our family estate, I

tried to forget my former home and live only for my profession.

After my efforts had made me a name as a clever and skilful specialist,

I was occasionally called to visit some wealthy patient in Hungary, and

then the papers gave accounts of the diagnosis I had given, and

mentioned the generous fee I had received. I did not approve of this

sort of advertisement, but I found that it could not be checked, and so

grew indifferent to it. One day I received a registered letter

containing money. It was stamped all over with the cheapest kind of

sealing-wax, and, on opening the envelope, I was surprised to find a

letter from my Uncle Dion, with an old, crumpled hundred-florin bill, of

a kind that had long gone out of circulation, and which showed every

mark of having issued from one of the hollow reeds. The letter ran about

as follows:--

"MY DEAR NEPHEW, DR. DUMANY,--Knowing well that physicians will not

move a step without being well paid, I send you the enclosed

bank-bill, and pray you to take the trouble to visit me for a few

days here in my house.

"DUMANY DION."

I took the bank-bill, put it into a fresh envelope, and wrote the

following lines:--

"MY DEAR UNCLE,--One hundred florins will not induce me to leave my

patients, and so I return the bill; but if you are really in need

of a physician, and want me in that capacity, then please let me

know, without enclosing money, for I should consider it my duty as

a near blood-relation to give you my professional assistance

without delay.--Yours,

"DUMANY KORNEL."

By return of post came the answer--"Yes, I want you immediately."

I went at once. It was ten years since I had seen him last. He was

eighty-seven then; he must be ninety-seven now. A rare age, indeed!

When last I saw him, his long and thick white hair had reached to the

middle of his back, and his long untrimmed beard flowed down to his

girdle, and was the colour of hemp. His eyes were as sharp as those of

any young man, and he did his reading and writing without an eye-glass.

Even his grafting he did without an artificial help to his vision. I

remembered well the old custom for guests arriving at his house: coach

and servants had to be left at the inn, and dinner had to be ordered

there. Whoever came to visit the lord of the château, quite a

magnificent old-fashioned country seat, had to enter through a narrow

garden-gate, just wide enough to admit a single person. The great gate

was never opened, no vehicle of any kind was admitted to pass through

it, and a thick growth of horse-sorrel, both without and within the

great oaken wings, bore witness to the fact. There was a turnkey at the

little gate, and an old man--the only servant my uncle ever kept, who

served for porter, gardener, and all other purposes--opened the door.

There was yet one tender spot in my uncle's heart, one sprinkle of

poetry in his nature. He adored flowers, especially roses, and he did

not even grudge money to secure rare specimens. His flower-garden was a

real fairy bower, and the old man, with the flowing snow-white hair and

beard, pruning and grafting continually, resembled some sorcerer who,

with a single touch of his withered hands, could create or destroy all

the beauty around him.

I found him there among his roses when I came. He recognised me at

once, although the last ten years had considerably changed my

appearance. He was looking just the same as he did ten years ago; not

altered in the least. He was as dry, as wrinkled, and as white as when I

had last seen him, and his eyes appeared by no means less sharp than at

the time I speak of.

"Happy to see you, my dear fellow!" he said. "I should have known you

wherever I met you. You look like the old boy you were."

"So I do, because of my clean-shaven face, uncle. I do not care for the

manly beauty of a moustache and beard. But I must return your

compliment. You have not aged in the least, and I can hardly believe in

your wanting a physician at all. You do not look like it."

He chuckled. "Well, well, I don't think you are much mistaken; but sit

down here in the bower: my room is not quite so pleasant and orderly a

place. I must call the gardener--"

"Don't take the least trouble, uncle," I said. "I shall not stay with

you, as I ordered a room at the inn and also my dinner. I had a hearty

lunch half an hour ago, and so you need not worry about my comfort. Now

tell me what ails you, pray, and then I'll see what I can do for you."

"Nothing in the least with regard to my health, for I am not a bit worse

than I was ten years ago, and far better than most others at my age. I

am ninety-seven, as you know, and that's no trifle. It would be foolish

to expect anything better, and you could not prevent my dying about this

time next year."

"Oh! you are hypochondriac, I see, and give way to fancies! Come in, and

let me examine you professionally, for such fancies are always the

result of some serious disorder."

"There you are mistaken, my boy. My heart, lungs, liver, and the rest of

it are all right, and I am not melancholy. Neither am I weak-minded or

nervous, and you need not look into my eyes or feel my pulse. I have

known these four years that I am to die at the time I mentioned,

although I am sure, when I tell you how I came to know it, you will call

me superstitious. For you fellows of the present day are so sceptical

and matter-of-fact that you refuse to believe in anything that cannot be

proved by optical inspection or by evidence. It was, as I said, just

four years ago, on my ninety-third birthday, when St. John the Nepomuc

appeared to me in a dream, and said--'Dionysius, my good fellow, make

the best of your time! There are only five more years for you in store,

and then you must die! no help for it!' Since that time he comes to me

every year regularly on the night of my birthday, and repeats his

warning, each time giving me one year less. Last week was my birthday,

and he gave me the last warning. Next time he comes I shall have to go.

So--"

"But, my dear uncle," I said, rather vexed, "if you are so much

convinced of the certainty of your death, then it was not at all

necessary for me to come. You want the priest, and not the physician. I

can cure bodily diseases, and release you from the clutches of cholera,

or sometimes even of death; but if the saints have got hold of you, and

such a tight hold, too, then you had better go to your confessor, for it

is his business to be in close connection with all of them. I give you

up. Good-bye! I have patients in Vienna, and cannot afford to waste my

time on a pleasure trip."

"Good God! what a hot-tempered fellow, and what admirable rudeness!

Stay, you unmannerly specimen of honesty, who don't think it worth your

while to cajole an old fool for the sake of his money! What do you think

that I summoned you for? But none of your impudence, if you please!"

I was amazed, and must have looked so, for the old man broke into a

merry laugh, that sounded like two pieces of cracked iron rubbing

together. There was a merry twinkle in his eye even after his laugh, and

he regarded me with a humorous expression which was entirely new to me.

"Well," he said, "I see that you are somewhat slow of apprehension; not

at all as sharp as others of the family. So I must help you out. I am

going to make my will. There!"

"Well then, you had better consult a lawyer or a notary. I am neither of

the two, and cannot be of the least use to you."

"That's gospel truth. But as you are the only sensible person of the

whole family, the only one who is not a prodigal, and have made shift to

live decently upon your own earnings, I rather think that I may be of

use to you. I like you, because you browbeat me and do not flatter me,

and I will tell you the truth; that bank-bill which you returned to me

strongly interested me in your favour. There was a time when I was not

the shrewd hard fellow that I am, but a true Dumany and a spendthrift. I

can show you a heap of signatures from nearly all the members of our

family--that is, the elder members--every one given me as security for

money I have lent them; but that money was never returned to me, and

although I have always believed that spirits will break their bonds and

return to their former home, I never believed in a bank-note's return

until you showed me the miracle. Therefore I have decided to make you my

heir, and I have called you to witness the will and--"

"Not a word more," I said. "I never speculated upon anybody's death, and

do not intend to change my habit. I never took the trouble to inquire

how much of my poor father's fortune was swallowed by the lawyers,

although I know that, after paying all of his debts, there must have

been a handsome penny left, and I could have recovered that money if I

had cared to see about it. I have earned for myself a respected position

and a decent living, and I expect to do better yet. So thanks to you for

your kind intention, but I am not the man you want."

"Yes, you are, and the more so because you do not worship the golden

calf, and do not want to hurry me into my grave as the others do. To

tell you all: I wish to settle everything on you while I live, the

estate, the house, the money, and all--no, don't run away! I am not

crazy, and you need not be afraid that I want you to live here with me

in this old hall as it is, mouldy and dirty and desolate. Neither do I

want you to share my diet of fruits and raw vegetables, eggs and milk,

and baked potatoes. On the contrary, I want you to come to me and live

like a gentleman, as a Dumany should, and let me enjoy life with you."

IX.

A SLAVONIC KINGDOM.

"You see, my dear boy," continued the old man, fondly taking my hand and

pressing it, "it is a princely domain that I offer you, and a princely

income. The station I invest you with is that of a king in its way, and

not a small way, either. Now listen to me! For a great number of years I

have lived here on this spot, like one of those hermits of bygone times,

living on roots and other primitive food, and never tasting of a decent

cooked meal, because I have never ceased to fear that those who wished

to get my money would try to poison me in order to get it sooner. This

fear I know no longer. I know well that my time expires next year; but

of this one year of life I am assured, and I am resolved to make the

best of it. I want to eat nice roasts, good cakes, and other delicate

dishes, and I want to drink wine. I have not tasted wine since 1809,

when I was studying law and attached as juratus to the Personal. For

many years I did not seem to care about it; but now I long for it, and I

remember how delicious it used to taste."

"But, my dear uncle, this would not be wise. Such a change would

absolutely kill you."

"Tut! tut! Never fear! I am sure of the one year, and am not going to

bargain with Death for more. Give me the one year, and let me enjoy it

according to my wishes--that is all I ask for. But for a safeguard

against extravagances, should not I have a skilled and renowned

physician living with me and looking after me daily? Don't you see that

your professional attendance will prevent all evil results, so that I

shall be perfectly safe? I could not have lighted upon a better plan

than making you my heir, and letting you live with me. Of course, I

could have taken a housekeeper; but I know womankind. In less than half

a year she would have persuaded me to marry her and settle all my

belongings on her, and this would not do for a Dumany. But if you come

to live with me, everything will be different. I'll let you have the

whole mansion, and keep nothing but my old room, of which I am fond,

because I am used to it and to the old, dingy, broken furniture that's

in it. You should marry, and bring your pretty little wife into the

house, and she would sing to me and play the piano or the organ, and

would keep pretty little chambermaids that I could pat on the cheeks,

and your little wife would let me kiss her fair, soft little hands; it

would be delicious! Then I should hear a little scolding and quarrelling

in the house, and you would take care that your little lady-wife should

not spoil me by too much fondness, and you would order my dinners and

select my wearing apparel according to my health. Perhaps I might sleep

a little after meals at the open window--a luxury I always longed for,

but did not dare to indulge in. This would be life for me, and a slow

and sweet transit from the cares and troubles of this world into

heaven."

The old man became quite excited over this ideal picture of happiness.

"I speak of heaven," he continued, "and this reminds me of the church.

Do you know why I say my prayers outside among the beggars, and never go

into the church? Not out of humility, but because at present there is

only a simple Slav minister here, and I am not over-anxious to listen to

his orations. Besides, the church is always so full of the Slav peasants

that you cannot breathe inside of it, such an infernal odour is diffused

by them. But if you would come to live here, and bring a gentle little

Hungarian lady with you, perhaps the bishop could be induced to send

some nice Hungarian priest to preach to us; and I am very fond of a good

sermon, especially if I could listen to it comfortably in my pew, as you

may wager that not one of these burly peasants would go inside the

church if the service were held in Hungarian. And then just fancy the

happiness if there should be a christening in the family, and I should

be godfather to your son! Would not that be glorious? Oh, if I could

live to see it! You must make haste and marry, or I'll put speed into

you, you may rely on that!"

I was ready with my diagnosis by the time he had finished his last

sentence. Hallucinations born of religious frenzy; idiosyncrasies with

allotriophagical symptoms, a consequence of his ascetical mode of

living; nymphomania of old age; hypochondriacal fancies: all symptoms

that are frequently found together. To second his morbid intention of

changing his diet and habits would be sheer lunacy; nay, worse, it would

be actual murder. Yet first I must win his confidence as a physician, so

that he may trust me and take my advice. I embraced him, and thanked him

most heartily and tenderly for his kind intentions, which I should never

forget and should always feel grateful for; but I said, brilliant and

splendid as it was, I could not accept his proposition, I could not give

up the career I had entered, the profession I had embraced and which I

loved, and the independent and honoured position I was proud of. My

calling was everything to me--life, happiness, fortune, and ambition;

and to give up my profession in order to till my farm, to exchange my

study, laboratory, and dissecting-table for the petty cares and troubles

of a country squire and a county member, would be physical and mental

death to me.

The old man smiled. "You talk so because you cannot comprehend the

importance of the position you will fill as the lord of my Slavic

kingdom, because you cannot guess the amount of the wealth I offer you.

You shall know it, and you are the only person alive to whom I have ever

spoken, or shall ever speak about it. You think this old mansion looks

as dreary and rotten inside as out; but you are mistaken. This residence

of the so-called Slav King is a princely seat, and it hides treasures

that monarchs and potentates would be proud to possess. If any one of

the family calls on me, he finds me in my dingy little hole of a room,

which, with an old rotten table, broken chairs, mutilated chest of

drawers, and coarse bed with bear-skin coverlet, looks poor and

inhospitable enough, and my visitors are generally glad to escape into

the open air again, thinking that the whole house resembles this room in

appearance; whereas, were I to throw the doors open, and show them the

splendour of the rooms and halls, they would stare in amazement. Every

one of the rooms is a perfect museum, and contains precious rarities.

One is full of carved furniture of costly woods, inlaid with ivory,

mother-of-pearl, gold and silver, and rich stones of the time of

'Ulászló.' The next contains all sorts of pottery of past

centuries--Roman and Etruscan, Chinese and Japanese, Sèvres and Dresden,

old Hungarian, and so forth. The third room is full of weapons of all

ages--panoplies, coats of mail, shields, bucklers, saddles. In the

fourth room are gowns and trains and coats of brocade, and artistic

embroidery and tapestry. The fifth room is a picture-gallery of

unlimited value; and then comes a library that has not its equal on this

continent, nor, I may say, on any other. High up to the ceiling the

large hall is filled with precious and rare old products; books with

clasps that are themselves curiosities of rare beauty. But those books!

If your medical colleagues had the privilege of entering this library

and peeping into those books, I doubt if they would be willing to part

with them ever after. Why, there is actually a book to invoke the devil

with! I did not dare to look into it, but you young fellows are such

sceptics that you will deny the existence of God and Devil presently,

and you will take the risk of reading that book.

"All these treasures were hoarded together by my father--may God bless

and rest his soul! He was called a miser throughout his life, and he

denied himself all comfort in order to spend his income in replenishing

his collection of rarities. Shortly after the birth of his second son,

your father, our mother grew tired of his mania and the sacrifices she

had daily to make, and left him, taking us boys with her, while he

remained alone among his beloved curiosities, which became dearer to him

on account of the high price he had to pay for them. When we boys--your

father and I--grew up, your father grew daily more like our mother,

while I became strangely infatuated with the old man and his store of

curiosities. He was also fond of me, showed me all his treasures,

dwelling upon the particular beauty of each. Miser as our father was, he

occasionally gave money to his younger son, but he never gave any to me,

and I had to consider this as an especial favour, for had I not the

privilege of sharing the main interest of his life?

"When my father died, there was hardly enough ready money in his desk to

pay his funeral expenses, and he had left a very strange will. He had

kept minute accounts of the amount he had spent each day and year for

different objects. All the money he had given to my mother and my

younger brother was reckoned up and subtracted from their share under

his will. He wrote that, as he knew that his wife was well provided for,

having a considerable fortune of her own, he left her a life-estate in

such one of his many domains as she might select. With regard to his two

sons, one had never shown him any love, and visited him only when in

want of spending-money; the other had never asked for a penny, although

he had received less from his mother than her favourite, the younger.

Yet, as a dutiful father, he did not wish to be partial; therefore his

sons were to divide his lands, goods, and chattels in the following

manner:--One was to take all his ready money, bonds, and objects of

gold, silver, and jewellery of recent workmanship (meaning the present

century), besides his horses and cattle, and the wine in the cellars;

while the other was to take possession of all the lands and the

residuary estate, on condition that he should reside in this particular

mansion and take charge of the museum therein, that he should never

marry, never accept any public office, in order that the treasures under

his care might receive the full benefit of his resources. He was

required to pledge himself to live in exactly the same secluded and

frugal way as his father, and to take his oath that during his lifetime

and stewardship he would not sell or give away one particle of the

estate, whether real or personal, which he received under the will.

Further, he must give up all claim on his mother's estate for ever, and

must relinquish all that she might give or bequeath him to his brother.

"To say that your father was furious would hardly express his state of

mind. I have already said that the whole amount of cash left was barely

enough for the funeral expenses. The bonds which were found proved to be

so many worthless pieces of parchment. The jewellery of recent

workmanship consisted of a set of valueless shirt-studs and a watch that

would not have fetched ten florins at auction. Of silver there was a

tablespoon, a teaspoon, a ladle, and two or three pieces of tableware,

bent, crooked, and broken, hardly worth the mentioning. Of horses there

were two lean and decrepit-looking animals, and the cattle consisted of

a diminutive black cow and her calf, neither of much value, yet forming

no doubt the most valuable part of the whole bequest. This was your

father's portion, for as to his taking the other part, giving up the

prospect of our mother's goodly store of money and other property, and

living a secluded life as guardian of a museum, that was entirely out of

the question.

"To tell that I felt pleased or glad on taking possession of the immense

wealth my father had left me would be a falsehood. I was young, and not

altogether devoid of the passions and inclinations pertaining to that

age. But I had interpreted the true spirit of my father's will, and I

knew that all this seeming spite and injustice was really a token of his

great love for me and of his great wisdom. Had he not stipulated such

hard conditions, my brother would have taken and squandered these lands

and goods as he squandered our mother's fortune, and I should not have

been able now to say to his only son, 'Stay with me, and receive at my

hands the undiminished fortune which your grandfather entrusted to my

care.' How immense that fortune is you may guess, when I tell you that

one year's income, large as it is, was not sufficient to pay the

legacy-taxes. But come, let me show you everything, and give you an idea

of the Slavic kingdom to which I invite you."

We entered the mansion, an old château built in the time of King Albert,

under the dynasty of the Mazures. Strong walls of cut stone, like the

ramparts of a fortress; great projecting, mullioned oriel windows;

everywhere the Dumany coat-of-arms hewn in stone, wrought in iron,

carved in wood. The main entrance was walled up; the middle portion of

the building contained but one storey; the wings, too, were low, but in

the rear of the house there was a large, high turret.

A heavy oaken door, beautifully carved, gave access to this turret, and

as this was at present the only approach to the interior of the house,

we had to cross halls and corridors until we reached the floor of the

main building. As we entered, my uncle locked the massive portal and put

the key in his pocket. When, in order to do this, he lifted the lapel of

his long zrinyi dolmány (old-fashioned Hungarian coat), I could see the

butts of his pistols, which were always loaded and ready to his hands.

He noticed the smile on my lips, and said testily, shrugging his

shoulders, "What can I do? I have to think of my personal safety at all

times. Wickedness has not died out of the world, and a poor lone old man

is rather a temptation to robbers. To keep a manservant for protection

would not do. He would be the very person to kill me, having me at his

mercy all the time; and as to keeping a dog for the purpose, I could not

think of it. A dog may bite, and there is danger in that; and, besides,

his keep costs just as much as a man's. He will eat up a fortune in

time. But when you are here, you will have servants and dogs, and all

the rest, and there will be no more need of my pistols."

My uncle took me directly to his treasures. With all he had said to

excite my curiosity, he had not said enough. For here were treasures

indeed, and I could readily believe that in these luxurious creations of

long-forgotten ages and races a strong witchcraft was pent, and that a

man might grow to give his heart and soul to them. My uncle could give

me the date of every object. This statuette is a Praxiteles; this

picture a Guido Reni; Benvenuto Cellini was the owner of this goblet;

and this sword was that of Sultan Soliman.

It was dusk, and the shadows of night were falling fast when I quitted

the museum. My uncle and I returned to the narrow turret-room in which

he had taken up his abode for the last seventy years and more. This room

of itself was a sight to see, and I was slightly faint and dizzy from

bewilderment at what I had already beheld. "You see, my boy," said the

old man again, "I have not lied to you; and when you are once

established here, and open these rooms to your visitors, all the barons,

and counts, and princes will stare at them with open mouth, and will

cajole you, flatter you, and bring their handsomest daughters for you to

choose a wife from; for such is the power of wealth. But do not believe

that the rarities I have shown you are all that I can give. For what

would be the good of the offer if I gave you nothing else? You would

have to lead a miserable existence like mine, for you could not soil

those things--no, not to save your life. If once you come to take

possession of them, you will find that you belong to them as much as

they to you. You will cling to them and neglect the present, only to

live in the forgotten past. The beauty of women you will admire in these

pictures only; the beauty of Nature in these stones and minerals. For

politics you will not care, and home will mean to you this mansion,

which encloses your treasure. Oh, the air of these rooms is poisonous to

youth, and mirth, and love!"

"Yes, uncle," I said, earnestly, "and to ambition and independence, and

all good and right purposes, also; and therefore I cannot stay with you,

for I have chosen my path in life, and I will adhere to it in spite of

these powerful temptations."

"Oh, you are afraid that they will convert you into a miser and a

hermit, as I have become! But I can give you a potent antidote, which

was never given to me; that is, ready money. Come, and I'll show you

what you have never seen, and assuredly never dreamed of. You see this

large iron chest, itself a rare piece of workmanship, and stronger and

safer than any of your new inventions? Come, let me show you how to

unlock it, for it is difficult; and one who was unacquainted with the

secret of this lock might try until Doomsday to force it open, and all

to no purpose. See, it turns this way, and at this point you must stop.

If in all three locks the keys have been turned to this point, the chest

will open. The contents will rebuild this old castle, will buy you

horses and carriages, and all the home luxuries of modern times, and

will enable you to keep up with the richest and the noblest of them all.

Keep up, I say--nay, go ahead of them; and still you will have what

money cannot buy for them--your museum. Oh, the Dumanys shall be a

powerful race once more, and I shall live to see it!"

He lifted the heavy lid of the chest, and I saw a number of linen bags

and an equally large number of bladders. The linen bags, my uncle

explained, were full of silver coins, the bladders of gold coins.

"You see," he continued, "there are fourteen hundred acres of ground

belonging to this estate--rather a handsome piece of property in this

part of the country. It has all been leased out to farmers for many,

many years, almost a century, and it has greatly deteriorated. But this

money will help you to improve the soil also, and it will yield you more

than the twelve thousand acres of Count Vernöczy's estate can do, for

half of that land has been turned into a deer-park, and the other half

is imperfectly cultivated. Look at the bundles of reeds there in the

corner. You have wondered at them, no doubt; and at all those pipes on

the shelf yonder. You asked me if I was a smoker. I am, but I do not

smoke out of those pipe-stems. Both they and the reeds are money-boxes,

every one of them. In them I keep the bank-notes which I have had to

take during the last seventy years. They represent a fortune in

themselves. I hardly know myself how much money they contain. You can

split them, and find out when you come to live with me. I'll settle it

all on you in legal fashion, and keep nothing but my own room. You can

do with the rest as you please; build and rebuild, buy and furnish, to

suit your fancy. Only let me live the one year that remains to me

pleasantly and in plenty, and promise me three things: Never to till

your acres after the ideas you will get from the text-books; never to do

a kindness to a great lord; and never to quarrel or get vexed with a

woman."

"I promise you whatever you wish, dear uncle," said I; "but, since I

have listened to you for quite a while, you must now listen to me. You

have called me in the capacity of a doctor, and as such I must speak to

you."

"Do you know a remedy for old age?" was his sarcastic inquiry.

"I do, to grow older still. You do not look a bit older or feebler than

you did ten years ago, and there is no positive reason why you should

not live for ten years longer, or even more, provided you do not change

your course of living in the least degree. The slightest change of

habits, of diet, or of dress, may prove fatal at your age. I know that

you are not afraid of death, and that you also have taken St. John the

Nepomuc's word for the remaining year. But, my dear uncle, saints are

sometimes ambiguous, and there is something that resembles a living

death, a prospect too horrible to dwell upon, yet dreadfully near. A

single meal of some heavy, unwonted food, one glass of liquor, may bring

it on. It is called paralysis, and when it comes, St. Nepomuc may stick

to his word and give you a year, but what a year that would be!"

He looked at me with a troubled face, and I pressed his hands and said,

"Yes, dear uncle; you have to stick to the old, long-travelled road, and

then I may hope to see you ten years hence as hearty as you are now, or

as you were ten years ago. For you are in perfect health otherwise, and

there is no need whatever of my staying with you. Only beware of

indigestion, and you will be all right. As for myself, I shall never

cease to remember your kindness and to feel grateful for it, but to

accept your offer would be moral death to me. I have to go back to my

profession, and if you, dear uncle, dislike our other relatives, and do

not want to leave them your property, then give it to such patriotic and

charitable institutions as deserve patronising, and you may be sure that

your memory will be blessed by thousands. Of me you need not think. I am

not the man to speculate on another man's death, and build my future on

a grave."

The old man looked curiously at me; then he sighed, and embraced me.

"Thank you, my dear fellow!" he said; "I see you are a truly honest man

and no hypocrite. I won't offer you any money: on the contrary, I'll ask

a further favour. Before you leave, I'll give you a letter, which you

will personally hand to the Prefect at his residence at the county seat,

which is on your way to Vienna. I am afraid to entrust this letter to

the mail, as there are very valuable papers in it, and you will have to

take a receipt for it from the magistrate. This receipt you need not

send me, but keep it safe; and if you come to this house again, you may

bring it with you."

With that the old man showed me out into the garden, carefully unlocking

and re-locking the door, and securing the key. "Thank you for coming to

me, my dear fellow," he said. "And since you decline to take anything of

actual value from me, let me offer you something that has only fanciful

value, yet is dearer to me than all the treasures within the house. See

these Remontan roses in their second bloom--for instance, this Sultan of

Morocco, the most perfect specimen of its kind? I gave a _Napoléon d'or_

for the scion, and this is its first year of flowering. Here, take it!"

With that he actually cut the blossom from the stalk, and handed it to

me. It was a magnificent flower, and almost black, with but a slight

purple tinge. It was the darkest-hued rose known at that time. Later on

the "Deuil d'Alsace" came out of Pandora's box. At the time I speak of,

that box was in Benedetti's pocket, and more is the pity that the pocket

held it so tight.

X.

"DEAD."

Hardly three months after I had taken a tender and affectionate farewell

from my Uncle Dion a newspaper item informed me of his death. My

prediction that a fit of indigestion would prove fatal to him had come

true. His confidence in St. John of Nepomuc had been greater than his

prudence, and it was a mercy that the stroke of apoplexy had killed him

outright, instead of making a living corpse of him, as is so often the

case.

About a fortnight after I had read of the death of the celebrated Slav

King, I received a package by mail, containing an official and a private

letter. The official letter informed me that the Honourable Dionysius

Dumany had recorded a last will and testament in the county archives, in

which last will and testament he nominated me, Dr. Kornel Dumany, as his

sole heir, upon condition that I should take possession of the property

and live in Dumany Castle. But if I should stubbornly refuse to fulfil

that condition, lands, goods, and chattels should forthwith pass over to

the "Maticza" (Slavic and ecclesiastical literary fund, employed for

Panslavonic ends).

The private letter came from the Governor of the county, and referred to

the same subject. The Governor declared that it was my unmistakable

duty, as a Dumany and a son of Hungary, to take possession of the home

of my ancestors, and not to allow such an anti-patriotic and dangerous

institution as the "Maticza" to do her a mischief on the strength of

Hungarian funds, and to turn the ancient halls of my patriotic

forefathers into a meeting-place of daring conspirators.

I shrugged my shoulders, but had not the faintest notion of accepting. I

did not care for politics, and knew of the "Maticza" as a purely

Slavonic literary society. If this society was to hold future meetings

in my uncle's museums, I could bear it; there was very little of

Chauvinism or even patriotism left in me. I was rather cosmopolitan in

tendency; and as to giving up my profession and becoming a country

squire, that was simply ridiculous.

This happened to be the very period when, after years of degradation and

suffering, the Hungarian national spirit was first allowed to lift its

head and show its colours. Germans and Bohemians, who for many years had

filled all the public offices in Hungary, were compelled either to learn

the Hungarian language or surrender their places to natives. In most

cases the latter was unavoidable, and these aliens, furious at being

driven from their prescriptive sinecures, went up to Vienna and did

their best to make it hot for the Hungarians. As every war has its

origin in an inkstand, students are, naturally, the greatest

Chauvinists, and I was to find that out with a vengeance. All my friends

and colleagues became more and more averse to me, and even went so far

as to take my patients from me by incensing them against me in every

possible manner. Soon they began to drag my name into professional

polemics, into professional newspapers; and when I had defeated and

silenced them in one place, they began to annoy me in another. At home,

in Hungary, the reorganisation of the counties was begun. For twenty

years constitutional life in Hungary had been extinct, and now it had to

be resuscitated. This was a hard task, and at first it was not even

known who were entitled to vote at the meetings.

And now I received another letter from the Governor, again reminding me

of my duty, clearly describing the situation of affairs, and telling me

how much good every honest and right-minded man could effect, and how

much mischief I should be able to prevent. "But," he closed, "if you

stubbornly and positively adhere to your unpatriotic resolution, and

finally decline to accept your deceased uncle's legacy, I must trouble

you to come down in person and give a definite renunciation, with the

necessary affidavit, such being your uncle's strict demand."

There was no help. I had to go to get rid of the annoyance. Arriving at

the county seat, I paid my respects to the Vice-Governor, the same

dignitary to whom I had given the letter which my uncle had entrusted to

my care, and which, as I now learned, proved to be the very will in

question. I announced my firm resolution to adhere to my principles, and

the magistrate replied that that was all right, but before we talked

further on the subject, I had better go to the county meeting, which

was to be held that day.

"But what right have I to be there?" I asked.

"Why, as the present head of the ancient Dumany family, of course," was

the reply. "There is not one of us provided with a better claim."

So I let myself be persuaded, and went. The great Hall of Meetings was

crowded to suffocation, and among the local celebrities I recognised a

few of those compatriots who had kindly assisted my poor father to get

rid of his money by feeding them and keeping their pockets full. There

were others who were quite young men, old schoolfellows of mine;

somewhat bad students at the time, but, since Providence had furnished

them with strong voices, they had taken advantage of the gift so as to

make a noise in the world, and played the _rôle_ of leading partisans.

One of them in particular, a good-for-nothing sort of fellow who had

never come near his degree in any school, was recognised as a bright

particular star, and quite too smart for anything. If I remember

rightly, he was the head of the Radical wing.

After much deliberation and a good deal of talk, of which I did not

comprehend anything, it was decided to read the names of the present

county members. A long list was handed to an official, who was

instructed to pronounce each name clearly; and each name, as it was

read, was followed by a loud cheer "Éljen!" All at once there came,

instead of the "Éljen!" after one of the names, the unanimous shout

"Dead!" and the person named had to rise from his seat and leave the

room, and his name was erased from the list. This was repeated a number

of times, and behind me stood a Slav nobleman, who after each of these

utterances of "Dead," added the Slavonic word "Smrt"[2]--a beautiful

word, as bony as the spectre "death" itself.

[Footnote 2: "Dead."]

There was a priest, with a broad red sash, who made himself especially

obnoxious to me; for, as often as the "dead" sentence was pronounced, he

laughed, and pointed conspicuously with his fat fingers at the expelled

man, who, with bent head, made his way to the door. I inquired the

reason of these demonstrations, and was told that these men were

traitors, who had filled offices under the absolutist government of the

Austrians.

Immediately after one of these shouts of "Dead," an old gentleman who

sat just in front of me, and of whom I had up to this moment seen

nothing but his bald head, which showed an immense scar, evidently an

old sword-cut, got up from his seat at the green-covered table, and as

he turned I beheld an aged and careworn but honest face, with two big

tears slowly rolling down the furrowed cheeks. "That is for the seven

wounds I received at Nagy Sarló!" said he, with choking voice; and

raising his trembling hand to his eyes, he moved away.

"Seven children the poor fellow has at home, and he had to earn daily

bread for them, somehow, so he served as surveyor, and that was his

treachery," said one of my neighbours in an undertone. As the banished

man passed out, I sat down on the seat he quitted. "It is ill luck to

sit in a traitor's chair," said a well-meaning man at my elbow; but I

smiled and kept my seat.

"Who may that smooth-faced stranger be? and how comes it that he is

here?" I heard some of the bystanders ask, referring, of course, to my

clean-shaven visage. Nobody in the whole congregation knew or recognised

me, except the Vice-Governor, and the fellow-student of whom I have

spoken. But, of course, he kept at a distance. Presently my own name,

"Dumany Kornel," was pronounced, and "Dead! Dead! Smrt!" was the shout

of all around. I had caught the infection, and as the red-sashed priest

smilingly and playfully raised a threatening fat finger at me and said,

"He is turned into a German, an Austrian," down came my fist upon the

green cloth of the table. Philosophy, _sang-froid_, and political

indifference were blown to the winds, carrying forethought and

resolution with them. I jumped up, pushed the chair away from behind me,

and shouted--

"He is not dead! He is here! And what is more, here he shall stay! I am

a landed gentleman, as well as the best of you, and as pure a Hungarian

as any in this meeting, or in this country either. I am that Dumany

Kornel whose name has been read, and I am not dead, but alive, as you

shall soon find out!"

There was a dead silence at these words, and some heads were nodded in

acknowledgment that I was right. Then there was a whispering and

consulting and questioning, until the honourable Vice-Governor said,

"Silence, gentlemen! the honourable Dumany Kornel has the floor upon a

personal question."

"Hear! hear!" shouted all, some in good earnest, some in order to

embarrass me, and the red-sashed parson said, maliciously, "If you are a

Hungarian, sir, as you claim, where is your moustache?"

"Out hunting for yours, your reverence," said I, with a grin.

"I am a priest!" was the haughty reply; but that was just what I

expected, and looking around at the portraits upon the walls of the

room, portraits representing the most celebrated heroes of our national

history, I gave them then and there such a barbological sermon, _ex

tripode_, that they listened to me in mute astonishment. I told them

that the great national high-priests and patriots, Peter Pázmány, Prince

Cardinal Esterházy, and Thomas Bakács, there portrayed, had worn

moustaches, although they were priests; whereas Mathias Corvinus, our

glorious, never-to-be-forgotten hero-king, wore a clean-shaven face like

mine. The famous Palatinus Illésházy had pronounced Hungary free and

independent with smooth hairless lips, and Thomas Nádasdy had carried

the Hungarian tricolour to immortal triumphs although his face was as

beardless as mine, as everybody might see by his portrait there present.

I told them that I did not speak for myself, as I did not care a straw

for their opinion, and felt sufficiently strong in my own self-respect

and clear conscience, which, perhaps, was more than a good many present

could say of themselves. But I was not going to look on when patriotism

was made the monopoly of certain people, whereas decent and deserving

men were hooted at because they had dared to earn their own bread and

that of their family, instead of living upon the bounty of friends and

driving them to ruin and death. And then I told them that it was not a

time to inaugurate a policy of jealousy and persecution. We had had

enough of that under the absolutist government; what we wanted was

honest, energetic co-operation for a common purpose, the welfare of

country and nation.

I had spoken with all the bravery of a simpleton, who has no idea that

if he throws a glowing tinder into a barrel of gunpowder he may blow the

house up and himself also. For some seconds I ran the risk of being

thrown out of doors, or of getting my hands full of private quarrels and

duels, but the concluding sentences met with such unanimous applause

that I was heartily congratulated on the success of my maiden speech,

and had the additional satisfaction of seeing the majority of those

formerly pronounced "dead" restored to the list again, and I was able to

give back the seat which I occupied to its former owner, the old

gentleman with the seven scars and as many children.

Among those who had congratulated me was one conspicuously handsome and

distinguished-looking young man. He fairly embraced me, and said, "You

are the man we wanted! Let me welcome you, and consider me your friend;

I am Count Vernöczy. Siegfried Vernöczy is my name!"

The Vice-Governor invited me to dinner, and just as we were pushing our

way out of the hall, I heard the red-sashed priest and the Slav

nobleman, who had always added his "Smrt" to the cry of "Dead!" speaking

together in Slav, of which language they supposed me ignorant. The

nobleman said to the priest--

"What folly it was of you to vex and excite this blockhead by

pronouncing him dead! Had you left him alone, he would have gone off,

and left the Maticza in possession of the old miser's fortune. Now we

may go and hunt for other fools; this one has escaped us for ever."

"Well, how could I know that the milksop had turned into a fighting

bull?" was the reply.

The reverend gentleman was wrong. I was not a bull, but an ox; and a

moment's excitement had made me give up fame and ambition, profession

and independence, and here I was in the kingdom of Swatopluk, taking

possession of my Uncle Diogenes's legacy. It was very foolish, but if I

had to do it again--why, I should do it. I was a Hungarian and a Dumany,

in spite of my cosmopolitan tendencies and in spite of modern equality.

XI.

MY DEAR FRIEND SIEGFRIED.

So I must needs call him, for dear was his friendship to me; at least, I

have paid for it dearly. At our first meeting he told me that henceforth

we should stick to each other like the Siamese twins. And the man whom

he thought worth catching was clever indeed if he could extricate

himself from the meshes which encircled him. He was altogether a

wonderful fellow. Of athletic build, striking beauty, great agility and

versatility in all bodily exercises, an unrivalled fencer, and a perfect

marksman. What a soldier he would have made! But Mr. Schmerling knew a

good many fine tricks, and one of the prettiest was the prevention of

Hungarian youths from entering the army. He took advantage of the

prevalent Chauvinistic sentiments, and put them forward as a bait. One

thousand florins, paid down, protected a Hungarian youth from serving in

the hated army, and he was free to ride his own horses instead of the

king's. Yet what a general that Siegfried might have been! He was born

to command and direct other people. All who adhered to him and did his

bidding were his soldiers; all who declined to follow his lead, he

regarded as enemies. The former he compelled to serve him, the latter he

defeated and slew. He was sometimes high-spirited to eccentricity. At

other times he was discreetly prudent. He spoke almost every existing

language, and was a brilliant orator. His addresses were admirably

delivered, and he took an independent and imperative tone. His talk was

always fluent; and if a Hungarian or a German word failed him, he

substituted for it a French, English, Spanish, Italian, Danish, Turkish,

or other foreign phrase, never stopping for a moment to consider or even

to explain. His Hungarian speeches were rhetorical gems, yet they could

hardly be styled Hungarian, for they were delivered in a perfect

Volapük--that is, in a medley of all possible languages. He was a strong

personality, and a "grand seigneur." His purse was always open, and he

spent his money with a liberal hand. He must have been a very rich man,

for I never knew him in even a momentary embarrassment for money. When I

first felt the pressure of his iron arm, I knew at once that he would

dominate me. But such was the fascination he exercised that I submitted

at once.

It was at the close of that memorable meeting, and after he told me to

consider him my friend. The Vice-Governor had invited me to dine with

him, and I wanted to go to my rooms for a change of attire, or at least

a white tie and a pair of light gloves. "Nonsense!" he said, "these

rustics will take you as you are, _en plein parade_. Come at once. We

will order them to lose no time, but to take up your status in your new

domain to-morrow, and have you put in possession of your rights and

privileges without delay."

"But to-morrow I shall not be here," I remonstrated; "I have to go to

Vienna and provide for my patients."

"What would you provide for them? _Qu'ils attendent, les pauvres bêtes_;

death will not escape them. 'We can wait,' is the Austrian parole; don't

worry about them. To-morrow you will have the board of commissioners

meet on your new premises, and put you in possession of your

inheritance, so that you may be placed on the list of voters. This must

not be postponed, for if you miss that you are dead indeed--'Smrt,' as

that honest Maticza champion said."

Siegfried lost no time, and the Vice-Governor said that he was right.

"Yes," he said, "to-morrow you shall have the keys of your castle."

"And that of the famous iron chest," said Siegfried.

"No, that cannot be yet," replied the officer; "the iron chest is under

an official lock as yet, for the 'Maticza' has put in a claim to the

inheritance. The Slav parish priest in Dumanyfalva, as well as his

housekeeper and his sacristan, affirm that your deceased uncle, on the

eve of his death, dined with them (in parentheses, the fat pork he

partook of and the strong wine he drank brought on the fatal stroke),

and there at the table he declared that, even in case you, his nephew,

should accept of the inheritance, the Maticza should not be left

empty-handed, but should receive all the ready money found on the

premises."

"Franca, franca! It's all a lie!" said Siegfried.

"So I think, too. But we have no evidence to prove it. It all depends on

the decision of the court, because the Maticza has no documentary

evidence, and so the court will decide the question."

"And where is the chest at present?"

"There at the castle, under guard."

"And why did you let it remain there? It ought to be here under your own

care."

"Yes; but it is so riveted to the wall that we could not remove it

without tearing up the wall also."

"Then why have you not taken the money into your own custody? Some

unknown person or persons may force the lock."

"That lock? Why, we tried it in every way, for the tax-commissioner

would have liked to examine its contents to make sure as to the amount

of taxes due. But we could not find a locksmith capable of using the

three keys belonging to the locks in the proper way."

At this I spoke out. "If," I said, "my uncle has indeed willed away his

ready money to the Maticza, he must assuredly have instructed them how

to get at their money. To me, at least, he disclosed the secret of the

lock, and I know how to apply the keys properly."

"Bravissimo! That settles the question. A clearer piece of evidence

cannot exist. The court cannot decide otherwise than in your favour."

"Then try to expedite the formalities. You can do it."

"I can't. The parties must be informed at what time the court holds its

session; they have to appear before the court, and introduce testimony.

All this takes a month at least."

"And how is he to manage until then? Is there nothing in old Diogenes's

casket to make money out of?"

"Oh yes, a lot of old rubbish! I daresay it would bring something at

least. We have taken an inventory of it, and taxed it; here it is."

With that he took from the shelf an official-looking document, and

handed it to me. I was curious to know at what they had appraised my

uncle's precious treasures, and looked at the inventory. I was more than

surprised--I was amused beyond everything. The contents of the two large

halls, ante-chamber, and five chambers were valued at three hundred and

seventy-nine florins and forty-five kreutzers. The kreutzers were for an

old Gobelin hanging--a rare piece of tapestry.

"Why, this is ludicrous!" said I laughingly. The Vice-Governor smiled

knowingly, and Siegfried took the paper out of my hand, and read the

items. A Palissy-cabinet was described as a wooden chest, worth three

florins; precious old majolica as old earthenware, the suits of armour

as old iron, and so forth. "Now this is a masterpiece!" said Siegfried;

but I was indignant. "It is hyper-barbarism!" I said. "This inventory

enumerates the contents of some dime museum--not of my uncle's valuable

collections. If you had looked for it, you might have found an exact

schedule, made by my uncle, with the name of each object, statement of

cost, etc."

"We could not find anything of the kind," said the Vice-Governor. "But I

forgot. Attached to the will was a package, sealed; and addressed to

you--'Dr. Cornelius Dumány.' Here it is."

I took the package, opened it, found the inventory within, and handed it

to the official. "Here it is. You see I was right! Here you can see the

actual worth of my uncle's museum."

"I have no curiosity whatever," said the Vice-Governor; "this is a

private document addressed to you, and, therefore, I have no business to

inquire into it."

"But--"

"But it is time for you to go," said Siegfried, slapping me on the

shoulder; "never mind that old inventory of your uncle's."

"But I do mind it," I insisted. "I can't have something that is actually

worth two hundred thousand florins appraised at three hundred, all in

all."

"But can't you see that on the three hundred florins the amount of tax

would be seventeen florins, and on the two hundred thousand you will

have to pay nine thousand florins as legacy taxes?"

"Is that the law?"

"Of course it is, clear and distinct."

"Then I shall pay according to law. I do not intend to cheat the

Treasury."

The Vice-Governor broke into a laugh, and Siegfried took hold of both my

ears and gave them a hard pull. "Oh! you, you, you doctor!" He would

have said you fool, or you simpleton, but he found the "doctor" more

explanatory, and a good deal more to the purpose. Why, did I not

understand that it was the patriotic duty of a Hungarian citizen to

cheat the Treasury whenever an opportunity to do so was offered?

"Just you let him alone," said the Vice-Governor, laughing. "He is an

innocent, honest fellow, with a tender conscience, and nothing so tough

and hardened as you. Come, friend Kornel! tell me, what do you think of

the rate at which the other things are estimated? For instance, your

uncle's private room? The whole furniture is valued at twenty-three

florins. Do you think that underestimated? No? Well, here are his

pipes--old clay pipes, stuck into cane stems. They are valued at ninety

kreutzers."

I laughed. "The pipes are hardly worth more, but the stems would be well

worth the money, for they and the old reeds in my uncle's room were his

bank-note receptacles, and for all I know they may be full of hundred-

or even thousand-florin bills."

"Well, if you are not the greatest ass in Christendom, then I am--and no

doubt about it," said Siegfried, vexed. "Here is this fellow actually

denouncing his own money to the police. If you are such an imbecile, and

really do not care for your own profit, then at least do not talk

without being asked."

"Hadn't you better use more civil language?" I asked. "I really am not

used to such strong expressions."

"Oh, of course; I beg your pardon! Only I should like to know what you

will do without ready money? Because you have compelled our friend, the

Vice-Governor here, to take all the money on the premises, that is, all

the contents of the reeds and pipe-stems, of which you blabbed, into his

own custody, whereas you might have kept your own counsel, and culled

the money out at your leisure, without anybody having an idea of its

existence."

"Yes; but that would not be honest. If anybody finds a pocket-book full

of money he cannot keep it for himself, but must give it up to the

authorities."

"Not if it is his own pocket-book, I should think. But, as you have done

it, it is too late to quarrel about the policy of the act."

The Vice-Governor called in one of his office clerks, and drew up a

statement containing all I had said about the reeds and pipes, and the

actual value of the museum. I had to put my signature at the foot of the

document, and then I was allowed to go.

Next day Siegfried took me out in his own chaise, to which four

beautiful horses were attached, to Dumanyfalva, and there, with all the

ceremony belonging to the occasion, I was inducted into my legal rights

as landlord. I was conducted into the mansion, the keys were put into my

hands, then they took me out into the field and gave me a handful of

soil of each individual plot, or meadow, or pasture. After that they

split the reeds and pipe-stems, and ten bills of one thousand florins

apiece, two hundred bills of one hundred florins, and sixty-four

fifty-florin bills were found, flattened out, made into a package, upon

which each of the persons present put a seal, with his own name. Then

the Vice-Governor wrote on its cover, "Legacy of the Late Honourable

Dionysius Dumany," and handed it over to the trustee.

"Now you see what has come of your blabbing," said Siegfried. "How will

you manage now?"

"Well enough. I have some money in Vienna, and I am going to fetch it. I

have to go up to Vienna, anyhow, to arrange my belongings there."

"And I'll go with you, for, thorough Æsculapius as you are, there is

danger of your escaping us yet."

He kept his word, and we went by his own chaise and four to Nagy

Szombat, where we took the train for Vienna. In Vienna he never moved

from my side, hardly allowing me time for any business transactions, but

taking me to theatres, dinners, cafes, and all sorts of variety-shows

and music-halls. I had lived soberly and industriously up to this time,

rarely going to the opera or to private entertainments; but I was young

and naturally jovial, and did not object to a few days of dissipation,

enjoying the manifold diversions which the Austrian metropolis offered.

On the last day, Siegfried helped to pack and send off my furniture to

Dumanyfalva, and, as I could not sleep in my empty rooms, he carried me

off to a hotel; but not to sleep, for we never closed our eyes that

night, and it was with a dizzy head and a confused brain that I found

myself in the railway carriage, travelling homeward. Happily, my

faithful old servant had gone with the furniture ahead of me, and, on my

arrival at home, I found that the practical old fellow had made the best

of his time. A bedroom and sitting-room had already been furnished and

the old dining-room made serviceable. He had also procured a cook, and

for the first time in my life I enjoyed the sensation of sitting at my

own table and playing the host, for that Siegfried did not leave me yet

will be readily understood.

While at dinner, Siegfried laid down a plan of how the old mansion might

be renovated without and within, and I had to acknowledge that his taste

was perfect; but--very expensive, as I remarked.

"How much ready money have you?" he asked.

"Something over four thousand florins," I replied.

"That is almost nothing--hardly sufficient to furnish a few rooms, and

what becomes of the building? Then there is the grange, the stable,

etc., and then you will want to buy two pair of horses; one for your

chaise, the other for work. You will have to buy cattle, and grain, and

hay, and a good many other necessaries, and you will have to take the

distillery away from the lessee, for what will you do with your cattle?

What you want is at least twenty thousand florins, and these you have

fooled away. It will take months to get hold of them again, and then

half of them will be gone, and the time for making all necessary

arrangements will have passed. I'll tell you what, you cannot sit here

and do nothing, and I am not going to let you waste time. I'll lend you

these twenty thousand florins." I was surprised at the offer. "Yes," he

said, "I have the money ready, for I intended to buy a piece of

property, but could not make a bargain with the owner. Now the money is

of no use to me at present, and you may have it until your money is

restored to you. Happily, I have the money with me now. Here it is!"

With that he took out a portfolio, and handed me twenty bank-notes of

one thousand florins each. I wanted to give him a bond, but he would not

hear of it "The idea!" he said; "why, we are no Jews, but gentlemen.

Just write upon your card: 'Good for twenty thousand florins, which I

will pay upon receipt of my legacy.' Here, take my lead-pencil; that

will do."

I was rather embarrassed, but his face showed so much sincere friendship

and regard that I did not venture to refuse the offer, and, considering

the circumstances, he was right, and he had behaved nobly. Still, I did

not like the obligation he had put me under, and should have preferred

to pay interest on the sum even to a common usurer. I had some faint

presentiment that the interest on such a loan as this would be much

higher than the usual percentage taken by the professional money-lender;

but I had done it, and could not undo it, as you might say.

With the money in hand I attended to business. Siegfried, indefatigable

in his endeavours to be of use in me, assisted me with his practical

versatility in business matters, and with his good taste in the

domestic sphere. He purchased the horses for my carriage, he bargained

with the mason about the buildings, he made the contracts with my

tenants, and he bought my grain and other household necessaries. I could

never have got on without his help--at least, not so profitably--and I

was naturally very grateful to him.

"You can't pay any visits to your neighbours until you have made your

own house fit to receive company; but, as it would be rather hard upon

you to live like a hermit until that time, you might drive over to the

county town and put in an appearance at the casino. I'll introduce you

to the whole set."

The county town was two hours' drive from Dumányfalva. Siegfried drove

me over, and my own brand-new and very "pshutt"-looking cab was to wait

for me at the casino door. In the casino Siegfried introduced me to

about a dozen of young and old local celebrities, and one or two great

lights of national reputation. Party divisions there were none; all

parties agreed harmoniously, and played with each other their whist,

their games of chess or dominoes. I was very cordially received, and in

the ensuing conversation I took a very lively and active share, and

stood my ground without any of the usual bashfulness of a novice.

Siegfried seconded me in all my remarks with an occasional nod and a

"Very true, my friend," or "You have hit it exactly," or "You have

expressed my own opinion;" "My friend, you are an excellent debater,"

and other observations of the kind, and soon we were unanimously called

"the Dioscuri," for we were never found apart.

At a county banquet Siegfried spoke of me, in a brilliant toast-speech,

as of a newly risen star, or rather "a great shining planet," and there

was a universal "Éljen!" and shouts of acclamation. It was wonderful how

many friends I found, and how much I was sought after! I had a dozen

different invitations at once. One invited me to his shooting-box in the

mountains, another to inspect his model farm and dairy, a third invited

me on a fishing excursion, and so forth.

While driving home from the casino, Siegfried said to me--"I wonder you

are not vexed at my never inviting you over to Vernöcze, but I must tell

you the truth. I am not the master of my own house and home at present.

An aunt of mine is here with my two cousins, half-grown young girls,

staying until the bathing-season begins. So the lady has control of the

house, and I live in a little pavilion in the park. My aunt will be very

much pleased to make your acquaintance--too much pleased, I should say,

for she is one of those spirited women who have an opinion of their own,

and let you know it. She is never tired of arguing, and you are the very

person for her. I verily believe that the two little girls have caught

the infection from her, and you would be surprised to hear what a flow

of nonsense issues from the aristocratic little mouths. And the number

of questions they ask is astonishing! Sometimes I give them an answer in

language such as I would not venture to use to a variety singer; but

the little innocents stare at me, and laugh without the faintest blush;

they do not understand the hidden impertinence. I'll some day introduce

you to all of them, my aunt and the two girls; but your house must first

be put in order. For I find it hard, even now, to keep them from rushing

in upon you unawares, and introducing themselves. They are positively

dying for a peep at you and your museum. Well, I have done enough to

excite that curiosity. I am incessantly talking of you."

"Then it will be your fault if their ladyships are shocked at finding

out the deception. I am too commonplace a fellow not to disappoint them

cruelly."

"Vederemo!" he said. "The Devil is never at rest!"

INTERMEZZO.

The Devil?

"Do you believe, then, in the existence of a personal Devil?" you

ask.

"Has not this story been terribly dull and tedious up to this

moment? You have not shown us a single Devil as yet. No, not even a

woman."

"Well, I'll show you three of the latter species presently--a

strong-minded, argumentative aunt, and two little nieces."

"You won't say that these two little countesses or their

aristocratic aunt, or either of them, is an incarnation of the Evil

One? Or are you speaking of your dear friend, Siegfried? Why, he is

a perfect guardian angel, the personification of goodness and

benevolence!"

"Do you know the story of St. Anthony? How he was tempted by the

Devil in the semblance of a lovely sylph, until all at once he saw

the fiend's hoof appear from under the robe?"

That night, as Siegfried took leave of me, to drive home to Vernöcze, he

embraced me and kissed me on the cheek. It is many years since that

night, but many a night since then I have lain sleepless in my bed and

rubbed that eternally burning and smarting spot, and felt an almost

unconquerable temptation to take the operating-knife and cut out the

part which had been contaminated by that foul kiss.

XII.

THE DEVIL'S HOOF.

One morning my dear friend, Siegfried, came. "My dear Nell," he said,

"we held a party meeting yesterday, and it was decided that you should

be a candidate for Parliament. In fact, we have nominated you already."

"You are in a jocular mood, I suppose?" said I. "I do not understand an

atom of legislation and politics."

"Neither do I; yet I fill my place in the House of Lords, so will you

fill yours in the House of Commons. You need not stare at me, for I am

not joking. I am fully in earnest, and, now that the chalice is set to

your lips, you are bound to drain it."

"But I can't see why," said I. "I am not in the least fit for the

position, and am not going to make a fool of myself. I am a doctor of

medicine, not a legislator."

"And what does that matter, pray? The department of public health is

very much in need of a radical reform, and you are the very man to

advocate sanitary measures in Parliament. But this is all nonsense.

Hungary is not yet in a position to have all departments represented by

experts; what she wants at present is firmness to principle, strict

party fealty. The demagogues, the heretics, and the Panslavonians of

our country are preparing for a strong contest at the coming electoral

struggle, and we Conservatives must strain every nerve to defeat them,

and cause patriotism, religion, and aristocratic rights to triumph. Our

party believes that you are the man to represent these principles, and

you can't decline to accept such an honourable mission. Do you not love

your country? Do you want her to become a prey to infidels, or

Panslavonic conspirators, or to the mob? You would not have the

descendants of the Hussites dominate Hungary? Are you not a Catholic

Christian? You are brave; you have strong principles, and you are an

excellent orator. You are the man we want, and there is an end of

arguing."

"Very good! But there is a practical side to the question."

"Yes. If the other parties come off victorious, the agrarian movement

will grow too fast for us. The Socialist rabble is preaching the

assessment of all land, the abolition of the congrua taxes,[3] and the

abolition of our feudal privileges. This is the prose or practical side

of the question, my friend."

[Footnote 3: Congrua taxes are the taxes paid by the parish members to

their curates or priests.]

"There is another still," I persisted, "and I must speak plainly. You

know that I have no money for political enterprises. My own money is in

official custody; but, even if it were not, and I had so much money at

my disposal that I did not know what to set about in order to get rid of

it, I should not waste it in buying myself a seat in Parliament. I

remember well what politics did for my father, and how much it cost him.

But, besides this recollection, the idea of corrupting the minds of the

electors and of making drunken animals out of decent and intelligent

labourers for two or three weeks is repulsive to me. It is entirely

against my conscience."

"Now listen to me. In the first place, no one asks for a penny of your

money, so it is no business of yours to inquire or care about it. What

is the use of party funds, I might ask? Then, what have you to do with

the details of the campaign? I am head-drummer, manager of the canvass.

You need not give a single bottle of wine to anybody, unless you want to

regale your friends here in your house; but that is quite a different

thing, and has nothing to do with the election. There is one thing you

must remember. If you offer venison and champagne to your electors, it

is called a banquet, and the papers speak admiringly of your bountiful

hospitality; but if you boil a sheep and open a barrel of sixpenny wine

or beer for them, then you are bribing voters, and corrupting the minds

of the innocent. So never trouble your head with a thought about these

things. I have made a bargain with every hotel-keeper or inn-keeper in

the whole county for that one day, and the voters may revel as they

please--at their own expense; that is, a dinner may be had for two

kreutzers, a supper for three, and the wine will be included in that

price. Who can forbid an inn-keeper to sell cheap viands? You will have

nothing to do with the whole business. Only, if some decent elector gets

his head broken in the spree, you will plaster him up, or sew him up, as

may be necessary. Up to the day of election you will not show yourself,

and only put in your appearance when they come to fetch you with music

and flags and all that flummery, and beg you to come and kindly accept

the mandate, which the chairman of the party is dying to hand over to

you. Then at the banquet you offer a toast to his Majesty the King, and

afterward you will accept of the torchlight serenade, which your voters

will give you, and perhaps speak a few gracious words; but that is not

essential, and you may hold your peace. At any rate, with that serenade

all your duties are ended."

"I should think they began with that--at least, according to my notion.

No, I can't accept. I can't afford to loiter about in Budapest, and have

everything here go to the dogs."

"What a greenhorn you are! You need not live in Budapest at all. If the

chief of the party telegraphs you that some great division is coming on

with respect to some important question, you go up, find the seat with

your name on it, sit down, and, when your name is called, you shout

'yes' or 'no,' according to the party's views, and then you travel home

again, and make your famous 'Lipto cheese.'"

"I have no intention of becoming a voting machine."

"There you are right. You are too spirited and much too talented for

that. You will deliver your maiden speech amid universal applause, and

become famous at once. You will be hated by the opposite parties, hated

and feared, and that will only stimulate your courage. You will be a

great man, and a blessing to your country. You can engage a trustworthy

man to manage your estate, and do well under such an arrangement; and

you will give your talent and your faculties to your country and your

party. It is your duty, and you are not the man to shrink from an

acknowledged duty. Besides, out of friendship for me, you cannot refuse.

I have positively staked my word on your acceptance; and then there is a

request from the party, with a hundred and twenty signatures. Look

here!"

He showed me a sheet of writing, with a long list of badly-scrawled

names underneath a few lines of writing. I still hesitated, when

Siegfried smiled, and, taking from his pocket a little bit of a letter,

perfumed with heliotrope, handed it to me.

"My aunt sends you this."

I broke the rose-coloured wax, and drew out a tiny piece of

bristol-board with the signature of Countess Diodora Vernöczy. Its

contents were as follows:--

"Pray accept the nomination."

That was all. But what all the persuasions, all the allusions to

country, race, patriotism, and religion had not effected, these few

Hungarian words, written in a fine, aristocratic hand, did at once. They

persuaded me, and I accepted. Yet I had never seen the lady who had

written these words, and did not even know whether she was young or old,

beautiful or ugly! She was a woman, and that sufficed. No! the Devil is

not dead; here is his hoof.

How I triumphed and how I fell I have told you already. If I had the

gift of Virgilius Maro, and could speak or write in hexameters, in such

verses I would compose the "Æneid" of my career as a belligerent. As it

is, you can read it all, described in somewhat unflattering language, in

the Hungarian newspapers of the period. There is a whole history of

bribery, corruption, intimidation, and similar crimes committed in my

name, related in those papers, and you may read of the horrible fraud

that was practised in offering the vote of a dead man. The epithets

"cheat," "deceiver," "liar," and so forth were freely and frequently

attached to my name; and then followed the shameful annulment of the

election, and I was sent home--a broken, disgraced, snuffed-out

wretch--a dead man, indeed!

There is something fearful, something terribly cruel and unjust, in such

a moral cudgelling to death, for those who cast the stones are not a

whit better than their victim. A common criminal, murderer,

counterfeiter, or forger may procure a pardon, and rehabilitate himself

in time; but a man that has furnished society with amusement and been

laughed to death is never again allowed to hold up his head and show his

face. I was nearly mad with shame and disgrace. What should I do with

myself now--now that I was nothing but a broken tool--I, who might have

been a scientific celebrity, a light in the profession? I could not go

back to Vienna for very shame. A flouted, ridiculed man cannot be a

doctor. A doctor must be respected, trusted, even revered, like a

priest. For me there was nothing but to hide myself in my own house,

shut the doors against everybody, and live the life of a hermit--the

life of my Uncle Diogenes.

I need not have shut my doors; not a soul demanded admittance. I really

think my dear friends made a circuit around my château when they had to

pass through my village.

The first day I remained shut up in my room; the second I paced the

garden walks in a furious rage; the third I noticed that I had

shamefully neglected my uncle's dearly-cherished garden since I had

abandoned myself to the mania of politics. The carefully tended Isabella

grapes wound their tender twigs up and around an apple tree; the roses

were full of water shoots; the American lilies choked up with dead

nettles. Wasps' nests were hanging from the branches of the trees, and

giant ants had built their pyramids on the foot-path; and the hedgehogs

boldly invaded the lawn as I passed. As I strolled, my eye fell upon a

little flower which I recognised as a favourite from my dear mother's

garden; I observed a glowing alkermes, an Oriental corn-rose, then again

an artichoke, overgrown with vile weeds. All at once I found myself

working away with garden-knife, shovel, and spade, pruning, weeding, and

tying up the twigs and branches, just as Uncle Diogenes had done.

By night I had smoked out the wasps, put the little bower to rights,

and, hardly knowing how or why, I had gone into my uncle's

turret-chamber instead of my own bedroom. And why not be as he had been?

I asked myself. Here at least I could meet with no shame, no

disappointment, and no deception. All was well. I should be a gardener

in summer and a museum-keeper in winter, and so the time would pass with

me as it passed with him. No doubt, in time, this solitary, secluded

life would not be so irksome to me as now. The social instinct would die

out; and, left to rural pleasures and occupations, the polish would be

rubbed off me, and in appearance also I should be as my Uncle Diogenes

had been. I gave up shaving, dressed shabbily, and ordered a dinner of

pork and potatoes, which disgusted me. I ceased to drink wine, because I

was no toper to enjoy drinking alone, and in the course of two or three

days I had a hearty indigestion, which at least recalled me from my

self-tormenting course so far as my inward man was concerned. In outward

appearance I had a beard of a week's growth, wore a pair of coarse

breeches and high top-boots, because in low boots I could not ramble

about in garden and field as I did.

My valet was in despair; the good old man had known me for years, and

was very faithful to me. Of course, he dared not ask questions, but he

threw me such appealing glances that I was strongly tempted to pour out

all my burning shame and rage to him, since I had nobody else to make a

confidant of. It was a very, very miserable time, and it lasted

something more than a week--a week, I say! I thought it a century at the

least.

XIII.

THE VALKYRS.

It was about ten or twelve days after my discomfiture, and a beautiful

afternoon. I was standing in my front garden, attired, as I usually had

been of late, in coarse breeches, muddy top-boots, a not very clean

linen blouse, and a broad, rough straw hat on my head. My face was rough

and adorned with bristles. I do not think that anybody coming upon me

unawares would have taken me for anything but a Slav garden labourer.

Presently I heard the gallop of horses, and, looking through the new and

very handsome iron trellis in front of the building, I saw three Amazons

riding up to the house. I did not know them, and supposed them to be

strangers in the country, approaching in order to admire the curious old

building. They wore long black riding-habits, all three alike, with blue

veils tied around their high beavers and entirely concealing their

faces. One of them was a real Zenobia figure: tall of stature, regal in

gait, a magnificent creature! The second was tall and slender, and slow

and stately in movement. The third was a tiny little figure, but full of

nervous vitality and energy. Opposite to the verandah of my house they

checked their horses, and looked through the trellis at me as if they

expected me to run out, and give them the desired information. The

tall, slender lady rode nearer to the gate and looked haughtily in,

while the little girl-rider cried out:

"_Tu y serais_!" Then she beckoned the groom, who was waiting behind

them, to come nearer and hand her a little wooden case with a round

glass set in at the front--a little photograph-apparatus.

"Well," thought I, "these are amateur photographers, and Dumany Castle

has apparently pleased their eye, and they want to immortalise it in the

pages of their albums--an interesting object!"

I was standing near the fence, by the side of a flowering rose-bush. I

held a spade in my hand, and was just in the act of putting it to its

proper use when the lady directed her camera toward me. I thought it was

rather a clever performance for a person on horseback.

"_Ne remuez pas, mon cher_!" cried the lady, as I lifted the spade. Of

course the Slav gardener, whom I resembled, was bound to understand her

French prattle. So there I stood, with uplifted spade in hand, until the

lady had finished her picture, and then she released me with a "_Merci,

mon garçon_!" and I, hardly able to keep my composure, answered in Slav,

"_Dobri nocz, mladi panyicska_," which means "Good night, miss!"

The ladies broke out into a merry laugh, returned the apparatus to the

groom, and rode off, laughing because the slender lady had been included

in the picture. I laughed also as I looked after them, and I said to

myself, "Now I shall not utterly die, '_non omnis moriar_.' The Valkyrs

have come to pick up the fallen hero and carry him into their Walhalla,

which in all probability is bound in morocco leather with silver

clasps."

The same evening I had another surprise. My friend Siegfried drove up to

my house, sprang from his barouche, and, seeing me, he ran up and

embraced me tenderly.

"So you know me still?" asked I.

"Know you? It would be no wonder if I had not recognised you as you look

now! Do you know that with a week's growth of beard and moustache a man

looks like a gorilla?"

"Well then, I look like the progenitor of mankind, if Darwin is to be

believed."

"I say, it's high time I came! otherwise you would cease to be a

Christian, and become one of those detestable naturalists." With that

Siegfried ordered his coachman to walk the horses about, feed them,

water them, and prepare for the drive home after supper. So I had to

give orders for a supper, and remember that I was not yet my Uncle

Diogenes, but his nephew and a gentleman, and this friend of mine a

veritable Count, who expected me to give him a good supper. "After

supper you must come with me," said Siegfried, decidedly.

"I! Where?"

"To Vernöcze, to visit me! Have you not got my letter?"

"I received a letter. I have it in my blouse-pocket yet, but--"

"You have not opened it, nor looked at it yet?"

"No. I thought that if anybody wrote to me now, he either wanted to

insult me or call me to some kind of a reckoning. I thought there was

time for both."

"Oh, you stupid fellow! Where is that letter? I want you to read it at

once!"

I took out the letter, opened it, and read:--

"DEAR NELL,--Our party decided at yesterday's meeting to support

your name at all odds against the ensuing new election, and carry

you through at any cost. My aunt wants to inform you of some very

serious matter, so she begs you to pay her a visit on Wednesday

next.--Yours, as ever,

"SIGID."

The previous day had been Wednesday, and the letter had been in my

pocket for the last four days. I confess that I felt a glow after

reading these lines. Something like joy, like exultation, filled me,

that after all I was not dead and buried there in that house, not an

utter laughing-stock, and that my name was not hooted by friend and

enemy alike. I still had noble friends. They remembered me, acted for

me, endeavoured to avenge me, and rehabilitate me. It was an intense

feeling of relief, of pride, of happiness; but I tried to hide my

sensations and play the Cincinnatus a little longer. When Siegfried

said, "We expected you all day yesterday; but as you did not come I

concluded to come over and look after you," I replied, "I had not read

the letter; but if I had, it would hardly have been otherwise. I cannot

go from home at present."

"Why! what is the matter with you? You are not going to play Uncle

Diogenes, are you? Simple civility might have induced you to come over

to Vernöcze. You are due there for ever so long."

"You are very kind; but, you see, the Vice-Governor does not send his

sentinels to guard the iron chest with the money, and so I have to guard

it myself; and then, you see, I am busy budding my 'Marshal Niel' and

'Sultan of Morocco' roses--it is their season."

Siegfried broke into a merry laugh. "The dear boy is actually trying to

live after the pattern of that exemplary old uncle of his. Now, don't

make a fool of yourself, old fellow, and don't make believe that you

like baked potatoes and curds. I tell you I want a good supper, and

after that I'll take you with me. You can take your rose-scions with

you. My gardener will be thankful for them. We have a lot of

water-shoots in our garden."

We had a good supper, and after the first glass of wine I felt the gloom

vanish from me entirely. Siegfried had brought me good news. The new

election was to take place in twenty days. Our party was firm as a rock,

and the enemy was disheartened and short of money, as the Maticza

Society, which had given up all hope of driving me away from the estate,

would not furnish them with more funds. Now they had reunited to a last

desperate method, and their candidate was about to unfold the

anti-Semitic flag, in this way driving all intelligent, Liberal

voters--or those at least who assumed the name, and all the Jews with

their money, influence, and keenness--straight into our arms, so that

our success was undoubted. In order to silence all accusations of

bribery, of feasting the voters, and so forth, Countess Diodora,

Siegfried's aunt, was ready to keep open house in Vernöcze for our

political friends, and so there would be no need of engaging any public

restaurants or wine-shops. Siegfried told me that Countess Diodora was a

very active champion of our party, and very influential, too. Besides,

she was very much interested in me personally.

"I am sure I am very grateful to her ladyship, and shall take the

liberty of telling her so, to-morrow," I said--"the more grateful, as I

really do not know how I could have merited such an interest."

He smiled. "Merit is not everything," he said. "But Aunt Diodora is a

little vexed at your want of politeness. You should have come and paid

your homage long ago. Her ladyship really threatened the other day that

some day she would come over with the two little ones and fetch you, if

not personally, at least in effigy. They have photographic apparatus,

and are very clever amateur photographers."

I could not suppress an exclamation, and then I related the little

adventure of the afternoon. He laughed. "Oh, no question as to their

identity! Sure enough, it was my aunt and the girls! That queenly Amazon

is my aunt, Countess Diodora. You are surprised? I see, you supposed

that an aunt must necessarily be some aged, corpulent lady, fond of her

game of 'patience,' and secretly indulging in a sip. My aunt is but one

year my senior, and I am barely thirty. My aunt is a classical beauty,

highly intellectual, and very talented; quite a female phenomenon. That

tall, slender girl is Countess Flamma, a miracle of beauty and virtue;

and that tiny creature was the little Kobold, Puck, or whatever else you

may call her, Cousin Cenni. She is the most skilful photographer of the

three, and it was she who told you not to move, and took you with spade

in hand. That's the best joke I ever heard! How vexed Countess Cenni

will feel on discovering the mistake! She is a little vixen, and full of

mischief. If any of the young dandies tries to court her, she bids him

go bear-hunting with her and show his valour. My woods are full of

bears. I have shot three, but there are a lot of them alive still, and

they do a deal of damage. So, if Cenni invites you, which no doubt she

will, you need not be afraid of want of game."

I was dazzled, flattered, and surprised. What a difference between these

ladies of the high aristocracy and the daughters of our country gentry!

As if they really belonged to a different world, lived on a different

planet. One of them assuming the lead in politics, another bear-hunting

and photographing. The third, that tall, slender, somewhat haughty, but

modest girl, who had approached to admire my roses, pleased me best; and

then, too, their names--"Diodora! Cenni! Flamma!" The first domineering,

imposing; the second with a touch of the Bohemian or the gipsy; the

third bewitching, enticing, a flame! Oh, what a moth I should make!

I did not show much further resistance, but was willing enough to go

with Siegfried. I did not even take the trouble of locking the

turret-chamber, in which the precious iron chest stood, with my own

hands, but ordered my valet to perform that duty and take care of the

key. I went out into the garden, and cut all the blooming "Sultan of

Morocco" roses and carefully wrapped them up with wet moss; and all the

way I held them in my hand for fear of injuring them.

So the Valkyrs were indeed taking away the fallen hero to Walhalla,

their own abode.

"Where is Walhalla, and what is it like? Does anybody know? If only

somebody might return and tell us!"

"Well, I have been there, and I have returned, and I will tell you."