Part II.

I.

THE SEA-DOVE.

From Dumanyfalva to Vernöcze the high-road makes a circuit of a two

hours' ride, but we took a short cut by a cross-road through Siegfried's

deer-park, which is about ten thousand acres in extent. The whole park

was fenced in with high iron railings, and this fence alone had cost the

neat little sum of one hundred and fifty thousand florins. Yet it was

worth its cost, for, before its erection, the Vernöczys had to pay

yearly about twenty-five thousand florins for damage done by their game

upon the crops in the neighbouring fields. At the big iron gate a ranger

with two loaded rifles was waiting for us. He handed the rifles to the

two servants, and then took his seat on the box with the coachman.

It was a beautiful wood through which we drove--all of giant larch trees

of a century's growth, perfuming the air with ambrosial odours. The

bright rays from our lanterns attracted the deer, and they stood gazing

at us with their glittering eyes. One of the bucks bellowed at us, and

one of the little fawns came almost under the wheels. Pheasants,

startled from sleep by the noise of our wheels, soared above our heads.

From the depths of the forest mysterious voices met our ears: the

woodcock's hoarse call, the roebuck's deep bellow, the wild boar's

grunt, the squirrel's chatter, and the shrill cries which announce the

presence of the wild peacock. What a difference between this lordly

forest and my small twenty-acre park! Red squirrels, gray squirrels,

gambolling among the boughs, playing with acorns and hazelnuts;

thrushes, blackbirds, nightingales, and greenfinches, chirruping and

twittering, were all the game I had.

In vain we endeavour to bring high nobility and plain gentry into one

class. They are divided by the game-park. We are only visitors there,

kindly invited, kindly received, but visitors still, and we can never

repay the compliment. Therefore I consider we should always think twice

before we accept the invitation.

It was past midnight when we finally arrived at Siegfried's

shooting-box, a beautiful pavilion in the Swiss style, with a large

verandah to the east, facing the magnificent château. Between the two

buildings extended a clear, broad lake, with silvery willows on the

nearer side, and grand old lime-trees on the side toward the mansion.

Graceful white and black swans swam on the lake, and two tiny little

wherries lay ready for a boating excursion. The south side of the

shooting-box had "altdeutsch" windows of coloured glass, and wooden

shutters with heart-shaped perforations on the outside. On the nearer

side of the lodge was a beautiful green lawn and a few somewhat

neglected rose-beds.

The shooting-box was a comfortably large and luxuriously-furnished

building, and afforded accommodation for thirty guests. The couches in

the different sleeping apartments were all covered with deerskin

spreads, and the furniture was all in harmony with the purpose and style

of the building.

I left my window ajar for the night, so as to be up early, and my plan

succeeded. The dew still glittered upon the tender petals of the roses

when I was up and sauntering among the flowers. I had brought my

"Malmaison" and "Sultan of Morocco" roses with me, and also my

budding-knife and the sap for budding. "What a surprise for them," I

thought, "when they find these beautiful flowers instead of the wild

suckers." I had put my roses into a glass of water, and was now

preparing for the performance by cutting off the collateral shoots and

removing the inconvenient thorns. Just as I had taken one of the "Sultan

of Morocco" roses out of the water, I heard steps on the gravel, and a

musical voice cried--

"Gardener, do you hear?"

I turned around, and beheld two beautiful young girls hurrying toward

me. One of them, a tiny little creature, was of the blonde type, with

long, golden curls and a face of cream and roses. One startling,

bewitching little black mole was seen on one of the dimpled cheeks. Her

eyebrows were dense, of a golden-brown, and arched over a pair of large,

glittering brown eyes. The corners of her little mouth curved upward in

a smile, and the cherry lips were always open and moving. Her little

hands were busy gesticulating, explaining, acting, and never at rest; a

picture of the entire little personage.

The other girl was a tall, slender, willow-like figure, with raven hair

pushed high above the marble forehead. Her skin was clear and

transparent, but with hardly a tinge of colour. Her straight, black

brows and long black lashes overhung a pair of deep blue, or rather

sea-green, eyes, and her little coral mouth was so small that the idea

struck me that it must hurt her to speak, and therefore she liked to

hold her peace.

Both were in morning dress, appropriate to the country. The blonde wore

a dress of some sort of light Japanese silk, covered with a pattern of

great painted birds and flowers. The dark girl had a Nile-blue gown of

some light material, and in style somewhat resembling the Greek.

The verandah had prevented me from perceiving their approach. Now they

hastened toward me with the easy composure with which we meet some old

friend, or--a servant. Of course, I had no difficulty in recognising the

equestrian amateurs of the previous day, and it was easy to guess that

they repeated their mistake of that afternoon, by taking me for a

gardener. I had no intention of undeceiving them, and did not take off

my hat, but stood with the "Sultan of Morocco" between my teeth, and my

hands engaged with the budding-knife.

"Do you hear?" said the little blonde, now coming near; "cut me a bud

of these 'Gloire de Dijons.' No! one of these 'Marshal Niels'; not this,

the other, that is just opening!"

I was correctly dressed for the occasion, and quite in proper style for

a country visit: tanned shoes, knickerbocker jacket, Pepita waistcoat,

Madapolam shirt-collar, Bismarck _en colère_ scarf, Panama hat. "My

darling, does not that content you?" Still these girls took me for a

servant. Well, let it pass!

I cut off one of the roses, and began to pare off the thorns with my

knife, when she angrily stamped her little foot on the grass. "What are

you paring the thorns off for? I don't like a rose without thorns, I

want a rose with thorns; this looks stripped!" and, pulling the rose out

of my hand, she held it over to her companion.

"_Tiens! Ca m'embête_!"

To her she spoke French; to me, German. The girl took the rose without a

word; for her it was good enough without the thorns. I prepared to cut

another bud for the capricious fair one, when she asked, "What rose is

that in your mouth?"

"A Sultan of Morocco," I said, taking the rose from my lips.

"Give me this," with an imperative gesture.

"This is for grafting," I tried to explain.

"But I want it!" was the haughty reply, and she impatiently held out her

bit of a hand for the rose. I handed it to her, and for a moment she

buried her little nose in it and then tried to fasten it to her dress.

Presently a thought seemed to strike her, for she lifted the rose to

her lips, and then, turning to me again, asked--

"Has the Count returned home?"

"He has," I answered.

"He did not come alone? A gentleman came with him, did he not?"

I answered in the affirmative.

"Are they asleep yet, do you think? Which is his window?"

"Whose? The Count's?"

"No, that I know! The stranger's?"

"The one that is open," I said, wondering what she meant. She looked

around, and observed a double step-ladder standing in front of a tree.

"Bring that ladder," she said to me, "and put it in front of that

window."

I began to perceive her intention, and, much amused, I fetched the

ladder. "Shall I hold it?" I asked, with seeming innocence.

"No. Go back to your work!"

I submitted, and went back to my roses, where the other girl was still

standing. The little blonde vixen, as Siegfried had called her, went up

the ladder, throwing me a haughty glance because I had the impertinence

to watch her movements.

As I prepared for work again, I noticed that in the chalice of each

flower, two or more green cetonias were to be found. The cetonia beetle

is the deadliest foe of the rose, destroying it entirely, and since my

boyhood, when I used to practise gardening at home, and was taught to

kill a cetonia wherever I found it, I could not bear the sight of the

glittering, green beetle. I was just crushing one under my foot, when

the dark-haired girl near me cried out--

"Why do you kill that poor cetonia?"

"Because it injures the roses," I said.

"Well, let them alone! Who cares for the roses?"

"Who cares for the roses?" Is not that strange? A young girl taking the

side of the harmful destroyer against the innocent victim!

The blonde descended the ladder, and her face, her hands, and her walk

betrayed that she was vexed. I was very much amused. Was it not a joke

that she had climbed up to my window to present me with my own rose, the

rose she had taken out of my mouth? And was it not amusing to see her

angry, because I had had the sauciness to watch the movements of those

tiny slippered feet in pink stockings as they mounted the ladder and

revealed a bewitching little ankle?

The black-haired girl turned to her and complained--"See, he kills our

cetonias!" Whereupon the little one, with a queenly mien, stepped in

front of me and said--

"I forbid you to do that! Do not dare to hurt my cetonias!"

I could not repress a smile, as I answered, "I shall duly obey. I had no

right to interfere, as these cetonias do not belong to me."

"I really think that fellow is laughing at us!" said the little one,

with arching brows, when the other, who had been watching me for some

moments, made some whispered remark, and then the fair head and the dark

one were put close together in earnest consultation.

On one of my hands I wore an antique carnelian seal-ring, with my family

crest, and a large solitaire, the gift of a grateful patient. These

rings, rather unusual upon the finger of a common gardener, had caught

the eye of the dark-haired girl, and she could not but notice that my

hands and nails were not those of a labourer. For a while they looked

shyly at me, while they busied themselves in gathering into their garden

hats all the cetonias they could, as if afraid that, after their

departure, I should avenge myself by a general onslaught on their

_protégées_. Presently the blonde stepped up to me, and, touching the

carnelian on my hand with her finger, she said--

"Are you a nobleman?"

I answered by an anecdote.

"A German journalist had to translate an item on sea-turtles from an

English paper. He did not exactly understand what a turtle was; but he

know of turtle-doves, which are in German called _Turtel-tauben_, and,

as he did not want to trouble himself to look for the expression in a

dictionary, _turtle-doves_ it remained. He wrote of the bird, that it

comes out of the sea to the sand of the shore, lays its eggs in that

sand, carefully and safely scratching them in, and smoothing the surface

with its front paws. These front paws of a turtle-dove perplexed him,

and he did what he ought to have done before: he looked in the

dictionary and found that the sea-turtle was no dove at all."

"Hem!" said the little one, looking with charming astonishment at the

other girl; and then she turned to me again, and, lifting a threatening

little finger at me, she said--

"Now, don't you go and betray us to anybody. Promise!"

"You have my knightly word," I said; "_parole d'honneur_!" But, unable

to suppress my mirth any longer, I broke into a ringing laugh, and both

girls fled as fast as they could.

On returning to my room, I found Siegfried there. "My aunt's footman has

already been here to invite us to breakfast," he said. "When in the

country she is always an early riser, and so are the children. I wonder

they have not been running about yet. They used to."

I did not tell him that they had been running about already; but,

stepping up to the window, I found the rose which the fair girl had laid

upon the sill, and, fastening it in the button-hole of my jacket, made

ready to follow up the invitation for breakfast.

"Wouldn't you rather shave before going down?" asked Siegfried, with a

disapproving look at my face. "My valet has an easy hand, and is very

reliable."

"No, thank you!" I said, and with that I took his arm and we went down.

Near the lake was a mass of beautiful dolomite rock, a forerunner of the

high mountains further on. The face of the rock was all overgrown with

birch trees, and wild roses and other flowers were peeping out of the

thick moss and bush. At the foot of the rock was a clearing, surrounded

with pines, their drooping foliage forming a shady roof above the little

circuit of ground. In the wall of the rock was a grotto, overrun with

henna leaves, hedge-plant, and other creepers. Out of one of the walls

of the grotto broke, murmuring and rippling, a clear mountain spring,

which, meeting with another and uniting with it to form a rivulet,

flowed across the flowery plain, emptying itself into the lake by a

series of cascades.

In the centre of this space the breakfast-table was set--the shining

silver, the glittering crystal, and the creamy china forming a pleasant

contrast to the rural simplicity of the chairs and table and the green

roof and walls above and around.

Countess Diodora was already there, expecting us. The two girls were in

the grotto, pretending to be busy with the preparations for breakfast.

Countess Diodora was strikingly handsome. Tall of stature and fully

developed, her movements had all the elasticity of youth and all the

majesty of a goddess. Her Creole complexion was in harmony with the

great almond-shaped eyes, the Minerva forehead, Grecian nose, and

shell-shaped mouth with its coral-red lips. Her head was crowned with a

tiara of heavy black tresses, more precious and beautiful than any

artificial ornament.

Siegfried led me to her and presented me with the following words--

"At last I am able to introduce my hitherto invisible friend. Do not be

amazed at his present resemblance to our common progenitors, the

Simians--that is, if we believe the evolutionists; but our friend here

has no intention of claiming that affinity. His sprouting moustache and

beard are a token of patriotic zeal, and a sacrifice upon the altar of

national idiosyncrasy. Henceforth he will be known as a Hungarian in

appearance also, and nobody will be justified in calling him an

Austrian."

The lady smiled at the humorous introduction, and extended both her

hands, which were somewhat large, but magnificently shaped. Could I do

less than kiss both? The smile that flitted over her queenly features

gave her the appearance of a veritable goddess.

"Is it not odd," she asked, "that we know each other so well, yet have

never met until this moment?" Her voice was a rich, deep contralto, and

very sweet.

"I have already enjoyed the happiness of seeing your ladyship," said I,

smiling.

"Indeed? And where?"

"In my own garden. If I am not greatly mistaken, your ladyship and the

two young ladies, your cousins, were yesterday at the pains to

immortalise me by taking my photograph."

"Impossible!" she cried. "It could not have been you! With the spade in

hand, and--oh, it is too odd!" And she broke into a loud laugh.

A laughing Pallas! The two girls ran but of the grotto to see what the

staid Diodora was laughing at. "Come on, Cenni," said the lady to the

little blonde: "here is the gardener of yesterday; the one you have

photographed along with his garden."

But by that time the little one knew me well enough; she had recognised

the rose in my button-hole, and, with pretended anger, she ran toward

me, took hold of the collar of my jacket, and gave it a hearty pull.

"You are an artful and dangerous cheat and deceiver--that is what you

are!" she said. "Why did you deceive us this morning, and make sport of

us? Let us treat you as a gardener, and send you on errands? Why did not

you tell us who you were?"

Siegfried came to my help. "How could he? He did not know you; maybe he

took you for your own maids. If you had told him who you were, he would

have returned the compliment."

"But you won't betray us to anybody?" she said, holding up, as if in

prayer, her little hands, that looked like the delicate petals of the

white lily. "You won't tell anybody of our conversation at the rose

bushes? If you promise, I'll give you a kiss; I will, indeed!"

"But, Cenni!" cried Countess Diodora, shocked, "what expression is that

again?"

The little one looked like a scolded school-girl, who does not know what

crime she has been punished for, and said, poutingly--

"But I want him to keep the secret, and I must give him a reward."

"You always forget that you are no longer a little girl of twelve

years, but a grown-up young lady, although, God knows, you do not look

like it!" said the countess, with a humorous shake of the head.

"Now you great debater and future lawgiver, what do you say to this

offered reward? Answer _ex tripode_!" said Siegfried, laughingly.

"I say that I am no usurer, and cannot take unlawful interest," I

replied.

"Bravo! bravissimo! A usurer! Unlawful interest he calls a kiss! Oh,

what a moral fellow!" cried Siegfried; but Countess Diodora observed

that breakfast was waiting, and that we had time enough for ventilating

academic questions afterward.

At the table I sat between Countess Diodora and Countess Flamma. The

latter turned to me, and said in her quiet and sober way--

"But I discovered soon enough that the sea-turtle was not a sea-dove,

did I not?"

"What are you talking about sea-doves?" asked the countess; "it seems

you have secrets in common already."

I opened my mouth to answer, when the little blonde opposite to me

sprang up and put her little shell-coloured hand to my lips. "No

betrayal, if you please! You have given your knightly word!"

"I am mute!" I said, bowing to her with a smile.

"I declare!" said the countess, "knightly word, turtle-dove! Why, what

mystery is this? Flamma was complaining something about the cetonias."

"Oh, that is nothing," said Cenni, lightly, "and that may be spoken of;

but the 'step-ladder,' the 'Sultan of Morocco,' and the 'sea-dove' are

strict secrets, and never to be mentioned anywhere."

Siegfried clapped his hands in surprise. "Riddle after riddle! and to

think that I myself have brought this boy to the house only last night

for the first time in his life, and introduced him not an hour ago,

and--talk of his being shy in the company of ladies!--he is head over

ears in conspiracy with both of the girls, when I thought he had never

seen them, and they did not know him at all!"

II.

"WHAT IS THE DEVIL LIKE?"

"We not know him?" asked the little one. "Why, we have his photograph in

our album! Only he looks much nicer there. Such a Lord Byron face!"

"Well, this is really audacious!" cried Siegfried, "with such a face to

appear before ladies! Coarse and stubby like that of a Slav

field-labourer, and yet such a young lady as that calls it a Lord Byron

face! Now I see that the old proverb is right, and a man has to be but

one shade handsomer than the Devil, for women will find him handsome

enough."

"Only that the proverb is a paradox in itself. The Evil One is not ugly;

on the contrary, he is beautiful!" said Diodora.

"_Quien sabe_?" answered Siegfried. "I have seen his portrait in the

Greek churches, in a large wall-painting, and there he is represented as

a bandy-legged, ox-tailed, black-faced monster, with a pair of big horns

on his forehead. Then, again, I have seen the Devil in the opera, as

Göthe and Gounod's creation of Mephistopheles in _Faust_, and there he

wore a goat's-beard and red-feathered cap, was a little lame in one leg,

and had a baritone voice. He was not in the least beautiful."

"You ought to read Klopstock, then, and Milton," said Countess Diodora.

"Their Devils are enchantingly handsome men, with pale faces, and deep,

sorrowful eyes; and that is the real demon-type as given by the

classics: for, originally, the Devil was not known as an evil spirit,

but was an angel. Only he was haughty and ambitious, and tried to rival

and dethrone the Almighty. It was after he was defeated, and due

punishment was dealt to him, that he became the representative of Evil,

and, after the creation of man, the tempter and seducer."

"So part of the Devil's corruption is due to man kind," said Siegfried,

ironically.

"If you read the Cabalists and Gnostics you will learn how sinful pride

had its downfall, and the angel fell. Still, in all his humiliation and

his banishment from grace and glory, he never lost his beauty, and this

is natural; for who would listen to the temptations of an ugly monster?

A seducer must needs be handsome. In the old Jewish Scripture, from

before Moses' time, the Evil Spirit is represented by a woman, Lilith,

the ideal beauty. In the same manner Menander has painted Sybaris, and

of Socrates it is said that he lived in intimate friendship with the

demon."

Siegfried had made a desperate onslaught on the sandwiches; now he

turned in comical vexation to me, and said--

"Friend, brother, help! for this learned woman is slaying me with

pandects, and, if the Devil has such a champion, what can poor I do

against him?"

It was a difficult task. If I said that she was right, she would scorn

me as a simple, empty-headed flatterer. If, on the other hand, I tried

to contradict her, she was sure to conquer me with arguments. So I

thought I would plead scepticism.

"Indeed, I can't," was my reply. "All I have to say is that I do not

believe in the existence of an actual Devil at all. I positively deny

the existence of evil spirits or devils."

"Ah!" said the countess, astonished and seemingly dismayed, "do you know

that such a negation includes a denial of the fundamental truths of all

religion also? Turn wherever you will, and you will find that the Roman

Catholic faith expressly commands us to believe in the Devil. The

Protestants, with Martin Luther at the head, have in speech and writing

gone so far as to compose a whole Shamanism of the Devil's special

qualities; and so on in all positive religions. Are you an infidel, a

so-called Freethinker, and not a Christian?"

At first I smilingly referred her to Becker's "Bewitched World," which

made all belief in an actual Devil completely ridiculous, showing to

demonstration that such a being is simply impossible. She answered me

with Spinoza. I again spoke of Thomasius, whereupon the countess

declared me a Rationalist.

Siegfried smiled, and smoked his cigarette complacently, and the two

girls listened innocently and wonderingly to the strange dispute.

"You see, my lady," said I at last, "I am a physician, and I know of no

bodily or mental ailment that is without some foundation or reason. I

know of miasmata, spores, bacilli, as sources of bodily diseases, of

inherited or fancied maladies, infections, contagions, and their proper

remedies: vaccination, disinfection, prophylactics; but an invisible,

immaterial spirit, which we ought to know by the title of Devil, has

nothing to do with any of these. All evil-doers, murderers, etc., are

prompted to the mischief they do by some abnormity in their brains, or

by some powerful egotistic motive, as jealousy, revenge, greed,

ambition, etc.; but the temptation is always material--a benefit they

want to secure by their crime--never a spiritual Devil. We may fairly

say that all crimes committed without a visible motive are founded upon

lunacy, a disorder of the brain. I do not believe in one being, either

corporal or spiritual, that would do mischief purely for mischief's

sake, out of evil principle, of pure malice. I do not believe that any

being exists which would inflict sorrow on others just in order to

rejoice at the despair of the victims. The so-called hellish passions

and inclinations in man are really created by that which is beneath him,

the animal part of him, the material element, and it is superfluous to

look to that which is above him, a spirit, for a motive."

As I pronounced this conviction, the four persons present looked at each

other and then at me, in wonder and defiance, but without a word. For a

moment a chilly presentiment crept over me--a shadowy warning that the

declaration I had just made would prove the _fatum_ of my life.

As a physician, I had given very much attention to disturbances of the

mind; nervous distractions, diseases of the brain. In lunatic asylums I

had had frequent opportunity of observing the different manifestations

of extravagances of the mind diseased. There are cases in which

simulation is identical with the symptoms of actual insanity, others in

which it is mistaken for such; but still the simulator is never quite

sane. I had speculated about the hidden motives of apparently motiveless

crimes. I had seen a gallant youth, whose noble, manly features inspired

love and confidence, and who yet had murdered many victims of his

bestial desires; had lured them on, and killed them.

I had seen a tender, innocent, pleasant-looking young girl, with a

winning smile on her ruby lips, after she had poisoned all the members

of her family in turn; and I had known a miracle-working virgin, who had

for years and years befooled and deceived aged and experienced men. All

these and more I had seen, but all had possessed one common peculiarity

which betrayed them as belonging to that large and unhappy class we term

lunatics, and their mental disorder was revealed in a clear, glittering

glance, cold and keen as a steel blade. The moment that unlucky

assertion had escaped me, I saw my companions stare at each other and

then at me, and in the eyes of all four of them I clearly discerned and

recognised the same cold, keen, and gloomy expression. I felt a shock of

terror, and then I laughed at my own folly. A professional habit of

mentally examining and distinguishing all persons as sane and healthy,

or diseased, I thought, and I tried to joke the matter away.

"Let us make a bargain, countess! We will leave the demon to those who

cannot spare him; for there are people who would greatly protest against

being robbed of their devils--as, for instance, some Western nations who

worship him instead of God. They say God is good, and won't hurt them,

anyhow, but the Devil must be bribed by compliments to keep him from

doing mischief. Therefore they raise altars to him, and set up his

images with many ceremonies. The Yakoots and Chuckches believe in a

double creation, and think that all good things are created by God, and

all bad things by the Devil."

"It would not hurt you to be of the same creed," said Countess Diodora.

"For instance, to believe that the rose was created by God and the

cetonia by the Devil," I replied, smilingly.

"And why those?" she asked. "My niece has complained to me that you

crush these beautiful little beetles to death. In what have they

offended you?"

"Offended me? Do you hold me capable of such petty malice? I kill the

cetonias because they are the deadliest foes of the rose; or, rather, as

they love the rose, and in loving destroy the flower, I must call the

cetonia the most dangerous friend of the rose."

"However, the beetles are necessary to my nieces, and therefore they

must live."

"Necessary?" I cried. "How so?"

The blonde girl went into the grotto and, returning, brought with her a

large teak board, upon which a Chinese sun-bird was enamelled. The bird

was only half finished as yet, but it was the most artistic, tasteful,

and delightful enamel-work I had ever seen, and all of it was composed

of the delicate lids of the beetle-wings. The cetonias vary in colour:

some of them are red with a tinge of gold; others green and gold; others

again the colour of darkened copper, and still others in a metallic

blue, like steel. All these were carefully arranged and pasted upon the

teak board in a wonderful mosaic, the sun-bird's head and wings

consisting of red, its neck of blue, and its breast of green

cetonia-wings. I looked admiringly at the work. So, then, they had not

protected the cetonias out of some sentimental fancy for them, but for

industrial purposes. This changed my conception of the matter entirely;

for the better in some respects--in some for the worse.

"So you save the life of the beetle in order to rob them of their

wings?" I asked them, reproachfully.

"These are only their winter wings which we take off; their summer wings

they keep, and we give them their liberty again. It is summer now; they

have no need of their winter wings at present."

Well, this was girlish logic and philosophy: I have taken what I wanted,

you must make the best of what I have left you. Rather a striking piece

of egotism!

"Do you know that the cetonia contains poison?" asked I.

"What kind of poison?" was the inquiring response, given with great

quickness.

"The poison," I said, evasively, "that gives the motive to the Bánk-Bán

tragedy."

At these words Siegfried puffed a whole cloud of tobacco-smoke full in

my face, and at any other time I should have strongly resented the

insult; but this time he was right. The explanation was, even as an

allusion, objectionable in the presence of girls. Nevertheless I could

perceive through the cloud of smoke that the pale face of Flamma had

coloured violently, and that Cenni pouted and pushed the sun-bird away.

The innocents were not so very innocent, after all.

"Is not this beetle identical with the holy scarabæus of the Egyptians?"

asked Countess Diodora.

"No. Because the cetonia lives on roses; and of the holy scarabæus

Herodotus tells us that he dies of the odour of roses. As soon as the

roses begin to bloom the scarabæus vanishes."

This interested the girls, and we continued the subject. I told them of

the South American Hercules-beetle, that is as fond of liquor as any

human tippler, and I really thought that I had succeeded in turning the

conversation from the horned devil to the horned beetle, when Countess

Diodora said--

"You are too much of a naturalist. This won't do, and you must try to

amend. To deny God is bad enough, but He is kind and forgiving, and the

infidel may yet be saved; but to deny the Devil is sure destruction, for

the Devil knows no mercy, and he takes his revenge on the insulter."

I looked up astonished and met her eyes. Again I detected that

bewildering cold glitter, and with an involuntary shiver I turned away.

III.

THE FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER.

The same day our political friends and partisans came, and we held a

conference. From that day on I was a daily guest in Vernöcze, and when

occasionally I spent a night at home in my own house, next morning I was

sure to feel restless and uneasy, and persuaded myself that political

reasons required my presence in Vernöcze, and that I must make haste to

go there.

A number of times the illustrious ladies of the Vernöcze castle

descended from their lofty situation to pay a visit to my lowly house,

and on these occasions I played the host, and set before them what my

cellar and buttery afforded. Then I conducted them through the chambers

in which were stored my late uncle's beloved curiosities, and I told

them of the horrors of the olden time, and the history of this ancient

seat of my family. There was the story of a walled-up wife and murdered

lovers, and we had our "Woman in White" and our "Red Templar," who, at

the stroke of midnight, duly stalked through locked rooms and corridors,

and performed all the actions that could be expected of real and

respectable ghosts. These phantoms the countess rather envied me, for

Vernöcze could boast of no such token of old nobility; yet the

Vernöczys were counts and the Dumanys only plain gentry.

Of course, I was an ardent admirer of the three fairies, only I could

not exactly tell which of the three I admired most. Countess Diodora's

philosophical intellect impressed me as much as Countess Cenni's unruly

activity; and Countess Flamma's pensive silence affected me none the

less, and I looked at her with the reverential awe of the priest before

the Holy Virgin.

Only one thing puzzled me. Here were three beautiful, gifted, high-born,

and wealthy young women, and not one of them had a real, earnest, and

sincere suitor. Of course, there were a number of young aristocrats

paying court to them, and very much inclined to carry on a little bit of

flirtation; but all in an easy-going, although certainly very respectful

and distant way; but of a real, true attachment I could perceive no

sign. Once I had ventured a remark to this effect in Siegfried's

presence, whereupon he explained that the two younger countesses were

mere school-girls yet, and nobody would have the audacity to think of a

serious courtship in that quarter as yet, while, as to Countess Diodora,

she would never marry at all. She repudiated the very idea of marriage,

and would no doubt, sooner or later, enter a convent as abbess.

This explanation, to tell the truth, did not satisfy me. If the two

young ladies were such forbidden fruit at present, why bring them in

constant contact with young men? And, as to Countess Diodora's

intention to become a nun, I had my strong doubts. True, she was

religious, even to bigotry, but she was not averse to the pleasures of

the world, and I did not believe in her inclination to give them up of

her free will. I rather believed that men were afraid of her, for such

learned and strong-minded women can be only the wives of yet wiser and

more strong-minded men, or else of fools, who willingly become their

slaves.

To me Countess Diodora was conspicuously kind, and showed me an

exceptional preference--that is, she did me the honour to select me as

her antagonist in debate.

When she supported one paradox, I would support the opposite, and we

kept up a constant battle with intellectual weapons. She was a great

reader; so was I. She had travelled a good deal; so had I, and, as it

chanced, we had observed the same countries and scenes. On art,

architecture, literature, I gave judgment with the same startling

audacity as she, only that my opinions were in direct opposition to

hers.

Still in matters of politics our views were harmonious. I had the same

Conservative principles as she, and I heartily agreed with all that she

uttered on that point. This was the first step to our mutual

understanding. The second step was taken when we joined each other in

defence of our principles against persons of opposing views; and the

third step, which lifted me not only to a level with my new and

beautiful ally, but even above her, was gained by me in a controversy

on professional science, with especial relation to physicians. The

countess, in a very spirited bit of banter, ridiculed the whole

profession and its science, stating that, in her belief, our entire

pathology, therapeutic, etc., was not worth the sand strewn over the

prescriptions. She declared that in the treatment of internal maladies

medical science has made no progress since Galen's time, and our most

renowned professional celebrities are no wiser than Paracelsus. Our

medicines, according to her opinion, were either baneful poisons, or of

no higher sanative power, at the best, than the waters of Lourdes. She

also was afflicted with bodily pain at times, but never yet had she

submitted to any professional treatment. No physician had ever entered

her bed-room or parted the tapestry hangings around her bed, and never

yet had she tasted of any kind of medicine.

I listened complacently to her talk, and did not interrupt her with a

word. After she had finished, I said--

"Allow me to contradict, and, at the same time, convict you. You have

never spoken of your special ailment to me up to this moment. I have

never heard of it before this, and I need not put any questions either

to you or to others in regard to it. Yet, by simply looking at you, I

can tell you from what you are suffering--that you are a victim of

occasional nervous attacks of greater or less severity, and I can tell

you exactly how these paroxysms commence, what symptoms they show, and

all the particulars of your ailment."

She stared at me, quite perplexed. "You are right!" she said at last,

and there was not a man alive who could boast that she had ever said as

much to him. She asked me how I came to know or to guess the nature of

her sufferings, and I told her that I had had great experience in the

treatment of nervous disorders, and that her case was by no means

hopeless. That although it was impossible to entirely and permanently

cure the disease and drive away its attacks, yet it might be greatly

diminished. The paroxysms might be reduced in duration and violence, and

that without administering any poisonous drugs--simply by proper

massage.

"Then I am sorry that we have no female physicians as yet; for I would

never submit to that treatment from a male physician."

"And do you know that this shrinking is one of the symptoms of the

malady, and at the same time its main foundation?"

"How so?"

"Because, if your views of propriety were not distorted, you would apply

for help in time, and not wait until you are past cure; but you grow up

with the conviction that it is a shame and a degradation to confess your

physical weaknesses to a male physician, yet you are by no means

ashamed--nay, you consider it a duty and a virtue--to confess your

mental and moral failings to a priest, although he is a man as well as

the physician, and the sins you confess are sometimes more degrading and

shameful than the sores of your body."

She looked at me for quite a while. "Again you are right," she said, and

with that broke off the conversation.

At that period, every day brought some political meeting or party

conference, and the leaders of the coming elections, head-drummers, and

subalterns swarmed into Vernöcze, bringing all sorts of news, asking for

all sorts of information, and Countess Diodora was at the head of

everything--presiding at the councils, assisting them all with her

advice, never tired, never slackening in spirit or courage, and never

forgetting her position as hostess--and a bountiful hostess, too.

When the discussion approached the financial question, she said to me

with rare delicacy--

"This is no affair of yours; leave that to us. You can meanwhile go and

look for the girls in the park."

And I, in spite of my professional sagacity, in spite of the knowledge

and experience I had gained, I was such a greenhorn--such a simple

fool--that I actually believed in the existence of a fund raised for the

especial purpose of sending such shining political stars, such rare

celebrities, as the Honourable Cornelius Dumany, into Parliament, there

to enlighten the minds of his compatriots, and to be a blessing to his

country; although, if any one had asked me how I had deserved to be held

in such high esteem, I could not have found an answer! Oh, vanity and

conceit! How easily you are caught in the meshes of cunning deception!

The "girls," as they were invariably called, were on the lawn looking

for four-leaved clovers, and the little blonde declared that she was

bent on finding one, for whoever found it first was sure to be married

first. I laughed, and, looking down, I saw one little quatrefoil just at

my feet. I gathered it, and presented it to the little blonde countess,

but she refused to accept it. "No," she said, "everybody must keep his

own fortune. You have found the leaf, and you will get married first,

and within the year."

"Ought not I to know something of the coming happiness in advance?" I

asked, smilingly. "Surely I can't get married without my own knowledge!"

"Just you keep quiet. Mockery is not becoming to you; but tell us in

good earnest, why don't you marry? You ought to."

"Why, then, in good faith, I do not marry because the girls that would

not reject me I do not care for, and those that I might care for would

not accept me."

"How do you know? First tell us what qualities a girl must possess to

make you care for her."

"Well, I suppose I must obey your ladyship's wishes. In the first place,

then, she must be young and pretty; then she must be intellectual,

prudent, and well educated; and, finally, she must have a kind heart

and a sweet disposition; if she is merry and bright also, I shall like

her the better. Yes, there is something else: I should like my future

wife to be always elegant and stylish, and I should like to give her a

splendid home and keep her in luxury; but, as my own little Slav kingdom

is not sufficient for my notion of the term, therefore she must also

have a fortune of her own. Yet, if a woman, or let me rather say a young

girl, should possess all these qualities at once, which I think

unlikely, I would not take her if I were not fully convinced that she

married me for love. So, you see, with these pretensions I am likely to

live and die a bachelor."

"Not necessarily. I, for instance, know a lady who answers to your

description as if you had drawn her portrait."

"Indeed? You seem bent on proving that the four-leaved clover was a true

prophet of marriage. You want to make the match?"

"Why not? But, indeed, I am speaking in good faith. Why don't you marry

Aunt Diodora?"

"Because I have more sense than those poor birds who shatter their heads

and beaks in flying against the reflected rays of the lighthouse."

"I don't understand the simile."

"Do you know the story of Turandot?"

"No. Novels and comedies I dare not read yet; but I should like to know,

for Aunty Diodora is nicknamed 'Princess Turandot.' I have often heard

her spoken of by that name. I think that Turandot must be a fictitious

creature, who tortures all her suitors to death, for aunty is also very

unkind to them. Only that is no fault of hers; it is her misfortune to

have nobody sue for her hand except simpletons. All these sweet-spoken,

flattering, aping, thought-snatching, cajoling, empty-headed wooers my

aunt calls monkeys, and not men. A man must have the courage to oppose

her, defend his own opinion against her and all the world, to gain her

respect and her confidence. This you have done. Oh, we girls know well

enough what impression a man has made on another girl!"

This was a startling confession. Here was a little girl, who was treated

and spoken of as quite a baby; yet, in spite of her unacquaintance with

novels and comedies, she seemed to be very well versed in all matters of

love and matrimony.

"Yes," she continued, "I have noticed it plainly enough, and quite

frequently. Whenever you are away she is gloomy, and melancholy, and out

of spirits; but, as soon as she sees you or hears your voice, she

brightens up and is good-humoured and pleasant. When, the other day,

Flamma and I had made some remark about you--some light jest--she gave

us such a sermon! telling us that men were all so different, and that

you were, among them, like a real diamond among coloured glass. Oh, if I

could tell you all! But you are proud and disdainful, I see. Perhaps you

want to wait until Countess Diodora Vernöczy makes you a humble offer of

her hand, and then maybe you would be proud, and consider about it."

"Perhaps I should. Give me leave, ladies, to tell you a story--the

history of a very intimate friend, and from beginning to the end true to

the letter. I shall invent nothing."

IV.

THE HISTORY OF MY FRIEND.

As soon as I promised them a story, the two young girls sat down on a

low bench beneath a jasmine bush, and I sat down on the bowling-green at

their feet; or, rather, I kneeled there before them. Do not think that

we were left without a proper guard, for we could be seen from the

balcony of the house, and on the mountain-ash tree was an old

missel-thrush that kept on chirruping and twittering, "Take care, you

boy! take care!"

The young ladies had stripped a heap of the slender Pimprinpáre stalks,

from which they began to braid chains and other ornaments, while I

related the following story:--

"My friend is a descendant of the noblest families of Hungary, and a

count by birth. During the Revolution of 1848 he was one of the bravest

and most heroic defenders of the national cause, and his great personal

attractions, manly beauty, athletic strength, intellectual power, and

high moral integrity, united with an iron will and the tender heart of a

woman, made him distinguished above many. Of him it was said that, even

as a man, he obeyed every command of his mother, but could never be made

to obey that of any potentate of the world."

"Is that paragon of a man alive yet?" asked Cenni.

"He is. Only he is an old eagle now, for our friendship dates from the

time when he gave me a ride on his knees, while I blew the whistle he

had brought me. During our national struggle for liberty in 1848 he

served as a captain of the ---- Hussars, and, after the Russian

invasion, and the final overthrow of the national cause, he made good

his escape to England. Of course, his lands and goods were seized, and

he was sentenced to death; but, as he could not be caught and hanged in

person, he was hanged in effigy--that is, his portrait was nailed to the

gallows.

"The same high qualities which had distinguished him at home

distinguished him abroad. A great many Hungarian refugees had found a

home in England, especially in that gigantic metropolis, London; and it

is said of them, in general, that of all political emigrants they

behaved best. They never quarrelled, never grumbled, and never

conspired. Everyone hastened to find a mode of earning a decent living

for himself, and none of them were too proud or too lazy to work. Every

one of them was honestly and diligently engaged in some business.

"My friend had some acquaintances among the English nobility, and he was

soon introduced, and speedily became at home in English high life. Among

those aristocratic families with which he had frequent intercourse was

one in which there was a young girl, an orphan and an heiress. She was

beautiful and intellectual, like Countess Diodora, and competition for

her hand was naturally high among the young and old bachelors, and

marriageable men of their set. Singularly enough, the young stranger,

who never thought of such good fortune, at last felt compelled to

believe that the open preference the lady showed him was more than

common courtesy, and more than the friendly, even sisterly regard with

which most ladies of his acquaintance honoured him. He could not but

admire her beauty, her grace, and accomplishments, and he was ready and

willing enough to fall in love with so much charm and loveliness. His

courtship, if so it must be termed, although the lady was doing the

greater part of the wooing, was short and successful, and they were

married.

"The marriage took place on the Isle of Wight, at that time the

favourite haunt of the Hungarian refugees. Two of the latter, the one a

renowned politician, the other a famous general, were witnesses, and the

wedding breakfast was quite an event. But when, after the bridal cake

had been cut and the toasts drunk, the guests retired, and the young

couple were left alone, the fair young bride said to the happy groom:--

"'I beg your pardon for leaving you to your own company, but I must

retire to change my dress, for my yacht is waiting, and I shall start

for France in two hours.'

"He gazed at her in utter amazement 'Why, dearest,' he said, 'don't you

know that Louis Napoleon denies us Hungarians even the privilege of

passing through France, and that for me to go there is equivalent to

imprisonment, possibly death?'

"'I know it, and I do not ask you to accompany me. I shall go there

alone. I yearned for independence and liberty, and for the coming years

I could get it only as a married woman. I was in need of a husband, or

of his name, and my choice fell upon you, because I did not dare to play

this trick on one of our English Hotspurs. Of you I know that you are

too gentle and too noble withal to injure a woman. So good-bye to you,

count, for I do not think that we shall ever set eyes on each other

again!'

"With that the fair goddess left her husband of two hours' standing,

humiliated, stunned, without money, bereft of his former occupation, to

which, as her husband, he could not return; left him for ever; and he

was such a gentle fool that he did not even for a moment think of

revenge upon the woman who had robbed him of the last and only treasure

he possessed, his spotless name and honour, and had ruined him for ever.

"For twenty-five years the poor victim of the fair deceiver could not

with decency extricate himself from the meshes of the net which she had

thrown over him. After some years he found a good, pure, and true heart

that was full to the brim with love for the unhappy man--so much so that

she sacrificed position, family, and reputation for his sake, and

accompanied him from country to country, through danger and poverty,

sharing his cares and troubles, and consoling him with her love and

fidelity. To this woman, who was his real wife, he could not give the

legal name and position she merited, and the curse that had been laid on

his own life was heavy upon his innocent children, for he could not

carry them to the baptismal font, could not christen them as his own. In

England he could not secure a divorce, to France he could not go, and

home to Hungary he dared not come. For twenty-five years he dragged

these heavy chains on his weary limbs, until Hungary had risen from her

prostration, had become a constitutional state with a free Parliament,

and had crowned her king, and called home her banished children from the

nooks and corners of the world. Then only, when again at home and in

full possession of his ancestral castle and estates, then only a legal

divorce set him at liberty and left him free to bestow his name upon his

faithful, loving companion and their children. But when that time had at

last arrived, my friend was an old man with silvery beard and a bald

head. The fairy that was the cause of so much suffering had taken

nothing of him but his name, of which she was in need; but what is a

name? Nothing but the lid, the tender coverlet of the beetle's wing. She

did not kill the poor beetle, and she set him free; he was allowed to

live with his winter wings."

During the recital of this story, Cenni's rosy countenance was crimsoned

through and through, while Flamma's pale face was overspread with an

almost deadly pallor, and, as I spoke the final words, the girls looked

at each other in silence. "So, you see," I continued, "if such a thing

could happen to a man like my friend, the bearer of a great name, noble,

brave, accomplished, and handsome, what would be my fate if I should

attempt to do what he did--marry a beauty and an heiress? I, that am

nothing but a runaway doctor, an expelled Member of Parliament, and a

Slav King! one who, from his appearance, is mistaken for his own

subject."

"No! no!" said Cenni, taking hold of both my hands, "there you are

mistaken, and--and I am sure you do not know your own worth!"

At that moment the jasmine-bush was parted, and Siegfried's voice asked,

"May I take the liberty to interrupt these tender confessions?"

At the sound of Siegfried's voice we all sprang from our seats, and

Cenni, throwing the chain she had braided on his neck, said, "You are a

great, naughty, good-for-nothing fellow! What do you want?"

"This noble and gallant knight of yours. He is wanted by his

executioners--that is, by the election leaders that are to be."

The two young girls laughed, and ran to the little lake for a boating

trip, and I asked Siegfried, "What do these men want from me? What is

their business with me?"

"Oh, nothing!" he said, coolly. "They have not come; it is I who have

business to speak of with you, and quickly, too, for I may be too late

already. My dear boy, even a friend has something that he wants to keep

for himself and does not want to share with his dearest friend--his

love! You are making love to Cenni, although you must have seen that I

am over ears in love with her myself."

"I have seen nothing of the kind, and I give you my word that I never

thought of making love to her."

"Possibly so; but then she makes love to you, and that renders matters

worse yet."

"I assure you that your jealousy leads you into error."

"Oh! Do you think we have no telescopes in the house? I have witnessed

the last interesting scene as if I were on the spot."

"Then I can only wish that your hearing might have been as much

increased by some instrument as your vision by the telescope, so that

you might have heard our discourse, and not guessed at it by sight."

"Did you not find a four-leaved clover, and offer it to Cenni?"

"Yes, here it is; take it, my boy, and marry your Cenni, with my

blessing!"

"Take care! I may take you at your word!"

"And welcome! I'll be your best man."

"That's a bargain. And, now that I see that you are really not going to

play the traitor with me, I'll tell you the whole truth. I am mad with

love for Cenni; and then, too, she has a million florins from her

grandfather, and this money would come in well to help me carry out my

plans. But my aunt does not consent to give the girl to me. She says I

am a libertine, a _frivol viveur_, etc., and she won't take the

responsibility of trusting me with the dear child."

"Tell her you will reform, you will change after marriage."

"That I have repeatedly tried, but she refuses to believe me. Then

there is that million. As long as the girl is unmarried and a minor, my

aunt takes her revenues, and, among her other accomplishments, my aunt

is a very fair accountant. She has found out that the girl cannot eat

figs and candies in a year to the amount of sixty thousand florins, so

she is not over-willing to part with her at all. But I am not going to

play the Tantalus for years, and run the risk of having the girl

snatched from me by some jackanapes or rascal or another. Pardon!"

"Never mind! I shan't pick up the 'jackanapes' or the 'rascal.' They do

not belong to me."

"Then help me carry out my plan. Do you promise?"

"By all means."

"Thank you. But let me unfold my plan. Cenni and I will be married

clandestinely behind Aunt Diodora's back. My aunt is sometimes subject

to severe neuralgic attacks, and, as she never calls a physician and

never takes any remedies for her pains, she suffers all day. During

these paroxysms of her nerves she remains all day in a darkened room,

and will not allow anybody to stay with her but Flamma. That kind soul

is with her at such times, administering to her comforts, smoothing her

pillows, etc., and in return she is allowed to read Flammarion, or one

of Verne's harmless fictions, in the adjoining sitting-room. On such

days Cenni is entirely at liberty, and not watched by anybody, because

that sleepy governess the girls have is hardly worth mentioning. Now

listen. I keep here, concealed in my shooting-box, a priest--a Capuchin

monk--Father Paphuntius. He seems to be a jolly good fellow, and he has

an open hand. In the park there is a little memorial chapel, erected by

one of my ancestors in honour of St. Vincent de Paul. In that chapel we

will exchange vows. You and Muckicza shall be my witnesses. Now you have

given me your promise, will you stick to your word?"

"By all means! Only after the marriage is perfected give me leave to run

away as fast as possible; for I should not dare to look your aunt in the

face after such perfidy on my part."

"_Au contraire_, you shall not run, for you must stay and help me out

further. I have chosen you in your capacity as physician to persuade

Diodora to swallow this bitter medicine. She will take much if it comes

from you, and I really believe you have magnetised her. It will be your

mission to break the fact of the accomplished marriage to her, and

persuade her to give her consent, since the matter is irreparable. You

see, we cannot afford to quarrel with her, for she has four millions,

and is not likely to marry at all."

I hesitated, but he begged and prayed--"My dear friend," "My own Nell,"

and so forth--until I gave way, and promised to do all that he wanted.

When I had finally promised him he pressed my hands, and then turned

away and buried his face in his silk pocket-handkerchief. Was this to

hide his tears or--his laughter? _O sancta simplicitas_!

V.

HOW ROSES ARE INOCULATED.

The same day, after luncheon, Countess Flamma turned to me with the

question--

"Would you mind teaching me the process of inoculation? I am greatly

interested in roses, and should like to see how the scion is set into

the stock."

"With ever so much pleasure," I said, pleased that the pale, silent girl

showed an interest in my favourites, the roses, and turned to me for a

favour. Countess Diodora gave the required permission for the lesson,

which was to be given and taken while the others were playing

lawn-tennis on the adjacent grounds. Flamma was a bad player, anyhow, so

she might take to horticulture meanwhile.

When the whole company were on the grounds, Flamma and I stepped up to

the rose-beds, and I began to explain to her how, in the first place, a

T-shaped incision has to be made on the stock, when presently she said,

in a low whisper, "Take care of yourself."

I thought she meant that I should cut my fingers with the knife, when

she repeated her warning again, mid more explicitly, "Take care; they

mean to play a bad joke on you."

I looked up amazed. What could she mean?

"Who?" I asked.

"Don't look at me, but continue the explanation and demonstration. Never

forget I am taking a lesson, for we are closely watched."

"Thank you. So now we take a carefully chosen scion. Tell me, pray, who

wants to play that jest on me?"

"This scion is beautifully developed, let us take it--Siegfried."

"Siegfried? What does he intend to do?"

"Keep your hands busy, and do not look surprised. That clandestine

marriage, of which you are to be a witness, is a comedy. The Capuchin

monk, who is to perform the ceremony, is Seestern, the famous German

actor, who is here under an assumed name, as he does not want to be

pestered to play or amuse the others."

My hands trembled, but I kept on and said--

"Siegfried has sworn to me that he is madly in love with Countess Cenni,

and that he will marry her, come what may."

"What for?"

"What a question! For love, and--because--he wants the million florins

of her grandfather's which the countess has."

"Hand me the knife, for you will assuredly cut your finger, and give me

that scion, so that I may try to insert it. Cenni is no countess at all,

but the niece of Leestern and daughter of an actress, who at one time

did my aunt a great service, and, when dying, made Aunt Diodora promise

to take care of her little girl. Aunt gave her at confirmation the name

of Cenerentola, which we have shortened to Cenni. Her real name is

Klara. She has no other money or dower but what Aunt Diodora will give

her, which will not be much, for in money matters she is not very

liberal, and Cenni is called 'comtesse' because it suits Aunt Diodora's

whims. That million of which Siegfried spoke exists; but it is mine, and

not Cenni's. Is this scion well inserted?"

"No. I will show you the whole process again. What is Siegfried's object

in the deception?"

"You show too much agitation. Show me how to cut out the germ properly.

This is the plan. After the ceremony, on the day when Diodora is

confined to her room and I am with her, a festival banquet will be

spread in the shooting-box. It will be a noisy, dissolute company that

meets there, and Siegfried will drink most, be the loudest and least

well-behaved of the set. The bride will pretend to be afraid of the

groom, and at last she will break away from his hands, and ask the

protection of the only sober, sensible, and decent man present, namely,

yourself. The bridegroom will have lost all self-control through drink.

He will swear, and use all sorts of bad language, and the bride will sob

and entreat you to take her away, protesting that she hated the sight of

the vulgar wretch she had just married, but had been forced to do his

will, although he knew well that in reality she loved you, and you

alone. At last, growing desperate, she will attempt to leap out of the

window to escape from this place, even at the risk of her life. You will

take pity on her; her tears and charms will conquer your resistance,

and you will tell her to dispose of you for ever, and take shelter in

your own castle from the ruffian who was not worthy of the treasure he

had obtained. You will order your carriage, and take Cenni with you;

but, as soon as you have left, the fellow-plotters will mount their

horses, and, by a short cross-cut, arrive there before you, discover the

intended elopement of the bride, and carry off you and her as criminals.

You will of course offer to fight every one of them, until all, the

bride included, will burst out into Olympian laughter, and you stand

stunned and bewildered. But, pray, show me how to insert the germ

properly into the T-shape?"

My whole frame trembled with excitement.

"What is his object in all this?" I asked.

"To give you the usual 'jump,' as they call it in our set. If, for

instance, a member of some other class of society--in your case a simple

nobleman--is pushing his way into high aristocracy, he must be 'jumped,'

each in his own different way. One is made to drink until he makes

himself obnoxious even to his nearest friends; another is made to gamble

until he either wins or loses a fortune, generally the latter; but all

must 'jump,' and if they break their necks, well and good! It was

proposed to 'jump' you in courtship; you refused to aspire to Diodora.

In a duel you are not afraid of a fight, and so this course was decided

on. You had been 'jumped' already--at the election--but the triumph and

your downfall were not complete. Your vanity--don't start--was not yet

wounded to death, and you will have to 'jump' once more--once in private

and once at a second election. But this time you will not rise again.

Hopp! Hopp! That's the design. Don't look at me--that's all!"

I was fairly choked with emotion. "But why do they play that trick on

me? I did not want to enter their society; in fact, never valued it at

all; but I cared for Siegfried, and he lured me on with protestations of

friendship. What was his reason for that? What have I done to him to

merit this?"

"What have you done? You have provoked him--called him out. You said you

could not believe in the existence of a spiritual or corporal being who

would do mischief without a material motive, simply for the sake of

mischief and the pleasure he found in the despair of a fellow-being: you

did not believe that there are men who will afflict the innocent with

pain and sorrow, who will degrade, socially and morally humiliate you,

and then laugh you in the face and make game of you. Stay here, move in

our society, and you will find out your mistake! Why, what a sight it

will be to have the great debater, the candidate-elect, the sage and

learned doctor, and heir of old Diogenes caught in the act of robbing

another man of his bride! They will have a painter there to take a

sketch of the fine situation '_en plein air_.'"

At that moment one of the lawn-tennis players throw the ball just in

front of my feet, and Siegfried came running to fetch it.

"Well, have you profited at all by this lesson on inoculating?" he

asked the girl, and he added a remark which was so vulgar and

impertinent that he would not have dared to use the expression in a

variety theatre or any other low place of common entertainment.

"I have," said the girl, with low emphasis, and laid down the knife.

I was in such a state of anguish that I did not know for certain whether

the spot I was standing on belonged to this earth or was part of the

infernal kingdom, for the soil actually burned my feet. Countess Mamma

thanked me for the horticultural lesson I had given her, and I was so

much embarrassed that I repeated her own words verbally, instead of

giving her a courteous reply. Siegfried laughed.

"What an exemplary, bashful young fellow you are! Evidently you are not

used to teach young ladies such delicate lessons. Come! come! Don't

blush. Try your hand at lawn tennis."

And I went with him and played.

VI.

MR. PARASITE.

I have never given way to paroxysms of temper; not exactly because I was

naturally cool and collected, but because my profession had taught me

presence of mind and self-control. Violent wrath, violent terror, and

violent love could not attack me.

Countess Flamma's singular disclosure had made a twofold impression. My

first feeling was a painful regret that my most intimate friend, in whom

I had placed infinite trust and confidence, was a faithless deceiver;

and my second emotion was that of a burning curiosity as to why that

girl, a close relative of my cozening friend, had betrayed him to me--a

stranger. What reason had the one to hurt me, and what was the motive of

the other in warning me? For, as I refused to believe in evil spirits, I

also refused to believe in protecting angels.

"My dear friend, take care!" said Siegfried, throwing the ball at me.

The ball I did not catch, but the "dear" epithet I picked up; for it

struck me that the same phrase was often attached to my name as well as

to that of other less intimate acquaintances, and sometimes with a

special, humorous playfulness. Now I caught it. Of course I was their

"dear" friend, for did not I sit there and do nothing, and let them

waste their money on my election?

In Hungarian society, and I think in most other societies as well,

there is a certain person whom we call "Potya ur"--"Mr. Parasite." He

feeds at every board, sleeps in other men's rooms, is served by other

men's servants, uses other men's horses and carriages, and smokes other

men's cigars. When playing cards, he has invariably left his money at

home; so when he is a loser it does not matter, for he is not accustomed

to pay his losses; but, when a winner, he complacently pockets his

gains. He never pays for the flowers he sends to his hostess, never pays

anything or anybody; yet he is well lodged, well fed, well clad, and in

excellent spirits, for he needs them. His wit is his only resource, his

sole capital.

Such a Mr. Parasite, I thought, was I to these men, and I determined

that I would be so no longer. Surely I, who was formerly a physician in

Vienna, had no right to accept a nomination for Parliament in

Hungary--at other men's expense. They were right, and I had been an ass

and a coxcomb. When Siegfried told me that the party had decided not to

take a penny of me, but to secure my election out of party funds, I

should have remembered Chinese etiquette. If two Chinamen meet on the

street, Tsang will invariably invite Tsing home to dinner, and Tsing

will invariably refuse. Tsang will use all possible persuasion, and

finally fairly drag the invited one to his house, although the man

protests and struggles as much as possible. And well he knows why;

because if he should give way to the pressing invitation and go with

Tsang, the moment he entered the house his host would call him a rude,

unmannered peasant; for he must remember well that it becomes the one to

courteously invite, and the other to respectfully refuse. This is the

law of civilisation in China; and I had forgotten that law the second

time.

So, about Siegfried's motive I felt pretty sure; but what was that

girl's motive in betraying the whole plot? More! She had not only

betrayed Siegfried, her own cousin, to me--a stranger: she had betrayed

Cenni, her origin, her real name, and her kin; and, finally, what motive

had she in informing me that the million of florins was her money, and

not Cenni's? What was her motive in confiding to me such a secret in

such a mysterious and secret manner? Was it only kindness, generosity,

compassion, that prompted her, or--? No, I durst not go farther--as

yet--only I knew now beyond a doubt that, from the first, of all the

three fairies of the castle Flamma alone had aroused my interest and

sympathy. Her clear, transparent, pale face, her deep, sea-tinted eyes,

and her silent, cherry lips, so lovely when parted in speaking, had

attracted me from the first.

We were called indoors to partake of some iced coffee, and strawberries

with cream; but this time I had not forgotten Tsang and Tsing. I

refused, saying that I had a letter from the Vice-Governor, and was

expected by him; so I could not return until next day in the afternoon.

My excuse was accepted, and I took my leave. For a second the thought

flashed through my mind that I ought not to return at all, and that

this should be my last visit to the place; but, somehow, to that

rose-scion which I had taught Flamma how to inoculate I had

involuntarily and unconsciously tied that particular part of my being

which is known as the "soul."

Next morning I drove over to the county seat, and paid a visit to the

Vice-Governor.

Of course, he was as cordial as ever, and welcomed me as a dear friend.

"Well, what have you brought me?" he asked finally.

"This time a sensible resolution," I said. "I have come to give in my

resignation as a candidate for Parliament."

The Vice-Governor embraced, nay, fairly hugged me in his arms. "My dear

boy, that's a sensible thing, indeed: not from the view of the

Government party only--I don't believe that your party could have

carried the day with you--but in consideration of your own welfare. Just

sit down, and let me inform the President of the Board of Elections of

your resolution. I shall do that at once. Not for a world would I let

you reconsider this excellent idea. Perhaps you might be over-persuaded,

and 'jumped' again by your good friends."

Again I heard the expression "jumped," and I sat down to meditate over

it. "Have you told Siegfried yet?" asked the Vice-Governor.

"Not yet," I said; "but I think he won't greatly object."

"Who knows? But you will pledge your word that you will stick to your

resignation against all persuasion?"

"Certainly. I'll give you any oath you want, and--well, here is my hand

on the promise. My resignation is final."

"Then allow me to congratulate you, and to convince you, by action, what

a sensible conclusion you have come to. I should have withheld your

property from you until after election, for I feared that generous

nature of yours, and was afraid that, if you had free access to your

uncle's iron chest, your companions would soon enough have their fists

deep in it. But, now that you convince me of your good sense, here are

the papers which make you lord of the real and personal property of your

late uncle, and here is the package with the bank-bills. Pray open and

count them over. The county sheriff will go over with you to take off

the seals from everything, and put you in legal possession."

I thanked him, and put the money, uncounted, in my coat pocket. Then I

returned to our former theme, and asked the Vice-Governor if he really

thought that my nomination had put my party to very great expense.

"Think so?" he exclaimed, "of course, I think so! Why, my dear friend,

you are a new man, and considered almost as a foreigner and a scholar,

not a patriotic politician! But, if you are really interested in the

question, you can find out the exact figure which your nomination has

cost your party. Just go straight to the County Savings Bank here, and

ask the amount which Siegfried has drawn on bills signed with his own

name and that of his political friends as security."

I was stunned. "I never thought of such a thing," I said. "Siegfried

told me that he had money at home which he did not want for himself at

present, and could easily spare."

The official laughed. "Siegfried, and spare money! Why, what an innocent

you are! If he had money at all, he would leave it on the card-table, he

is such a gambler. The fact is, he is on such a sandbank, just at

present, that it will be fortunate for him if his barque ever gets

afloat again."

"How is that possible? I thought him very well off."

"He is more than that; he is very rich. His domains are large and

beautiful, and his income is princely; only he is of the opinion that it

is mean to keep money, and he spends in six months the income of a year,

and in this way he runs into debt. He has practised that for a

considerable time, and it cannot go on that way much longer. His only

resource is his maiden aunt, Countess Diodora. It is said--at least,

Siegfried says--that she hates men, and will take the veil to become an

abbess. In that case her estates will revert to him as next heir."

"H--m; and do you think Siegfried would feel insulted if I should go to

the Savings Bank and pay those bills of his? Or do you believe that his

friends would be offended if I took up all the bills, and paid all the

expenses I have caused them?"

"No; although they would pretend to be so for a while, in reality I

think they would be only too glad. But I will tell you something: you

are just such a generous, large-hearted, noble, free-handed fool as your

father was, and, if you go on the way you have begun, old Diogenes's

hoard will go after your father's fortune. Do you know what the two Ms

in the palm of your hands signify?"

"_Memento mori_," I said, smilingly.

"No. Mind money. It means 'Always mind your own money.' It is the best

advice I can give you, and the one you stand most in need of."

I thanked him, and took my leave: no more Mr. Parasite, but on the way

to earn the title he had given me--that of a fool.

VII.

A BRILLIANT GAME.

If I had had a particle of good judgment or common sense, I should have

taken the bills I had paid for at the bank to the solicitor who acted

both for Siegfried and myself, should have authorised that gentleman to

pay the twenty thousand florins Siegfried had lent me when I came into

possession of my house, and I myself should have written two pleasant

letters--one to Countess Diodora, thanking her for her great and

disinterested kindness and hospitality, and the other to Siegfried,

notifying him formally of what I had done, and, at the same time,

telling him that my resolution was firm, and that no persuasion on his

part would shake it. Then I should have thanked him for his friendship,

and finally have taken myself off with all possible speed to Heligoland,

Ostend, or some other remote watering-place. After an election campaign,

or, as in my case, nearly two campaigns, such an invigorating of the

system is very commendable.

All this I should have done as a man of good judgment, but, alas! I was

not such a man--at any rate, no longer. My judgment had left me, and it

would need a whole pathologico-psychological dissertation to explain how

the process of inserting a rose-scion into a stock can, in a period of

hardly an hour, convert a cool, sensible, and collected man into a

stark raving madman.

For a lunatic I was--no doubt about that. Now it was I who wanted to

play the game to the end, and to show to those five companions of mine

which of us could "jump" best. An angel had come to warn me, and had

given me a weapon against my adversaries; now I was bound to show her

that I could make proper use of the weapon. There was already a sweet

secret bond between us--her warning, and I was burning to find out the

cause, the fountain-head, of that significant partiality shown to me.

Why was the angel an angel? The question was all-important to me.

On arriving at home with the sheriff I found a letter from Siegfried,

and on the envelope the inscription, "_Ibi, ubi, cito, citissime_. N.B.

Dr. Cornelius Dumany, Esquire."

The contents of the letter were as follows:--

"DEAR FRIEND,--Aunt Diodora has her nervous attack, and is

dangerously ill. Pray make haste! _Periculum, in mora_. Bring your

electro-magnetic apparatus with you, and come at once.--SIEGFRIED."

The gamekeeper had brought the letter, and said that he had strict

orders to wait for me, if it was until midnight. So I despatched my

business with the sheriff, gave orders for refreshments for him, and,

going into my museum, I took out a watch of the Apafy period, with which

I presented him, and made him perfectly happy. Then I picked out an

antique opal bracelet, which Cenni had found exceptionally beautiful,

and put it into my pocket as a present for the bride. I would take the

ceremony _bonâ fide_, and play my part as naturally as possible.

We drove through Siegfried's game-park, and at the cascades I was

expected by Baron Muckicza, the other witness. "You are expected like

the Messiah by the Jews," he cried, and leaped up to me without stopping

the vehicle. "Cenni and Siegfried are in the chapel already."

On arriving in front of the chapel, an old Gothic edifice, situated in a

large clearing in the park, we alighted, and I ordered my coachman not

to unhitch the horses, but to drive about, and wait for me at the gate

in about an hour or more.

We opened the little gate that led to a large stone crucifix in front of

the chapel, and found the vestry-clerk and a boy ministrant waiting for

us in the entry. Now they tolled the bell hurriedly and briefly, and

gave way to us.

Siegfried and Cenni met us in the chapel. He pressed my hand in evident

excitement, assuring me of eternal friendship and gratitude for standing

by his side at this turning-point of his life, whereupon I returned his

protestations with equal feeling. The bride, in a dove-coloured

travelling-dress, with a wreath of orange flowers in her blonde locks,

and a costly lace shawl as a bridal veil, was an exquisite image of love

and modesty. On seeing me she bashfully hid her face in her hands,

exclaiming, "Oh! what will you think of me?" and to Siegfried,

imploringly, "Pray let me go back to the house! My God, what a step you

have persuaded me to! Pray let me go back; oh, pray do!" But Siegfried

tenderly held her hands, and persuaded her to go to the good Father

Paphuntius, who was awaiting her in the shriving-pew to receive the

confession of her sins; for, as a good Catholic, she could not marry

unshriven. So she simpered and blushed a good deal, and went away to

where the Father, with clean-shaven face--evidently a Ligorian, not a

Capuchin--received her with a benediction.

It was a splendid farce, and admirably acted by almost all the parties.

There were two bridesmaids with somewhat rural complexions, and hands

which seemed to swell out of their number seven white gloves, as did

their robust waists from the tightly-laced silk bodices. Of course, we

called them "Milady," and spoke French to them, although it was easy to

guess that they were dairy and garden wenches, and the only language

they understood or spoke was the Slavonic. They blushed and giggled a

good deal, and did not feel very much at ease on our arms.

The ceremony took place in the most solemn and decorous way. Father

Paphuntius delivered a very impressive sermon on domestic virtues and

the fear of God leading to earthly happiness and eternal bliss. Bride

and groom kneeled down before the altar and exchanged their vows,

whereupon the priest bound their hands together and gave them his

benediction.

My hand itched, and I could hardly keep from loudly applauding the

acting priest or the preaching actor; but I did not forget that at least

the place of comedy was really sacred, although profaned by a parcel of

blasphemous roysterers, and so I held my peace and looked on.

After the ceremony, of course, everybody congratulated the new couple,

and I added the opal bracelet to my compliments, and received in return

a sweet smile from the fair bride. "You have robbed your collection of

its most precious treasure," she said, and "It will be made more

precious by your ladyship's acceptance" was my answer.

We wrote our names in an old register which was in the vestry. I

presented the excellent Father Paphuntius with six gold eagles, and the

vestry clerk was made happy with as many brand-new and shining silver

florins, while the boy received six glittering quarters--all in the

fashion of a real wedding. After that, the new Benedict gave his arm to

his bride. Baron Muckicza and I bowed to the red-faced damsels, with the

German phrase, "_Darf ich Ihnen meinen Arm bieten, mein Fräulein_," to

which they answered in classic Slavonian, "_Gyekujem peknye mladi-pan_,"

which means, "Thank you very much, young master." Then we went, _per

pedes apostolorum_, to the shooting-box, Father Paphuntius, of course,

accompanying us, to feast at the wedding banquet.

The table fairly groaned under the sumptuous meal. The newly-wedded

couple took the seat of honour. I was placed to the right of the bride,

and Musinka, the dairy-wench, sat next to me, as became her position as

bridesmaid. Next to the groom sat the priest, then Anyicska, the

garden-wench and second bridesmaid, and at her side, between the two

damsels (the table was round), sat Baron Muckicza.

We were in excellent humour and rather hilarious, and the affair was a

very lively one. At all such revels I have the peculiarity of never

drinking anything but champagne. All other wine I despise and scorn to

drink. Siegfried knew this well, and had given orders that, after the

trout, champagne should be served. The cork was drawn with a loud noise,

the wine foamed and sparkled in the glasses, but, when the servant came

to help me, I took the bottle from his hands to look at the label; for

there is a difference in the fluid, and Röderer and Röderer is not

always alike. There are certain symbolical marks on the bottles, well

known to connoisseurs. On some is a bee, on others an ostrich or an

elephant. On this particular bottle was a fly, and I threw the bottle to

the wall with such force that it broke into shivers, and the foaming

contents went splashing into the faces of the company. The reverend

Father had just risen, glass in hand, to drink a toast to the happy

couple, and Siegfried said, reproachfully--

"My dear fellow, you begin it too early; the bottle-breaking business

comes after the drinking, not before it."

"All right," said I, grumbling, "but if you have a physician as your

marriage witness, don't treat your wedding company with wine marked with

a fly. I know the effect of that poison."

He smiled mischievously, and, turning, he said in Hungarian, which the

Father did not understand, "Don't spoil the game. You'll have another

mark; this is for the Capuchin. I want to 'jump' him."

"Indeed!" I thought. "Well, I'll 'jump' you both." The mock priest was

standing with his glass in hand to begin his toast, when I turned to him

and asked--

"Is it not you, my dear Seestern, that plays the Capuchin in Schiller's

_Wallenteins's Camp_?"

The man stared at me, and fell back into his chair, with the classical

quotation "_Ha, ich bin erkannt_!" The bride shrieked, and, bounding

from my side, ran out of the room. The rustic bridesmaids stared at each

other, and asked, "_Csoeto_?" ("What does that mean?") and Siegfried's

fist came down hard on the table. "_Sacré de Dieu_! This is treachery!"

and taking hold of my arm, he asked, "Who was it? Who has betrayed this

little joke?"

I looked him innocently in the face. "Why, my dear Siegfried, it would

be unnatural if an old Vienna theatre-goer like me did not know

Seestern, the famous comic actor. I am no country cousin to be cozened

in that way."

"Well, evidently we have made the reckoning without our host," said he,

grumblingly. "But it is a pity. Such a capital joke it would have been,

and you would have laughed most. Still, it can't be helped, so we'll

make the best of the spoiled game. I see the prima donna has thrown off

her _rôle_, so you had better go after her, Seestern, and see her safe

to the château. Your monk's cowl is a protection in itself. Don't look

disconcerted; you can come back. Our revel does not end yet; it has

hardly begun. You, Muckicza, my dear boy, go out and get in the boys.

Tell them the hunt is over; the game has broken fence."

By this time one of the Slav girls had stuffed her pockets with French

candies and confectionery from the table, and the other drank off the

champagne from all the glasses near. Now Siegfried looked at them, and

imperatively motioned to the door. They hurried out, and "my dear

friend" Siegfried and I were face to face, alone. His face wore a gloomy

expression, and he said, in a courtly manner--

"Sir, I am at your service. Do you feel offended by this joke?"

I laughed outright. "I offended? Why should I? Nothing has happened to

me."

"But it would have happened. We intended to give you a little 'jump.'"

"And why?"

"Oh, for nothing! Only you look so funny with that gorilla beard you

wear on your face."

"Indeed? And pray how should I 'jump' as your marriage witness?"

"Has not the person who warned you betrayed the whole scheme?"

"Never you mind. I am not offended; quite the contrary. I like such

practical jokes, and have taken my revenge beforehand. I have played you

an equal trick: I have given my resignation as a candidate this

morning."

"You cannot mean it! Tell me, are you in earnest?"

"Dear me, no! I am joking; I told you so! But the thing is irrevocably

done, all the same."

"But how could you do it without consulting the party!--without telling

me! Thunder and lightning! this is no child's play, but a high game; and

there are thousands staked on it! How dare you play fast and loose with

us, after all the expenses you have caused us?"

"Oh, if I have a hand in such a game, I generally play it in the proper

way!" I said, taking out the wallet with Siegfried's bills, and putting

them all in a row on the table. "You see, this is the way I ventured to

do as I did."

He tried to play the offended man. "Sir, it seems you do not know--"

"Oh, everything, my dear count!" I said, laughingly; "only don't let us

make much ado about nothing. We have both had our joke, and now allow me

to beg you for my piece of pasteboard, on which you had the kindness to

lend me twenty thousand florins. Here, pray, let me hand you your money.

I have it ready for you."

He gave me my card, but refused the money. "It is paid already," he

said. "The amount is included in these bills."

At that moment Countess Diodora's footman came in, and Siegfried asked

if he had come to look for Countess Cenni. "No," said the man, "Countess

Cenni is in the château"--("What a good runner she is!" I thought)--"but

her ladyship, the Countess Vernöczy--Diodora--is very ill, and begs his

honour, the Dr. Dumany, to be kind enough to come and see her. The

ranger has saddled his horse, and is waiting for the prescription to

take it to town at once."

That was an honour indeed, and I lost no time in following the man, and

left Siegfried utterly amazed. "Why, Nell," he said, "you can work

miracles! You are a Cagliostro, and exercise some powerful, mysterious

influence! You must be congratulated on this victory. Fancy Aunt Diodora

consulting a physician! having a man enter her maiden sanctuary! It

would not be believed if I told it!"

At the portal of the château I hesitated for a moment. I had grown

suspicious, and suddenly it occurred to me that this might be some other

little practical joke, and part of the programme; but I dismissed the

thought as base. The countess was a woman--a sick woman; deception in

that line was impossible, at least in my profession. I could not be

"jumped."

In the château everybody went on tiptoe, as usual when Diodora had her

nervous attacks, but I did not heed that. My step was as firm as ever;

the reverberation of the physician's step is soothing to the patient,

and fills him with hope and assurance.

The servant conducted me to the room in which Countess Flamma sat; the

adjacent room was that of the sufferer. Flamma sat reading before the

lamp when I entered. She laid down the book, got up, and extended her

hand. "Diodora expects you impatiently. She is more excited than ever,

and has just driven out Cenni because she smelt of wine."

"So Cenni was here already, possibly for the sake of an _alibi_."

"Don't speak of that! She told me all that has occurred. Have you drunk

wine also, or is your breath pure? Bend down a little, so. You are all

right, and I'll take you to Diodora; only wait here a little."

She went in, but returned instantly, and beckoned me to follow her into

a boudoir lighted by a lamp with a shade of green glass. Rich tapestry

hangings divided the apartment. Flamma drew the hangings partly aside,

motioned me to go near, and left the room, softly closing the entrance.

So I was here on that sacred spot, the first and only male being alive

who had ever been granted the privilege of seeing the sublime Diodora on

her couch. Only her head and arms were visible--such arms as might have

been lost by the Venus of Milo and found by this, her divine sister. The

thick tresses of raven hair were uncoiled and scattered in rich skeins

on the pillows and the coverlet. One of the silken coils fell down

heavily to the carpet, and another was thrown high over the sculptured

ornaments of the mahogany bedstead. It was an _embarras de richesses_

rarely met with; and in the rich and precious braids the ivory fingers

were clutched, dishevelling them, tearing at them, in the excess of

pain. The beautiful face was pale and lustrous, the eyes bright and

glittering, surrounded by broad, dark blue circles; the lips were

parted, and the breath came short. Her hands were hot and dry, and the

pulse beat intermittently. When I laid my hand on her head and my thumb

pressed against the crown, she groaned--"Yes, there it is. Hell itself,

with all its tortures!"

My hands went down on her neck, between the _musculus cucullaris_ and

the _sternocleido mastoideus_. "Ah, that is the way the pain goes down,"

she sighed; and when I asked, "Will your ladyship give me leave to make

use of my skill?" she answered, "Don't call me 'ladyship'! I am no

countess now; I am nothing but a suffering animal, and you may call me

what you please. Give me the title of dog, so you can help me."

"Then pray sit up first, and let me gather and secure your hair; it

hinders my movements."

She obeyed; and, while I gathered the loose tresses and coiled them

around the head, the coverlet slipped down unnoticed, and the lace

nightgown, torn open by the restless fingers, revealed the marble bust

and shoulders; but for the physician, in the execution of his

professional duty, female charms do not exist. The warm, soft, creamy

skin is nothing to him but epidermis, _stratum mucosum Malpighii_; the

white, sculptured neck only the _regio nuchæ_, and then comes the _regio

scapularis_, the _deltoidea_, and then the _sacrospinalis_.

What a fuss they make about that ascetic who resisted the temptations

of the flesh when tried by the evil spirit in the shape of Lilith! What

would that famous saint have done, how would he have behaved, if he had

been called to rub this soft, velvety, odorous flesh, the fascinating,

peerless body, with his hands? Who knows if then the Catholic Church had

not boasted of one saint less? Indeed, indeed, we modern physicians have

more of the saint in our disposition--in general, of course.

The effect of the treatment appeared at once in soft, voluptuous sighs

of relief, deep and long-drawn; in the magnetic showers of the body I

recognised a sure token which that mysterious disorder in the veins,

lymphs, and nerves reveals in the ganglia. A firm pressure of the biceps

with full fist, a pressure of the thumb against the _rhomboideus_, made

her exclaim, "Oh, that has done me good!" Then she began to shiver, the

body ceased to be hot and dry, and perspiration set in. She laughed

involuntarily, her teeth chattering with cold, and then she sighed

again, and said, gratefully, "I feel as if you had saved me from

drowning in an ocean of hot oil." I was at the _regio palmarum_, rubbing

her hands and fingers, cracking each of them. "Thank you," said she;

"that will do. I feel much better."

But I told her that my work was only half done as yet and had to be

finished, or else the attack would return. The object was to gain

regular circulation of the blood throughout the whole body. This is no

witchcraft, but plain mechanical aid to the action of the live organism.

But now that her sense had returned, her bashfulness returned also.

"Could not the remaining part of the treatment be executed by a woman?"

she asked.

"Yes, if she has studied anatomy, visited the dissecting-room regularly,

and knows every particle in the structure of the human body; otherwise,

a quack may do just as much mischief with the pressure of her unskilled

hands on the outside of your body as with a bottle of quack medicine to

your inner system. It is hard to make you open your eyes to the fact

that the organic structure of the human body is a more wonderful, much

more admirable work of creation than the starry heaven. When, at a word,

the muscles of your face move to a smile of pleasure, or your eyes are

filled with tears of joy, sorrow, or compassion such a complicated

machinery is set in motion that no mechanical iron structure on earth

can be found half as involved or half as complete; and a person not

thoroughly acquainted with the qualities and parts of this wonderful

apparatus will prove a tormenting executioner, not a healing physician,

to the sufferer. Be patient, milady, the physician at the bed of his

patient is of the neuter gender--just as the angels are."

"Then--be an angel!"

I did my duty. The _musculus risorius_ was moving already. A happy smile

played on her face, the pale face regained its colour, and then the

involuntary smile gave way to involuntary tears. After this she fell

asleep; so deep, so peaceful was her sleep that the _aponeurosis

plantaris_ did not disturb her, although there are few or none who are

able to undergo the process of having the soles of their feet rubbed.

She slept, and there she lay in all her sublime beauty, like some

wonderful marble statue, the image of a goddess. I took the coverlet, on

which the Vernöczy crest--a nymph rising out of a shell, holding apart

her long, golden hair--was embroidered, and covered up the fair sleeper,

folding the blanket well on the feet to prevent evil dreams. Then I let

down the curtains to shut out the lamplight, and left the room.

On the thick, soft carpet, my step was noiseless, and Countess Flamma

was not aware of my presence. I entered the room in which she sat before

a little table, her palms clutched together, her pale, beautiful face

bent over a book. It seemed to be a very interesting book, for she was

entirely lost in the contents. I waited until she finished the page, but

she did not turn the leaf, but re-read the same page again and again.

"Countess!" I said, deferentially. She looked up and hastily closed the

book. The silver filigree cross on the purple velvet cover betrayed the

prayer-book. What prayer was that of which she did not tire, but read it

over and over repeatedly?

She gazed at me in evident wonder, and her eyes sparkled like two

shining orbs. "You have returned?" she exclaimed, as if in doubt of my

bodily reality.

"Countess Diodora is asleep," I said, "and will not wake until the

morning. Pray, take care not to disturb her."

"And--you--you--did not remain--there?" pointing to the room I left.

"I have done all I could, and my staying would be of no use to her. To

watch her sleep would do no good to her and be tiresome to me."

From the shooting-box shouts of revelry reverberated up to us. "You are

going back to them?" she asked.

"No. I have finished my business with Siegfried, and told him that I had

revoked my nomination."

"You have really done it?"

"Certainly. I have also paid the election expenses up to date, and

thanked Siegfried for his good intentions. Henceforth we shall be

friendly neighbours, but not friends. Now give me leave to say

good-night to you. To-morrow morning I'll drive over to pay a

professional visit to Countess Diodora."

"Don't go home now," she said, holding my hand; "the night is dark, and

something might happen to you. I have prepared a room for you here in

the château, with auntie's permission, and you will stay. Henceforth,

whenever you come to Vernöcze, you will come straight here, not to the

shooting-box."

The blood rushed up to my face, and then back to my heart with a

throbbing sensation. A tingling noise like the sound of bells was in my

ears, and for a moment the whole universe seemed to have but one real

fixed star--the fair, pale face before me. "Will you stay?" she asked,

with a sweet smile and a pressure of her hand; and I ask, Is there on

earth a Cicero or a Demosthenes so eloquent as the pressure of a

woman's hand when it speaks?

I thought I knew all. I had sounded the mystery of her warning to me,

and in that moment of overwhelming bliss I do not know what I did. Had I

kissed her hand? Had I said anything? given a promise or received one? I

do not know; but that my head was dizzy, and my heart filled with a

world of joy, that I remember.

VIII.

A BITING KISS.

The valet conducted me to the room assigned to me, and carried my orders

to my coachman to unhitch the horses, and send up my necessaries. "Will

it please your honour to take some tea?" asked the valet.

"Thanks," said I, "I won't take anything. But you will greatly oblige me

if you will send me a bowl with warm water; I want to shave."

"Certainly, sir. The chambermaid will fetch it at once."

I had resolved to shave. Good-bye to Chauvinism and national

peculiarity! I wanted a smooth, clean face, as I had had before I had

given way to vanity and political ambition. From this day on I ceased to

be a clay figure in the hands of juggling quacks. I was Dr. Dumany

again, and would remain so for life.

As I sat before the mirror, looking at my own face, I could not repress

a smile. That beard of a few weeks' growth lent me an appearance that

was nearly akin to that of a gorilla. I took a pair of scissors and

clipped off the hair; then I prepared the soap and razor for shaving the

bristles. A woman, whom I took to be the chambermaid, set a bowl of

water before me, and, as I am not in the habit of looking closely at

chambermaids, I said, "Thank you," prepared the lather, and commenced

shaving.

The woman was yet standing beside me, and, as I thought she was waiting

for orders, I said, without turning--

"Much obliged, my dear; you need not wait. I shall not want anything

this evening."

"May I not send you a cup of tea?"

I started, and the razor in my hand gave a great jerk, happily not into

my face: the woman I had taken for a chambermaid was Cenni.

"Oh," I said, "it is you!"

She laughed, and said, with a mock obeisance, "Yes, sir." But, looking

at me in the mirror, she laughed again, and said--"Only go on. I am

waiting for the Byron face to appear again, when these stalks are swept

off. We can talk a little meanwhile."

"Indeed? But, you see, there is one more forbidden subject between us.

There are four now: the step-ladder, the Sultan of Morocco, the

sea-dove, and now Father Paphuntius."

"It's astonishing how sharp you are; almost as keen as your razor. Only

take care, you may cut your own skin!"

"Not likely. My hand is skilled in using knives. Am I mistaken in

supposing that you have come to ask for secrecy on my part?"

"Not altogether. That was a part of my motive in coming."

"You magnanimously promised me a kiss for keeping the other secrets.

What will be my fee for this?"

"A bite, and yet a kiss. It will hurt you, and yet it is meant as a

caress--like those biting kisses which some over-fond mothers bestow on

their little ones, and make them cry."

"Thank you, I am ready to accept it, and shall do my best not to cry."

"Don't be too sure of that. Take care of the blade in your hand! I half

think I ought to postpone my revelations, because as long as this

shaving process serves you as a pretext for making grimaces, I cannot

clearly detect the real impression my words are making on you. Would you

mind laying down that razor for a while, and leave off making faces and

holding the tip of your own nose?"

"Impossible. I have heard of Janus having two different faces--one for

peace, smooth and smiling sweetly; the other for war, frowning and

threatening, and clothed with a grizzly beard. But I myself always show

an honest impartiality to friend or foe."

"Oh, I daresay that you condemn and despise me, for, foolish and

conceited as you are, you scarcely know how to distinguish between

friend and foe. You think the misfortune that little pleasantry would

have brought upon you highly important, whereas, if carried out as

intended, it would have saved you from real harm and real degradation."

"What? If I had played that game to the end and had caused you, the

pretended bride of another man, to elope with me, it would have been to

my advantage? Is that the quintessence of cynicism, or sublime

_naïveté_?"

"No. It is plain truth, and you will find it out with a vengeance! Only

then it will be too late for repentance. You have been told that I lent

my aid to play a trick which would have made you the laughing-stock of

all your acquaintances. I tell you if you had only gone on,

unforewarned, you would have come out a hero and the master of them all.

Only then you would have known me as I truly am, and not as I choose to

appear. I have been slandered to you, and you think me a she-devil at

least, because I like a joke, and look everybody in the face, and not up

to heaven like a saint, or down to earth like a sinner. I also look like

a bold word, and am no more a hypocrite in words than I am in deeds;

and, first of all, I never make use of calumny to gain my own ends. I

know who has told you that I was a Satanella. Flamma, the--'angel.' Of

course, everybody who is acquainted with us will tell you that she _is_

an _angel_, and that I am a devil at least, because I have cat's-eyes, a

sharp tongue, and a quick temper, whereas she has the face of a Madonna,

the disposition of a nun, and--she knows how to keep her own counsel.

Her mouth is only opened when necessary to her own purposes; in such a

case she does not recoil from the basest slander. Do you think I did not

watch you two at that rose-bed? That I did not notice the glitter in

your eye, the excited shaking of your hands? And do you know why she did

it? Because the day before I had boldly told you to win Diodora. That

she could not forgive me, and do you know why? You remember your answer.

It was when you told us the tragic story of your friend and the moral,

that you were wary of the caprices of aristocratic heiresses. Now--she

thought--if this is so? Here is a girl without a penny of her own, with

a mock title which does not belong to her; if he disbelieves in

heiresses, he may believe in her, and that is a state of things not to

be endured. Let us spoil that little private game of Miss Nobody,

because we have a reason for wanting the light-headed, easily-deceived

fellow for ourselves. But do you know that reason? Can you guess it?"

The knife was at my throat literally; but she laughed a short, harsh

laugh, and continued--

"Ha! ha! You come from them. You have been called to the divinity to

admire her in her sublime loveliness, and you have treated her as clay,

and played the _rôle_ of the Messiah, Who drove out the demons by the

touch of His hands. How she must despise you--nay, hate you--for that

proof of your preference for Psyche over Anadyomene! How that

sweet-winged creature, Psyche, must have pressed your hand, and looked

up to you with a sweet, promissory smile as you kissed her hand and

professed yourself her most obedient slave for ever after! Although you

ought to remember your friend's story well enough! When you told it, you

said, 'I am nothing but a runaway doctor, an expelled Member of

Parliament, and a Slav king'; now you shave your face and say, 'I am a

marvellously powerful man, and endowed with magical charms. I shall be a

king of hearts!'"

My face was smooth and clean. I poured some _eau de Cologne_ in the bowl

of water, dipped a sponge into it, and washed my face, drying it with a

soft towel. "Oh, you are quite handsome enough!" she said, mockingly;

"you can show your Byron face; 'I come, I see, I conquer,' is written on

your forehead. But now I am not jesting; and listen to me, or repent it

until your dying hour! If you succeed in winning the divinity you may be

a slave, but a cherished slave. You will not know the blessing of love,

but you will also be free of the pangs of jealousy and of shame. But

beware of the angel! I tell you, if that rose-scion which you both

inserted the other day germinates and comes to bloom, deadly despair

will be your lot, and the angel's rose will kill you with foul poison!

Beware, I say! Cut that scion while you have the opportunity, and then

go to the end of the world to be safe from the angel's revenge!

Remember, I have warned you!"

She had gone to the door, but at the threshold she turned and said--"I

have given you the biting kiss I promised. Much good it may do you!"

With that she went out, but her biting kiss had not hurt me. My heart

was full of hope and joy. This girl's impotent jealousy had convinced me

of the reality of my happiness. I was beloved, and I loved again; and

could the venomous tongue of a jealous woman incense me against an angel

like Flamma? True love is like pure gold, and the acid of calumny does

not destroy it, but gives new proof of its value. I loved Flamma, and

Flamma loved me. This was enough of bliss, enough to keep me all night

in a waking dream, in a transport of exquisite joy.

IX.

WHO IS THE VISITOR?

I waited impatiently for the daybreak. At the first dawn I was up and

dressed, and taking long strides on the garden path. How long would it

be until the ladies were up, and willing to receive me? Even the

servants were asleep yet. I strolled on aimlessly until I found myself

unexpectedly at the dairy, which was quite a grand establishment, where

twenty milch cows of the Aargau breed were milked daily, and a delicious

cheese manufactured. Siegfried had told me some time before that, as

soon as the railway was extended to the neighbouring town--a prospect

which was expected to be realised shortly--he would have a branch laid

on, at his own expense, to his dairy. Anyicska and Masinka, the two

bridesmaids of last evening, met me at the gate, and were very officious

in showing me in, and while Anyicska brought me a cup of excellent sweet

milk, Masinka brought some spongy rye bread, fresh from the oven, upon a

salver. Of course, this was offered as a bribe for my secrecy on the

topic of last night, and I promised them not to tell Countess Diodora

how they had been employed at the mock wedding. Poor things, why should

I betray them for obeying orders? So I graciously accepted my

hush-money, which was less subtle and more substantial than that offered

by the fair bride herself; and they told me that the revelry had lasted

almost until cock-crow. They all had capital fun. The Father had sung

highly amusing songs. The girls had been called back after my departure,

and then, with the other companions who were called in, the merry-making

had reached a very high pitch. Of course, Cenni had not returned to

them.

As I gave them my promise of silence they thanked me, and in return they

told me that, with my smooth face, I was a much handsomer-looking fellow

than last night, with that beard on my cheeks and chin; and I was

conceited enough to pocket the compliment and believe in its truth.

Breakfast was served to me in my room. The ladies were up, but Countess

Diodora was too weak to preside as usual at the breakfast-table. I

requested the honour of paying her a professional visit, and was told

that she would be glad to see the "doctor."

The room in which she received me was a magnificent _salon_, with a

balcony in front. When I entered, the doors and windows were wide open;

the rays of the sun darted through the filmy lace curtains; it was a

"_tableau en plein air_" that met my eye. Countess Diodora, in a

mauve-coloured silk dressing-gown, rested on a settee. Before her was a

little Venetian mosaic table, and on it a tea-tray. Diodora seemed to be

in excellent spirits, and looked beautiful; the suffering of last night

had not told on her complexion the least bit. She wore a black lace

scarf to conceal her hair, which was still in the state in which I had

coiled and pinned it, except that a great ornamental tortoise-shell

comb, of yellow hue, had been thrust into it. Opposite to the countess,

on two embroidered stools, sat the two girls, engaged in finishing the

Japanese sunbird; and in the balcony door stood Siegfried, smoking a

cigarette, and blowing the smoke--in consideration of his aunt--out of

the door. I thought it would have been more considerate still if he had

not smoked at all. As I entered, the thought seemed to occur to him that

the business of smoking would be best despatched on the balcony, so he

escaped the difficulty of looking me in the face. Cenni also found a

pretext for retiring; she took the tea-tray from the little table and

left the room with it. Countess Diodora, Flamma, and myself remained in

the room. I asked the countess how she felt, and whether she had enjoyed

a peaceful sleep, and she answered, with rapture--

"I slept deliciously, as I never have before since my childhood; and I

had such delightful dreams! I fancied I was a child again, and rambled

in the garden chasing butterflies. You have worked miracles, and

henceforth I shall believe in you as in an oracle. I revoke all I have

said against your profession and science, and confide myself entirely

into your hands. The first touch of your hand had a magic effect on me,

and afterward I felt as if you had taken my vile body of clay from me,

joint by joint, with the witchcraft of your fingers, and given me a new,

better, and more perfect form. I felt as if you had lent me wings, and

that now I could rise with you up above the clouds, captivated by your

mesmeric influence upon me. Moon and stars seemed to remain far below

me, and you were guiding me up to a strange world, full of unknown and

eternal bliss. Oh, why cannot this transport of exquisite pleasure last

for ever? Indeed, indeed, I do not know how to express the gratitude I

owe you!"

Diodora said this to me in the presence of Flamma, and in the hearing of

Siegfried, who, on the balcony, could hear every word through the open

door; and, as she said it, her great Juno-like eyes rested on mine with

an expression of enthusiastic admiration. Yes! such might have been the

look which the goddess bestowed on poor, silly Ixion as she lured him on

and then--left a cloud in his arms.

But do you know why that look failed to infect me as it had Ixion?

Because I had been inoculated against the infection by another look last

night--a look from the violet eyes of Flamma.

I rose from my seat, and, throwing myself into an attitude befitting a

ceremonious announcement, I said--

"Countess, to be of service to you is a happiness to me. Pray dispose of

me. If I can convert your pains into pleasures, I shall consider the

happy result as the highest reward. Your ladyship's gracious words at

this moment inspire me with boldness; so much so that I feel encouraged

to lay the hidden secret of my heart, the cherished wish of my life, in

your hands. If you deign to accept my confession and grant my desire,

you will bind me to your service for life, in attaching me to your

family."

I shall never in life forget that proud, repellent lifting of her head

as I spoke. Diana might have looked so at Actæon, although, poor fellow,

he had never come so near to the virgin charms of that Olympian lady as

I to those of the queenly virgin before me on the preceding night. Her

forehead seemed to gain in height, her eyes retreated behind the lashes,

her lips were pressed together, and her nostrils dilated. In looking at

me her chin doubled, and she seemed the personification of haughty

disdain.

"My dear doctor," she said, with proud emphasis on the "doctor," "it

seems you have misinterpreted my words. I have never thought of

encouraging you in desires such as you this moment expressed."

I bent my head deeper still. "Dear countess, allow me to say that the

misconstruction is on your side. I did not intend the bold request which

you seem to impute to me; I simply beg leave to ask for the hand of your

niece."

Her whole disposition seemed to change on hearing this, and she broke

into a long, ringing, scornful laugh--the laugh of offended vanity, of

angered pride; such a laugh as women use to mask their disappointment

and jealousy, and the rising of their temper.

"Ha! ha! ha! Ah! ha! ha! The little Cenni! Ha! ha! So it is true, and I

have guessed right? Ha! ha! ha! And the little fool has run out; she

guessed the object of your visit. Ha! ha! ha! It's wonderful! My niece,

the little Cenni--Countess Cenni! Oh, what a perfect match! Ha! ha! ha!"

I did not disturb the explosion of her mirth. As a physician I knew that

it impaired the health of a nervous woman if she was interrupted in her

vagaries. At the sound of her laughter Siegfried re-entered and asked,

"What is it now?"

Diodora explained, laughing hysterically, that their dear, common

friend, Dr. Dumany, had just now asked for the hand of little Cenni.

"Very well," said Siegfried, "serves him right. Let him have her, by all

means!"

"I beg both your pardons," I said, "but it seems to me as if the

misunderstanding between us is becoming chronic. I very much admire, but

have no intention of marrying--Miss Klara."

"Ah!" Like Semiramis she stood before me. "Who has told you that there

was such a person--a Miss Klara--existing in this house?"

Retreat was impossible. I looked at Flamma, and she answered with an

encouraging nod; so I replied to the countess's imperious inquiries--

"Lady Flamma."

"Yes, it was I," said Flamma, rising from her seat, and stepping to my

side.

"You shall pay dear to me for this!" cried Siegfried, with a threatening

look; but I took her hand, and said--

"Pray compose yourself. This lady stands under my protection. I have

done myself the honour to ask for her hand, and I wait for your

decision."

"Show the Devil your finger, and he will take your hand; treat a peasant

with kindness, and he will think himself your equal," said he, with a

sneer.

"Siegfried!" said Diodora, "I beg you not to forget that this is my

room, and that my guests are not to be insulted in my presence. This

affair does not concern you in the least."

"But if he is impertinent?" growled he.

"Perhaps the count might be more careful in his choice of language,"

said I, proudly, "if he would consider that a Dumany fought as a knight

and a soldier under the national tricolour at Mount Thabor, while the

first Vernöczy was still serving as a humble shepherd on the Verhovina."