I was sorry for this as soon as I said it, for I had offended Flamma

also; but the bitter pill had the desired effect, inasmuch as the whole

aristocratic family regained their usual lymphatic composure.

"Flamma," said Diodora, coldly, "have you given this gentleman the right

to claim your hand?"

"Yes."

"Then--I do not object," and she motioned with her hand. I understood

the gesture, and extended my hand to Flamma. She accepted it, and I

bowed and kissed her hand. That was our betrothal. Siegfried took out a

cigarette, lighted it, and blow the smoke at the chandelier.

"I had other intentions concerning Flamma's future," said Diodora again,

"but, since her choice has fallen on you, I am satisfied--at least, I

do not object. Only I beg of you not to delay your nuptials. Have them

celebrated as soon as possible, for I intend to go to Heligoland--to try

the baths."

To Heligoland!--that was the place I should have gone to, if I had

listened to good sense--and to Cenni.

"Certainly," I said; "I am only too happy in the prospect. If you will

give me leave I shall hasten to Szepes-Váralja, to the bishop, for a

dispensation, and, as soon as I am in possession of that document, I

shall return, and we can have the ceremony performed the day after my

return."

"Then I should also wish," said Diodora again, "that the wedding might

be altogether a simple family affair, with no strangers as witnesses."

"Your ladyship expresses my own wishes."

"If so, we might have the ceremony performed here, in our chapel."

I remembered Father Paphuntius. "No, I'll have nothing to do with that

chapel."

Siegfried smiled as he guessed the reason of my embarrassed silence, and

then Flamma smiled, and Diodora also. At last, as a smile has a soothing

effect on everybody, we all laughed. "No," said Diodora, "I was not

speaking of the park hermitage. We have a chapel here in the château,

and if we do not invite too many we shall have room enough."

"I shall invite no one but a single witness as my best man."

"But do not ask me to fill that position," said Siegfried; "for I am

invited to go buffalo-hunting in Volhynia, and shall start to-morrow."

"There is something else," said Diodora. "After the wedding ceremony I

shall hand you over Flamma's dowry, which she has inherited from her

grandfather. It consists of a million of florins in good bonds."

I bowed in silence, looking at Flamma.

"No; this is a matter which concerns you as well as her, and you must

know that her grandfather laid down the condition that if she, guided by

whatever motive, should release herself from the bonds of the Catholic

religion, she should lose everything, and surrender the inheritance to

collateral relatives."

"I cannot think that such an event could take place at any time."

"Time will show."

There was a long pause, and I thought best to take my leave. I turned

first to Flamma, who laid both her hands in mine, and, looking up to me,

asked me softly to return soon. Then Diodora languidly extended her hand

to me, and I bowed over it with cool, studied politeness, and as I

looked up I saw that Siegfried thought fit to shake my hand in honour of

the new relation between us. He even went so far as to embrace me. "God

bless you, my dear--cousin," he said, laughingly; but, thank God, he did

not think it necessary to kiss me!

A week later Flamma and I were married. Everything went on in the

regular way. No objection, no obstacle was raised. The ceremony was

held in Vernöcze in the afternoon, and the same evening I was free to

take my bride home to Dumanyfalva. From one of the great portals I drove

with Flamma; from the other, Diodora and Cenni started on a trip to

Heligoland. Siegfried had gone to Volhynia six days before.

If you think that with this marriage my story is at an end, you are

mistaken; it has hardly begun. It is a strange story, and not pleasant

to dwell on; but you shall judge for yourself.

X.

AFTER THE WEDDING.

So overwhelming was my happiness that I sometimes fancied that it was

all a dream, and that I should wake to find myself in my former

condition. In one short week I had had my old mansion refurnished in a

style worthy of the high-born and gently-reared bride who was to inhabit

it; and I thought what joy it would give me if she should walk through

the halls and chambers of her new home, and find everything arranged to

suit her own delicate and refined taste, and answering all her

requirements as to beauty and comfort.

And then I had dreamt of the first supper we should eat at home at our

own table; each dish an inviting delicacy, deliciously prepared; and yet

we should hardly taste of it, our palates thirsting for different

feasts.

And now this dream had become a reality, and I looked at my beloved, and

tried to catch a glance of her beautiful, downcast eyes. I had as yet

never enjoyed the privilege of a kiss from her lips, and I was longing

for one; but when I tried to draw her close to me, she whispered,

"Don't, we shall be observed by the servants!"

At last the meal was over, and we rose from the table.

"Pray lead me to your work-room. I have yet to hand you over my dowry."

I laughed. "Time enough for that a week or more hence. No? Well, any day

you please; but not now." Still she persisted.

"It has to be done this evening. I can't keep it any longer. You did not

accept of it from Diodora, so you must take it from me. It is no longer

my own--it is yours."

"Dearest, there is no such distinction existing! Since this blessed

morning neither of us can claim possession of anything that is not

common to both alike. What is mine is all yours, and what is yours I

claim all for myself! For the marriage tie has made us one for ever!"

"But pray come," she said again; "I have the chest with the securities

here with me, and I should like to have it all over."

I sighed and obeyed. At the door of my study she left me for a moment,

returning instantly with a rosewood chest, richly ornamented with

silver. On one of her bracelets a tiny filigree key was dangling; with

this key she opened the chest, and then, stepping back, she said--

"Convince yourself. The contents must amount to exactly one million of

florins."

"I am quite convinced," I said, "and accept it as correct."

"That you shall not. Let us take out everything, and reckon up the

amount." With that she took the papers out herself, and I had to sit

down, take slate and pencil, while she dictated to me the value of each

bond, its title, and, looking into every one, she satisfied herself that

the coupons were attached to it.

In the abstract it may seem rather a pleasant occupation for a married

couple to reckon up a million of money as their joint property; but, in

this concrete instance, to spend the wedding-night in a study, making

pecuniary computation, is the pinnacle of pedantry.

At last it was done; and, as I computed it, I made the total to be one

million and twenty-five thousand florins.

"How is that possible?" she asked.

I had to explain to her the fluctations of the market price in relation

to the nominal value, which was the basis of our computation.

"Then let us look for the market-price of the bonds as it is at present.

I know it is to be found in every newspaper," and with that she took one

up from the table, looked for the exchange report, and dictated again,

"Hungarian real estate bonds, 85; Lower-Austrian, 88; Transylvanian, 82,

etc."

This time we have thirty thousand florins less than the million.

"How is that possible?" she asked again.

"Dearest," said I, "let that be! What does it matter if--"

"But it does matter. My grandfather left me exactly one million; neither

more nor less. So I must find out this balance of thirty thousand,

also."

"Maybe, at the time when he bequeathed this money to you the price of

these securities was higher than at present," I suggested.

"That is possible. But then there ought to be some list, or something

else relating to it. Let me look it over again."

Great heavens! she took everything out again, and searched for a last

year's exchange list. A crumbled yellow newspaper clipping was found,

and then the whole process had to be repeated again; and now thank God,

the million came out even! I drew a great sigh of relief; but I had

triumphed too soon. She asked for pen and ink, and, as I got up from the

seat before the writing-desk, she sat down and wrote on each of the

bonds, deeds, obligations, mortgages, etc., her own name--"Flamma Maria

Dumany of Dumanyfalva, _née_ Countess Vernöczy of Vranicsa," in a clear,

almost masculine hand.

"What is the use of this, dearest?" I asked.

"You know," she replied, "all these papers, as yet, bear the name of my

grandfather, and we could not realise upon them as they are. I must

first write my own name upon each."

"But we do not want to realise on them."

"That you don't know--at present."

"But there would be time for this on some future day."

"No. Pray compose yourself. I have to finish this now."

And she did finish it. On two hundred different securities she wrote, in

bold, large letters, her full name, and I stood there and looked on in

helpless despair.

At last there was an end of it. She put the papers in the chest again,

handed me the key, and begged me to lock everything up in the safe. I

obeyed, in the ardent hope that at last I had done with papers and

accounts.

"There is something else I have to hand over to you," said Flamma, as I

stepped nearer; and, drawing from the pocket of her dress an envelope,

she handed me an official-looking document, fastened with tri-coloured

tape, with a large official seal upon it. It was a power of attorney

from Flamma Maria, Countess Vernöczy of Vranicsa, to her husband Dr.

Cornelius Dumany of Dumanyfalva, giving him full authority over her

dowry, consisting of real estate, bonds, etc., to the amount of one

million of florins, and authorising him to sell or retain or use the

aforesaid securities according to his own need or pleasure, and without

previous consultation with any person, his wife included.

"Dearest," I said, "this is very generous of you; but there is no need

of any such document to give me proof of your confidence."

"I did not intend it as such a proof."

"Then what was your intention?"

"To give you no cause to accuse me of meanness. You shall not say that I

left you on your wedding-day without a shilling in your pocket, as your

friend was left on the Isle of Wight."

I gazed at her, at the pale face that was even paler than usual, and

cold and inanimate as a block of ice.

"Flamma!" I cried, "what does it mean? How am I to take this?"

"As a confession. That other man has made me--his--wife."

"Flamma!"

She stood there, pale, cold, statue-like, and her voice sounded like

that of an automaton. I felt like one stupefied, like one who had meant

to enter the gates of paradise and found himself in a sea of fire and

brimstone.

"Who is the man?" I stammered.

"Siegfried."

"And why did he not marry you, if--"

"Because he is married already. His wife lives in Egypt, and he cannot

get a legal divorce from her."

"And why have you married me? For we are married. The ceremony of this

afternoon was real, not a comedy like that other?"

"No; we are married. When that--misfortune--happened to me Siegfried

promised to marry me to some distinguished gentleman who might give me a

good name and an acceptable position, so that the marriage should need

no explanation."

"When was that?"

"Three months ago."

"At the time I arrived from Vienna?"

"Yes."

"Was that the reason for his instantaneous proffer of friendship?"

"Yes."

"And for that reason I was nominated for Parliament?"

"Yes, but that also was the cause of your first failure. It was

Siegfried who bribed the witnesses against you. He wanted to crush your

pride, draw you closer to him, bring you into close connection with and

dependence upon our homes and us."

"So it was all a conspiracy?"

"Yes."

"And Cenni's mock-marriage and your betrayal of the scheme?"

"Were meant to win your confidence."

"So Cenni co-operated with you?"

"She had to. At first she opposed it, and meant to win you for herself.

She is a poor girl, and dependent on Diodora's charity; and she had to

give way."

"And Diodora?"

"It was she who designed the whole plot. Her sickness that night was

simulated in order to bring you near me, and to encourage you to the

proposal."

This whole discourse, so closely resembling a cross-examination, had

altogether the appearance of such an interrogatory as a magnetiser would

address to his subject; and the answers I received were given with the

plain, involuntary precision characteristic of hypnotised persons. She

stood there before me, with her hands clasped in each other; that

seraph-face of hers, that seemed the type of innocence and purity,

without a tinge of colour, although her dreadful confession was enough

to paint the cheeks of the most degraded woman with the colour of shame.

She seemed to have no bashfulness, no sense of shame, and to be wholly

incapable of realising her offence. And I had not believed in a Devil!

Here he was before me, in the shape of this fair woman, who had tempted

me with her angel's mien to sell my soul for her, and now she was

dragging me down with her to eternal damnation! And the other one had

warned me! She had told me with that "biting kiss" of hers that this

seeming angel was no angel, but a Devil to kill me body and soul. She

had told me that this fair rose was full of foul poison, and her warning

had filled me with vain conceit and enhanced my love for my executioner.

I saw it now. Cenni had meant to make that elopement real; and if I had

taken her she would have given me her love, as this one had given me her

accursed million. Money to pay for my honest name, money for my lost

life and happiness, money to bribe me to the endurance of these hellish

tortures!

Impossible! I cannot believe that human nature can be so vile, so

miserably cunning and treacherous. This is some evil dream, some test,

perhaps, of the sincerity of my love and trust in her.

"Flamma!" I said--"dearest! do not continue this ugly jest. I cannot

hear foul words come out of your pure mouth;" and I tried to take her

hand. But she drew back.

"I have told you the truth," she said, with a repellent gesture.

The truth! The truth! This shameful, horrid confession was the truth?

Like an idiot or a lunatic I stared, gazing before me, with scarcely a

thought in my stunned, aching head. A Calabrian dagger lay before me on

the table. I had taken it from the museum, and used it for

paper-cutting. Upon the steel blade was graven, in golden letters,

"_Buona notte_;" and "_Buona notte! buona notte_," I kept incoherently

murmuring.

"Have you no other question to address to me?" she asked, in a tremulus

voice.

I shook my head, and pointed to the door, and, like a wooden puppet, she

turned and disappeared through it. At the moment when her back was

turned something like a flame flashed through my brain and body. For an

instant I felt a mad impulse to rush after her, and with one bound bury

this two-edged knife in her heart. Yes, in her heart; but from behind,

just as they had stabbed me unawares, like assassins. My better self

kept me back. My Uncle Diogenes rose before me. "Never quarrel with,

never hurt a woman!" and my professional instinct was awakened. I should

then have destroyed two lives; with the guilty I should have slain the

innocent--a life which was in God's keeping as yet. Now the door closed

behind her, and I had let the only opportunity for a deadly revenge upon

the woman who had tricked me pass by neglected. Had I killed her at that

moment I should have washed off the stain she had brought on my name in

her own blood. "Look," I might have said, "she was led astray by another

man, and I have killed her; it was my right and my duty!" This I could

no longer do. She had escaped, and would live on safe and unharmed, and

I should be dead and buried alive. I remembered now how confused they

looked, Cenni and she, when I related to them the story of my friend,

and how I had prided myself on my own prudence and good sense! And the

trap was already laid for me, and I, who had thought myself safe from

every such danger, here was I, on my wedding night, left alone,

insulted, degraded as he was. No, not quite. He had had no money, and I

had received a million. I had been paid for my disgrace, bribed for my

infamy with money!

Great Jehovah, Whose vengeance is mighty, lend me Thine ear! No! Thou

art too just and upright, I'll have nothing from Thee! Turn from me! I

will none of Thy advice, none of Thy heavenly patience and magnanimous

mercy! That marble-hearted woman had said to me, "If you deny God, He

will forgive you, for He is infinitely good and merciful; but if you

deny the Devil, he will be revenged on you!" and I had seen the devilish

light in their eyes. I had shuddered and shunned them, and yet I had

plunged headlong into the abyss which they had opened at my feet.

But now they had conjured up the Devil before me, I felt that in my own

breast they had awakened a demon quite as cunning and wicked as their

hoofed and horned idol; and we would see whose teachings would prove

more destructive! Only, cool blood! Let me not betray myself; let me

consider how to act, and then keep my own counsel. Shall I go to

Volhynia after that man? Hold him to account, invite him to face the

muzzle of my pistol or the edge of my sword? He is a ruffian and a

notorious duellist. I am a bad shot and an indifferent fencer. He is

perfect in both; it is his profession. Naturally, he would kill me, and

where would be my revenge? Should I kill myself? Die the death of a

suicide, and be spoken of as a lunatic who had crazy fancies because his

fortune had turned his head? And what would be the result? Flamma would

perhaps faint away for a few seconds, have bad dreams for a week, wear

mourning for six months, and--would be none the worse for being a widow,

whereas I should be laughed at as a silly fool. Shall I sue for a legal

divorce? "_Si fuerit dolus_?" Had I not had enough of notoriety? Enough

of laughter, calumny, and ridicule? Must I drag my honest and hitherto

respected name through the mire, and become the laughing-stock of every

fop throughout the country? No, anything but that! Help me, thou worser

self, thou Devil in my own breast, help me to find some revenge worthy

of a Devil's teaching! Give me death, for it is death I crave; but such

a death as will give me peace and rest and honour in my grave, and to

those others remaining here on earth, shame, sorrow, and remorse! I am a

dead man from this accursed night forward, but I can, at least, choose

the manner of my corporal death, and woe to her who has driven me to the

choice!

When the morning dawned my scheme was complete, and it was a scheme that

did honour to my special demon. I would die, but fame and glory should

write my epitaph; and dead, I should be remembered by this woman with

lifelong sorrow. She shall never be happy; and in remembering me, her

soul shall be filled with bitter repentance for the misfortune she

brought on me. She shall yearn for me, shed bitter tears for me, and

fret away her life in despair. This should be my revenge.

XI.

MY SCHEME.

Next morning I said to my wife--"We cannot stay here. Our next year must

be spent in travelling in foreign parts, and we shall start for Paris in

three days. You had better make arrangements accordingly."

"My arrangements are made, for I have not unpacked my things yet. So

everything is at your command," was her answer.

I left her, and drove over to the county town to my solicitor, and told

him to borrow as much money on my property as he could possibly get from

the financial institutions. As a pretext I told him that I had the

intention of buying lands. He advised me to wait, for he had learned for

certain that in a year's time Siegfried would have to sell out. His

estates were mortgaged over and over, and matters were going very ill

with him. If, then, I should add to the million my wife had brought me,

the money I had and the money I could at any moment raise on my

property, I should be able to purchase the Vernöczy estates.

This was a revelation that for a moment made me hold my breath. It would

be something to tear that water-nymph on the Vernöczy crest from over

the portals of the château into the mire, and erect the Dumany crest on

the front of the proud old castle. But that feeling passed, and with it

the temptation. It would be no revenge on her to let her live as

mistress on the estates of her forefathers, and, first of all, I craved

revenge on her. More than that scoundrel who had betrayed her and then

flung her to me, I hated her, Lilith, the tempting devil in the guise of

a seraph! But I said to the lawyer, "Very well"--that I would consider

about it, and not buy anything at present; but that he should raise the

money, all the same, and send it for me to Paris, as well as the funds I

had inherited. Perhaps I might have use for the money there--at any

rate, he must send it. Then I took the rosewood chest with my wife's

dowry, and sent it by mail, and under the usual guarantee, to a

well-known banking firm in Brussels as a deposit.

Three days after, we were on our journey to Paris. I had taken the Swiss

route, for in those days it was the safest way to escape the obstacles

and annoyances which on the road through Germany were thrown in the way

of travellers to France. War was, so to speak, floating in the air, and

was each moment expected to break upon the two leading nations of the

Continent. At such a time the railroad termini are naturally the centres

of exciting scenes and noisy demonstrations; but the Swiss republic was

neutral, and the southern part of France was quiet. So we arrived in

Paris unmolested; and the great crowds in the boulevards, and the

multitude of detectives among the people, gave us the first notion that

something extraordinary was occurring.

At first the demonstrations were all in favour of peace. Labourers in

blue blouses were marching up in compact masses on the Place de la

Concorde, carrying white flags and signs with the inscriptions "_À bas

la guerre_" and "_Vive la paix_!" Public speakers delivered long

orations on the horrors of war, and protested against the ambitious,

fame-hunting tyrants who drove their innocent, peace-loving subjects

into bloody combats to feed their own greed for glory and power. But

their speeches were all blown to the winds. Bellona is a fair woman, and

the more she is slandered to her admirers the more ardent and

impassioned is their love for her. In vain did the orators protest that

France was all for peace, and would not be dragged into the perils of

war. The soil was thirsting for blood, and the day after our arrival in

Paris the declaration of war which Napoleon had issued against Prussia

was publicly announced.

I had been informed of these events long before they happened, and on

them my whole scheme was built. When the public enthusiasm was highest,

and the shouts "_À Berlin_!" loudest, when throngs of people crowded

through the streets, singing the "_Marseillaise_" and "_Le Départ_," I

mingled with them, bent on business.

During our journey I had shown my wife all those polite little

attentions which are due to a bride on her wedding tour from her

husband. Now I was looking for a residence for her. I found a handsome,

palatial-looking house, exquisitely furnished, which had been hastily

abandoned by a German diplomat at the first rumour of the war, and was

now in the market, with its carriages and horses, servants, and

everything. The bargain was made, and, as I took my wife to her

temporary home, she seemed to be struck with the delicate consideration

which I showed her. I saw by her face that she wished to protest against

this excess of luxury, which was not in keeping with our means. But

perhaps something in the expression of my face warned her to be silent;

perhaps it occurred to her that as she had given me full power to do

what I pleased with her dowry, I had acquired the right to squander

it--if it suited my whims--on herself.

When she was comfortably established I said to her--"I have offered my

services as an army physician to the French Government, and they have

been accepted. I have received my commission from the Duke of Palikao,

and shall start this evening for my destination."

"If it is your wish, I cannot oppose it," was her answer. What a meek,

obedient wife she was! Whatever I said or did, it was, "Pray please

yourself. Whatever you think best will satisfy me." She never showed the

slightest increase of temper, never offered the least resistance to my

arrangements. She was the same quiet, pale, silent, sylph-like being as

she had been when I first knew her, and I wondered that she had not

changed. We had been married only two weeks, but to me it seemed as if

seven hard winters and seven fierce tropical summers had passed since

that time, and had taken the marrow from my bones and every spark of

hope and brightness from my soul.

"I have left you forty thousand francs in the safe; they will last you

until the time of my return. You need not deny yourself anything you

wish," I said.

"Thank you. I shall manage the money carefully, and shall not spend more

than is strictly necessary. I am of a saving disposition."

These were our parting words, and we exchanged no others. I went to

H----'s banking-house to draw the money my solicitor had sent me, and

when they inquired whether I wanted checks or bills of exchange, I asked

for the latter, because, as I said, in time of war the Government might

bring in a _moratorium_.[4] "What," they laughed, "the Napoleonic

Government bring in _moratorium_? _Tête carrée_!" The latter was meant

as a compliment for me.

[Footnote 4: A governmental act of mercy in regard to the payment of

debts.]

By the next express train I went to Brussels, and then straight to the

banker to whom I had sent Flamma's million. I opened the chest in his

presence, and convinced him that it actually contained good

security--bonds and deeds for the sum of one million and twenty-five

thousand florins par--and asked him for an advance. The banker put

seventy-five per cent of the nominal value at my disposal, and I handed

him the power of attorney from my wife, and a written authorisation

permitting him to sell the securities without notice in the event of my

failure to repay the loan at a certain date.

This money, with a part of the funds which my solicitor had sent me,

amounted to two millions of francs. With this sum I went to a well-known

and trustworthy stockbroker, and instructed him to speculate with the

whole amount in French Government bonds for a fall.

"Do you intend to throw this money in the gutter?" said the man, eyeing

me critically.

"That is my own business, I presume," said I, calmly.

"Have you ever speculated on the Exchange before? Are you versed in

these manipulations?"

"No! Never!"

"Do you know the situation of the Money Market at present?"

"No."

"Then grant me leave to inform you by giving you a few data. All French

securities are rising in value. Paris is enthusiastic for the war. The

money-chests of the financial ring are open to the Government. The

French military force is fully equipped, ready to begin hostilities, and

stationed at the Rhone, whereas the Prussians are caught unprepared.

Bavaria will remain neutral, and the Danes are preparing to break into

Schleswig-Holstein. The sequel of the war can be foretold with such

certainty that a Paris financier offers, to any one who will accept it,

a wager of two hundred thousand francs against one hundred thousand that

on August 15 the French will march into Berlin."

"Well, you may take up that wager, also, for me."

The agent shrugged his shoulders, and accepted my offer for a bear

speculation. We agreed that from time to time we should communicate with

each other in cipher. Telegrams were to be forwarded through H----'s

Bank.

From Brussels I returned to Paris, and procured all the necessary

surgical instruments at my own expense. Next I bought three waggons with

strong Trakene horses for my own transport and that of the invalids,

furnished myself with all utensils requisite for camp hospitals, and

then, under the protecting ensign of the Geneva Cross, I joined the

regiment of the French army in which I had enlisted as volunteer

camp-surgeon. My scheme was clear now. I was a dead man. I was seeking

Death in his own realm, where he reigned supreme, and it was impossible

not to find him there, if one really sought him. So I should die, but

not the death of a suicide, despised, misjudged, forgotten, but a death

on the field of honour and glory, as a hero and a martyr of science and

philanthropy. And that accursed money which was given me as a fee for my

disgrace would be blown to naught, as my body would be by a merciful

Krupp shell. When the news of my death reaches that woman in Paris, she

will try hard to discover what I have done with her fortune--and mine!

But let her search ever so thoroughly, she would find--nothing! I had

left no trace of my operations, nothing from which she could regain one

penny. Then she would be compelled to come down from her height, return

to Hungary, and live a lonely, miserable, poverty-stricken existence on

my Slav kingdom, which I had mortgaged and ruined. She would have to

struggle against poverty and want, and, by daily care and close economy,

would have to pay from her scanty crops the heavy debts I had incurred.

All day she would pine and toil, all night she would sigh and grieve.

And in her dreams she would call me back, and ask me where I had buried

the treasures. Her priests would fail to console her, and she would

become superstitious, and resort to clairvoyants and mediums for the

solution of the torturing mystery. But no prayer or curse will reach me,

no incantation of conjurers or spirit-rappers will call me back. The

dead do not return, either for promised kisses or for promised bites.

XII.

SEEKING FOR DEATH.

To tell the truth, on my arrival at the camp I felt like an apprentice

in the presence of his masters. French surgery in general occupies a

foremost place. French camp-surgeons have acquired skill and experience

in their great military expeditions; there their studies receive the

finishing-touch, whereas the little skill and practice which I had came

entirely from the clinic and the dissecting-table.

But, nevertheless, I was very cordially received by the old, experienced

masters of the profession, to whom I stated that I had come, as a

voluntary apprentice, to aid in the work of philanthropy as best I

could. My immediate superior was old Duval, who had served as

camp-surgeon at Sebastopol, and I succeeded in acquiring his good

graces. He asked me if I had ever been on a battle-field before, and I

answered, a little ashamed, that I had never had that opportunity. In

spite of my descent from the chivalrous Hungarian nation, I know the

sound of the cannon only from hearing the salutes fired on our King's

birthday, or other occasions equally peaceful.

"It does not matter," said the old man, encouragingly. "You will get

over your first irritation at the noise, and then you will feel as much

at home and as safe as in your own study. There is not the least danger

for us. We hoist the Geneva flag with its red cross, and every civilised

foe respects that ensign. After the battle is over, and the enemy has

fled, beaten, shattered, and in disorder, we carry our ambulances to the

gory field, and take up the wounded, friend and foe alike. The severely

injured we attend to at once, dressing their wounds on the spot, and

then we place them all on our beds, and take them to our hospital-tents

for treatment."

This had been the old man's practice in many wars. The French had

invariably been victors and masters of the field; the enemy had

retreated, and then the French had taken up the wounded and nursed them

faithfully, whether friend or foe. That a time could come when the

French would be driven from the field, and the enemy would take up the

wounded, was deemed preposterous and out of the question.

We were attached to Marshal Douay's corps, but, unfortunately, I did not

receive the privilege of participating in the first battle at

Saarbrücken, where old Dr. Duval's experience was confirmed; the

Prussian advance was repulsed, and the victorious French gathered up the

wounded.

The first wounded soldiers whom we treated were foes; one an Englishman,

the other a German from Baden. Both were officers in the German army.

Three daring officers from the German camp, on horseback and in full

uniform, had galloped into the heart of the French camp in broad

daylight; there they had cut down the sentinel, ordered food and drink,

taken notes as to the camp, the position and order of the forces, the

number of the batteries, etc., until at last the French awoke from their

illusion, and recognised them as foes. They retreated firing, cutting

their way through the French lines, killing two French officers, one of

whom, as he expires, finds strength enough to return the fire, and one

of the three, the Englishman, falls shot in the abdomen. A second, the

Badener, is hewn down from his horse; but the third escapes unhurt, and

cuts his way back to the German camp.

This incident I regarded as a bad omen. The French were so confident, so

presumptuous, that they neglected the outpost service. Next day the

Germans attacked Marshal Douay at Weissenburg with three times his

force. This was the fault of the French, who ought to have attacked the

Germans with an overwhelming force, instead of waiting to be attacked by

them.

The French fought heroically against the crushing superiority of the

Germans, vainly hoping that the report of the cannonade would attract

assistance from a corps stationed in the neighbourhood of the

battle-field; but in this heroic fight their lines were sadly decimated.

At first they fought in the village, then they were forced out by the

Germans, and had to defend themselves among the vineyards and the

thickets. The soil was saturated with blood, and the dead and wounded

were lying about in ditches, copses, and everywhere.

"Sir," said I to Dr. Duval, "to-day the enemy will be master of the

field, and he will gather up the wounded, unless we prevent this by

picking them up while the fight lasts. Now, while the balls are flying

about, is our chance! Give me leave to go there with the ambulance."

"With all my heart! Try it if you have a mind to."

"If I had a mind to?" Why, of course, I had come for that; it was the

opportunity I had craved, the chance for the immortalising cannon-ball

to send me up to heaven and glory! So, taking the twelve men who were

given me as aids, I started off with the ambulance to the scene of the

battle.

There is not the slightest braggadocio about this. Soldiers, even in the

hottest ardour of battle, will carefully avoid firing at the life-saving

corps, which is distinguished by the sign of the red cross. But it is

impossible to prevent an exploding shell from sending its splinters

among them, and on that eventful day I had occasion to watch the course

of these splinters.

The firing did not cease for a moment. The roar of the artillery, the

cracking of the rifles created a deafening noise; the hoarse, grating

sounds from the French mitrailleuses, in particular, made a horrible

accompaniment to the dying groans of the wounded. But the French

mitrailleuses had found their match in the Krupp cannon. These fire no

balls, but some fiendish contrivances, longitudinal, cylindrical

projectiles, which explode as they alight, and scatter their deadly

fragments far and near.

All the injured men whom we took from the field were wounded by these

splinters. As we toiled, the hellish projectiles were flying over our

heads; but my experienced aids worked with the coolness of the harvester

when he hastens to save his crops from the threatening rain. They knew

well that these messages of death were not sent to them, but to the

French artillery, which was opposing the advance of the Germans. All

this while I felt that indescribable intoxication which is sure to

overtake every novice. I stood there in the terrible realm of death, in

the presence of the awful Moloch, Hamoves, the angel with the scythe. I

felt a chill, a shudder, and I bowed down before the omnipotent Lord of

life and death, the Almighty Ruler of the universe.

This short-lived sensation of terror every novice has to overcome. Nor

is anyone spared the humiliation of this experience. The eye can hardly

perceive anything of the effect of the shots, for the cannon-smoke

envelopes the surrounding objects in a thick cloud of fog. The Prussian

infantry were crouching down, and, while creeping and cringing thus,

they were pressing forward. Nothing but the smoke of their rifles

betrayed the level of their faces, and the French infantry were hidden

in ditches, behind bushes and trees, and firing from these

vantage-grounds. Only the Zouaves and the Turcos might now and then be

recognised by their red caps.

While the artillery was pealing, the bugle was sounding the commands.

All at once a strange drumbeat was heard from beside us, and the

veteran sergeant at my elbow said--

"Sir, we must get out of this with our beds at once. Cavalry is

advancing."

"Cavalry of the enemy?" I asked.

"Brother and enemy is all one in such a case. If we are in their way

they will crush us under their horses' hoofs, without observing what

body we belong to."

So we hastily picked up our beds with the wounded, and retreated with

all speed behind the line of battle. We had hardly reached security

when, from both sides, the cavalry advanced, both friends and enemies.

The earth shook with the stamping of the hoofs, "_Quadrupedante putrem

crepitu quatit ungula campum_."

Avoiding our right wing, a regiment of Prussian hussars was galloping

towards us; a regiment of French chasseurs on horseback, under command

of the commander-in-chief, Marshal Douay, in person, was dashing from

the hills to meet them. The strong west wind was blowing clouds of dust

in the faces of the French, the backs of the Germans. All at once the

Prussian regiment divided itself, wheeling to right and left; behind

them a whole battery of artillery appeared, and a powerful discharge

saluted the chasseurs.

The shells made a fearful gap in the French horsemen, but still they

dashed bravely on, shouting wildly, and giving the enemy's artillery no

time for a second shot. The Prussians wheeled swiftly, and hussars,

battery and all, fled before the lines of the French chasseurs. We

thought this wild retreat meant victory for the French, but we

discovered that it was only a ruse.

When the clouds of dust had dispersed, we saw that on the battle-field

horses, struggling in deadly convulsions, and men in the throes of

death, were strewn thickly around. We hastened thither to save whom we

could, but, oh! what an awful sight it was! Man and beast piled in

confusion and crushing each other. The neighing of the wounded horse

mingled with the last prayer, or the death-groan, of its rider. Maddened

horses, with their dead or wounded riders hanging in the saddle, were

galloping on, while the less-injured soldiers, who had been thrown from

their slain horses, or were struggling to extricate themselves from

beneath them, were cursing and swearing, and invoking God and Devil for

vengeance on the Prussians.

Among those who were fatally injured was Marshal Douay himself. As the

old sergeant drew him out from under his horse, the blood rushed from an

awful gash on his neck. "_O, mon général_!" sobbed the old soldier,

trying to close the gash with his pocket-handkerchief.

"Don't cry!" said the dying chief, hoarsely. "Go shout to them '_En

avant_!' in my place."

It was a fatal command, this "_En avant_!" The French chasseurs had

pursued the German hussars to a hop plantation, which proved to be full

of concealed Prussian sharp-shooters. At this point the hussars

attacked the chasseurs in the rear, while the sharp-shooters received

them with a volley from their quick-firing rifles, and a general

onslaught was begun upon the brave corps. The chasseurs endeavoured to

break into the hop field, but such a plantation is a terrible

fortification, with its walls of vines fastened to other walls of stout

poles, and behind each a hidden foe with a quick-slaying weapon. The

whole fine corps of cavalry was destroyed then and there.

The fall of the commander-in-chief, Marshal Douay, had decided the fate

of the battle. When finally, all too late, MacMahon arrived with his

troops, Douay's unfortunate command was shattered, and the battle of

Weissenburg lost.

XIII.

MY DISCHARGE.

In spite of this terrible disaster, the retreat of the French troops was

accomplished in good order, and but few prisoners fell into the hands of

the Prussians; even those few were mostly Zouaves and Turcos, not real

French soldiers.

That we had really been beaten was not believed by anybody. Everybody

was inspired by the conviction that the Weissenburg disaster was nothing

but an incident. A comparatively small defensive force had been attacked

by an overwhelmingly large force of Prussians, and was compelled to

retreat for the moment; but the fight had been only a trifling prologue

to the great battle to come, or else was part of a deep-laid plan which

would secure to us the final victory. So it had been at Solferino, when

Benedek had been allowed to attack and disperse the French-Italian

troops on their left wing, while at Solferino itself the Austrian army

was destroyed. So it would be here. It was supposed that this slight

victory was allowed to the Prussians, so as to divert their attention

from the movements of MacMahon and Bazaine, who were certain to crush

them all at their first encounter.

Next day the Emperor himself and his young heir-apparent appeared among

us, presenting to each of those who had distinguished themselves at the

battle of the preceding day some badge of honour. At the recommendation

of old Dr. Duval, the Chevalier Cross of the Legion of Honour was pinned

to my breast, and the reporter of a Paris newspaper wrote a flourishing

item about the heroic and self-sacrificing Hungarian surgeon. When I

read it, I thought of that woman in Paris, and what she would think of

these reports. Perhaps she would say to herself, "So he is not

everywhere the same coward as he was here! He has some pluck, some

physical courage at least."

But in vain did we wait for our revenge upon the Prussians. After

Weissenburg came Spicheren, then Wörth. Everywhere the German force was

stronger than the French, and it turned out that their artillery was

better than ours. MacMahon was cut off from Bazaine, and in the gigantic

battles at Bézonville and Gravelotte, Bazaine, with his force of one

hundred and fifty thousand men, was driven back into Metz. Strasburg was

besieged, and MacMahon cut off from the road to Paris.

In every battle that was fought the Prussians remained masters of the

field, and it was always they who took charge of the wounded. Of course,

each corps was in ignorance as to the fate of the others, and if one was

beaten or repulsed, it was fully convinced that the other had meanwhile

been victorious elsewhere. The Paris newspapers and the Bourse supported

and increased that belief. One evening, after a forced march that very

much resembled a regular flight, we arrived at a certain town. I entered

a café, and being very curious to learn something of the present state

of the Money Market, I looked for a newspaper, and here it was:--"Paris.

Extraordinary Upward Movement! Rate of interest raised to 68-15, and

rising rapidly. News of great victories!"

"Well," I thought, "my two millions are nicely exploded by this time."

Underneath I read in large letters, "The Prussians severely beaten by

MacMahon! The German Crown Prince captured and made prisoner by

MacMahon!"

That very day we had been compelled to leave our entire baggage in the

enemy's hands and run for our lives, so to speak, and here they are

talking of the German Prince having been captured. That is how they

create upward movements on 'Change. But could this last? Surely such

lies would soon be exposed! How long was it possible to keep on in this

way?

How long? For ever.

After the massacre at Mars-la-Tour, MacMahon's forces were practically

scattered to the winds, running aimlessly about, and, when coming into

contact with the enemy, hardly thinking any longer of resistance. If a

Prussian Uhlan was seen far off on the road every man took to his heels.

The infantry threw down their rifles, the cuirassiers their helmets and

breastplates; the gunners cut the traces of the horses, jumped upon

their backs, and dashed on, without thinking of the fate of the rest. On

horseback, with a loaded revolver in hand, I had to keep guard at the

side of the ambulance carts, to keep the marauders away from the

wounded. Once I had a narrow escape from being captured by the

Bavarians. It was at a skirmish of artillery. A couple of French and a

couple of German pieces were in position. The French were quickly

disabled by the Germans, and even the head gunner was severely wounded.

I took him on my shoulders, and got him out of the line of fire. The

Bavarians sent another shrapnell shell after us, and, as the projectile

burst over our heads, I felt a blow on the leather rim of my képi. "A

shrapnel splinter!" I thought, scornfully: "could it not have hit me a

little more to the right, and have done with me?"

After I had hastily placed the wounded officer on the waggon, I jumped

on horseback, and hastened after the flying troops. Upon a wooden bridge

that led over a shallow rivulet the soldiers were crowded. I did not

stop to consider, but dashed on with my waggons to the water. A

detachment of Bavarian hussars, guessing at my intention, was there to

prevent its execution. A young lieutenant of hussars was leading the

detachment, and, placing the muzzle of his revolver to my forehead, he

shouted: "_Rendez-vous: demande pardon_!"

"At last!" I thought, "here is my opportunity for the glorious end. This

fellow is the man I want," and, turning my face full toward him, I

looked coolly into the barrel of his weapon. "Shoot, comrade!" I said.

"You'll get neither me, nor my charges, as long as I am alive."

He gazed at me, as if scrutinising my features. "You are not French?" he

asked.

"I am a Hungarian," I answered.

"Kornel, and no doubt about it!" he exclaimed, taking hold of my hand

and shaking it. "Don't you know me? I am Plessen." Sure enough, he was

my favourite chum from the University; but we had not seen each other

for years, and the last three months of camp-life had done more to

change a man's outward appearance than whole years at home. "Go on,

comrade," he said, with a farewell shake of the hand, "and may our next

meeting be a pleasanter one! Good-bye!" With that he let me take my

charges safely across the water and over the fields, avoiding the open

roads, until finally, as night fell, I reached with my patients the camp

at Chalons, and found my way to the camp hospital.

What a cursed, vile task old Duval had had all day! Nothing but sore

heels and slight shrapnel scars in the rear!--and he embraced me and

kissed me all over for bringing him now three cart-loads of real wounded

men, with wounds got from sword-cuts, rifle-bullets, and gun-shots.

"What an invaluable, brave fellow you are!" he said to me, handling each

of my charges with the tenderness of a loving father; "but now you shall

share the privilege of dressing their wounds, and assist me in the

necessary operations." This was a privilege indeed, and for a while we

were very busy. When we had finished, he put his hand into his pocket

and said, "Now, my boy, I will also present you with something."

I thought he meant to give me one of his utterly wretched cigars; but

no--it was a paper, and, on handing it over to me, Duval said, "It is

your discharge, my boy; you are free."

"My discharge?" I asked, offended, "and why, pray? Have I not done more

than my duty? And if so, how have I merited this disgrace?"

"I am afraid that it was just your extraordinary ardour that brought it

on you; that's it, you have done more than your duty; and as you are a

foreigner, it is natural to ask, Why have you done it? Why have you

exposed your own life, contrary to custom, picking up the wounded where

the fight was the hottest and the balls flying thickest? True, you have

by this course saved the lives of many that would have bled to death, or

been otherwise lost; but it is a marvellous thing that you could do all

that and escape unhurt. The fact is, you have always come back with a

sound skin. Can you explain this miracle? Can you tell me, why you, a

foreigner, took the risk of such imminent danger for--Hecuba--that is,

for wounded French soldiers?"

The old man was right. I could not explain it, for I could not tell him

that I had regarded their great national calamity as a means of carrying

out my petty suicidal designs and giving them a decent cloak. I never

thought of it before; but now I had to acknowledge that my conduct

looked suspicious to strangers. What will be their suspicions, I

thought, when they learn that I have talked German with a Prussian

officer, and shaken hands with him? Would this not give new matter for

their suspicions, and was it not natural in the vanquished to believe in

treachery?

And then I thought what a self-conceited fool I had been to think I

could command God Mars to afford me a disguise for self-murder. "Why,"

he said, "do you suppose these great national conflagrations are kindled

to cook your meals on? What do I care for your family quarrels? If you

are tired of life, take a rope and hang yourself on that willow, and

there is an end of you and your paltry complaints."

As I stood there musing, old Duval turned my face around and

exclaimed--"Look! look! Your forehead is wounded."

"A mere scratch with a shrapnel splinter," I said, bitterly, "not worth

plastering." I took from him the letter with my discharge, presented him

with my camp outfit, instruments, horses, etc., and kept nothing but one

of the waggons and a pair of horses for my journey homeward--that is, to

Paris. This was now the speediest way of travelling, for the railways

were all occupied with the transport of troops.

Before I left Chalons, I entered a café and drank a cupful of some black

beverage that was called coffee, although I think it tasted of soot, and

read one of the Paris newspapers--the last that had arrived the same

day.

A dazzling glare of light was visible through the windows, arising from

the valley. It was the burning camp. The Emperor had given orders to

burn all tents, since there was not time enough to strike them and carry

them off. So everything was left to be consumed by the flames, while the

men fled for their lives.

The newspapers in the coffee-house were going from hand to hand, and

were eagerly devoured. At last I obtained one. I found the following

report in large letters--

"The Prussian army scattered! Two hundred Krupp guns remaining as

captures in the hands of the French! Commander Moltke a prisoner!

Bismarck fatally wounded! Price of rentes, 1 franc 25."

If this were true, one part of my scheme had succeeded. The two millions

were annihilated. But what of the other part? I was still alive, and

death would not come to me without disgrace and ridicule. What a

position to be in!

XIV.

HOME! SWEET HOME!

It was damp, disagreeable, dirty weather when I arrived in Paris. It had

rained for the last few days, for usually after great battles stormy

weather sets in. The poets will have it that heaven washes away with

tears the blood spilt by man. Scientists say that the gas freed by the

combustion of so much gunpowder, together with the detonations at the

explosions, brings on the rain. The fact is that after all great battles

rain is sure to follow.

As I alighted from the one-horsed vehicle that had brought me to the

door of my residence, my own porter asked me whom I was looking for at

this house? I answered "Myself," but found it difficult to convince him

that I was his master. At last he let me in, and rang the bell three

times as a signal that the master of the house had arrived.

The valet met me at the ante-chamber, and stared at me with mouth and

eyes wide open; but no wonder. I must have cut a handsome figure, with,

that torn and perforated red képi on my head, and the dirty,

blood-smeared cotton handkerchief around my forehead. My face was

blackened by exposure to the sun and wind, and had a grizzly beard of

three months' growth upon it. My uniform was dirty and torn, and above

it was a rubber cloak with a hood, while on my feet were a pair of

rough, high top-boots, with spurs. By my side I had a sabre, a revolver,

and a bag for bread and bacon--not a very gentlemanly appearance, by any

means.

"Is madame at home?" I asked.

"Yes, sir. Madame is in her boudoir."

"Then tell her, monsieur has come home, and afterward see that a fire is

kindled in my room. I am cold and damp."

The valet was a very humane and obliging fellow. He asked me to step

into the _salon_, where a fire was burning already. I was forcibly

struck by this proof of democratic condescension. Fancy his allowing a

fellow with such a robber's look, who had unexpectedly intruded into the

house, to enter the luxurious, polished, gilded _salon_ of--his own

wife!

The fire was burning in the grate, and I went up to it to warm myself,

when the door opened, and, with quick steps, there entered--my wife. She

had entered hastily, but, on seeing me she faltered, and stood

motionless at the door.

Well might she start at my strange appearance; but, if I looked dreadful

to her, her appearance was positively loathsome to me. I had not seen

her for three months, and she had visibly changed since then.

To another man his wife looks charming in that condition, but to me my

wife seemed perfectly disgusting, horrid, abominable! I cannot find a

phrase to express the detestation that filled me as I looked at her.

"You have come away from the camp?" she asked, in a low tone.

"I have been discharged," I answered.

"You? How could that be?"

"They believed me to be a Prussian spy."

"Nonsense! I have read so much of your courage and daring, of the

self-sacrifice which made you risk your own life to save that of others.

The papers were full of praise of your magnanimous conduct."

"That's it exactly. They think a respectable surgeon has no business to

risk his hide or exhibit sentiment. So they told me to pack off."

"But you are wounded!" she cried out, as I took off my képi.

"A mere scratch, and already closed. It's nothing." And, throwing the

rubber cloak from my shoulders, I stepped nearer to the gate.

"You have been decorated!" she said, pointing to the "_légion

d'honneur_" on my breast.

"Trash!" I said, tearing it off, and with an angry gesture throwing it

almost into the fire.

She ran up to me, and held my hand. "No! no!" she said: "I shall not let

you! Leave it on your breast!" and, snatching it out of my hand, she

pinned it in its place again.

"Well, let it be," I thought. At least there would be one spot on my

body that was honourable. But it was time to change the subject. For a

soldier coming home from the gory field of honour might speak to his

wife of his wounds and his deserts, but I? As I was no real soldier, so

my wound was no real wound, this badge of merit not really merited,

and--my wife--was not really my wife. So I changed the subject, and,

like a conscientious family physician, I questioned her about her

health. My questions were purely professional, and she gave her answers

in confidence, as patients usually answer the questions of their

_ordinarius_. I advised her as to the best way of avoiding

inconveniences connected with her present condition, and so on. After

the consultation was over, I asked her if no letters had arrived for me

during my absence.

"Only one--in the last day or two, and that has been opened."

"By whom?"

"By the police, I think. For a short time back all letters coming from

foreign parts are opened by the police."

"Have you also read the letter?"

"I looked into it certainly; but I have not read it. It is written in

cipher."

"Ah!" I thought, "the communication from my agent to say that the

millions have disappeared." But I did not show any impatience to get at

the contents of the letter. I listened politely as she related to me the

events of her life in my absence.

After a while the valet announced that my room was ready for me, and

then she asked if I would not dine with her? "No, thank you!" said I,

with an inward shudder; "I am quite unfamiliar with your civilised

customs, and will thank you if you will permit me to retire to my room."

In my room I found the letter upon my writing-desk. As I had expected,

it came from my agent in Brussels. The key to the cipher code was in my

pocket, rolled up in a cigarette; so that in case of my death on the

battle-field some soldier or nurse might smoke the cigarette and

unwittingly destroy this last clue to the mystery which surrounded my

money transactions. The letter ran as follows:--

"SIR,--The two millions which you entrusted to my care have doubled

themselves, and I hold four millions of francs for you. The decline

is continuous, and will hold good for a considerable time to come.

The Paris Bourse created an enormous rise by fictitious reports of

victories; but the decline was all the sharper in consequence. The

French are beaten everywhere, and if you will consent to let me

continue in the present course, I shall double your money again on

short sales."

Camp life had taught me to swear, and I was furious. Fate was mocking

me, tantalising me. Instead of taking from me the accursed money which I

had received in exchange for my life, my soul's salvation, and my

honour, it doubled that money, and threw it back at me. But I would see

if I could not get the better of blind fortune. I did not want that

money, and would have none of it.

I sat down and wrote an answer on the spot I gave the agent fixed

instructions to speculate with the whole amount for a rise, and that

immediately. As soon as I had translated this into cipher, I gave it to

the valet to be posted.

Then I took out the rough fare I had been accustomed to during my camp

life, the rye bread and bacon, and, slicing it up, I toasted it at the

grate fire. Surely a man who had thrown four millions out at the window

a few minutes before had a right to indulge in such luxuries.

But the cognac which I had been used to drink I could not relish at

home. For three months I had drunk nothing but cognac. It is a powerful

stimulant, good for fever and ague, hunger and thirst, influenza-cold,

and, yes, the tremor before a battle. But here, at home, I wanted

something I could not get there--a glass of clear, fresh water.

Oh, how I enjoyed it! How deliciously refreshing it was after so long a

craving! Home had still a great treasure to offer me--a glass of clear,

fresh water.

What a precious, sweet, home it was!

XV.

VOX POPULI.

The street was very noisy, and a tumult of loud voices, shouts, etc.,

penetrated through the blinds, shutters, and doors into the room in

which I sat. I took that to be the normal condition of a Paris street,

for in large cities there is always some spectacle afoot to set the mob

shouting. But I was mistaken. The valet, whom I had sent to the

post-office to mail my letter to the broker at Brussels, entered

hastily, his face livid with fear.

"Monsieur, save yourself!" he cried. "The mob is coming."

"Coming where?"

"To this hotel. A German diplomat lived here before you, and the people

think this is his house still. Someone has given them a hint, and they

have taken it up, and they are coming to storm and plunder the house.

The residences of two bankers have been demolished in this way, only

because their names had a German sound."

"Let them alone," I said; "I will talk with their leaders. Now go to

madame, and tell her I beg she will retire to the winter-garden, and not

come out of it in any case or for any noise."

The valet obeyed, and I girded on my sword again, put on my képi, and

went downstairs.

The porter had locked the entrance, but a loud muttering and battering

noise was heard from the outside.

"Open the door!" I said to the porter, and, sword in hand, I stepped out

What I beheld was the usual spectacle upon such occasions. A mob of all

classes; labourers in blouses, dandies in tall hats, college youths,

street boys, market women, and veiled "ladies" in flashy dresses and

with painted cheeks, all huddled pell-mell in picturesque disorder.

The man who was battering at the door was a gigantic locksmith, with

hammer in hand, and I believe that the only object he had in his

battering operations was to make use of his hammer. As I appeared, those

who were near the door, retreated a little, and some of them called out,

"See, see! An officer of the army."

"_Citoyens_!" said I, in a loud voice, "in this house there is a sick

woman, and whoever tries to break into this house will have his skull

split in two."

Most of the _gommeux_ retreated at these words, but the locksmith seemed

to think resistance a provocation to an attack. "Ho, ho!" said he,

beating his breast and swinging his hammer, inviting me to try the edge

of my sword on his skull, while around him sticks and umbrellas were

upraised against me with threatening gestures of all sorts of people,

male and female.

I had to make an end of this, and that was only possible by showing them

that I was not afraid of them, and, first of all, I had to silence that

burly smith by a smart cut on the hand that held the hammer. I had just

lifted my arm with the sword, when someone caught it from behind,

seizing tight hold of both hand and sword.

It was Flamma.

"What do you want here? Why did you come out?" I asked her.

She stepped close to my side, and addressed the people. I could never

have believed that that tiny, silent, shell-mouth of hers could be

capable of such eloquence. "_Citoyens_!" she said, with a perfectly

dramatic intonation and gesture, "you are mistaken in this house and in

us. We are no Germans, no enemies, but Hungarians, and friends to the

French. Look at my husband! He has just arrived from the battlefield,

where he has served the French army. He has repeatedly risked his own

life to save that of your brethren. Look at his forehead! That wound

upon it he received in the service of your country! Look at his breast!

It is decorated with the star of the Legion of Honour! He--"

I was furious. What business had this woman, who, in her heart of

hearts, despised me as an abject, greedy, dishonourable coward, a base

wretch, who had accepted the most degrading position on earth for a

money consideration--what business, said I, had she to speak fair of me

before this crowd?

"Madame," I shouted, "go into the house! I do not want your speeches!

Let go my hand, I say! I want to drive this rabble away!" But she clung

tightly to me, and, seeing that I could not free myself of her, I

caught her up in my arms, and carried her to her room. There I threw her

upon her couch and said--"Don't move from this bed. You are trifling

with your life!"

"Then stay here with me," she said, beseechingly; "don't go back among

them!"

"Nonsense, I am able to protect and save you from a drunken mob, but

from an attack of convulsions I could not save you! This might cost you

your life."

At this word I fancied I saw a smile of contempt on her lips, and it

occurred to me that she thought I feared for her life, because, in case

of her death, I should have to return her money. "I wish they would come

and tear me to pieces in her very presence," I thought, in the

bitterness of my heart; but, to my surprise, no one came. The next

minute or two furnished an explanation. I heard the sound of a bugle,

then the clatter of horse-hoofs; the Imperial Guard itself had cleared

the street of the mob. In a few minutes the shouts and threats were

silenced, and the crowd had moved on to other quarters. Immediately

afterward I heard voices in the _salon_, and, telling the woman to keep

quiet and not stir, I entered the _salon_.

A police officer was talking with the valet. I thanked him for ridding

me of my unpleasant visitors, who would undoubtedly have done harm to

the furniture of the house, if not to our persons.

"Oh, that is past," said he, "but there is something else amiss; and I

may tell you at once, sir, something that is very serious!"

"Serious to me?" I asked.

"Yes, the police have certain knowledge of the fact that you keep up a

cipher correspondence with somebody in Brussels. You have received a

letter a day or two ago."

"I know it. The letter had been opened by the police."

"Exactly. You have answered that letter, also in cipher, and the letter

was posted not quite an hour ago."

"And the contents of this letter are already in the hands of the

police?"

"Yes. Will you have the kindness to give me the key to the cipher?"

"Sir," said I, "you know well that every correspondence has secrets

which cannot be disclosed to a stranger!"

"I assure you that the Police Department is just as silent with respect

to the secrets that are entrusted to it, as the tongueless stone lions

on St. Mark's Square in Venice."

"And what will be the consequence if I refuse to give you the key?"

"If they offer to shoot me," I thought, "I will not tell."

"If you refuse, you will be conducted to the Belgian frontier without a

moment's delay."

"No, thank you," I thought; "I'll have none of that."

So I invited him into my room, and together we solved the contents of

both letters.

The first was that of the agent, the second was my answer, which

consisted of the following words:--

"The French will be victorious; invest my whole fortune, all the money

you hold of mine, in buying for a rise."

The tears rushed down the cheeks of the police officer. That a foreigner

had so much confidence in the French cause as to stake his whole fortune

on it was completely overpowering to him. He pressed my hands in silent

acknowledgment, when I could have laughed in his face, and was silently

applauding myself on the comedy I had played.

"It is all right, sir," said he, taking his leave; "but since you are a

true friend of the French, let me give you a bit of honest advice. Don't

stay in Paris beyond to-day at the utmost. To-day we command; to-morrow,

God knows who may fill our place. Go to-day, while you are free to go;

to-morrow it is possible that I shall follow your example."

I thanked him heartily, and gave him my passport for revision. In an

hour the passport was returned to me in proper order, and at daybreak we

were sitting in a railway carriage. My wife confessed that she felt very

happy in being able to leave Paris; she had been very uncomfortable and

ill at ease there.

XVI.

DAME FORTUNE.

It took us two whole days to reach Brussels. All the railway trains were

crowded with soldiers and refugees fleeing from Paris, and at every

station there was some delay. Special trains had to be waited for, and

at every town the passengers had to leave the carriage, show their

passports, answer all questions, and open all trunks and valises for

examination by the police.

For me this exasperating procedure was rendered more difficult still.

The wound on my forehead betrayed me for a soldier of some sort, and a

strict command of General Trochu expressly forbade soldiers to leave the

country. Of course, I had my discharge; but, when I showed the document,

it took them always a good while to consider which command of General

Trochu should be respected--the one which bade me go, or the other which

directed me to stay.

At the border I was detained for exactly four hours. Again my luggage

was searched; again I had to convince them that I was no runaway

soldier, no foreign spy, but a lawfully-discharged volunteer

camp-surgeon of foreign birth; and I had to give my word of honour that

the lady with me was really and legally my own wife.

When we finally arrived at Brussels, late at night, we could hardly find

a lodging. All the hotels were crowded to the doors, and only with

difficulty, and by the aid of a very liberal tip, was I enabled to

procure a back room on the third storey. I took my wife to the elevator,

to be carried to the room, gave orders for her supper, etc., and went

down to the café to drink a glass of hot punch.

The place was crowded to suffocation, in spite of the lateness of the

hour. Every newspaper was being read by five or six readers at once.

Something very important seemed to have happened, but the noise was so

deafening that it was utterly impossible to catch a word of the news.

I begged the waiter to let me have one of the papers.

"Never mind, sir," he said, smilingly; "these are all afternoon

editions. If you will wait till your punch is ready, I will manage to

get you a fresh paper moist from the press."

I rewarded his good offices with the expected money gratification, and

some minutes later the hot punch and a moist copy of the morning

_Indépendance_ were before me. The price of the copy was five francs.

As an experienced reader of Continental newspapers, I began my reading

on the last page, devoted to the telegrams. I found one from Arlon,

stating that MacMahon's position was very good. He was posted behind

fortifications, which were stored with provisions for three hundred

thousand men. Yesterday's engagement had ended in a triumph for the

French.

Another telegram came from Mézières, according to which yesterday's

battle had ended fatally for the French, who had been forced to the

Belgian frontier by the Prussians. The Emperor was with MacMahon. The

line of battle extended from Bazille to La Chapelle. Three thousand

French soldiers, with five hundred horses, had been driven across the

Belgian frontier, and had there surrendered.

A gentleman sitting near me, evidently a Frenchman, politely begged me

to show him the telegrams. "Oh," said he, "these are old ones, brought

over from the evening papers. Let us look at the front page," and,

turning the leaves, he pointed to a few lines printed in large letters,

"Sedan, September 2, 8 p.m. MacMahon's army has surrendered and laid

down its arms. MacMahon is severely wounded, and General Wimpffen has

taken command in his place. The capitulation was signed by him. Napoleon

has personally surrendered to the Prussian King."

The French gentleman had fallen from his chair in a swoon. He was

carried out into the fresh air to recover. This incident caused a

sensation in the room; everybody inquired for the cause of the swoon,

and I gave them the newspaper, which was eagerly devoured, until one

gentleman leaped upon a billiard-table and read the news aloud to all.

I went up to my wife. She had thrown herself on the bed, without

undressing, for, as we had only this single apartment for both of us,

she could not undress before the stranger who was--her husband. I begged

her pardon for disturbing her, but I thought she would be interested in

the important news. Of course she was! All the sleep was gone from her

eyes in a moment. She sprang from the bed and came to me. "See how kind

Providence has been!" she said. "If you had not been dismissed, you also

would be a prisoner now. So what seemed an evil has been converted into

a benefit."

At the first moment I felt inclined to share her views. For, indeed, it

would have been a ludicrous end to my little private tragedy if, instead

of the coveted death, I had experienced a few years of tedious inaction

at Mainz or some other German fortress.

So that, considered from this point of view, I had indeed had a

fortunate escape, and out of the fancied evil had come a certain good.

"But if evil may change into good," I thought, "I wonder who can repair

my marred and blackened life? Is there any Providence powerful enough to

convert this evil into a benefit?"

I gazed at Flamma, and wondered how she would look if I were to tell her

that her million had ceased to exist, that this catastrophe, which had

dragged a monarch from his throne into captivity, had also cost her her

sole fortune, the inheritance of her grandfather, and had thrown her

upon my mercy? "Good-night!" I said to her. "Try to sleep a little. I

will go and look for some private lodgings. We cannot stay in this

place." She thanked me, and, if I remember rightly, she extended her

hand to me; but I contrived to avoid taking it, and left her to her own

company.

I descended again to the café. Nobody was there except the staff of

waiters. Everybody else had gone to the Bourse, I learned. 'Change open

at four o'clock in the morning! is not that extraordinary? Certainly,

but so are the events which are occurring. The spacious halls and

corridors of the Exchange were brilliantly lighted all night long, and

were filled with a throng of brokers and "matadores." Curiosity took me

there also; but I had literally to fight my way in. My fists had to

procure admission for me. In the large hall this lighting for room was

general; and as for the noise and uproar of voices, the blockade of

Spicheren must have been a symphony in comparison.

I promised twenty francs to one of the servants of the establishment if

he would fetch me Mr. X., my broker, from the _coulisses_. I handed him

my card. It was an hour before the good man could emerge from the crowd.

His silk hat was crushed, his coat-collar torn off, the bow of his

necktie was dangling at the back of his neck, and his waistcoat had lost

four buttons; but he was radiant. As he caught sight of me, he ran to

meet me, shook my hands, embraced and kissed me, and fairly went into

ecstasies over me. Was this man mad?

"Sir!" he cried. "My friend! my hero! You are a sage, a prophet! At the

news of the catastrophe of Sedan a tremendous rise has set in on

'Change!"

"Rise!" I exclaimed, astonished.

"Certainly, and what a rise! If the French had simply been vanquished we

should have had a tremendous fall, but at the news of the surrender

values are rising enormously. You are a wonderful man! How you have

scented it all! Let me go back to make millions! Your money is all

invested for a rise. To-day we shall take lunch at Tortoni's at twelve

o'clock sharp. I shall bring you home eight millions. Let me go, or I

shall leave the lappet of my coat in your hands."

With that he ran back to the orgies around the golden calf. I let myself

go with a crowd that was thronging out--possibly the beaten

speculators--and was borne by the current into the street. I was

completely stunned at the results of my determined efforts to lose that

money, and felt for my head to make sure that I was not dreaming. Could

all this be true? Could ice be kindled into flames, and could flames

freeze to ice? How was I to believe that all my curses could be turned

into blessings, and that out of misfortune Fortune herself should arise?

By this time the morning had dawned, and I went into a café to get some

tea. With the tray a newspaper was laid before me, and, sure enough, I

read--"General rise! French values mounting and greatly in demand! Money

in abundance!"

So it was no dream.

Until noon I sauntered about in order to kill time. At precisely twelve

o'clock I was at Tortoni's, and found my broker already expecting me. He

had ordered lunch: Four dozen oysters, woodcock, artichokes,

giardinetto. Wines: Chablis, Chateau Lafitte, Grand Vin Mumm, etc.

"Wonderful victory!" said he, taking my hand. "_Écrasant_ defeat of the

_contremine_! Sir, Napoleon has capitulated before King William; I

capitulate before you. You know more of the psychology of the Money

Market than I!"

I to know the psychology of the Money Market? was not that excessively

absurd?

"It is easy to understand," he continued. "You are home from the French

camp. Evidently you have not gone there to plaster sores or set broken

bones, but to have an opportunity for watching the development of the

situation, and the movements of the forces. Oh if all 'matadores' would

only be as prudent! But this course requires pluck, courage, and perfect

coolness. You already knew that MacMahon was hemmed in, and that the

Emperor shared the same fate. It was easy to foresee the ensuing

surrender, and you made use of the means provided for your escape. You

gave me instructions; I have carried out your order, and here is the

result. Four millions are the prize of this one day."

"But how is it possible?" asked I.

"Pray don't try to play the simpleton before me. Of course, you had

calculated that, with the capitulation and the capture of the Emperor,

the war was at an end. The French have no organised armies left, and

are, therefore, compelled to make peace. The Stock Market anticipates

the conclusion of peace, and forces up French securities. What shall I

do with your eight millions?"

What? I hardly knew. Throw it into the ocean; it would come back to me,

like the ring of Polycrates. Nay, not like that, for it kept hatching,

and came back like a hen with a brood of chickens--that is, millions.

This odious money sticks to me like so many burs, and I cannot get rid

of it. Fortune is called a goddess. To me she was a "She-devil;" her

gold was choking me.

"Did you come from Paris alone?" asked the broker.

"No; my wife is with me."

"Have you found comfortable quarters to live in?"

"A back room on the third storey. I am looking for private lodgings."

"Well, I will tell you something. A banker, who was on the bear side,

offers his residence for sale, in order to pay his differences. His

house cost him four hundred thousand francs. We could get it for half

the amount, and you could move into it at once."

"Take it, by all means."

"But what shall I do with the balance of the money? This glass to the

new landlord!"

We clinked glasses. What a powerful agent money was! Only last night I

could not find a room to sleep in, and now I was practically the owner

of a palatial residence in Brussels. But what should I do with the rest,

the seven million eight hundred thousand francs?

"Speculate with the whole amount for a fall," said I to the agent,

determined that this time the hateful money should be lost for ever. Mr.

X. set down his glass and looked at me. "I beg pardon, sir, but--perhaps

you are not accustomed to spirits? The champagne was rather strong."

"Wine does not affect me. I am quite sober."

"Then, in all politeness, I would advise you to consult a specialist;

perhaps you are suffering from the mania of contradiction or some other

mental disease."

"This is my own affair. You do with my money as I instruct you. Put all

the money left, after paying for the house, on a bear speculation at one

week."

"Then, pray, give me permission to take out my percentage first; for in

this transaction I take no share. You have pulled out the devil's

forelock and shaved off his beard, but he won't give you his hoof and

tail also. Give me my percentage, and handle your money yourself."

"Your percentage you may take when you please, but with the rest do as I

tell you; speculate for a fall at the end of a week. I have no time to

go on 'Change, as I must be off to Paris."

"Paris? You are going back to Paris? Sir, your reason must be disturbed.

Why, revolution has broken out in Paris. Don't you know of it?"

"That's exactly the reason for my going. My wife has left her whole

wardrobe, her silver, jewellery, pictures, and tapestry in Paris, and I

am going to take everything away before it is destroyed."

"But, sir, this is foolish! Here are eight millions. Surely you can buy

a new wardrobe and jewellery for your wife with this money without

carrying your head to the guillotine."

"Will you allow me to judge of my own affairs?" said I, angrily. "I must

know best what I ought to do."

After that my man put the tip of his forefinger to his nose, and

exclaimed: "Oh, so!"

I looked at him with tight-shut lips, giving vent to a slight "H--m,

h--m!"

At that he raised his eyebrows, lifted his fat finger with a warning

gesture, and smiled mischievously; whereat I shrugged my shoulders, and

the mutual understanding was perfect. Of course, it was natural in the

owner of eight millions to have, besides his legal wife, another illegal

wife, or mistress; and as in case of danger an honest man's first duty

is to save his own wife, I had of course done so; but, like a real

gentleman, I was returning to the place of danger in order to save my

other wife as well.

That was the meaning of the mysterious winking and smiling and hemming,

and I did not think it worth my while to undeceive him. Let him believe

whatever he likes; what do I care for his opinion?

The same day I obtained possession of the house, and took my wife to it.

She was greatly astonished at its splendour, but ventured no remark. I

asked her if she had any money left out of the forty thousand francs,

and she answered that she had only spent half of it. That showed good

economy. Not to spend more than twenty thousand francs in three months

was the quintessence of thriftiness. I told her that the house was at

her disposal, and that she might arrange everything to please herself. I

was compelled to leave her on urgent business. She did not ask me what

business I had, nor where it would take me. Neither would she persuade

me to stay.

I reached Paris much sooner than I had expected. As soon as I had passed

the frontier I had donned my uniform again, and was very wise in doing

so. All those who had hindered me when leaving the country were now

very officious in assisting me to reach Paris. The sight of my uniform,

my wounded forehead, and the _légion d'honneur_ was enough to put them

entirely at my service. In Paris I was surprised at the change of the

appearance in the public streets. Over every porch, on every house, a

large tricolour flag was displayed; the military embraced and

fraternised with the people. I saw the Imperial Guard hacking at the

imperial eagle over the barrack-gate with their swords--the same swords

which they used two days before to drive off and disperse the mob at my

door.

My own residence had undergone a similar change. Like the caterpillar

which has developed into a gay butterfly, it had put on wings, and from

the balcony, above the porch, on all sides, great tricolours were

hanging, with the legend "_Vive la République_!"

So it was already a Republic, and only the other day it had been an

Empire. And all this had occurred without the shedding of a single drop

of blood, without the least disorder! It was just as though a handsome

widow should remarry the day after her husband's funeral. The new

Government was already established, and the satisfaction over this

performance was enough to sweeten the pang caused by the catastrophe of

Sedan.

In the streets no policeman, no detective could be seen. The National

Guard watched over the public order, and the foreigners, who, under

Palikao's reign, had been the victims of so many molestations, were left

in peace. Yes, large placards, in big red letters, invited all

foreigners who were true friends of liberty to enter the volunteer

corps, which was called into existence for defence against the tyrants.

It was enough to show some exotic trait of dress or appearance to be

literally embraced on the streets by fair ladies.

So it was in vain that I had come to this place to get rid of my head.

There was no guillotine, no barricade, not the slightest opportunity for

cheap martyrdom; and as for the volunteer legion, why, that was a

veritable life insurance corps.

I could not get myself killed. But my millions had another chance of

annihilation. The rise was lasting for days, and all Europe believed in

a restoration of peace.

On the sixth day, the limit I had given to my broker, appeared that

manifesto of the French Republican Government which proclaimed that the

war would be continued until all resources were exhausted. France would

never rest until she had driven her enemy from her soil.

This proclamation was a deathblow to all hopes of peace, and destroyed

all calculations and expectations. That a tremendous decline in values

was the consequence will be readily understood.

So my Hell-born millions had hatched again, and returned to me doubled.

Dame Fortuna insulted me! She was a demon--a Devil!

XVII.

LIGHT AT LAST.

At this I gave up that Quixotic fight against windmills, and said to my

own familiar spirit, my little inward devil--

"My dear little demon, I find you are a much more cunning little devil

than I thought you to be, and I shall begin to listen to your advice.

What the devil shall I kill myself for, when I have got sixteen million

francs of ready money? Is there any need of my final surrender to you as

yet? First, I'll see what services you'll do me still. The money I got

by following your suggestions, but the suicide speculation was a

failure. Evidently there are other devils more potent than you. Now let

me see. If I judge correctly, I can spare you altogether, dismiss you

with good references, such as, 'A fine little demon, very cunning, very

devoted and submissive.' It would be easy for you to find another

master, and I could well spare you. Why, with sixteen millions there is

no need of my being unhappy, and giving way to despair; with so much

ready money, I have Fortune at my command. She will come at my bidding.

If every husband in France who is not beloved by his wife were to enlist

against the Prussians, daring Death and Devil alike, the Prussians would

very soon find their way home again. And if she has insulted, betrayed

me with another man before she became my wife, I can revenge myself now,

and why not? When Father Adam quarrelled with Mother Eve, he found

consolation with Lilith, the dark-skinned Hashor, the almond-eyed

Anaitio, the silent Mylitta. So, my dear little demon, I can't see of

what use you can be to me any longer. I am tired of going death-hunting,

and not fool enough to play a game of shuttlecock with a lump of gold.

Then what's the use of my keeping you?"

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" laughed he. "Fancy your sending me off when you stand

most in need of me and my advice. My dear boy, you were never so much my

own as at this moment. You are tired of death-hunting? Very good; live

on, drink deep of the fountain of life, drain it to the dregs, and much

good may it do you! You have wealth and therefore power, and you will

become just such a dare-devil villain as the man who has caused all this

pother. You will betray innocent, confiding maidens, deceive loving

friends, ruin families, and beget unfortunate, ill-starred beings. You

will become a heartless libertine, a selfish sensualist. You will mock

at God, mock at the Devil; and when you are all alone, you will dread

and despise yourself. You will do evil for evil's sake, and rejoice at

the despair of your brethren. Oh, you can't spare me now, my boy; you

want me more than ever!"

I did not enter the Franc-tireur legion, although its captain was a

countryman of mine, a chivalrous Hungarian: if I am not mistaken, his

name was Varjassy. I returned to Brussels, and remained there.

My broker, Mr. X., came to me, quite submissive, doing penance in

sackcloth and ashes. Again he called me sage and prophet, and finally

asked me, "What next?"

"Nothing," I said. "We will not go near the Bourse again. We have made

our booty; don't let us run the risk of losing it."

"You are certainly wise!" he said, admiringly. He took his own

proportion, and bought property with it. The last time I had heard of

him he had established a great dairy and was manufacturing an excellent

cheese.

I had become a fashionable dandy. I was a member of the Jockey Club, was

seen at the theatres and at all fashionable places of public

entertainment. I opened my palatial residence to fashionable society,

and took my wife to all social amusements fitted to her station in life.

I took pride in the elegance of her toilette, and was jealously careful

that her equipage should outshine all others.

Still I cannot say that this constant, tender consideration and

attention to her affected her in my favour. On the contrary, I found

that of late her glance had a troubled, I may say, puzzled expression

when it rested on me; and when occasionally I entered her room

unexpectedly I saw that she hastily concealed in a drawer a small and

well-worn note-book. I supposed she was calculating what this expensive

rate of living might cost. If she only computed what I spent officially,

so to speak--that is to say, on herself and the household--she must have

made it some four hundred thousand francs. The income on her million of

florins would amount, at the utmost, to one hundred thousand francs, so

she must naturally have come to the conclusion that her securities were

scattered to the winds.

At that time the rosewood chest with the bonds, in exactly the same

condition as when she had given them to me on our wedding night, was in

my own possession again, and locked up in my safe. It had been my first

care to take it home from the banking-house where it had been deposited.

I had repaid the amount of the loan, received the securities, and found

them all in excellent order.

By this time the period of Flamma's confinement had arrived, and a son

was born. I had made her a proposition to postpone the christening for a

month, and only then to give our aristocratic family connections at home

information of the happy event. She consented, and by the time the

christening took place she had fully recovered her health and beauty,

or, rather, she had become more beautiful than ever; for, from a girlish

maiden, she had developed into a blooming woman.

The little boy we christened William James. He was a well-formed,

healthy child, and I myself had conscientiously selected a nurse for

him.

When at last no harm was to be feared from excitement, and Flamma's

health was fully established, I wrote her a line that I should like to

have some conversation with her on money matters that afternoon. She

wrote me in reply that I had anticipated her own wishes, and that she

would be ready to receive me.

At the appointed time I carried the rosewood chest with her dowry to her

room. I found her engaged with the same worn-looking note-book that I

had already noticed, but this time she did not hide it upon my entrance.

She offered me a seat, but I set the chest on the table in front of her,

and, looking her in the face, I said--

"Madame, to-day it is seven months since that eventful evening on which

you made me certain confidential disclosures. At that time I did not

make any remark on the subject, because the state of your health was

such that, in my capacity as a physician, conscientious scruples

prohibited me from creating in you any excitement which might prove

fatal to yourself and to another being. You will not refuse to bear

witness that I have paid you all the care and attention which your

condition required, and that I have done everything that was possible,

under the circumstances, to save you from emotions which might be

injurious. I have nursed you conscientiously, and omitted nothing which

I thought necessary to your health and that of your child. But now your

health is fully established, your child is christened, and I have given

him an honourable name and a good nurse, which is all that he requires

for the present. Now the time has come when I may express my real

sentiments to you. I shall even now forbear to reproach you. In this

whole baneful connection between us the fault has been mine alone. It

was my boundless vanity, my absurd conceit, which led me to believe that

a beautiful, wealthy, and high-born young lady would choose me, of all

men, for her husband, without any secret motive or hidden reason to

prompt her. I ought to have known my own worthlessness better, and not

yielded to a flattering self-conceit. You see, I acknowledge my fault

fully, and I own that I have deserved my punishment. I have no

accusation against you. You were desperate; you had to save your

reputation, and you did not stop to consider what it might cost me so

long as it served your purpose. Of course, the pride and honour of

Countess Vernöczy were of much higher importance than the life, the

honour, of an insignificant fool like myself. Move over, you paid for the

services you had procured with admirable magnanimity. You placed your

whole dowry at my disposal. But now your honour and reputation are

saved; so is that of your child. There is no need of my suffering longer

for a fault for which I have bitterly atoned. Now, pray, let me restore

to you the money which you placed in my hands on that memorable night.

Let me beg you to take slate and pencil, and convince yourself of the

entire correctness of the amount."

She looked at me as if mesmerised, and mechanically she obeyed me. I

opened the chest, took out the papers, and, as she had done on the night

of our wedding, I dictated to her the titles of the various deeds and

securities, and she wrote as I dictated.

The amount was correct. "You see that the coupons are inside," I said;

"those of last year and those of this year also. Not one has been

touched."

"And our household expenses?" asked she, breathlessly.

"Were liquidated by me with my own money. Now, pray, take the property

out of my hands, for this is the last time that we shall ever speak with

or behold each other as long as we live." She gazed up at me, trembling

in every nerve. I continued--

"I shall leave you to-day, and you will never learn whither I have gone

or where I am. Like the criminal escaping from jail, I shall change my

name, and deny the term which I have served at your side. I shall

possess no name, no home, no family. I shall be a stranger and an

outcast, wandering to and fro for fear that the acquisition of a settled

residence might betray my abode to you. And now, there are three roads

open to you. You may return with your child to the old home of the

Dumanys, my poor Slav kingdom. There you may live, secluded from the

world, bringing up your child and teaching him virtue, honesty, and

useful employments. You may dole out alms to the poor, and in this

mournful solitude pray to God for happy oblivion or the still happier

news of my death. This is one of the roads open to you; it is the stony

path of virtue, dreary and tiresome. The second path is the flowery one.

You may throw yourself upon the waves of life, drink deep of the cup of

pleasure, not troubling yourself with scruples as to what is allowed and

what forbidden. Your youth, beauty, and wealth will carry you up to the

pinnacle of pleasure--only beware of the consequences! I, the husband,

shall be separated from you by whole oceans perhaps, and shall not be

here to legitimatise the result of a _faux pas_. There is still a third

way--a divorce; and I authorise you to commence your suit. Only, you

know, this way is tedious, and requires great sacrifices. Monetary

sacrifices also, for we cannot get a divorce without being converted to

Protestantism, and in that case, according to your grandfather's will,

you are obliged to give up your dowry--this million. But you have also

to give up the Church and the religion in which you were born and

brought up, and which has given you consolation in despair, and the

saints whom you are accustomed to invoke to your aid. Still, the road is

open to you, and I will give you four hours to make your decision. If it

should be for a divorce, I am ready to go with you to Transylvania to

procure a divorce under the Unitarian laws."

As I finished she rose from her seat, her cheeks aglow, her eyes

burning. "I know a fourth way," she said, catching her breath.

"And that is?"

"I will not let you go!" she cried, taking hold of my arm with both

hands, and clinging to me with her trembling body.

I broke out into a bitter, scornful laugh. "Countess," said I, "do you

believe that there is in the world an interest, a sentiment, a spirit of

magnanimity or of cowardice, which is powerful enough to hold me in jail

now that the time for which I have sentenced myself has expired? That

there is any power existing which could tie me to your side, if but for

another day? Well, I have read the hate, the contempt, the scorn in your

eyes, and you were justly entitled to those feelings; but you cannot

wish me to endure these daily pangs and lacerations of my wounded

self-esteem for ever. You cannot ask of me to live on at the side of a

woman who hates me, despises me, and scorns me, simply because it would

suit that woman to retain her present position. No, my lady! Even my

ample stock of weak foolish indulgence is at an end. I go, and I go for

ever! Not even in Paradise do I wish to meet you again. And if you go to

salvation, I shall go to perdition to avoid you!"

The effect of my cruel, insulting words were marvellous. They did not

seem to hurt or offend her; she seemed to delight in them, drink them in

like some sweet, delicious nectar. Her face, her eyes, her attitude

spoke of exultant admiration, of triumphant joy, of ecstatic delight.

"True!" she said, "it is all true that you have said. Only what I have

felt for you was never hate; it was love warring against contempt, and

contempt fighting against love. Yes, I have despised you; for I was

told, and I believed it, that money was all that you cared for, and your

own words have confirmed me in this opinion. Do you remember, after you

had told Cenni and me the story of your friend, you spoke of the

qualities of the girl whom you might marry? She must be young and

beautiful, and wealthy and luxurious. Young and beautiful--I thought--to

suit your vanity; wealthy and luxurious--because you loved wealth and

luxury; and your conduct after our marriage hourly convinced me of the

correctness of the supposition. You accepted your position without a

murmur. I was burning with shame and humiliation, ready at a word to

fall at your feet, and make you a confession which would cleanse me from

the burning stigma, remove from me the brand of shame. But you accepted

the money, and asked no questions, and I left you in despairing

contempt. Our married life was much too luxurious to undeceive me, and I

believed that you were making use of my money to feed your appetite for

pleasure. When you protected me against danger, nursed me in my odious

condition, I thought, 'All is well to him as long as he can keep the

money. He fears for my life, because, in case of my death, he would have

to restore the money.' The comfort, the splendour, the costly presents,

dresses, and jewels which you bestowed upon me were so many accusations

against yourself. And yet how I longed to be able to respect you! When

the newspapers spoke of your undaunted courage, of your disinterested

and indefatigable activity, your self-denial, generosity, and discreet

modesty, how my heart yearned for you! How my soul cried out to you,

'Why are you not the same to me as to the world? Why are you brave,

generous, disinterested, and self-denying to them, and not to me? Why am

I, of all persons alive, condemned to know you for a cowardly,

avaricious, and selfish man, when, in spite of all that, my heart burns

for love of you?' And now you have thrown off the hideous mask you wore,

have shown me your real face, shown me how much I have misjudged you,

how I have sinned against you! You give me back that money untouched.

You have not even spent the interest of it, and now I see how I have

wronged you in accusing you of greed. All your tender care, your

delicate attention, your patient indulgence were given to me out of your

magnanimous sense of duty, the heavenly generosity of your soul! And now

that I know you in all the glory of your goodness, now that I have found

my ideal in you and my love has grown into worship, now you tell me

that you are lost to me for ever, that you will not be mine, and I must

choose the paths you point out to me. No, sir; that is impossible! You

cannot cast me off, now that I love you! I have sinned against you,

caused you insufferable pains, infinite tortures; but my whole life

shall be given to atone for those sins by meek submission, dutiful

obedience, ardent love. I cannot choose between those paths you have

shown me. I do not want to be consumed by the fires of sinful love, nor

to freeze in the ice of solitude and self-abnegation. I want to be

happy, and to make you happy. I want to love, and I do love you!"

"You have a child."

"That child! That living stigma which was branded into my flesh by a

miserable assassin! I hate it so much that I will never kiss it, never

pray for it. Its very sight is loathsome to me! I have given birth to

it, but shall never love it as a mother!"

After this tempest of her emotions she threw herself against the door,

barring it against me as though to say: "The way through this door, the

way that separates you from me, leads over my body."

I looked at her, and the sight of her deep and real agitation summoned

me to a silent condemnation of my base hypocrisy. What was I but a

cunning dissembler, coming here to play a great part before her, making

believe that I had not touched her money, when I had time and again

risked it in speculations? And the very house she lived in, the comfort

and splendour that surrounded her, were the result of the profits her

money had acquired. How dared I make a parade of my generosity, when all

the time I had been scheming for her ruin and dreaming of revenge? Truth

and sincerity were all on her side; the halo of virtue around my head

was false.

And she loved me! She confessed that love with the frank truthfulness of

her nature--confessed it in words that sent a thrill of delight through

my whole frame! And I, who am burning for love of her, I stand here like

a pagan idol, in stony indifference, looking down at the bleeding heart

which is held up as a sacrifice to me. No, I am no stone! Avaunt,

Hathor, Mylitta, Baaltis, I am none of yours! And thou too, vile,

wretched Dissimulation, I cast thee forth! Depart from the presence of

this true woman!

I went to her and took her hands. "If your boy is not to have the love

of a mother, he shall have that of a father instead. I shall love him

dearly and be a true father to him."

As I said this, she broke into passionate sobbing, and, crouching down

at my feet, she threw her arms around my knees and wept bitterly.

"No," said she, "do not lift me up, for my confessions are not yet

ended. I have asked you for mercy heretofore. I now ask you for justice;

for a righteous judgment! I have never been the degraded wretch you

believed me to be, have never been the mistress of another man, never

listened to his words of love, so help me God! Siegfried was not my

betrayer, he was my assassin! He made use of Diodora's and Cenni's

absence from the house, at a time when a slight illness had prevented

me from accompanying them, to drug my wine at the table, and during the

lethargy caused by the soporific potion he slew my soul! Devil as he is,

he took a devilish revenge, because I had shown him my contempt and

abhorrence."

Before this I was down on my knees, covering her eyes, her hair, her

face, and her mouth with my kisses; weeping in the excess of my love and

happiness. "Why did you not tell me this before? Why not on the night of

our wedding?" I asked.

"I intended to! Do you remember that I asked you if you had no other

question to address to me? You said 'No,' and pointed to the door. For a

few moments only your eye had rested with a fiery glare on a two-edged

dagger which lay upon the table. If you had carried out the wild

promptings of your wrath, if your hand had raised the dagger against me,

if only a single word or action had given me proof that you were the man

I wished you to be, and not the wretch who accepts the money which is

offered in return for his name and honour, I should have spoken. Oh, how

I have longed to do it!"

I pressed her to my heart and kissed her again. "You are innocent," I

said: "as innocent as that poor child himself. You have not sinned;

others have sinned against you. And now that you have confessed to me,

let me also confess to you, and, if you can, forgive me!" I told her

all--my evil designs, the monetary speculations, my suicidal purposes,

my moral cowardice. She listened, shuddering, but, when I had finished,

she nestled close to my heart and kissed me passionately. She had

forgiven.

* * * * *

After this we decided to leave Europe and go to the New World--to

America. My old Slav kingdom I did not care to keep; it was best to give

up everything, and wipe out all memory of myself. So I left it to be

sold in payment of the debts I had accumulated. In the New World fortune

clung to me with the same persistence. Whatever I undertook was sure to

succeed, and all my enterprises were fortunate. So, in course of time, I

became the "Silver King." We came to Europe on account of little James,

who all at once ceased speaking and became a mute. We tried American

physicians, but to no purpose, and so we came to Europe in order to

consult the best professional talent. Now you know all. You know how it

was possible for the little son of a South American nabob, after

regaining his lost speech, to speak Hungarian, and you know who taught

him to speak that language. The child has never loved anyone but me, and

no one has loved him but myself. And I love him truly and with all my

heart. For to him I am indebted for all my present happiness; not only

for my wealth, for wealth alone is not happiness. A man may be happy

without wealth, and be very unhappy with it; but I owe him this.

He took a photograph from his pocket-book, and showed it to me--four

laughing little cherub heads, peeping out of a bath-tub, like birds from

the nest. "These my little James has brought me," he said, with tears of

joy in his eyes; "if he had not come, these would not have come either.

So, you see, my dear friend, I was thrown into Hell and fell into

Paradise."

* * * * *

"I beg your pardon," said I to Mr. Dumany, as he finished his story,

"but I am curious to know what became of Siegfried? Would you mind

telling me?"

"Oh, he is a very famous man at present, and fills a very honourable

position. He is engaged as horse-tamer in the Paris Hippodrome, and they

say that he is excellent in 'jumping.' I have not seen him yet, but I

hear he has a good salary, and is a general favourite. He is very much

praised and admired by those who have seen him. I think it highly

creditable in a man when he lives honourably by means of his ability and

talent."

By this time the dawn had greeted us. Through the chinks of the closed

shutters the rising sun was stealing, decorating the wall-tapestry with

rings of golden red, adding radiant circles to the smoke-wreaths of our

cigarettes, and sending long glittering darts into all the corners and

behind the curtains.

Presently, breaking the monotony of our voices, which punch and cognac

had made hoarse, a sweet, silvery voice chimed in, "Apácska! Apácska!"

("Papa! Papa!") and a little unfledged cherub was peeping out from the

bed-curtains. "You may come to me," said Mr. Dumany, smilingly, and, in

an instant, little James was out of bed, and, barefooted, in his little

nightgown as he was, he ran to his father, shouting with glee, climbing

up into his lap, and throwing his little arms caressingly around his

neck, laughing mischievously the while. At the noise of this babbling

and laughter, similar sounds were heard in the next room, just as in a

bird's nest when one little fledgeling chirps all the rest join in,

lifting the little heads and trying the winglets.

"Reveille is sounded," said my friend, with a happy smile. "I have to go

and muster my troops; this next chamber is their bedroom."

But the muster was postponed, for the commander-in-chief arrived--the

mother. She was in a plain, dark dress, but her beautiful face bore a

soft expression of happiness which I had not seen the day before. "You

are up yet?" she asked.

"And you are up already?" asked her husband.

"Yes. I have been out to my confessor's. You have made a clean breast to

your friend at home; I have done the same in the confessional, and I

have come home much happier than I went, and I truly hope much better."

With that she bent down to the child, and kissed it tenderly.

"I have been an unnatural and undutiful mother," she said, in a low,

trembling voice, "and if you, in your generous pity, in the overflowing

kindness of your nature, had not taken this poor innocent to your heart,

it would not have known the tender love, the sweet care of a parent.

Father Augustin has shown me the great, black sin in my breast. How can

I hope for mercy from Heaven if I mercilessly lock my heart against my

own innocent offspring? How can I hope for love and respect from my

other children, if I withhold a mother's love from this one? Oh, my

dearest husband! here in the presence of your friend, whom you have made

cognisant of our past sorrows and trials, I thank you from the bottom of

my heart for the love you have borne my child!" And before he could

prevent the action she had bent down and pressed her lips to his hand.

"Flamma! dearest!" he said, overcome by his emotion, "you have been the

truest, the most considerate, most loving, and most dutiful of all wives

and mothers; but this day you have filled my cup of happiness to the

brim. This one drop, the mother's kiss to the sweet innocent, was

wanting. This day shall henceforth be kept as a high holiday, as this

little darling's real birthday, for it has given him a mother."

He held up the boy to her, and at the sweet, inviting smile and the

opened arms the little one threw open his arms also; one of them he drew

around his mother's, the other around his father's neck, and then he

showered a volley of kisses and caresses on both. Never in all my life

have I seen a picture more lovely and beautiful than this.

"Come, my little one," said the mother, after a while, to the child, "it

is too early yet for you to rise. Come to your little brothers and

sisters and sleep awhile longer," and, nodding sweetly to us, she

disappeared, with the child on her arm, through the tapestry _portière_

that led to the children's bedroom.

The "Silver King" silently pressed my hand as I said--

"Sir, you are the happiest man on earth, nor can all the crowned

monarchs of the world compare to you in wealth!"

"Yes," he said, after a while, "I am very happy. But I owe you an

explanation, before I take leave of you. You may think it singular that

a man who is the father of a family should disclose such intimate

secrets to a friend of whom he knows beforehand that he will make public

use of the disclosure, and relate to his readers the events he has

learned. But, you see, so much has already been said about my wife and

me--the fantastic imagination of one half of our fellow-creatures has

invented so much to feed the idle curiosity of the other half, that the

plain truth will serve in general as a cooling sedative. There are

different versions afloat as to how we got our money. Some say that I

was a general spy of the Prussians, and that my money was a fee for the

information furnished, or, in plain words, the betrayal of the positions

of the French forces. Others say that my wife had been the mistress of a

King, and was enriched by him, and that she still draws a life-pension

from the Civil List; while superstitious fools will have it that I have

sold myself to the Devil, and am supplied by him with infernal lore.

Against all of these the disclosure of the plain truth will be the best

defence. Human I am and have been, and human have been the temptations

and trials that have beset me. The only Devil to whom, for a time, I

sold myself, was the demon in my own breast--a poor, feeble spirit, and

long ago subdued by the more potent angel of love and peace."

THE END.

* * * * * * *

Transcriber's Note:

The following typographical errors in the original text have

been corrected.

In Part I, Chapter V, "religous monomania" has been changed to

"religious monomania".

In Part I, Chapter VIII, "Yes, I wan you immediately" has been

changed to "Yes, I want you immediately".

In Part I, Chapter XIII, "photograpers" has been changed to

"photographers".

In Part II, Chapter IV, "siezed" has been changed to "seized".

In Part II, Chapter X, a missing quotation mark has been added

to the sentence,

Upon the steel blade was graven, in golden letters, "_Buona

notte_; and "_Buona notte! buona notte_," I kept incoherently

murmuring.

In Part II, Chapter XII, "distinguised" has been changed to

"distinguished".

In Part II, Chapter XV, an extra "are" has been deleted from

"you are are mistaken in this house".

In Part II, Chapter XVII, "Moveover" has been changed to

"Moreover".

In Part II, Chapter XVII, "infernal ore" has been changed to

"infernal lore".