The veterinary and his gig jolted merrily over the puszta. His good
little horse knew its lesson by heart, and needed neither whip nor
bridle. So, the doctor could take out his note-book, reckon, and
scribble. All at once, looking up, he noticed a csikos approaching, his
horse galloping wildly.
The pace was so mad that both rider and steed seemed to be out of their
minds. Suddenly the horse rushed towards him, stood still, reared, and
then swerved aside, taking another direction. Its rider sat with head
thrown back, and arched body, clutching the bridle in both hands, while
the horse shook itself, and began to neigh and snort in a frightened
manner.
Seeing this, the doctor seized whip and reins, and made every endeavour
to overtake the horseman. As he got closer he recognised the csikos.
"Sandor Decsi!" he exclaimed. And the rider appeared to know him also,
and to slacken the bridle as if to allow the horse to go nearer. The
clever animal reached the doctor's gig, puffing and blowing, and there
stopped of its own accord. It shook its head, snorted, and, in fact, did
everything but speak.
The lad sat in the saddle, bent backwards, his face staring at the sky.
The bridle had dropped from his fingers, but his legs still gripped the
sides of his horse.
"Sandor, lad! Sandor Decsi!" called the doctor. But the boy seemed not
to hear him, or hearing, to be incapable of speech.
Jumping from his trap, the doctor went up to the rider, caught him round
the waist, and lifted him out of the saddle.
"What ails you?" he said.
But the lad was silent. His mouth was shut, his neck bent back, and his
breath came in quick gasps. His eyes, wide open, had a ghastly gleam,
which the dilation of the pupils rendered all the more hideous.
Laying him flat on the turf, the doctor began to examine him. "Pulse
irregular, sometimes quick, sometimes stopping completely, pupils widely
dilated, jaws tightly closed, back curved. This young fellow has been
_poisoned_!" he cried, "and with some vegetable poison, too."
The doctor had found the csikos midway between the Hortobagy inn and the
little settlement at Mata. Probably he was on his way to the hamlet when
the poison first began to act, and had tried as long as consciousness
lasted to get there; but when the spasms seized him, his movements
became involuntary, and the convulsive twitching of his arms had
startled the horse. It was also foaming at the mouth.
The doctor next attempted to lift him into the gig, but the lad was too
heavy, and he could not manage it. Still, to leave him on the puszta was
impossible. Before he could return with help the eagles would already be
there, tearing at the unfortunate man. All this time the horse looked on
intelligently, as if it would speak, and, now bending its head over its
master, it gave some short abrupt snorts.
"Well, help me then," said the doctor.
Why should he not understand, a puszta steed, who has three-quarters of
a soul at least? Seeing the doctor struggling with his master, it caught
hold of his waistcoat with his teeth, and raised him, and so between
them, they managed to get the csikos into the gig. Then the doctor
knotted the horse's halter to the back of the trap, and galloped on to
the settlement.
There, it is true, were hospital and pharmacy, but only for animals. The
doctor himself was but a cattle doctor. In such cases, however, he may
help who can. The question was, could he?
The first thing to do was to discover what poison was at work,
strychnine or belladonna. At all events, black coffee could do no harm.
Arrived at the farm, the doctor called out his assistant and his
housekeeper. Coffee was ready, but aid was necessary before the patient
could swallow. His jaws were so tightly locked that they had to force
his teeth apart with a chisel before it could be poured down.
"Ice on his head, a mustard plaster on his stomach," ordered the doctor;
and there being no spare person at hand, he carried out his own
directions, at the same time giving instructions to his assistant, and
writing a letter at the table. "Listen," he said, "and think of what I
am telling you. Hurry in the gig to the Hortobagy inn, and hand this
letter to the innkeeper. If he is not at home, then tell the coachman my
orders are to put the horses in the caleche, and go as fast as he
possibly can to town, and give this sealed letter to the head doctor
there. He must wait and bring him back. I am a veterinary surgeon, and
on oath not to practise on beasts 'with souls.' The case needs help
urgently, and the doctor will bring his own medicine. But ask the
innkeeper's daughter for every grain of coffee she may have in the
house, for that the patient must drink until the real doctor comes. Now,
see how sharp you can be!"
The assistant understood the task imposed on him, and made all haste to
get under way. The poor little grey had hardly had breathing time
before it was rattling back to the inn.
Klari happened to be on the verandah, watering her musk-geraniums, when
the gig drove up.
"What brings you, Pesta," she asked, "in such a fearful hurry?"
"A letter for the master."
"Well, it will be difficult to get a word out of him, because he is just
putting a new swarm into the hive."
"But it is an order from the vet," said Pesta, "to send the carriage to
town immediately for the best doctor."
"The doctor? Is someone ill? Who has the ague now?"
"None of us, for the doctor picked him up on the meadow. It is Sandor
Decsi, the csikos."
The girl gave a cry, and the watering-can fell from her hands. "Sandor?
Sandor is ill?"
"So ill that he is trying to climb up the wall, and bite the bed-clothes
in his agony. Somebody has poisoned him."
The girl had to clutch the door with both hands to prevent herself
falling.
"Our doctor is not sure what is killing the herdsman, so he is obliged
to summon the town doctor to inspect him."
Then Klari muttered something, but what could not be heard.
"See, leave go the door, miss," said the assistant, "and let me in to
look for the master."
"Doesn't he know what has hurt him?" stammered the girl.
"And the doctor's message to you," added Pesta, "is to collect all the
ground coffee in the house, and give it to me. Till the other doctor
comes with medicine, he is treating Sandor Decsi with coffee, for he
can't tell what poison they gave the poor fellow." Then he hurried off
to search for the innkeeper.
"He can't tell what poison," murmured Klari to herself, "but I can--if
that be the danger, why I could tell the doctor, and then he would at
once know what to give him."
She ran into her room, and opening the chest took from its bottom, the
man-shaped witch roots. These she stuffed into her pocket.
Cursed be she who had given the evil counsel, and cursed be she who had
followed it!
Then she set to work grinding coffee, so that by the time the assistant
returned from the garden, where he had been forced to help with the
swarm, the tin box was quite full.
"Now give me the coffee, miss," said he.
"I am coming with you."
The assistant was a sharp lad and saw through the sieve. "Do not come,
miss," he said, "you really must not see Sandor Decsi in such a state.
It is enough to freeze one's marrow to look at his agony. Besides, the
doctor would never allow it."
"It is just the doctor I want to speak to," said the girl.
"But then who will attend to the customers?"
"The servant-girl is here, and the lad, they'll manage."
"But at least ask the master's permission," begged Pesta.
"Not I!" cried Klari, "he would not let me go. There, get out of the
way."
So saying, she pushed the assistant aside, flew out into the courtyard,
and with one bound was seated in the gig. There she seized the reins,
flourished the whip about the poor grey's back, and drove where she
wished. The assistant left behind gasping, shouted after her,
"Miss Klari! Miss Klari! Stop a bit!" But though he ran till he was
breathless, he only caught the gig at the bridge, where the tired horse
had to go slowly up the incline. Then he too jumped on to the seat.
Never had the grey's back felt such thwacks as on this drive to Mata! By
the time they reached the sandy ground, it could only go at a walk, and,
the girl, impatient, sprang from the gig, and catching hold of the
canister, rushed over the clover field to the doctor's farm, which she
reached panting and speechless.
Through the window the doctor saw her coming and went to meet her,
barring her way at the verandah.
"You come here, Klarika! How is that?"
"Sandor?" gasped the girl.
"Sandor is ill."
Through the open door the girl could hear the groans of the sick man.
"What has happened to him?"
"I don't know myself, and I don't want to accuse anyone."
"But I know!" cried the girl, "someone--a wicked girl--gave him
something bad to drink. I know who it was too! She stirred it into his
wine, to make him love her, and that made him ill. I know who it was,
and how it was."
"Miss Klari, do not play the traitor. This is a serious crime, and must
be proved."
"Here are the proofs."
And with that girl took the roots out of her pocket, and laid them
before the doctor.
"Oh!" cried the doctor, stupefied, "why, this is _Atropa mandragora_--a
deadly poison!"
The girl clapped her hands to her face, "How did I know it was poison?"
she asked.
"Klarika," said the doctor, "do not startle me more or I shall jump out
of the window. Surely _you_ did not poison Sandor?"
The girl nodded mutely.
"And what in thunder did you do it for?"
"He was so unkind to me, and once a gypsy woman made me believe that if
I steeped that root in his wine I should have him at my feet again."
"Well, I never! . . . You must hold traffic with gypsy women, must you?
To school you won't go, where the master would teach you to distinguish
poisonous plants. No, no, you will only learn from a gypsy vagabond!
Well, you have made your lad nice and obedient!"
"Will he die?" asked the girl with an imploring look.
"Die? Must he die next? No, his body and soul are not stitched together
in such a ramshackle fashion."
"Then he will live!" cried the girl, and knelt down before the doctor,
snatching his hands, and kissing them repeatedly.
"Don't kiss my hand," said he, "it is all over mustard plaster, and
will make your mouth swell."
So she kissed his feet, and when he forbade that, also his footprints.
Down on the brick floor she went and kissed the muddy footprints with
her pretty, rosy lips.
"Now, stand up and talk sense," said the doctor. "Have you brought the
coffee? ground and roasted? Right--for that is what he must drink till
the doctor comes. It is well you told me what poison the lad took, for
now I know the antidote. But as for you, child, make up your mind to
vanish from these parts as soon as you like, for what you have done is a
crime, which the town doctor will report, and the matter will come
before the court and judge. So fly away, where there are no tongues to
tell on you."
"I won't fly," said the girl, drying her tears with her apron. "Here is
my neck, more I can't offer. If I have done wrong, it is only just that
I should suffer for it, but from this spot I won't stir! The groaning I
hear through the door binds me faster than if my feet were in fetters.
Doctor! sir! for God's sake let me be near to nurse him, to foment his
head, smooth his pillows, and wipe the sweat from his brow."
"Indeed! Is that your idea? Why, they would clap me into the madhouse,
if I entrusted the nursing of the victim to the poisoner."
A look of unspeakable pain came over the girl's face.
"Does the doctor believe that I am really bad then?" she asked. Glancing
round she caught sight of the damnatory root lying on the window-sill,
and before he could stop her, had grasped it, and was putting it into
her mouth.
"No, no, Klarika," said the doctor, "do not play with that poison. Don't
bite it, take it out of your mouth instantly. I would rather allow you
to go to the patient, though it is no sight for you, as I tell you
beforehand. No tender-hearted person should see such suffering."
"I know; your assistant told me everything. How one cannot recognise
him, his face is so changed. Dark blotches instead of healthy red
colour, death-like shadow on his forehead, and cold perspiration
shining on his cheeks. His eyes are wide open with a glassy stare, his
lips seem gummed together, and if he opens them they foam. How he
groans, struggles, gnashes his teeth, tosses his arms about, and
contorts his back! An agonising sight! But let this be my punishment, to
feel his moans and sufferings, like so many sharp knives stabbing my
heart. And if I do not actually witness them with my own eyes and ears,
I shall still seem to see and hear them as acutely as if I was really
present."
"Well," said the doctor, "let us see if you are really brave enough.
Take charge of the coffee-pot, and have black coffee always ready; but
if you burst out crying I will push you out of the room."
Then he opened the door and allowed her to enter.
The world went blue and green to the girl as her eyes fell on her
sweetheart lying there. Where was the radiant young fellow who had left
her such a short time ago? Now it was painful to look at him, to endure
the sight of him.
The doctor called in his assistant, and the girl stifled her sobs as
best she might, over the coffee-pot. If the doctor caught the sound of
one he would glance at her reproachfully, and she would pretend it was a
cough.
The two men applied mustard plasters to the patient's feet.
"Now bring your coffee and pour it into his mouth," said the doctor.
But that was a business! Both had to exert their full strength to hold
down the lad's arms, and prevent his flinging them about.
"Now, Klarika, open his mouth; not like that! You must force his teeth
apart with the chisel. Don't be afraid, he won't swallow it. See, he
holds it as fast as a vice."
The girl obeyed.
"Now pour in the coffee by the spout, gently. There you are a clever
girl. I can recommend you to the Sisters of Mercy as a sick nurse!"
There was a smile on the girl's face, but her heart was breaking.
"If only he would not look at me with those eyes!"
"Yes," said the doctor, "that is the worst of all, those two staring
eyes. I think so too."
At length there seemed some little improvement, possibly the effect of
the remedy. The patient's groans became less frequent, and the cramp in
his limbs relaxed, but his forehead burned like fire. The doctor
instructed the girl how to wring out the cold water bandage--lay it on
the aching head, leave it a little, and then change it again. She did
all that he bade her.
"Now I see that you have a brave heart," he said, and in time came her
reward, for to her joy the sufferer suddenly closed his eyelids, and the
terrible stare of those black-shadowed eyes ceased altogether. Later his
mouth relaxed and they were able to open the close-shut jaws without
difficulty.
Maybe it was the prompt application of the antidote; maybe the dose of
poison had not been strong, but by the time the doctor from town had
arrived, the patient was very unmistakably better. The veterinary and
the doctor conversed in Latin, which the girl could not understand, but
her instinct told her that it was of her they were speaking. Then the
doctor ordered this and that, and after writing the _usum repertum_,
returned to his carriage, and hastened back to town.
Not so the gendarme whom he had brought with him on the box. He
remained. Hardly had the physician gone, when another trap rumbled into
the yard. This was the Hortobagy innkeeper, who had come to demand his
daughter.
"Gently now, master," they said, "the young woman is under arrest. Don't
you see the gendarme?"
"I always did say that when once a girl loses her head she goes mad
altogether. Well, it's no concern of mine." And with charming
indifference the old innkeeper thereupon turned and drove back to the
Hortobagy inn.