The War being now practically at an end and Austria-Hungary
irrevocably broken up, I am able to recount an adventure, in which
I was involved, that occurred at Buda-Pesth in the second week of
August, 1914.
Seated at a café on the famous Franz-Josef Quai, I was sipping coffee,
after an excellent lunch, with Frederick, whose surname I will not
mention in case I get into trouble for relating the incident before
Peace is actually signed. The sun shone joyously down upon the
kaleidoscope of gaily dressed people promenading by the cool waters
of the Danube, and we sat engrossed--I in the charm of the scene, and
Frederick in that of individual beauties who passed to and fro.
Suddenly I noticed that he was staring intently upon the ground a few
yards in front of him. I asked him what was the matter.
"Perceive," he replied in a very serious tone, "a small beetle of the
order of Coleoptera making its way across the pavement?"
"I do perceive it," I replied; "but what about it?"
"Does it not occur to you," he continued, "that it is a very
remarkable thing that that beetle should have already travelled six
feet across the most crowded promenade in Buda-Pesth without having
been trodden on?"
Being used to Frederick I do not take him too seriously and made no
reply, intending to brush the incident aside, but I found my gaze
continually returning to Coleopteron, conscious of that peculiar
fascination which attracts one to impending tragedy. It was evident
that he had just left the café and was hurrying across the promenade
to catch the little steamer which was due to leave in ten minutes for
Ofen. It was also evident to any thinking individual that there must
be some extraordinarily urgent reason for his wishing to catch the
boat which justified him in taking the awful risks which he was
incurring. The position was full of human interest and I became as
intrigued as Frederick.
It seemed that Coleopteron was under some divine protection which
enabled him to elude so large a crowd. One lady stepped right on him,
but apparently, by a piece of brilliant footwork, he managed to get
in the arch between the sole and the heel and so survive. Another
promenader brushed him with his boot and knocked him over, but he
doggedly continued on his way.
I was conscious of a greatly accelerated beating of my heart and
noticed that Frederick was perspiring freely.
Half-way across the twenty-foot pavement Coleopteron was sniffed at
by a dog and our hearts stopped beating, but again he was saved by
the fact that the dog was on a chain and just hadn't time to eat him
before he was dragged after his mistress.
I noticed now that Frederick's eyes were protruding from his head and
that he was muttering to himself. I too felt the strain telling upon
me, A shrill whistle from the little steamer warning passengers to
hurry up was immediately responded to by Coleopteron, who increased
his speed to the utmost, when suddenly Frederick's trembling hand
caught mine.
"Look!" he said, and, following his gaze, I saw approaching twelve
gendarmes. We did not speak; we did not need to invite each other's
views; our minds had but a single thought--Coleopteron could not
possibly escape twenty-four Hungarian Government boots.
On scurried our little friend and on came the gendarmes. I was
conscious of a feeling of physical sickness, and Frederick groaned
aloud. As the dreadful moment of contact approached we shut our eyes
tight and each gripped the other's hand. How long we remained like
this I cannot tell, for we were both afraid to look and see the my
smudge on the pavement indicating a hero's end; but eventually, by
mutual arrangement, we opened our eyes, and then we saw--not a smudge,
but Coleopteron still advancing quite unconcerned. It was a miracle.
"I can't stand it any longer," cried Frederick, to the amazement
of those sitting about us outside the café, "I shall go mad!" and,
leaping up from his seat, he rushed across the promenade and, taking
from his pocket a picture-postcard of some Hungarian beauty, he coaxed
Coleopteron to walk on to it, then bore him triumphantly back and
deposited him upon the leaf of a palm which overhung our table.
Shortly afterwards the little steamer whistled again and left the
quay.
Frederick remained silent for some time as befits a man who has saved
a life, and then arose to have a look at Coleopteron and doubtless
to make himself better known to the little hero; but to his pained
surprise Coleopteron was not to be found. All over that palm he
searched in vain and on the floor; then suddenly he emitted a gurgling
sound and I saw that he was in the grip of deep emotion. There was a
look on his face I had never seen before, and I anxiously asked him
what had happened. For some time he could not speak, but stood gazing
vacantly into space. At last, with parched lips, he spoke.
"Look in the milk-jug!" he said, and sank into his chair.
For a moment I thought that Frederick had been poisoned, and then I
realised the truth, for there in the hot milk floated the corpse of
Coleopteron.
"Why did he do it?" pleaded Frederick with a break in his voice.
"Because," I replied, "you hadn't the sense to realise that he was
staking his all on catching that boat, and, instead of helping him,
you brought him back to where he started from."
* * * * *
Early the next morning, at Frederick's desire, we left Buda-Pesth _en
route_ for the Swiss Frontier. It was impossible, if he was to retain
his reason, to stay longer in a city that had for him such tragic
associations.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE PEACE QUEUE.