The 31st of August dawned at last, and with the promise of a lovely
autumnal day. It was the one holiday of the year at Herr Oppovich's: for
Sunday was only externally observed in deference to the feelings of the
Christian world, and clerks sat at their desks inside, and within the
barred shutters the whole work of life went on as though a week-day.
As for us in the yard, it was our day of most rigorous discipline; for
Iguaz himself was wont to come down on a tour of inspection, and his
quick glances were sure to detect at once the slightest irregularity or
neglect. He seldom noticed me on these occasions. A word addressed to
Hanserl as to how the “younker” was doing, would be all the recognition
vouchsafed me, or, at most, a short nod of the head would convey that
he had seen me. Hanserl's reports were, however, always favorable; and I
had so far good reason to believe that my master was content with me.
From Hans, who had talked of nothing but this fête for three or four
weeks, I had learned that a beautiful villa which Herr Ignaz owned on
the west side of the bay was always opened. It was considered much too
grand a place to live in, being of princely proportions and splendidly
furnished; indeed, it had come into Herr Oppovich's possession on a
mortgage, and the thought of using it as a residence never occurred to
him. To have kept the grounds alone in order would have cost a moderate
fortune; and as there was no natural supply of water on the spot, a
steam-pump was kept in constant use to direct streams in different
directions. This, which its former owner freely paid for, was an outlay
that Herr Oppovich regarded as most wasteful, and reduced at once to the
very narrowest limits consistent with the life of the plants and
shrubs around. The ornamental fountains were, of course, left unfed;
_jets-d'eau_ ceased to play; and the various tanks in which water-nymphs
of white marble disported, were dried up; ivy and the wild vine draping
the statues, and hiding the sculptured urns in leafy embrace.
Of the rare plants and flowers, hundreds, of course, died; indeed,
none but those of hardy nature could survive this stinted aliment.
Greenhouses and conservatories, too, fell into disrepair and neglect;
but such was the marvellous wealth of vegetation that, fast as walls
would crumble and architraves give way, foliage and blossom would spread
over the rain, and the rare plants within, mingling with the stronger
vegetation without, would form a tangled mass of leafy beauty of
surpassing loveliness; and thus the rarest orchids were seen stretching
their delicate tendrils over forest-trees, and the cactus and the mimosa
mingled with common field-flowers. If I linger amongst these things, it
is because they contrasted so strikingly to me with the trim propriety
and fastidious neatness of the Malibran Villa, where no leaf littered
a walk, nor a single tarnished blossom was suffered to remain on its
stalk. Yet was the Abazzia Villa a thousand times more beautiful. In
the one, the uppermost thought was the endless care and skill of the
gardeners, and the wealth that had provided them. The clink of gold
seemed to rise from the crushed gravel as you walked; the fountains
glittered with gold; the conservatories exhaled it. Here, however,
it seemed as though Nature, rich in her own unbounded resources, was
showing how little she needed of man or his appliances. It was the
very exuberance of growth on every side; and all this backed by a bold
mountain lofty as an Alp, and washed by a sea in front, and that sea the
blue Adriatic.
I had often heard of the thrift and parsimony of Herr Oppovich's
household. Even in the humble eating-house I frequented, sneers at its
economies were frequent. No trace of such a saving spirit displayed
itself on this occasion. Not merely were guests largely and freely
invited, but carriages were stationed at appointed spots to convey them
to the villa, and a number of boats awaited at the mole for those who
preferred to go by water. This latter mode of conveyance was adopted by
the clerks and officials of the house, as savoring less of pretension;
and so was it that just as the morning was ripening into warmth, I
found myself one of a large company in a wide eight-oared boat, calmly
skimming along towards Abazzia. By some accident I got separated from
Hanserl; and when I waved my hand to him to join me, he delayed
to return my salutation, for, as he said afterwards, I was _gar
schon_,--quite fine,--and he did not recognize me.
It was true I had dressed myself in the velvet jacket and vest I had
worn on the night of our own fête, and wore my velvet cap, without,
however, the heron feather, any more than I put on any of my trinkets,
or even my watch.
This studied simplicity on my part was not rewarded as I hoped for;
since, scarcely were we under way, than my dress and “get-up” became the
subject of an animated debate among my companions, who discussed me with
a freedom and a candor that showed they regarded me simply as a sort of
lay figure for the display of so much drapery.
“That's how they dress in the yard,” cried one; “and we who have three
times the pay, can scarcely afford broadcloth. Will any one explain that
to me?”
“There must be rare perquisites down there,” chimed in another; “for
they say that the old dwarf Hanserl has laid by two thousand gulden.”
“They tell _me_ five thousand,” said another.
“Two or twenty-two would make no difference. No fellow on his pay could
honestly do more than keep life in his body, not to speak of wearing
velvet like the younker there.”
A short digression now intervened, one of the party having suggested
that in England velvet was the cheapest wear known, that all the
laborers on canals and railroads wore it from economy, and that,
in fact, it was the badge of a very humble condition. The assertion
encountered some disbelief, and it was ultimately suggested to refer the
matter to me for decision, this being the first evidence they had given
of their recognition of me as a sentient being.
“What would _he_ know?” broke in an elderly clerk; “he must have come
away from England a mere child, seeing how he speaks German now.”
“Or if he did know, is it likely he'd tell?” observed another.
“At all events, let us ask him what it costs. I say, Knabe, come here
and let us see your fine clothes; we are all proud of having so grand a
colleague.”
“You might show your pride, then, more suitably than by insulting him,”
said I, with perfect calm.
Had I discharged a loaded pistol in the midst of them, the dismay and
astonishment could not have been greater.
That any one “aus dem Hof”--“out of the yard”--should presume to think
he had feelings that could be outraged, seemed a degree of arrogance
beyond belief, and my word “insult” was repeated from mouth to mouth
with amazement.
“Come here, Knabe,” said the cashier, in a voice of blended gentleness
and command,-- “come here, and let us talk to you.”
I arose and made my way from the bow to the stern of the boat. Short as
the distance was, it gave me time to bethink me that I must repress
all anger or irritation if I desired to keep my secret; so that when I
reached my place, my mind was made up.
“Silk-velvet as I live!” said one who passed his hand along my sleeve as
I went.
“No one wishes to offend you, youngster,” said the cashier to me, as he
placed me beside him; “nor when we talk freely to each other, as is our
wont, are any of us offended.”
“But you forget, sir,” said I, “that I have no share in these freedoms,
and that were I to attempt them, you'd resent the liberty pretty soon.”
“The Knabe is right,” “He says what's true,” “He speaks sensibly,” were
muttered all around.
“You have been well educated, I suspect?” said the cashier, in a
gentle voice; and now the thought that by a word--a mere word--I might
compromise myself beyond recall flashed across me, and I answered, “I
have learned some things.”
“One of which was caution,” broke in another; and a roar of laughter
welcomed his joke.
Many a severer sarcasm would not have cut so deeply into me. The
imputation of a reserve based on cunning was too much for my temper,
and in a moment I forgot all prudence, And hotly said, “If I am such
an object of interest to you, gentlemen, that you must know even the
details of my education, the only way I see to satisfy this curiosity of
yours is to say that, if you will question me as to what I know And what
I do not, I will do my best to answer you.”
“That's a challenge,” cried one; “he thinks we are too illiterate to
examine him.”
“We see that you speak German fluently,” said the cashier; “do you know
French?”
I nodded assent
“And Italian and English?”
“Yes; English is my native language.”
“What about Greek and Latin, boy?”
“Very little Greek; some half-dozen Latin authors.”
“Any Hebrew?” chimed in one, with a smile of half mockery.
“Not a syllable.”
“That's a pity, for you could have chatted with Herr Ignaz in it.”
“Or the Fraulein,” muttered another. “She knows no Hebrew,” “She does;
she reads it well,” “Nothing of the kind,” were quickly spoken from many
quarters; and a very hot discussion ensued, in which the Fraulein
Sara's accomplishments and acquirements took the place of mine in public
interest.
While the debate went on with no small warmth on either side,--for it
involved a personal question that stimulated each of the combatants;
namely, the amount of intimacy they enjoyed in the family and household
of their master: a point on which they seemed to feel the most acute
sensibility,--while this, therefore, continued, the cashier patted me
good-humoredly on the arm, and asked me how I liked Fiume; if I had made
any pleasant acquaintances; and how I usually passed my evenings? And
while thus chatting pleasantly, we glided into the little bay of the
villa, and landed.
As boat after boat came alongside the jetty, numbers rushed down to meet
and welcome their friends. All seemed half wild with delight; and the
adventures they had had on the road, the loveliness of the villa, and
the courtesy they had been met with, resounded on every side. All had
friends, eager to talk or to listen,--all but myself. I alone had no
companionship; for in the crowd and confusion I could not find Hanserl,
and to ask after him was but to risk the danger of an impertinence.
I sat myself down on a rustic bench at last, thinking that if I remained
fixed in one spot I might have the best chance to discover him. And now
I could mark the strange company, which, of every age, and almost of
every condition, appeared to be present. If the marked features of the
Hebrew abounded, there were types of the race that I had never
seen before: fair-haired and olive-eyed, with a certain softness of
expression, united with great decision about the mouth and chin. The
red Jew, too, was there: the fierce-eyed, dark-browed, hollow-cheeked
fellow, of piercing acute-ness in expression, and an almost reckless
look of purpose about him. There was greed, craft, determination, at
times even violence, to be read in the faces; but never weakness, never
imbecility; and so striking was this that the Christian physiognomy
seemed actually vulgar when contrasted with those faces so full of
vigorous meaning and concentration.
Nothing could be less like my father's guests than these people. It was
not in dress and demeanor and general carriage that they differed,--in
their gestures as they met, in their briefest greetings,--but the whole
character of their habite, as expressed by their faces, seemed so unlike
that I could not imagine any clew to their several ranks, and how this
one was higher or greater than that. All the nationalities of Eastern
Europe were there,--Hungarian, Styrian, Dalmatian, and Albanian. Traders
all: this one bond of traffic and gain blending into a sort of family
races and creeds the most discordant, and types whose forefathers had
been warring with each other for centuries. Plenty of coarseness there
was, unculture and roughness everywhere; but, strangely enough, little
vulgarity and no weakness, no deficient energy anywhere. They were the
warriors of commerce; and they brought to the battle of trade resolution
and boldness and persistence and daring not a whit inferior to what
their ancestors had carried into personal conflict.