THE HOSTAGE.
One evening two horsemen dressed as Turks rode into the courtyard of the
fortress of Szamosujvar, and demanded an audience of the noble Dano
Solymosi, the commandant. A soldier conducted to him the two Moslems,
one of whom seemed to be a man advanced in years, whose sunburnt face
was covered with scars; the other was a youth, whose face was half
hidden in the folds of a large mantle, only his dark eyes were visible.
"Good evening, captain," said the elder Turk, greeting the commandant,
who at the first moment recognised the intruder and joyfully hastened
towards him and grasped his hand.
"So God has brought Kucsuk Pasha to my humble dwelling."
"Then thou dost recognise me, worthy old man?" said Kucsuk, just
touching the hand of the worthy old Magyar.
"How could I help it, my good sir? Thou didst free my only daughter from
the hands of the filthy Tartars, thou didst deliver her from grievous
captivity, thou didst give her a place of refuge, food, and pleasant
words in a foreign land. I should not be a man if I were to forget
thee."
"Well, for all these things I have come hither to beg something of
thee."
"Command me! My life and goods are at thy service."
"Dost thou not detain here the family of Paul Beldi?"
"Yes, sir; they brought the unfortunate creatures hither."
"I must have Paul Beldi's consort out of this prison for a fortnight, at
the accomplishment of which time I will bring her back again."
The captain was thunderstruck.
"Sir," said he, "you are playing with my head."
"None will know, and in two weeks' time she will be here again."
"But if they discover it?"
"Have no fear of that. During that time I will leave in thy hands as a
hostage my own son."
The young cavalier approached, threw back his mantle, and the captain
recognised Feriz Beg. He fancied he was dreaming.
"Dost thou not suppose that I will bring back the woman for the sake of
my son?"
"Do what you think well," said the commandant. "I owe you a life, I will
now pay it back to you; follow me!"
The commandant led his visitors up a narrow corkscrew fortress into the
corner tower, which was used as a dungeon for state prisoners. The
circular windows were guarded by heavy iron bars, the heavy iron-plated
oaken doors groaned upon their hinges, indicating thereby that they were
very seldom opened.
"Why did you put them in this lonely place?" asked Kucsuk Pasha; "is
there not some other prison in the town?"
"Don't blame me, sir; my orders were to lock the lady up securely, apart
from her child, and in this tower are two adjacent chambers with a
common window, and in one of them I have put the mother and in the other
the child. I knew that they would not mind if they could speak to each
other through the window, and press each other's hands, and even kiss
each other through the bars."
"Thou art a true man, my good old fellow," said Kucsuk Pasha, patting
the commandant's shoulder; while Feriz Beg warmly pressed his hand.
"Thou wouldst put me into just such another dungeon, eh?" he asked.
"There would be no need of that, good Feriz Beg; you should dwell in my
apartments."
"But I would not have it so," said the youth, thinking with glowing
cheeks of the fair Aranka who would thus be his next-door neighbour and
fellow-prisoner.
At last the iron door of the prison was opened, the jailor remained
outside, and the two Osmanlis entered. By the side of a rude oak table
was sitting a lady in deep mourning in front of the narrow window,
reading aloud from a large Bible with silver clasps; her children at the
window of the other dungeon were listening devoutly to the Word of God.
When the men entered the woman started and looked up; the dim ray of
light coming through the narrow window made her face appear still paler
than it used to be; she looked up seriously, sadly--sorrow had lent a
gentle gravity to the face that used to be so bright and gay.
Kucsuk Pasha approached, and taking the lady's soft transparent hand in
his own, briefly introduced himself.
"I am Kucsuk Pasha, thy husband's most faithful friend in this world
after thyself."
"I thank you for your visit; my husband has often mentioned your name.
Do you perchance bring me any message from him?"
"He would have thee with him."
"Then I am free?" cried the lady, tremulous between joy and doubt.
"Rejoice not, lady; it is not in my power to give thee freedom, I only
promise thee a brief interview with Paul Beldi, just time enough for
thee to tell him how much thou hast suffered. He cannot come to thee, so
thou must come to him. With me thou canst come most quickly, for the
greatest part of the time we shall be travelling together."
"Will my children come with me?"
"They will remain here. But thou wilt see them again soon. Either thou
wilt conquer Paul Beldi with thy tears, and melt his iron will, and then
he will come back to Transylvania as Prince and every gate will be open
before him; or else he will stand fast to his determination, and then
thou wilt return to thy dungeon and he to his, and so you will both die
in the dungeons of different realms. Now take leave of thy children and
hasten. It depends upon thee whether they become princes and princesses
or slaves for ever."
"And who will defend them, who will watch over them, who will pray with
them while I am away?"
"Be not distressed. I will leave my own son here as a hostage while thou
art away. Feriz will occupy thy dungeon, he will watch over thy
children, and not let them be afraid. Hasten now and take leave of
them."
Dame Beldi rushed to the round window. Loudly sobbing, she called her
children one by one, and then embraced them all as best she could. The
cold iron bars stood between her breast and theirs. The tears of their
weeping faces could not dissolve them.
"Give this kiss to father!--And this kiss from me!--And this from me!"
lisped the children, putting their little arms round their mother's neck
through the bars.
"My child, my good Aranka!" said Dame Beldi to the girl, who being about
fifteen or sixteen was the eldest of them all; "look after thy little
brothers and sisters! And you, my good little lads, comfort Aranka. God
bless you! God defend you! One more kiss, Aranka! And one more for you,
little David?"
"Madame, time is passing, and Paul Beldi is waiting for thee to open his
prison!" intervened Kucsuk Pasha, withdrawing Dame Beldi from the
window of her children's prison, who thereupon turned her tear-stained
face towards Feriz Beg, and in a passion of grief flung herself on the
youth's neck, and said to him in a voice almost indistinguishable for
her sobbing:
"Thou noble heart! promise me that thou wilt love my children when I am
far away!"
"By Allah, I swear it!" exclaimed the youth, pressing to his bosom the
poor woman who was half-fainting for sorrow, "I swear that I will love
them for ever!"
Ah! there was one among them whom he had already loved for a long, long
time.
"Hasten, lady!" urged the Pasha; "cast this mantle over thee, and place
this turban on thy head that the guards may not recognise thee in the
distance. The way is long, the time is short."
"God be with you, God be with you!" sobbed Dame Beldi, casting with
tremulous hands hundreds of kisses towards her children, who waved their
goodbyes to her from their window and then, violently repressing her
emotion, she rushed from the dungeon.
Kucsuk Pasha pressed the hand of his son in silence, and left him in
Dame Beldi's room.
The children kept on weeping behind their window.
The youth drew nearer to them.
"Weep not," he said cheerfully, "your mother will soon come again and
bring your father with her, and then you will all rejoice together."
"Ah, but then they'll kill father!" sobbed one of the children timidly.
"So long as Feriz Beg can use his sword none shall touch Paul Beldi,"
cried the youth, with flashing eyes. "My sword and my father's will
flash around him, his enemies will be my enemies. Fear not! when I get
back my sword, I will win back his liberty with it."
"I thank you, I thank you," whispered a gentle voice overcome by
emotion.
Feriz Beg recognised the silvery voice of Aranka, and the weeping blue
eyes of the seraph face which regarded him, like Heaven after rain,
flashed upon him a burning ray of gratitude which was to haunt him in
his dreams and in his memory for ever.
Feriz felt his heart leap with a great joy. Pressing close up to the
prison bars that he might get as close to the girl as possible he said
to her with a tender voice:
"How happy I am now that we dwell together as neighbours in the same
dungeon, but oh, how much happier shall we be when no doors are closed
upon us? Let me then have a place beside thy hearth and within thy
heart!"
The fair, sad girl, with a face full of foreboding, stretched through
the bars of the dungeon a hand whiter than a lily, whiter than snow.
Feriz Beg solemnly raised it to his lips and falling on his knees, in an
outburst of sublime devotion touched his lips and his forehead with that
beloved hand.