MASTER STEPHEN'S PAGE.
Libor, as already remarked, had never had the least intention of leaving
Master Peter's house so soon after his arrival as he had threatened to
do, if he could by any possibility avoid doing so.
The fact was he had a little business of his own on hand, as anyone
observant might have found out from his air of mystery, and the fact
that, if he was on his way to Pest, he had had to come so far out of it,
that Master Stephen would certainly have employed another messenger had
Libor not particularly desired to come.
Master Peter was not very observant, but even he wondered in himself
once or twice what the fellow wanted, and came to the conclusion that
his new dignity had turned his head.
Dora wondered a little also, and felt that the young man had been
impertinent, not only in his remarks, but in the way in which he had
followed her about with his eyes throughout the interview.
He was not a person of much consequence, however, and both father and
daughter quickly dismissed him from their thoughts.
And here, by way of explaining matters, we must mention that many years
ago, when Dora was quite a tiny child, it had been settled between her
father and Héderváry the Palatine, that she should marry the latter's
son Paul. Héderváry was Master Peter's oldest and closest friend, one to
whom he was much attached; and Dora, though no heiress, was a daughter
of one of the proudest and noblest houses in Hungary. The match was
considered perfectly suitable, therefore, and the Hédervárys were much
attached to their "little daughter," as they constantly called her. Paul
himself admired and liked the bride chosen for him quite as much as was
necessary, and it is needless to say that Dora's father thought him
extremely fortunate in having a girl so sweet, so clever, so
well-educated, so good-looking, so altogether charming, for his wife.
Dora herself no one thought of consulting. As a good, dutiful daughter,
she would, of course, accept without question the husband approved by
her father; and there was no denying that Paul was calculated to win any
girl's admiration, for he was an imposing, gallant-looking personage,
and accomplished withal. They would certainly make a handsome, even a
striking pair.
Every time Paul came to stay he found Dora more attractive; and though
he had never in any way alluded to his hopes, of which she was quite
ignorant, he could not help feeling that she was the very bride he would
choose, or rather, would have chosen for himself, but for one
unfortunate defect--her small dowry! It was a very serious defect in his
eyes, though his parents thought little of it, for he was ambitious. His
great desire was to make a fine figure in the eyes of the world, to be
admired, courted, looked up to; and though the Hédervárys were wealthy,
more wealth never comes amiss to those who wish to shine in society.
Was it any wonder therefore that Paul should presently begin to reflect
that Dora's cousin Jolánta would suit him better than herself? Not that
he liked her as well, for, though a pretty, gentle girl, she had not
much character, and she was not nearly so clever and amusing; but she
was an heiress, a considerable heiress, and Paul was convinced that he
liked her quite well enough to make her his wife.
Dora was now nearly eighteen, and very soon he would be expected to ask
her father's consent to their marriage. To Dora herself he would of
course not say a word until he had her father's leave.
He was in a most difficult position, poor fellow! He was fond of Dora;
and he was fond of his parents, who would be greatly vexed if he
disappointed them in this matter. It was a serious thing to vex one's
parents, especially when they had it in their power to disinherit one!
His father was a generous, hot-tempered soldier; he would warmly resent
any insult put upon his old friend's daughter; Master Peter might resent
it too, though no word had yet passed between himself and his intended
son-in-law. Truly a difficult position! But for all that, he meant to
please himself, if he could safely do so.
Paul was turning these things over in his mind, and was pitying himself
and racking his brains to discover some way by which his parents might
be induced to take a reasonable view of things, when it occurred to him
that two heads were better than one.
He was staying just now with the Szirmays at their castle, where he was
always made much of, and Master Stephen was constantly arranging hunting
parties and other country amusements in his honour.
Somehow, he never quite knew how it was, he found himself, during a
moment of leisure, near the room occupied by one of the pages; and just
for the sake of talking to somebody he went in, and was received with
obsequious delight by Libor, who murmured his thanks for the great
honour done him by the visit of so high and mighty a gentleman.
The little room was of the plainest description, and not too light, but
the unglazed windows were at least filled in with bladder-skin, and the
bare walls were painted white; the furniture consisted of a small open
stove of earthenware, a roughly-made, unpainted bedstead, a primitive
wooden table, and two or three stools. It was bare enough for a monk's
cell, and it was unceiled, open to the roof, which appeared to consist
of old boards and lattice-work of a rough description.
Libor was attired in a pair of red trousers, rather the worse for wear,
and fastened round his waist by a leather strap, a waistcoat of the same
colour, and a coarse shirt with wide, hanging sleeves. He was wearing
neither coat nor jacket, and he had a slender reed pen stuck behind his
ear. There were writing materials and a book or two on the table, and
the page was busy with his pen, when, to his immense surprise, there
entered the haughty young noble, a tall handsome personage clad in a
"dolmány" of bright blue woollen stuff which reached down to his ankles,
and was not unlike a close-fitting dressing-gown.
Libor started to his feet, and bowed almost to the ground as he
expressed his sense of the great man's condescension, while he wondered
in his own mind to what it was due, and what was wanted of
him--something, he felt pretty confident, and he was quite ready to
serve such an one as Paul, who would be sure to make it worth his while.
But what could it be?
After a little beating about the bush, and a little judicious flattery,
which drew forth many humble thanks for his good opinion from Libor,
coupled with an expression of his hope that Mr. Héderváry would find
that opinion justified if ever he should need his services, Paul at once
proceeded to business.
Some men would have been disgusted to see a fellow-man, bowing, bending,
and cringeing before them, as Libor was doing, but to Paul it was merely
natural, and it pleased him, as showing that the clerk had a proper
respect for his "betters."
"I am going to tell you something, clerk, which I have not told to
another soul," began Paul, and Libor bowed again and felt as if he were
on hot coals.
"You have guessed, I daresay, that I don't come here merely to pay an
ordinary visit?"
Libor said nothing, judging it more prudent not to mention any surmises
if he had them.
"Well, the fact is that I am here this time by desire of my parents to
ask the hand of Master Peter's daughter."
Libor smiled.
"Yes, Libor, _deák_, but--well, I have the deepest respect for my
parents, and I would not willingly cross their wishes, but for all that,
I am of age, I am four-and-twenty, and such matters as this I should
prefer to manage in my own way."
"Most natural, sir, I am sure," said Libor, with another deep bow;
"marriage is an affair which--which----"
"Which needs careful deliberation, you mean; just so! And the more I
consider and weigh matters, the more I feel that it is Master Stephen's
daughter Jolánta who is the one for me."
"A most charming young lady! and I quite understand Mr. Héderváry's
choice; and, if I might hazard the remark, I would suggest, with all
possible deference, that the fair Mistress Dora is not nearly as well
provided for as Mr. Stephen's daughter; though her father has a quantity
of gold and silver plate, his property is not large, and he cannot give
her much."
"Say 'nothing,' Libor, and you will be nearer the mark! I know it, and I
am glad to see you don't try to hide anything from me. Well, of course,
property never comes amiss even to the wealthiest, and 'if the master
provides dinner, it is well for the mistress to provide supper,' as they
say. But I had rather take Jolánta empty-handed than Dora with all the
wealth of the world. I like property, I don't deny it, who does not? But
I don't care a straw for Dora, and I do for Jolánta."
"Ah, then of course that settles it! But suppose Master Peter should
have suspected your intentions?"
"There is just the rub! He is an old friend of my father's, and I should
be sorry to hurt him; but I have made up my mind to ask for Jolánta."
"H-m, h-m," murmured the page thoughtfully. "Rather an awkward state of
things, sir."
"Of course it is! but look you here, Libor, if you can help me out of
it, I will make it worth your while. I know how modest and unselfish you
are, but I shall be able to find you something, something which will set
you up for life."
Libor's eyes sparkled. This was even more than he had looked for.
But Paul was growing rather impatient; this long interview with a person
so far beneath him was distasteful to him, and he cut short the page's
servile protestations of devotion and gratitude. What was to be done?
that was the question.
"First make sure of Mistress Jolánta herself, before anything was said
to her father," suggested Libor, "and then finish his visit and take his
leave without proposing for either. Visits were not always bound to end
with a proposal, and Master Peter could not possibly be hurt therefore.
As for Mr. Stephen, when the time should come to ask his consent, he
would certainly not refuse such a son-in-law as the son of the Palatine.
Mr. Héderváry's parents"--Libor hesitated a little--"they could not
blame him if--suppose--disappointed they might be, but they could not
blame him--if he were able to say that Dora had another suitor, and one
whom she preferred to himself, though Master Peter was not aware of the
fact."
"H-m!" said Paul, "that would settle it, of course; but--there is none."
"No, there is not," said the clerk thoughtfully, with one of his
deferential laughs, "but--we might find or invent someone."
"Find someone! Who is there?"
"Well, let us see--if--if we can invent no one else, there is myself!"
"You!" cried Paul, with evident and intense disgust, "you! But how? in
what way?" and he broke into a laugh.
"That is my affair, sir; and if you have confidence in me----"
"Hush! I hear footsteps. Not another word now, I will contrive to see
you again privately before I go from here. Just one thing more. I wonder
whether you would undertake to do me a small service without telling the
Mr. Szirmays, and without leaving this house."
"What am I to understand, sir?" asked the page, with marked attention.
And Paul explained that if he succeeded in arranging matters with
Mistress Jolánta, he should want someone on whom he could depend, to
keep him informed of all that went on in the house, in case, for
instance, Master Stephen should be thinking of another match for his
daughter, and--in fact, there might be many things which he ought to
know; and then if he came again himself during the winter, he should
want someone to see that he had comfortable quarters prepared for him on
the road, and so on.
Libor was only too delighted to serve such a magnificent gentleman, a
gentleman who was so open-handed and so condescending moreover, and the
bargain was struck. Paul handed the page a well filled purse, telling
him to keep a fourth part of the contents for himself, and to use the
remainder to cover any expenses to which he might be put in sending
messengers, etc.
"And look you here, Libor, from to-day you are in my service,
remember--one of my honourable pages; and if ever you should wish to try
your fortune elsewhere, there will be a place ready for you in my
establishment."
Libor bowed himself to the ground as he answered, "With heart and soul,
sir."
Meantime the footsteps had drawn nearer, and a tap at the door put a
stop to the conversation.
"The gentlemen are waiting, sir," said the governor, or seneschal, of
the castle, a dignified-looking man clad in a black gown, and wearing at
his girdle a huge bunch of keys; for the governor of such a castle as
that of the Szirmays, was keeper, steward, seneschal, as well as captain
of the men-at-arms.
"In a moment," replied Paul, and as soon as the old man's back was
turned, he whispered hurriedly, "If anyone should happen to ask what I
came to your room for, you can say that I wanted a letter written."
Paul stayed yet a few days longer, and was so well entertained with
hunting, horse-races, foot-races, feats of arms, and banquets that he
could hardly tear himself away from the cordial hospitality of his
hosts. He and Libor met but once again in private; but when he was gone
Libor held his head higher than he had ever done before. Up to this time
he had been the least well off of the pages, and had been deferential to
his companions, but now all this was changed. To the Szirmays, on the
other hand, and especially to Master Peter, he was more deferential,
more attentive, than ever before.
Weeks, months passed, and if Master Peter was somewhat surprised that
his old friend's son had not yet declared himself, he was much too proud
to show it. And he was far too proud also to show how much hurt he was
when he presently learnt that Paul was a suitor for the hand of his
niece, and had been accepted by her father and herself.
Master Peter was deeply hurt indeed, and he felt too that his brother
had not behaved well to him, knowing, as he did, the arrangement between
himself and his friend.
Stephen also felt guilty; and the end of it was, that, though the
brothers were sincerely attached to one another, and though no word on
the subject passed between them, both felt a sort of constraint. The old
happy intercourse was impossible; and for this reason Master Peter came
reluctantly to the conclusion that he should be wiser to set up a home
of his own again, and leave his brother in possession of the
family-dwelling.
Paul had had considerable trouble with his parents, however. They would
not hear a word in depreciation of Dora, and at the first insinuation of
anything to her actual discredit, Héderváry had flown into a rage,
denounced it as idle, shameless gossip, and declared hotly that Paul
ought to be ashamed of himself for giving a moment's heed to such lying
rumours.
When Paul went a step further and obstinately asserted his belief that
Dora was carrying on a secret flirtation with Libor the page, the old
warrior's fury was great, and he vowed that he would ride off instantly
and tell his friend everything.
Yet, after all, he did nothing of the sort! (Paul and Libor perhaps
could have told why.) So far from taking any step of the kind, he held
his peace altogether, and finally acquiesced in his son's choice. He
gave his consent, very unwillingly, it is true, but he gave it!
Master Peter came to him on a visit not long after, and was so far from
betraying any annoyance that he joked and congratulated his friend on
having a rich daughter-in-law instead of a poor one, and was full of
praise of Jolánta, whom he declared to be a dear girl whom no one could
help loving. If Dora's father did not care, why should Paul's?
All difficulties in Paul's way seemed to have been removed; but it would
be necessary, as he reminded Libor, to keep up the fiction of Dora's
attachment for some little time to come, or he would be found out, and
his father's anger in that case would be something not easily appeased.
It hurt his pride to employ the clerk in such a matter, and to have it
supposed that a girl who might have married his honourable self could
possibly look with favour upon such a young man as Libor, but there
seemed to be no help for it. He was already in Libor's power.
And Libor was more than willing to play the part assigned to him. He had
as keen an eye to the main chance as Paul, and Paul had not only been
liberal in money for the present, but had held out brilliant hopes for
the future.
If he stayed on with Master Stephen, argued Libor with himself, he would
be called "clerk" all the days of his life, and end by marrying some
little village girl. If, on the other hand, he obliged young Héderváry,
made himself necessary to him, and, above all, entered into a
partnership with him of such a nature as Héderváry would not on any
account wish to have betrayed--why then he might kill two birds with one
stone! He had already had a few acres of land promised him; if, in
addition to this, he could obtain some gentlemanly situation such as
that of keeper, or governor, or perhaps even marry a distant connection
of the family, an active, sensible man such as himself might rise to
almost anything! Young Héderváry might be to him a mine of wealth.
This settled the matter, and no sooner had Master Peter left his
brother's house than Libor found reasons without end for going to see
him. There were various articles to be sent after him in the first
place; then there were settlements, arrangements to be made, letters or
messages from Jolánta to be carried; and Libor was always ready and
eager to be the messenger. The other pages had not a chance now, for he
was always beforehand with them; so much so indeed that both they, the
servants, and at last even Master Stephen, could not help noticing that,
whereas formerly Libor had been a stay-at-home, now he seemed never to
be so well pleased as when he was on the move.
Master Stephen wondered what he could want with his brother Peter, and
the young pages, and sometimes the servants, joked him and tried to find
out what made him so ready to undertake these more or less adventurous
journeys. Libor said nothing, but looked volumes; and they noticed, too,
that the old red trousers and waistcoat had quite disappeared, and that
the page now thought much of his appearance and came out quite a dandy
whenever he was going on his travels.
Master Stephen held it beneath his dignity to joke with his inferiors,
but Jolánta had been more condescending to Libor of late than she had
ever been before; and naturally so, as he was in Paul's confidence, and
every now and then had news of him, or even a message from him to give
her. It brought them nearer together, and, innocently enough, Jolánta
once asked him merrily what it was that made him like to go on such
long-expeditions, when it would have been just as easy to send someone
else. Whereupon Libor assumed such an expression of shamefaced modesty
that Jolánta, who had spoken in the merest jest, began to fancy that
perhaps the page really had a reason, and might be courting one of
Dora's maids. That it could possibly be Dora herself, never crossed her
mind for a moment.
But others saw matters in a different light. The servants had their
gossip and their suspicions; the young pages jested, and looked on Libor
with eyes of envy; and Libor, though careful not to commit himself,
managed somehow to encourage the idea that he and Dora were deeply
attached to one another.
Of course, neither servants nor pages held their tongues, and soon
people were whispering about Dora Szirmay in a way that would have
horrified herself and all her family had they known it. But those
chiefly concerned are the last to be reached by such rumours. Whether in
any shape they had reached Paul's parents it is impossible to say; but,
at all events, he had married Jolánta with their consent, and Libor had
continued his visits to Master Peter whenever he could find or devise a
pretext.
On the occasion of his present visit, when he had been the bearer of the
summons to the Diet, "on his way to Pest," he availed himself of Master
Peter's suggestion that he should take a look round the place, to make
himself thoroughly acquainted with the ins and outs of the court-yard,
stables, and other out-buildings; for, as he reflected, such knowledge
never came amiss, and one could never tell when it might be useful. He
even noticed absently that one part of the outer wall had not been
repaired. More than this, while prowling about in the dusk, he had
accidentally fallen in, not for the first time, with Dora's maid, Borka,
whose favour he had won long ago by a few pretty speeches, not
unaccompanied by some more solid token of his goodwill.
It was always well to have a friend at Court.
But just as he turned away from Borka, he came face to face with
Talabor; and Talabor actually had the impudence to cross-question him as
to what he was about. He was not to be shaken off, moreover, and at
last, apparently making a virtue of necessity, Libor confessed that he
had given the maid a note for Mistress Dora; but he begged and implored
Talabor not to betray him, for it would be the utter ruin of him if he
did.
Of course he knew that it was most presumptuous that a poor young man
like himself could ever aspire to the hand of a daughter of the
Szirmays; they both knew that their attachment was hopeless, but--well,
they had spent several years under the same roof, and had had
opportunities of meeting, and--could not Mr. Talabor understand?
Mr. Talabor understood perfectly, inasmuch as his own admiration of
Miss Dora had been growing ever since the first day he saw her. He had
worshipped her as something far above him, as all that was good,
upright, and honourable, and it was a shock to have it even suggested
that she could condescend to underhand dealings with anyone. It was odd,
too, if she really cared for Libor, that she should have received and
behaved to him as she had done, and though Libor might protest that
Master Peter had always shown him marked favour, Talabor was of opinion
that he shared his own dislike to the young man, and had shown it pretty
plainly.
"Master Peter ought to know what is going on," he said sturdily; but
Libor thereupon became frantic in his entreaties. He implored, he
positively writhed in his anguish, not for himself, oh no! what did it
matter about a poor, insignificant fellow like him? it might ruin all
his prospects with the Hédervárys, probably would, and he should not
even be able to return to Master Stephen; he should be a vagabond, and
beggar--but that was no matter of course compared with Mistress Dora!
She would be ruined in the eyes of the world if it came abroad that she
had stooped to care for such as he, and it was certain to get about if
Talabor betrayed them. Whereas now no one but themselves and Borka knew
anything about it; and she was faithful, she would not open her lips,
for he had made it worth her while to keep silence.
"An odd sort of fidelity," it seemed to Talabor; but he was not quite
clear as to whether it were his business to interfere; and, if it were,
to injure Mistress Dora----
Libor saw his advantage and pressed it. He reminded Talabor that Master
Peter was hasty, and so incautious when his wrath was aroused that some
one would be sure to hear of it; he would certainly tell his brother,
Master Stephen would dismiss himself, and--well, the whole thing would
come out. Dora would be scorned by the world, and--besides, this was
probably his last visit; he was going to a distance, and what was more,
they had both realised that their attachment must be given up--it was
hopeless.
"If it can't be, it can't!" said Libor, with a deep-drawn sigh.
He threw himself upon Talabor's mercy, and Talabor promised.
"But remember," said he, "it is only because speaking might do more harm
than good, as you are not coming again, but if ever you do, and I catch
you tampering with Borka, I go straight to Master Peter."
"If I come, and if you catch me, so you may!" said Libor, with a sneer.
"I understand all about it," he added to himself, as he turned away with
the announcement that he was going to see Moses _deák_, the governor.
"I understand! You would give your eyes to be in my shoes, Mr. Talabor,
or what you suppose to be mine! And why shouldn't they be? The ball has
been set rolling, and the farther it rolls the bigger it will grow.
Borka will do her part with the servants, and they won't keep their
mouths shut! So! my scornful little beauty, you are not likely to get
many suitors whom Master Peter will favour, and who knows? Next time we
meet--next time we meet--we may both sing a different song."