Mr. Sandor, the owner of the registry-office in Buda-Pesth, had told
me in his last letter that he was going to meet me at the station, and
asked me to carry a handkerchief in my hand. I had passed a perfectly
sleepless night, and when we arrived in Buda-Pesth in the morning I
felt quite stiff, and got out from the compartment rather clumsily,
with my brown canvas trunk in one hand, and a handkerchief in the
other. I looked up and down the platform, and soon observed an elderly
gentleman who hurried up to me.
"Have you come from Langenau?"
"Yes," I said, and would have given a world to know what he thought of
me.
"Do you want a taxi?" he asked, throwing a quick glance at my trunk.
All the money I possessed did not amount to more than sixpence, and I
shook my head violently at his question.
"No, no; I would rather walk."
"Just as you like."
A few minutes later he asked me whether he might be permitted to carry
my trunk, but again I shook my head. After rather a long way he stopped
at one of the tall, beautiful houses, and I thought it was the house of
the family who had engaged me.
"Are we there?" I asked, with my heart beating to my very throat.
"No," he answered smilingly; "here is my own lodging. I have taken you
here first so that you can make yourself a little more tidy before you
are presented to your new mistress. My wife will certainly be pleased
to help you."
He had opened a door and we entered a pretty-looking room. A lady came
in. She nodded at me very pleasantly, and Mr. Sandor said something to
her in the Hungarian language, which of course I did not understand.
After that he turned again to me: "I leave you with my wife now; as
soon as you are ready I shall be ready too."
Not until the door had closed behind him, did I understand the
ridiculous position I was in. He expected me to change my clothes,
never suspecting that they were my best.
"Don't be shy," the lady said; "do just as if you were at home."
But even if I had been really at home, I could not have done much more.
I stammered that I did not want to change my dress, but should like to
have a clothes-brush, if there was one handy.
"Of course," Mrs. Sandor replied, "here is one;" and with a smile she
handed to me the desired brush. I used it with clumsy haste and gave it
back.
"Is that really everything?" she asked me in the same pleasant way as
before.
"Yes, everything."
After that she called her husband in.
"Ready then?"
"Quite," I replied, and stooping down to lift up my trunk, I said
"Good-day" to Mrs. Sandor, and followed her husband out into the
street.
We did not go far on this occasion. He stopped at the corner of the
road and told me to follow him into the tram-car, a command which I
found great difficulty in obeying. However, I got in at last, and Mr.
Sandor sat down beside me.
"I dare say," he commenced after a little while, "my letters were quite
clear to you, and that you are in no doubt as to your future duties.
With regard to your mistress, I do not think that there can be found a
more kind and gentle creature, and I am sure that you will feel very
comfortable in her house. As far as the three boys are concerned, you
will have to find out for yourself the best way to get on with them,
and I hope that you will remain there for a long time."
He kept on talking in this strain, and in my heart of hearts I wondered
whether I really looked so silly and common a girl as my brother
had thought me. The house to which Mr. Sandor took me was a very
fine-looking building. There was a broad marble staircase, covered
with a costly carpet, which was kept in its place by rods of shining
brass. A smart-looking parlour-maid led the way into a roomy hall,
bidding us to wait. I put my trunk on the floor, and with my heart
beating fast sat down on the edge of a chair. Mr. Sandor seated himself
too, but his heart did not seem to beat any faster. We had to wait for
rather a long time, and I was almost wishing that we might be left
there to wait for ever. But in the very midst of that thought fell the
mellowed sound of footsteps, and a lady entered. I felt so embarrassed
that I could not speak, and stood up terribly ashamed. But she never
looked at me. She spoke to Mr. Sandor in Hungarian, and I grew doubtful
whether she knew that there was anyone else in the room. All at once
she turned her head and looked at me with searching eyes.
"Are you quite sure that you will like to stay in Buda-Pesth?" she
asked me. I did not quite know what she meant and only bowed my head in
silence. "I am afraid that you might grow home-sick, and I should so
hate to change again."
"No," I said; "I am sure I shall like it very much."
Mr. Sandor then said "Good-morning" to the lady, and as he shook hands
with me he begged me not to forget what he had told me. After he had
gone, the lady bade me follow her and led the way into a room that was
furnished completely in white. A table stood in the centre and around
it three boys, whom I guessed to be my charges, were sitting. They got
up as we entered and looked rather shyly at me.
"Your new governess," the lady said to the children. "Won't you say
'Good-morning' to her?"
Once alone with the children, my shyness left me. I shook hands with
them and asked a few simple questions which they answered in broken
German. After I had taken off my things, I busied myself at once in
amusing the children, tired though I was. I built houses of paper
on the table, and did various little things to help me to gain some
courage.
After a few days I grew more reassured, and dropped my shyness even
towards the mistress. I could see that she was satisfied with me, and
since the children also were very fond of me, I no longer felt afraid
of being sent away.
I had plenty to do. To take the children to school and to fetch them
back again. Also to take them for walks when the weather was fine
enough. The darning and sewing I did when they lay asleep.
Apart from a burning home-sickness that had taken hold of me and
tortured me especially in the evenings I felt quite happy there, and no
doubt believed that I had found at last what I had been longing for all
my life. There was one thing, however, that darkened the clear horizon
of my days: I had not a single decent dress to wear. It would hardly
have troubled me, but I knew that my mistress wanted me to be dressed
smartly. She had made little remarks sometimes, which, although never
addressed directly to me, gave me to understand that she was ashamed
for her friends--whose governesses looked so smart that I had mistaken
them for mistresses at the beginning--to see me.
One day my mistress came into the nursery, and, looking around somewhat
discontentedly, said:
"The children have been invited to tea, but who shall accompany them?"
I looked at her in surprise.
"Why, I, of course."
"Impossible; you can't go there in that blue dress of yours."
I remembered my brother and what he had told me, and started to fret
again about being sent away. I had not been there for a whole month,
and had not yet received my wages. But my mind was made up that I would
buy a dress as soon as I had my money, and I had already looked in all
the shop-windows in order to choose one. There were several dresses
that I should have liked to buy, but on looking at the price I was so
horrified that I avoided the shop-windows for days afterwards.
My shoes were wearing out too, and when the thirty-five shillings at
last fell due, there were so many great and little things needed that
the wonderful thirty-five shillings melted down to a few small coppers
before I had been able to think of buying a new dress.
One evening, when I was busily putting the children to bed, the master
came into the nursery and, after having exchanged a few words with
each of the boys, stepped over to where I was standing and touching my
blouse he said:
"Don't you feel cold in it?"
It was a very simple remark, and quite justified too, because it was
cold and the blouse was thin, but the look that he threw at me reminded
me of coarse and ugly words I had often heard before.
I said that I did not feel cold, and when he reached out his hand again
I stepped back quickly.
He came in earlier from that day onwards, and spent much time in the
nursery. He talked chiefly with the children, but all the while his
eyes wandered over me, and I felt that each look he gave me was like
a new offense. One afternoon when my mistress was out, the children
at school, and I was sitting in the nursery busy over some mending,
the door opened and the master came in. It was not his wont to leave
his office during the daytime, and bowing my head a little I looked
at him with some surprise. He closed the door very carefully and
leaned against the table. I had taken up my work again, but my fingers
trembled. He did not speak, and the silence became unbearable to me.
"Why," he said at last, "why don't you look at me?"
"Because the children need the things," I replied, bending my face
still closer over my darning.
"Quite so; but if I want to speak to you, you ought to have a little
time."
I thought that I had been rude, perhaps, since after all he was the
master, so I got up from the chair and looked at him submissively.
"You know," he said very slowly and with a peculiar inflection in his
voice--"you know that I mean to be kind to you, that your welfare
interests me, and that I would not mind a little sacrifice on my part
if you would only appreciate it."
I opened my mouth to make some clumsy reply, but with his hand he waved
to me to be silent, and continued:
"You must know yourself that you are in somewhat pressed circumstances,
and I am quite willing to give you a large advance. There is, of
course, no need that you should mention that to my wife...." And while
he finished the last sentence he produced a small bundle of bank-notes
and put it on the table.
At that I lost my head and flew into a terrible rage.
"Take that money away," I shouted, "or I will tear it up!" and because
he did not take it away at once, I flung it at his feet. He stooped
to pick it up, but his eyes as he turned them to me were shining with
anger.
"I am going to tell my wife at once," he said, "to get a lady and no
servant-girl for my children."
After that he went.
I was determined to leave the house immediately, and could scarcely
wait for the evening when the mistress would come in. But before she
came in I received a letter from home that contained most pitiable
news about the financial side of their circumstances. "Could not I
send a little money, just to keep the little ones from starving?"
was their humble yet urgent request. I had received my salary a few
days ago and not spent it yet. I took every penny of it and hurried
to a post-office. After the receipt was handed to me I felt somewhat
relieved, and having hidden it in my pocket very carefully I hastened
home.
It was getting late and I started to put the children to bed, inwardly
troubled and disturbed because it had occurred to me that I had no
money and could not very well leave my place before another month. I
would not think of looking out for another situation in Buda-Pesth
itself. I had suffered so much from humiliations and home-sickness that
I hated the very sight of the houses and streets. I remembered the
threat of my master, but it left me cold. If they were really going
to send me away it was quite a different thing from casting away the
shelter above my head.
My mistress returned with her husband at about eight in the evening.
She came into the nursery with her hat and veil on and asked whether
the boys had been good. I answered in the affirmative, whereupon she
left again. I used to take my supper in the nursery. The dining-room
was not far away, and I could hear the clicking of the forks and knives
quite plainly. That evening I listened to every sound, anxious to know
whether they spoke about me. But they never mentioned my name. My
mistress laughed several times, and told her husband about something
in her highly-pitched voice. She always talked loudly, and I was
constantly afraid that she might wake the children when they lay asleep.
The next morning my mistress treated me quite in the usual manner, and
I felt certain that her husband had said nothing against me. After I
had taken the children to school I tidied the nursery. When I was about
to do the little beds the door opened and the cook came in with a pair
of boots in her hands. I had picked up a little Hungarian by now, and
could make myself understood quite well. The boots were a pair of mine
which I had taken to be repaired a few days before. She told me that
the shoemaker was waiting in the kitchen, and named the price that was
owing for the mending. With a sudden terror I remembered that I had
sent away all my money, and had not a penny left to pay for the shoes.
After thinking for a few moments I told her to give him back the shoes.
"But," she insisted, looking down at my feet which were in shoes that
certainly were not new, "don't you want them?"
"Oh yes; but what am I to do? If the lady were in I could ask her to
advance me a little money."
"What nonsense!" she replied. "It is such a trifle I will let you have
the money with pleasure."
I wanted the shoes badly, and felt sincerely grateful for her offer.
"Thank you so much," I said. "You shall have the money back by
to-night."
"That is not at all necessary. She does not like to advance us money. I
can wait until you get your wages."
When the lady had returned I did not ask her for money as I had
intended to do. In addition to the remark that the cook had made about
it, I had another reason. I was ashamed to confess that I had sent my
last wages home.
During the next few weeks I did something that I have never ceased
to regret, and probably never shall. I borrowed more money from the
cook. I certainly never asked her for a large sum, but whenever I told
her that I was in need of twopence, she insisted on giving me ten
shillings, and I spent them as quickly as I received them. In that way
I owed her twenty-five shillings before half of the month was over. It
did not, however, really trouble me. Twenty-five shillings, I reckoned,
still left ten shillings to go home with. However, something happened
which altered my position completely.
The lady was going to give an evening entertainment, and had invited
about forty people. All sorts of preparations went on all day long,
and the evening promised to be a success. As a matter of course, I
was excluded from the proud assembly in the drawing-room, and stayed
in the nursery as usual. I was sitting on a low chair reading a book,
when I suddenly heard very soft footsteps, and looking up I saw the
master. Without saying a single word he bent over my chair and, taking
my head tightly into both of his hands, he kissed me. After that he
released me, and went out as softly and hurriedly as he had come in.
My book dropped, giving a low, dull sound as it fell on the carpet,
and I sat motionless for a while. Trembling in every limb, I got up at
last, and stepping to my little washstand took a brush, and scrubbed
my face until the skin was rubbed through and the blood showed. Having
done that, I threw myself dressed as I was on my bed, and remained
there till long after midnight. What I had felt during those hours was
no hatred, no anger, but a great inexpressible grief. I awoke in the
morning like one stunned, and did my work mechanically. When I took
the children to school I paid little heed to their talk, but tormented
my brain to find out how to leave that house at once. I remembered the
twenty-five shillings which I owed the cook, and the horrible fact that
my wages were not due for a fortnight. If I was going to leave right
away the money due to me would not even have covered my debt. Where
was I to get the money from that I needed to travel home with? When I
thought of my return to my parents a hot wave of shame swept over me.
I had dreamed of it often and often--how I would come home some day
with many beautiful dresses and costly finery; but as things had now
turned out I was no better off than I was when I had left home. After
a few minutes' thought, however, I felt less concerned about that, and
finally grew utterly indifferent as to my appearance. All I desired
was to have enough money to enable me to pay the cook and to travel
to Vienna. Once there, perhaps my brother might help me to go home.
Yet, much as I reckoned and much as I thought, there was left no other
way out except to earn the money wanted--that is to say, to stay for
another fortnight at that hated place.
Sick at heart, but calm and composed, I said "Good-morning" to my
mistress an hour later. She yawned as she returned my salute, and told
me how much she had enjoyed the evening, but that she was feeling tired
to-day.
Once during the morning I went into the kitchen to fill a jug with
water. The cook and the parlourmaid stood together and whispered to
each other. When they saw me they stopped abruptly, and gave me a
disdainful look. They had never looked at me like that, and I grew
uneasy. After I had filled the jug I went back into my nursery, but the
uncomfortable feeling that was roused within me would not be quelled.
When I returned with the children from school that day, the cook
informed me that her ladyship wished to see me at once. I wanted to
take off the children's coats first, but while I was wrestling with
the arm of the youngest she told me to go at once.
With mingled feelings of surprise and anger I obeyed. The door leading
to my mistress's room was ajar, and I entered without knocking. As if
she had been waiting for me, my mistress stood in the centre of the
room, fully erect, her dark eyes flashing at me angrily.
"Must I be told by the servants," she shouted, without returning my
salute, "what a miserable creature I have taken into my house?" And
getting into a terrible rage, she yelled: "Out of my sight, and do not
poison the air here more than you have done already. I give you ten
minutes, after that I will throw you down the stairs if you have not
disappeared."
I said nothing and asked nothing. I went back into the nursery and
packed up the few things that belonged to me. The children were puzzled
and picked up what had dropped from my trembling hands. When I had
almost finished I stopped and listened. Someone had set up a terrible
noise of crying and lamenting in the kitchen, and a few seconds later
the cook rushed in.
"My money!" she screamed; "how am I to get my money now?"
"I am sure I don't know," I replied; whereupon she began to howl like a
hungry beast, and to run like a madwoman up and down the room. But all
at once she grew as quiet as a mouse, and looking up from my trunk I
saw my mistress in the room.
"What is the matter?" she asked, without giving me a single look.
The cook explained, and began to howl anew. When she had finished, the
lady turned towards me.
"You wretch!" she said; "you miserable wretch! And I have suffered you
to sit at my table and breathe the same air with my children for nine
months, you dirty, dirty thing! You----"; and then she said something
which I do not care to repeat.
I could feel the blood leave my cheeks when I heard the last words, but
I set my teeth and did not speak. Without paying any further attention
to either the lady or the cook I continued to pack my trunk, and when I
had finished I went towards the door. But the lady stopped me.
"The trunk you leave here," she thundered, "and it is to remain until
you have paid the cook."
"I have a claim on a fortnight's money," I said; "that she may have,
and I will send her the rest as soon as I get a situation."
They began to consider the matter, and I heard the lady say that she
would much rather give me the money, in order to enable me to travel
home, since she hated to know that I was in Buda-Pesth. The only thing
to do was to keep my trunk back. After that talk she turned to me, and
threw seventeen shillings on the table.
"There," she said, in a terrible voice, "out with you, but the trunk is
to remain here."
I took the money and looked round for the children, but they had left
the room. In the kitchen I met the parlourmaid, who had listened the
whole time. She opened the front door for me, and mockingly bowed me
out. When I had reached the street I ran as fast as I could to the
station, inquired for the next train to Vienna, and, two hours later,
sat in one of its compartments. Pressing myself hard into a corner,
I looked round now and again very shyly and very carefully, because
I thought that I had heard someone call: "You wretch! you miserable
wretch! You dirty, dirty thing! You----."
I trembled all over with excitement, and closed my eyes; but although
utterly sad at heart, I shed no tears that night. We reached Vienna
the next morning, and for a few moments I thought of calling upon my
brother. But I gave up the idea. Would he not only scorn and despise
me? So I travelled on to Langenau. It was dark when the train steamed
into the well-known little station, and I hastened home. The children
were all fast asleep, but my parents were still up. Both of them were
startled to see me, and besieged me with anxious questions. I said that
the whole family with whom I had been had died. Later on my father
also went to bed, and I was alone with my mother.
"Where is your trunk?" she asked me.
I replied that it was going to be sent on to me.
There was a lengthy pause, during which my mother stared at me
thoughtfully.
"I believe you have got no luck," she said at last.
"I am sure I haven't," I said, watching a great black spider that crept
slowly along the wooden floor.
I stayed at home now, and as I did not care to meet any of my old
acquaintances I never left the house. There was hardly anybody who knew
that I had come back. It is true that I longed to see Miss Risa de
Vall, but since I had no decent clothes in which to visit her I would
not write to her. My mother kept on asking when my trunk would come,
and I answered always, "I expect to-morrow."
To my great surprise the trunk really arrived about three weeks after.
As a matter of course I was very pleased to have my things back, but
to what kind circumstances I owed it I never knew. The very first
thing I wanted to do now was to obtain a situation. The circumstances
of my parents were no better than their letters had led me to expect.
The rent especially proved to be a burning and everlasting question.
But where was I to take a situation again? At Langenau?--I would not
hear of it. At Krems?--that did not suit me either. I decided to write
to my brother, and to ask him to find something suitable for me. The
letter, however, was never answered, and things grew no better. I
earned nothing, and consequently could buy nothing. A new pair of boots
was once more a tempting suggestion. Not wishing to lose more time, I
had decided to look out for a situation at Krems after all, when the
postman called one day and delivered a letter for me. I recognized at
once the Hungarian stamp, showing the sloping cross and above it the
flying eagle.
But the handwriting did not seem familiar to me, and fearing that I
was going to be reminded of my debt to the cook, I opened the letter
with some alarm. After I had read it I did not quite know what to
think of it. It was written by Mr. Sandor; mentioning nothing about my
last place he told me of a situation which he had vacant, and which he
thought would suit me excellently. There were only two children--a boy
and a girl, aged between three and five years. The wages were the same.
My parents tried hard to persuade me to accept the offer at once, but
I had my own thoughts about it and could not make up my mind. Another
letter, coming from the same place, was handed to me the next day. Mr.
Sandor wrote that as the matter was very urgent, would I be good enough
to let him know my decision by return of post.
I put all my things together now, and examined them thoroughly. If
that blouse, I thought, received a new pair of sleeves it might do
quite well at home; and if I sewed a new belt on that skirt, it would
not look so bad. I put aside piece after piece, and decided to start
with the mending at once; but before I sat down to take up the needle,
I wrote to Mr. Sandor that I should certainly feel very pleased to
obtain the situation in question.
On the day before my departure I could not stay indoors, but went out.
It was evening, and under cover of the growing darkness I visited all
the places that I knew so well and loved so dearly. I passed the house
which we had inhabited after our very first removal, and looked in at
the open gate. The brooklet there flowed through the yard as it had
done at the time when I was a little child; but in the corner, where my
flowers had closed and opened themselves so generously for me, there
stood a kennel, and a large bushy dog darted at me distrustfully. Very
sadly I moved on. The church square had not altered. The church stood
in its centre, dark and quiet as of old, and opposite to it there
loomed up the house of my former friend Leopoldine. All the windows
were illuminated, and the whole building suggested comfort and ease. I
walked on again down to the very end of the street, leaving behind me
all the well-known cottages, together with the dyer's house, until I
reached the graveyard. I used to be afraid of that place when I was a
child, and always avoided it as much as I could, but to-day my heart
was filled with such sadness that all other feelings were overcome by
it.
Leaning myself against the low grey wall, my thoughts went on freely.
What had life been to me so far? Scorned and avoided ever since I was
a child, with nothing for my own but the quiet thoughts and the secret
dreams. How different this might have been if "he" had come, my prince
out of the fairyland! But he had failed me too.
And as I stood there staring into the darkness above and beyond the
graves, I saw a vision--a circle of flames, growing into enormous size,
embracing all the world except myself, leaving me outside and alone.
My parents went to see me off again the next day. On this occasion,
however, I did not speak, and walked to the station almost reluctantly.
When I was seated in the train I neither smiled nor cried, being
utterly indifferent. I did not know that fate was ready for me.