A LIFE'S HAPPINESS AT STAKE.
"A splendid country this!" exclaimed Gabriel Zimandy, when he had
lighted his meerschaum and found himself at leisure to survey the
landscape. "Too bad the Austrians have their grip on it!"
"Look here," interposed Manasseh, "suppose we steer clear of politics.
Do you agree?"
"Did I say anything about politics?" retorted Gabriel. "I merely alluded
to the beautiful view. Well, then, we'll talk about beautiful women if
you prefer. You little know what a tender spot you touched upon with the
ladies. I refer to the brunette--not to the blond, with whom you were
talking."
"Ah, is the other a brunette? I did not get a good look at her."
"But she got a good look at you, while you were discussing the duties of
women toward their husbands, the subject of divorce, and Heaven knows
what else besides."
"And did I awaken any unpleasant reminiscences?" asked the young man.
"Not in the bosom of your fair antagonist,--she is already a widow,--but
in that of her companion, who sat silent and listened to all you said.
She is on her way to Rome to petition the Pope to annul her marriage."
"Is that so!" exclaimed Manasseh, in surprise. "I should have said she
was just out of a convent where she had been placed to be educated."
"What eyes you have! Even without looking at her you have guessed her
age to a month, I'll warrant! She is my client, the unfortunate Princess
Cagliari, _née_ Countess Blanka Zboroy. You know the family: their
estates are entailed, so that all but the eldest son have to shift for
themselves as best they can. The younger sons go into the army or the
Church, and the daughters are wedded to rich husbands, or else they take
the veil. But it so happened that once upon a time a rich bishop
belonging to this family made a will directing that his property be
allowed to accumulate until it became large enough to provide a snug
fortune of a million florins for each of his relatives; and this end was
recently realised. But by the terms of the will, the heirs are allowed
only the usufruct of this legacy, and, furthermore, even that is to be
forfeited under certain circumstances, as for example, if allegiance be
refused to the reigning dynasty, or if the legatee renounce the Roman
Catholic faith, or, in the case of a woman, lead an unchaste life. Any
part of the estate thus forfeited goes to the remaining legatees in an
equal division, and so you can imagine what a sharp watch the several
beneficiaries under this will keep over one another. A million is no
bagatelle; the game is worth the candle. But to come back to our
starting-point, Countess Blanka was joined in marriage with Prince
Cagliari as soon as she left the convent. You must know the prince, at
least by reputation; he plays no small part in the political world."
"I have met him several times," replied Manasseh.
"At court balls in Vienna, doubtless," said the advocate; "for, old as
Cagliari is, he still turns night into day and burns the candle at both
ends. When he married Countess Blanka he was very intimate with the
Marchioness Caldariva, formerly known to lovers of the ballet as 'the
beautiful Cyrene.' She practised the terpsichorean art with such success
that one day she danced into favour with an Italian marquis who honoured
her with the gift of his name and rank, after which he shot himself. The
marchioness now owns a splendid palace in Vienna, a present from Prince
Cagliari, who, they say, forgot to deliver up the key to her when he
married Countess Blanka. It is even whispered that the marchioness
herself tied the bridegroom's cravat for him on his wedding-day. Well,
however that may be, the prince took the young lady to wife, much as a
rich man buys a horse of rare breed, or a costly statue, or any other
high-priced curiosity. But the poor bride could not endure her husband's
presence. She was only a child, and, up to the day of her marriage, had
no conception of the real meaning of matrimony. The prince has never
enjoyed a moment's happiness with his young wife. His very first attempt
to offer her a husband's caresses caused her to turn deadly pale and go
into convulsions; and this occurred as often as the two were left alone.
The prince complained of his hard lot, and sought medical advice. It was
reported that the young wife was subject to epileptic attacks. A man of
any delicacy would have accepted the situation and held his peace; but
the prince took counsel of his factotum, a certain Benjamin Vajdar----"
An involuntary movement, and a half-suppressed exclamation on Manasseh's
part, made the speaker turn to him inquiringly; then, as the other said
nothing, he resumed:
"This factotum is the evil genius of the family, and the two together
make a pair hard to match. The prince has obstinacy, sensuality,
arrogance, and vindictiveness; and his tool has brains, cunning, and
inventiveness, for the effective exercise of the other's evil
tendencies. Cagliari finally went back to the beautiful Cyrene for
consolation; but she was bent on proving her power over him, and at her
bidding he heaped all sorts of indignities upon his innocent and
helpless wife. At last, to crown all, he instituted divorce proceedings
against her. This was the price he paid to regain the fair Cyrene's
favour, but I am convinced that Benjamin Vajdar is at the bottom of it
all. The prince bases his suit for a separation on his wife's alleged
epileptic attacks and consequent unfitness for the wedded state. Of
course that is all nonsense. I am not an epileptic, nor wont to bite or
scratch people; but I can't approach this Cagliari without experiencing
a sort of foaming at the mouth and a twitching of the muscles, as if I
must pitch into the man, tooth and nail. My view of the case is that my
client finds her husband's attentions so abhorrent that she even swoons
when he offers to kiss her; and so I am going to apply for a total
dissolution of the marriage, for if the other side win their case the
papal edict will forbid a second marriage on the wife's part. And just
imagine a young girl like her, in the first bloom of youth, scarcely
twenty years old, compelled to renounce all hope of wedded happiness. We
are now on our way to Rome to see whether my fair client's personal
appeal may not avail somewhat with her judges. They cannot but take pity
on her if their hearts are human. Prince Cagliari has of late lost
favour at the Vatican, and all the conditions are in our favour; but
there is one man whom I fear,--that cool and crafty Vajdar. I fell in
with him in Venice, and asked him whither he was going. 'To Milan,' said
he, but I knew he lied. He, too, is bound for Rome, and he will be there
ahead of us, or at least overtake us. If we could only reach Rome first,
I am confident we should win the game. But I fear he may be on this very
train. Why, how warm you look! The perspiration stands in drops on your
forehead. Does my pipe annoy you? No? Well, as I was saying, I suspect
the fellow is on this train with us, and if he falls into my hands I'll
wring his miserable neck! He thinks he's going to ruin the young life of
my client and bury her alive, does he? We'll see about that."
"He shall not do it!" exclaimed the other, with emphasis.
"Good for you, my friend! And if you can propose some scheme for balking
him, I'll take my hat off to you. Tell me, now, how can the princess
make sure of outwitting her foes, and so escape the horrible fate of
being buried alive?"
"She can turn Protestant, and then the Church of Rome will have no claim
whatever on her."
"Very good, but how about the million florins left her as a good
Catholic by the bishop?"
Manasseh Adorjan crumbled his cigar in his fingers. "If the princess has
a woman's heart in her bosom," he declared, "she will throw her million
away in return for the love of a true man."