THE SPY.
And now we are in Mr. Kecskerey's quarters again. It would be a great
mistake on our part to leave him out of sight. An individual like him,
once seen, may not be forgotten. He was now living at Pest, where he had
elegant chambers and all his old renown, carrying on his old business of
amalgamating the various elements of society.
It was still early, and the worthy man was not yet half dressed. When I
say not yet half dressed, I mean the expression to be taken in the
literal sense of the word. He was sitting in the middle of the room on a
rich purple ottoman, enfolded in a red burnous, sucking away at a huge
chibook, puffing smoke all round him, and contemplating himself in a
large mirror exactly opposite to him. At the opposite end of the ottoman
sat a huge orang-outang of about his own size, in a similarly charming
position, wrapped in a similar burnous, also smoking a chibook, and
regarding himself in the mirror.
Scattered all about were heaps of scented _billet-doux_, verses, musical
notes, and other perishable articles of the same sort. Round about the
walls hung all kinds of select pictures, which would certainly have been
very much ashamed if they could have seen each other. On the table, in a
vase of genuine Herculanean bronze, were the visiting-cards of a number
of notable men and women of the smartest set. The carpets were all woven
by delicate feminine hands, and bore the figures of dogs, horses, and
huntsmen. The tapestried walls revealed the presence of small hidden
doors, and the windows were covered by double curtains close drawn.
In the antechamber outside, a small negro groom was scratching his ear
for sheer _ennui_. He had orders not to admit any gentleman visitor till
after twelve o'clock, from which he drew the temerarious conclusion that
he was free to admit ladies up to that hour.
Despite this prohibition, however, it chanced that Jussuf, in reply to a
determined pull at the bell, did admit a gentleman; and Mr. Kecskerey
heard the nigger lad talking in his Kaffir tongue to the new arrival,
and was furious with him in consequence.
"Who is it, Jussuf?" cried Mr. Kecskerey, in such a sharp voice that the
baboon on the sofa behind his back began to hiss for fright.
By way of answer the new arrival himself rushed through the door. "These
privileged friends of mine are vastly impertinent," murmured Mr.
Kecskerey to himself, as he perceived the intruder in the doorway; and
it seemed to give him great satisfaction when the visitor fell back at
the sight of his peculiar costume. But a moment later he recognized who
it was, and, with a determined effort at gaiety, exclaimed, stretching
out his long dry hand towards him--
"Ah, Abellino! 'tis you, eh? We fancied you had mediatized yourself in
India. Come and sit down by me. Have you brought back with you some of
those famous pastilles which you mentioned in your genial letters?"
"Go to the devil, and take your baboon with you," cursed the new
arrival. "You resemble one another so closely that I did not know which
was the master of the house."
"Ah, this monkey belongs to the species most fashionable at the Egyptian
court. Besides, my baboon is under an obligation to be polite. Joko,
show your good breeding by giving a pipe to my guest."
Joko did as he was told, and brought the pipe.
"And now sit down by me and make yourself comfortable," continued
Kecskerey. "Jussuf, fill my guest's pipe for him. I regret I cannot
oblige you with a narghilly."
Abellino took off the huge mantle which covered his shoulders, sat down
face to face with Mr. Kecskerey, and amused himself in the mean time by
throwing paper pellets at the baboon.
"And what, then, has brought you back into this realm, my hero, my
troubadour?" inquired Mr. Kecskerey. "Some love-adventure, some notable
affair, I'll be bound. I'll dare to guess that you have abducted some
Hindu vestal from Budhur?"
"Answer me first of all; is there still any rumour abroad about my
former affair?"
Kecskerey made an angry grimace.
"My dear friend," said he, "you ask too much of me. You seem to expect
that folks will talk of nothing but your beggarly duel for a whole
twelve-month. Why, it is as much forgotten as if it had never been. Look
now! you killed Fennimore, and Fennimore had a younger brother who by
his death succeeded to the family estates. They asked him a little time
ago why he did not pursue the action brought against you. 'I am not so
mad,' said he, 'as to take action against my benefactor.' You can meet
him at my place this very evening. He is a much finer fellow than his
brother, and he'll be very glad to see you."
"The luck's on my side then, but let us talk of other things. It looks
as if Pest were now becoming the nest of the elegant world, or you would
not have established yourself in it. What are you doing here?"
"We are spreading civilization. It is a somewhat poorer diversion than
spending the season at Paris, but a few Hungarian magnates have taken it
into their heads to live henceforth at Pest, and for their sake others,
and for these others' sake others still have pitched their tents in this
little town, in which there is as much pleasure as you'll find at
London, and as many illusions as you'll find anywhere."
"That's all right. And what do you know about the Kárpáthys?"
Mr. Kecskerey blew himself out haughtily like a frog, and grunted in a
strangulated sort of voice, "My friend, for what do you take me, pray?
Am I your spy, that I should go ferreting into family secrets in order
to betray them to you? What sort of an opinion can you have of me?"
Abellino, with a feeling of satisfaction, launched the remainder of the
crumpled-up visiting-cards in his fist at Joko's head. He knew the
manners and customs of Mr. Kecskerey thoroughly. He was wont to fling
back every dishonourable commission and query with the utmost
indignation, into the face of their proposer, but he executed them all
the same, and reported accordingly.
"What business is it of mine what the Kárpáthys are doing? The world
says, however, that Madame Kárpáthy has a fresh lover every day. At one
time 'tis Count Erdey, at another 'tis Mike Kis. It says, too, that old
Squire John himself invites his cronies to Kárpátfalva, and is quite
delighted if his wife finds any among them worthy to be loved. He lets
her go visiting at the neighbouring villages with Mike Kis hundreds of
times, and much more is said to the same effect. But what has it all got
to do with me? I think as little of such things as of the dreams of my
baboon."
After this, Kecskerey, with the assistance of his little negro servant,
slowly proceeded with his dressing.
"Well, my dear friend," he resumed after a while, "so you have come back
from India, eh? I suppose you'll be a fixture in our little circle now,
and will honour my assemblies with your distinguished presence?"
"I am much obliged to you for the invitation, but I am no longer rich
enough to take part in them. Griffard refuses to lend me another sou,
and I am obliged to learn the science of economy like any other
Philistine."
"Ah, that's a pity for you, for you cannot find it very amusing. You
would do more wisely if you made it up with your uncle."
"I would rather be a bandit than a beggar."
"Take care you don't fall into a snare."
"What snare can you possibly imagine?"
"Your uncle is as much enamoured of his wife as ever, or I am greatly
mistaken."
"I rather incline to think that some one else may be enamoured of her."
"That would be somewhat singular."
"Why should you think so?"
"That old man has completely changed. He looks twenty years younger; one
scarcely recognizes him. He leads a regular life, and no doubt his
doctors are clever. Besides, it is a tradition in your family that the
ladies find the gentlemen amiable even in advanced old age. The day that
I encountered your kinswoman at Szolnok, I thought she looked happier
and more contented than I had ever seen her before."
"Hell and devils!" exclaimed Abellino, mad with rage. "What can be the
reason why this woman is so happy and contented? Her husband is
incapable, I'll swear, of making her so. There's falsehood, there's
fraud somehow."
"There _may_ be falsehood and fraud, my friend," replied Kecskerey,
coolly clasping one of his knees with both his hands, and swaying
himself to and fro in a rocking-chair.
"If I could only prove that that woman was in love with some one; if any
one were able to show the world in the clearest, the most sensational
manner that she had secret relations with anybody----"
"But, as a member of the family, that would naturally bring disgrace
upon you also."
"They are playing a game against me."
"It may be so. The old man is quite capable of overlooking his wife's
infidelity in order to do you out of the inheritance."
"But it cannot be, it cannot be! Our laws would not allow such a
scandal."
Kecskerey burst out laughing.
"My friend, if our laws were disposed to make very conscientious
investigations concerning the proper descent of all our great families,
endless confusion would arise in the making out of our family trees."
"But I tell you I will not allow a downtrodden beggar-woman to force her
way into an illustrious family, and rob the rightful heirs of their
inheritance by saddling her decrepit husband with brats that are the
fruit of her base amours."
At these words Kecskerey laughed louder than ever.
"Since your return you have become quite a moral man, I see. You would
have been glad to have had one of these same base-born brats yourself a
year ago."
"Joking apart, my friend, you see that I am a ruined man, a man whom
infernal intrigues have sent to the devil. If what I fear really
happens, I shall blow my brains out. I must find out at any price
something that will compromise Madame Kárpáthy before the law, and if
something of the sort cannot be discovered, it must be invented."
Kecskerey pulled a wry face.
"My dear friend, I know not why you say such things to me. Do I look
like a person competent to give advice in such matters? It is a serious
business, I assure you. I am very sorry, but you must do what you want
yourself. The Kárpáthys will reside here this winter. Do as you please,
corrupt their servants, set your creatures to their work, and get them
to lead the young woman astray and then betray her; plant your spies
about her, watch every step she takes, and put the affair in the hands
of sharp practitioners; but leave me in peace, I am a gentleman, I will
_not_ be a spy, or a well-feed Mephistopheles, or a hired Cicisbeo."
So the worthy gentleman hastened to wash from off him the least
suspicion of such a shady transaction, but nevertheless he showed
Abellino what to do. He protested against every attempt to draw an
opinion from him, but for all that he did his best to give an exhaustive
answer.
Abellino was very well pleased with him. New projects began to spring up
in his brain; he took up his hat and bade his friend a grateful adieu,
and so they parted with mutual assurances of a speedy _au revoir_.