LIGHT WITHOUT AND NIGHT WITHIN.
Yet it had to be.
Madame Kárpáthy had promised her friend to share her labours as hostess
on the occasion of the feast in honour of her husband's installation as
Lord-Lieutenant, just as Lady Szentirmay had shared hers before the
fox-hunt. She had vainly tortured her brain for a whole fortnight in
order that she might find an excuse to release her from her promise, and
not one could she find. Unfortunately, she was so well that she could
not even complain on that score. What she feared above all happened.
Flora did not forget the promise that had been made, and when the great
day was only a week off, she wrote to her friend that she should rely
upon her at the end of that time. And so for a whole week Fanny,
resigned to her fate, but with the torment of her secret passion in her
bosom, suffered in silence at the thought of going to the house of him
whom she loved as her soul's ideal, but who would not have been too far
away from her, so she thought, if he had lived in another planet.
Flora welcomed her friend with great joy, her satisfaction was
unmistakably visible on her honest, lovely face as she pressed Fanny
between her arms. Rudolf's manner was kindly and courtly, but nothing
more. He was glad to see his pretty neighbour in his house and anxious
to make her comfortable, but she did not interest him in the very
least.
And indeed Fanny herself found the situation much less dangerous than
she had imagined. Ideals, especially ideals of the masculine gender, in
their domestic circles lose very much of the nimbus which they carry
about with them elsewhere. At home you hear them whistle and shout, and
bully their servants and domestics, and see them immersed in everyday
household affairs. You see them eat and drink and look bored. You see
them with imperfect or unaccomplished toilets, and often with muddy
boots, especially when they look after their own horses. You begin to
realize that ideals also are as much subject to the petty necessities of
life as ordinary men, and do not always preserve the precise postures
you are wont to see them in when their portraits adorn the
picture-galleries. With women it is quite different. Woman is born to
beautify the domestic circle, woman is always fascinating whether she be
dressed up or domestically dowdy, but man is least of all fascinating at
home.
In a word, Fanny felt the danger to be much less when it was actually
before her than it had seemed to be when seen from afar, and she looked
at Rudolf much more calmly with her bodily eyes than she had been wont
to do with the eyes of her imagination.
Thus the first week which Fanny spent at Szentirmay Castle was by no
means so very painful, and after that Rudolf had to go to the capital
from whence he was only to return on the day before the installation.
Meanwhile the two ladies, with the utmost forethought, were arranging
everything for the approaching festivities, and whatever one of them
forgot was sure to occur to the other. Fanny began to find her position
more and more natural; every day she began to gain a greater command
over her tender emotions, and indeed life, practical life, makes
possible and comprehensible much which poetical logic and the
imagination label--absurd.
On the day of the installation, Lady Szentirmay and Madame Kárpáthy
drove over to the county town where lodgings had been provided for the
former's husband as Governor-General, at the town-hall.
Szentirmay wished his installation to be conducted with as little pomp
and ceremony as possible. The most eminent ladies of the county watched
the procession from the balcony, and Madame Kárpáthy also was among
them. It was difficult to recognize any one in particular among all
those holiday faces, such a different aspect did their Oriental gravity
and splendid Oriental _Köntöses_ give them. Several of the younger
cavaliers saluted the ladies with their swords.
At length the carriage of the _Foispán_ came in sight with a clattering
escort of twelve knightly horsemen. He himself was sitting bareheaded in
the open carriage, and something like emotion was visible on his
handsome noble face. Loud cries of "Éljen! éljen!" announced his
approach. Every one knew of him by hearsay as the noblest of men, and
every one rejoiced that the best of patriots and the most excellent of
citizens should have attained the highest dignity in the county. Madame
Kárpáthy looked at him tremblingly, better for her if she had never seen
him like this.
The procession passed across the square to the gate of the town-hall,
and half an hour later Rudolf was standing in the large assembly-room
filling it with his sublime impassioned words, till all who heard felt
their hearts leap towards him. Madame Kárpáthy also heard him, she was
in the gallery. Ah, it would have been better had she neither seen nor
heard him there. Now she not merely loved, she adored him.
All at once she began to notice that somebody in the assembly-hall below
was making frantic signs to her with hands and head, and using every
available limb to attract her attention; nay, he even got upon a chair
in order to be able to see her better. At first she did not recognize
the man, but presently the disagreeable recollection thrilled through
her that she had seen him before somewhere, and she regarded him more
closely with a look of aversion--it was Mr. Kecskerey.
Why, what could have brought that worthy man thither, for it was not his
way to put himself to any inconvenience without very good reason.
The sight of this man made a very disagreeable impression upon Fanny,
and jarred upon her nerves. Every time she looked at him she perceived,
much to her indignation, that his eyes were fixed constantly upon her.
The official ceremonies were generally terminated by a magnificent
banquet during which the assembly-room with magical rapidity was
converted into a dancing-room, to which the guests then returned.
The best and bonniest of the whole country-side were together, the most
illustrious of the men and the loveliest of the women.
Rudolf opened the ball with the Princess * * * who was considered the
most important personage present amongst the ladies, and then danced
with all the other women in turn, according to rank. How Fanny trembled,
and how her heart began to beat, when she saw him approaching her. Lady
Szentirmay had just been carried off by some young cavalier for a waltz,
and she was sitting there alone.
Rudolf politely walked up to her, and with a deep bow invited her to
dance. Oh, how beautiful he was! Fanny durst not regard him at that
moment. Rudolf bending half over her, offered her his arm.
Poor lady, she was scarce able to utter these few words: "I am not
allowed to dance, my lord. I have been very ill."
He could not but believe what she said, as she was as pale at that
moment as if she were about to descend into the tomb.
Rudolf expressed his regret in a few courtly words, and then retired.
For some time afterwards Fanny durst not raise her eyes, as if she
fancied he was still standing before her. At last, however, she did look
up, and the eyes that met her gaze were--Mr. Kecskerey's.
"The Madonna of Mount Carmel, for all the world!" said that worthy
cavalier, saluting her _chapeau-bas_, and confidently drawing still
nearer.
Fanny hastily pulled herself together. She had the foreboding that she
must hide her very soul from the scrutiny of this man; so she accepted
his salutation with a cold smile, and made as if she were not afraid of
him.
"What a loss it is to the company that your ladyship does not dance, but
what a gain to me who, also, do not dance," said the hero, with
impertinent familiarity. And he sat down beside Lady Kárpáthy as if he
were an intimate friend, throwing back his dress-coat on both sides, and
nursing one of his legs in both hands. "Will it bore your ladyship if we
have a little talk together?"
"I am a good listener."
"During the last few days a joyous rumour has flashed through our
capital which has made every one happy who has heard it."
"What rumour is that?"
"That your ladyship intends to spend the coming winter in the capital."
"It is not yet certain."
"You drive me to despair. Surely, my friend Kárpáthy is not such an
ungallant husband? Why, he should fly to execute his wife's wishes!"
"I have never told anybody that I wanted to reside at Pest."
"The lady is secretive," thought Kecskerey. "I know that they are making
their palace at Pest habitable. We shall get to the bottom of it
presently."
"Yet the Pest saloons will be very attractive this winter, and we shall
form some very elegant sets. The Szépkiesdys are coming up, and we may
also expect to see there Count Gergely with his mother, young Eugene
Darvay, the handsome Rezsö Csendey, and that genial prince of buffoons,
Mike Kis."
Fanny toyed indifferently with her fan; not one of all these persons
interested her in the least.
"And I know it as a fact, that our fêted friend Rudolf is also going to
spend the winter there, with his handsome wife."
Hah! what impression will that make? Will she be able to conceal the
smarting pain she felt at that moment? But no, she did not betray
herself; she merely said, "I don't fancy we shall go to Pest."
With that she rose from her seat. The dance was over, and Flora,
hastening to her friend, passed her arm round her waist, and they took a
turn together round the room.
Mr. Kecskerey began to rock himself gently to and fro on the sofa and
draw conclusions.
"Why did she sigh so deeply when she said, 'I don't fancy we shall go to
Pest'?"
Just then Rudolf drew near, and Mr. Kecskerey seizing his opportunity,
put his arm through Rudolf's, and paced with him up and down the
splendid saloon, as if they had been the very best friends in the world.
And here we should do well to remember that Mr. Kecskerey was a
personage of remarkable consideration in the highest circles, and
enjoyed a position of distinction there peculiarly his own.
The worthy cavalier--I mean Mr. Kecskerey--had just drawn Rudolf
underneath a chandelier, whether that people might see them together
there, or whether he himself might see Rudolf better, I cannot say. The
two young belles, the queens of the ball, were walking in front of them,
arm-in-arm. How beautiful they both were!
"What a pair!" cried Kecskerey, rapturously. "To which of them would
that wretched mythological Paris have given the apple of Eris, if he had
had to choose between two such goddesses? And how they walk, arm-in-arm.
A true _belle alliance_! Nay, I express myself badly, I ought to say
_affreuse alliance_! Why, separately they are capable of subjugating the
world! Why need they combine their charms? My friend, beware of this
dangerous alliance; Madame Kárpáthy is a splendid woman."
"My wife is the prettier," replied Rudolf, with mild self-satisfaction.
"I honour you for that word, Rudolf. You are indeed a tender husband!
But your wife really is an angel. Madame Kárpáthy pales before her. Hers
is not the beauty which can interest men of genius, she is too
sensitive."
"Nay, nay; I will not have you depreciate her in order to cry up my
wife. On the contrary, I admit that Madame Kárpáthy is a very beautiful
woman; indeed to some person's tastes, she might appear the ideal of
loveliness."
"Yes, true; poor Abellino, for instance, at one time, would scarce allow
that a more beautiful woman had been born into the world since Helen of
Troy or Ninon d'Enclos. He was quite mad about her; ruined himself, in
fact, because of her. He spent sixty thousand florins upon her."
"What do you mean by that?" inquired Rudolf, much offended.
Kecskerey laughed good-humouredly. "Ma foi! that is a vain question from
you, Rudolf. As if you did not know that it is usual to spend something
on young women."
"But I know exactly what happened to Abellino when he forced six hundred
florins into the girl's hand, and the manner in which she flung them
back in his face was equivalent, among friends, to at least three boxes
on the ears. I remember it well, because it led to a duel, and I was one
of the seconds of Abellino's opponent."
"Ah ça, that's true! But you know how often it happens that when one has
flung back a paltry five or six hundred florins between the eyes of the
giver, one does not do the same with sixty thousand florins, when
offered afterwards. I do not say this from any wish to injure Madame
Kárpáthy, for, of course, nothing happened between them. But it is true,
nevertheless, that she accepted the offer, and promised her dear mother,
worthy Mrs. Meyer, that she would listen to Abellino's words, or to his
sixty thousand florins, which is the same thing; and when luck
unexpectedly suggested to old Jock that he should sue for her hand, in
order to spite his nephew, the girl had sense enough to choose the
better of two good offers, and accepted him. But not for all the world
would I say anything ill of her. She is a lady of position and
altogether blameless; but, for that very reason, I do not see why one or
other of us might not have tried his luck with her."
At that moment several other acquaintances came up to Rudolf, and
claimed him; so he parted from Kecskerey. But henceforward an unusual
air of disquietude was visible on his face, and as often as he
encountered his wife, who never left Madame Kárpáthy for an instant, an
unpleasant feeling took possession of him, and he thought to himself,
"That is a woman who might have been won with sixty thousand florins."
And then he reflected that, in the course of the evening, Kecskerey
would tell the same pretty story to a dozen or more other men; so that
within an hour's time the whole company would know all about it, and at
the same time see his wife walking about with this woman, and talking
and whispering to her familiarly. What cared he for Madame Kárpáthy? She
might be as beautiful again as she really was, for aught that he cared;
but he reflected that she might cast a shadow on his own wife, his
adored, his idolized wife, and this reflection disturbed him. Why had he
ever allowed her to make this woman's acquaintance? Flora was so
kind-hearted that she would have raised this woman up to her own level;
but she never reflected that this woman had a shady past, and that her
own good name might be soiled by contact with her.
Of course he knew that it was Kecskerey's habit to run down every one
unmercifully, but he also knew that he vouched for everything he said.
Whatever he said of anybody was never actually false. He did not
circulate downright libels, but he had the knack of probing down into
the deepest hidden secret shame of every one he knew.
As soon as the ball was over, Rudolf hastened to seek out his wife. His
servants told him that she had already retired to her bedroom. He
knocked at the door, and, hearing her voice, entered.
Flora was still in full ball-dress; her maid was doing up her hair.
"May I have a word with you?" inquired Rudolf, peeping through the door.
Flora, with a smile, dismissed the maid; and Rudolf embraced his wife,
and impressed a burning, a lover's kiss on her radiant face.
"Ah, stop!" cried Flora, hastily, disengaging herself from the
encircling arms. "Are you not aware that I am very angry with you?"
Well, at any rate, it was very amiable of the dear wife to allow herself
to be kissed first, and then only to recollect that she was angry.
"May I know how I have offended?"
"You have been very discourteous to me to-day. The whole evening you
have not deigned to speak to me. Ten times, at least, I have purposely
passed by where Rudolf was standing, and Rudolf took not the slightest
notice of me."
While she was saying these words Rudolf succeeded in securing one of the
threatening little hands, and, placing it first to his lips and then to
his breast, compelled his beloved wife to sit down beside him again on
the sofa.
"Let me make good my fault," said he. "For three hours I have not been
near you, therefore for three days I will not quit your side, although I
know that in that case it will be the innocent party who bears the
punishment."
"Ah, Rudolf, that was but a poor jest, I don't like such witticisms. I
want you to give an account of yourself. Why are you in such a bad
humour?"
"There was something unpleasant in the installation speeches."
"Ah, my friend, that won't do; you don't deceive me. You would tell me a
falsehood, eh? You would lie in despite of that honest open face of
yours, in spite of those transparent eyes? And you would lie to me, who
exchanged souls with you? It cannot be so; tell me the truth!"
Rudolf's face grew serious, he fell a-thinking, but presently he
replied--
"Don't let us talk about it now."
"Why not?"
"It would take too long."
"Ah, Rudolf is sleepy! Poor Rudolf is afraid the conversation would go
on for ever. Well, good night, dear Rudolf. If you want to go and sleep,
send in my maid again!"
At these words Rudolf arose, bowed, and prepared to go in real earnest.
Then, naturally, it was the wife's turn to give way.
"Well, remain then, I was only joking," said she. "Even now, you see,
you are inclined to be ill-tempered--one may not even jest with you.
Come here now, and we will play at guessing riddles. Let us lay a wager
that I find out what is the matter with you?"
"Let us see," replied Rudolf, making himself comfortable on the sofa,
while Flora leaned her head on his breast, and began counting off her
guesses on her fingers.
"You have been listening to gossip?"
"Something of the sort."
"About whom?"
"Oh, if I were to tell, the riddle would be at an end. You must guess."
"About me?"
"Anybody who would circulate gossip about you would have to be endowed
with a very lively imagination."
"About whom then?"
"Don't worry me. I will tell you. I came here, indeed, resolved to tell
you; but then I thought it might disturb you, and I take you to witness
that I only come out with it after the most rigorous inquisition on your
part. It does not please me, nay--more than that, it disquiets me to see
you so very friendly with Madame Kárpáthy."
"Ah!" So astounded was Flora, that that was all she could say. It was
the last thing in the world she had expected to hear. "This really is
surprising!" she exclaimed at last. "Another husband would only have
been afraid of his wife's intercourse with men: you present the very
first example of a husband who is afraid of his wife's women-friends
likewise."
"It is because I love you so. My love of you is so devoted, so
idolatrous, that I would have every one who sees and knows you approach
you with a reverence, a homage equal to mine own. Not even in thought
must any one dare to sin against you."
"And do I give cause to the contrary?"
"You do not, but your surroundings do; and this Kárpáthy woman has a
very equivocal reputation."
"Rudolf, my good Rudolf, why are you so incensed against this poor
woman? If you only knew her, you would say there was not a more
honourable woman in the whole world."
"I know all about her; and you, from sheer compassion, have made her a
present of your heart. Your sympathy does you honour, but the world has
an opinion of this woman very different from yours: in the world's
opinion she is frivolous enough."
"The world is unjust."
"Not altogether, perhaps. This woman has a past, and there is much in
that past which justifies the world's judgment."
"But in her present there is much which contradicts that judgment. This
woman's present conduct is worthy of all respect."
Rudolf tenderly stroked the head of his consort.
"My dear Flora, you are a child; there is much you do not understand,
and will not understand. In the world there are ideas, ugly,
extraordinary ideas, of which your pure, childlike mind can form no
notion."
"Oh, don't suppose me so simple! I know everything. I know that Fanny's
sisters were very bad, unprincipled women, and that only the energy of
good kinsfolk saved Fanny herself from being betrayed and ruined. I know
that in the eyes of the world hers is a very dubious record; but I also
know that, so long as I hold that woman's hand in mine, the world will
not dare to reproach, will not dare to condemn her; and the thought of
it makes me proud and well pleased."
"And suppose you are attacked?"
"I don't understand."
"Suppose they say of you what they say of her, that you are a frivolous,
flighty woman?"
"Without cause?"
"Not without cause. She lives in the midst of a band of empty-headed
men, who certainly have no particular regard for a woman's reputation.
And you, in consequence of your intimacy with Madame Kárpáthy, rub
shoulders every day with her acquaintances, and will also be taken for a
light, frivolous, frail sort of woman."
"I a light, frail, frivolous woman!" cried Flora, visibly wounded; but
the moment afterwards she shrugged her shoulders. "It matters not.
Rather let the whole world be unjust to me, than that I should be unjust
to any one. And, after all, why should I care about the world, when you
are the whole world to me? Let everybody regard me as a light woman for
Madame Kárpáthy's sake; so long as you do not, I care nothing about the
others."
"And if I, also, considered you as much?"
Flora sprang up from Rudolf's side in amazement.
"Rudolf! think what you are saying. Are you serious?"
"Yes, I am serious."
Flora reflected for an instant, then she said decidedly--
"Very well, Rudolf, I assure you that I am neither frivolous nor
weak--weak not even in respect to you." And with that she sprang to the
bell-rope and pulled it violently three times.
The maid entered.
"Netti, you will sleep in here with me to-night."
Rudolf looked at his wife with the greatest surprise.
"This is a sentence of banishment, eh?"
"It is."
"For how long?"
"Until you withdraw your words."
Rudolf smilingly kissed her hand and quitted the room; but he lay down
in a very bad humour, and it was a long time before he could go to
sleep. Often he was on the point of starting up, hastening to her room,
begging her pardon, and giving her a written assurance under his hand
and seal that women are the strongest, the most determined creatures in
the world, and that there never was and never will be such a thing as a
frivolous, frail young woman--but the self-respect of a husband always
restrained him. It was not right that he should surrender so soon. He
must show that if his wife had strength of mind enough to dismiss him,
his strength of mind was not less than hers. On the morrow she would
certainly be the first to plead guilty of contumacy; and with thoughts
like these he went to sleep.