UNPLEASANT DISCOVERIES.
It was the winter season at Pest. The Szentirmays had also arrived
there, and the beautiful countess and her worthy husband were the ideals
of the highest circles, and everybody tried hard to make their
acquaintance. But the greatest commotion of all was made by the arrival
of Mr. Kecskerey. Without him the whole winter season would have been
abominably dull. There was no mention even of balls and assemblies until
he came back again. Some men have a peculiar talent, a special faculty,
for arranging such things, and it was "our friend" Kecskerey's
speciality. The whole world of fashion called Kecskerey "our friend," so
it is only proper that we should give him the same title.
His first business was to get together a sufficient number of gentlemen
to form a club where only eminent and distinguished members of society
would assemble. Kecskerey himself was a singularly interesting person,
and when he had dressed himself for the evening, and laid himself out to
be agreeable, he had such a store of piquant anecdotes to draw upon, all
more or less personal experiences during his artistic ramblings, that
even the tea-tables were deserted and the witty gentleman was surrounded
by merry crowds of eager listeners.
Something particular was in the wind now, for there was a considerable
whispering among Kecskerey's _habitués_, and they let it be known that
should he be seen conversing with Abellino, it would be as well to be
within earshot, as something unusually interesting would be going on.
"Why, what great misfortune can have befallen Abellino that our friend
Kecskerey can speak of him so lightly?" inquired Livius, turning towards
Rudolf. "Generally speaking, he is in the habit of treating him with
greater respect in view of his ultimate claims to the Kárpáthy estates."
Rudolf shrugged his shoulders. What did it matter to him what befell
Abellino?
Look; now he is coming in! He had still that defiant, devil-may-care
step, that haughty, insolent look, as if the whole world were full of
his lackeys, that repellent beauty, for his features were as vacant as
they were handsome.
"Ah, good evening, Bélá; good evening, Bélá!" screeched our friend
Kecskerey, while Abellino was still some distance off; he did not move
from his place, but sat there with his arms embracing his legs like the
two of clubs as it is painted on old Hungarian cards.
Abellino went towards Kecskerey. He attributed the fact that he drew
after him a whole group of gentlemen, who quitted the tea-tables and the
whist-tables to crowd around him, to the particular respect of the
present company to himself personally.
"I congratulate you," cried Kecskerey, in a shrill nasal voice, waving
his hands towards Abellino.
"What for, you false club?"
Thus it was clear that Abellino also was struck by Kecskerey's great
resemblance to the historical playing-card already mentioned, and this
sally brought the laughter over to his side.
"Don't you know that I have just come from nunky, my dear?"
"Ah, that's another matter," said Abellino, in a somewhat softer voice.
"And what, pray, is the dear old gentleman up to now?"
"That's just where my congratulations come in. All at home send you
their best greetings, kisses, and embraces. The old gentleman is as
sound as an acorn, or as a ripe apple freshly plucked from the tree.
Don't be in the least concerned on his account; your uncle feels
remarkably well. But your aunt is sick, very sick, and to all appearance
she will be sicker still."
"Poor auntie!" said Abellino. "No doubt," thought he to himself, "that
is why he congratulates me; and good news, too. No wonder he
congratulates me. Perhaps she'll even die--who knows?--And what's the
matter with her?" he asked aloud.
"Ah, she is in great danger. I assure you, my friend, that when last I
saw her, the doctors had prohibited both riding and driving."
Even now the real state of things would not have occurred to Abellino's
mind, had not a couple of quicker-witted gentlemen, who had come there
for the express purpose of laughing, and were therefore on the alert for
the point of the jest, suddenly laughed aloud. Then, all at once, light
flashed into his brain.
"A thousand devils! You are speaking the truth now, I suppose?"
His face could not hide the fury which boiled up within him.
"Why, how else should I have cause to congratulate you?" said Kecskerey,
laughing.
"Oh, it is infamous!" exclaimed Abellino, beside himself.
The bystanders began to pity him, and the softer-hearted among them
quietly dispersed. It was a horrible thought that this man, who on
entering the room had believed himself to be the master of millions,
should have been plunged back into poverty by a few words.
Kecskerey alone had no pity for him. He never pitied any one who was
unfortunate; he reserved all his sympathy for the prosperous.
"Then there's nothing more to be done," murmured Abellino, between his
teeth, "unless it be to kill myself or that woman."
Kecskerey's strident rasping voice seemed to cut clean through that
desperate murmur.
"If you want to kill or be killed, my friend, I should advise you to
read Pitaval,[11] wherein you will find all sorts and kinds of tips for
murderers, including lists of poisons both vegetable and mineral, a
liberal choice of weapons of every description, and the best means of
disposing of the _corpus delecti_ afterwards, either by submersion,
combustion, dissection, or inhumation. The whole twelve volumes is a
little library of itself, and a man who reads it patiently through to
the end will easily persuade himself that he is a born murderer. I
recommend the matter to your attention. Ho, ho, ho!"
[Footnote 11: The allusion, no doubt, is to F. G. de Pitaval's "Causes
célèbres et intéressantes."--TR.]
To all this Abellino paid no attention. "Who can be this woman's lover?"
said he.
"Look around you, my friend, and choose for yourself."
"At least I should like to recognize and kill him."
"I am absolutely sure I know who her lover is," remarked Kecskerey.
"Who?" asked Abellino, with sparkling eyes. "Oh, that man I _should_
like to know!"
Kecskerey, who was having rare sport with him, drew his neck down
between his shoulders, and continued--"How many times have I not seen
you fall upon his neck, and kiss and embrace him!"
"Who is it, who is it?" cried Abellino, catching hold of Kecskerey's
arm.
"Would you like to know?"
"I should."
"Then it is--her husband."
"This is a stupid jest," cried Abellino, quite forgetting himself; "and
nobody will believe it. That woman loves somebody, loves some one with
shameful self-abandonment. And that old scoundrel, her husband, knows
and suffers it in order to gratify his vengeance on me. But I will find
out who he is, I will find out who it is if it be the devil himself, and
I will bring a scandalous action against this woman, the like of which
the world has never yet seen."
At that moment a loud manly voice rang out amidst the group of listeners
who were beginning to rally Abellino, and ironically beg him not to
suspect them as they were quite innocent, and could not lay claim to the
honour of making Madame Kárpáthy happy.
"Gentlemen," it said, "you forget that it is not becoming in men of
breeding to make ribald jests about the name of a lady whom nobody in
the world has any cause or any right to traduce."
"What, Rudolf! Why, what interest have you in the matter?" inquired the
astonished Kecskerey.
"This much--I am a man and will not allow a woman whom I respect to be
vilified in my presence."
That was saying a great deal, and there was no blinking it, not only
because Rudolf was right and enjoyed the best of reputations, but also
because he was known to be the best shot and swordsman in the place, and
cool-headed and lucky to boot.
So from henceforth Madame Kárpáthy's name ceased to be alluded to in the
club.