THE TEMPTATION.
The carriages, set on runners, were too heavy to go rapidly over the bad
mountain roads. At the first station, the caravan was overtaken by a
sledge in pursuit; this did not stop at their carriages, but passed them
by. In the sledge sat Grazian, and the figure enveloped in furs beside
him was of course his daughter. Idalia looked out of the windows of her
carriage: "Good morning, lovely lady," called out Lord Grazian, in an
excess of spirits, "I will go ahead as quartermaster." His meaning was
too clear. Idalia's travelling party was large, and could only make four
or five German miles a day, so that Grazian going in advance "as
quartermaster" would take for himself the accommodations in the large
castles, which she was counting on for herself and her retinue. An open
hospitality still prevailed in that country, and travellers found in
every castle an open gate, good beds, and abundant table, with a cordial
welcome from the master of the house. But the accommodations in the
villages were quite different. The servants with their horses were
provided with straw, and the family themselves were cramped into a low,
small room, with floor of earth, and lighted by a miserable candle,
while their fare was coarse bread and cheese. The little sledge going
ahead closed every castle against Idalia and her party, by spreading the
news of this great scandal that had fallen upon the widow. On the way
back, Idalia could not stay with any of her acquaintances. She must stay
outside, bag and baggage in her carriage at the end of the village, or
must pass her night in the forest, in the small hut of some cheese
dealer. Through the long winter night, this noble lady must lie on the
straw, wrapped in her travelling cloak, with the priest and the sleeping
child. There they were like two comrades who fall asleep quarrelling,
and wake up quarrelling.
"In spite of your shame, _you_ can sleep? They said to your face that as
a priest you were a fraud, as a knight you were a failure; neither
priest nor knight. How they disgraced us in the presence of so many
people! Like a hunchback, they threw it in my face that you were my
lover, and you stood there like a pillar of salt and did not say that it
was true or untrue. I looked at you just to see what you would do;
whether you would take counsel of your heart. You looked about you; the
dancers' swords were together in a corner; perhaps you would seize me,
cast your cowl from you and say, 'It is true, I am Tihamer Csorbai, and
that woman there is my wife, and he who dares come between us is a dead
man.' You did not do so. On the contrary, you gazed toward Heaven. I
waited patiently to see if you would say, 'I am Father Peter, I am a
priest, and on my priestly oath I say she is free from my love,--if she
were as free from other sins, she might be counted among the saints.'
But this too you did not do. You dropped your head when the Bishop
called out at you. And you submitted when the other monks struck at you
with their scourges. Oh, how detestable you were! If you really had been
my lover, I would have spit at you--in your face--yes, right in your
face! Behind your back, they said that you were not worthy of the name
of priest, that you were no priest and never had been one, and even if
you had, they would have driven you out; you were a timid, cowardly
soldier who endured the scourge because he feared the sword. What will
you do now? Will you creep behind the cross that Christ Himself may
drive you away? Will you let them beat this monk's cowl of yours from
town to town? Do your vows require you to bring your priesthood into
disgrace, and become a stone of offence at sight of which every one
stands aside, even if they are in the height of the dance; and at sight
of whom the common people will flee from the church when they see you at
the altar?"
And then again:
"Can you sleep? Why not? It is an easy thing for a man to choke down
disgrace. But I am a woman, and I am lying on scorpions. In the presence
of the noblest of the land you made me an object of scorn to the whole
world. There will be the report of it everywhere. The beggar-student
will sing my story from window to window. Peddlers will carry from
village to village the story of Father Peter and the Lady of Madocsany,
and hawk it about for two denarii, pictures thrown in. What a disgrace!
You can hide yourself away under your cowl, that is a good place for
you! But where shall I hide myself? How can I endure the glance of
people--that constant blow in the face? Where shall I shut myself in, so
that no human being can find me? Where shall I lose myself, so that even
I cannot find me? How shall I live or die on these thorns? What's that
to you--do you say? Ha ha! You say God has punished me, and you are
satisfied. You drawl out your prayers and fall asleep over them."
And then again:
"Are you awake? The cock is crowing, the day is dawning at last. The
night is long for those who cannot close their eyes. Why do you avoid
talking with me? I despise you from the bottom of my heart. If you were
as great a jewel as you are a piece of clay, I would not reach out my
hand to take you up. Keep your love for the angels, or for Beelzebub, it
is all one to me. All I ask from you is my honor. If you are a man of
honor, if you are a Christian, you must know what your duty is. The
offence was an open one, and it must be openly satisfied. Listen to me,
and then consider at your leisure. You and I will go over to the
Protestant church. We will go to Saros-Patak, or to Klausenburg, and
there this can take place without delay. The six weeks' instruction is
superfluous. We will marry. I need nothing more except your name--the
name still honored. You surely do not want all the world to call me Mrs.
Father Peter. You are not Emerich Thurzo; his wife can be called Mrs.
Bishop, night or day, but Mrs. Monk--no one can say that by daylight.
The price for my torn veil is the cap of Mrs. Tihamer Csorbai. Beyond
that, I do not care whether you love me, or do not love me, or whether
you love another. You can go away, when you cannot stand it any longer,
or you can stay. It does not matter to me what you answer; my decision
is made; in defiance of the Bishop, I am going to be a Calvinist; and I
am going to marry a second time, if not you, then somebody else; but it
is fitting that I should recover my honor by the man by whom I lost it.
But I will not beseech you any longer. Do not be afraid that I shall
crawl after you on my hands and knees. Two words can separate us; if you
say, 'No, No,' then I say, 'Nor I, either,' and you shall never enter my
gate again. To the threshold you may come, and I will count out to you
your money, and then we will never breathe the same air again."
Father Peter was terrified at these words. If Idalia drove him out of
the castle, then he could have no further meetings with Magdalene, for
the only entrance to the subterranean passage was from the castle; and
in his brain important plans were forming; he must without fail speak
with Magdalene. She will come to the familiar place and expect him
Sunday nights.
"What you have said is serious, and requires time for consideration.
Give me two Sundays that I may take counsel with the one who guides my
fate."
Idalia though that Father Peter referred to the wise Counsellor of all,
but he really meant Magdalene.
"Very well, I will wait two Sundays, but then you are to give me a
definite answer."
"Yes."
"An answer that swerves neither to right nor left."
"It shall be either wise or foolish. Whatever it is, it shall be that
wholly."
"By your monk's vows?"
"I vow it on my word of honor as a knight."
At this the lady began to weep violently, and her sobs awakened the
sleeping boy.
"Why do you weep, mother?" he asked in fear.
Idalia pressed him to her heart. "I am weeping for you, my poor little
orphan, my only treasure, my angel;" and with each tender name, she
covered the child's cheek with kisses and tears while she pressed him
close to her throbbing heart.
"Does he love me already,--my father?" stammered the child, nestling
closer to his mother. "He loves you surely, for you kiss and embrace me
again."
"We shall soon find out," Idalia whispered in his ear, and sighed
deeply.
Soon the whispering ceased. Father Peter heard the deep breathing of
mother and child, and the loud beating of his own heart.
Outside the cock crowed for the third time. Was it not Peter's
cock,--the first Peter?