CHILDISH NONSENSE
Meanwhile Hátszegi continued to call every day, dividing his attention
equally between the widow and Henrietta; and at the end of a fortnight
everyone was charmed with his personal qualities. It could not be denied
that he was a delightful companion, always merry, lively, frank, and
entertaining. He even made the old gentleman laugh aloud more than once;
in fact Demetrius Lapussa grew quite impatient if Hátszegi was five
minutes late. Mr. John was more delighted with him than ever. They took
walks together, invariably drove in the same carriage to the park, and
John was to be seen every night in the baron's box at the theatre,
talking at the top of his voice so that everybody might become aware of
the fact. Nay, he succeeded, through the courtesy of his new friend, in
making the acquaintance of one or two magnates who subsequently lifted
their hats to John in the street and thus gratified the dearest desire
of his heart.
The enquiries made about Hátszegi also proved extremely satisfactory. He
was certainly sound and solid financially, had never had a bill
dishonoured, had no dealings with usurers, always paid cash and was
never even in temporary embarrassment, as is so often the case with most
landed proprietors when the crops fail. In fact, he seemed to have
unlimited funds constantly at his disposal and to be scarcely less
wealthy than old Lapussa himself.
So far then, everything was as it should be, and everyone was enchanted
with him personally.
But what of Henrietta, the intended bride?
Oh! she was not even consulted in the matter; it is not usual, and
besides she had neither mind nor will enough to have a voice in so
important a matter as the disposal of her hand. Nay, she was not even
told that she was going to be married. She only got an inkling of it
from various phenomena that struck her from time to time, such as the
polite attentions of the baron, the whispering of the domestics, the
altered attitude towards her of the various members of the family--who
now addressed her in the tone you employ when speaking to a baroness
that is to be. And then there was Clementina's chatter! Clementina was
now for ever talking of all the sewing and stitching that had to be done
for the young lady, and of the frightful quantities of linen and lace
and silk that were being made up into dresses and other garments. Six
seamstresses were hard at work, she said, and she was helping them and
yet they had to make night into day in order to get the necessary things
ready in time.
So gradually they accustomed her to the idea of it, till at last one
day Madame Langai took her aside and lectured her solemnly as to the
duties of women in general and of women of rank in particular, pointing
out at the same time how much such women owed to their own families for
looking after and providing for them and expressing the hope that
Henrietta would be duly grateful to the end of her days to _her_
family--from all which she was able to gather that any opposition on her
part would not be tolerated for a moment.
The day was already fixed for the exchange of the bridal rings, but the
night before that day, Henrietta suddenly fell ill, and, what is more,
dangerously ill, so that they had to run off for the family physician
incontinently. The doctor was much struck by the symptoms of the illness
and the first thing he did was to make the patient swallow a lot of milk
and oil. Then he drove the servants headlong to the chemist's, and
descending into the kitchen closely examined every copper vessel there
by candle light, scolded the cook and the scullery maids till they were
in tears, and terrified Clementina by telling her she was the cause of
it all to the speechless confusion of the innocent creature. Not content
with this, he made his way at once to Mr. Demetrius's room and there
cross-examined everyone with the acerbity of an Old Bailey judge. What
had the young lady been in the habit of eating and drinking? They must
fetch what had been left over from her meals, he must see and examine
everything. What had she eaten yesterday evening? Preserves? Then what
sort of sugar was used, and where was the spoon? He insisted on seeing
everything.
"But doctor," whined old Lapussa, "you surely don't mean to say that the
child has been poisoned?"
"I do indeed, and with copper oxide too."
"How is that possible?"
"Why, simply because some of her food, preserve, for instance, has been
allowed to stand too long in a copper or silver vessel and copperas has
been developed."
The old man did not know enough of chemistry to understand how copperas
could be developed from silver, but he was seriously alarmed.
"I hope there's no danger?" said he.
"It is a good job you sent for me when you did," replied the doctor,
"for otherwise she would have been dead before morning. Copperas is a
very dangerous poison, and if it gets into one's food in large
quantities there is practically no antidote. A vigorous constitution,
indeed, has a good chance of throwing it off; but, taking into
consideration the state of the young lady's nerves and her general
debility, I should say that her case was downright dangerous; anyhow she
will be ailing for some time."
"Oh, doctor, doctor! and we all love Hetty so much, she is the very
light of our eyes! I cannot tell you how anxious I am, on her account I
should be so glad, doctor, if you could stay with her night and day and
never leave the house. I would richly recompense you."
"I will do all I can, though I can't do that, and unless any unforeseen
accident arise, I think I can answer for the result. But one thing I
must insist upon, all these copper and silver vessels of yours must go
to the devil. I'll come to-morrow and examine thoroughly the whole lot
of them by daylight. The health of the family must not be endangered by
such recklessness. And let me tell your honour something else. Are you
aware that your honour's business-man, Mr. Sipos, who is only a lawyer
and, therefore, can ill afford to do so in comparison with your honour,
are you aware, I say, that he has on this very occasion sent all his
copper vessels to the lumber-room?"
"On this occasion! what do you mean?" enquired the old man eagerly.
"I mean that I have just come from him and a similar case has happened
in his house. His assistant--a fine young fellow, you know him,
perhaps?--has also been poisoned by copperas. I have only this instant
quitted him."
"What an odd coincidence."
"Very odd, indeed. Two exactly similar cases of poisoning at the same
time and all because copper vessels were used and not properly cleaned."
"And how is the young man progressing? Is he out of danger?"
"Fortunately; although at the outset his was an even worse case than the
young lady's. But then he is so much stronger. Well, good-bye! I will
look in again to-morrow."
"But I should be so much easier, doctor, if you never left my
grandchild's side."
"I would willingly do even that if I had not other patients in the town
to attend to."
"Could you not entrust them to someone else?"
"Impossible. My reputation would be at stake. Besides I do not often
have the chance of studying two such interesting parallel cases of
poisoning at the same time."
"Very well, doctor. All I ask of you is to cure our little one."
"I hope to save the pair of them. And now I'll go up and have a look at
her, and then I must return to Mr. Sipos's house. But I shall be here
again in an hour or so."
And with that the old man had to be content.
During the whole course of Henrietta's illness he sent to enquire after
his grandchild every hour. Clementina and an old maid-servant took it in
turns to watch by her bedside. It was strictly forbidden to leave
Henrietta alone for an instant, and Mr. Demetrius gave special orders
that her brother Koloman was not to be allowed to approach within six
paces of her bed because he was sure to bring cold air into the room, or
convey to her surreptitiously something which she ought not to have and
behave like a blockhead generally. So he was obliged to keep his
distance.
At last when weeks and weeks had flown by, God and blessed nature
helped the doctor to triumph over the effects of the poison. Henrietta
slowly began to mend. She was still very weak, but the doctor assured
them that she was quite out of danger and that the little capricious
fancies of convalescence might now be safely humoured.
Madame Langai, in the doctor's presence, asked the sick girl whether
there was anything in particular she would like, any food she fancied,
any pastime she preferred.
The pale, delicate-looking child languidly cast down her eyes as if she
would say: "I should like to lie in the grave--deep, deep, down." But
what she really did say was: "I should like to read something. I feel so
dull."
"That I cannot allow," said the doctor, "it would make your head ache,
but I have no objection to someone reading to you some nice, amusing
novel, Dickens's "Pickwick Papers," for instance, or a story of
Marryat's, something light and amusing, I mean, which will not excite
you too much."
"I should like that," said Henrietta and the choice fell on the
"Pickwick Papers." But as the English governess complained that she
could never read aloud for ten minutes at a time without growing hoarse
and Clementina's eyes were too weak for any such office, it was
suggested that Margari should be asked to submit to this extra
sacrifice, and Clementina succeeded in persuading him to do so by
promising him a liberal reward. So she brought him back with her and
seated him behind a curtain so that he could not see the invalid (that
would have been scarcely proper), and put the book into his hand.
But scarcely had Margari struggled through a few lines when Henrietta
again became fidgety and said she longed for something to eat. The
good-natured Clementina jumped with joy at this sign of returning
appetite, and asked her what she would like and how she would like it.
Henrietta thereupon directed her to have prepared a soup of such a
complicated character (only the morbid imagination of an invalid could
have conceived such a monstrosity), that Clementina felt obliged to
descend to the kitchen herself to superintend its concoction herself,
for it was certain that any servant would have forgotten half the
ingredients before she could get down stairs.
Scarcely had Clementina shut the door behind her when Henrietta
interrupted Margari's elocution.
"For Heaven's sake, come nearer to me," she said, "I want to speak to
you."
The worthy man was so frightened by this unexpected summons that he had
half a mind to rush out and call for assistance. He fancied that the
young lady had become delirious--it was such an odd thing to ask him to
draw nearer. But the sick girl, pressing together her trembling hands,
looked at him so piteously that he could hesitate no longer but
approached her bedside.
Henrietta did not scruple to seize the hand of the embarrassed
gentleman.
"For God's sake, help me, my good Margari," she whispered. "I am plagued
by an anxiety which prevents me from closing my eyes. Even here when I
sleep it follows me into my dreams. You can free me from it. In you
alone have I confidence. You suffer in this house as much as I do. You
have no cause to torment or persecute me. Will you do what I ask you, my
dear, good Margari?"
It occurred to Margari that the young lady was wandering in her mind, so
to humour her, he promised to do whatever she asked him without
hesitation.
"I will be very good to you, I will never forget all my life long the
kindness you are about to do me."
"Your humble servant, Miss! but you have always been good to me. As far
as I can remember, while the others took a delight in vexing me, you
were the only one who always took my part. I don't forget that either.
Command me! I will go through fire and water for you."
"Look, then!" said the girl, drawing from her bosom a little key
attached to a black cord, "this is the key of my toilet casket. Open it
and you will find a bundle of documents tied together with a blue
ribbon, take them. All through my illness I trembled at the thought that
they might ransack my things and find them, and when I came to myself I
was worrying myself with the idea that I might perhaps have spoken about
these papers in my delirium. Oh! it would have been frightful if my
relations had seized them. Take them, quickly, before Clementina
returns. I must conceal everything, even from her."
Margari accomplished the task with tolerable dexterity. He only broke
the looking-glass while he was opening the casket, and that was little
enough for him. There the documents were right enough, nicely tied
together.
And then Henrietta seized his hand and pressed it so warmly and looked
at him with her lovely, piteous, imploring eyes--a very lunatic might
have been healed by such a look.
"I know you for an honourable man," continued she, "promise me not to
look at these papers, but give them to my brother Koloman, he will know
what to do with them. You will do this for my sake, dear Margari, will
you not? It is just as though one of the dead were to come back to you
from the world beyond the grave and implore you, with desperate
supplications, to free its soul from a thought which rested upon it like
a curse and would not let it rest in the grave."
Margari shuddered at these words. A corpse that returns from the world
beyond the grave! This young gentlewoman certainly had a terrifying
imagination. Nevertheless he swore by his hope of salvation that he
would not bestow a glance upon the papers, but would give them to young
Koloman.
"Hide them, pray!"
And indeed it was high time that he should bestow them in the well-like
pocket of his long coat, for Clementina's steps were already audible in
the adjoining chamber. When she appeared, however, he was sitting behind
the curtain again, reading away as if nothing had happened.
When the clock struck four, at which time Koloman usually returned from
school, Henrietta said to Margari that she had had enough of
romance-reading for that day, but thanked him for his kindness and asked
him to come again on the morrow if he would be so good. Margari
protested that he should consider it the highest honour, the greatest
joy. He would willingly read even English to her, if she liked, and
without any special honorarium either, and then off he went to seek
young Koloman.
Now it so happened that young Koloman did not come home at the usual
time that day, and Margari after looking for him in vain became very
curious as to the contents of the packet entrusted to him. What sort of
mysterious letters could they be which Miss Henrietta was afraid of
falling into the hands of her family. Hum! how nice it would be to find
out!
The packet was tied up--naturally! But it was possible to undo and then
retie the knots in just the same way as before, so that nobody would be
any the wiser. To an honourable man, indeed, the mere knowledge that
another's secret was concealed therein which he was bidden to guard
would have been as invincible an impediment as unbreakable bolts and
bars; but the worthy fellow reassured himself with the reflection that,
after all, he was not going to tell anybody the contents of these
documents, and he so very much longed to know what it could be that Miss
Henrietta was so anxious to hide away, and old Lapussa would so much
like to find out. As if he would ever betray the secret of such a nice,
kindly creature to such an old dragon! Why, he would rather have his
tongue torn out than betray it!--but know it he must and would!
So he locked himself up in his little room on the third storey, and very
cautiously opened the bundle which was enwrapped in I know not how many
folds of paper and greedily devoured the contents of the various
documents.
But how great was his fury when, instead of the expected secrets, he
found nothing but dull Latin exercises, wearisome rhetorical
commonplaces on such subjects as the charms of spring and summer, the
excellence of agriculture, the advantages of knowledge, the danger of
the passions, and similar interesting themes. He was just about to tie
the bundle up again, when it occurred to him to read one of these
tiresome dissertations to the end, just to see what sort of style the
young scholar affected. And now a great surprise awaited him, for he
found that after the first five or six lines the theme suddenly broke
off and there followed something altogether different, which though also
written in the Latin tongue had nothing whatever to do, either with the
beauties of spring or the excellencies of agriculture, but was,
nevertheless, of the most interesting and engrossing character.
Now, indeed, he read every one of the exercises from beginning to end,
and, when he had done so, he clearly perceived that if old Demetrius
Lapussa had very particular reasons for ferreting out these things, Miss
Henrietta had still greater reason for concealing them.
After having neatly tied up the packet again, he bethought him what he
had better do next. Miss Henrietta had confided the secret to his
safe-keeping, but Mr. Demetrius had commanded him to keep an eye upon
Koloman and his Latin exercises--which of them had the best right to
command in that house? But was it right to divulge a secret? Ah! that
was another question. It is true that, as a general rule, it is wrong to
betray secrets; yet, it is nevertheless true, that to betray a secret
that ought to be known is at least justifiable. Moreover, was it not a
Christian duty to let the grandfather know as soon as possible what
extraordinary things his granddaughter was turning over in her noddle?
And finally--there was money in it!--good solid cash! If old Lapussa did
not choose to pay a price for it, and a liberal price too, he should be
told nothing at all and Margari would show the old miser that he had a
man of character to deal with. For after all poor Margari had to live,
and this was worth as much as a thousand florins to him or its
equivalent anyhow. Surely Miss Henrietta could not be so unreasonable as
to expect poor Margari to chuck such a piece of good fortune out of the
window, especially as she had given him nothing herself.
At that moment someone knocked at the door and enquired whether Mr.
Margari was there.
Margari was so frightened that he bawled out: "No, I am not!"--so of
course he was obliged to open the door, but he concealed the packet of
letters in his pocket first.
It was the lacquey who came to ask whether Mr. Margari was aware that it
was past seven o'clock; he must come and read to the old gentleman.
Margari could not endure to hear the domestics speaking to him
familiarly.
"Seven o'clock! What do you mean?" said he. "Am I bound to know when it
is seven o'clock? Am I a clockmaker or a bell-ringer? If your master
wants me to know what a clock it is, let him send me, not a lacquey, but
a gold repeater watch!"
And salving his wounded dignity with these and similar effusions,
Margari trotted alongside the lacquey to the room of Mr. Demetrius, to
whom he immediately notified the change in the situation by sinking
down into a soft and cosey arm-chair instead of sitting down on the edge
of the hard leather-chair, expressly provided for him.
Demetrius measured him from head to foot with his terrible eagle eyes
and observed in an even more stridently moral voice than usual: "Well,
Margari, when are we going to have our novel reading?"
"We will have our reading presently, but it won't be a novel to-day."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"I humbly beg to remind your honour that you were pleased to commission
me to lay hands upon certain Latin exercises of your grandson Koloman. I
humbly beg to inform you that they are now in my possession."
"Oh!" said old Lapussa, with a forced assumption of _sang froid_, "you
may give them to me to-morrow, I will look them through."
"Crying your honour's pardon, they are in Latin."
"Well, I can get someone to look them through for me."
"I beg humbly to represent that it would not be well to put them into
anybody's hands, for strange things are contained therein."
"What!" cried the old man angrily, "you don't mean to say _you_ have
looked into them?"
"Yes, I have read them all through."
"I did not tell you to do that."
"No, but you were graciously pleased _not_ to forbid me to do so. Now,
I know everything. I know the cause of the young lady's illness. I know
why she does not wish to become the wife of Count Hátszegi. Nay, I even
know what will happen in case she does. I know all that I say--and here
it is in my pocket."
"And what presumption on your part to read other people's letters!"
"I beg your honour's pardon, but it is not presumption; I only wanted to
know the value of the wares I have obtained for your honour. I wanted to
know whether they were worth one florin, two florins, a hundred florins,
a thousand florins, lest you should do me the favour to say to me:
'look, ye, Margari, my son, here are some coppers, go and drink my
health!'--and so get the better of me."
"You are becoming impertinent! Do you want me to ring for the footman?"
"Pray do not give yourself the trouble! If you are determined to take
the documents away from me by force I will fling them into the fire that
is burning there on the hearth before the footman can come in and there
will be an end to them."
"Then it is money you want, eh? How much?"
This question made Margari still more bumptious.
"How much do I want? A good deal, a very good deal, I can tell you. In
fact I cannot tell at present how much."
But then he suddenly reassumed his obsequious cringing mien and added:
"I tell you what, your honour, procure me some petty office at Count
Hátszegi's. I don't care what it is, so long as I get a life-long
sinecure--suppose we say his bailiff, or his librarian, or his
secretary? A single word from your honour would do it."
An idea suddenly occurred to Mr. Demetrius.
"Very good, Margari, very good. So it shall be. I give you my word upon
it--you shall be Hátszegi's secretary."
"But it must be life-long. I humbly beg of you, it must be till the term
not of his but of my natural life."
"Yes, yes, till the term of your natural life."
"But if he won't have it?"
"I'll pay you myself. You shall receive your regular salary from me
without including whatever you may get over and above from him. Will you
be satisfied with a yearly salary of three hundred florins with your
board and keep?"
At these words Margari's breath failed him. It was not without
difficulty that he put the rapacious question: "Will your honour do me
the favour to give me this promise in writing?"
"Certainly! Bring writing materials and I will dictate it to you on the
spot."
And so an agreement was duly drawn up whereby Mr. Margari, in
consideration of a yearly salary of 300 florins to be punctually sent to
him at the beginning of every quarter, undertook in his capacity of
secretary to Baron Hátszegi, to keep his Honour Demetrius Lapussa
informed of all that he saw and heard at the residence of that
gentleman, Henrietta's future husband, and this obligation of
maintaining Margari was to be transferred on the death of Mr. Demetrius
to his son John. And no doubt Mr. Demetrius knew very well what he was
about.
This document signed and sealed, Mr. Margari, with the greatest
alacrity, produced the Latin exercises in question, first of all,
however, respectfully kissing the hand of his patron.
It took till midnight to read and translate all these documents one by
one. Mr. Demetrius was very well satisfied with the result, that is to
say so far as concerned the fidelity of the translation,--with the tenor
of the original text he had not the slightest reason to be pleased.
When, shortly after midnight, these revelations were concluded, Mr.
Demetrius commanded Margari to go up into his room and have a complete
translation of all this Latin rigmarole written down in honest Hungarian
by the morning and to encourage him in his task he gave him two guldens
and an order on the butler for as much punch as he could drink. By the
morning all the punch was drunk, but the translation also was finished,
to the tune of bacchanalian songs which Margari kept up with great
spirit all night long.
* * * * *
Next day, punctually at the appointed hour, the lawyer, Mr. Sipos,
appeared at the house of the Lapussas, with the necessary documents
neatly tied up with tape, under his arm as usual; he was not like our
modern lawyers who carry their masterpieces in portfolios as if they are
ashamed of them. The only persons in the reception room besides the old
man, were Madame Langai and Mr. John. Henrietta, still an invalid, had
been allowed to take a stroll to the woods near the town in order to
visit her favourite flowers once more and possibly take leave of them
for ever. She had received no invitation-card for this lecture. Why,
indeed, should a bride know anything of her bridegroom's biography
before marriage! The lawyer took his place at the table, untied his pile
of documents and began to read.
It appeared from these documents that the founder of the Hátszegi
family, the great grandfather of the present baron, was one Mustafa, who
had been a Defterdar[2] at Stamboul, and had used his unrivalled
opportunities for making money so well that he found it expedient to fly
from Jassy to Transylvania, where he made haste to get baptized and
naturalized. His son, now an Hungarian nobleman, cut a fine figure at
court and gallantly distinguished himself in the Turkish wars against
his former compatriots, his exploits winning for him the estate of
Hidvár and the title of baron. His son again was a miser of the first
water who could be enticed neither to court nor into the houses of his
neighbours. He was continually scraping money together and was not over
particular in the choice of his scraper. By adroit chicanery he acquired
possession of the gold mines of Verespatak, which he exploited with
immense advantage, and by means of money lending and mortgages got into
his hands the vast estate of Hátszegi in the counties of Hunyad and
Feher, so that when he died it took thirty heavy wagons to convey his
ready money in gold and silver alone from the Vadormi caverns, where he
had concealed it to the castle of Hidvár, which his only son, Leonard,
chose as his residence after his father's death. All these details were
certified by unimpeachable documents in schedules B. C. and D.
[Footnote 2: The chief of the financial department in the Turkish
vilagets.]
Moreover, the blood of many nationalities circulated in the veins of
Baron Leonard. The Defterdar himself was a Turk of Roumelian origin,
whose only son was the child of his Hindu concubine. He again married
the daughter of a Polish countess at the court of Vienna. The wife of
Baron Leonard's father was a wallachized Hungarian lady, whom he married
for her wealth. It was not wonderful, therefore, if the noble baron
possessed the qualities of five distinct races. Thus he had something of
the voluptuousness of the Turk, the ostentation of the Hindu, the
flightiness of the Pole, the foolhardiness of the Hungarian, and the
obstinacy of the Wallach.
"For, I speak of his faults first," the lawyer proceeded, "because I
consider that they outweigh his good qualities. That the baron is a
rich man is evident from the accounts and inventories classed under
schedule E; that the baron is a handsome man is evident from the
photograph under schedule H; that the baron is physically sound is clear
from the certificates annexed to schedules I and K, one of which is
supplied by his physician and the other by his hunting comrades. Those
who require nothing from a man save health, wealth, strength, and
beauty, will of course consider him fit and proper to make a woman
happy. Yet having regard to the following facts (1) that the aforesaid
baron is not merely unstable in love affairs but capricious to the verge
of eccentricity, and a winebibber and gourmand to boot; (2) that he is
as vain as an Indian prince who takes unto him a wife for the mere pomp
and show of the thing; (3) that he is violent and brutal, sparing nobody
in his sudden fits of passion and, as the documents testify, has
frequently inflicted mortal injuries on those who have come in his way
while he was in an ill-humour; (4) that he has an odd liking for rowdy
adventures, which do not reflect much credit upon him; and (5) that,
according to the whispers of those nearest to him there is a strange
mystery pervading his whole life, inasmuch as mysterious disappearances,
which nobody can make head or tail of, occupy an incalculable number of
his days and weeks which remain unaccounted for, and make a pretty
considerable hiatus in every year of his life--taking all these things
into consideration, I am constrained to give it as my opinion that I do
not consider such a man a fit and proper husband for such a tender,
sympathetic young lady as the Miss Henrietta in question, and let the
world if it likes consider such a match as the greatest piece of good
fortune imaginable, I, for my part, would nevertheless call it a
calamity to be avoided at any price. And now would you do me the honour
to examine the original documents I have brought with me as exhibits in
corroboration of my statements--though I would mention," he quickly
added, perceiving that Madame Langai had greedily clutched hold of them,
"that among those documents there are sundry by no means suited for a
lady's perusal."
"When I come across any such I will pass them over," said she. Of course
these were the very passages she proceeded to search for straight away.
Meanwhile Mr. Demetrius also had drawn a packet of papers from
underneath the cushions of his sofa and handed them to Mr. Sipos.
"Then you do not advise me to give Henrietta to Baron Hátszegi to wife?
Good! And now, perhaps, while we run through the exhibits and schedules,
perhaps you'll be so good as to cast your eye over these papers. I don't
think they will bore you."
These documents, by the way, were the Latin documents discovered by Mr.
Margari--_in natura_.
Mr. John was marching pettishly up and down the room, and Madame Langai
was reading her documents with the greatest attention so that nobody
observed the surprise, the confusion reflected in the countenance of the
lawyer as he looked through the fatal Latin manuscripts. He kept shaking
his head and twisting his moustache right and left, fidgeted in his
armchair, and the beads of perspiration which stood out on his forehead
gave him enough to do to wipe them away with his pocket-handkerchief; at
last he had read the papers, and then he laid the whole bundle on the
table and stared silently before him like one whose reason for the
moment had no counsel to give him.
Just about the same time Madame Langai had completed the perusal of
_her_ documents, and now she too seemed to be in an extreme state of
agitation. During the course of her reading, she had been unable to
restrain herself from exclaiming at intervals: "the monster! the
scoundrel!"
Mr. Demetrius had been amusing himself all this time by carefully
observing the various mutations of expression in the faces of the
readers, which certainly afforded considerable entertainment to an
onlooker with any sense of humour.
When every document had produced its expression, he remarked in a soft
gentle voice: "Well, my daughter, what do _you_ think of the affair?"
Madame Langai clapped to her eyeglass and, with the air of one who had
made up his mind once for all, replied instantly: "I would not allow a
decent chambermaid to become Baron Hátszegi's wife, let alone a
Henrietta Lapussa."
"And what is your opinion, Mr. Lawyer?" enquired the old man turning to
Mr. Sipos.
"I?" replied the honest man, visibly perturbed, with a voice full of
emotion: "I would advise that the young lady should be married to the
baron as quickly as possible."
Madame Langai regarded him with wide-open eyes.
"What! After all that is in these papers?"
"No, after all that is in those other documents."
"What are they?" cried Madame Langai pouncing upon them incontinently
and extremely vexed, the next moment, to find them all written in Latin.
She perceived that they were Koloman's exercises, and that was all. She
did not understand their connection with the case in point.
"I'll take those documents back please," said old Demetrius, stretching
out a skinny hand towards them. "They will be of use to us though I have
a translation of them besides. Then, you think, Mr. Lawyer, it will be
as well to marry Henrietta to the baron, eh? Very well! Let me add that
on the day when Henrietta goes to the altar with Baron Leonard, I will
make you a present of all this scribble. Till then I shall require them.
Do you understand?"
Mr. Sipos was completely beaten; you might have knocked him down with a
feather. He had never been so badly worsted in his professional
capacity. Madame Langai would have besieged him with questions, but he
avoided her, put on his hat and departed.
Madame Langai thereupon turned to her father: "What is the cause of this
wondrous change?" she cried. "What secrets do those miraculous papers
contain?"
Mr. Demetrius tucked the documents in question well beneath him and
replied: "They contain secrets the discovery whereof will be a great
misfortune and yet a great benefit to the parties concerned."
"Have they any connection with Henrietta's wedding?"
"They have a direct bearing thereupon, and, indeed, necessitate it!"
"Poor girl!" sighed Madame Langai.
* * * * *
Mr. Sipos passed by his own dwelling three times before he knew that he
had reached home, so confused was he by what he had just learnt. When he
_did_ get inside the house he walked for a long time up and down his
consulting room as if he were trying to find a beginning for a business
he would very much have liked to be at the end of. At last he gave the
bellrope a very violent pull and told the clerk who answered the bell to
send him his assistant, Mr. Szilard, at once.
Szilard appeared on the very heels of the messenger. His was one of
those faces which women never forget. There was ardent passion in every
feature and the large flaming black eyes, which spoke of courage and
high enthusiasm, harmonized so well with the wan hue of the pallid face.
"Well, my dear fellow, do you feel quite well again now?" asked Mr.
Sipos in a tone of friendly familiarity; "did the doctor call to see you
to-day?"
"I have no need of him, there's nothing the matter with me."
"Nay, nay! Not so reckless! You have been working again, I see. You know
the doctor has forbidden it."
"I only work to distract my thoughts."
"You should seek amusement rather. Why don't you mix in society like
other young men? Why don't you frequent the coffee-houses and go to a
dance occasionally? Why, you slave away like a street-porter! Young
blood needs relaxation."
"Oh, I am all right. My dear uncle, you are very kind, but you worry
about me more than I deserve."
"That is my duty, my dear nephew. Don't you know that your poor father
confided you to my care on his death-bed, bade me be a father to you.
Don't you remember?"
"I do," replied the young man, and catching hold of his guardian's hand
he pressed it, murmuring in a scarcely audible voice: "You have indeed
been a second father to me!"
But Mr. Sipos tore his hand passionately from the young man's grasp and
said in a somewhat rougher tone: "But suppose your dead father were to
say: 'That is not true! You have _not_ watched over my son as a father
should! You have lightly left him to himself. He was in danger and you
were unaware of it. He hovered on the edge of the abyss and you were
blind and saw nothing. And if God and my dead hand had not defended him,
he would have become a suicide and you knew it not--wherefore?'"--
The young man trembled at these words, he grew even paler than before
and gazed with a look of stupefaction at his chief. Then the old man
approached him, and took him by the hand as if he would say: "I am going
to scold you, but fear nothing. I am on your side."
"My dear Szilard," said he, "don't you recollect that when you were a
little child and did anything you should not have done, and your father
questioned you about it, did he not always say to you: 'when you have
done wrong and are ashamed to confess it, keep silence! press your teeth
together! but don't lie, don't deny it, never think of taking refuge
behind any false excuse, for your name is Szilard,[3] and cowardice does
not become the bearer of such a name!' You understood him. You acted as
he would have had you act. And now I also would remind you once more
that you were christened Szilard and I ask you therefore to listen
calmly to what I am about to say to you. Don't interrupt, don't attempt
to deceive me. If you don't want to answer my questions, simply shake
your head! And now sit down, my son! You are still barely convalescent.
Your head is weak and what I have to say to you might very well make it
reel again."
[Footnote 3: Strong, firm.]
Then the old lawyer tenderly pressed the youth into a chair and sighing
deeply, thus continued: "You fell in love with the daughter of a great
family and she with you. You got acquainted at a dance and the intimacy
did not stop there. Every conceivable obstacle intervened between you,
but love is artful and inventive and you found a way. The rich girl had
a neglected brother whom his relations sent to the grammar school and
the rascal frequently took refuge with me, the family attorney, when he
was ill-treated at home, and here you came across him. You cared for him
and explained to him the difficulties in his lessons which he was unable
to do for himself. The boy grew very fond of you. He spoke to you of
your beloved, and he spoke to her of you, and he was always praising
each of you to the other. The grandfather, the uncle, the aunt, the
governess, the domestics who never took their eyes off the girl for an
instant, had no idea that she was already involved in a love affair. But
amazing is the ingenuity of love and lovers! You knew that none of the
older members of the family understood the classical language of the
orators, and the girl loved so dearly that she did not consider it too
great a labour to learn a dead tongue which could be of no further use
to her in order to be able to say to her beloved: _Ego te in aeternum
amabo!_ One must admit that that was a great and noble sacrifice. Every
day you corresponded with each other. Before school time the girl
dictated his lessons to her young brother, beginning with the usual
scholastic flowers of rhetoric but ending in the passionate voice of
love, and after school was over, you, in your turn dictated a similar
lesson for the lad to carry back with him. Naturally, _this_ lesson book
he _never_ took to school with him; you kept the other here, the genuine
one which he had to show to his masters. And this ingenious smuggling
was carried on beneath the very eyes of the family without their
perceiving it. Yet at last it _was_ discovered. This very day, only an
hour ago, the old head of the family placed these papers in my hands
that I might read them, informing me at the same time that he had
already read a translation of them. Terrible were the things I
discovered in these papers. The appearance of a rich and noble suitor
who, according to the notions of the world, was just made for the girl,
frustrated all your plans of waiting patiently for better times. The
family forced this union upon the girl. You, in your despair, racked
your brain as to what you should do. At first you resolved upon an
elopement, but the redoubled vigilance with which every step of the
young girl was watched made this impossible. Then a black and terrible
thought occurred to you both. You resolved to kill yourselves--it was
your one remaining means of deliverance. Yes, you resolved to kill
yourselves at once, on the self-same day, in the self-same manner. For
many days you deliberated together as to the best way of accomplishing
your design. Great caution was necessary. You had to pick your words
lest the little brother who wrote them down from dictation should have
guessed your intentions. The girl asked you, at last, to send her a book
on natural science. You sent it to her. She, with the help of it tried
to find out what sorts of poisons could be most easily procured. For two
whole days you deliberated together as to the best way of obtaining
matches, the phosphorus of which is the most efficacious of poisons. But
in vain. In great houses only the domestics have charge of the matches,
it was impossible to get any. At last the girl hit on an expedient. She
discovered that if you put a copper coin in a glass dish and pour strong
vinegar over it, verdegris will be formed and verdegris is poison. Your
minds were at once made up. The girl prepared poison for herself and
taught you to do the same. . . . Merciful Heaven! what notions children
do get into their heads to be sure."