Eyes Like the Sea — 19 - Chapter 15, part 1
MARVELS NOT TO BE SEEN FOR MONEY
It was now four years since I had made friends with the beech woods.
For two years I was "Sajó," but after that I was again able to practise the art of letters in my own name.
My wife and I saw nobody, and nobody came to see us.
We had both of us quite enough to do without paying visits.
My wife was an actress, and I an author.
And let nobody suppose that actresses and authors live in the land of Cockaigne.
[88] Both have very hard work to do, and rest is their dearest recreation.
[Footnote 88: Lit.
, a sky full of fiddles.
] Unfortunately I was engaged in publishing and editing.
Nominally, indeed, the director of the National Theatre was the responsible editor and publisher of the belle-lettristic and artistic journal _Délibab_, for my name was still under police supervision; but, in reality, I wrote and edited the whole paper, corrected the proofs, and folded up, directed, and despatched the copies of it to the subscribers--and got into trouble for it besides.
My only assistant was a worthy, semi-rustic, very pronounced Hungarian lad, called Coloman Iglódi, who had served as lieutenant under the banner of the red-capped Honveds in our Utopian days.
[89] At the battle of Tarczal he had received three bullets, one in the face, the second in the arm, and the third in the leg, and these wounds he had to thank for his dismissal as a genuine invalid.
So he joined me as messenger, secretary, and door-keeper, and a worthy, honest fellow he was.
[Footnote 89: _i.
e. _, during the war.
] One afternoon "clerk Coloman" (that was his familiar epithet) opened the door of my working-room.
"I beg pardon, sir," said he, "but a cuirassier is here."
"What sort of a cuirassier?"
"A senior lieutenant."
"What does he want with me, I wonder?"
In the fifties the visit of an officer was tantamount to a challenge.
Those were the days of the famous political duels in which Coloman Tisza,[90] Julius Szapary,[91] and Francis Beniczky fought with the delegated officers.
[Footnote 90: The late Prime Minister of Hungary and leader of the Liberal party there.
] [Footnote 91: The present Prime Minister.
--Since this note was written, Szapary has given way to Weckerle.
] "Admit him!"
"Call me, please, if necessary," said clerk Coloman confidentially, making at the same time a significant movement with the paper-knife.
Then the visitor entered.
In figure he was half a head taller than me at the very least.
He was a strong, broad-shouldered fellow.
His bony face wore quite a stony expression by reason of a powerful eagle nose and a broad double chin.
On the other hand this sternness was somewhat contradicted by a pair of honest, bright-blue eyes, a little mouth, and offensively light hair, though his eyebrows, moustache, and whiskers were even lighter.
My visitor, as he advanced from my door to my writing-table, took those three short mazurka steps which, with men, are generally the preliminaries to a military salute; he held, close pressed to his thigh, his beautiful helmet, with the golden lions and the black-yellow plumes;
and when he stood in front of me, he clashed his spurs together and introduced himself in Hungarian.
"I am Wenceslaus Kvatopil, senior lieutenant of dragoons."
He had the peculiar habit of accompanying every word with an explanatory movement of his hand, so that a stone-deaf person could have understood perfectly what he meant.
The deprecatory movement of his hand meant--Wenceslaus Kvatopil; the indication of the twin stars on his collar meant that he was a lieutenant; the slight elevation of his helmet signified that he was a dragoon, and the simultaneous sweep of the hand towards his breast gave me to understand that he was _not_ a cuirassier.
"I am glad to see you," I said; "how can I be of service?"
"I should like to have a long conversation with you, sir, if you will let me."
At this I would have offered him a chair, but on no account in the world would he suffer me to do so, but helped himself to one, and then once more apologised for the trouble he was giving before he sat down opposite to me.
I begged him to address me in German, as I was quite capable of making myself understood in that tongue.
"No!
no!
En _akarom_ magyariul beszélni"[92]--and at the same time he made as though he were ducking the head of a refractory urchin in a basin of soapsuds.
[Footnote 92: "I want to talk in Hungarian."
] "_Akarok_," I good-humouredly corrected him.
"No!
no!
_Akarok_ is the _indefinite_ mood, _akarom the definite_ mood;
and I want to speak Hungarian _definitely_."
I was forced to acknowledge to myself that his logic was stronger than his grammar.
"I was born in Leutomischl"[93]--here he let his head fall regretfully on his breast.
[Footnote 93: A Bohemian town.
He meant by this that he belonged to Czech officials who had been forced upon Hungary.
--TR.
] I with corresponding pantomime replied that that need not make any difference between us.
"My father was"--here with both hands he took aim with an imaginary gun.
It now occurred to me _why_ he made all these gestures.
Such is often the way with those who have taught themselves a foreign language without a master, and cannot find quickly enough the word they want.
I hastened to his assistance.
"A forester?"
"Yes, a forester.
He had sons"--he lifted up both hands, and then one finger.
"Eleven?"
"Yes, eleven.
I myself was"--he held the palm of his hand quite low down towards the floor.
"The youngest?"
"Yes, the youngest."
"My father gave me"--here followed a very suggestive gesture.
"Yes, a _very rigorous_ education."
"But it was all"--he lightly tapped the hollow of his hand, as much as to say "No good!"
"He wanted me to be"--he laid the palms of his hands together as if in prayer.
"A priest?"
"Quite right!
I wouldn't"--a snap of the fingers, and then a lizard-like dart into the palm of the hand.
"You mean to say you took French leave of the Seminary?"
At this we both laughed.
The gesture next following--a smack on the palm of the hand illustrated by a little equitation on the back of a chair--gave me to understand that my visitor had then become a soldier.
"At four-and-twenty I was a lieutenant.
I lay at Cracow for two years.
I
served in the Hungarian war from beginning to end.
I am now thirty-four years old.
And still I am only a lieutenant.
Curious, isn't it?"
I agreed with him that it was certainly most surprising.
"My other comrades--no, not _comrades_, that's a French word."
"_Bajtarsai?
_"[94] I suggested.
[Footnote 94: "Your comrades"--the Hungarian equivalent.
] "Yes, of course!
my other _bajtarsai_ all became captains and majors, and have got decorations.
I've nothing!
Nothing, I tell you!
And I'm pretty plucky too.
I'm a good horseman--I've never given offence--I understand my duties.
What do you think the cause is?"
I really was curious myself to know the cause of this misadventure.
"All through the war I was interned at Temesvar with my squadron.
No occasion for displaying valour.
Cavalry behind trenches.
My comrades all on the battle-field"--he made a swift motion with his hand.
"And fought bravely?"
said I, completing the sentence.
"Yes, they fought bravely, whilst we horsemen besieged in the fortress might"--here he put the tips of his thumbs between his teeth and puffed out his cheeks.
"Smoke your pipes?"
I suggested.
"Yes, we smoked our pipes."
Here we both gave way to merriment once more.
Again I urged upon my visitor to speak in German, and we could then perhaps get along more easily, but he only replied, "_Muszaj!
_"[95] Well, if he knows even that _Hungarian_ word, I thought, he _must_ have his own way, that's all.
[Footnote 95: A corruption of the German _mussen_, but as used in Hungarian it expresses the most emphatic necessity.
When all other arguments fail, the word _muszaj_ is supposed to carry everything before it.
--TR.
] "Yes, I _must_ speak Hungarian, by command of the highest authority."
"The highest?"
With that he seized the lappets of my coat with both hands.
"Come, now!
Do you know who is the greatest tyrant in the whole world?"
"Dionysius of Syracuse."
"Ha!
ha!
ha!
Young blood!
'Tis this!"
--and with his index finger he tapped himself between his fourth and fifth ribs on the left-hand side.
"The heart, eh?"
"You're right.
The heart.
'Tis the greatest tyrant.
_It_ commands me to speak Hungarian."
"Then you are in love, eh?"
A gesture with the palm of his hand right up to the chin was the answer.
"Up to the neck, eh?"
"No, over head and ears."
"With a lovely Hungarian damsel?"
He raised his three fingers closely pressed together to his lips, which were pointed as if to receive a kiss, thereby explaining that she was _very_ lovely.
Then he passed his extended palms softly over his face, then, joining them together beneath his chin, affirmed, so far as I understood him, that she was also young and charming.
Then he pressed his waist with both hands, which meant "slim as a lily stalk."
After that he cracked his fingers right in front of his eyes, which meant "What eyes!"
Finally he crossed his arms, and immediately afterwards disengaged them again.
"In a word, a ravishing beauty," said I. "I congratulate you!"
"I think you may."
"Your tender sentiment is naturally reciprocated?"
"Oho!"
and he caught hold of the flat of his sword.
"I did not mean to insinuate the contrary," I said.
"Naturally."
Then he was silent, and began to fumble about his stiff cravat.
I saw that he wanted me to ask him some more questions.
"A maiden lady?"
"Oh, no!"
"Then a widow lady?"
"Ah, no!"
"Then it can't be a lady at all?"
"No, no!
What are you thinking of?"
"Then what is she?"
"A lady who has a husband, but yet is not a married lady."
"Aha!
A _divorcée_?"
"Yes."
"Then the relations between you are quite legitimate."
At this, my lieutenant of dragoons rose from his chair and stood before me in quite a magisterial position.
I also stood up.
"The lady desires you to be her ..."
--here the word he wanted would not occur to him.
He raised the three first fingers of his right hand above his head, like one who is taking an oath.
I guessed his meaning.
"A witness to her marriage?"
"No, not that.
She used another word."
"Oh, she meant I was to give her away?"
"Yes, that is it.
How I do forget!"
"Then is the chosen of your heart an acquaintance of mine?"
"Naturally.
If I were only to mention her first name you would remember at once.
Bessy!"
"Ah, Bessy!"
"How red you've got!
You were in love with her once yourself.
I know!
She told me.
Well, will you give her away?"
"With pleasure."
"Really?"
"With all my heart."
Then he caught hold of my hand with both his hands; squeezed my hand violently, and his eyes grew quite tiny with sheer rapture.
I believed he would have liked to kiss me; but he had a big nose, and I had a big nose, too, so we could not very well have managed it.
"Then will you allow me to bring in my bride?"
"Whence?"
"She is waiting outside."
"Not on the staircase?"
"Yes, indeed.
On the staircase.
She won't come in till she's quite sure you'll give her away.
She's a bit shy."
I immediately hastened to open the door for my hesitating visitor.
It really was Bessy.
It was winter time just then, and she had all sorts of furry garments upon her, and a furred cap on her head; she looked just like a fair Muscovite.
There really seemed to be some sort of coquettish bashfulness in her face.
I couldn't imagine why.
I had seen her face before under many similar circumstances, and after Muki Bagotay, Peter Gyuricza, and Tihamér Rengetegi, Wenceslaus Kvatopil was decidedly an improvement.
The bridegroom remained in the room while I admitted the lady.
Then he first craved permission to kiss her hand, and then begged her pardon for kissing it.
After that there was absolutely no getting him to take a seat, but he persisted in standing on one spot, leaning over the back of the arm-chair in which his lady sat.
"Have you grasped what my hero has told you?"
inquired Bessy, when she had got over her first embarrassment.
"Just fancy!
he has given me his word as a gentleman that henceforth he'll never address a word to any Hungarian except in the Hungarian language.
And he tortures his Hungarian orderly to death with it to begin with."
"A most laudable resolve," I was obliged to answer.
"But now, first of all, let me explain to you why I ask you to put yourself to the inconvenience of giving me away."
I assured her that to give her away was not an inconvenience, but a pleasure.
"After our last meeting you never anticipated, perhaps, that we should meet again in this life?"
I lifted my head and looked at her with amazement.
"Oh!
we can say anything before _him_" (here she pointed at her bridegroom).
"He's as nice and good a boy as ever lived.
I could twist him round my little finger if I liked.
You can say anything before him.
You know my story, I think, up to the time when I had to go into hiding with Bálványossi after the Revolution.
I shouldn't like you to imagine that I quitted that man from pure lightness of heart.
Just fancy!
he had the impudence to commit that act of baseness which I mentioned to you: he told the Imperial Commissioner the whole story of the conveying of those despatches, cleared himself from the accusation of that heroic deed, and at the same time denounced me.
He justified himself to me on the ground that it was necessary to '_purify_ himself,' in order that he might obtain a theatrical licence, and that they would not _impute_ this little joke to me because I was a woman.
But they _did_ impute it!
They arrested me, they imprisoned me, and they severely cross-examined me.
And I have to thank this worthy young fellow alone for getting off scot-free.
He took my part.
But for him I should have had to pay most dearly for my heroic exploit.
Shouldn't I, Wenzy?"
The lieutenant hinted, with a deprecatory wave of his hand, that no more need be said about the matter.
"Hence our acquaintance began," continued the lady, "and this, perhaps, will justify me in your eyes for selecting a foreigner, a foreign officer, as my _fiancé_.
I had very strong reasons, you must admit, for growing cold towards my former hero."
The fair lady did not appear to be satisfied with the impression that her eyes had made upon me; at least, I had some reason to believe that the following commentary was intended not so much for the delight of her bridegroom as for my own edification.
"Believe me (I am perfectly serious about it), I am not merely grateful to Kvatopil because he has rescued me from my great difficulties, and, what is more, from any further improprieties on the part of that Barabbas Bálványossi;--no, I also esteem him as a noble nature worthy of all respect; from the crown of his head to the tip of his toe he is full of the love of truth, not even in jest would he tell a lie.
He is valiant and strong-minded, and at the same time affectionate and tender-hearted.
A man of his word, in fact, who does not lightly give his word either.
A really model man."
A pencil was in my hand, and before me was a blank sheet of paper, and I involuntarily scribbled on this piece of paper "Number 4." The lady grasped the import of my hieroglyphic and shook her head, but she smiled a little too.
"But he is not like the others," she insisted; "he is the direct opposite of what _ladies' men_ think a man should be.
It will sound incredible, I know, but it is the simple fact that he has been my visitor these three years.
He has come to see me nearly every day during that period, and never has he permitted himself a single bold advance or a single unbecoming expression.
Every day I have to tell him, just as if it were the first time, to take a seat, put down his helmet, and place his sword in the corner, and our conversation has never gone beyond the criticism of Schiller's verses."
I was bound to admit that this was really an extraordinary case.
"I couldn't help rallying him about it," continued the lady; "you know that I am not accustomed to a wooer who imitates the statue of Memnon;
and then Kvatopil confessed, with perfect simplicity, that he was _afraid_ of me.
'If I were as timid on the battle-field,' said he, 'as I am in your presence, His Majesty would only give me my deserts by dismissing me from his service.'
" The lieutenant signified by a nod of his head that his words had been correctly reported.
"Finally," continued Bessy, "I had to ask for his hand--hadn't I, my friend?"
The bridegroom replied that such had indeed been the case.
"Even then he was quite coy.
He pleaded his humble rank.
He begged time for consideration.
Now, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did."
"I had to remove his scruples one by one, till at last I brought him to a definite declaration, and he said he would take me to wife.
Never have I met with such an officer before."
Bessy read from my face the expression, "Why bother me with all this?"
I
never asked about it, and I didn't care a fig about her affairs.
"Look now," continued she, in an almost supplicating voice, "I don't tell you all these things to amuse you, but because I have an earnest request to make of you."
"So the lieutenant informed me."
"I don't mean about giving me away--that is _not_ a serious request.
You would do that to oblige any servant of yours.
I have a much greater request than that to make.
I wish to ask you to be my guardian, my foster-father."
"I?
Your _foster-father_?"
"Don't put so much emphasis on the word _father_.
You are four years older than I am, remember."
"What does a married woman want with a guardian?"
"I assume the case of a married woman who mismanages her property."
"And do you believe, then, that _I_ am such a great financier?"
"I believe that you are my sincere friend, anyhow.
You are my only real friend in the round world who neither asks nor expects anything for his kindness to me.
I know it from experience.
You have heard, no doubt (and if you haven't heard, you might easily have guessed it), that my relations have shaken me off.
They deny that they ever knew me.
My mother has married again and removed to Prague.
Every one in whom I would confide tries to get something out of me--either money, or what is more precious than money.
Whosoever would attach himself to me is either a swindler, or a seducer, or a parasite.
As for myself, I am a stupid, credulous creature, who will never have any brains to bless herself with.
I need a strong hand over me, some one to look after my material interests and save me from bankruptcy, some one in whose good-will I may confide.
I know very well I might find a more _experienced_ guardian than you, even if I went no further than the civic magistrates; but I could endure dictation from nobody--but you.
Your dictation I could put up with.
For Heaven's sake do not let me perish!"
