Chapter 14

"Indeed!" replied the General, without taking offence, "now I remember, that the somnambulist foretold me this just a year ago. If I did not believe that Görgei was the cause of our losing the battle, I should be inclined to think there had been witchcraft in it. Well, the Germans shall keep their name's-day by and bye!"

After this loss, the Hungarians were obliged to retreat from Pesth. The Government and treasury were removed to Debrecsen, and Perczel was intrusted with their escort thither.

Having accomplished this, he advanced with a small army towards Szolnok, where the enemy had encamped, and were fortifying themselves during the cold season.

One fine misty morning, Perczel crossed the Tisza[48] on the ice to the enemy's nearest position, and, opening fire upon them, obliged them to retreat to Czegled, whither he pursued them.

[Footnote 48: Szolnok is built on the river Tisza, or Theiss.]

The imperial troops had just crossed a village vineyard. Perczel saw the last dragoon disappear behind the acacia trees which skirted it, and, striking his spurs into his horse, he ordered his troops to advance, that the enemy might not escape them.

At that moment he was arrested by a stranger, who unceremoniously rode up to him, and, seizing his mantle, accosted him in French.

"_N'allez pas là!_" said the unknown, pointing to the vineyards.

The General looked at him in astonishment. The stranger was an old man, simply attired _en civile_, but there was something peculiarly striking in his martial air and keen glance.

"And why should I not go there?" asked Perczel.

"The enemy will bring you into a snare!"

"I should like to see that."

"You will see it. Behind those vineyards there is undoubtedly a concealed battery, from which you will receive a cross fire."

"Why do you imagine this?"

"Because it follows naturally from the position."

"Ah! we must not let our apprehensions retain us on such grounds; we have no time to speculate," cried the General, and, shaking off the importunate stranger, he once more galloped forward.

They were now scarcely a thousand paces from the vineyards. A Suabian peasant, whose cart had been overturned in endeavouring to pass the artillery, was standing by the roadside, uttering lamentations over his damaged goods.

"What village is that, good fellow?" asked Perczel out of mere curiosity, pointing to the village at the foot of the vineyards.

"Perczel!" replied the boor.

"That is I," said the General; "but I asked you the name of that village."

"May be your excellency is called after it, for its name has been Perczel since the beginning of the world."

The General stopped short. The words of the somnambulist recurred to him; he looked round for the old man--he was riding among the troops.

Perczel motioned to him to approach, and said, "Do you really believe that there is a battery concealed behind those vineyards?"

"I am certain of it. The slightest experience in tactics might determine that."

"And accordingly you consider the position unattainable."

"On the contrary--but on such occasions it is usual to make a _détour_."

"For which a very rapid movement were requisite, and our infantry is too much fatigued."

"We can manage that; intrust me with a battalion of infantry and two squadrons of cavalry, and wait here in reserve until I start the game from its cover."

"Do so," said the General, and, giving some directions to his aide-de-camp, he watched the stranger's movements with interest.

The old man put the infantry in the hussars' stirrups, and conducted them with the utmost expedition across the wood.

The idea was as natural as that of Columbus in regard to the egg, and yet it had occurred to no one before.

In a few minutes the rapid discharge of musketry announced that the stranger had not been mistaken; and the batteries, which were actually lying in ambush behind the hill, appeared retreating from either side.

Perczel then advanced with the reserve to meet his troops. They returned in triumph with the little, grayhaired stranger, who rode calmly on as if nothing had happened, his brow still blackened with the smoke from the gunpowder. The troops could not sufficiently extol his coolness and intrepidity.

"I owe you much," said Perczel, not ashamed to acknowledge the stranger's superiority. "May I know whom I have the honour of addressing?"

"My name is Henry Dembinszki," replied the stranger coldly.

Perczel respectfully saluted him, and placed the marshal's baton in his hand. "It is your due; henceforward let _me_ serve in your ranks."

GERGELY SONKOLYI.

After all, it cannot be denied that my uncle, Gergely Sonkolyi, was an excellent man; and how well I remember him, as he hunted me in the forest through bush and brake, while I never expected to rest until we had made the circuit of the world.

I think I see him still, his cornelian-wood brass-headed cane in his hand, and his cherry-wood pipe with its acorn-shaped bowl, which he never took out of his mouth, even when he scolded--and with what eloquence he could anathematize the sons of men! the raging of the elements is like the notes of a clarionet in comparison! I was not one who considered courage, under all circumstances, as a peculiar virtue; and as soon as I perceived the storm gathering, I no longer took the matter in jest, but looking about for the first loophole, valiantly took to my heels, trusting to their speed to place me beyond its reach.

But in order to explain why my uncle, Gergely Sonkolyi, hunted me through the forest, I must turn up an early letter in the alphabet of memory, and begin my story at the usual point--namely, the beginning.

When? I cannot precisely state the date; though so far I may confidently affirm,--it was after the French war, and before the cholera, that I was turned out of school in disgrace.

Ah yes, I behaved very ill indeed! I sinned against civilisation by refusing to wear square-toed boots, and for this enormity I was banished from the classes; and yet, nothing could induce me to wear anything but sharp-nosed csizmas.

I went home; and my father, after inflicting severe corporal punishment, threatened to bind me apprentice to a butcher. But, unfortunately for this speculation, the resident executioner of oxen declared that the trade required wit; otherwise I might now have possessed a two-story house in Pesth.

"You hit where you have your eye, master, don't you?" I asked the worthy slayer of cattle as he raised his axe, observing (for he squinted hideously) that he fixed his right eye on the bullock, and the left one on me.

"Eh! to be sure I do," replied the big man.

"Then I will just place myself beside you," I said, fearing he might look out of the wrong eye.

"Never fear," said the big man; and with one blow the work was done.

"Well now, Master Janos, tell me what peculiar talents are requisite here?"

"Heigh! you would not do for this trade. You see we have a different way of reckoning from what you students have."

"I believe you are right, Master Janos; for my mother is always complaining of your system of twice two."

And now this man is a landed proprietor, and I--a landless one!

Having been rejected by the schoolmaster and the butcher, I was considered a hopeless subject, and left to my own devices. What should I do at home? From morning till evening there was not wherewithal to stain my teeth; so for want of better employment, I began to look about the village. This certainly did not require much genius, for our house was on an eminence, from whence we had a view of the whole place; and when I mounted the great corn-stack in our yard, I could see directly into some of our neighbours' courts.

Here it was that I became initiated in certain hidden mysteries,--for example, how some of our village dames, who would launch forth on holidays all smartness and finery, were up to their elbows in dirt at home, and to their knees in mud--their heads vying with those unowned hay-stacks which are kicked at by every passing colt; while their lips, which were so daintily prim on holiday occasions that one could scarcely believe them capable of pronouncing the letter R, now raised the very dust on the roads with their abuse.

Then there was a house which had two doors to it; and whenever the goodman made his exit at the one door, somebody else entered by the other.

At another house, whenever the master came home late, his wife laid his dinner outside, upon the millstone table, with the servants; and the best of the matter was, that with this too familiar exception, he was held in vast respect by the whole household.

All this was very well to contemplate from a distance; but I happened at last to stumble upon something, a nearer view of which would have been by no means disagreeable to me.

Our next neighbour was my excellent uncle, Gergely Sonkolyi. His house was pretty ancient; and I remember, in my childish days, pulling the reeds[49] out of the roof to look for sugar. In those days the walls were painted partly blue and partly yellow; but afterwards the old man had them all rough-cast, and then it was not necessary to paint them again.

[Footnote 49: Reeds--_nad_. Cane sugar is called _nad czukor_.]

The house lay below the garden, and there were little plots before the windows, which were always filled with bouquets of musk and carrot flowers; and from a square hole in the roof sundry bunches of pepper blushed forth, in the warlike vicinity of an outstretched scythe.

Several large mulberry trees in the court-yard formed a roosting-place for the poultry; and opposite the kitchen door was the entrance to the wine-cellar, over which hung a variety of pumpkins. Beyond this was a large pigeon-house, farther on a pig-sty, then a two-yard measure, then a draw-well; while various implements of industry appeared in the perspective--such as ploughs, harrows, waggons, &c. And if to all these I add nine dogs, two speckled bullocks, and a flock of geese, I have before me a very perfect view of my Uncle Sonkolyi's court-yard.

The nine dogs kept watch at the entrance when my uncle was not hunting, feasting in imagination upon the savoury odour of gulyas-hus[50] which issued from the grated door of the kitchen, where a large fire burned incessantly in the broad grate, with various huge pots hissing among the flames, while a squadron of linen servants,[51] each one redder than the other, hurried to and fro under the direction of old Mrs. Debora.

[Footnote 50: The herd's meat; a hash composed of beef, with various spices, and a quantity of onions and pepper.]

[Footnote 51: The kitchen-maids and boys wear linen dresses, and wide linen drawers.]

Beyond the kitchen were several other apartments, for a description of which I must refer my readers to the county chronicles, where all such goods and chattels are particularly delineated. For my part, I only remember the little back room, with its large white stove, the old eight-day clock, two great tent-beds standing side by side, a double-leaved oak table in the middle of the room, and the history of Joseph and his brethren on the walls. A casement door, opening inside, disclosed another chamber, whose walls were hung with hunting-bags, whips, bugles, swords, and saddle accoutrements, each one more rusty than another. But among all these reminiscences, the most interesting in my regard is an old black leather sofa: ah! it was on that very old sofa--but I must not anticipate.

Well, it was here that my dear uncle lived--the honourable and nobly-born Gergely Sonkolyi.

But he might have lived here or anywhere else for aught I might have known or cared, had it not been for the prettiest--the very prettiest little girl that mortal eyes e'er rested on.

She was the old man's daughter. Little Esztike was a most lovely creature: often, very often did sleep forsake me thinking of her, although I still oftener dreamt of her--of those small soft hands, and those large dark eyes, one half glance of which I would not have exchanged for the Chinese emperor's finest cap. I was never tired of standing guard all day long on the top of the corn-stack, from whence I could see my little darling when she came out to the court to water her flowers, or feed her doves. Each motion, each turn--in short, everything about her, was so engaging and so attractive, that I often forgot while watching her whether it was morning or evening.

But all this was not sufficient for happiness: it was like sucking the honey through the glass, to dream of so much sweetness.

I would have given kingdoms, had I possessed them, to any one who would have helped me with good counsel; but good counsels are not mushrooms, growing where they are not sown.

Everybody knew that my uncle, Gergely Sonkolyi, was a peculiar man,--who did not understand a joke in certain matters, and had a strange fancy of never allowing any of the male sex to approach within nine paces of his daughter. "Whoever wanted to marry her" (this was his argument) "will ask for her; and if not, he shall not make a fool of her." And his usual reply to suitors for his daughter's hand was: "Will you have her to-day, nephew, or wait till to-morrow?" indicating that she was still very young, and not fit for the charge of a _ménage_. But all this I considered a very matter-of-fact view of life; and I must confess that it annoyed me extremely at the time, though afterwards I acknowledged he was right.

Notwithstanding my uncle's caution, however, there were times when I contrived to make little Esztike sensible of my feelings towards her. But there was one terrible fatality--that old Mrs. Debora, who never moved from home, but kept watch for ever, like a dragon over treasure; and wo to the unhappy youth who dared to visit Esztike--there were few who had courage to make a second trial.

Some said that this Mistress Debora was a sister of the old man; others, that she was his wife. Indeed she might have been his grandmother, for she looked older than the Visegradi tower.[52]

[Footnote 52: An ancient fortress on the Danube.]

It was six whole years since I had shaken the school dust from my boots, and still the gates of paradise were barred against me.

One evening, when the old gentleman had gone out, I could no longer control my impatience; and leaping over the garden wall, I slipped to the back of the house, where I could at least see the windows of the room in which Esztike sat; and there I stood, with a beating heart, and eyes fixed on the shadow of a hand which I distinctly saw through the muslin curtains, moving up and down at some needle-work, while I actually devoured it with my eyes.

Suddenly the hand advanced and knocked violently at the window; it was impossible not to see that it was intended for me, and, while I was hesitating whether to fly towards it or from it, the window burst open, and I thought the Egyptian seven years of leanness had thrust its head out--it was Mistress Debora!

"What do you want there, you good-for-nothing, long-legged horihorgas,[53] staring like a calf at a new gate, eh? Get along about your business, or I will set the dogs after you; if you have nothing better to do, go and seek for grass to make your wisdom-teeth grow;" and with this compliment she closed the window violently.

[Footnote 53: "Horihorgas," _hobbledehoy_.]

It was several minutes ere I could collect my scattered senses. At last, I drew my cap over my eyes, and went home with a heavy heart. I lay gazing all night at the starry heavens; the very thought of sleep was banished from my senses. How could it be otherwise? as often as I tried to think of my little Esztike's beautiful face, the hideous vision of old Mistress Debora rose before me; and to increase my ill humour, all the cats in the neighbourhood seemed to have collected to squall and trill under my window. I contented myself for some time with patiently anathematizing them; but perceiving at last that they were rehearsing operas from end to end, I jumped up, and, seizing a rolling-pin--the first implement which came to my hand, I dashed it amongst the choristers. It was certainly a theatrical stroke, and from that night forward I never had cause to repeat it.

Next morning, however, the black soup[54] awaited me. My father entered the room, with his fox-headed mantle over one shoulder and his lambskin cap drawn over his brow.

[Footnote 54: "Black soup" or black dose, _désagrément_.]

"Well, my lad, you have done for yourself now," he exclaimed; "you knocked out the brains of Mrs. Debora's pet cat last night."

"Phu! this is a bad job indeed! Is there actually no life in him?"

"All gone, _ab intestato_," said my father, holding up the great fat animal, with its four legs hanging down, and its white teeth grinning at me.

I shook my head in despair. If Mistress Debora ever finds this out, there is an end to all hope, and I shall never be able to marry. Alas! why did I allow the cats to put me out of temper? A thought suddenly struck me, and, dressing hastily, I laid the deceased neatly, out in my handkerchief, and, tying up the four corners, started for Mistress Debora's.

At the gate, I found the nine dogs disputing with a Jew, in whose cloak they had made sundry air-holes, while the unfortunate man roared and struggled, to the infinite amusement of the servants.

This was so far propitious for me, as otherwise they might have required my passport also, and it would have been no jesting matter to have struck my uncle's dogs; but happily I got through the kitchen without observation, and looking once more at the four corners, to see that all was right, I knocked humbly at Mistress Debora's door.

"Who is there?" said a voice like the sound of broken crockery.

I opened the door. At the memorable window sat Mistress Debora, who turned round and squinted at me from beneath her spectacles. Her hair--or more probably some other person's--was twisted up behind with a giraffe comb, and the face, which was the colour of brown leather, had more wrinkles than could well find room.

At the other window sat my little ruby at her work. There was not much to be seen from her window, poor child! for a large vetch-stack was piled up before it. As I entered, she blushed to the very shoulders, or at least I fancied so; but her eyes were cast down, and she never ventured to raise them.

"Well, what have you got there?" said Mistress Debora,--instead of wishing me good morning.

I advanced, and, taking up her bony fingers, pressed them against my teeth--bah! I have never been able to pick a bone since. "Ah! my dear, worthy aunt, have you forgotten me? I am that little, fair-haired Peter Csallokozi, who used to bring young pigeons so often to his dear aunt."

"And who used to break my windows so often with pebbles. Well, you have grown big enough, at any rate."

"But my dear aunt has preserved her looks quite wonderfully, or rather I should say, grows younger."

"Ay, I was handsome enough in my day; folks can tell you that I used to wash my face every evening with warm milk, which made my skin so white, one can see that still--(it required imagination); there is not so handsome a girl in the country as I was in my young days--your father may remember that--('when you were young the priest was not born that christened my father,' thought I, but did not say it). For some years past I have lost much of my looks, certainly. Ay, ay, there is nothing lasting under the sun!"

Meanwhile I had been drawing nearer to Esztike, which the dragon observing, desired her to go out and see if the labourers were come. Esztike rose and went out.

"Well, let me hear what you have to say, nephew; and tell it quickly, for we are always busy here."

"To come to the point then, I must observe, dear aunt, that in these days we cannot be too cautious; misfortune meets us at every step, and"--

"Therefore we should stay at home and mind our business. Nothing can happen to us at home."

"Not to ourselves perhaps, but there are other creatures about us, aunt; for instance, you have cats and so have we"--

"Only that ours are handsomer."

"Perfectly true. Well, these cats frequently pay visits--yours to ours, and ours to yours"--

"I know that well enough, for your cats gnaw all the sausages in our attics; but ours don't need to go to you, for they have enough to eat at home. Go, Estike," continued the hag, as the little girl re-entered, "and see if the young peacocks have been fed."

("A time will come, you old witch, when I shall crack nuts with your bones," thought I, but did not say it.) "Well, dear aunt, last night, as I was saying, these innocent creatures had assembled, and were singing away together--it was quite delightful to hear them--when some cruel and treacherous hand knocked out the brains of the handsomest among them."

"Served you right! what business had the cat to be out?"

"It was not our cat that was killed, but yours, dear aunt," I replied, untying the handkerchief, and producing the remains of her favourite.

I shall never forget the look of rage, despair, and horror, which I was doomed to encounter at that moment, and which has often haunted me since, even in my dreams. I pinched myself at last, to assure myself that I had not been turned to stone.

"_My_ cat!" she shrieked, while her eyes glared, and her lips foamed, and, tearing it out of my hands, she began kissing and fondling it like an infant. "Cziczuskam! cziczuskam! look at me--look at me!" she cried, pulling its eyes open. At last she laid it on the table, and, throwing herself upon it, began to weep bitterly.

At that moment Esztike re-entered, and sat down before her little table. Taking advantage of Mistress Debora's emotion, I slipped up to her--to Esztike, not to Mrs. Debora--and, pressing her small white hand in mine, asked, in a tremulous voice, "You are not angry with me, dearest Esztike, are you?"

"Why should I be angry?" said the artless little girl, casting down her eyes, and drawing her hand out of mine.

It was a foolish question, I allow; but when one is in love, wise questions do not always present themselves.

I had scarcely time to look at my little violet, before Mistress Debora again grumbled out, "Esztike, go and see if your father is coming!"

Tartar take the old vampire! I thought she was bewailing her cat. Once more alone with her, however, I endeavoured to console her, spoke of the weather, of the maize crop, of the vines--all in vain. At last she started up--

"Wait, you worthless scamp!" she cried; "whoever you are, who murdered this little innocent creature--I'll find you out, and revenge it on your children's children--(Merciful Heaven! she means to live three generations longer!) I will place the affair before the county, and begin a suit immediately, a _violentialis, infamisationalis_ suit. You shall be avenged, my cruelly murdered, innocent, speckled cat, and I will make you a fearful example to generations still unborn!"

"You are quite right, my dear aunt, your determination is excellent; he deserves the utmost rigour of the law, and I promise you I shall be the first to look out for him."

"Will you really promise that?" exclaimed Mistress Debora; and then followed what I had dreaded might be the consequence of my generous speech. She actually seized and embraced me!

"My dear nephew, you were always a good lad; your father was a worthy man--I love all your family. Find out the murderer of my cat, and I will bless you for it, even after your death!"