CHAPTER XVI.
Raby had said nothing to Fruzsinka of what had happened at thecommission. But when the guest had gone, he brought out his travellingbag and began to pack up as if for a journey.
"Is it possible you are going on a journey?" asked Fruzsinkareproachfully, "without telling me? Don't you know that the wife packsfor her husband?"
Raby did not want his wife to guess whither he was bound. So he made herbelieve he was only going as far as Tyrnau to take the officialdepositions regarding the Szent-Endre affair; though since thecommission had reduced the whole business to such a farce, how toproduce his proofs and, as prosecutor, lay the matter before them athead-quarters, he hardly knew himself. So he told her he could not takeher with him, because he would have to travel by diligence or in apeasant's cart, and such a jaunt would be too trying in winter for adelicate woman.
"Now if I were you, I would not go to Tyrnau; I would rather go straightto Vienna, and tell the Emperor himself what roguery is going forwardhere."
Raby was astounded. This was precisely what he had intended to do, andthe journey to Tyrnau had only been a pretext.
"I would lay the whole plot before him," went on Fruzsinka, "and wouldsay, 'Sire, send a man in my place who may bring these conspirators tobook, and make an end to their intrigues.'"
Raby began to understand. Then he said aloud: "But I don't know of anyman who would take on such an unthankful business."
"Is it possible that you mean then to go on with the struggle?" askedFruzsinka plaintively. "Dearest, I beseech you, think of our position.We are living among enemies. Those who were not ashamed to set fire tothe wood, to wipe out the proof of their guilt, will not shrink fromburning our own house over our heads. I tremble each time you go out,and have no peace till I see you again. Every night I dream they havemurdered you. O Raby, the very thought of living among these peoplemakes me shudder, there are surely no other such vindictive folk on theface of the earth. Come away from this place. Let us go to Vienna! Thereyour career is made. Leave this thankless, malevolent people to theirfate!"
Mathias Raby's heart grew suddenly heavy, and a dark misgiving grippedhim in its clutches.
"You would be the first to despise me," he exclaimed, "were I to beweakened by your words, and quit my post to fly to another country."
"Do you mean then to continue the struggle?"
"It is no question of struggle, but rather of right and wrong and justpunishment," he answered gloomily.
"Ah, well! I suppose it is only womanly weakness that gets the best ofme. Yet I, too, have thought out the whole affair. You mean that theembezzlements which you have brought to light shall be avenged?"
"Yes, that is what I do mean!"
"Now, has it ever occurred to you that if anyone investigates thisaffair, at least a part of the odium which it incurs, may fall on yourwife?"
"How can that be, Fruzsinka?"
"You remember that absurd housekeeping account, don't you?"
"Yes, indeed, the one we all laughed at so heartily. But how would yourname be mentioned in connection with such a business? The items were setdown by the head cook, and the prefect settled the account."
"But everyone knows that it was to my advantage. Now suppose I wasconfronted with the prefect and the cook, in the case of a formalinquiry? Would not it be a disgrace for you?"
"And pray would it not be a disgrace," returned Raby, "if your husbandhad to make this confession to the Emperor who sent him: 'Sire, I am nobetter than all the others you have sent to right your subjects' wrongs,and here I have come back to tell you that everywhere in this worldroguery reigns triumphant.' And if he answered me never a word but justlooked at me with those keen eyes of his, what shame should I not feel?You shrink at being confronted with the prefect, because the leastmorsel of the pitch which sticks to him may perchance darken the tip ofyour little finger, but you do not blush that I may stand before theEmperor and say: 'Sire, here is my wife, with whose paint I have daubedthe prefect white.'"
Frau Fruzsinka at this changed her point of attack.
"Remember," she urged, "that if we fly in the face of my uncle, we risklosing a considerable property."
Now it was Raby's turn.
"You fear the prospect of losing the property, but I tremble at thechance of your possessing it."
"I do not understand," faltered his wife.
"I quite believe you," returned Raby bitterly.
Fruzsinka dared not pursue this tack further, it was time to tryanother. She threw herself on her husband's neck, and gazed with thosewonderful eyes of hers straight into his.
"Raby, did we swear that we would make the people, or ourselves happy,which was it, dear?"
At those words, and that glance, Raby's heart softened.
What can one advance to those most unanswerable of arguments?
Who will blame Mathias Raby if he weakly gave way then, as many a strongman had done before him, and threw his half-packed bag into a corner.
And as the temptress had gone so far, now she proceeded still further:
"Now I'll unpack for you," she cried merrily.
Thereupon, she took the hunting-pouch from the wall and carefully filledit with savoury spiced meat and flaky white bread; then she deftlyreplenished the flask with wine, and cried: "Now go and enjoy yourself!Don't stay mewed up in the house. You are bothered; well, go and getsome sport, and let the fresh air blow the cobwebs away."
And so saying, she helped him on with his shooting coat, and handed himhis gun, and so it fell out that Raby hung up his sword and knapsack,and went neither to Tyrnau nor to Vienna, but just into the copse to tryand shoot hares. He heard behind him, as he left the house, the merrysong his wife was warbling to herself.
As he sauntered along the street, it occurred to him that up till now hehad not met one of his former acquaintances in the town, nor seen asingle one of his old schoolmates.
But just then, he ran on to a townsman, whose wasted bent frame anddejected air did not prevent Raby from recognising him as one of his oldcontemporaries. The man wore a leathern apron, and carried carpenters'tools. He returned Raby's greeting politely and was about to shufflepast him. But the latter stopped him.
"Dacso Marczi! Is it possible? Are you really Marczi? And won't you justwait that we may have a word together; it is so long since we havemet."
And he seized the limp hand of the stranger and held it fast.
"Oh, I am indeed glad to see your worship again," returned his new-foundfriend.
"Never mind 'my worship,' you can leave him out of it," said Raby."Didn't we sit beside each other at school, and you would pass mewithout a word? Tell me how things are going with you?"
The man looked round to left and right, and in his eyes there lurked anameless fear.
"Well, as far as that goes," he began, "but don't let us talk here, itis not wise to discuss these things in the street."
Raby dropped his hand. "Ah, you are afraid suspicion may rest on you ifyou are seen talking to me!"
"It is not that. But I fear, on the contrary, that it might beunpleasant for you, if you were seen talking to a mere carpenter. I amjust going to look after my mates in the lower town who are putting newjoists to the burned houses. May Heaven bless your efforts to help thepoor people!" added the man in a lower voice.
"Good, I'll go with you," said Raby, "it's all the same to me which wayI take."
"But don't let yourself be drawn into talk with them. They are alwaysready to complain, and there are always people ready to repeat all thatis said."
So they walked together down the street--the dapper sportsman, and theworking-man in his leather apron.
Raby well remembered the houses they passed, and their owners, and askedafter the latter.
"Yes, they all live there still, but the houses no longer belong tothem. The magistrate has bought one, the notary another, and PeterPaprika a third. The original owners are only there as tenants, and nowthey have put an execution in the houses."
"And wherefore?"
"For what was owing for tithes."
"And is old Sajtos still there, who used to be so good to us boys whenwe came home from school?"
"Yes, indeed, you may see her any Sunday at the church door begging."
"Sajtos begging? Why she was quite a well-to-do woman. What has happenedto her?"
"Oh, the old story, 'bad times.' There are many more who have come tobeggary in the same way. Just go any Sunday morning past the door of theCatholic church, where the beggars congregate, and you will see plentyof your old acquaintances," said Marczi sorrowfully.
"But what has brought them to it?"
And Marczi told him many a sad record of oppression and misery thatwrung Raby's heart as he listened.
But now they had arrived at the lower town, where the ruins of the fortyhouses burned out in the great fire still stood. The streets hereaboutswere nearly a morass and all but impassable.
The men who were commencing to put the roofs on, greeted Raby timidly,as if half afraid, and they quickly drove indoors the women who stoodfurtively about in the surrounding courts. Raby's questions they onlyanswered with the greatest caution, fencing with his enquiries as to whythe work of restoration had been so long delayed. Marczi drew him away.
"They will never tell you where the shoe pinches," he said, "whateverbait you offer; they know too well what the end for them would be. Youwould listen to their grievance and then retail it to the Emperor. Hewould send to the town council to know why his subjects' wrongs were notredressed? Thereupon the complainants would be arrested, get twentystrokes with the lash, and the Kaiser would be told the grievances ofhis subjects were amended. Oh, our people know better than to complain!At no price would they confess why their houses are yet unfinished, orhow much of the compensation is still owing."
"Surely their wrongs cry aloud to Heaven," said Raby indignantly. "Ionly wish I could get documentary evidence of it!"
"Well, they won't give it to you, but if you really wish it, I could getyou many such testimonies by to-morrow, and bring them to your house."
"And are you not afraid of the authorities being angry with you?"
"I? What does their anger matter to me, I don't need them, but theycan't do without me. I've got them too much in my power. Listen, for youare an honest man, to no other would I venture to say it. One day theysummoned me to bring my masons' tools to the Town Hall. No sooner had Iarrived, than they bid me go to the secret passage with the notary,which only he and I know of; the aperture was made during the Turkishrule, and except the notary and the Rascian 'pope,' no one knows thewhereabouts. I had to wall up the opening."
"So you know the entrance to the room which contains the secrettreasure?"
"Yes, indeed, I know it; I have so managed it that no one save thenotary shall ever be able to find it again."
"And would you be willing to take me to it?" Raby ventured to ask.
"No, for they have bound me by a terrible oath never, except at thebidding of the notary, to break open the walled-up passage. What I havesworn, I hold sacred, but this much will I say, that you can stillmanage to get there."
"Through the 'pope' who knows the other entrance, eh?"
"Mark well, not through the first. It is as much as his life is worth tobetray that secret. But there is another way yet. If you can gain theear of the Emperor, persuade him to order the election of newrepresentatives in the council, then there would be neither the judge,nor the notary, nor any at present in office to reckon with. If we get anew notary, I could show him the secret passage without any difficulty,since my oath compels me only to 'open it at the notary's bidding.'"
"That is a good idea, Marczi, I will try and follow it out."
"You too care for the rights of our poor oppressed folk. May the goodGod reward you! But I will tell you where our greatest danger lies; itis in the surveying of the land that the Emperor has ordered. The wholework the surveyor performs is a sham. The best fields under his surveybecome ownerless, and the municipality takes possession of them. Thecommon folk have to be satisfied with sterile, marshy waste land, andthe peasants have to sell their last cow, because they have no pasturefor it. Come with me a little way, and I will show you."
So Raby sauntered the livelong day with his old school-fellow throughthe fields, and saw much. If the new surveying measures were taken,four-fifths of the peasants' property was ruined, the remaining fifthwas devoured by their oppressors, and the owner became houseless and aserf.
Towards evening, Raby turned homewards with an empty game-bag and aheavy heart.
His mood surely had not escaped Fruzsinka, for she welcomed him withmore than ordinary tenderness. She had prepared for his supper some ofhis favourite dumplings, but somehow even these delicacies failed tosatisfy him, and he only wanted to go to bed.
The next morning, Marczi was there quite early. He brought what he hadpromised, a whole hoard of documents. Raby took them into his study, andwas the whole day long deciphering them.
* * * * *
Marczi, meantime, went about his own business.
As he came out towards the market-place, at the end of the long street,he heard the tones of a bagpipe, and the strains of a violin fell on hisear. But when he came up with the music, he saw what was going forward.The recruiting officers were coming down the street.
So the Emperor wanted soldiers, that was evident enough.
And a right merry affair it was, this recruiting!
They chose out from among the hussars the finest looking fellow, and hewas sent from town to town with a dozen comrades to enlist recruits.
They played and sang some such song as this as they went:
"Merry is the game we play, See, our uniforms so gay, And the ensign that we bear, 'Twas our sweethearts placed it there!"
They each carried a bottle of good wine in their hands, and everycitizen they met was promptly treated to a cup, till he noticed thatthey wore the hussar uniform. But no human power, once he had tasted thewine, could then free him, and he belonged thenceforth to the recruitingsergeants.
The recruiters reaped the best harvest in the market-place, where theyled a riotous dance. It was a regular Magyar measure, a wild, capricious"Csardas," with a dash in it of defiant pride, every movement andgesture suggesting reckless abandon. The clapping of hands, the clinkingof spurs, the stamping of feet, all helped towards it, and when the lastmovement came, foot and heel vied with each other, as the tall figuresswayed hither and thither, with the sabre swinging jauntily at theirsides, and the "csako" on their heads. No wonder that with a dozen suchwarriors dancing in a row, the women's eyes sparkled as they watched,and they beckoned to the tallest men in the crowd to come and join in.
The recruiters had finished their dance, and were coming along thestreet where Marczi was walking.
In front was the recruiting-sergeant, and he seemed in a right merrymood. Behind him came the piper, taking wild leaps and bounds as heplayed an accompaniment to the dancers on his bagpipes; then followedthe rest, strutting along like peacocks, offering the bottle to all theymet.
Marczi did not look at them; he was in too much of a hurry. But therecruiting-sergeant stopped him.
"Halloa, comrade, won't you stop for a word? Anyone would think you hadstolen something by the way you run."
"I am in a hurry. I have a job I want to finish. You have done yourwork, I see?"
"Don't be a fool, man, we can only live once. Have a drink!"
"The deuce take your drink. Don't you see that to-day I've carpenteringbusiness on hand. It won't do for me to get giddy when I'm on theladder."
"Well, a gulp of wine wouldn't do you any harm. You don't go any furthertill you've had a swallow from my bottle, I tell you."
"Oh, very well," and Marczi took the proffered drink.
"Here's to our true friendship, comrade!" said the other as he followedsuit.
Marczi was turning away, having thus gratified his in
terlocutor, whenthe latter called him back.
"Marczi, Marczi!" he called, "here's something for you. Here, hold outyour hand!"
And the recruiting-sergeant pulled out a thaler from his coat-pocket,and forced it into Marczi's hand, shaking it as he did so.
This time the carpenter would have gone off in earnest, but the othercalled him back in quite a peremptory tone.
"Dacso Marczi," he shouted, "you must stay, you can't go now. You havedrunk of the soldier's wine, and accepted the press-money, now there isno drawing back, so off you march with the rest!"
The carpenter stood dumbfoundered whilst they pressed an hussar's"csako" on his head. He felt for the handle of his saw in the belt ofhis apron. For one instant he had a wild impulse to fall upon thesergeant; but then he reflected, it was all his own fault. So heresigned himself to his fate. What had he to regret, indeed, in leavingthis town? There was no one there who would weep for him. So he quietlytook off his apron.
"If I am to be a soldier, let us see where the wine bottle is. Piper,play my favourite song, 'A soldier's life for me!'"
"The Danube waters long shall flow 'Ere thou again my face shalt know."
"Now, Mr. Corporal, are you ready? Off we go, and walk and talk tillmorning."
And the newly-made soldier drank with the recruiters to his newprofession.
On the morrow, the recruiting-sergeant went with the ex-carpenter to hisold home, so that he might arrange his affairs there before leaving. Hehad an old aunt to whom he could safely entrust his belongings. Besides,ten years after all, are not an eternity. They pass before one can lookround.
The good old soul was busy tying up her nephew's bundle, when amessenger appeared with an official air, and the order:
"Dacso Marczi, it is settled at head-quarters that the recruiters are tostay a week here; during that time you are to stop here and not attemptto go anywhere else; but you are to put your three horses to, and driveto-day with relays to Pesth."
Marczi was inclined to rebel, but it availed nothing.
The sergeant only laughed.
"It's no jest, Marczi. They reckon on you for the relays. A gulden forevery horse and each station, besides money for the driver, and fordrinks."
"But why should I go with relays, when there are plenty of carriageowners who have nothing better to do than to chatter with jackanapes?"
"My dear fellow, this is why, so you shall not think we are getting thebest of you. You know that the surveyor has finished his work and is toleave the town to-day. You know, too, how angry the mob are with him.They will pelt him with stones. But if they see that you, whom they alllike, are the coachman, they won't do it for fear of hitting you."
In half an hour from that time, a light carriage, drawn by three goodhorses, stood at the gate of the prefect's residence, where the surveyorwas staying. On the box sat Dacso Marczi himself. The orderlies carriedout the surveyor's documents, done up in large bundles, to lay themunder the leather covering of the back seat. The surveyor himself waswell guarded against the cold, having on a seasonable fur coat and warmovershoes, while the lappets of his fur cap were fastened well under hischin.
"Now, Marczi, if you drive well, we'll drink to-day to any amount," hecried.
"Ay, that we will," agreed the driver as they dashed off.
* * * * *
Mathias Raby was again pressed by his wife to go and get some shooting.Perhaps he might be more lucky to-day, and bring home a hare.
His spouse was all affection and anxiety. So he went.
But the things Raby had heard lately he could not get out of his head.
Therefore he did not go far into the country, but turned back in thedirection of Pesth. There, he saw a mob of men, women, and children, whoall seemed to be waiting for someone.
He would not ask for whom, for he knew they would not tell him.
But hardly had Raby gone a few hundred paces past them, than he noted acarriage drawn by three horses, coming from the prefecture at a quickgallop, whereupon the whole crowd of people, till now silent, burstforth with loud cries, and placed themselves on either side of the road.
The passenger inside the carriage he did not recognise; neither could hemake out what it was the mob were shouting to him. But their tone wassufficiently menacing. As the equipage dashed between the rows ofpeople, the yells became still louder, whilst fists were raised andsticks were brandished threateningly. The carriage did not stop, butcleared the mob till it had left it far behind.
When the carriage reached Raby, he saw the surveyor cowering on the backseat. Now he gathered what the people's cries had meant. But he did notunderstand what it was till the carriage pulled up close to him, and herecognised in the driver, Dacso Marczi.
"Your very humble servant," exclaimed the surveyor to Raby. "Did youhear the infernal row they made? That's the way they receive meeverywhere. If Marczi had not been my coachman, I should have had stonesthrown at my head."
"Your worship," cried Marczi, in a voice already thick with wine; "isthere still some brandy in the flask?"
"Yes, Marczi, here you are, drink!"
The coachman took the bottle and emptied it.
"Marczi, you will do yourself harm!" objected Raby.
"Not a bit of it," stammered the driver, whilst he set down the flask,and with that he whipped up the horses, and off they flew, so that thewheels scattered the mud on all sides.
At one spot where the high road nears the Danube, a side-path winds inthe direction of the river towards the ferry. When Marczi's carriage hadreached this point, the coachman turned the horses and urged them withthe whip along the path. Then all at once the carriage dashed from thesteep bank into the river below.
"Help, help!" yelled the driver, waving his hat; but horses and carriagewere already struggling against the strong tide of the river, nowswollen by its spring flood.
But no help was forthcoming, and Raby only saw a man muffled up in a furcoat, struggling desperately to free himself from the sinking carriage,but the heavy garment dragged him helplessly down. Soon the vehicle withits passenger began to sink, and at last the horses' heads disappearedin the stream. Coachman, surveyor, and documents all had gone to thebottom of the Danube. Nor was any trace of them ever found.
Mathias Raby stood horror-stricken on the highway, while around him thewintry wind swept over the stubble fields, and carried it with the soundas of a howling of many voices that echoed afar off like the laughter ofdespair.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.