A Hungarian Nabob Part 33

The good old man felt his heart fortified by the genuine and touching sincerity of these words, and, after coughing once more with uncommon vigour and resolution, by way of a parting adieu to the temptations of cowardice, and thereby steeling his mind the more, thus replied--

"My lady, you honour me far above my merits by your ladyship's boundless favour, and I feel myself inexpressibly happy and fortunate when I am able to do your ladyship any service, however small. And although it is a hateful thing for such an insignificant person as myself to give his judgment or opinion concerning such distinguished gentlemen and ladies as those whose names stand here before me, nevertheless the love--I beg pardon--the respect I bear towards your ladyship----"

"I like the first word better; let it stand, please!"

"And it is true. I only say what I feel. I also had a daughter once. It was long, very long ago. She was just of the same age as your ladyship; not so beautiful, but she was good, ah, so good! She died long ago, in her youth. And she loved me dearly. But I beg your pardon for making so bold as to speak of the poor thing. But to turn to the business in hand, your ladyship--before I proceed to answer the question before me, pray allow me to make one small remark, by way of advice, which proceeds, believe me, from the purest intention and the utmost good will. First of all, I do not consider it necessary that I should speak to your ladyship at all concerning those persons towards whom--how shall I put it?--towards whom your ladyship cannot feel the fullest confidence; for although G.o.d preserve me from taking any exception to anything in the lives of such distinguished gentlemen and ladies, yet, nevertheless, there may be reasons why it might not be quite desirable for your ladyship to have any intimate relations with them. On the other hand, I will pick out from this list such persons as will respond to your ladyship's goodness and tenderness of heart with equal tenderness of heart and goodness. Those, again, whom I shall humbly venture to pa.s.s over in silence--and I a.s.sume, of course, that they possess in their own honourable persons every recognized good quality--must be taken to be such persons as your ladyship would not care about knowing."

"Excellent, excellent, my good friend! You shall make me acquainted with those only whom I should like, and say nothing about the rest. Ah, you know the world well. That is indeed good advice."

Mr. Varga looked beseechingly at f.a.n.n.y, as if to insist that she was not to praise him too much, or he should get confused again and forget what he wished to say.

Then he took up the long list, and began to go through it, running his finger along it, but so as not to touch the names, lest he might offend their owners by such ign.o.ble contact. Now and then the conducting finger would pause at a name, and Mr. Varga would look up as if about to speak; but in the very act of coughing to give the proper shade of respect to his voice, he would look again at the name singled out by his finger, think better of it, and tacitly schedule it among those who, though blessed with all recognized good qualities, he did not think suitable for his purpose. But as he drew near to the end of the list, he was horror-stricken to observe how many names he had been obliged to pa.s.s over in silence, and drops of honest sweat began to congregate on his forehead as the index finger left ever more and more names behind it--the names of people whom he always treated with the most awful reverence, but not one of whom he would have recommended to the confidence of his daughter, if he had had one. And he had now begun to regard f.a.n.n.y as his own daughter.

Ah! at last his long-drawn features grew round again with satisfaction, and his hand trembled on the paper when it reached a name that it had long been in search of.

"Look, my lady!" said he, extending the list towards her. "This admirable lady is certainly one of those in whom your ladyship can repose your confidence without running the risk of being deceived."

f.a.n.n.y read the name indicated--"Flora Eszeky Szentirmay."

"What is this lady like?" she inquired of the old man.

"Verily, I should have need of very great eloquence to describe her to you worthily. She is rich in all the virtues one looks for in a woman.

Gentleness and prudence go hand in hand with her. The oppressed and downtrodden find in her a secret protector; for she does her good deeds in secret, and forbids grateful tongues to talk about her. Not only is it the hungry, the naked, the sick, and the wretched among whom she distributes bread, garments, medicine, and kind words, who know what a good heart she has; not only is it those under legal sentence, for whom she pleads compa.s.sionately in high places: her benevolence goes much further than all that; for she takes the part of those who are spiritually poor and wretched, those whom the world condemns, poor betrayed girls who have tripped into endless misery, poor women bending beneath the crosses of a hard domestic life; and they all find in her a friend, a defender who can get to the bottom of their hearts. Pardon me for presuming so far. I know right well that there are many other exalted personages who also do a great deal of good to the poor; but they seem only to take thought for the bodily wants of the dest.i.tute, whereas this lady cares for their spiritual needs as well, and thus it comes about that she frequently finds poor sufferers in need of her a.s.sistance, not only in hovels, but in palaces. This lady brings a blessing into every house she enters, and scatters happiness and contentment all round about her. Indeed, I only know of one other lady who is worthy to stand beside her, and nothing would give me greater joy than to see them both at one with each other."

The emotion written on f.a.n.n.y's face showed that she appreciated the tender insinuation.

"Is this lady young?"

"About your ladyship's own age."

"And is she happily married?" f.a.n.n.y was rather speaking to herself than asking a question.

"That she is," replied Varga; "indeed, it would not be possible to find on the whole face of the earth a couple so exactly suited to each other as she and His Excellency Count Rudolf Szentirmay. Oh, that is a great man if you like! Every one admires his intellect and his great qualities, and the whole kingdom praises and exalts him. They say that at one time he was a man disgusted with life, who troubled himself very little about his country; but from the moment when he met his future wife, Flora Eszeky, abroad, a great change came over him, and returning with her to Hungary, he became the benefactor not only of his country but of humanity. But even now G.o.d has rewarded him, for that greatest of blessings, domestic happiness, has fallen to his lot so lavishly that it has become a proverb, and anybody seeing them together would imagine that Paradise had already begun for them on this earth."

An involuntary, an unconscious sigh arose from f.a.n.n.y's breast at these words.

At that moment the rumbling of a coach was audible in the courtyard; a chance guest had arrived. A great bustling about was heard outside, in the midst of which resounded Squire John's stentorian voice. He seemed to be joyfully welcoming some one, and immediately afterwards Martin entered and announced: "Her Excellency the Countess Flora Eszeky Szentirmay!"

f.a.n.n.y, with the trepidation of joy and surprise, awaited the guest who had just been announced. She had tried to form an idea of her, but what would this imaginary figure be like in reality?

How the young lady's heart did beat as footsteps drew nearer and nearer to the door and she heard Karpathy cheerfully conversing with some one!

And now the door opened, and in there came--not that face, not that figure which f.a.n.n.y had imagined, but a tall, dry lady of uncertain age, with a false complexion, false teeth, and false eyes, dressed according to the latest fashion. A monstrous hat covered with whole bouquets of flowers, quite shut out the prospect of everything that was behind her back.

Her mantle was thrown back over her shoulders, which gave a martial, amazonic cast to her figure, and this impression was intensified by the low cut of her dress, which allowed one to catch a good glimpse of her scraggy shoulders and projecting breast-bone, an alarming spectacle. She had hands, moreover, of correspondingly extraordinary leanness, embellished, why I cannot tell, by monstrously big swanskin m.u.f.fs, and as she was unable to move her arms without saying something at the same time, and as she could never speak without laughing, and as whenever she laughed she displayed not only the whole of her upper row of teeth (the best procurable at Dr. Legrieux's, No. 11, Rue Vivienne, Paris), but the whole of her gums as well, she continually kept the attention of whatever company she happened to be in riveted with a horrible fascination on her elbows, her gums, and her breast-bone.

She had come with her niece as a sort of guard of honour, and Flora had sent her on in front while she lingered behind to rally Squire John a little.

Karpathy hastened to make the ladies known to each other: "Dame Marion Countess Szentirmay--Countess Rudolf Szentirmay--my wife."

Dame Marion Szentirmay made the lady of the house the most perfect and unexceptionable curtsy, regarding her all the time with an air that seemed to say, "I wonder if she knows how to return it, poor little ignoramus?"

And, in fact, so confused and taken back was f.a.n.n.y that she scarce knew what to say; moreover, she was so lost in the contemplation of Dame Marion's gums that she hardly had had time to observe Flora. But, indeed, there was no need for her or anybody else to try and find words; on the contrary, if anybody had had any to spare, he would have had to keep them to himself, for Dame Marion always brought with her sufficient conversation to keep a whole a.s.sembly going.

"Pray be seated, ladies! You, Lady Flora, sit down here, by my wife.

Dame Marion, a hundred thousand pardons!"

A glance at the lady's face had suddenly convinced Squire John that she was quite well aware where she ought and meant to sit, without his telling her; and down she sat accordingly, in an armchair on the other side of the room.

"I must ask your pardon, my dear neighbour," began Dame Marion, in an artificial sort of style, belonging to none of the recognized categories of rhetoric, and which continually suggested the suspicion that the speaker was rolling something about in her mouth which she was too lazy to spit out--"I must ask your pardon, _chere voisine_--we live, you know, close to the Karpathy estate in these parts" (_i.e._ It belongs neither to you nor to your husband, but to the Karpathy family)--"for making so bold as to interrupt you in your occupations" (_i.e._ I should like to know what _you_ can find to occupy yourself with, forsooth!), "for although, of course, we ought to have waited for Squire John Karpathy to have introduced us, in the first instance, to the wife so worthy of his love, which is the regular course" (_i.e._ Perhaps you don't know that: how could you?), "nevertheless, as we happened to be pa.s.sing this way" (_i.e._ Don't imagine we came here on purpose!), "and I have a long-standing legal suit with Squire John Karpathy" (_i.e._ So, you see, you have to thank me and our suit, for our visit; not Countess Rudolf's kindness, as you may perhaps suppose)--"and a pretty old suit it is by this time! for I was young, a mere child, in fact, when it began, ha, ha!--By the way," she continued, flying off at a tangent, "they advised us to put an end to the suit by arranging a match between me and Karpathy. I was young then, as I have said--a mere child, ha, ha!--but I would not entertain the idea, ha, ha! I made a mistake, no doubt; for how rich should I not have been now, a good _partie_, eh!"

(_i.e._ Squire John was already an old man when I was your age; but I did not sell myself for his wealth, as you have done!) "Well, you are a lucky fellow, Karpathy, _you_, at any rate, have nothing to complain of.

A wife so worthy of your love as yours is, is a treasure you really do not deserve" (_i.e._ Don't give yourself airs, you little fool! Don't fancy people praise you for your beauty as if it were a merit! You ought to be ashamed that it is only your beauty that has made a lady of you!).

Here Dame Marion lost for a moment the thread of her discourse, which gave Flora an opportunity of bending over f.a.n.n.y and whispering in her ear, in a gentle, confidential voice--

"I have long wished to meet you, and have been on the point of coming over every day."

f.a.n.n.y gratefully pressed her hand.

A beneficent attack of coughing here prevented Dame Marion from resuming her conversation. Karpathy inquired after his friend Rudolf, Lady Flora's husband, expressing the hope that he would not forget his promise to honour Karpatfalva with his presence on the occasion of the entertainment that was coming off there in honour of the young bride.

"Oh, he must be here by then," replied Flora; "he gave me his word that he would be back home in time for it."

Then turning towards f.a.n.n.y, Flora continued, "I have been expecting to meet you everywhere. We country-folks about here are pretty lively, and are always delighted to see our circle increased; and now that we have met at last, we will conspire amiably together to make every one around us feel happy."

Dame Marion, however, at once hastened to weaken any pleasant impression which these words might have produced.

"Karpathy naturally makes a mystery of his wife's whereabouts. The sly rogue would hide her away, so that n.o.body may catch a glance of her but himself"--(_i.e._ the old fool is afraid to show her, and with good reason).

"Oh, my husband is most kind and obliging," f.a.n.n.y hastened to object; "but I must own to feeling a sort of hesitation--I might even call it fear--at the prospect of appearing in such lofty circles. I was brought up among quite simple folks, and I feel exceedingly obliged to your ladyships for giving me so much encouragement."

"Naturally, naturally!" returned Dame Marion. "It is most natural, and could not very well be otherwise. A young wife is in the most difficult position conceivable when she first makes her entry into the great world; especially when, from the nature of the case, she is obliged to do without what is most necessary for her, what should be her surest support--a mother's advice, a mother's guidance. Oh, a mother's watchful providence is of inestimable importance to a young wife!"

f.a.n.n.y felt her eyes grow burning hot, and her face flushed purple; she could not help it. Alas! to speak of a mother before her was to cause her the most terrible torture, the most piercing shame!

Flora convulsively pressed the young lady's hand in her own, and, as if simply continuing the conversation, she said--

"Yes, indeed; nothing makes up for the loss of a mother."

Shortly afterwards old Karpathy and Dame Marion repaired to the family archives, where the family fiscal and Mr. Varga were awaiting them, in order to discuss their eternal lawsuit once again for the hundredth time or so, and the two young women were left alone.

The door had scarce closed behind Dame Marion when f.a.n.n.y, with the most pa.s.sionate impetuosity, suddenly seized Flora's hand with both her own, and before the latter had had time to prevent her, pressed the pretty little hand to her lips and covered it with kisses--kisses that came straight from her burning heart. Again and again she heaped her kisses upon it, but could not utter a word.

"Ah, my G.o.d! what are you doing?" said Flora; and thus, in order to prevent f.a.n.n.y from repeating her action, she took her in her arms, kissed her face, and compelled her to do the same.

"Oh!" sobbed f.a.n.n.y, "I know that you are the ministering angel of the whole country-side. As soon as I had arrived here, I heard them talking of you, and from what they said I could well picture to myself what you were. You must have already guessed that in me you would find a poor creature, who was also in need of your charity; but the greatness of that benefit only I could know, only I could feel. Say not that it is not so! Permit me to remain in that happy belief! Permit me to go on loving you as I loved you from the first moment I beheld you. Oh, let me hold fast to the thought: here is a blessed being who thinks of me, pities me, and has made me happy!"