A Hungarian Nabob Part 35

Finally, you will do well to talk of nothing at all in her presence, for the slightest thing is likely to upset her nerves.

"Ah! next comes the Countess Kereszty. She is an excellent woman. She has a tall, muscular, masculine figure, with thick, broad eyebrows. She never speaks in a voice lower than what is usually required for commanding a regiment; while her gruffest voice is sufficient to utterly embarra.s.s a nervous man, especially as she has a trick of perpetually interrupting the person talking to her with her 'How--why--wherefore's?'

and, when she begins to laugh, the whole room trembles. She dragoons every a.s.sembly which she honours with her presence; and whomsoever she is angry with had much better have been born blind. Our very young men have a cold ague fit when they see her, for she inspires them with as much terror as any professor, and, besides that, can speak fluent Latin, has the code at her fingers' ends, can hold her own against the most astute of advocates, drinks like a fish, and revels in tobacco. It is true she does not drive her own horses; but, should the coachman drive badly, she is quite capable of s.n.a.t.c.hing the whip from his hand and belabouring him with the handle. For the rest, she is the best-hearted creature in the world, and readily makes friends. Kiss her hand, and call her 'My lady sister,' and you need not have the slightest fear of her; for she will love you, make herself your champion, and woe betide whomsoever dares to disparage you behind your back when she is present, for she will make them stampede in every direction.

"And now we come to Lady Szepkiesdy. She is a quiet, silent woman, whom it is impossible to offend. Her husband has found out from experience that nothing pains her; but, on the other hand, there is nothing that can make her happy. And her whole face, her whole figure, seems to express but one wish, but one desire--the longing to be under the sod as soon as possible."

"Poor lady!"

"And she is also tormented by the knowledge that every pretty face she sees will cause her misery involuntarily; for her husband pays his court to every one of them in her presence. She was esteemed a great beauty once upon a time; but care and sorrow have made her quite old within the last two years."

"Poor lady!" sighed f.a.n.n.y.

"And now let me introduce you to Madame George Malnay. Beware of her.

She will be eternally flattering you, in the hope that some secret, some unguarded word may escape you. She is a veritable Mephistopheles in female form. She is the enemy of every one she knows; but whenever she meets you she will kiss and embrace you, till you fancy she is quite in love with you. It is of no use quarrelling with her. The very next day she will embrace, kiss, and traduce you, as if nothing had happened. The best way is to keep clear of her. Receive her, therefore, with a cold, forbidding countenance. She'll requite you, perhaps, by calling you boorish and underbred behind your back; but that is the kindest thing you can expect from her."

f.a.n.n.y gratefully pressed Lady Szentirmay's hand. What blunders she must have made but for her!

"And is there any one really worth mentioning among so many?" she asked.

"Yes; Dame Marion."

"Really!"

"She is just as you saw her; she is always like that. And it is no affectation, but her natural character."

"Then what is her real character?"

"Well, she is--like the rest of them--a treacherous scandalmonger, with an ill word for every one, who takes a delight in picking out people's most secret faults; but you need not fear her, for she loves you sincerely, and will never betray, disparage, or injure you behind your back. Have you not found that out already?"

f.a.n.n.y, half-laughing half-weeping, hid her head in her friend's bosom, and embraced her tightly; and then they kissed each other, and laughed at the facility with which they also had fallen into the scandalizing ways of the world.

CHAPTER XII.

THE HOUSE-WARMING.

Carriage after carriage rumbled into the courtyard of Karpathy Castle.

Every sort and kind of four-wheeled conveyance was visible that day within the gates of the crowded mansion.

There seemed to be no end to the continuous flow of guests, male and female, and Madame Karpathy won and captivated every heart. Of course she had the immense advantage of knowing them all beforehand, of knowing their weak and their strong points, their virtues and vices; but it is due to her to add that she had learnt her lesson excellently well, and turned it to the best advantage. She received Count Szepkiesdy with all the grave respect due to the most honourable of patriots, and a.s.sured him that she had long since learnt to admire him as a great orator and a n.o.ble-minded man. The Count inwardly cursed and swore at meeting with some one who regarded him as a hero. To Count Gregory Erdey she extended a smiling salutation from afar, which he requited by saluting her with his hat in one hand and his wig in another, which provoked a roar of Homeric laughter from the a.s.sembled guests. The young buffoon had had his head clean shaved in order that his hair might grow all the stronger, so that his bald pate quite scared the weak-nerved members of the company. The young housewife curtsied low in humble silence before the _Foispan_ Count Sarosdy and his wife, whereby she greatly pleased that aristocratic patriot. He admitted that middle-cla.s.s girls are not so bad when they have been brought up in gentlemen's families. And f.a.n.n.y completely won the favour of his consort by impressing upon her servants to be constantly in attendance on her ladyship, and fulfil all her wishes; for, although Countess Sarosdy had brought two of her own maids with her, she did not consider them sufficient. On the arrival of the Countess Kereszty, f.a.n.n.y joyfully rushed forward, and kissed her hand before she could prevent it; whereupon the amazonian dame, first of all, seized her with both her muscular arms, and held her at arm's length, at the same time wrinkling her thick black eyebrows as if to scrutinize her the better, and then drew her towards her, patting her on the back all the time, and exclaiming in her ba.s.s-viol-like voice, "We like each other, my little sister; we like each other, eh?" Yes, there could be no doubt about it, f.a.n.n.y was a success. Her beauty won the hearts of the gentlemen, and her correct deportment the good opinions of the ladies.

Shortly afterwards the dinner-bell rang, and the company, with a great clatter and still greater good-humour, occupied the tables, from a description of which I conscientiously abstain--firstly and lastly because such things as dinner-tables are only diverting _in natura_, but infinitely tiresome in books. There was all the wealth, pomp, splendour and profusion that the occasion and the reputation of the Nabob demanded; there was everything procurable for man's enjoyment, from the native products of Hungarian cookery to the masterly creations of French gastronomic art, and of wines every sort imaginable. The dinner lasted far into the night, and towards the end of it the company began to grow uproarious. The great patriot, as usual, related his lubricous, equivocal anecdotes without troubling himself very much as to whether ladies were present or not. He was wont to say _Castis sunt omnia casta_, "To the pure all things are pure," and whoever blushed had, no doubt, a good reason for blushing, and was therefore corrupt enough already. The ladies, however, pretended not to hear, and began conversing with their neighbours without taking any notice of the hoa.r.s.e laughter of the young bucks, who held it a point of honour to applaud the witticisms of the great patriot.

Nevertheless every one did his best to enjoy himself as much as possible.

And who so happy as the Nabob?

It occurred to him that, scarce a year ago, he had sat in the same place where he was sitting now, and had seen a horrible sight; and now he saw by his side a young and enchanting wife, and around him a merry lively host of guests with cheerful, smiling faces.

And now from the adjoining chamber resounded, alternately grave and gay, the notes of the Bihari fiddlers; one or two of the young wags thereupon pushed their chairs away, went out among the gipsies, and fell a dancing with each other. The more loquacious of the patriots who remained behind began drinking the health of every fellow-guest present, in turn, especially toasting the host and hostess; thence proceeding to drink to the success of all manner of abstract objects, such as social unions, counties and colleges, and other contemporary inst.i.tutions. Count Szepkiesdy made a long speech, into which he very neatly interwove every applauded phrase which he had uttered during the last twelve months at public a.s.semblies. There were some present who had heard this speech at least four times already, but this did not prevent anybody from cheering him vociferously: we know, of course, that a good thing cannot be repeated too often. Squire John himself was invincible as a toast-responder, and if I were not obliged in this particular to give the pre-eminence to an honoured lady, the amazonian Countess Kereszty, I should have said that, for witty sallies and the draining of b.u.mpers, he was the hero of the evening.

In any case he deserves peculiar praise for one thing: in the midst of all this talking and toasting he it was who first of all bethought him of raising his gla.s.s in honour of two young men who were not actually present--to wit Count Stephen and Count Rudolf; and he so worthily extolled the superlative merits of these gentlemen, as to evoke an unprecedented burst of enthusiasm, the very ladies themselves seizing brimmers and clinking them with him.

While every face was still beaming with delight, a lackey entered, and delivered a letter to Lady Szentirmay which a rapid runner had brought from Szentirma.

Flora with a beating heart recognized her husband's writing on the cover, and she begged leave to retire and open it. This was the signal for release and departure, the whole company quitting the tables, and scattering in the adjoining rooms. Flora and f.a.n.n.y flew off to their bedrooms un.o.bserved, to read the precious letter in all peace and quietness; for f.a.n.n.y, also, naturally wanted to know what was in the letter.

The lady broke the seal with a hand that trembled for joy, and, after pressing the letter to her heart, read its contents, which were as follows:--

"To-morrow I shall be at Karpatfalva. There we shall meet. Rudolf.

1000." This "thousand" signified a thousand kisses.

How delighted the beloved wife was! Again and again she kissed the place where her husband's name was written, as if to s.n.a.t.c.h beforehand at least a hundred of the consignment of kisses; and then she concealed it in her bosom, as if to preserve the remaining nine hundred till later on; then she drew it forth once more, and read it over again, as if she could not quite remember the whole contents of the letter, but must needs read it anew in order to understand it properly; and then she kissed it over and over again until, at last, she herself did not know how many kisses she had taken.

And f.a.n.n.y fully shared the joy of her friend, joy is so contagious.

To-morrow Rudolf will arrive, and how nice it will then be for Flora!

She will see the greatest joy that a loving heart can imagine, and will not be a bit jealous--no! she will rejoice in another's joy, rejoice in the happiness of her best friend, who possesses as her very own, so to speak, the man in whose honour every one has spoken so well and made such pretty speeches. And to-morrow he will be here; and, to make his wife happy till he comes, he has notified the day of his arrival. He does not come surrept.i.tiously, unawares, like one who is jealous; but he lets her know of his coming beforehand, like one who is well a.s.sured of how greatly, how very greatly he is loved. Oh what a joy it will be even to look upon such happiness!

The two ladies with radiantly happy faces returned to the company, which diverted itself till midnight, when every one retired to his own room.

Squire John helped his guests to their repose with a musical accompaniment, the gipsy band proceeding from window to window and intoning beneath each one a sleep-compelling symphony. Finally, the last note died away, and everybody dozed off, and dreamed beautiful dreams.

The hunters dreamt of foxes (there was to be a hunt on the morrow), the orators dreamt of a.s.semblies, Mr. Malnay dreamt of parties, Lady Szentirmay dreamt of her husband, and f.a.n.n.y dreamt of that beautiful smiling countenance she had been thinking of so often, and which looked at her so kindly with its eloquent blue eyes and spoke to her with such a wondrously sweet voice. It is permissible, of course, to dream of anything.

Well, to-morrow!

CHAPTER XIII.

THE HUNT.

Early next morning the hunting-horns awoke the guests. Those who had gone to sleep thinking of hunting, and had dreamt of hunting, at once sprang to their feet at that joyous sound. The others, who would gladly have compounded with themselves for an extra half-hour and allowed their heavy eyelids just one more little snooze, were violently thwarted in their inclinations by the ever-increasing racket which suddenly dominated Karpathy Castle; for the bustling to and fro of heavy boots, the sound of familiar voices in the halls and parlours, the baying of dogs in the courtyard, the cracking of whips, and the neighing of horses would have sufficed to disturb the sweet slumbers of the Seven Sleepers themselves. But what is the use of expecting moderation or discretion from sportsmen? The most exquisite of drawing-room dandies, when he prepares him for the chase, puts on quite another character with his hunting boots and cap, and considers himself justified in making as much row as possible, and bawls in a voice that is quite different to his own.

Day had scarcely dawned when the fully dressed guests came into the hall to show themselves and have a look at the weather. The more original young bucks were dressed in coats with large flapping sleeves, vests with broad flat b.u.t.tons, and velvet caps with crane's feathers; the elegants, on the other hand, affected tightly fitting dolmans and spiral hats; only the buffoon, Count Gregory, was got up, _a l'Anglaise_, in a red cut-away coat, and piteously begged every one to explain to the dogs that he was not the fox.

Most of the ladies were also in hunting attire, the close-clinging bodices exhibiting to admiration their amazonian figures; while the long trains had to be held up, lest the spurred and booted heroes around them should trample ruthlessly thereon. And who so beautiful amongst all these beauties as Flora and f.a.n.n.y!

And now the bell rang inviting the guests to breakfast. Sausage and herb pottage, dishes _a la fourchette_, and corresponding drams of strong spirit awaited them in the dining-room. There was no affectation or finnicking now: all alike were sportsmen. The sweetest, prettiest ladies did not refuse, at the request of their admirers, to moisten their rosy lips with a few drops of thirty-years old szilvorium: everything was permissible now, and, besides, they had need of strong hearts to-day.

Even the elderly women meant to accompany the huntsmen in carriages.

It was a glorious summer morning when the imposing cavalcade issued from the courtyard of Karpathy Castle. First of all came the ladies, so many slim, supple amazons, on prancing steeds, in the midst of a circle of noisy youths, who made their own horses dance and curvet by the side of their chosen dames; behind them came the wags of the party, on splendidly caparisoned rustic nags; and, last of all, the elderly ladies and gentlemen in their carriages. Squire John himself was in the saddle, and shewed all the world that he could hold his own with the smartest cavalier present, and everytime he looked at his wife he seemed to be twenty years younger, and his face beamed at the thought that she was such a pretty woman and he was her husband.

Three prizes had been fixed for the best foxhound: the first was a golden goblet with an inscription on it, the second was a silver hunting-horn, and the third a beautiful bear-skin; and no doubt the victorious foxhound would, personally, have been most grateful for the last. Most of the competing dogs, tied together in couples, were led along by the men-servants; but each of the favourite foxhounds was brought on to the ground in a cart, lest any of the horses should kick it. Naturally none of the company carried fire-arms; it is not usual to have them at a fox-hunt.