St. Peter's Umbrella - novelonlinefull.com
You’re read light novel St. Peter's Umbrella Part 12 online at NovelOnlineFull.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit NovelOnlineFull.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
"H'm!" was the answer, and the three hairs on the mason's nose began to move, as though a breath of air had pa.s.sed through them.
"I know of course that they cut the jay's tongue with a knife, but as you are not a bird, Prepelicza ..."
"No, no," stammered the man hastily.
"Well, instead of a knife I take these two bank-notes to cut your tongue with."
And with that he took two hundred-florin bank-notes out of his pocket-book.
The eyes of the mason fixed themselves greedily upon the bank-notes, upon the two figures printed on them, one holding a sheaf of wheat, the other a book; his eyes nearly dropped out of his head he stared so hard, and then he said:
"The caldron was heavy, very heavy indeed."
That was all he could get out, while he continued gazing at the two cherubs on the paper notes. He had six of his own at home, but they were not as pretty as these.
"Well, my good man," said Gregorics surprised, "still silent?"
"It would be like a stone on my heart if I were to speak," sighed the mason--"a very big stone. I don't think I could bear it."
"Don't talk such nonsense! A stone, indeed! Why, you have had to do with nothing else all your life, you need not cry about having one on your heart! You can't expect me to give you two hundred florins, and then give you a hot roll to carry in your heart. Don't be a fool, man."
Prepelicza smiled at this, but he put his big red hands behind his back, a sign that he did not intend to touch the money.
"Perhaps you find it too little?"
Not a word did he answer, only pushed his hair up in front, till he looked like a sick c.o.c.katoo; then, after a few moments, raised his gla.s.s to his lips, and drained it to the dregs, and then put it back on the table so brusquely that it broke.
"It is disgraceful!" he burst out; "a poor man's honor is only worth two hundred florins, though G.o.d created us all equal, and He gave me my honor as well as to the bishop or to Baron Radvanszky. And yet you tax mine at two hundred florins. It's a shame!"
Upon that Gaspar decided to play his trump.
"Very well, Prepelicza, you needn't be so cross. If your honor is so dear, I'll look for cheaper."
And with that he put back the two bank-notes in his pocket.
"I'll look up your companion, the other mason."
Then he called the head waiter, in order to pay for the wine. Prepelicza smiled.
"Well, well, can't a poor man give his opinion? Of course you can look up the other man, and he won't be as honest as I, probably. But ...
well, put another fifty to it, and I'll tell you all."
"Very well. It's a bargain!"
And the mason began to relate the events of that memorable night, and how they had carried the caldron through the courtyard and garden to a small house.
"To the 'Lebanon'!" exclaimed Gaspar excitedly. "To that boy's house!"
And the mason went on to tell how Gregorics had stood by while they had walled in the caldron, and watched every movement, Gaspar throwing in a question now and then.
"Was it heavy?"
"Very heavy."
"Did no one see you as you pa.s.sed through the courtyard?"
"No one; every one had gone to bed."
Gaspar was quite excited, and seemed to enjoy every word he heard; his eyes shone, his thoughts were occupied with the future, in which he imagined himself a rich man, the owner of untold wealth. He might even buy a baronetcy! Baron Gaspar Gregorics! How well it sounded! And Minka would be a little baroness. That fool of a Pal had not known how to make proper use of his wealth, so it must have increased immensely, he had been so economical!
"And what did my brother pay you for your work?"
"He gave us each fifty florins."
"That was quite right of him."
A weight had fallen from his heart at these words, for he had begun to fear Gregorics had given them some thousands to buy their silence, and that would have been a great pity, as it would have diminished the sum he hoped to possess before long. For he had decided to buy "Lebanon,"
with its caldron and its orchard. He would go to-morrow to that boy's guardian and make an offer for it. And he rejoiced inwardly at the trick he was playing his brother and sister.
He returned home as fast as horses could take him, and did not even stop at his own house, but went straight on to Sztolarik's and informed him he would like to buy "Lebanon."
This was the name they had given to the orchard and house old Gregorics had bought of the clergyman's widow. He had tried to grow cedars there at first, but the soil of Besztercebanya was not suitable for these trees, and the sarcastic inhabitants of the small town christened the orchard "Lebanon."
Mr. Sztolarik showed no surprise at the offer.
"So you want to buy 'Lebanon'?" he said. "It is a good orchard, and produces the finest fruit imaginable. This year a well-known hotel-keeper bought all the fruit, and paid an enormous price for it.
But what made you think of buying 'Lebanon'?"
"I should like to build a house there, a larger house than the present one."
"H'm! There is always a good deal of bother attached to a purchase of that kind," said Sztolarik coldly; "the present owner is a minor, and the Court of Chancery must give permission for the sale to take place. I would rather leave things as they are. When the boy is of age he may do what he likes, but if I sell it now he may be sorry for it later on. No, no, Mr. Gregorics, I can't agree to it. After all the house and orchard are a _pretium affectionis_ for the boy; he spent his childhood there."
"But if I offer a good sum for it," broke in Gaspar, nervously.
Sztolarik began to feel curious.
"What do you consider a good sum? What do you think of offering for it?"
"Why, I would give--" and here he was overcome by a fit of coughing, which made him turn as red as a peony--"I would give 15,000 florins."
Well, that was a brilliant offer, for Pal Gregorics had bought it of the clergyman's widow for 5000 florins. It was only a small bit of ground, and a good way from the market, which decreased its value exceedingly.
"Utc.u.mque," said Sztolarik, "your offer is a good one. But, but ...
well, I'll tell you what, Mr. Gregorics, I'll consider your offer a bit, and I must write to the boy about it too, and also speak to his mother."
"But I want to settle it as soon as possible."
"I'll write about it to-day."