The Slaves of the Padishah Part 34

The Moor presented Gregory to the doctor as another messenger.

"What is your name?" he asked, venomously regarding him from over his shoulder, and treating him to the most terrifying grimace he could think of.

"Gregory Biro," replied the Szekler, nodding his head twice as was his custom.

"Gregory, Gregory, what do you want here?"

"I want to see Feriz Beg."

"I am he; what have you brought?"

Gregory twisted his mug derisively at these words, and immediately reflected that the business was beginning badly, for the person before him did not in the least resemble Feriz Beg as described to him.

"I have brought a letter--from a pretty girl."

"Give it to me quickly, and be off."

Gregory twisted round his short jacket that he might get at his knapsack; but while he was fumbling inside it he was cute enough to extract the contents of the letter from its cover, and only handed the empty envelope to the doctor.

"'Tis well, Gregory, now you may go," said he gently, and without so much as opening the envelope he thrust it into the fire and held the blazing paper under a retort which he wanted to warm.

"Is that the way they read letters here?" asked Gregory, scratching his head, and he crept to the door; but there he stopped, and while half his body remained outside he thrust his arm up to the elbow into the long pocket of his _szure_,[17] drew from thence a diamond-clasp, and holding it between two fingers cried: "Look! I found this ring on the road not far from here, perchance Feriz Beg has lost it."

[Footnote 17: Sheepskin mantle.]

The doctor took the splendid jewel, and feeling convinced that only a n.o.bleman could have lost such a thing, he said he would show it to Feriz Beg immediately.

"Ho! then you are not Feriz Beg after all!" cried the humorist.

The doctor burst out laughing.

"Gregory! Gregory! don't jest with me. I am the cook, and if I like you I will let you stay to dinner."

Gregory pulled a wry face at the sight of the doctor's stews.

The doctor thereupon took in the diamond-clasp to Feriz Beg, after bidding the Moor, whom he left behind him, not to drink anything out of the gla.s.ses standing there, or it would make him ill.

Shortly afterwards the doctor returned in great astonishment, planted himself in front of Gregory with frowning eyebrows and roared at him in a voice which alarmed even the Szekler:

"Where did you get that jewel from?"

"Where did I get it from?" said Gregory, shrugging his shoulders; he was very pleased they wanted to frighten him.

"Come, speak!--quick!"

"Not now."

"Why not?" snapped the doctor firmly.

"Not to you, if you were to break me on the wheel."

"I'll bastinado you."

"Not if you impaled me, I say."

"Gregory! If you anger me, I'll make you drink three pints of physic."

"They are here, eh!" exclaimed Gregory, approaching the hearth, skipping among the flasks of the doctor, and seizing one of them, but he had the sense to choose alcohol, and dragging it from its case, sipped away at it till there was not a drop of it left.

"Leave a little in it, you dog!" yelled the doctor, s.n.a.t.c.hing the flask away from him, "don't drink it all!"

"I'll drink up the whole shop, but speak I won't unless I like."

The doctor perceived that he had met his match.

"Then will you speak before Feriz Beg?" he asked.

"I'll speak the whole truth then."

So there was nothing for it but to open Feriz Beg's door before Gregory and shove him inside.

Feriz Beg was sitting there on a couch, a feverish flush was burning upon his pale face; he still held the jewel in his hand, and his eyes were fastened upon it; just such a similar clasp he had given to Aranka Beldi when they were both children together.

"How did you come by this jewel?" inquired Feriz in a soft, mournful voice.

"She to whom you gave it gave it to me that you might believe she sent me to you."

At these words Feriz Beg arose with flashing eyes.

"She sent you to me! She! So she remembers me! She thinks of me sometimes, then."

"She sent you a letter through me."

Feriz Beg stretched out a tremulous hand.

"Where is the letter?"

"I flung it into the fire," interjected the doctor.

"How dared you do that?" exclaimed Feriz angrily.

But the doctor was not afraid.

"I am your doctor, and every letter injures your health."

"Panajot! you are an impertinent fellow!" thundered Feriz, with a face of inflamed purple; and he smote the table such a blow with his fist that all the medicine bottles tumbled off it.

"Don't be angry, sir!" said Gregory, twisting his moustache at both ends, while Panajot coolly swept together the fragments of the broken bottles and boxes on the floor; "the worthy man did not burn the letter but only the envelope. I had gumption enough not to entrust the inside of it to him."