Chapter 71
Melanie, fortunately, did not hear this, for Lorand just then entertained her with a wonderful story: how that, curiously enough, when the young lady had been at Topandy's, the hyacinths had been covered with lovely cl.u.s.ters of fairy bells, and how, one week later, their place had been taken by ugly cl.u.s.ters of berries. How could flowers change so suddenly?
"Very well," said Madame Balnokhazy, "let us admit that when Gyali and aronffy were students together, the one played the traitor on the other.
What happened then?"
"I only learned last night what really happened. That evening I was on a visit to Lorand, and found Gyali there. They appeared to be joking. They playfully disputed as to who, at the farewell dance, was to be the partner of that very honorable lady, who may often be seen in your company. The two students disputed in my presence as to who was to dance with the 'aunt.'"
"Of course, as a piece of unusual good fortune."
"Naturally. As neither wished to give the other preference, they finally decided to entrust the verdict to lot; on the table was a small piece of paper, the only writing material to be found in Lorand's room after a careful rummaging, as all the rest had just been burned. This piece of lilac-colored paper was torn in two, and both wrote one name: these two pieces they put in a hat and called upon me to draw out one. I did so and read out Lorand's name."
"Do you intend to relate how your brother enjoyed himself at that dance?"
Melanie had not heard anything.
"I have no intention of saying a single word more about that day--and I shall at once leap over ten years. But I must hasten to explain that the drawing had nothing to do with dancing with the 'aunt' but was the lottery of an 'American duel' caused by a conflict between Gyali and Lorand."
Desiderius did not remark how the coppery spots on Sarvolgyi's face swelled at the words "American duel," and then how they lost their color again.
"One moment, my dear boy," interrupted Madame Balnokhazy. "Before you continue: allow me to ask one question: is it customary to speak in society of duels that have not yet taken place?"
"Certainly, if one of the princ.i.p.als has by his cowardly conduct made the duel impossible."
"Cowardly conduct?" said Madame Balnokhazy, darting a piercing side glance at Lorand. "That applies to you."
But Lorand was just relating to Melanie how the day-before-yesterday, when the beautiful moonlight shone upon the piano, which had remained open as the young lady had left it, soft fairy voices began suddenly to rise from it. Though that was surely no spirit playing on the keys, but Czipra's tame white weasel that, hunting night moths, ran along them.
"Yes," said Desiderius in answer to the lady. "One of the princ.i.p.als who accepted the condition gave evidence of such conduct on that occasion as must shut him out from all honorable company. Gyali wrote in forged writing on that ticket the name of Lorand instead of his own."
Madame Balnokhazy incredulously pursed her lips.
"How can you prove that?"
"I did not cast into the fire, as Gyali bade me, the two tickets, but in their stead the dance programme I had brought with me, the two tickets I put away and have kept until to-day, suspecting that perhaps there might be some rather important reason for this calculating slyness."
"Pardon me; but a very serious charge is being raised against an absent person, who cannot defend himself, and to defend whom is therefore the duty of the next and nearest person, even at the price of great indulgence. Have you any proof, any authentic evidence, that either one of the tickets you have kept is forged?"
Madame Balnokhazy had gone to great extremes in doubting the faithfulness and truth-telling of a man,--but rather too far. She had to deal with a barrister.
"The similarity admits
Madame's bosom heaved with anger. This youth of twenty-three had annihilated her just as calmly, as he would have burnt that piece of paper of which they were speaking.
Desiderius quietly produced his pocket-book and rummaged for the fatal slips of paper.
"Never mind. I believe it," panted Madame Balnokhazy, whose face in that moment was like a furious Medusa head. "I believe what you say. I have no doubts about it:" therewith she rose from her seat and turned to the window.
Desiderius too rose from his chair, seeing the sitting was interrupted, but could not resist the temptation of pouring out the overflowing bitterness of his heart before somebody; and, as Madame was displeased and Melanie was chatting with Lorand of trifles, he was obliged to address his words directly to his only hearer, to Sarvolgyi, who remained still sitting, like one enchanted, while his gaze rested ever upon Desiderius' face. This face, drunken with rage and terror, could not tear itself from the object of its fears.
"And this fellow has allowed his dearest friend to go through life for ten years haunted with the thought of death, has allowed him to hide himself in strangers' houses, avoiding his mother's embraces. It did not occur to him once to say 'Live on; don't persecute yourself; we were children, we have played together. I merely played a joke on you.'..."
Sarvolgyi turned livid with a deathly pallor.
"Sir, you are a Christian, who believes in G.o.d, and in those who are saints: tell me, is there any torture of h.e.l.l that could be punishment enough for so ruining a youth?"
Sarvolgyi tremblingly strove to raise himself on his quivering hand. He thought his last hour had come.
"There is none!" answered Desiderius to himself. "This fellow kept his hatred till the last day, and when the final anniversary came, he actually sought out his victim to remind him of his awful obligation.
Oh, sir, perhaps you do not know what a terrible fatality there is in this respect in our family? So died grandfather, so it was that our dearly loved father left us; so good, so n.o.ble-hearted, but who in a bitter moment, amidst the happiness of his family turned his hand against his own life. At night we stealthily took him out to burial.
Without prayer, without blessing, we put him down into the crypt, where he filled the seventh place; and that night my grandmother, raving, cursed him who should occupy the eighth place in the row of blood-victims."
Sarvolgyi's face became convulsed like that of a galvanized corpse.
Desiderius thought deep sympathy had so affected the righteous man and continued all the more pa.s.sionately:
"That fellow, who knew it well, and who was acquainted with our family's unfortunate ill-luck, in cold blood led his friend to the eighth coffin, to the cursed coffin--with the words 'Lie down there in it!'"
Sarvolgyi's lips trembled as if he would cry "pity: say nothing more!"
"He went with him down to the gate of death, opened the dark door before him, and asked him banteringly 'is the pistol loaded?' and when Lorand took his place amid the revellers: bade him fulfil his obligation--the perjured hound called him to his obligation!"
Sarvolgyi, all pale, rose at this awful scene:--for all the world as if Lorincz aronffy himself had come to relate the history of his own death to his murderer.
"Then I seized Lorand's arm with my one hand, and with the other held before the wretch's eyes the evidence of his cursed falseness. His evil conscience bade him fly. I reached him, seized his throat...."
Sarvolgyi in abject terror sank back in his chair, while Madame Balnokhazy, rus.h.i.+ng from the window, pa.s.sionately cried "and killed him?"
Desiderius, gazing haughtily at her, answered calmly: "No, I merely cast him out from the society of honorable men."
To Lorand it was a savage pleasure to look at those three faces, as Desiderius spoke. The dumb pa.s.sion which inflamed Madame Balnokhazy's face, the convulsive terror on the features of the fatal adversary, strove with each other to fill his heart with a great delight.
And Melanie? What had she felt during this narration, which made such an ugly figure of the man to whom fate allotted her?
Lorand's eyes were intent upon her face too.
The young girl was not so transfixed by the subject of the tale as by the speaker. Desiderius in the heat of pa.s.sion, was twice as handsome as he was otherwise. His every feature was lighted with n.o.ble pa.s.sion. Who knows--perhaps the beautiful girl was thinking it would be no very pleasant future to be the bride of Gyali after such a scandal! Perhaps there returned to her memory some fragments of those fair days at Pressburg, when she and Desiderius had sighed so often side by side.
That boy had been very much in love with his beautiful cousin. He was more handsome and more spirited than his brother. Perhaps her thoughts were such. Who knows?
At any rate, it is certain that when Desiderius answered Madame's question with such calm contempt--"I cast him out, I did not kill him,"--on Melanie's face could be remarked a certain radiance, though not caused by delight that her fiance's life had been spared.
Lorand remarked it, and hastened to spoil the smile.
"Certainly you would have killed him, Desi, had not your good angel, your dear f.a.n.n.y, luckily for you, intervened, and grasped your arm, saying 'this hand is mine. You must not defile it.'"
The smile disappeared from Melanie's face.
"And now," said Desiderius, addressing his remarks directly to Sarvolgyi; "be my judge, sir. What had a man, who with such sly deception, with such cold mercilessness, desired to kill, to destroy, to induce a heart in which the same blood flows as in mine--to commit a crime against the living G.o.d, what, I ask, had such a man deserved from me? Have I not a right to drive that man from every place, where he dares to appear in the light of the sun, until I compel him to walk abroad at night when men do not see him, among strangers who do not know him;--to destroy him morally with just as little mercy as he displayed towards Lorand?--Would that be a crime?"
"Great Heavens! Something has happened to Mr. Sarvolgyi," cried Madame Balnokhazy suddenly.