Chapter 81
"Or perhaps only myself.
"And shall I not speak?"
The poor girl's heart was full of reverie, but her eyes, her mouth, and her hand were busy with domestic work: she did not sit to gaze at the stars, to mourn over her instrument: she looked to her work, and they said "she is an enthusiastic housekeeper."
"Good day, Czipra."
She had even observed that Lorand was approaching her from behind, when she was whipping out cream in the corridor, and he greeted her very tenderly.
She expected him at least to stop as long as at other times to ask what she was cooking; and she would have answered with another question:
"Tell me now, what do you like?"
But he did not even stop: he had come upon her quite by chance, and as he could not avoid her, uttered a mere "good day:" then pa.s.sed by. He was looking for Topandy.
Topandy was waiting for him in his room and was busy reading a letter he had just opened.
"Well, my boy," he said, handing Lorand the letter, "That is the overture of the opera."
Lorand took the letter, which began: "I offer my respects to Mr. ----"
"This is a summons?"
"You may see from the greeting. The High Sheriff informs me that to-morrow morning he will be here to hold the legal inquiry: you must give orders to the servants for to-morrow."
"Sir, you still continue to take it as a joke."
"And a curious joke too. How well I shall sweep the streets! Ha, ha!"
"Ah!"
"In chains too. I always mocked my swine-herd, who for a year and a half wore out the county court's chains. Ever since he walks with a shambling step, as if one leg was always trying to avoid knocking the other with the chain. Now we can both laugh at each other."
"It would be good to engage a lawyer."
"It will certainly be better to send a sucking pig to the gaoler.
Against such p.r.i.c.ks, my boy, there is no kicking. This is like a cold bath: if a man enters slowly, bit by bit, his teeth
"I just came because I wish to speak to my uncle about a very serious matter."
"Well, out with it."
"I intend to marry Czipra."
Topandy looked long into the young fellow's face, and then said coldly,
"Why will you marry her?"
"Because she is an honest, good girl."
Topandy shook his head.
"That is not sufficient reason for marrying her."
"And is faithful to me. I owe her many debts of grat.i.tude. When I was ill, no sister could have nursed me more tenderly: if I was sad, her sorrow exceeded my own."
"That is not sufficient reason, either."
"And because I am raised above the prejudices of the world."
"Aha! magnanimity! Liberal ostentation? That is not sufficient reason either for taking Czipra to wife. The neighboring Count took his housekeeper to wife, just in order that people might speak of him: you have not even the merit of originality. Still not sufficient reason for marrying her."
"I shall take her to wife, because I love her...."
Topandy immediately softened: his usual strain of sarcastic scorn gave way to a gentler impulse.
"That's another thing. That is the only reason that can justify your marriage with her. How long have you loved her?"
"I cannot count the days. I was always pleased to see her: I always knew I loved her like a good sister. The other I wors.h.i.+pped as an angel: and as soon as she ceased to be an angel for me, as a mere woman I felt none of the former fire towards her: nothing remained, not even smoke nor ashes. But this girl, whose every foible I know, whose beauty was enhanced by no reverie, whom I only saw as she really is,--I love her now, as a faithful woman, who repays love in true coin: and I shall marry her--not out of grat.i.tude, but because she has filled my heart."
"If that is all you want, you will find that. What shall you do first?"
"I shall first write to my mother, and tell her I have found this rough diamond whom she must accept as her daughter: then I shall take Czipra to her, and she shall stay there until she is baptized and I take her away again."
"I am very thankful that you will take all the burden of this ceremony off my shoulders. What must be done by priests, do without my seeing it.
When shall you tell Czipra?"
"As soon as mother's answer comes back."
"And if your mother opposes the marriage?"
"I shall answer for that."
"Still it is possible. She may have other aims for you. What should you do then?"
"Then?" said Lorand reflectively: after a long pause he added: "Poor mother has had so much sorrow on my account."
"I know that."
"She has pardoned me all."
"She loves you better than her other son."
"And I love her better than I loved my father."
"That is a hard saying."
"But if she said 'You must give up forever either this girl or me,' I would answer her, and my heart would break, 'Mother, tear me from your heart, but I shall go with my wife.'"