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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34911-8.txt b/34911-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..078f10a --- /dev/null +++ b/34911-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4363 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Yellow Rose, by Mór Jókai, Translated by +Beatrice Danford + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Yellow Rose + + +Author: Mór Jókai + + + +Release Date: January 10, 2011 [eBook #34911] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW ROSE*** + + +E-text prepared by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 34911-h.htm or 34911-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/34911/34911-h/34911-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/34911/34911-h.zip) + + + + + +THE YELLOW ROSE + + +[Illustration: Budapest 1896 17 III Dr. Jókai Mór] + + +THE YELLOW ROSE + +A Novel + +by + +MAURUS JÓKAI + +Author of "Black Diamonds," "The Green Book," +"Eyes like the Sea," "Pretty Michal," +"Doctor Dumany's Wife," etc. + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + +London +Jarrold & Sons, 10 & 11, Warwick Lane, E.C. + +[All Rights Reserved] + +Translated by BEATRICE DANFORD +from the original Hungarian. + +Copyright:-- +London: Jarrold & Sons. + + + + +CONTENTS. + PAGE + CHAPTER I. 7 + CHAPTER II. 13 + CHAPTER III. 44 + CHAPTER IV. 77 + CHAPTER V. 94 + CHAPTER VI. 97 + CHAPTER VII. 107 + CHAPTER VIII. 119 + CHAPTER IX. 129 + CHAPTER X. 147 + CHAPTER XI. 165 + CHAPTER XII. 181 + + + +THE YELLOW ROSE + + +CHAPTER I. + + +This happened when no train crossed the Hortobágy, when throughout the +Alföld there was not a railway, and the water of the Hortobágy had not +been regulated. The two-wheeled mill clattered gaily in the little +river, and the otter lived happily among the reeds. + +At the first streak of dawn, a horseman came riding across the flat Zám +puszta, which lies on the far side of the Hortobágy River (taking +Debreczin as the centre of the world). Whence did he come? Whither was +he going? Impossible to guess. The puszta has no pathway, grass grows +over hoof-print and cart track. Up to the endless horizon there is +nothing but grass, not a tree, a well pole, or a hut to break the +majestic green plain. The horse went its way instinctively. Its rider +dozing, nodded in the saddle, first on one side, then the other, but +never let slip his foot from the stirrup. + +He was evidently a cowherd, for his shirt sleeves were tight at the +wrists--wide sleeves would be in the way among horned beasts. His +waistcoat was blue, his jacket, with its rows of buttons, black, and so +was his cloak, worked in silken flowers, and hanging loosely strapped +over his shoulder. The slackly gathered reins were held in the left +hand, while from the right wrist dangled a thick stock whip. A long +loaded cudgel was fastened to the horn of the saddle in front. In the +wide upturned brim of his hat he wore a single yellow rose. Once or +twice the horse tossed its head, and shaking the fringed saddle cloth, +woke the rider for an instant. His first movement was to his cap, to +feel whether the rose was there, or if perchance it had dropped out. +Then removing the cap, he smelt the flower with keen enjoyment (although +it had no rose's scent), and replacing it well to one side, threw back +his head as if he hoped, in that way, to catch sight of the rose. +Presently (and very probably to keep himself awake) he began humming his +favourite song: + + "If only the inn were not so near, + If only I did not find such cheer + In golden quart and copper gill, + I would not linger, my love, until + It ever should grow so late." + +But soon his head fell forward again, and he went on nodding, till all +at once, with a frightened start, he saw that the yellow rose was gone! + +Turning his horse he commenced searching for the flower amid that sea of +grass, and the yellow blossoms of cinquefoil, and stitchwort, and +water-lilies. At last he found it, stuck it in his hat, and continued +his song: + + "An apple-tree stands in my garden small, + The blossoms it bears they hide it all. + Oh there where the full carnation blows, + And a maiden's heart with a true love glows + Is the place where I would be." + +And then he went to sleep again, lost the rose, and once more turned to +look for it. When found this time, nestling among a cluster of pink +thistle-heads, he nearly kicked the plant to pieces. Because--because it +had dared to kiss his rose! Then he sprang back to the saddle. Now had +this cowboy been superstitious he would not have decorated his hat for +the third time with the yellow rose. Had he understood bird language, he +would have known what the hundreds of little larks were twittering as +they rose up out of sight, to greet the dawn. "Wear not--wear not your +yellow rose!" But this Hortobágy peasant was hard-headed; he knew +neither fear nor superstition. + +He had wasted a good deal of time, however, in seeking this rose--though +possibly more in winning it--for at the watering-hour he should have +reached the Zám herd. By this time the overseer must be cursing him +roundly. Well, let him curse! When one has a yellow rose in one's cap +one is not afraid of an overseer! + +The sudden neighing of his horse roused him. A horseman was approaching, +whose steed, a bay with a white star, was evidently an old friend of its +own. The rider was a "csikós," or horseherd, as could be seen by his +wide flying sleeves, white cloak, tulip embroidered, the lasso thrown +around his shoulders, and best of all, by the way he had saddled his +bay--without a girth. The two herdsmen recognised one another, as well +as their horses, and quickening their trot drew close together. Both +men, though distinctly different, were of the true Hungarian type, such +as were the first Hungarians who wandered in from Asia. The cowherd was +broad-shouldered, thickset, and bony, his face roundish and his cheeks +red, while there was something of impudence in the chin, mouth, +eyebrows, and little waxed moustache. His chestnut hair was cropped +short, and his eyes hazel, though at first sight seeming almost green. + +The other, the csikós, was strong and square-chested, yet withal +slightly built. He had an oval face, burnt to a golden bronze, with +perfectly regular clear-cut features, eyes dark and shining, and a black +moustache that turned up of itself. Over his shoulders his jet black +hair fell in loose wavy ringlets. + +The two horses snorted in friendly fashion, and the csikós was the first +to hail his friend. + +"Good day, comrade! You are up early. But maybe you have not slept at +all?" + +"Thanks. That's true. There was someone to send me asleep and to wake me +up!" + +"And where are you from now?" + +"Only from the Mata puszta. I was at the vet's." + +"At the vet's? Better kill your horse at once." + +"Why?" + +"Than let the doctor and his old nag overtake it. He went by in his gig +half an hour ago, jogging along towards the Mata herd." + +"Well, well, comrade! The shepherd's white donkey has often beaten your +little bay mare." + +"Hm'm. What a pretty yellow rose you have got in your cap, comrade!" + +"Who wins one can wear one." + +"And may he never repent it!" + +The csikós held up his fist with a threatening gesture, till the wide +sleeve slipping back disclosed a muscular sunburnt arm. + +Then both riders putting spurs to their horses went their several ways. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +The cowboy trotted towards the herd, and soon the hills of Zám, the +little acacia wood, and the three tall well poles began to peep above +the horizon. But it is a good ride there! Presently he took the +tell-tale rose from his cap, folded it in his scarlet handkerchief, and +pushed it up the knotted sleeve of his coat. + +The horse-herd meanwhile spurred his horse in the opposite direction, +where a low lying line of bluish mist marked the course of the Hortobágy +river. He was on his way to the rose-bush where the yellow roses grew. + +For on the whole Hortobágy there was but one yellow rose, and that +bloomed in the innkeeper's garden. + +Some foreigner had brought it from Belgium, they said; and its +wonderful yellow flowers blossomed the whole summer through, from +Whitsuntide to Advent, when there were still buds on the branches; +yellow as pure gold they were, though their scent was more like muscatel +wine than roses. Many a man had felt that scent rise to his head! And +the girl who used to gather these roses, though not for herself, they +called "The Yellow Rose" also. + +It was quite a mystery where the old innkeeper had picked up this +maiden, for wife he had none. Some stranger had evidently forgotten her +there, and the old man had kept her till she grew into a delicate, +slender flower. Her cheeks were not rosy like those of other girls, but +a clear, creamy colour, not the tint of sickness, for the life glowed +beneath, and, when she smiled, seemed to dazzle and shine like a fire +within. Her mouth, with its turned-up corners, was made for laughter, +and suited the darkness of her eyes, eyes so dark that none could tell +whether they were black or blue, because if once a man looked into them +he forgot all else in the world. Her hair was black, twisted into a +plait, with yellow ribbon. Other girls damp their hair with quince juice +to make it curly, but hers waved and curled of itself. + +And the songs she knew! How sweetly she could sing when she liked! If +happy she sang, if sad she sang, for there is a song for everything, +and, without singing, a peasant maiden cannot live. Nothing makes the +work so easy, the time pass so quickly, and the way so short. Early in +the morning, when the sky was pink at sunrise, she might be heard +singing as she weeded in the garden. + +The old innkeeper did not concern himself with business, but had given +the whole management of the inn into the girl's hands. She served out +the wine, cooked, did the accounts. He meanwhile looked after his +beehives, and was busy now, for the bees were swarming. + +Suddenly a horse's hoofs resounded from the yard, the dogs barked in the +joyous tone with which they were wont to greet an old friend, and the +old man called out: + +"Klári! go in! Don't you hear the dogs barking; a customer must be here. +See to him!" + +The girl dropped her striped gown, tucked up for weeding, put on her +buckled shoes, washed her hands from the watering can, and dried them +with her apron, which she then threw aside, for, under it, she wore +another very wide and clean, and with the household keys dangling from +her waistband. She untied her gay-coloured kerchief, and smoothed her +hair with her moistened palms. Then she broke off a rose from the +rose-bush, and stuck it in her hair at one side. + +"Picking a rose again!" grumbled the old man. "Maybe only for a +gendarme!" + +"Why only? Why mayn't a gendarme wear a rose in his shako as well as +another fellow? Perhaps you don't think him good enough? That depends on +the gendarme." + +But after all it was no gendarme whom the girl found sitting at one end +of the long table, but the smartest csikós on the whole puszta--Sándor +Decsi. + +"Sándor!" screamed the girl when she saw him, and clapping her hands, +"Sándor! you have come back, my darling." + +He was standing there, drumming on the table with the empty glasses, and +only looked up to call out in a most sullen fashion, "Bring wine." + +"Sándor!" cried the girl. + +But the lad only growled, "I told you to bring wine," and let his head +fall back on his hands. + +"That is a nice 'good morning' after such a long absence!" exclaimed the +girl, at which the herdsman came somewhat to his senses, for he knew how +to be polite. Removing his cap and laying it on the table, "Good +morning, miss," he said. + +"Whew!" The girl pointed the rosy tip of her tongue at him, and +shrugging her shoulders angrily, stamped off to the bar, shaking her +shoes as she went. When she had brought the wine, however, she asked in +an unaltered voice: + +"Why do you call me 'miss'?" + +"Because . . . . you are 'miss.'" + +"I always was, but you never used to say so." + +"That was another time, it was different then." + +"Well, here is the wine anyway. Do you want anything else?" + +"Thank you," said the man, "not now. Later perhaps." + +The girl responded by a clicking noise with her tongue, and then sat +down near him, at the end of the long bench. + +The csikós raised the bottle to his lips, drained it dry, and flung it +on the floor, where it smashed into a thousand fragments. + +"Why have you broken the bottle?" she asked softly. + +"That no one else may drink out of it." Next he tossed three ten kreuzer +notes on the table--"dog tongues" the country people call them--two +being for the red wine, one for the bottle. The girl meanwhile had +seized a broom, and was diligently sweeping up the broken glass. Then, +knowing the rule, she dived behind the wooden lattice railing off the +bar, and brought out a fresh bottle. How she longed to look in his eyes! +But he, evidently guessing it, pulled his hat lower over his face than +before. Finally, she did manage to get possession of his cap, and then +tried to transfer the yellow rose in her hair to the silk ribbon +decorating its brim. But the herdsman saw, and snatched it out of her +hands. + +"Keep your roses for some worthier person," he said shortly. + +"Sándor," began the girl at last, "do you wish to make me cry?" + +"That would be false, as your words are false. Did not Ferko Lacza leave +you this morning with one of your roses in his cap?" + +She did not turn red at this, only so much the paler. + +"God knows I----" + +But a hand laid across her mouth stopped all further speech. + +"Do not take God's name in vain!" cried the herdsman; "and how did those +golden ear-rings get into your ears, I wonder?" + +"You donkey!" Klári laughed outright. "You gave them to me yourself, +only I had them gilded by the jeweller in Újváros." + +Then the csikós caught hold of both her hands, and spoke his mind slowly +and earnestly. "Dearest Klári," he said, "I won't call you 'miss' any +more--I beg you from the bottom of my heart not to lie to me. Nothing is +so detestable as lying. They say, 'lying dog,' though dogs never lie; +for a dog has a different bark when he smells a thief round the farm, or +scents danger, or hears his master coming, and his bark never misleads. +A dog is honest enough, it is men who know how to lie, and theirs is the +true yelping. As for me, it never came into my mind to lie, my tongue is +not fashioned that way. Lying ill-suits a moustache, and it's a bad +business when bearded lips speak lying words like a coward who fears a +beating. Now, see, when the conscription was here last autumn, they +summoned us all from the puszta. But the townspeople wanted to keep us, +for, without herdsmen the cattle and horses would fare badly. So, first +they took care to cross the palms of the committee with silver, and then +the doctors whispered to us what sort of bodily defect we could feign, +so as to be discharged as unfit. Ferko Lacza took to the trick! He swore +he was as deaf as a door-post, could not hear a trumpet even; he, who +has such good ears that if a beast lows in the blackest midnight, he can +tell whether it is a stray one wandered in among the herd or a cow +calling her lost calf. My eyes nearly fell out of my head! Eh, he knew +how to lie, the scoundrel! When my turn came to be inspected they made +out that my heart beat irregularly. 'Well, if it beats irregularly,' +said I, 'it is not my heart that's in fault, but the Yellow Rose yonder, +at the Hortobágy inn.' The gentlemen all nudged me to trust to the +doctor, who said I had enlargement of the heart! 'Why, it's just big +enough to hold one little bit of a girl, and nothing else. There is +nothing in the world the matter with me!' So they took me for a soldier, +but respected me. They never even cut my hair, but sent me to be +'soldier csikós' to the military stud at Mezöhegyes. And before half a +year was over the Town Council put down the thousand florins ransom to +buy me off, and send me back to the horses again. But I will work out +those thousand florins with my two hands, though not with a lying +tongue--that is another matter!" + +The girl attempted to get her hands free, and to turn off the affair as +a joke. + +"My word, Sándor, did you learn to preach when you were eating the +Emperor's bread? Really, you're so eloquent you ought to go as +probationer every Sunday to Balmaz-Újváros!" + +"Now, now, do not jest," said the man. "I know what is in your little +head. You are thinking that maids are but a feeble folk, and have no +other weapon but lying, otherwise they would be overmatched. The swift +feet for the hare, the wings for the bird, and for the girl--her lying +lips! But, sweetheart, I am a man who has never hurt the weaker. The +hare can bide in the cover, and the bird on her nest for me, I would +never disturb them. Neither would I harm the girl who speaks the truth +with as much as a hard word or look. But if you lie to me, why, then I +must judge you as hardly as if those pretty cheeks of yours were smeared +with Vienna rouge! Look at the rose in your hand, it has hardly opened, +but if I blow on it with my hot breath, one after another all the petals +will unfold. Be such a rose, then, my darling, and open your heart and +your soul to me. I will not be angry whatever you confess, and I will +forgive you, even if it breaks my heart." + +"And then what will you give me?" + +"As much of it as you have left me," said the man. + +The girl, knowing the herdsmen's custom of eating bacon, paprika (the +red pepper), and white bread with their morning wine, rose, and set this +before him, and was glad to see it was not scorned. Indeed, the csikós, +drawing out his long knife with its inlaid handle from his top boot, cut +off a slice of bread and bacon, and fell to work heartily. + +Meanwhile, through the open door appeared the watch-dog, wagging his +tail, and going to the herdsman, he rubbed his nose against his legs, +and then lay down near him, yawning with great affability. + +"Even Bodri knows you," said the girl. + +"Yes, dogs are faithful. It is only girls who forget." + +"Sándor, Sándor," she cried. "What a pity it was you could not tell that +one little lie when it was so needful! Then they would not have taken +you as a soldier to Mezöhegyes. It is not wise to leave a girl to +herself. It is not wise to let a lilac-bush in blossom overhang the +paling, because then every passer-by who chooses can break off a piece!" + +At these words the very morsel of bread fell from the herdsman's mouth, +and he cast it to the dog. + +"Is this truth that you are saying?" + +"Truth? Don't you know the song about 'When the girl's out in the storm, +under his cloak the boy keeps her warm'?" + +"Yes, and how it goes on too. 'The maid keeps near to the lad in the +showers, his cloak being worked with silken flowers.' Get away, dog! +Even you only wag your tail when there is a question of bacon!" + +Just then the horse in the yard outside began to neigh, and the girl +went out, reappearing in a few minutes. + +"Where have you been?" asked the man. + +"Tying up your horse in the stable." + +"Who bid you tie him up?" + +"I always did so till now." + +"Now it is different; I am off directly!" + +"What? You won't take a bite? Isn't bread and bacon good enough? Maybe +you got better from the Emperor? But stop, I can bring you something +nicer." + +She went to the cupboard in the wall and brought out a plate of fried +fowl, or "Back Hendli"--for fowl fried in bread-crumbs, and then left +cold, was a favourite tit-bit of the herdsman's. + +"Whose remains are these?" he demanded suspiciously. + +"Well, first think a little! All sorts of people come to an inn, and +anyone who pays can have 'Back Hendli.'" + +"Then you had grand folks here last night?" + +"Certainly," said the girl. "Two gentlemen from Vienna, and two from +Debreczin. They stayed up till two o'clock and then went on. If you +don't believe me, I can show you their names in the guest book." + +"Oh! I believe you." + +The great tabby Tom, who had been washing his face by the stove, rose at +this moment, stretched himself, arched his back, jumped down, and going +to the csikós, measured his claws on his boots, showing how high the +snow would lie next winter. + +Then he sprang into his friend's arms, rubbing and pushing his head +against his hand, and slowly licking every one of the five fingers. At +last he lay down and began purring. + +"Look how the cat is trying to coax you," said Klári. + +"I am not going to ask him whose arms he purred in yesterday. How much +do I pay for the 'Back Hendli'?" + +"_You!_ Nothing, of course, somebody else did that. But where are you +off to in such a terrible hurry?" + +"To the vet, on the Mata puszta--I am taking him a letter." + +"You won't find him at home, for he passed here at three this morning, +looking for those gentlemen. When he heard they had gone, he went +jogging on in his gig to the Zám puszta. One gentleman was the steward +of a Moravian Count, who wants to buy some of our cattle to breed on his +estate; the other German was an artist. He drew me in his little book, +and the cowherd also." + +"So the cowherd was here also?" + +"Of course he was here, since he was sent to show the gentlemen across +the puszta to the Zám Herd." + +"Only it seems funny to me," remarked the csikós, "that the cowboy left +an hour later than the gentlemen he was meant to guide." + +"Dear me! You can cross-examine like the district judge! Well, he came +to bid me good-bye. He is going far away, and we will never see him any +more." + +As if to prove the truth of her words, a real shining tear dropped from +the girl's eyes, though she tried her best to hide it. Not that the +csikós minded that, for it was an honest tear, at any rate, and he +preferred to turn his head aside when she dried her eyes with her apron. +Then he stuck his short clay pipe in his mouth. A pipe in the mouth +signifies no kisses. + +"And what takes the cowboy so far away?" he inquired. + +"He is going to Moravia as head herdsman to the cattle which they are +buying at Zám. He is to get a stone house, so much corn, and six hundred +florins as wages. He'll be quite the gentleman! And they will respect +him there, because only a Hungarian herdsman can manage a Hungarian +herd." + +"And you? Aren't you going to Moravia as head herdsman's wife?" + +"You rascal!" said the girl. "You know I'm not. You know, quite well, I +love no one but you. I might if I weren't chained fast to you and to +this puszta. Why, I am your slave." + +"Not exactly," said the man. "You know it is not like that; but whoever +you have bewitched with those eyes of yours must come back from the ends +of the earth to you. You give him a charm to drink that compels him to +think of you. Or you sew one of your hairs in his shirt sleeve, that you +may draw him back, even from beyond the stars. It's just the same with +me! Since I looked into your eyes I have been made a fool of." + +"And have I not been fool enough?" she asked. "Haven't I often wondered +what would become of me! Whom did I ask to melt lead with me on +Christmas Eve? Whose kerchief did I wear, though he never said it was a +betrothal gift? Did I ever go spying after you when you danced with +other girls and giddy young wives at Újváros Fair?" + +"If only you had not put the rose in his cap!" + +"Well, give me yours, and here is a match to it, which is easily stuck +in!" + +"No," said the lad. "I want _that_ rose which you gave to the cowherd, +and I will never rest till I have it in my hands." + +At that the girl clasped her hands imploringly. + +"Sándor! Sándor! Don't talk like that. You two must not fight about +me--_about a yellow rose_!" + +"It must be. Either he kills me, or I him, but one of us must fall." + +"And that is what _you_ call telling the truth!" cried the girl. "You +who have just promised not to be angry with me any more?" + +"With you, yes. A girl can't help forgetting, but a man should bear in +mind." + +"God knows, I never forgot you." + +"Perhaps not; like in the song:-- + + "'Whome'er within my arms I pressed, + Yet in my heart I loved thee best.' + +"No, dearest, I am not a hard man, and I did not come to quarrel with +you, but only to show you that I am alive, and not dead, though I know +how happy you would be if I were." + +"Sándor! Then you want me to go and buy matches?" + +"Matches, is it?" said the man. "That's the way with you girls. If you +fall into the ditch, then it's three boxes of matches from the Jew, a +cup of hot coffee, and it is all over. But surely the wiser plan would +be to avoid the ditches altogether!" + +"Don't speak about it. Do you remember," the girl asked, "how, when +first we met, we were playing that game, 'I fell into the well. Who +pulled you out? Sándor Decsi!' And you did pull me out!" + +"But if I had thought it was for someone else . . . !" + +"Heigho!" sighed the herdsman, "that was long ago. Before ever the +Dorozsma Mill was sung about." + +"Is that something new?" The girl stooped over the bench closer to the +lad. "Sing it first, and then I will learn it." + +So Sándor Decsi set his back against the wall, put one hand to his cap +and the other on the table and commenced the tune, the sad air suiting +the sadness of its words:-- + + "Dorozsma's mill, Dorozsma's mill, + The wind has dropped, 'tis standing still. + Ah! faithless thou hast flown, my dove! + Another claims thy life, thy love, + This is the reason, if you will, + Why turns no more Dorozsma's mill." + +Such a song it was as is born on the plains and blown hither and thither +like the thistledown scattered by the wind. The girl tried the air after +him, and where she failed the csikós helped her, and so it went on till +they both knew it, and sang it together perfectly. And then, at the +finish, they kissed each other. This was the end of the song. + +But hardly had Klári sung the last note before Sándor Decsi had stuck +the short clay pipe in his mouth again. + +"There you go, putting that horrid pipe in your mouth!" she exclaimed +sulkily. + +"Well, it matches me, I'm horrid too," said the lad. + +"You are, just a horrid rascal! A lad like you is good for nothing else +but to be turned into a distaff, and stuck up behind the door!" + +So saying she gave him a shove with her elbow. + +"Now what are you coming round me for?" he asked. + +"I coming round you? Do I want you! If lads like you were sold by the +dozen, never a one would I buy. I was blind and cracked for sure to have +loved you? Why, I could have ten such lads as you for every one of my +ten fingers!" + +She stormed in so genuine a manner that at last even Bodri was +deceived, and believing that his mistress was offended with this horrid +man, jumped up and began growling at him. It made the girl laugh +heartily, but the csikós neither caught her merriment nor saw any cause +for laughter. He just sat there, moody and silent, holding his pipe +between his teeth. The pipe was not alight, for indeed it was empty. +Then the girl tried teasing him. + +"Well, dear! You are quite aware of your own good looks!" she said, "You +wouldn't laugh for the world, would you? Why it would squeeze up your +two black eyes, and make your two red lips quite crooked, and all your +beauty would be spoiled!" + +"Debreczin town does not pay me for being beautiful." + +"But I do. Wasn't my payment big enough for you?" + +"It was. There was even enough for another person left over." + +"Are you beginning again? All about that one yellow rose? Are you so +jealous of your comrade then, your own close companion? How could he +help himself, poor fellow? If a gallant of the town feels his heart +aching for a rose, why he has the whole flower garden to choose from, +full of all sorts and shades of roses--red, pink, yellow, and cream! But +how does the song go? + + "'Only the peasant maid can still + The peasant's heart in good and ill!'" + +"So you take his part?" + +"Well, whose fault is it? The girl's who sings, 'An' he knew he could, +An' he knew it still he would,' or the man's who listens and +understands?" + +"Do you take the blame then?" + +"You said you would forgive me everything." + +"I will keep my word." + +"And love me again?" + +"Later." + +"Ah! it's a big word that 'later,'" said the girl. + +"I love you now." + +"As you have shown me." + +The csikós rose from the table, stuck the short pipe into the wide brim +of his hat, and going to the girl, put his arms round her, gazing, as he +spoke, into her large dark eyes. + +"My darling, you know there are two kinds of fever--the hot and the +cold. The hot is more violent, but the cold lasts longer; the one passes +quickly, the other returns again and again. But I will just speak +plainly, and not mince matters. Mine was the fault, for if I had not +breathed on my yellow rosebud, it would not have opened, and others +would not have found out the sweet scent which has brought all the wasps +and moths. I do love you indeed, but differently now, with the constancy +of the cold sort of fever. I will deal as truly by you as thine own +mother, and as soon as I am made head herdsman we will go to the priest +and live faithfully together ever afterwards. But if I find anyone else +fluttering around, then God help me, for were he my father's own son, I +will crack his head for him. Here's my hand on it." He stretched out his +hand to the girl, and she, in answer, pulled out her golden ear-rings, +placing them in his open palm. + +"But, dearest, wear them," he insisted, "if as you say they are my +silver ones gilded, and I must believe you!" + +So she put them back in her ears, and in so doing she put something back +in her heart that had lain hidden there till now. Somehow this sort of +love, likened to the shivering stage of fever, was not altogether to her +taste. She understood the burning fit better. + +Next the girl, after reflecting, slipped the cloak from the herdsman's +neck and hung it up behind the lattice of the bar, as she was accustomed +to take the coats of customers in pledge, who could not pay their +reckoning. + +"Don't hurry," she said, "there is time. The Vet can't possibly be back +at the Mata Farm before noon, because he must examine all the cattle +that are sold, and write a certificate for each. You will only find his +old housekeeper, and here you are safe and dry. Neither the storm can +drench you, nor your sweetheart's tears. Look how glad your last words +have made me! They will be in my head all day long." + +"And see how far away I thought of those last words, since I have +brought you a present. It is in my cloak sleeve yonder, go and fetch it +out." + +Many things were in that sleeve--steel, flint, and tinder, tobacco +pouch, money bag, and among it all the girl discovered a new packet, +done up in silver paper. When it was unfolded, and she beheld a comb of +yellow tortoise-shell, her face beamed with happiness. + +"This is for _me_?" + +"Whom _else_?" + +Now when a peasant maid twists her plait of hair round a comb, it means +she is betrothed, has a lover of her own, and is "ours" no longer. Nor +can she any more sing the song about "I know not whose darling am I." + +Standing before the mirror, Klári "did up" her hair in a knot round the +comb, and then she looked prettier than ever. + +"Now you shall kiss me," she said. She offered the kiss herself in +fact, stretching out her arms, but the man held her back. + +"Not yet," he said, "I will be hot presently, but I am still shivering." + +It was a rebuff, and the girl drew her brows together, for she felt +shamed, and besides something burned in her heart. However, she only +tried harder to be loving and gentle, love and anger meanwhile striving +madly together in her heart--anger just because of the love. + +"Shall I sing your favourite song," she asked, "while the fish is +roasting?" + +"If you like." + +She went to the fireplace, took a fish out of a big barrel full of the +Hortobágy fish, called "Kárász," slashed it with a kitchen knife on both +sides, sprinkled it well with salt and pepper, and sticking a skewer +through it, placed it beside the red hot embers. Then she sang in her +sweet, clear voice: + + "Ho! good dame of the Puszta Inn, + Bake me fish, bring lemon and wine, + Set your wench on the watch without, + Bid her tell what she sees in time." + +The song has a fascination of its own, bringing visions of the endless +puszta with the mirage overhanging its horizon, and echoes, too, of the +lone shepherd's pipe, and the sad sounding horn of the herdsman. +Besides, is not the whole romance of the "betyárs'," the puszta +robbers', life contained in the words: + + "Set your wench on the watch without, + Bid her tell what she sees in time"? + +As soon as the fish was browned enough, the girl brought it to the +csikós. Never is this dish eaten otherwise than by holding the end of +the spit in the fingers, and picking off the fish with a pocket knife. +It tastes best like that, and a girl cannot show her love for her +sweetheart more distinctly than by roasting him a fish on the spit. Then +what a delight it is to watch him enjoying the work of her hands! + +Meanwhile Klári went on singing: + + "'Nine gendarmes and their weapons flash!' + Cries the girl in her frightened haste; + But the betyár gallops his swift bay steed + Where the mirage plays o'er the boundless waste." + +Once, when they sang this together, at the line "gallops his swift bay +steed," the herdsman would throw up his cap to the rafters, and bring +down his fist with a crash on the table. + +But now he did not heed it. + +"Don't you care for the song nowadays?" asked the girl. "Even that +doesn't please you?" + +"Why should it? I'm no 'betyár,' and have nothing to do with thieves. +Gendarmes are honest men, and do their duty. As for a good-for-nothing +'betyár,' he sets a girl to watch outside, and as soon as he sees so +much as the tip of a gendarme's helmet, he is off and away, 'O'er the +boundless waste,' leaving fish and wine and all behind him. And he +shouts it out in his own praise too! The cowardly thief!" + +"Well, you _have_ changed since you ate the Emperor's bread!" + +"I've not changed, but the times. You can turn a coat inside out if you +like. After all it is only a coat. A bunda--fur-lined cloak--is always a +bunda." + +"And do you know," said the girl, "the greatest insult a man can pay +his sweetheart is to quote a worn-out old saw like that----" + +"But if I know none better! Perhaps the gentlemen from Moravia, who were +here last night, had newer jokes to amuse you with?" + +"Better jokes!" said the girl. "Anyway they didn't sit here looking like +stuck pigs. The painter especially was a very proper young fellow. If he +had only been a hair's breadth taller! As it was he just came up to my +chin!" + +"Did you measure yourselves then?" + +"Rather! Why I taught him to dance csárdás, and he jumped about like a +two months old kid on the barn floor!" + +"And the cowherd?" asked the man, "did he see you dancing with the +German artist, and yet not wring his neck?" + +"Wring his neck! Why they drank eternal friendship together!" + +"Well, it is not my business. Get me some more wine, but better stuff +than this vinegar. I shall have to come out with another old saying, +'The fish is unhappy in the third water,' for the third water should be +wine." + +"That's a double insult to call my wine--water." + +"Never mind," said the herdsman, "just get me a sealed bottle!" + +Now it was the undoing of Sándor Decsi that he asked for a sealed +bottle, one brought from the town, sealed with green wax, with a pink or +blue label pasted on one side, covered with golden letters. Such wine is +only fit for gentlefolk, or perhaps for people in the Emperor's pay! + +Klári's heart beat loud and fast as she went into the cellar to fetch a +bottle of this gentlefolk's wine. + +For, suddenly, the girl remembered about a gipsy woman, who had once +told her fortune for some old clothes, and, out of pure gratitude, had +said this to her as well, "Should your lover's heart grow cold, my dear, +and you wish to make it flame again, that is easily managed, give him +wine mixed with lemon juice, and drop a bit of this root called 'fat +mannikin' into it. Then his love will blaze up again, till he would +break down walls to reach you!" + +It flashed across the girl's mind that now was the very moment to test +the charm, and the roots, stumpy and black, like little round-headed, +fat-legged mannikins, were lying safe in a drawer of her chest. In the +olden days much was believed of this magic plant, how it shrieked when +pulled from the ground, and that those who heard it died. How, at last, +they took dogs to uproot it, tying them to it by the tail! How Circe +bewitched Ulysses and his comrades with it. The chemist, who has another +use for it, calls it "atropa mandragora." But how could the girl know +that it was poisonous? + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Early, ere the dawn, the strangers at the Hortobágy inn started on their +way. + +This inn, though only a "csárda," or wayside house of call, was no +owl-haunted, tumble-down, reed-thatched place, such as the painter had +imagined, but a respectable brick building, with a shingle roof, +comfortable rooms, and a capital kitchen and cellar quite worthy of any +town. Below the flower garden, the Hortobágy river wound silently along, +between banks fringed with reeds and willows. Not far from the inn, the +high road crossed it on a substantial stone bridge of nine arches. +Debreczin folk maintain that the solidity of this bridge is due to the +masons having used milk to slake their lime; jealous people say that +they employed wine made from Hortobágy grapes, and that this drew it +together. + +The object of the early start was ćsthetic as well as practical. The +painter looked forward to seeing a sunrise on the puszta, a sight which +no one, who has not viewed it with his own eyes, can form the slightest +idea of. The practical reason was that the cattle to be sold could only +be separated from the herd in the early morning. In spring, most of them +have little calves, and at dawn, when these are not sucking, the +herdsmen going in among the herd, catch those whose mothers have been +selected and take them away. The mothers then follow of their own +accord. A stranger would be gored to death by these wild creatures, who +have never seen anyone but their own drovers, but to them they are quite +accustomed. + +So the strangers set off for those wild parts of the plain, where even +the puszta dwellers need a guide, in a couple of light carriages. The +two coachmen, however, knew the district, and needed no pilot. They +therefore left the cowboy, who had been sent as guide, to amuse himself +at the inn, he promising to overtake them before they reached the herd. + +The artist was a famous landscape painter from Vienna, who often came to +Hungary for the sake of his work, and who spoke the tongue of the +people. The other Viennese was manager of the stables to the Moravian +landowner, Count Engelshort. It would, perhaps, have been wiser to have +sent some farmer who knew about cattle, for a lover of horses has little +mind left for anything else. But he had this advantage over the rest of +the staff, that he knew Hungarian, for when a lieutenant of Dragoons he +had long been stationed in Hungary, where the fair ladies had taught him +to speak it. Two of the Count's drovers had been told off to escort +him--strong, sturdy fellows, each armed with a revolver. As for the +gentlemen from Debreczin, one was the chief constable, the other the +worthy citizen from whose herd the twenty-four stock cows and their bull +were to be selected. + +Now, at the time of starting, the waning moon and the brightest of the +stars were still visible, while over in the east dawn was already +breaking. + +The townsman, a typical Magyar, explained to the painter how the star +above them was called "the wanderer's lamp," and how the "poor lads," or +"betyárs," looking up at it, would sigh, "God help us," and so escape +detection when stealing cattle. This quite enchanted the painter. + +"What a Shakespearian idea," he said. + +He grew more and more impressed with the endless vision of puszta, when, +an hour later, their galloping steeds brought them where nothing could +be seen save sky above and grass below, where there was not a bird or +frog-eating stork to relieve the marvellous monotony. + +"What tones! What tints! What harmony in the contrasts!" + +"It's all well enough," said the farmer, "till the mosquitoes and the +horse-flies come." + +"And that fresh, velvety turf, against those dark pools!" + +"Those puddles there? 'Tocsogo' as we call them." + +Meanwhile, high above, sounded the sweet song of the lark. + +"Ah, those larks; how wonderful, how splendid!" + +"They're thin enough now, but wait till the wheat ripens," replied the +farmer. + +Slowly the light grew, the purple of the sky melted into gold; the +morning star, herald of the sun, already twinkled above the now visible +horizon, and a rainbow-like iridescence played over the dewy grass, +keeping pace with the movements of the dark figures. The horses, four to +each carriage, flew over the pathless green meadow-land, till, +presently, something began to show dark on the horizon--a plantation, +the first acacias on the hitherto treeless puszta, and some bluish +knolls. + +"Those are the Tartar hills of Zám," explained the Debreczin farmer to +his companions. "There stood some village destroyed by the Tartars. The +ruins of the church still peep out of the grass, and the dogs, when they +dig holes, scrape out human bones." + +"And there, what sort of a Golgotha is that?" + +"That," said the farmer, "is no Golgotha, but the three poles of the +cattle wells. We are close to the herd." + +They halted at the acacias, and there agreed to await the doctor who was +to come jogging along from the Mata puszta, in his one-horse trap. +Meanwhile the painter made notes in his sketch-book, falling from +ecstasy to ecstasy. "What subjects! What motives!" In vain his +companions urged him to draw a fine solitary acacia, rather than a group +of nasty old thistles! At last appeared the doctor and his gig, coming +up from a slanting direction, but he did not stop, only shouted "Good +morning" from the box, and then, "Hurry, hurry! before the daylight +comes!" So after a long enough drive they reached "the great herd." This +is the pride of the Hortobágy puszta--one thousand five hundred cattle +all in one mass. Now all lay silent, but whether sleeping or not, who +could tell? No one has ever seen cattle with closed eyes and heads +resting on the ground, and to them Hamlet's soliloquy, "To sleep, +perchance to dream," in no wise applies. + +"What a picture!" cried the painter, enchanted. "A forest of uplifted +horns, and there in the middle the old bull himself with his sooty head +and his wrinkled neck. The jet black litter surrounded by green pasture, +the grey mist in the background, and, far away, the light of a +shepherd's fire! This must be perpetuated!" + +Thereupon he sprang from the carriage, saying, "Please follow the +others. I see the shelter, and will meet you there." So, taking his +paint-box and camp-stool, and laying his sketch-book on his knees, he +began rapidly jotting down the scene, while the carriage with the farmer +drove on. + +All at once, the two watch dogs of the herd, observing this strange +figure on the puszta, rushed towards him, barking loudly. It was, +however, not the painter's way to be frightened. The dogs, moreover, +with their white coats and black noses, fell into the scheme of colour. +Nor did they attack the man, peacefully squatting there, but when quite +close to him, stood still. "What could he be?" Sitting down, they poked +out their heads inquisitively at the sketch-book. "What was this?" The +painter pursued the joke, for he daubed the cheek of the one with green, +and the other with pink; and these attentions they seemed to find +flattering, but when they by-and-by saw each other's pink or green face, +they fancied it was that of a strange dog, and took to fighting. + +Luckily the "taligás," or wheel-barrow boy, came up at that moment. The +taligás is the youngest boy on the place, and his duty is to follow the +cattle with his wheel-barrow, and scrape up the "poor man's peat" which +they leave on the meadow. This serves as fuel on the puszta, and its +smoke is alike grateful to the nose of man and beast. + +The taligás rushed his barrow between the fighting dogs, separated and +pursued them, shouting, "Get away there!" For the puszta watch-dog does +not fear the stick, but of the wheel-barrow he is in terror. + +The taligás was a very smart little lad, in his blue shirt and linen +breeches worked with scarlet. He delivered the message entrusted to him +by the gentlemen, very clearly. It was "that the painter should join +them at the shelter, where there was much to sketch." But the striking +picture of the herd was not yet completed. + +"Can you run me along in your barrow?" asked the painter, "for this +silver piece?" + +"Oh, sir!" said the lad, "I've wheeled a much heavier calf than you! +Please step in, sir." + +So utilising this clever idea, the painter gained both his ends. He got +to the "karám," seated in the barrow, and managed to finish his +characteristic sketch by the way. + +Meanwhile the others had left their carriages, and were introducing the +Vienna cattle buyer to the herdsman in charge. This man was an +exceptionally fine example of the Hungarian puszta-dweller. A tall, +strong fellow, with hair beginning to turn grey, and a curled and waxed +moustache. His face was bronzed from exposure to hard weather, and his +eyebrows drawn together from constant gazing into the sun. + +By "Karám" is understood on the puszta that whole arrangement which +serves as shelter against wind and storm for both man and beast. Wind is +the great enemy. Rain, heat, and cold the herdsman ignores. He turns +his fur-lined cloak inside out, pulls down his cap, and faces it, but +against wind he needs protection, for wind is a great power on the +plains. Should the whirlwind catch the herd on the pastures, it will, +unless there be some wood to check them, drive them straight to the +Theiss. So the shelter is formed of a planking of thick boards, with +three extended wings into the corners of which the cattle can withdraw. + +The herdsmen's dwelling is a little hut, its walls plastered like a +swallow's nest. It is not meant for sleeping in, there is not room +enough, but is only a place where the men keep their furs and their +"bank." This is just a small calf's skin with the feet left on, and a +lock in place of the head. It holds their tobacco, red pepper, even +their papers. Round the walls hang their cloaks, the embroidered "szür" +for summer, for winter the fur-lined bunda. These are the herdsman's +coverings, and in them he sleeps beneath God's sky. Only the overseer +reposes under the projecting eaves, on a wooden bench for bedstead, +above his head the shelf with the big round loaves, and the tub that +holds the week's provisions. His wife, who lives in the town, brings +them every Sunday afternoon. + +Before the hut stands a small circular erection woven out of reeds, with +a brick-paved flooring and no roof. This is the kitchen, the "vásalo," +and here the herdsman's stew, "gulyáshús" and meal porridge are cooked +in a big pot hung on a forked stick. The taligás does the cooking. A row +of long-handled tin spoons are stuck in the reed wall. + +"But where did the gentlemen leave the cowboy?" asked the overseer. + +"He had some small account to settle with the innkeeper's daughter," +answered the farmer. His name was Sajgató. + +"Well, if he comes home drunk the betyár!" + +"Betyár," interrupted the painter, delighted at hearing the word. "Is +our cowboy a betyár?" + +"I only used the expression as a compliment," the overseer explained. + +"Ah!" sighed the painter, "I should so like to see a _real_ betyár, to +put him in my sketch-book!" + +"Well, the gentleman won't find one here, we don't care for thieves. If +one comes roaming around we soon kick him out." + +"So there are no betyárs left on the Hortobágy puszta?" + +"There's no saying! Certainly there are plenty of thieves among the +shepherds, and some of the swineherds turn brigands, and it does +sometimes happen that when a csikós gets silly and loses his head, he +sinks to a vagabond betyár, but no one can ever remember a cowboy having +taken to robbery." + +"How is that?" + +"Because the cowboy works among quiet, sensible beasts. He never sits +drinking with shepherds and swineherds." + +"Then the cowherd is the aristocrat of the puszta?" remarked the manager +of the stables. + +"That's it, exactly. Just as counts and barons are among grand folk, so +are csikós and cowboys among the other herdsmen." + +"So there is no equality on the puszta?" + +"As long as men are on the earth, there will never be equality," said +the overseer. "He who is born a gentleman will remain one, even in a +peasant's coat. He will never steal his neighbour's cow or horse, even +if he find it straying, but will drive it back to its owner. But whether +he won't try a little cheating at the market, that I am not prepared to +say." + +"For gentlemen to take in each other at the horse fair is, however, +quite an aristocratic custom!" + +"Still more so at the cattle market, so I would recommend you to use +your eyeglass while you are with us, for when once you have driven off +your cattle I am no longer responsible." + +"Thanks for the warning," said the manager. + +Here the doctor interrupted the discussion. + +"Come out, gentlemen," he cried, "in front of the kitchen, and see the +sunrise." + +The painter rushed forward, and began to sketch, but soon fell into +utter despair. + +"Why, this is absurd! What colour! dark blue ground, violet mist on the +horizon, above it orange sky, and over that a long streak of rosy cloud. +What, a purple glory announces the coming of the sun! A glowing fire is +rising above the sharply defined horizon! Just like a burning pyramid, +now like red hot iron! Yet not so dazzling that one cannot look at it +with the naked eye. Now look, do! The sun is five-sided, the upper part +grows egg-shaped! The lower contracts, the top flattens out, now it is +quite like a mushroom! No, no, a Roman urn. This is absurd, it can't be +painted. Now there comes a thin cloud which turns it into a blindfolded +cupid, or a bearded deputy. No! If I painted the sun five-sided and with +a moustache they would shut me up in an asylum." + +The painter threw down his brushes. + +"These Hungarians," he said, "must always have something out of the +common. Here they are giving us a sunrise which is a reality, but at the +same time an impossibility. That is not as it should be." + +The doctor began to explain that this was only an optical delusion, like +the _fata morgana_, and was due to the refraction of the rays through +the differently heated strata of the atmosphere. + +"All the same it is impossible," said the painter. "Why, I can't believe +what I see." + +But the sun did not leave him in wonder much longer. Hitherto, the whole +display had been but a dazzling effect of mirage, and when the real orb +rose with floods of light, the human eye could no longer gaze at it with +impunity. Then the rosy heavens suddenly brightened into gold, and the +line of the horizon appeared to melt into the sky. + +At the first flash of sunlight the whole sleeping camp stirred. The +forest of horns of fifteen hundred cattle moved. The old bull shook the +bell at his neck, and at its sound uprose the puszta chorus. One +thousand five hundred cattle began to low. + +"Splendid! Good Lord," exclaimed the painter ecstatically. "This is a +Wagner chorus! Oboes, hunting horns, kettledrums! What an overture! What +a scene! It is a finale from the Götterdämmerung!" + +"Yes, yes," said Mr. Sajgató. "But now they are going to the well. Every +cow is calling her calf, that is why they are lowing." + +Three herdsmen ran to the well--the beam of which testified to the skill +of the carpenter--and setting the three buckets in motion, emptied the +water into the large drinking trough--fatiguing work which has to be +done three times a day. + +"Would it not be simpler to use some mechanism worked by horse-power?" +inquired the German gentleman of the overseer. + +"We have such a machine," he replied, "but the cowboy would rather wear +out his own hands than frighten his horse with it." + +Meanwhile a fourth cowboy had been occupied in picking out those cows +which belonged to Mr. Sajgató, and in removing their calves, which he +drove into the corral, the mothers following them meekly into the fenced +enclosure. + +"These are mine," said Mr. Sajgató. + +"But how can the herdsman tell among a thousand cattle which belong to +Mr. Sajgató?" asked the manager of the stables. "How do you know one +from the other?" + +The overseer cast a compassionate glance over his shoulder at the +questioner. + +"Has the gentleman ever seen two cows just alike?" + +"To my eyes they are all alike." + +"But not to the herdsman's," said the overseer. + +The manager, however, professed himself perfectly satisfied with the +selected cattle. + +The barrow-boy now came up, and announced that from the look-out tree he +had seen the other cowherd coming up at a gallop. + +"Running his horse!" growled the overseer. "Just let him show his face +here. I'll thrash him till he forgets even his own name." + +"But you won't really strike him?" + +"No, for whoever beats a cowherd will have to kill him before he cures +him in that way, and he's my favourite lad too! I brought him up and +christened him. He is my godson, the rascal!" + +"Yet you part with him? He is taking the herd to Moravia!" + +"Yes," said the overseer. "Just because I have a leaning towards the +boy. I don't like the way he is going on--head over ears in love with +that pale-faced girl at the Hortobágy inn. 'Tis a bad business. The girl +has a sweetheart already. A csikós, who is away soldiering; and if he +comes home on leave and the lads meet, it will be like two angry bulls +who mean business. Much better that he should go away and take to some +pretty little Annie up there, and forget all about his yellow rose." + +In the meantime the veterinary had examined every beast separately, and +had made out a certificate for each. Then the taligás marked the buyer's +initials in vermilion on their hides--for all the herdsmen can write. + +The clattering hoofs of the horse which carried the cowboy could now be +heard. His sleepiness had vanished with the sharp ride, and the morning +air had cleared his head. He sprang smartly from the saddle, at some +distance from the corral, and came up leading his horse by the bridle. + +"You rag-tag and bobtail!" called out the overseer from the front of the +enclosure. "Where the devil have you been?" + +Not a word said the lad, but slipped the saddle and bridle off his +horse. It was white with foam, and taking a corner of his coat he rubbed +its chest, wiped it down, and fastened on the halter. + +"Where were you? by Pontius Pilate's copper angel! Coming an hour behind +the gentry you should have brought with you. Eh, scoundrel?" + +Still the lad was silent, fiddled with the horse, and hung saddle and +bridle on the rack. + +The overseer's face grew purple. He screamed the louder, "Will you +answer me, or shall I have to bore a hole in your ears?" + +Then the cowboy spoke. "You know, master, that I am deaf and dumb." + +"Damn the day you were born!" cried the overseer. + +"Do you think I invented that story that you should mock me? Don't you +see the sun is up?" + +"Well, is it my fault that the sun is up?" + +The others began to laugh, while the overseer's wrath increased. + +"Take care, you blackguard, better not attempt to trifle with me, for if +I once lay hands on you, I'll mangle you like unbleached linen." + +"I'll be there too, you bet!" + +"Indeed you won't, rascal," exclaimed the overseer, who himself could +not help laughing. "There! talk to him in German any of you who can!" + +The manager of the stables thereupon thought he might have a talk with +the herdsman in German. + +"You're a fine strong fellow!" he said, "I wonder they didn't make an +Hussar of you. Why did they not enlist you? What defect could they +find?" + +The cowboy made a wry grimace, for peasant lads do not much care for +those sort of questions. + +"I think they did not take me for a soldier," he answered, "because +there are two holes in my nose." + +"There, you see, he can't talk sense!" exclaimed the overseer. "Clear +out, you betyár, to the watering--not there! What did I tell you? Are +you tipsy? Can't you see the cows are all corralled, and who is to +bring out the bull?" + +It takes a man, and no mere stripling, to take a bull out of the herd, +and this Ferko Lacza was a master of the art. With sweet words and +caresses, such as he might use to a pet lamb, he coaxed out the beast +which belonged to Mr. Sajgató, and led him in front of the gentlemen. A +splendid animal he was too; massive head, sharp horns, and great +black-ringed eyes. There he stood, allowing the cowboy to scratch his +shaggy forehead, and licking his hand with his rough, rasping tongue. + +"And the beast has only seen the third grass," said its owner. The +herdsmen reckon the age of their cattle according to the grass, that is +the summers they have lived through. + +Meanwhile the painter did not let slip the opportunity of making a +sketch of the great horned beast and its companion. "The cowboy must +stand just like that with his hand on the horns." The lad, however, was +not used to posing, and it injured his dignity. + +When their models are restless, artists often try and amuse them with +conversation. + +"Tell me," asked the painter--the others were inspecting the cows--"is +it true that you herdsmen can cheat about your cattle at the market?" + +"Why, yes. The master has this very moment taken in the gentleman with +the bull. He made it out to be three years old, and see, there is not an +eye tooth left in its head!" He opened the animal's mouth as he spoke to +prove the fact of the deception. + +The painter's sense of honour was even keener than his passion for art. +He immediately stopped painting. "I have finished," he said, and hastily +closing his sketch-book, he departed in search of his friends, who were +standing among the chosen cattle in the enclosure. Then he revealed the +great secret. The manager of the stables was horror-struck. Opening the +mouths of two or three cows, he called out: + +"Look here, overseer! You warned us that cattle sellers like to 'green' +their customers, but I won't be done like this. Everyone of these cows +is so old that there is not an eye tooth left in its head." + +The overseer stroked his moustache, and answered with a broad grin, +"Yes, I know that joke; it came out in last year's calendar. The General +who was cheated in the Franco-Prussian War through not knowing that +cattle have no eye teeth." + +"Haven't they?" asked the manager in surprise, and when the doctor +assured him that it was so, he said petulantly, "Well, how should I know +about a cow's mouth? I am no cattle dentist. All my work has lain among +horses!" But he must needs vent his anger on somebody, so he flew upon +the painter for having led him into such a trap. "How could you?" he +demanded. The painter, however, was too much of a gentleman to betray +the cowboy, who had first taken him in. At last the taligás put an end +to the dispute by respectfully announcing that breakfast was waiting. + +The taligás is cook on the puszta. All this time he had been preparing +the herdsman's breakfast of "tesztás kása," or meal porridge. Now, +bringing out the pot, he set it on a three-legged stool. The guests sat +round it, and to each he handed a long tin spoon with which to help +himself. "Excellent," pronounced the gentlemen, and when they had eaten, +the overseer and the herdsmen devoured what remained. The scrapings of +the pot fell to the taligás. Meanwhile, Mr. Sajgató was in the kitchen +preparing the "Hungarian coffee," which all who have been on the puszta +know so well. "Hungarian coffee" is red wine heated up with brown sugar, +cinnamon, and cloves. It tastes most delicious after such an early +outing on the plains. + +Then the taligás took the pot, rinsed it, filled it with water, and hung +it over the fire. The gulyás stew would be ready when the gentlemen +returned from their walk. They would then taste something really good! + +Ferko Lacza showed the company round, pointing out to the strangers all +the sights of the puszta, such as the wind shelter and the railed-in +burying place for cattle. + +"In the good old days," he explained, "if a beast died, we just left it +where it fell, and the vultures came in flocks and picked it clean. Now, +since this new order has come out, we have to inform the vet over at the +Mata Farm, who comes and inspects it, writes down what it died of, and +bids us bury it without fail. But we are sorry to see so much good meat +wasted, so we manage to take a chunk or two, which we cut up small, +cook, and spread out in the sun to dry. This we stuff into our bags, and +whenever we want gulyás, why we throw as many dried handfuls of meat +into the pot as there are men to eat it." + +The painter looked the cowboy hard in the face, then turned to his +master. + +"Does this worthy herdsman of yours ever happen to speak the truth, +overseer?" + +"Very rarely, but this time he has, for once in his life." + +"Then thank you very much for your delightful gulyás." + +"Oh don't be alarmed!" said the overseer, "there's nothing bad about it. +Since God laid out the flat Hortobágy, that has always been the custom. +Look at those lads, can you desire healthier or stronger fellows? Yet +they have all grown up on carrion. The learned professors may talk as +much as they like, it doesn't hurt us Hungarians." + +The manager, however, listening to this revelation, strictly forbade his +Moravian drovers to touch the dish. + +"Though who knows," said the painter, "whether the old humbug has not +invented the whole story to scare us from the feast, and then have a +good laugh at us!" + +"We'll see," rejoined his comrade, "whether the vet eats it or not, for +he must know all about it." + +And now came the mirage, that seems like the realisation of a fairy +dream. + +Along the horizon lay a quivering sea, where high waves chased each +other from east to west, the real hills standing out as little islands +in their midst, and the stumpy acacias magnified into vast forests. +Oxen, grazing in the distance, were transformed into a street of +palaces. Boats which appeared to cross the ocean turned out on reaching +the shore to be nothing but some far off horses. The fantastic deception +is always at its height directly after sunrise, when whole villages are +often raised into the air, and brought so close that, with a glass, the +carts in their streets can be distinguished, their towers and houses +being all mirrored upside down on the billowy fairy sea. During cloudy +weather, however, they remain below the horizon. + +"Let the Germans copy this," exclaimed Mr. Sajgató to the admiring +group, while the painter tore his hair in despair. + +"Why am I compelled to see things I can't put on canvas? What _is_ +this?" + +"Why the mirage," said the overseer. + +"And what is the mirage?" + +"The mirage is the mirage of the Hortobágy." + +But Ferko Lacza knew more than his master. + +"The mirage is God's miracle," he told them, "sent to keep us poor +herdsmen from growing weary of the long day on the puszta." + +Finally the painter turned to the doctor for an explanation. "I know +even less," said he. "I have read Flammarion's book on the atmosphere, +where he speaks of the Fata Morgana as seen on the African deserts, the +coasts of the Arctic ocean, on the Orinoco, and in Sicily, also Humboldt +and Bompland's descriptions. But learned men know nothing of the +Hortobágy mirage, though it may be seen every hot summer's day from +sunrise to sundown. Thus are Hungary's wonderful natural phenomena +utterly ignored by the scientific world." + +It did the doctor good to pour out the bitterness of his heart before +the strangers, but he had no time to admire the marvels of nature, being +obliged to hurry back to his animal hospital and pharmacy at Mata. So, +bidding adieu to both his old and new friends, he jumped into his gig, +and jogged away over the plain. + +The herd was already scattered far out on the puszta, the cowboys +driving it forward. The grass near at hand is more luscious, but in +spring the cattle graze far afield, so that when summer scorches the +distant pastures, the nearer still remain for them. Very touching was +the farewell between the main herd and their companions in the +enclosure--like a chorus of Druids and Valkyre. + +The head of the stables had meanwhile been occupied with the financial +side of the business and in arranging the line of march. In crisp brand +new hundred florin notes he paid Mr. Sajgató, who stuffed them into his +pocket so carelessly, that the manager thought it not superfluous to +remind him to look after his money on the puszta. Whereupon the proud +citizen of Debreczin answered phlegmatically, + +"Sir, I have been plundered and deceived during the course of my +existence, but never by robbers or rogues. They were always 'honourable +gentlemen,' who knew how to thieve and cheat!" + +The overseer likewise received his fee. "If," said the old herdsman, "I +might--out of pure friendliness--give you a word of advice, I would +recommend you, as you have bought the cows, to take the calves as well." + +"What, we don't want a crowd of noisy brutes! Why should we take carts +for them?" + +"They will go on their own feet." + +"Yes, and hinder us at every step, by stopping the cows to drink. +Besides, the duke's chief reason for buying this herd, is, as I know, +not to experiment with pure Hungarian cattle, but to cross them with his +Spanish breed." + +"Of course that is quite another thing," said the overseer. + +There now remained nothing else to do but to start the new bought herd. +The manager gave the herdsman his credentials, and the chief constable +handed him his pass. These documents, together with the cattle +certificates, he put into his bag. Then he tied the bell round the +bull's neck, knotted his cloak round its horns, and bidding everyone +good day, sprang into the saddle. The overseer brought him his knapsack, +filled with bacon, bread, and garlic, enough for the week that they +would take to reach Miskolcz. Then he described the whole route to him. +How they must first go by Polgár, because of the mud at Csege, caused by +the spring rains, and sleep on the way in the little wood. They would +cross the Theiss by the ferry-boat, but should the water be high, it +would be better to wait there, and give hay to the beasts rather than +risk an accident. + +Then he impressed on his godson the necessity of so behaving in a +foreign country that Debreczin need never blush for him. "He must obey +his employers, hold his high spirits in check, never forget Hungarian, +nor abandon his faith, but keep all the Church feasts, and not squander +his earnings. If he married he must take care of his wife, and give his +children Hungarian names, and when he had time he might write a line to +his godfather, who would willingly pay the postage." + +Then, with a godfather's blessing, he left the young fellow to set out +on his journey. + +Now the two Moravian drovers had undertaken the task of driving the +herd, when free from the enclosure, in the desired direction, but +naturally the beasts, as soon as they were set at liberty, rushed about +on all sides, and when the drovers attempted to force them, turned, and +prepared to run at them. Then they again made for the corral and their +calves. + +"Go and help those poor Christians!" said the overseer to the herdsman. + +"Better crack the whip among them," suggested the painter. + +"The devil take your whip," growled the overseer; "do you want them to +run to the four ends of the earth? These are no horses!" + +"I said they ought to be tied together in pairs by their horns," cried +the manager. + +"All right, just leave it to me." + +With that the cowherd whistled, and a little sheep-dog jumped from the +karám, and barking loudly, scampered after the disordered herd, dashed +round the scattered animals, snapped at the heels of the lazy ones, and +in less than two minutes had brought the whole drove into a well-ordered +military file, marching behind the bull with the bell. + +Then the cowherd also bounded after them, crying "Hi, Rosa! Csáko! +Kese!" He knew the name of everyone of the twenty-four, and they obeyed. +As for the bull, it was called "Büszke"--"Proud one." + +Thus, under this leadership, the herd moved quietly off over the wide +plain. For long the gentlemen gazed after it, till it arrived at the +brink of the quivering fairy sea. Then suddenly each beast grew +gigantic, more like a mammoth than a cow, jet black in colour, and with +legs growing to a fearful length, until at last there appeared to be +attached to them a second cow, moving along with the other, only upside +down. Herdsmen, dog, drovers, all followed them head downwards. + +The painter sank back on the grass, his arms and legs extended. + +"Well, if I tell this at the Art Club in Vienna, they will kick me out +at the door." + +"A bad sign," said Mr. Sajgató, shaking his head. "It's well the money +is in my pocket." + +"Yes, the cattle are not home yet," muttered the overseer. + +"What I wonder at," observed the manager, "is why some enterprising +individual has not taken the whole show on lease." + +"Ah!" said Mr. Sajgató with proud stolidity. "No doubt they would take +it to Vienna if they could. But Debreczin won't give it up." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +The veterinary and his gig jolted merrily over the puszta. His good +little horse knew its lesson by heart, and needed neither whip nor +bridle. So, the doctor could take out his note-book, reckon, and +scribble. All at once, looking up, he noticed a csikós approaching, his +horse galloping wildly. + +The pace was so mad that both rider and steed seemed to be out of their +minds. Suddenly the horse rushed towards him, stood still, reared, and +then swerved aside, taking another direction. Its rider sat with head +thrown back, and arched body, clutching the bridle in both hands, while +the horse shook itself, and began to neigh and snort in a frightened +manner. + +Seeing this, the doctor seized whip and reins, and made every endeavour +to overtake the horseman. As he got closer he recognised the csikós. +"Sándor Decsi!" he exclaimed. And the rider appeared to know him also, +and to slacken the bridle as if to allow the horse to go nearer. The +clever animal reached the doctor's gig, puffing and blowing, and there +stopped of its own accord. It shook its head, snorted, and, in fact, did +everything but speak. + +The lad sat in the saddle, bent backwards, his face staring at the sky. +The bridle had dropped from his fingers, but his legs still gripped the +sides of his horse. + +"Sándor, lad! Sándor Decsi!" called the doctor. But the boy seemed not +to hear him, or hearing, to be incapable of speech. + +Jumping from his trap, the doctor went up to the rider, caught him round +the waist, and lifted him out of the saddle. + +"What ails you?" he said. + +But the lad was silent. His mouth was shut, his neck bent back, and his +breath came in quick gasps. His eyes, wide open, had a ghastly gleam, +which the dilation of the pupils rendered all the more hideous. + +Laying him flat on the turf, the doctor began to examine him. "Pulse +irregular, sometimes quick, sometimes stopping completely, pupils widely +dilated, jaws tightly closed, back curved. This young fellow has been +_poisoned_!" he cried, "and with some vegetable poison, too." + +The doctor had found the csikós midway between the Hortobágy inn and the +little settlement at Mata. Probably he was on his way to the hamlet when +the poison first began to act, and had tried as long as consciousness +lasted to get there; but when the spasms seized him, his movements +became involuntary, and the convulsive twitching of his arms had +startled the horse. It was also foaming at the mouth. + +The doctor next attempted to lift him into the gig, but the lad was too +heavy, and he could not manage it. Still, to leave him on the puszta was +impossible. Before he could return with help the eagles would already be +there, tearing at the unfortunate man. All this time the horse looked on +intelligently, as if it would speak, and, now bending its head over its +master, it gave some short abrupt snorts. + +"Well, help me then," said the doctor. + +Why should he not understand, a puszta steed, who has three-quarters of +a soul at least? Seeing the doctor struggling with his master, it caught +hold of his waistcoat with his teeth, and raised him, and so between +them, they managed to get the csikós into the gig. Then the doctor +knotted the horse's halter to the back of the trap, and galloped on to +the settlement. + +There, it is true, were hospital and pharmacy, but only for animals. The +doctor himself was but a cattle doctor. In such cases, however, he may +help who can. The question was, could he? + +The first thing to do was to discover what poison was at work, +strychnine or belladonna. At all events, black coffee could do no harm. + +Arrived at the farm, the doctor called out his assistant and his +housekeeper. Coffee was ready, but aid was necessary before the patient +could swallow. His jaws were so tightly locked that they had to force +his teeth apart with a chisel before it could be poured down. + +"Ice on his head, a mustard plaster on his stomach," ordered the doctor; +and there being no spare person at hand, he carried out his own +directions, at the same time giving instructions to his assistant, and +writing a letter at the table. "Listen," he said, "and think of what I +am telling you. Hurry in the gig to the Hortobágy inn, and hand this +letter to the innkeeper. If he is not at home, then tell the coachman my +orders are to put the horses in the caléche, and go as fast as he +possibly can to town, and give this sealed letter to the head doctor +there. He must wait and bring him back. I am a veterinary surgeon, and +on oath not to practise on beasts 'with souls.' The case needs help +urgently, and the doctor will bring his own medicine. But ask the +innkeeper's daughter for every grain of coffee she may have in the +house, for that the patient must drink until the real doctor comes. Now, +see how sharp you can be!" + +The assistant understood the task imposed on him, and made all haste to +get under way. The poor little grey had hardly had breathing time +before it was rattling back to the inn. + +Klári happened to be on the verandah, watering her musk-geraniums, when +the gig drove up. + +"What brings you, Pesta," she asked, "in such a fearful hurry?" + +"A letter for the master." + +"Well, it will be difficult to get a word out of him, because he is just +putting a new swarm into the hive." + +"But it is an order from the vet," said Pesta, "to send the carriage to +town immediately for the best doctor." + +"The doctor? Is someone ill? Who has the ague now?" + +"None of us, for the doctor picked him up on the meadow. It is Sándor +Decsi, the csikós." + +The girl gave a cry, and the watering-can fell from her hands. "Sándor? +Sándor is ill?" + +"So ill that he is trying to climb up the wall, and bite the bed-clothes +in his agony. Somebody has poisoned him." + +The girl had to clutch the door with both hands to prevent herself +falling. + +"Our doctor is not sure what is killing the herdsman, so he is obliged +to summon the town doctor to inspect him." + +Then Klári muttered something, but what could not be heard. + +"See, leave go the door, miss," said the assistant, "and let me in to +look for the master." + +"Doesn't he know what has hurt him?" stammered the girl. + +"And the doctor's message to you," added Pesta, "is to collect all the +ground coffee in the house, and give it to me. Till the other doctor +comes with medicine, he is treating Sándor Decsi with coffee, for he +can't tell what poison they gave the poor fellow." Then he hurried off +to search for the innkeeper. + +"He can't tell what poison," murmured Klári to herself, "but I can--if +that be the danger, why I could tell the doctor, and then he would at +once know what to give him." + +She ran into her room, and opening the chest took from its bottom, the +man-shaped witch roots. These she stuffed into her pocket. + +Cursed be she who had given the evil counsel, and cursed be she who had +followed it! + +Then she set to work grinding coffee, so that by the time the assistant +returned from the garden, where he had been forced to help with the +swarm, the tin box was quite full. + +"Now give me the coffee, miss," said he. + +"I am coming with you." + +The assistant was a sharp lad and saw through the sieve. "Do not come, +miss," he said, "you really must not see Sándor Decsi in such a state. +It is enough to freeze one's marrow to look at his agony. Besides, the +doctor would never allow it." + +"It is just the doctor I want to speak to," said the girl. + +"But then who will attend to the customers?" + +"The servant-girl is here, and the lad, they'll manage." + +"But at least ask the master's permission," begged Pesta. + +"Not I!" cried Klári, "he would not let me go. There, get out of the +way." + +So saying, she pushed the assistant aside, flew out into the courtyard, +and with one bound was seated in the gig. There she seized the reins, +flourished the whip about the poor grey's back, and drove where she +wished. The assistant left behind gasping, shouted after her, + +"Miss Klári! Miss Klári! Stop a bit!" But though he ran till he was +breathless, he only caught the gig at the bridge, where the tired horse +had to go slowly up the incline. Then he too jumped on to the seat. + +Never had the grey's back felt such thwacks as on this drive to Mata! By +the time they reached the sandy ground, it could only go at a walk, and, +the girl, impatient, sprang from the gig, and catching hold of the +canister, rushed over the clover field to the doctor's farm, which she +reached panting and speechless. + +Through the window the doctor saw her coming and went to meet her, +barring her way at the verandah. + +"You come here, Klárika! How is that?" + +"Sándor?" gasped the girl. + +"Sándor is ill." + +Through the open door the girl could hear the groans of the sick man. + +"What has happened to him?" + +"I don't know myself, and I don't want to accuse anyone." + +"But I know!" cried the girl, "someone--a wicked girl--gave him +something bad to drink. I know who it was too! She stirred it into his +wine, to make him love her, and that made him ill. I know who it was, +and how it was." + +"Miss Klári, do not play the traitor. This is a serious crime, and must +be proved." + +"Here are the proofs." + +And with that girl took the roots out of her pocket, and laid them +before the doctor. + +"Oh!" cried the doctor, stupefied, "why, this is _Atropa mandragora_--a +deadly poison!" + +The girl clapped her hands to her face, "How did I know it was poison?" +she asked. + +"Klárika," said the doctor, "do not startle me more or I shall jump out +of the window. Surely _you_ did not poison Sándor?" + +The girl nodded mutely. + +"And what in thunder did you do it for?" + +"He was so unkind to me, and once a gypsy woman made me believe that if +I steeped that root in his wine I should have him at my feet again." + +"Well, I never! . . . You must hold traffic with gypsy women, must you? +To school you won't go, where the master would teach you to distinguish +poisonous plants. No, no, you will only learn from a gypsy vagabond! +Well, you have made your lad nice and obedient!" + +"Will he die?" asked the girl with an imploring look. + +"Die? Must he die next? No, his body and soul are not stitched together +in such a ramshackle fashion." + +"Then he will live!" cried the girl, and knelt down before the doctor, +snatching his hands, and kissing them repeatedly. + +"Don't kiss my hand," said he, "it is all over mustard plaster, and +will make your mouth swell." + +So she kissed his feet, and when he forbade that, also his footprints. +Down on the brick floor she went and kissed the muddy footprints with +her pretty, rosy lips. + +"Now, stand up and talk sense," said the doctor. "Have you brought the +coffee? ground and roasted? Right--for that is what he must drink till +the doctor comes. It is well you told me what poison the lad took, for +now I know the antidote. But as for you, child, make up your mind to +vanish from these parts as soon as you like, for what you have done is a +crime, which the town doctor will report, and the matter will come +before the court and judge. So fly away, where there are no tongues to +tell on you." + +"I won't fly," said the girl, drying her tears with her apron. "Here is +my neck, more I can't offer. If I have done wrong, it is only just that +I should suffer for it, but from this spot I won't stir! The groaning I +hear through the door binds me faster than if my feet were in fetters. +Doctor! sir! for God's sake let me be near to nurse him, to foment his +head, smooth his pillows, and wipe the sweat from his brow." + +"Indeed! Is that your idea? Why, they would clap me into the madhouse, +if I entrusted the nursing of the victim to the poisoner." + +A look of unspeakable pain came over the girl's face. + +"Does the doctor believe that I am really bad then?" she asked. Glancing +round she caught sight of the damnatory root lying on the window-sill, +and before he could stop her, had grasped it, and was putting it into +her mouth. + +"No, no, Klárika," said the doctor, "do not play with that poison. Don't +bite it, take it out of your mouth instantly. I would rather allow you +to go to the patient, though it is no sight for you, as I tell you +beforehand. No tender-hearted person should see such suffering." + +"I know; your assistant told me everything. How one cannot recognise +him, his face is so changed. Dark blotches instead of healthy red +colour, death-like shadow on his forehead, and cold perspiration +shining on his cheeks. His eyes are wide open with a glassy stare, his +lips seem gummed together, and if he opens them they foam. How he +groans, struggles, gnashes his teeth, tosses his arms about, and +contorts his back! An agonising sight! But let this be my punishment, to +feel his moans and sufferings, like so many sharp knives stabbing my +heart. And if I do not actually witness them with my own eyes and ears, +I shall still seem to see and hear them as acutely as if I was really +present." + +"Well," said the doctor, "let us see if you are really brave enough. +Take charge of the coffee-pot, and have black coffee always ready; but +if you burst out crying I will push you out of the room." + +Then he opened the door and allowed her to enter. + +The world went blue and green to the girl as her eyes fell on her +sweetheart lying there. Where was the radiant young fellow who had left +her such a short time ago? Now it was painful to look at him, to endure +the sight of him. + +The doctor called in his assistant, and the girl stifled her sobs as +best she might, over the coffee-pot. If the doctor caught the sound of +one he would glance at her reproachfully, and she would pretend it was a +cough. + +The two men applied mustard plasters to the patient's feet. + +"Now bring your coffee and pour it into his mouth," said the doctor. + +But that was a business! Both had to exert their full strength to hold +down the lad's arms, and prevent his flinging them about. + +"Now, Klárika, open his mouth; not like that! You must force his teeth +apart with the chisel. Don't be afraid, he won't swallow it. See, he +holds it as fast as a vice." + +The girl obeyed. + +"Now pour in the coffee by the spout, gently. There you are a clever +girl. I can recommend you to the Sisters of Mercy as a sick nurse!" + +There was a smile on the girl's face, but her heart was breaking. + +"If only he would not look at me with those eyes!" + +"Yes," said the doctor, "that is the worst of all, those two staring +eyes. I think so too." + +At length there seemed some little improvement, possibly the effect of +the remedy. The patient's groans became less frequent, and the cramp in +his limbs relaxed, but his forehead burned like fire. The doctor +instructed the girl how to wring out the cold water bandage--lay it on +the aching head, leave it a little, and then change it again. She did +all that he bade her. + +"Now I see that you have a brave heart," he said, and in time came her +reward, for to her joy the sufferer suddenly closed his eyelids, and the +terrible stare of those black-shadowed eyes ceased altogether. Later his +mouth relaxed and they were able to open the close-shut jaws without +difficulty. + +Maybe it was the prompt application of the antidote; maybe the dose of +poison had not been strong, but by the time the doctor from town had +arrived, the patient was very unmistakably better. The veterinary and +the doctor conversed in Latin, which the girl could not understand, but +her instinct told her that it was of her they were speaking. Then the +doctor ordered this and that, and after writing the _usum repertum_, +returned to his carriage, and hastened back to town. + +Not so the gendarme whom he had brought with him on the box. He +remained. Hardly had the physician gone, when another trap rumbled into +the yard. This was the Hortobágy innkeeper, who had come to demand his +daughter. + +"Gently now, master," they said, "the young woman is under arrest. Don't +you see the gendarme?" + +"I always did say that when once a girl loses her head she goes mad +altogether. Well, it's no concern of mine." And with charming +indifference the old innkeeper thereupon turned and drove back to the +Hortobágy inn. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +All night long the girl watched beside him--to no one would she yield +her place at the sick bed. She had been up till dawn the night before as +well, but how differently occupied! This was her penance. + +Now and then she nodded sleepily in her chair, but the slightest moan +from the sick man sufficed to wake her. Sometimes she renewed the cold +bandage on his head, and bathed her own eyes to keep herself awake. At +the first cock-crow kindly sleep settled softly on the patient. He +stretched himself out and began to snore with beautiful regularity. At +first the girl was terrified, and thought the death struggle was at +hand, but presently she grew very happy. This was a good honest snore, +such as could only emanate from healthy lungs; and besides, as she +reflected, it kept her wide awake. When the cock crew for the second +time, he was in a sound slumber. + +Then he started from sleep and yawned widely. + +Thank heaven! He could yawn again. + +The spasms had quite ceased, and all who suffer from their nerves know +the worth of a good yawn after the attack. It is as good as a lottery +prize. + +The girl wished to give him more coffee, but the man shook his head. +"Water," he murmured. + +So she rapped through to the doctor, who was reposing in the next room, +to know if she might give the patient water, as he was asking for it. + +The doctor rose, and came out in dressing-gown and slippers, to see for +himself. He was most satisfied. "He is going on well; to be thirsty is a +good sign. Give him as much water as he wants." The invalid drank a +whole carafe and then dropped into a quiet slumber. + +"Now he is fast asleep," said the doctor to Klári, "so you may go and +lie down on the bed in the housekeeper's room. I will leave my door +open, and take care of him." + +But the girl pleaded so hard to be allowed to stay, to lean her head on +the table and thus steal a nap, that he at last let her do as she +pleased. Suddenly she awoke with a start to find it was day, and the +sparrows were twittering at the windows. + +The patient was then dreaming as well as sleeping. His lips moved, he +murmured something and laughed. His eyes half opened, but evidently with +a great effort, for they closed immediately. But his parched lips seemed +to be asking for something. + +"Shall I give you water?" whispered the girl. + +"Yes," he muttered, with his eyes shut. + +So she brought him the water bottle, but he had not strength enough in +his arms--this great fellow--even to raise the tumbler to his mouth. She +had to lift his head and give it to him. Even while drinking he fell +half asleep. + +Hardly had his head touched the pillow when he began to hum +aloud--probably a continuation of the gay air of his dreams: + + "Why not love this world of ours? + Gypsy maid, Magyar maid, both are flowers." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +A day or two later the lad was on his feet again. Such tough fellows as +he, born and bred on the puszta, do not linger long on the sick list +when once the crisis is past. They abhor bed. So on the third day he +told the doctor that he wished to get back to the horses at his place of +service. + +"Wait a bit, Sándor, my boy. Somebody has to speak with you first." + +"Somebody" turned out to be the examining magistrate. On the third day, +after the report, this official, with his notary and a gendarme, arrived +at Mata to conduct the formal inquiry. The accused--the young woman--had +already been examined, and had given a full account of everything. She +denied nothing, only saying in her defence that she was very much in +love with Sándor, and wished to make him love her as well. + +All this was taken down in the protocol and signed. Nothing now remained +but to confront the prisoner with her victim. And this was done as soon +as the herdsman had regained sufficient strength. + +Meanwhile he never once uttered the girl's name in the doctor's +presence, pretending not to know that she had been in the house nursing +him, and as the young man recovered consciousness, she ceased to show +herself at all. Before confronting her with him, the magistrate read out +the deposition to the girl, who confirmed it anew, and would not have a +word altered. + +Then Sándor Decsi was brought forward. + +As soon as the csikós entered the room he began to act a preconcerted +rôle. His swaggering betyár airs were such that one would have thought +he had only learnt to play the csikós on the stage. When the judge asked +his name he stared at him over his shoulder. + +"My worthy name? Sándor Decsi! I have hurt no one, nor have I stolen +anything, that I should be dragged here by gendarmes. Besides, I am not +under civil authority. I am still a soldier of the Emperor, and if +anyone has a complaint against me, let him go before the regimental +authorities, and there I will answer him." + +The magistrate silenced him. "Gently, young man, no one is accusing you +of anything. We only want enlightenment in an affair closely concerning +yourself. That is the object of this investigation. Tell us when were +you last in the taproom of the Hortobágy inn?" + +"I can inform you exactly. What is there to hide? But first send away +this gendarme at my back. Because if he should happen to come too near, +I am touchy and might give him a blow." + +"Now, now, not so fast, young fellow. The gendarme is not guarding you. +Tell us when it was that you visited Miss Klári here--the day she served +you with wine?" + +"Well, I will as soon as I have got my wits together. The last time I +was at the Hortobágy inn was last year, on Demeter's day, when they +engage the shepherds. Then they took me for a soldier, and I have not +been in the place since." + +"Sándor!" broke in the girl. + +"Yes, Sándor is my name. So they christened me." + +"Then you were not there three days ago, when the barmaid gave you the +wine mixed with mandragora, which made you so ill?" + +"I _never_ was at the Hortobágy inn, nor did I see Miss Klári. It is +half a year since I asked for any of her wine!" + +"Sándor, you are lying for my sake!" cried the girl. + +The judge grew angry. + +"Do not try to mislead the authorities with your denials. The girl has +already confessed everything--that she made you drink wine poisoned with +mandrake roots." + +"Why, then, the young woman lied," said the herdsman. + +"But what reason could she have for accusing herself of a crime which +entails such heavy punishment?" + +"Why, what reason? Because when the mad fit comes upon a girl, she +simply raves without rhyme or reason. Miss Klári fancies our eyes don't +meet each other's often enough, so she has an ill will against me, and +now she takes to accusing herself to compel me to let out the _other +one's_ name, out of sheer compassion--the pretty lass, to whom I went to +lose my soul and cure my heart, and who gave me the charm to drink. +Well, if I choose I'll tell, but if I don't, I won't. This is Miss +Klári's revenge for my having neither called on her, nor gone near her +since I came home on leave." + +At these words the girl turned on him like a fury. + +"Sándor!--you who have never lied in your life--what ails you? When the +one little lie, which they put in your mouth, would have saved you from +soldiering, that you could not tell! Now you deny being with me three +days ago. Then who brought me the comb that I have done up my hair +with?" + +The csikós laughed grimly. + +"Who brought it, and why? Surely the young lady knows better than I!" + +"Sándor, this is not right of you! I don't mind if they put me in the +pillory for my wrong-doing, and lash and scourge me. Here is my head; +let them cut it off if they like. But don't tell me you never cared for +me, nor came to see me, for that is worse than death." + +The judge flew into a rage. "Confound you," he cried. "Settle your love +affairs between yourselves. Since a flagrant case of poisoning has been +committed, I want to know who was the culprit!" + +"Now answer!" exclaimed the girl, with flaming cheeks. "Answer that!" + +"Well, well. Since I must, so be it, I can tell you all about it. On the +Ohát puszta I fell in with a gypsy band in tents. One of them, a lovely +girl, with eyes like sloes, who was standing outside, spoke to me, and +invited me in. They were roasting a sucking pig, and we enjoyed +ourselves. I drank their wine, and at once felt that it had a bitter +taste; but the kisses of the gypsy lass were so sweet that I forgot all +about it." + +"You _lie_, _lie_, _lie_!" shrieked the girl. "You have invented that +story this very minute!" + +The herdsman laughed loudly, clapped one hand to the crown of his head, +snapped his fingers in the air, and started his favourite song: + + "Why not love this world of ours? + Gypsy maid, Magyar maid, both are flowers." + +Not this very minute had he invented this tale, but on that night of +pain when the "Yellow Rose" had sat smoothing his pillows and bathing +his brow. Then, with his aching head, he had thought out a plan to save +his faithless sweetheart. + +The judge struck his fist on the table. + +"None of your nonsense before me, making fun of the matter." + +"I make fun of the matter!" exclaimed the csikós, becoming serious +instantly. "I swear before God above, all I have said is true." + +He raised his three fingers, and the girl screamed out, + +"No, no! Do not perjure yourself! Do not risk the salvation of your +soul!" + +"The devil take you both, for you are both mad." This was the judge's +verdict. "Notary, take down the herdsman's statement regarding the +gypsy, who will be charged with committing the crime. As to her +whereabouts, that the police must discover. It is their business. You +two can go; if necessary, we will summon you again." + +Then they let the girl free. She deserved a little fatherly rebuke, and +that she got. + +The lad remained behind to hear his deposition taken down, and to sign +it. The girl waited on the verandah for him to come out, his horse being +tethered to an acacia hard by. + +The lad, however, first went to the doctor to thank him for his +unremitting kindness. The doctor having attended the inquiry, had, of +course, heard everything. + +"Well, Sándor," he said, as soon as the thanks had been got over, "I +have seen many famous actors on the stage, but never one who played the +betyár as you did!" + +"I did right, didn't I?" asked the lad gravely. + +"Yes, indeed, you are an honourable fellow. But say a kind word to the +girl if you meet her. Poor thing, she never meant to do such wrong." + +"I am not angry with her. May God bless you, sir, for your great +goodness." + +As he stepped out on to the verandah, the girl stopped him, and seized +his hand. + +"Sándor, what have you done? Sent your soul to perdition, sworn falsely, +told a lying tale, all to set me free! You have denied ever having loved +me, that my body may escape the lash, and my slender neck the blow that +would sever it. Why have you done this?" + +"That is my affair. This much I will tell you; from henceforth, one of +us two I must hate and despise. Do not cry, you are not that one! I dare +no longer look in your eyes, because I see myself reflected there, and I +am worth no more than the broken button that is coming off my waistcoat. +God bless you." + +With that he untied his horse from the acacia, sprang on to it, and +dashed off into the puszta. + +The girl gazed and gazed after him, till her sight grew dim from tears. +Then she sought till she found the broken button he had cast on the +floor. This she placed next her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +It happened just as the overseer had predicted. When the herd reached +the Polgár ferry it was impossible to cross. The Theiss, the Sajó, the +Hernád, all were in flood. The water touched the planking of the +foot-bridge. The ferry-boat had been hauled up, and moored to the +willows on the bank. Great trees, torn up by their roots, were coming +down on the turbulent dirty flood; and flocks of wild ducks, divers, and +cormorants were disporting themselves on the waters, fearless of the gun +at such a time. + +But that communication should be stopped was a dire misfortune, not only +for the Duke's cattle, but much more so for all the market-goers from +Debreczin and Újváros, striving to reach the Onod fair. There stood +their carts, out among the puddles, under the open sky, while their +owners bewailed the bad luck in the one small drinking-room of the +Polgár ferry-house. + +Ferko Lacza went off to buy hay for the herd, and purchased a whole +stack. "For here we can sit kicking our heels for three days at the +shortest!" + +Now, by good luck, there was, among those bound for the market, a +purveyor of cooked meat, with her enormous iron frying pan, and fresh +pork, ready sliced. She found a ready sale for her wares, setting up a +makeshift cook-shop in a hut constructed of maize stalks. Firewood she +did not need to buy, the Theiss brought plenty. Wine the old innkeeper +had, sharp, but good, since none better was to be got. Besides, every +Hungarian carries his pipe, tobacco, and his bag of provisions when he +gives his mind to travel. + +So the time passed in forming new acquaintances. The Debreczin bootmaker +and the tanner from Balmaz-Újváros were old friends, while the vendor of +cloaks was universally addressed as "Daddy." The ginger-bread baker, who +thought himself better than the others because he wore a long coat with +a scarlet collar, sat at a separate table, but, nevertheless, joined in +the conversation. Later, a horse-cooper appeared; but as his nose was +crooked, he was only allowed to talk standing. When the cowherd entered, +a place was squeezed out for him at the table, for even townsfolk +respect a herdsman's position of trust. The Moravian drovers stayed +outside to watch the cattle. + +The tittle-tattle went on pleasantly and quietly as yet, young Mistress +Pundor not having arrived. When she put in an appearance, nobody would +get in a word edgeways. But her cart had evidently stuck on the way, at +some seductive inn, she having seized the opportunity of travelling with +the carpenter, her brother-in-law. He was taking tulip-decorated chests +to the Onod fair, while young Mistress Pundor supplied the world with +soap and tallow candles. When the herdsman entered, the room was so full +of smoke that he could hardly see. + +"Then tell us, 'Daddy,'" the shoemaker was saying to the tanner, "for +you at Újváros are nearer the Hortobágy inn than we; how did the +innkeeper's girl poison the csikós?" + +At these words the cowboy felt as if he had been shot through the heart. + +"How was it? Well, pretty little Klárika there peppered the stew she was +making him with crows' claws." + +"I know otherwise," interrupted the ginger-bread baker. "Little Klári +put datura in the honeymead--the stuff they use for stupefying fish." + +"Well, of course, the gentleman must know best, for he has a gold watch +chain! They sent for the regimental surgeon from Újváros to dissect the +deceased csikós, and he found the claws in his inside. They put them in +spirits, to be produced as evidence at the trial!" + +"So you have killed the poor fellow! We didn't hear he died from the +poison, only went mad, and was sent up to Buda to have a hole bored in +his head, for all the strength of the poison had gone there." + +"Sent him up to Buda, did they? Sent him underground, you mean! Why, my +wife herself spoke to the very maker of imitation flowers who made those +strewn over Decsi's shroud. That is a fact!" + +"Now, now! Mistress Csikmak is here with her fried meat, and as she came +a day later from Debreczin, she must know the truth. Let us call her +in." + +But Mistress Csikmak, being unable to leave her frizzling pan, could +only give her opinion through the window. She, likewise, buried the +poisoned csikós. The Debreczin clerk had chanted over his grave, and the +priest had preached a farewell sermon. + +"And what happened to the girl?" inquired three voices at once. + +"The girl! She ran off with her lover--a cowboy; by whose advice she +poisoned the csikós. They are setting up a robber band together." + +Ferko Lacza listened quietly to all this. + +"Stuff and nonsense. Bosh!" exclaimed the ginger-bread baker, capping +her version. "I'm afraid you've not heard right, dear Mistress Csikmak. +They caught the girl directly, put her in irons, and brought her in +between gendarmes. My lad was there when they took her to the +Town-House." + +Still the cowherd listened without stirring. + +Suddenly, amid great commotion, arrived the above-mentioned +laggard--young Mistress Pundor, she foremost, then the driver, lastly +the brother-in-law, dragging a large chest. How polite a language is +Hungarian, even an individual like the soap-making lady has her title of +respect, "ifjasszony" (young mistress). + +"Now Mistress Pundor will tell us what happened to the girl at the inn +who poisoned the csikós," cried everyone. + +"Yes, of course. Dear soul. Just let me get my breath a bit." With that +she sat down on the large chest, a chair or bench would have smashed to +atoms under her form. + +"Did they catch pretty Klári? or has she run away?" + +"Oh, my dears, why they have tried her already, condemned to death she +is, to-morrow they put her in the convict's cell, and the execution is +the day after. The headsman comes to-day from Szeged, and they have +taken a room for him at the White Horse, because the folks at the Bull +refused him. 'Tis as true as I'm sitting here. I have it from the porter +himself, who comes to me for candles." + +"And what sort of death is she to have?" + +"Well, under the old rule--and richly she deserves it--they would set +her on straw and burn her. But seeing she is of the better class, and +her father of good family, they will only cut off her head. They +generally behead gentlefolk." + +"Ah, quit that, mistress," contradicted the ginger-bread man. "Do they +heed such things nowadays? Not a bit of it! Why, before '48, if I put on +my mantle with the silver buttons, they took me for--a gentleman, and +never asked me for toll on the bridge at Pest, but now I may wear my +mantle----" + +"Oh, drop your mantle with the silver buttons!" said the cloth merchant, +taking the word out of his mouth. + +"Let the young mistress here tell us what she has heard. What object +could the pretty lass have for contriving such a murder?" + +"Ah, 'tis a very strange business. One murder leads to another. A while +ago, a rich Moravian cattle-dealer came here buying cattle. He had much +money. Pretty Klári, there, talked it over with her lover, the cowherd, +and together they murdered the dealer, and threw him into the Hortobágy. +But the horseherd, who was also sweet on the girl, caught them at it, +and so first they divided the stolen money between them, and then +poisoned the csikós to put him out of the way." + +"And what about the cowherd then, has he been caught?" inquired the +bootmaker excitedly. + +"They would if they could, but he has vanished utterly. Gendarmes are +searching the whole puszta for him, and a price is set on his head. They +have stuck up his description, as I have read for myself, a hundred +dollars to whoever catches him alive. I know him well enough too!" + +Now, had Sándor Decsi been sitting there instead of Ferko Lacza, great +would have been the scene, for here was the moment for a real effective +bit of drama. To fling his loaded cudgel on the table, knock the chair +from under him, and shout out, "I am the herdsman on whose head they +have set a price. Which of you wants the hundred dollars?" + +Then the whole worthy company would have taken to their heels and fled, +some to the cellar, some up the chimney. + +But the cowboy was of a different temperament, and had been used all his +life to act with care and caution. Besides, his work among the cattle +had impressed upon him the imprudence of catching the bull by the horns. + +So leaning his elbows on the table, he asked calmly, "Would you then +recognise the herdsman from the description, mistress?" + +"Why not indeed! How could I help knowing him? He has bought my soap +often enough to be sure!" + +"But, dear me, ma'am," said the horse-cooper, who desired to display his +knowledge, "what use can a herdsman have for soap? Surely, all cowboys +wear blue shirts and breeches which never need washing, because the +linen has been first boiled in lard!" + +"Deary me! Sakes alive! Did you ever! So soap is only wanted for dirty +clothes, is it? A cowboy never shaves, does he? Perhaps he always wears +as long a beard as a Jew horse-cooper?" + +Everyone shrieked with laughter, much to the discomfiture of the snubbed +intruder. + +"Now, need I have exposed myself to that?" grumbled the unhappy man. + +"You don't happen to know the name," continued the herdsman, in a quiet +voice, "of that cowboy, mistress?" + +"Not know his name! It has but just slipped out of my mind. 'Tis on the +tip of my tongue, for I know him as well as my own child." + +"Is it Ferko Lacza?" + +"Yes, yes, that's it. Why, you've taken it out of my mouth. Perhaps you +know him yourself?" + +But the herdsman refrained from announcing that he knew him as well as +his father's only son. Quietly knocking out the ashes from his pipe, he +refilled it, rose, and propped up his cudgel against the straw-bottomed +chair to show it was engaged, and no one else might occupy it. Then, +relighting his pipe at the solitary candle burning on the middle of the +table, he left the room. Those remaining made remarks about him. + +"Surely something heavy as lead is weighing on that man!" + +"I don't like the look of his eyes!" + +"Could he know aught about the csikós' murder, think you?" + +Again the horse-dealer committed the offence of meddling in the +discussion. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "permit me to make the humble +observation that yesterday, when I was on the Ohát puszta, buying +horses, I there saw the murdered and poisoned Sándor Decsi, looking as +fresh and blooming as a rosy apple! He lassoed the colts for me. This is +as true as I live!" + +"_What?_ And you let us sit here telling lies to one another?" stormed +the whole assembly. "Here, clear out; get away!" + +No sooner said than done, they seized him by the collar and flung him +out of the room. + +The chucked-out traveller, smoothing his crumpled hat, spluttered and +swore, till he found a moral to fit the case. + +"Now, need I have exposed myself to that? What is the good of a Jew +speaking the truth?" + +Meanwhile, the cowherd going to the cattle proposed to the Moravian +drovers that they should go inside for a change and drink a glass of +wine; he would watch the cows. The chair with the stick beside it was +his. + +While he watched he picked up a bit of "poor man's peat," stuffing it up +his coat sleeve. What could he want with it? + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Lucky it is that no one outside the Hortobágy knows about this "poor +man's peat" which is gathered on the meadow-land. One thing is +certain--it is no lily-of-the-valley. It is the sole fuel of the puszta +herdsman, in fact, a sort of zoological peat. + +We remember the tale of the Hungarian landowner who, finding it +advisable to go abroad after the Revolution, chose free Switzerland as a +temporary place of residence. But his eyes never grew used to the high +mountains. Every evening, on withdrawing to his room, he would take a +piece of "peat," found on the pasture, and laying it on the hearth, +kindle it. Then, as he sat with closed eyes in the smell of the smoke, +he would once more fancy himself back on the wide, wide plains, among +the moving herds and tinkling cow bells, and all the rest for which his +soul longed. . . . + +Well, if this peat-smoke can exert such a strong influence on an +educated mind, how were it possible to doubt the following story? + +The travellers had to wait two more days at the Polgár ferry. + +On the third, about midnight, the ferry-man brought the glad tidings to +the expectant crowd, whose patience and provisions were alike exhausted, +that the Theiss had fallen greatly. The ferry-boat had been replaced, +and by morning they would be able to cross. + +Those with carts lost no time in running them on board, and arranging +them side by side. Next they took the horses. Then came the turn for the +cattle. Room was made for them with difficulty. The crush was great, but +mild, after all, to what theatre-goers usually endure! + +Last of all, the bull, the terror of everyone, was brought, and now no +one remained but the herdsman and his horse. The two Moravian drovers +took their places between the cows and the carts. But as yet no start +could be made. The tow-rope was strained taut by the water, and they +were obliged to wait till the sunshine could relax it somewhat. Moisture +was rising like steam all along its surface. + +So the cowherd, wishing to utilise the time, suggested that the +ferry-man might cook them a "paprikás" of fish. Nothing else eatable was +to be had, but a pot was at hand, likewise plenty of fish, left by the +receding waters. The boatmen caught them by sticking an oar under their +gills--fat carp, silurius, and sturgeon. These they hastily cleaned, cut +up, and cast into the pot, underneath which a little fire was kindled. + +Now all was ready, when the question rose: "Who has 'paprika'?" Every +ordinary, self-respecting Hungarian carries his own supply in his +knapsack; but after a three days' famine even "paprika" will give out! +Nevertheless, no "paprika," no fish stew. + +"I have some," said the cowboy, and pulled a wooden box from his sleeve. +Every one noted what a far-seeing man he must be to reserve his own +"paprika" for the last extremity, and henceforth regarded him as the +saviour of the party. + +The stew-pot was in the end of the ferry-boat, and to reach it the +herdsman traversed its whole length, the cattle being stationed about +the middle. But, then, who cares to let his box of "paprika" out of his +own hand? While the ferry-man was busy seasoning the fish with the red +pepper (Oken, writing about it, calls it _poison_; but that some wild +tribes dare to eat it), the cowboy took the opportunity to drop his +piece of "peat," unobserved into the fire. + +"I say! that 'paprikás' must be singeing! What a smell it has!" remarked +the cobbler presently. + +"Smell! Stink I would call it," corrected the itinerant cloak vendor. + +But the heavy greasy odour affected the noses of the cattle more +markedly. First, the bull grew restless, snuffed in the air, shook the +bell at his neck and lowed, then lowering his head and lifting his tail +began to bellow dangerously. At that the cows got excited, capered to +and fro, reared up on each others backs, and jostled to the side of the +ferry-boat. + +"Mother Mary! Holy Anna! Protect the ship!" shrieked the fat soap-maker. + +"Hurry up, mistress! seat yourself opposite. That will steady her +again," joked the shoemaker. + +But it was no joke. Every man on board had to clutch the rope to keep +the ferry-boat from tilting over; the other side dipped nearly to the +water. + +Suddenly the bull gave a bellow, and with one great bound, jumped into +the river. Another moment, and everyone of the four and twenty cows had +followed him over the edge. + +The ferry was just about half-way across. + +"Turn back! Turn back!" screamed the Moravian drovers, as the cattle +swam straight towards the bank they had left. They wanted the ferry-boat +to return instantly, that they might go after their beasts. + +"The devil a bit of turning back!" shrieked the market folk. "We must +cross! We are late enough for the fair as it is!" + +"No need to howl, lads," said the herdsman, with exceeding calm. "I'll +bring them to their right minds." + +He jumped on his horse, led it along to the end of the ferry, and +sticking spurs into its sides, leapt over the rail into the water. + +"See, the cowherd will overtake them, no fear!" So the cobbler assured +the despairing drovers. + +But the horse-cooper, left behind on the bank, for he had not managed to +find room for his horses on board, nor had wished to frighten them among +so many cattle, was of a contrary opinion. + +"You'll never see more of that herd!" he yelled to the travellers on the +ferry-boat. "You may whistle for them!" + +"There goes that Jonah again! Where is there a ham bone to shoot him +with?" stormed the cobbler. + +The herd neared the bank in straggling order, and reaching the shallows, +waded out to dry land. The herdsman was behind, for cattle swim faster +than a horse. When he too landed, he undid the stock-whip from his neck +and cracked it loudly. + +"There! He's turning them!" said the market people to console the +drovers. + +But the cracking of a whip only serves to make cattle run on the faster. + +The passengers found much exercise for their wit in this cattle +incident. The ferry-men assured them with oaths that it was not the +first time by any means that it had happened. Beasts brought from the +Hortobágy so often were assailed by home sickness that no sooner was the +ferry-boat put in motion than they would turn restive and spring +overboard, swim to the bank, and run back to the puszta. + +"Men have the same love of home and country," said the ginger-bread man, +who, having often read of it in books, recognised the complaint. + +"Ah, yes!" exclaimed Mistress Pundor, "no doubt the cows have gone home +to their little calves. That was the mistake, to separate the children +from their dear mothers!" + +"Now my idea is different," said the cobbler, who was nothing if not +sceptical. "I have heard often enough that those cunning betyárs, when +they want to scatter a herd, put some grease in their pipes. The beasts, +when they smell it, go stark, staring mad, and scuttle away in all +directions. Then it is easy enough for the betyár to catch a nice little +lot for himself. Now I scent something of the sort in this business." + +"What you smell something, Daddy, and you don't run away from it?" + +Everyone laughed. + +"Wait a bit! Just you wait till we get on shore!" said the cobbler. + +The Moravian drovers, however, saw nothing laughable in the vagaries of +their herd, nor even matter suitable for a discussion on natural +history, but began howling and lamenting like burnt-out gypsies. + +The old ferry-man, who talked Slav, attempted to console them. "Now +don't howl, lads. 'Nye stekat.' He's not stolen your cows, the good +herdsman. Those two letters, 'D.T.,' on the copper plate at the side of +his cap don't mean 'dastard, thief,' but Debreczin Town. He can't run +off with them. When we come over again they'll all be standing there in +a group. He'll drive them back, sure enough. Why even his dog went after +him! But when we take the cattle on board again we must fasten the cows +three together, and tie the bull by the horns to that iron ring. It will +be all right, only you must pay the passage money twice." + +A good hour and a half elapsed before the ferry-boat reached the other +bank, unloaded, reloaded, and returned to the Hortobágy side of the +river. Then the drovers ran up the hill to the ferry-house, and sought +their cattle everywhere. But none were to be seen. + +The horse-dealer said that the angry beasts had galloped madly past +towards the brushwood, and had quickly disappeared among the willows. +They did not go towards the high road, but ran down wind, heads to the +ground, tails up, like beasts attacked by a plague of flies. + +A belated potter, coming up from Újváros with a crockery-laden cart, +related how somewhere on the puszta he had met with a herd of cattle, +which with a horseman and dog at their heels, had dashed roaring along, +towards the Zám hills. Coming to the Hortobágy river, they had all +jumped in, and he had lost sight of both rider and cows among the thick +reeds. + +The ferry-man turned to the gaping drovers, + +"Now you _may_ howl, countrymen!" he said. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +The Ohát puszta is the pasture ground of the "mixed" stud. From the +corral in the centre, all round to the wide circle of horizon, nothing +can be seen but horses grazing. Horses of all colours, which only the +richness of the Hungarian language can find names for: bay, grey, black, +white-faced, piebald, dappled, chestnut, flea-bitten, strawberry, +skewbald, roan, cream-coloured, and, what is rarest among foals, +milk-white. Well does this variety of shade and colour deserve to be +called the "mixed" herd. A gentleman's stud is something very different, +there only horses of one breed and colouring are to be found. + +All the horse owners in Debreczin turn out their mares here, where, +summer or winter, they never see a stable, and only the head csikós +keeps account of their yearly increase. Here, too, the famous pacers +are raised, which are sought for from afar; for not every horse can +stand a sandy country, a mountain-bred one, for example, collapses if it +once treads an Alföld road. + +Scattered groups are to be seen grazing industriously round the +stallions. For the horse is always feeding. Learned men say that when +Jupiter created Minerva, he cast this curse on the horse, that it might +always eat, yet never be filled. + +Four or five mounted csikós watch over the herd, with its thousand or so +unruly colts, and use their thick stock-whips to drive back the more +adventurous. + +The arrangement here is the same as with the cattle herd, the "karám" or +shanty, kitchen, wind shelter and well. Only, there is neither +barrow-boy, nor "poor man's peat," nor protecting watch-dog, for the +horse cannot endure any of the canine tribe, and whether it be dog or +wolf, both get kicked. + +Noon was approaching, and the widely scattered troops of horses began to +draw towards the great well. Two carriages were also nearing from the +direction of the Hortobágy bridge. The head csikós, a thick-set, bony +old man, shading his eyes with his hand, recognised the new-comers from +afar--by their horses. + +"One is Mr. Mihály Kádár, the other, Pelikan, the horse-dealer. I knew, +when I looked in my calendar, that they would honour me to day." + +"Then, is that written in the calendar?" asked Sándor, the herdsman, +surprised. + +"Yes, my boy! Everything is in 'Csathy's Almanack.' The Onod cattle +market is on Sunday, and Pelikan must take horses there." + +His prognostications were correct. The visitors had come about horses, +Mr. Mihály Kádár, being the seller, and Mr. Samuel Pelikan, the buyer. + +Surely everyone can recognise Mr. Mihály Kádár--a handsome, round-faced +man, with his smiling countenance and waxed moustache, and figure +curving outwards at the waist. He wore a braided mantle, a round hat, +and held a long, thin walking-stick, the top carved to represent a +bird's head. His was the group of horses standing beside the pool, with +the roan stallion leading them. + +Samuel Pelikan was a bony individual, with a large, crooked nose, long +beard and moustache, his back and legs somewhat bent from continually +trying of horses. There was a crane's feather in his high, wide-brimmed +hat, his waistcoat was checked, his jacket short, and his baggy, nankeen +trousers tucked into his top-boots. A cigar case was pushed into his +side pocket, and he carried a long riding-whip. + +These gentlemen, leaving their carriages, walked to the "karám" and +shook hands with the overseer, who awaited them there. Then an order was +given to the herdsmen, and they all went out to the herd. + +Two mounted csikós, with tremendous cracking of whips, rounded up the +lot of horses, among which were Mr. Kádár's. There were about two +hundred colts in all, some of which had never felt the hand of man. As +they drove them in a long curved line before the experts, the +horse-dealer pointed out a galloping roan mare to the herdsman on the +grass at his side. + +"I would like that one!" + +Thereupon, Sándor Decsi, casting aside jacket and cloak, seized the +coiled-up lasso in his right hand, wound the other end round his left, +and stepped towards the advancing herd. Swift as lightning, he flung out +the long line at the chosen mare, and with mathematical precision the +noose caught its neck instantly, half throttling it. The other colts +rushed on neighing; the prisoner remained, tossed its head, kicked, +reared, all in vain. There stood the man, holding on to the lasso, +as if made of cast-iron, and with his loose sleeves slipping back, +he resembled one of those ancient Greek or Roman statues--"the +Horse-Tamers." Gradually, in spite of all resistance, and pulling hand +over hand, he hauled in the horse. Its eyes protruded, the nostrils were +dilated, its breathing came in gasps. Then flinging his arms round its +neck, the csikós whispered something in its ear, loosened the noose from +its neck, and the wild, frightened animal became straightway as gentle +as a lamb, readily resigning its head to the halter. They fastened it +directly to the horse-cooper's trap, who hastened to reconcile his +victim with a piece of bread and salt. + +This athletic display was three times repeated; nor did Sándor Decsi +once bungle his work. But it happened the fourth time, that the noose +was widely distended, and slipped down to the horse's chest. Not being +choked, it did not yield so easily; but commenced kicking and capering, +and dragged the csikós, at the other end of the line, quite a +considerable distance. But he put forth his strength at last, and led +the captive before his owners. + +"Truly that is a finer amusement than playing billiards in the 'Bull,'" +said Pelikan, turning to Mr. Kádár. + +"Well, it's his only work!" returned the worthy civilian. + +The horse-dealer, opening his cigar case, offered one to the herdsman. +Sándor Decsi took it, struck a match, lit up, and puffed away. + +The four raw colts were distributed round the purchaser's carriage; two +behind, one beside the near, and the fourth beside the off horse. + +"Well, my friend, you're a great, strong fellow!" observed Mr. Pelikan, +lighting himself a cigar from Sándor's. + +"Yes! If he had not been ill!" grumbled the overseer. + +"I wasn't ill!" bragged the herdsman, and tossed back his head +contemptuously. + +"What on earth, were you then? When a man lies three days in the Mata +Hospital----" + +"How can a man lie in the Mata Hospital? It is only for horses!" + +"What were you doing then?" + +"_Drunk!_" said Sándor Decsi. "As a man has a right to be!" + +The old man twisted his moustache, and muttered, half-pleased, +half-vexed, "There, you see these 'betyárs'! Not for all the world would +they confess anything had ailed them." + +Then the time for payment came round. + +They settled the price of the four young horses at eight hundred +florins. + +Mr. Pelikan took from his inner pocket a square folded piece of +crocodile leather, this was his purse, and selected a paper from the +pile it contained. There was not a single bank-note, only bills, filled +in and blank. + +"I never carry money about me," said the horse-dealer, "only these. They +can steal these if they like, the thieves would only lose by it." + +"Which I will accept," said Mr. Kádár in his turn. "Mr. Pelikan's +signature is as good as ready-money." + +Pelikan had brought writing materials, a portable inkstand in his +trouser pocket, and a quill pen in his top-boot. + +"We'll soon have a writing-table, too," he remarked, "if you will kindly +bring us your horse here, herdsman." + +The saddle of Decsi's horse came in very handy as a table on which to +fill in the bill. The herdsman watched with the greatest interest. + +And not alone the herdsman, but the horses also. Those same wild colts +which had been scared four times and from whose midst four of their +comrades had just been lassoed, crowded round like inquisitive children, +and without the slightest fear. (It is true Mr. Mihály Kádár was bribing +them with Debreczin rolls.) One dapple bay actually laid its head on +the dealer's shoulder and looked on in wonder. None of them had ever +seen a bill filled in before. + +It is probable that Sándor Decsi expressed the silent thought of each, +when he inquired, "Why do you write 812 florins 18 kreuzers, sir, when +the price was settled at eight hundred florins?" + +"Well, herdsman, the reason is that I must pay the sum in ready-money. +Worthy Mr. Kádár here will write his name on the back, and then the bill +will be 'endorsed.' To-morrow morning he will take it to the Savings +Bank, where they will pay out eight hundred florins, but deduct twelve +florins--eighteen kreuzers--as discount, and, therefore, I don't require +to pay the money for three months." + +"And if you do not repay it, sir?" + +"Why, then, they will take it out of Mr. Kádár. That is why they give me +credit." + +"I see. So that is the good of a bill of exchange?" + +"Did you never see a bill before?" asked Mr. Pelikan. + +Sándor Decsi laughed loud, till his row of fine white teeth flashed. + +"A csikós, and a bill!" + +"Well, your worthy friend, Mr. Ferko Lacza is quite another gentleman, +and he is only a cowherd. He knows what a bill means. I have just such a +long paper of his, if you would like to see it." + +He searched among his documents, and holding one before the csikós, +finally handed him the paper. The bill amounted to ten florins. + +"Does Mr. Pelikan know the cowboy?" asked the astonished csikós. + +"As far as I know, you do not deal with cattle, sir." + +"It is not I, but my wife who has that honour. You see she carries on a +little goldsmith business on her own account. I don't meddle in it at +all. About two months ago, in comes Mr. Ferko Lacza with a pair of +ear-rings, which he wants gilded, very heavily gilded too!" + +Sándor started at that, as if a wasp had stung him. + +"Silver ear-rings?" + +"Yes, very pretty silver, filagree ear-rings, and the gilding came to +ten florins. When done, off he went with them--they were certainly not +for his own use--and as he had no money he left this bill behind him. On +Demeter day he is to meet it." + +"This bill?" + +Sándor Decsi stared blankly at the paper, and his nostrils quivered. He +might have been laughing from the grin on his face, only the writing +shook in his two hands. He did not let go of it, but grasped it tightly. + +"As the bill appears to please you so well, I will give it you as a +tip," said Mr. Pelikan, in a sudden fit of generosity. + +"But ten florins, sir, that is a great deal!" + +"Of course, it is a great deal for you, and I am no such duffer as to +chuck away ten florins every time I buy a horse. But to tell the truth, +I should be glad to get rid of the bill under such good auspices, like +the shoemaker and his vineyard in the story----" + +"Is there something false in it, then?" + +"No, nothing false, only too much truth in fact. See, I will explain it +to you, please look here. On this line stands 'Mr. Ferencz Lacza,' then +comes 'residence,' and after that 'payable in.' Now, in both places +'Debreczin' should be written, but that idiotic wife of mine put +'Hortobágy' instead--which is true enough--for Mr. Ferko Lacza does live +on the Hortobágy. Had she written, 'Hortobágy inn' even, I should have +known where to find him, but how can I go roaming about the Hortobágy, +and the Zám puszta, searching the 'karáms' of goodness knows how many +herds, and risking my calves among the watch-dogs? I have fought with +the woman quite enough about it. Now, at least, I can say I have handed +it over at cent. per cent. interest, and we will have no more rows. So +accept it, herdsman. You will know how to get the ten florins out of the +cowboy, for you fear neither himself nor his dog." + +"Thank you, sir, thank you very, very much." + +The csikós folded up the paper and stowed it away in his jacket pocket. + +"The young man seems deeply grateful for the ten florin tip," whispered +Mr. Kádár to the overseer. "Generosity brings its own reward." + +Mr. Mihály Kádár was a great newspaper reader, and took the _Sunday +News_ and the _Political Messenger_; hence his lofty style of speech. + +"That hasn't much to do with his gladness," growled the overseer. "He +knows well enough that Ferko Lacza went off to Moravia last Friday; +small chance of seeing him or his blessed ten florins again! But he is +glad to be clear about the ear-rings, for there is a girl in that +business." + +Mr. Kádár raised the bird's-head top of his cane to his lips +significantly. + +"Aha!" he murmured, "that entirely alters the case!" + +"You see the boy's my godson, and I'm fond enough of the cub. No one can +manage the herd as he does, and I did my best to free him from +soldiering. Ferko is the godchild of my old friend, the cattle overseer, +and a good lad also. Both would be the best friends in the world, if +the devil, or goodness knows what evil fate, hadn't thrown that +pale-faced girl in between them. Now they are ready to eat each other. +Luckily my old friend had a capital idea, and has sent Ferko to be head +herdsman to a Moravian Duke. So peace will once more reign on the +Hortobágy." + +Sándor guessed from the whispering that it was of him they were talking, +and turned away. Eavesdropping is not congenial to the Hungarian nature. +So he drove the herd to the watering-place, where the other horses were +already assembled. Five herdsmen there were, three well-poles, one +thousand and fifty horses. Each csikós had to lower the pole, fill the +bucket, raise the bucket and empty it into the trough, exactly two +hundred and ten times. This is their daily amusement, three times +repeated, and they certainly cannot complain of lack of exercise! + +Sándor Decsi, let no one notice that anything had gone amiss with him. +He was merry as a lark, and sang and whistled all day long, till the +wide plain resounded with his favourite song: + + "Poor and nameless though I be, + My six black horses I'll drive along. + My six black horses are good to see, + And the puszta lad is ruddy and strong." + +First one, then another csikós caught up the air, filling the whole +puszta with their singing. The next day he seemed just as gay, from dawn +till dark, as good-humoured in fact, "as one who feels himself fey." + +After sundown the herds were driven to their night quarters near the +"karám," where they would keep together till morning. + +Meanwhile the boy brought the bundles of "cserekely," that is, +down-trodden reeds, which serve to light the herdsman's fire and to warm +up his supper in the kitchen. Very different is the cowherd's meal to +that of the csikós. Here is no stolen mutton or pork, such as the csikós +of the stage love to talk about. All the swine and flocks pasture on the +far side of the Hortobágy river, and it would be a day's journey for the +aspiring csikós desirous of bagging a little pig or yearling lamb. +Neither is there any of the carrion stew known to and spoken of by the +cowboy. The overseer's wife in the town cooks provisions for the +herdsmen enough to last a week. As to the fare, any gentleman could sit +down to it--sour rye soup, pork stew, "Calvanistic Heaven," or stuffed +cabbage, larded meat. All five csikós sup together with the old +herdsman, nor is the serving lad forgotten. + +A herd of horses differs from a herd of cows after nightfall. Once the +cows have been watered, they all settle down in a mass to chew their +cud, but the horse is no such philosopher. He feeds on into the night, +and as long as there is moon, keeps munching grass incessantly. + +Sándor Decsi was in a gay mood that evening, and as they sat round the +glowing fire, he asked the overseer, "Dear godfather, how comes it that +a horse can eat all day long? If the meadows were covered with cakes, I +could never go on stuffing the whole day!" + +"Well, godson, I can tell you, only you must not laugh. It is an old +tale and belongs to the days when students wore three-cornered hats. I +had it from such an inkslinger myself, and may his soul suffer, if +every word of it be not true! Once upon a time there was a very famous +saint called Martin--he is still about, only nowadays he never comes to +the Hortobágy. We know he was a Hungarian saint too, because he always +went on horseback. Then there was a King here, and his name was Horse +Marot. They called him that because he once managed to cheat Saint +Martin of the steed which used to carry him about the world. Saint +Martin was his guest, and he tied up his steed in the stable yard. Then +one morning early, when Saint Martin wanted to set off on his travels, +he said to the King: 'Now give me my horse, and let me start!' +'Impossible,' said the King, 'the horse is just eating.' Saint Martin +waited till noon, then he asked for it again. 'You can't go now,' said +the King, 'the horse is eating.' Saint Martin waited till sunset, then +urged the King once more for his horse. 'I tell you, you can't have your +horse, because it's _still eating_!' Then Saint Martin grew angry, cast +his little book on the ground, and cursed the King and the horse. 'May +the name of 'Horse' stick to you for ever! May you never be free of it, +but may the two names be said in one breath! As for the horse, may it +graze the livelong day yet never be filled!' Since then the horse is +always eating, yet never has enough. And you, if you don't believe this +story, go to the land of Make-believe, and there on a peak you will find +a blind horse. Ask him. He can tell you better maybe, seeing he was +there himself." + +All the csikós thanked the old man for the pleasant tale. Then each +hastened to find his horse, and to trot away through the silent night to +his own herd. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +It was a lovely spring evening. The sunset glow lingered long in the +sky, till night drew on her garment of soft fleecy mists lying all round +the horizon. + +The sickle of the new moon grazed the Zám Hill, with the lovers' star +shining radiant just above--that star which rises so early and sets so +soon! + +Some distance from the herd, the csikós sought out a resting-place for +the night, and there carefully unsaddled his horse and removed the +bridle from its head, hanging it on his stick, rammed into the ground. +Then he spread the saddle-cloth over the saddle; this was his pillow; +his covering the embroidered "szür." But first he broke up some bread, +left from his supper, and gave it, in his hand, to the horse. + +"Now you may go and graze also, little Vidám (Vidám means gay and +lively). You do not feed all day long like the others! You are always +saddled, and yet, after you have been ridden the whole day, they want to +put you to the machine, and make you draw water. Well, they can want! Do +they fancy that 'a horse is as much a dog as a man'?" + +Then he gently wiped the horse's eyes with his loose sleeve. + +"Now, go and search out good grass for yourself; but don't go far! When +the moon has sunk, and with her that shining star, then come back here. +See, I don't tether you like a cowherd does, nor shackle your feet as +peasants do. 'Tis enough for me to call, 'Here, Vidám!' and you are here +directly." + +Vidám understood. Why not? Freed from saddle and bridle, he gave a jump, +kicked up his hind legs, threw himself on the ground, and rolled over +and over several times with his heels to the sky. Then regaining his +feet, he shook his mane, neighed once, and started off for the flowery +pastures, snorting and flicking his long tail to keep off the humming +night insects. The csikós meanwhile lay down on his grassy bed. What a +splendid couch! For pillow the wide circle of plain, and for curtains +the star-strewn sky! + +It was late already. Nevertheless, the earth, like a restless, naughty +child, refused to slumber yet. Could not sleep in fact. Everywhere there +was sound, soft, indistinct, and full of mystery. The pealing of bells +from the town, or the barking of dogs with the cattle were too far away +to be heard here. But the bittern boomed among the reeds hard by, like a +lost soul, the reed-warbler, the nightingale of the marsh, gurgled and +twittered with thousands of frogs to swell the chorus; and through it +all came the monotonous clack of the Hortobágy mill. High overhead +sounded the mournful wail of flights of wild geese and cranes, flying in +long lines, scarcely to be distinguished against the sky. Here and there +a dense cloud of gnats whirled into the air, making a ghostly whirring +music. Now and then a horse neighed. + +Poor lad! formerly your head would hardly touch the saddle before you +were fast asleep, now you can only gaze and gaze at the dark blue sky +overhead, and the stars, whose names your old godfather taught you. +There in the midst is the Pole Star, which never moves from its place; +those two are the "Herdsman's Team," while that with the changing colour +is the "Eye of an Orphan Maid." The brilliant one, just over the +horizon, is the "Reaper's Star;" still the "Wanderer's Lamp" is +brighter. Those three are the "Three Kings," that cluster the "Seven +Sisters," and the star which is sinking into the mist is called the +"Window of Heaven." + +But why look at the stars when one cannot speak to them? A heavy load +weighs down the heart, a cruel wound makes the soul bleed. If one could +pour out the bitterness, if one could complain, perhaps it might be +easier. But how vast is the puszta and how void! + +The shining star set, also the moon. The horse left the pasture and +returned to its master. Very gently he stepped along, as if fearing to +wake him, and stretching out his long neck, bent his head over him to +see if he slept. + +"No, I'm not asleep. Come here, old fellow," said the csikós. + +At that the horse began to whinny joyously, and lay down near his +master. + +The herdsman raised himself on his elbows, and rested his head on his +hand. Here was someone to speak with--an intelligent beast. + +"You see!" he said. "You see, my Vidám? That is the way with a girl! +Outside gold, inside silver. When she speaks the truth it is half false; +when she lies it is half true! No one will ever learn to understand +her. . . . You know how much I loved her! . . . How often I made your +sides bleed as I spurred you on to carry me the quicker to her! . . . +How often I tied you up at the door in snow and mud, in freezing cold +and burning sunshine! I never thought of you, my dear old horse, only of +how I loved her!" + +The horse seemed to laugh at the notion of not remembering. Of course +his master had done so. + +"And you know how much she loved me! . . . How she stuck roses behind +your ears, plaited your mane with ribbons, and fed you with sweet cakes +from her own hand! . . . How often she drew me back with her kisses, +even from the saddle, and hugged your neck that I might remain the +longer!" + +Vidám answered him with a low whinny. Certainly the girl had done all +that. + +"Till that confounded beggar slunk in and stole half her heart. If he +had but stolen the whole of it! Taken her to himself and gone off with +her! But to leave her here; half a heavenly blessing and half a deadly +curse----" + +The horse evidently wanted to comfort him, and laid his head on his +master's knee. + +"Strike him, God!" muttered the csikós in an agony of grief. "Do not +leave the man unpunished who has plucked another's rose for himself. Did +I kill him, I know his mother would weep!" + +The horse lashed the ground with his tail, as had his master's rage been +transmitted to him. + +"But how can I kill him? He is over the hills and far away by now! And +you are not able, my poor Vidám, to fly all over the kingdom with me. +No, you must stay here with me in my trouble." + +Nothing Vidám could do indeed could alter the situation. So he signified +his acquiescence in the harsh decree of fate by lying down and +stretching out his great head and neck. + +But the csikós would not let him turn his thoughts to slumber, he had +yet something to tell him. A smacking of the lips, very like a kiss, +aroused the horse. + +"Don't sleep yet. . . . . I'm not sleeping. We'll have time enough some +day when we take our long rest! . . . . Till then we'll keep together we +two. . . . . Never shall you leave your master. . . . . Never will he +part with you, not though they offer him your weight in gold . . . . my +one faithful friend! Do you know how you caught hold of my waistcoat and +helped the doctor to lift me up from the ground when I lay on the puszta +as good as dead, with the eagles shrieking over me? You seized my +clothes with your teeth, and raised me, you did! . . . . Yes? . . . . +You know all about it? . . . . my darling! Do not fear, we will never +cross the Hortobágy bridge again, never turn in at the Hortobágy inn. +. . . . I swear it, here, by the starry sky, that never, never, _never_ +will I step over the threshold where that false girl dwells. . . . . May +the stars cease to shine on me, if I break my word----" + +At this great oath the horse stood up on his fore-feet, and sat like a +dog on his hindquarters. + +"But don't think we will grow old here," went on the csikós, "we are not +going to stick for ever on this meadow-land. When I was a little child I +saw beautiful tri-colour banners waving, and splendid Hussars dashing +after them. . . . . How I envied them! . . . . Then later, I saw those +same Hussars dying and wounded, and the beautiful tri-colour flag +dragged through the mire, . . . . but that will not always last. There +will come a day when we will bring out the old flag from under the +eaves, and ride after it, brave young lads, to crack the bones of those +wicked Cossacks! And you will come with me, my good old horse, at the +trumpet's call." + +As if he heard the trumpet sounding, Vidám sprang up, pawed the turf +with his forefeet, and, with mane bristling and head erect, neighed into +the night. Like the outposts of the camp, all the stallions on the +puszta neighed back an answer. + +"There we'll put an end to this business! . . . . There we'll heal the +sorrow and the bitterness, though not by shedding tears! Not the +poisoned glass of a faithless maid, nor her more poisonous kisses will +destroy this body of mine, but the swordthrust of a worthy foe. Then as +I lie on the bloody battle-field, you will be there, standing beside me, +and watching over me, till they come to bury me." + +And as though to test the fidelity of his horse, the lad pretended to be +dead, threw himself limply on the grass, and stretched his arms stark +and stiff at his sides. + +The horse looked at him for a second, and seeing his master motionless, +stepped up with his ears flattened back, and began rubbing his nose +against his master's shoulder, then as he did not move, trotted noisily +round him. When the clatter of hoofs still failed to waken his master, +the horse stood over him, fastened his teeth in the cloak buckled over +his shoulders, and began to lift him, till at last the csikós ended the +joke by opening his eyes and hugging Vidám with both arms round his +neck. + +"You are my only true comrade!" + +And the horse really laughed! Bared his gums to express his joy, and +pranced and capered like any foolish little foal, in his high joy at +finding that this dying was only mere fun and pretence. Finally he lay +down and stretched himself on the grass. Now _he_ was cheating his +master and pretending to be dead. Now the herdsman might talk to him and +smack his lips all in vain. Vidám would not budge. + +So when the csikós laid down his head on the horse's neck, it did very +well as a pillow. Vidám raised his head, saw that his master was +asleep, and did not make a move till break of dawn. + +Even then he would not have stirred, had not his ear been caught by a +sudden sound. + +Giving a loud snort he woke his master. The csikós jumped from his couch +and the horse stood up. + +Day was dawning already, and in the east the sky was golden. In the +distance the dark form of an approaching horse was visible through the +shadowy mist. It was riderless. This is what Vidám had scented. + +It was probably a strayed animal, escaped from some herd. For in +spring-time, when the fit seizes them, the cowboys' horses, weary of +their lonely life among the cattle, and if only they can succeed in +breaking their tether, will run, following the scent, to the nearest +stud. There a fight takes place, that usually ends badly for the +intruders, who are not even shod as are the other horses. + +So the runaway would have to be caught. + +Hastily bridling his horse, and throwing the saddle on his back, the +csikós held the lasso in readiness, and galloped towards the ownerless +steed. + +But no lasso was needed for its capture! As it neared, it headed of its +own accord straight to the csikós, and gave a joyful neigh, to which +Vidám responded--these were old acquaintances! + +"Now what can this mean?" exclaimed the herdsman, "surely this is very +like Ferko's white-faced bay! Yet that must be in Moravia!" + +His wonder increased when the two horses meeting, exchanged friendly +grunts and began lovingly snuffing each other's chests. + +"It is Ferko's horse! There are his initials, 'F.L.,' and for stronger +proof, here is actually the scar of the kick it got as a colt!" + +The bay had brought the rope along with it, also the peg which it had +torn from the ground. + +"How come you on the Hortobágy, eh! whiteface?" asked Sándor, while the +runaway let him catch it easily enough by the halter still knotted to +its head. + +"Whence come you? Where is your master?" + +But this horse was not in sympathy with him, and did not understand his +questions. What can one expect of a horse that spends its life in the +company of cattle? + +The csikós led his captive to the corral, and there shut it in. + +Then he recounted the affair to the overseer. + +But as the day advanced, so too did light break on the mystery. From the +Zám puszta came the barrow-boy, tearing along in such a hurry that he +had even forgotten his cap. + +He recognised Sándor Decsi from afar, and made straight for him. + +"Morning, Sándor bácsi ('bácsi,' uncle, is a title of respect applied to +one's elders. Trans.) Did the bay come here?" + +"Yes, indeed. How did it get loose?" + +"Had a mad fit. Neighed the whole day. When I tried to groom it, nearly +knocked out my eyes with its tail. Then broke loose in the night, and +went off with the halter. I've been looking for it ever since." + +"And where is its master, then?" + +"He's still sleeping--the exertion has quite knocked him up!" + +"What exertion?" + +"Why, what happened three days back. What, you've not heard of it, +Sándor bácsi? How the cows, that the Moravian gentry bought, lost their +heads at the Polgár ferry, and slap-bang, bull and all, jumped over the +side of the ferry-boat, and tore straight home to the Zám herd. The +cowboy could not turn them. He was obliged to come back with them +himself." + +"So Ferko Lacza is at home again?" + +"Yes, but a little more and the overseer would have killed him outright! +No, I _never_ heard the overseer curse and swear as he did that evening +when the herd came rushing over the puszta, Ferko bácsi at their heels. +The foam dripped off the horse, and the bull's nose was bleeding. The +air was just thick with 'devils,' and 'damns,' and 'gallows-trees!' He +raised his stick twice to strike the cowboy too, and it swished through +the air. 'Tis a marvel he did not beat him." + +"And what did Ferko say?" + +"Nothing much, only that he couldn't help it, if the beasts chose to go +mad. + +"'You have bewitched them, you devil!' said the overseer. + +"'Why should I do that?' says Ferko bácsi. + +"'Why? Because you've been bewitched yourself first. That "Yellow Rose" +has given you a charm as she did to Sándor Decsi.' + +"Then they began talking about you, Sándor bácsi, but what I could not +hear, because they sent me off with a box on the ears, and 'pray what +was I listening for? It was none of my business.'" + +"So they spoke about me, did they? And about the 'Yellow Rose'?" + +"As if I knew or cared about their 'Yellow Rose'! But this I do know, +that last Friday when they drove off the cows, Ferko bácsi went into the +shanty to fetch his knapsack, and there he pulled out a coloured +kerchief from his sleeve, and in it a yellow rose was wrapped up. He +snuffed at it, and pressed it to his lips till I thought he was going +to eat it! Then he unpicked the lining of his cap, pushed in the rose +and put it on his head again. Perhaps that was the charm?" + +The csikós swinging the loaded end of his cudgel, struck a yellow +mullein standing in his path, scattering the blossoms far and wide. + +"What harm has the poor 'King's candle' done you?" asked the boy. + +But the intent of the blow had been in another direction. + +"And now what will happen?" questioned the csikós. + +"Well, yesterday, the Moravian drovers turned up on foot, and they +discussed the matter with the overseer. So now the cows are to be driven +towards Tisza-Füred, and all their calves with them, for over the bridge +they surely can't jump! They say the cows ran back to their calves. But +Ferko Lacza only laughs to himself." + +"And will Ferko Lacza go with them this time?" + +"Apparently, since the master never gives him a moment's peace. But the +cowboy doesn't want to clear out just yet. He says the cattle must have +a day or two breathing time after their race, and he himself sleeps the +whole day like a log. Well, 'tis no joke to gallop from Polgár to Zám +puszta at one stretch! So the overseer has granted him two days' rest." + +"Two days? Two? Surely that is over much." + +"I don't know." + +"But I do--or else the two days will lengthen into a rest much longer!" + +"Well, I must hurry and get the bay home before they are up. Because +when the overseer swears at the herdsman, then the cowboy vents all his +rage on me. Just wait till I'm herdsman, and then I'll have a barrow-boy +of my own to knock about! God bless you, Sándor bácsi." + +"He has done that already." + +The little lad jumped on the bay, bareback as it was, and stuck his +naked feet into its sides. But the bay absolutely refused to stir, +turned suddenly right round, and tried to return to the stud. Finally +the csikós, taking pity on the boy, brought out his stock-whip, caught +it a good thwack in the hind-legs and cracked it two or three times, +whereupon the horse, lowering its head, set out full tilt over the +puszta, as straight as it could go. The boy had hard enough work to keep +his seat, clutching the mane with both hands. The csikós, meanwhile, was +quite clear as to his own course. + +"Tell Ferko Lacza that Sándor Decsi sends him his respects!" he shouted +out after the vanishing "taligás." But whether the boy heard this +message is doubtful. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Next day the csikós went into the "karám," and said to the head +herdsman, + +"I have some business on hand, godfather, may I take a half-holiday this +afternoon? By evening I will be back." + +"Certainly you can have leave, my son," replied the old man, "but on one +condition. Your are not to enter the Hortobágy inn. Do you understand +me?" + +"I give you my word of honour not to put a foot inside the Hortobágy +inn." + +"Very well, I know you will keep your word." + +But this, the csikós had omitted to add, "unless I am carried in on a +sheet." + +It was a hot sultry afternoon when he started, the sky was the colour of +buttermilk, and the air charged with moisture. The play of the mirage +seemed specially fantastic. Not a bird sang overhead, but all sank +nestling in the grass. On the other hand the swarms of horse-flies, +gad-flies, and midges appeared more wickedly inclined than ever, and the +horse could only get along slowly, having to drive off the blood-thirsty +torments, now with its hind-foot, now with its head. Still it never +missed the path though the bridle lay slack between the csikós' fingers. +Man too feels the approach of a storm. + +Suddenly, as they reached that substantial triumph of Scythian +architecture--the Hortobágy bridge--the csikós started. + +"No, no!" he cried. "Here we can't go, old fellow. You know how I swore +by the starry heavens never to cross that bridge again." + +But never to _ford_ the Hortobágy river was not included in his oath. + +So he turned down below the mill, and where the water widens into the +shallows, waded easily across. The horse had to swim a little, but the +herdsman took no heed of that; his fringed linen trousers would soon dry +in the hot sunshine. + +Then he trotted on to the Hortobágy inn. Here the horse tried to go at a +brisker pace, whinnying joyously the while. A glad neigh answered it, +for there, tied up to an acacia, stood its comrade--the white-faced bay. + +Properly speaking, the Hortobágy inn has no courtyard, for the wide +grassy expanse fronting house, stable, and sheds is without fence of any +sort. Still it serves as such. A table is put there, and two long +benches where the customers sit tippling under the trees. + +The csikós sprang from his horse, and tied it up to the other acacia, +not that same tree to which the white-faced bay was tethered. + +A couple of long-eared steeds were also meditating in the shade of the +garden paling, stretching out their necks for the overhanging sprays of +barberry, just out of their reach. Their riders were seated at the +table, under the acacia, with their fur-lined "bundas" slung over their +shoulders, inside out, despite the sweltering weather. In fact, they +wore them for shade. As they tippled away, drinking cheap acid stuff out +of green glasses, they hummed an endless shepherd's song, monotonous +and wearisome. Both were shepherds, whose steed is the donkey. + +Sándor Decsi sat down at the further end of the bench, placed his cudgel +on the table, and studied the glittering clouds looming heavy on the +horizon, and the dark rim of earth beneath. A great yellow pillar rose +swirling in one quarter--the whirlwind. Meanwhile the shepherds sang: + + "When the shepherd takes his glass, + Sad and mournful grows his ass. + Cheer up, little donkey, grey! + Behind the flock we'll ride away." + +This was too much for the csikós to stand. + +"See, that's enough, Pista!" he snapped. "For goodness' sake stop that +doleful ditty, and get on your grey donkey and trundle after your flock +before you're too tipsy to move." + +"Dear, dear! Sándor Decsi does seem upset to-day!" + +"I'll upset you worse if you try aggravating me!" said the csikós, and +rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows. Now he was "ready" for +anyone who crossed his path. + +The shepherds whispered. Well they knew the puszta rule that when a +csikós sits at a table a shepherd may only squat down there with his +express permission. If he says, "Get out!" why then the shepherd has to +go. + +One of them rapped on the table with the bottom of his glass. + +"We had better pay, the storm is coming." + +The innkeeper's daughter came out at the sound. She made as if she did +not see the csikós at all, but attended to the two shepherds, counted up +the wine, gave them back the change out of their "dog-tongues," and +wiped the table where wine had been spilled. They mounted their donkeys, +and being once more in full security, rattled on with their song +defiantly: + + "Wolves all fear my dogs so strong. + Two lads lead the flock along. + I? Why I ride all the day + On my little donkey grey." + +Only when they had quite taken themselves off did the girl address the +csikós. + +"Well, haven't you even 'good-day' for me, my dearest treasure?" + +"Sándor Decsi is my name," growled the herdsman savagely. + +"I beg your honour's pardon! Won't you please step into the tap-room, +sir?" + +"Thanks! I'm well enough out here." + +"There you would find fitting society." + +"So I see by the horse. He'll come out to me soon enough." + +"Well, what can I bring you? Red wine? White wine?" + +"No, I won't drink wine," said the csikós. "Bring me bottled beer." + +Bottled beer cannot be poisoned. Once the cork is drawn it all froths +out. + +The girl understood the insinuation. Crushing down the bitterness in her +heart she soon returned with a bottle, which she placed before the lad. + +"What is this?" he cried. "Am I a cobbler's apprentice, to have _one_ +bottle brought me?" + +"Very well, sir. Please don't be angry. I'll bring more directly." + +This time she came back with a whole bundle, and set all six in a row +before him. + +"That is better," said he. + +"Shall I draw the cork?" + +"Thanks! I can do it myself." + +He took the first bottle, broke off the neck against the edge of the +table, and poured the foaming beer into the tall glass beside him. It +costs more like this, because the broken bottle has to be paid for; but +then, "a gentleman is always the gentleman." + +The girl moved off airily, shaking her sides flippantly as she went. Her +golden ear-rings tinkled. Her hair was down again, no longer twisted +round the comb, and the ribbon ends fluttered coquettishly behind her. +"As thou to me. So I to thee." + +The csikós sat quietly drinking his beer, and the girl sang on the +verandah: + + "Hadst thou known what I know, + Or whose sweetheart am I! + Not alone would I weep, + Thou wouldst cry." + +At the fourth line the door was shut with a bang. + +By the time she reappeared again, three empty broken-necked bottles +stood on the table. Klári took them, picking up the broken bits of glass +into her apron. + +After the third bottle, the lad's humour had changed, and as the girl +fussed round him, he suddenly slipped his arm round her waist. + +She made no demur on her part. + +"Well, may one call you 'Sándor' again?" she asked. + +"You always could. What did you want to say?" + +"Did you ask anything?" + +"Why are your eyes so red?" + +"Because I am so happy. I have a suitor." + +"Who?" + +"The old innkeeper at Vervölgy. He is a widower with lots of money." + +"Shall you accept him?" + +"Why not, if they take me to him? Let me go!" + +"_You lie, lie!_ You cover up your lying, and so lie worse than ever!" +cried the lad. + +He removed his hand from the girl's waist. + +"Will you drink more?" she asked. + +"Why not?" + +"But you'll get fuddled from so much beer." + +"Much need of it too to quench the fire burning in me. See you give the +one in there plenty of strong wine. Heat him up with it, so that we may +match each other." + +But she took good care not to tell "the one inside" "about the other" +out here. + +The csikós took the matter into his own hands. He began to sing, +selecting the mocking air with which they are wont to tease the +cowherds: + + "Oh I am the Petri cowboy bold, + I guard the herd on the Petri wold. + My comrades can go + Through the mire and snow; + I lie on my feather-bed safe from cold." + +Well thought! Hardly was the verse at an end before out came his man. In +one hand he carried his bottle of red wine, with the tumbler turned over +the top, in the other his cudgel. Setting down his wine opposite the +csikós, he next laid his cudgel beside the other one, and then took his +seat at the table exactly facing the other lad. + +They neither shook hands nor spoke a word of greeting. Each gave a +silent nod, like two between whom speech is unnecessary. + +"So you are back from your journey, comrade?" asked the csikós. + +"I'll be off again directly if I have the mind." + +"To Moravia?" + +"Yes, if I don't change my plans." + +They both drank. After a pause the csikós began again. + +"Are you taking a wife with you this time?" + +"Where should I get a wife?" + +"I'll tell you. ---- take your own mother!" + +"She wouldn't give up being a Debreczin market-woman for the whole of +Moravia!" + +They both drank again. + +"Well, have you bidden your mother farewell?" asked the csikós. + +"I have bidden her farewell." + +"And squared all your accounts with the overseer?" + +"Certainly." + +"You owe _nobody_ anything?" + +"What extraordinary questions you do ask to be sure!" exclaimed the +cowboy. + +"No, I am not in debt, even to the priest. What does it matter to you?" + +The csikós shook his head, and broke the neck of another bottle. He +wished to fill his friend's glass, but the cowboy placed his hand over +it. + +"You won't drink my beer?" + +"I'm keeping to the rule. Wine on beer--never fear. Beer on wine--no +time." + +The csikós poured himself out the whole bottle, and then began to +moralise (the not unfrequent result of beer-drinking). + +"See, comrade," he said, "there is no uglier sin in the world than +lying. I once lied myself, though not in my own defence, and it has +oppressed my soul ever since. Lying does well enough for shepherds, but +not for lads on horseback. The first shepherd of all was a liar. Jacob, +the patriarch, lied when he deceived his own father, making his hands +rough like Esau's. So little wonder if his followers, who keep flocks, +should live by lies. It may suit a shepherd, but it is not for a +cowboy." + +The cowherd went into roars of laughter. + +"I say, Sándor, what a good parson you would make! You can preach as +well as the Whit-Sunday probationer at Balmaz Újváros." + +"Yes? Well, comrade, maybe you would not mind my turning out a good +preacher, but if I turned out a good lawyer, you might care more. So you +say you don't owe a crooked kreuzer to any human being?" + +"Not to any human soul." + +"Without lying?" + +"No need for it." + +"Then what is this? This long paper? Do you recognise it?" + +The csikós pulled out the bill from his pocket, and held it before his +companion's nose. + +The cowboy turned suddenly crimson with anger and shame. + +"How did that come into your hands?" he demanded angrily, and springing +from his seat. + +"Honestly enough. Sit down, comrade," said the csikós. "I am not asking +any questions, only preaching. The good man who got this bill instead of +money came to our place not long ago to buy horses. He paid with a bill +of exchange, and when I asked what it meant, explained, mentioned that +you knew the use of a bill, and then showed me your writing, complaining +bitterly that there was some omission, that it was only made payable on +the Hortobágy, and that the Hortobágy is a wide word. So now I have +brought you the bill for you to correct the mistake. Don't let a +horse-cooper say that a Hortobágy cowboy cheated him! Fill in the line, +'Payable on the Hortobágy, in the inn courtyard.'" + +The csikós spoke so mildly that he entirely misled his companion. He +began to think that after all nothing was called into question here but +the honour of csikós and cowboys. + +"All right, I will do as you wish," he said. + +They rapped on the table, and Klárika came out (she had been lurking +near the door). Great was her surprise when, instead of witnessing a +bloody encounter, she beheld the two young men conferring peaceably +together. + +"Fetch us pen and ink, Klári, dear," they said. + +So she brought writing materials from the town commissioner's room. Then +she looked on to see what would be done. + +The csikós showed the paper to the cowherd, pointing with his finger +where, and dictating what to write. + +"'Payable on the Hortobágy,' so much is written already, now add, 'in +the inn courtyard.'" + +"Why in the _courtyard_?" inquired the cowboy. + +"Because--because it can't be otherwise." + +Meanwhile the storm was nearing rapidly. A hot wind preceded the +tempest, covering earth and sky with yellowish clouds of dust. Birds of +prey hovered shrieking over the Hortobágy, while flocks of swallows and +sparrows hurried under the shelter of the eaves. A loud roar swept over +the puszta. + +"Won't you come indoors?" urged the girl. + +"No, no, we can't," answered the csikós, "our work is out here." + +When the cowherd had finished writing, then the csikós took the pen from +his hand, and turning over the bill, inscribed his name on the back, in +big roundhand characters. + +"Now, what is the sense of you writing your name there?" asked the +cowboy, inquisitively. + +"The use is, that when the pay-day comes round, then _I_ and _not you_ +will pay those ten florins." + +"Why should you, instead of me?" + +"Because it is _my debt_!" said the csikós, and clapped his cap to his +head. His eyes flashed. + +The cowboy paled all at once. Now he knew what awaited him. The girl had +learnt nothing from the scribbling nor from the discourse. She shook her +head. "They were very foolish," she thought, and the gilded ear-rings +tinkled in her ears. "'This,' and 'that,' and 'Yellow Rose,' they must +be talking about her!" + +But the csikós carefully folded the paper, and handed it to her. Very +gently he spoke, + +"Dear Klári," he said, "please be so very kind and put this safely away +in your drawer. Then should Mr. Pelikan, the horse-dealer, come in here +to dine on his way back from Onod fair, give it him. Tell him that we +sent it, we two old comrades, Ferko Lacza, and Sanyi Decsi, with our +best respects. One of us will meet it, which, time will show." + +The girl shrugged her shoulders. "Funny people! Not a thought of +quarrelling in their heads! Signing their names to the same paper." + +She collected the writing materials and carried them back to the +commissioner's room, at the end of the long pillared verandah. The two +lads were left alone together. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +The csikós quietly emptied his last bottle of beer. The cowboy poured +out the rest of his red wine into the glass. + +They clinked glasses. + +"Your health!" It was drained at a breath. + +Then the csikós began. Leaning on his elbows he remarked, + +"This is a fine large puszta, this Hortobágy, eh, comrade?" + +"Truly it is!" + +"I hardly think the desert could have been larger where Moses kept the +Jewish people wandering for forty years!" + +"You must know best, you are always poring over the Bible!" + +"Still, though the Hortobágy be so large, there is not room enough on it +for both you and me." + +"I say the same." + +"Then let us rid it of one of us!" + +With that they caught up their cudgels, two oak saplings from the Csát +forest, the club end heavily loaded. + +Each went to his horse. Cowboys do not fight on foot. When the girl +returned from the house, both were in the saddle. + +After that no word was spoken. Silently turning their backs on each +other, one went right, one left, as if flying before the approaching +storm. When there was about two hundred paces between them, they glanced +back simultaneously, and turned their horses. Then swinging their +cudgels, both lads put spurs in their horses, and rushed at each other. + +This is the duel of the puszta. + +It is not as easy as it looks. Fighting with swords on horseback is an +art, but the sword where it strikes inflicts a wound not easily +forgotten. He who wields the cudgel must aim his blow for the one +instant when his galloping steed meets his opponent's. There is no +parrying possible, no thrusting aside of the stroke. Who strikes truest +wins the day. + +The two herdsmen, meeting at the cudgel's length, struck at each other's +head, then dashed past on their horses. + +Sándor Decsi shook in the saddle, his head fell forward from the force +of the blow, but tossing it back directly, he straightened his crumpled +cap. Evidently his crown had only felt the handle of the cudgel. + +His stroke had been better aimed. The loaded end hit his adversary's +skull, who, turning sideways, tumbled out of the saddle, and fell face +downwards on the ground. The victor bringing up his horse, thereupon +promptly cudgelled his fallen foe from the crown of his head to the sole +of his foot, nor spared a square inch of him. For such is the custom. + +If gentlemen of higher rank would only adopt it, God knows how rare +duels would become! + +Having ended this business, the csikós picked up his opponent's cap on +the point of his stick, tore out the lining, and found beneath a +withered yellow rose. He threw it up in the air, giving it a knock which +sent the petals flying in a hundred pieces, and floating like +butterflies down the wind. + +"I told you beforehand, didn't I?" shouted the csikós from on horseback +to the girl, who had watched this decisive combat from the inn door. He +pointed to his mangled opponent. "There! Take him in and nurse him! You +may have him _now_!" A hissing thunderbolt fell before the mill close +by. Here was the storm. All round them the sky crashed and crackled. + +"You see," said the girl, "had he struck you instead, I would have +thrown my own body over you, and protected you from his blows! Then you +would have known how truly I loved you!" + +The csikós put spurs to his horse, and galloped off into the storm. +Sheets of rain and hail fell in torrents, thunder crashed with a +blinding flash. The girl gazed after the horseman till the storm hid him +from view. Once or twice when it lightened his figure shone visible +through the fiery rain, then she lost sight of it, till at last it +vanished utterly. + +Perhaps she never saw him again. + + + + +_Jarrold & Sons, Limited, The Empire Press, Norwich._ + + + + +MAURUS JÓKAI'S FAMOUS NOVELS + +_Crown 8vo, Red Cloth, Gilt, 2/6 each, net._ +With Photogravure Portrait of Dr. Jókai. +Uniform with "The Yellow Rose." + + +BLACK DIAMONDS. Ninth Edition. +With a Special Preface by Dr. Jókai. +Translated by Frances A. Gerard. + + +THE GREEN BOOK; or, Freedom +Under the Snow. Eighth Edition. +Translated by Mrs. Waugh. + + +PRETTY MICHAL. Fifth Edition. +Translated from the first Hungarian Edition by +R. Nisbet Bain. + + +THE DAY OF WRATH. Sixth Edition. +Translated from the Hungarian by +R. Nisbet Bain. + + + _London:_ +_Jarrold & Sons, 10 & 11, Warwick Lane, E.C._ + + + + + * * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's note: + +The advertisement for other works by Jókai was moved from the front of +the book to the back. + +The following typographical errors present in the original edition have +been corrected. + +In the advertisement, "nett" was changed to "net". + +In Chapter II, "he never said it was a bethrothal gift" was changed to +"he never said it was a betrothal gift", "Ferka Lacza took to the trick" +was changed to "Ferko Lacza took to the trick" and "two from Debreczen" +was changed to "two from Debreczin". (Debreczen is the correct 19th +century spelling, but the translator consistently uses Debreczin +elsewhere in the text.) + +In Chapter III, a single quote (') was changed to a double quote (") +after "Why should we take carts for them?", and "enough for the week, +that they would take to reach Miskolcz" was changed to "enough for the +week that they would take to reach Miskolcz". + +In Chapter IV, "No, no, Klarika" was changed to "No, no, Klárika". + +In Chapter VI, "when were you last in the taproom of the Horotobágy inn" +was changed to "when were you last in the taproom of the Hortobágy inn". + +In Chapter IX, "an Alfold road" was changed to "an Alföld road", "First +one, then another csikos" was changed to "First one, then another +csikós", "All five csikos sup together" was changed to "All five csikós +sup together", and "Sándor Decsi, let no one notice" was changed to +"Sándor Decsi let no one notice". + +In Chapter X, quotation marks were added after "I've been looking for it +ever since" and "But Ferko Lacza only laughs to himself". + +In Chapter XI, a single quote (') was changed to a double quote (") +before "I beg your honour's pardon!", and "came out) she had been +lurking near the door)" was changed to "came out (she had been lurking +near the door)". + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW ROSE*** + + +******* This file should be named 34911-8.txt or 34911-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/9/1/34911 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Yellow Rose</p> +<p>Author: Mór Jókai</p> +<p>Release Date: January 10, 2011 [eBook #34911]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW ROSE***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Steven desJardins<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="center bigtext"><i>THE YELLOW ROSE</i></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 360px;"> +<img src="images/jokai.png" width="360" height="516" alt="photograph of Mór Jókai" title="Budapest 1896 17 III Dr. Jókai Mór" /> +</div> + +<h1>THE YELLOW ROSE</h1> + +<p class="center bigtext"><i>A NOVEL</i></p> + +<p class="center">BY<br /> +<span class="bigtext">MAURUS JÓKAI</span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Author of "Black Diamonds," "The Green Book," +"Eyes like the Sea," "Pretty Michal," +"Doctor Dumany's Wife," etc.</i></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 129px;"> +<img src="images/logo.png" width="129" height="180" alt="publisher's logo" title="sans peur et sans reproche" /> +</div> + +<p class="center">LONDON<br /> +JARROLD & SONS, 10 & 11, WARWICK LANE, E.C.<br /> +[<i>All Rights Reserved</i>]</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/title.png" width="400" height="616" alt="image of title page" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center"><i>Translated by BEATRICE DANFORD +from the original Hungarian.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright:—<br /> +London: Jarrold & Sons.</span></p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table class="figcenter" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum smalltext"> </td> +<td class="chappage smalltext">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">CHAPTER I.</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">7</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">CHAPTER II.</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">13</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">CHAPTER III.</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">44</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">CHAPTER IV.</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">77</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">CHAPTER V.</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">94</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">CHAPTER VI.</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">97</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">CHAPTER VII.</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">107</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">CHAPTER VIII.</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">119</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">CHAPTER IX.</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">129</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">CHAPTER X.</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">147</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">CHAPTER XI.</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">165</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">CHAPTER XII.</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">181</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="THE_YELLOW_ROSE" id="THE_YELLOW_ROSE"></a>THE YELLOW ROSE</h2> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + + +<p>This happened when no train crossed the Hortobágy, when throughout the +Alföld there was not a railway, and the water of the Hortobágy had not +been regulated. The two-wheeled mill clattered gaily in the little +river, and the otter lived happily among the reeds.</p> + +<p>At the first streak of dawn, a horseman came riding across the flat Zám +puszta, which lies on the far side of the Hortobágy River (taking +Debreczin as the centre of the world). Whence did he come? Whither was +he going? Impossible to guess. The puszta has no pathway, grass grows +over hoof-print and cart track. Up to the endless horizon there is +nothing but grass, not a tree, a well pole, or a hut to break the +majestic green plain. The horse went its way instinctively.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> Its rider +dozing, nodded in the saddle, first on one side, then the other, but +never let slip his foot from the stirrup.</p> + +<p>He was evidently a cowherd, for his shirt sleeves were tight at the +wrists—wide sleeves would be in the way among horned beasts. His +waistcoat was blue, his jacket, with its rows of buttons, black, and so +was his cloak, worked in silken flowers, and hanging loosely strapped +over his shoulder. The slackly gathered reins were held in the left +hand, while from the right wrist dangled a thick stock whip. A long +loaded cudgel was fastened to the horn of the saddle in front. In the +wide upturned brim of his hat he wore a single yellow rose. Once or +twice the horse tossed its head, and shaking the fringed saddle cloth, +woke the rider for an instant. His first movement was to his cap, to +feel whether the rose was there, or if perchance it had dropped out. +Then removing the cap, he smelt the flower with keen enjoyment (although +it had no rose's scent), and replacing it well to one side, threw back +his head as if he hoped, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> that way, to catch sight of the rose. +Presently (and very probably to keep himself awake) he began humming his +favourite song:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"If only the inn were not so near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If only I did not find such cheer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In golden quart and copper gill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would not linger, my love, until<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It ever should grow so late."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But soon his head fell forward again, and he went on nodding, till all +at once, with a frightened start, he saw that the yellow rose was gone!</p> + +<p>Turning his horse he commenced searching for the flower amid that sea of +grass, and the yellow blossoms of cinquefoil, and stitchwort, and +water-lilies. At last he found it, stuck it in his hat, and continued +his song:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"An apple-tree stands in my garden small,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blossoms it bears they hide it all.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh there where the full carnation blows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a maiden's heart with a true love glows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the place where I would be."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And then he went to sleep again, lost the rose, and once more turned to +look for it. When found this time, nestling among<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> a cluster of pink +thistle-heads, he nearly kicked the plant to pieces. Because—because it +had dared to kiss his rose! Then he sprang back to the saddle. Now had +this cowboy been superstitious he would not have decorated his hat for +the third time with the yellow rose. Had he understood bird language, he +would have known what the hundreds of little larks were twittering as +they rose up out of sight, to greet the dawn. "Wear not—wear not your +yellow rose!" But this Hortobágy peasant was hard-headed; he knew +neither fear nor superstition.</p> + +<p>He had wasted a good deal of time, however, in seeking this rose—though +possibly more in winning it—for at the watering-hour he should have +reached the Zám herd. By this time the overseer must be cursing him +roundly. Well, let him curse! When one has a yellow rose in one's cap +one is not afraid of an overseer!</p> + +<p>The sudden neighing of his horse roused him. A horseman was approaching, +whose steed, a bay with a white star, was evidently an old friend of its +own. The rider was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> "csikós," or horseherd, as could be seen by his +wide flying sleeves, white cloak, tulip embroidered, the lasso thrown +around his shoulders, and best of all, by the way he had saddled his +bay—without a girth. The two herdsmen recognised one another, as well +as their horses, and quickening their trot drew close together. Both +men, though distinctly different, were of the true Hungarian type, such +as were the first Hungarians who wandered in from Asia. The cowherd was +broad-shouldered, thickset, and bony, his face roundish and his cheeks +red, while there was something of impudence in the chin, mouth, +eyebrows, and little waxed moustache. His chestnut hair was cropped +short, and his eyes hazel, though at first sight seeming almost green.</p> + +<p>The other, the csikós, was strong and square-chested, yet withal +slightly built. He had an oval face, burnt to a golden bronze, with +perfectly regular clear-cut features, eyes dark and shining, and a black +moustache that turned up of itself. Over his shoulders his jet black +hair fell in loose wavy ringlets.</p> + +<p>The two horses snorted in friendly fashion, and the csikós was the first +to hail his friend.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>"Good day, comrade! You are up early. But maybe you have not slept at +all?"</p> + +<p>"Thanks. That's true. There was someone to send me asleep and to wake me +up!"</p> + +<p>"And where are you from now?"</p> + +<p>"Only from the Mata puszta. I was at the vet's."</p> + +<p>"At the vet's? Better kill your horse at once."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Than let the doctor and his old nag overtake it. He went by in his gig +half an hour ago, jogging along towards the Mata herd."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, comrade! The shepherd's white donkey has often beaten your +little bay mare."</p> + +<p>"Hm'm. What a pretty yellow rose you have got in your cap, comrade!"</p> + +<p>"Who wins one can wear one."</p> + +<p>"And may he never repent it!"</p> + +<p>The csikós held up his fist with a threatening gesture, till the wide +sleeve slipping back disclosed a muscular sunburnt arm.</p> + +<p>Then both riders putting spurs to their horses went their several ways.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + + +<p>The cowboy trotted towards the herd, and soon the hills of Zám, the +little acacia wood, and the three tall well poles began to peep above +the horizon. But it is a good ride there! Presently he took the +tell-tale rose from his cap, folded it in his scarlet handkerchief, and +pushed it up the knotted sleeve of his coat.</p> + +<p>The horse-herd meanwhile spurred his horse in the opposite direction, +where a low lying line of bluish mist marked the course of the Hortobágy +river. He was on his way to the rose-bush where the yellow roses grew.</p> + +<p>For on the whole Hortobágy there was but one yellow rose, and that +bloomed in the innkeeper's garden.</p> + +<p>Some foreigner had brought it from Belgium, they said; and its +wonderful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> yellow flowers blossomed the whole summer through, from +Whitsuntide to Advent, when there were still buds on the branches; +yellow as pure gold they were, though their scent was more like muscatel +wine than roses. Many a man had felt that scent rise to his head! And +the girl who used to gather these roses, though not for herself, they +called "The Yellow Rose" also.</p> + +<p>It was quite a mystery where the old innkeeper had picked up this +maiden, for wife he had none. Some stranger had evidently forgotten her +there, and the old man had kept her till she grew into a delicate, +slender flower. Her cheeks were not rosy like those of other girls, but +a clear, creamy colour, not the tint of sickness, for the life glowed +beneath, and, when she smiled, seemed to dazzle and shine like a fire +within. Her mouth, with its turned-up corners, was made for laughter, +and suited the darkness of her eyes, eyes so dark that none could tell +whether they were black or blue, because if once a man looked into them +he forgot all else in the world. Her hair was black, twisted into a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +plait, with yellow ribbon. Other girls damp their hair with quince juice +to make it curly, but hers waved and curled of itself.</p> + +<p>And the songs she knew! How sweetly she could sing when she liked! If +happy she sang, if sad she sang, for there is a song for everything, +and, without singing, a peasant maiden cannot live. Nothing makes the +work so easy, the time pass so quickly, and the way so short. Early in +the morning, when the sky was pink at sunrise, she might be heard +singing as she weeded in the garden.</p> + +<p>The old innkeeper did not concern himself with business, but had given +the whole management of the inn into the girl's hands. She served out +the wine, cooked, did the accounts. He meanwhile looked after his +beehives, and was busy now, for the bees were swarming.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a horse's hoofs resounded from the yard, the dogs barked in the +joyous tone with which they were wont to greet an old friend, and the +old man called out:</p> + +<p>"Klári! go in! Don't you hear the dogs barking; a customer must be here. +See to him!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>The girl dropped her striped gown, tucked up for weeding, put on her +buckled shoes, washed her hands from the watering can, and dried them +with her apron, which she then threw aside, for, under it, she wore +another very wide and clean, and with the household keys dangling from +her waistband. She untied her gay-coloured kerchief, and smoothed her +hair with her moistened palms. Then she broke off a rose from the +rose-bush, and stuck it in her hair at one side.</p> + +<p>"Picking a rose again!" grumbled the old man. "Maybe only for a +gendarme!"</p> + +<p>"Why only? Why mayn't a gendarme wear a rose in his shako as well as +another fellow? Perhaps you don't think him good enough? That depends on +the gendarme."</p> + +<p>But after all it was no gendarme whom the girl found sitting at one end +of the long table, but the smartest csikós on the whole puszta—Sándor +Decsi.</p> + +<p>"Sándor!" screamed the girl when she saw him, and clapping her hands, +"Sándor! you have come back, my darling."</p> + +<p>He was standing there, drumming on the table with the empty glasses, and +only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> looked up to call out in a most sullen fashion, "Bring wine."</p> + +<p>"Sándor!" cried the girl.</p> + +<p>But the lad only growled, "I told you to bring wine," and let his head +fall back on his hands.</p> + +<p>"That is a nice 'good morning' after such a long absence!" exclaimed the +girl, at which the herdsman came somewhat to his senses, for he knew how +to be polite. Removing his cap and laying it on the table, "Good +morning, miss," he said.</p> + +<p>"Whew!" The girl pointed the rosy tip of her tongue at him, and +shrugging her shoulders angrily, stamped off to the bar, shaking her +shoes as she went. When she had brought the wine, however, she asked in +an unaltered voice:</p> + +<p>"Why do you call me 'miss'?"</p> + +<p>"Because . . . . you are 'miss.'"</p> + +<p>"I always was, but you never used to say so."</p> + +<p>"That was another time, it was different then."</p> + +<p>"Well, here is the wine anyway. Do you want anything else?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>"Thank you," said the man, "not now. Later perhaps."</p> + +<p>The girl responded by a clicking noise with her tongue, and then sat +down near him, at the end of the long bench.</p> + +<p>The csikós raised the bottle to his lips, drained it dry, and flung it +on the floor, where it smashed into a thousand fragments.</p> + +<p>"Why have you broken the bottle?" she asked softly.</p> + +<p>"That no one else may drink out of it." Next he tossed three ten kreuzer +notes on the table—"dog tongues" the country people call them—two +being for the red wine, one for the bottle. The girl meanwhile had +seized a broom, and was diligently sweeping up the broken glass. Then, +knowing the rule, she dived behind the wooden lattice railing off the +bar, and brought out a fresh bottle. How she longed to look in his eyes! +But he, evidently guessing it, pulled his hat lower over his face than +before. Finally, she did manage to get possession of his cap, and then +tried to transfer the yellow rose in her hair to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> the silk ribbon +decorating its brim. But the herdsman saw, and snatched it out of her +hands.</p> + +<p>"Keep your roses for some worthier person," he said shortly.</p> + +<p>"Sándor," began the girl at last, "do you wish to make me cry?"</p> + +<p>"That would be false, as your words are false. Did not Ferko Lacza leave +you this morning with one of your roses in his cap?"</p> + +<p>She did not turn red at this, only so much the paler.</p> + +<p>"God knows I——"</p> + +<p>But a hand laid across her mouth stopped all further speech.</p> + +<p>"Do not take God's name in vain!" cried the herdsman; "and how did those +golden ear-rings get into your ears, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>"You donkey!" Klári laughed outright. "You gave them to me yourself, +only I had them gilded by the jeweller in Újváros."</p> + +<p>Then the csikós caught hold of both her hands, and spoke his mind slowly +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> earnestly. "Dearest Klári," he said, "I won't call you 'miss' any +more—I beg you from the bottom of my heart not to lie to me. Nothing is +so detestable as lying. They say, 'lying dog,' though dogs never lie; +for a dog has a different bark when he smells a thief round the farm, or +scents danger, or hears his master coming, and his bark never misleads. +A dog is honest enough, it is men who know how to lie, and theirs is the +true yelping. As for me, it never came into my mind to lie, my tongue is +not fashioned that way. Lying ill-suits a moustache, and it's a bad +business when bearded lips speak lying words like a coward who fears a +beating. Now, see, when the conscription was here last autumn, they +summoned us all from the puszta. But the townspeople wanted to keep us, +for, without herdsmen the cattle and horses would fare badly. So, first +they took care to cross the palms of the committee with silver, and then +the doctors whispered to us what sort of bodily defect we could feign, +so as to be discharged as unfit. Ferko Lacza took to the trick! He swore +he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> was as deaf as a door-post, could not hear a trumpet even; he, who +has such good ears that if a beast lows in the blackest midnight, he can +tell whether it is a stray one wandered in among the herd or a cow +calling her lost calf. My eyes nearly fell out of my head! Eh, he knew +how to lie, the scoundrel! When my turn came to be inspected they made +out that my heart beat irregularly. 'Well, if it beats irregularly,' +said I, 'it is not my heart that's in fault, but the Yellow Rose yonder, +at the Hortobágy inn.' The gentlemen all nudged me to trust to the +doctor, who said I had enlargement of the heart! 'Why, it's just big +enough to hold one little bit of a girl, and nothing else. There is +nothing in the world the matter with me!' So they took me for a soldier, +but respected me. They never even cut my hair, but sent me to be +'soldier csikós' to the military stud at Mezöhegyes. And before half a +year was over the Town Council put down the thousand florins ransom to +buy me off, and send me back to the horses again. But I will work out +those thousand florins with my two hands,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> though not with a lying +tongue—that is another matter!"</p> + +<p>The girl attempted to get her hands free, and to turn off the affair as +a joke.</p> + +<p>"My word, Sándor, did you learn to preach when you were eating the +Emperor's bread? Really, you're so eloquent you ought to go as +probationer every Sunday to Balmaz-Újváros!"</p> + +<p>"Now, now, do not jest," said the man. "I know what is in your little +head. You are thinking that maids are but a feeble folk, and have no +other weapon but lying, otherwise they would be overmatched. The swift +feet for the hare, the wings for the bird, and for the girl—her lying +lips! But, sweetheart, I am a man who has never hurt the weaker. The +hare can bide in the cover, and the bird on her nest for me, I would +never disturb them. Neither would I harm the girl who speaks the truth +with as much as a hard word or look. But if you lie to me, why, then I +must judge you as hardly as if those pretty cheeks of yours were smeared +with Vienna rouge! Look at the rose in your hand, it has hardly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> opened, +but if I blow on it with my hot breath, one after another all the petals +will unfold. Be such a rose, then, my darling, and open your heart and +your soul to me. I will not be angry whatever you confess, and I will +forgive you, even if it breaks my heart."</p> + +<p>"And then what will you give me?"</p> + +<p>"As much of it as you have left me," said the man.</p> + +<p>The girl, knowing the herdsmen's custom of eating bacon, paprika (the +red pepper), and white bread with their morning wine, rose, and set this +before him, and was glad to see it was not scorned. Indeed, the csikós, +drawing out his long knife with its inlaid handle from his top boot, cut +off a slice of bread and bacon, and fell to work heartily.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, through the open door appeared the watch-dog, wagging his +tail, and going to the herdsman, he rubbed his nose against his legs, +and then lay down near him, yawning with great affability.</p> + +<p>"Even Bodri knows you," said the girl.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dogs are faithful. It is only girls who forget."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>"Sándor, Sándor," she cried. "What a pity it was you could not tell that +one little lie when it was so needful! Then they would not have taken +you as a soldier to Mezöhegyes. It is not wise to leave a girl to +herself. It is not wise to let a lilac-bush in blossom overhang the +paling, because then every passer-by who chooses can break off a piece!"</p> + +<p>At these words the very morsel of bread fell from the herdsman's mouth, +and he cast it to the dog.</p> + +<p>"Is this truth that you are saying?"</p> + +<p>"Truth? Don't you know the song about 'When the girl's out in the storm, +under his cloak the boy keeps her warm'?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and how it goes on too. 'The maid keeps near to the lad in the +showers, his cloak being worked with silken flowers.' Get away, dog! +Even you only wag your tail when there is a question of bacon!"</p> + +<p>Just then the horse in the yard outside began to neigh, and the girl +went out, reappearing in a few minutes.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been?" asked the man.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>"Tying up your horse in the stable."</p> + +<p>"Who bid you tie him up?"</p> + +<p>"I always did so till now."</p> + +<p>"Now it is different; I am off directly!"</p> + +<p>"What? You won't take a bite? Isn't bread and bacon good enough? Maybe +you got better from the Emperor? But stop, I can bring you something +nicer."</p> + +<p>She went to the cupboard in the wall and brought out a plate of fried +fowl, or "Back Hendli"—for fowl fried in bread-crumbs, and then left +cold, was a favourite tit-bit of the herdsman's.</p> + +<p>"Whose remains are these?" he demanded suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"Well, first think a little! All sorts of people come to an inn, and +anyone who pays can have 'Back Hendli.'"</p> + +<p>"Then you had grand folks here last night?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said the girl. "Two gentlemen from Vienna, and two from +Debreczin. They stayed up till two o'clock and then went on. If you +don't believe me, I can show you their names in the guest book."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I believe you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>The great tabby Tom, who had been washing his face by the stove, rose at +this moment, stretched himself, arched his back, jumped down, and going +to the csikós, measured his claws on his boots, showing how high the +snow would lie next winter.</p> + +<p>Then he sprang into his friend's arms, rubbing and pushing his head +against his hand, and slowly licking every one of the five fingers. At +last he lay down and began purring.</p> + +<p>"Look how the cat is trying to coax you," said Klári.</p> + +<p>"I am not going to ask him whose arms he purred in yesterday. How much +do I pay for the 'Back Hendli'?"</p> + +<p>"<i>You!</i> Nothing, of course, somebody else did that. But where are you +off to in such a terrible hurry?"</p> + +<p>"To the vet, on the Mata puszta—I am taking him a letter."</p> + +<p>"You won't find him at home, for he passed here at three this morning, +looking for those gentlemen. When he heard they had gone, he went +jogging on in his gig<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> to the Zám puszta. One gentleman was the steward +of a Moravian Count, who wants to buy some of our cattle to breed on his +estate; the other German was an artist. He drew me in his little book, +and the cowherd also."</p> + +<p>"So the cowherd was here also?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he was here, since he was sent to show the gentlemen across +the puszta to the Zám Herd."</p> + +<p>"Only it seems funny to me," remarked the csikós, "that the cowboy left +an hour later than the gentlemen he was meant to guide."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! You can cross-examine like the district judge! Well, he came +to bid me good-bye. He is going far away, and we will never see him any +more."</p> + +<p>As if to prove the truth of her words, a real shining tear dropped from +the girl's eyes, though she tried her best to hide it. Not that the +csikós minded that, for it was an honest tear, at any rate, and he +preferred to turn his head aside when she dried her eyes with her apron. +Then he stuck his short clay pipe in his mouth. A pipe in the mouth +signifies no kisses.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>"And what takes the cowboy so far away?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"He is going to Moravia as head herdsman to the cattle which they are +buying at Zám. He is to get a stone house, so much corn, and six hundred +florins as wages. He'll be quite the gentleman! And they will respect +him there, because only a Hungarian herdsman can manage a Hungarian +herd."</p> + +<p>"And you? Aren't you going to Moravia as head herdsman's wife?"</p> + +<p>"You rascal!" said the girl. "You know I'm not. You know, quite well, I +love no one but you. I might if I weren't chained fast to you and to +this puszta. Why, I am your slave."</p> + +<p>"Not exactly," said the man. "You know it is not like that; but whoever +you have bewitched with those eyes of yours must come back from the ends +of the earth to you. You give him a charm to drink that compels him to +think of you. Or you sew one of your hairs in his shirt sleeve, that you +may draw him back, even from beyond the stars. It's just the same with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +me! Since I looked into your eyes I have been made a fool of."</p> + +<p>"And have I not been fool enough?" she asked. "Haven't I often wondered +what would become of me! Whom did I ask to melt lead with me on +Christmas Eve? Whose kerchief did I wear, though he never said it was a +betrothal gift? Did I ever go spying after you when you danced with +other girls and giddy young wives at Újváros Fair?"</p> + +<p>"If only you had not put the rose in his cap!"</p> + +<p>"Well, give me yours, and here is a match to it, which is easily stuck +in!"</p> + +<p>"No," said the lad. "I want <i>that</i> rose which you gave to the cowherd, +and I will never rest till I have it in my hands."</p> + +<p>At that the girl clasped her hands imploringly.</p> + +<p>"Sándor! Sándor! Don't talk like that. You two must not fight about +me—<i>about a yellow rose</i>!"</p> + +<p>"It must be. Either he kills me, or I him, but one of us must fall."</p> + +<p>"And that is what <i>you</i> call telling the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> truth!" cried the girl. "You +who have just promised not to be angry with me any more?"</p> + +<p>"With you, yes. A girl can't help forgetting, but a man should bear in +mind."</p> + +<p>"God knows, I never forgot you."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not; like in the song:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0qa">"'Whome'er within my arms I pressed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet in my heart I loved thee best.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"No, dearest, I am not a hard man, and I did not come to quarrel with +you, but only to show you that I am alive, and not dead, though I know +how happy you would be if I were."</p> + +<p>"Sándor! Then you want me to go and buy matches?"</p> + +<p>"Matches, is it?" said the man. "That's the way with you girls. If you +fall into the ditch, then it's three boxes of matches from the Jew, a +cup of hot coffee, and it is all over. But surely the wiser plan would +be to avoid the ditches altogether!"</p> + +<p>"Don't speak about it. Do you remember," the girl asked, "how, when +first we met, we were playing that game, 'I fell into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> the well. Who +pulled you out? Sándor Decsi!' And you did pull me out!"</p> + +<p>"But if I had thought it was for someone else . . . !"</p> + +<p>"Heigho!" sighed the herdsman, "that was long ago. Before ever the +Dorozsma Mill was sung about."</p> + +<p>"Is that something new?" The girl stooped over the bench closer to the +lad. "Sing it first, and then I will learn it."</p> + +<p>So Sándor Decsi set his back against the wall, put one hand to his cap +and the other on the table and commenced the tune, the sad air suiting +the sadness of its words:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"Dorozsma's mill, Dorozsma's mill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind has dropped, 'tis standing still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! faithless thou hast flown, my dove!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another claims thy life, thy love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the reason, if you will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why turns no more Dorozsma's mill."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Such a song it was as is born on the plains and blown hither and thither +like the thistledown scattered by the wind. The girl tried the air after +him, and where she failed the csikós helped her, and so it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> went on till +they both knew it, and sang it together perfectly. And then, at the +finish, they kissed each other. This was the end of the song.</p> + +<p>But hardly had Klári sung the last note before Sándor Decsi had stuck +the short clay pipe in his mouth again.</p> + +<p>"There you go, putting that horrid pipe in your mouth!" she exclaimed +sulkily.</p> + +<p>"Well, it matches me, I'm horrid too," said the lad.</p> + +<p>"You are, just a horrid rascal! A lad like you is good for nothing else +but to be turned into a distaff, and stuck up behind the door!"</p> + +<p>So saying she gave him a shove with her elbow.</p> + +<p>"Now what are you coming round me for?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I coming round you? Do I want you! If lads like you were sold by the +dozen, never a one would I buy. I was blind and cracked for sure to have +loved you? Why, I could have ten such lads as you for every one of my +ten fingers!"</p> + +<p>She stormed in so genuine a manner that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> at last even Bodri was +deceived, and believing that his mistress was offended with this horrid +man, jumped up and began growling at him. It made the girl laugh +heartily, but the csikós neither caught her merriment nor saw any cause +for laughter. He just sat there, moody and silent, holding his pipe +between his teeth. The pipe was not alight, for indeed it was empty. +Then the girl tried teasing him.</p> + +<p>"Well, dear! You are quite aware of your own good looks!" she said, "You +wouldn't laugh for the world, would you? Why it would squeeze up your +two black eyes, and make your two red lips quite crooked, and all your +beauty would be spoiled!"</p> + +<p>"Debreczin town does not pay me for being beautiful."</p> + +<p>"But I do. Wasn't my payment big enough for you?"</p> + +<p>"It was. There was even enough for another person left over."</p> + +<p>"Are you beginning again? All about that one yellow rose? Are you so +jealous of your comrade then, your own close com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>panion? How could he +help himself, poor fellow? If a gallant of the town feels his heart +aching for a rose, why he has the whole flower garden to choose from, +full of all sorts and shades of roses—red, pink, yellow, and cream! But +how does the song go?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0qa">"'Only the peasant maid can still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The peasant's heart in good and ill!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"So you take his part?"</p> + +<p>"Well, whose fault is it? The girl's who sings, 'An' he knew he could, +An' he knew it still he would,' or the man's who listens and +understands?"</p> + +<p>"Do you take the blame then?"</p> + +<p>"You said you would forgive me everything."</p> + +<p>"I will keep my word."</p> + +<p>"And love me again?"</p> + +<p>"Later."</p> + +<p>"Ah! it's a big word that 'later,'" said the girl.</p> + +<p>"I love you now."</p> + +<p>"As you have shown me."</p> + +<p>The csikós rose from the table, stuck the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> short pipe into the wide brim +of his hat, and going to the girl, put his arms round her, gazing, as he +spoke, into her large dark eyes.</p> + +<p>"My darling, you know there are two kinds of fever—the hot and the +cold. The hot is more violent, but the cold lasts longer; the one passes +quickly, the other returns again and again. But I will just speak +plainly, and not mince matters. Mine was the fault, for if I had not +breathed on my yellow rosebud, it would not have opened, and others +would not have found out the sweet scent which has brought all the wasps +and moths. I do love you indeed, but differently now, with the constancy +of the cold sort of fever. I will deal as truly by you as thine own +mother, and as soon as I am made head herdsman we will go to the priest +and live faithfully together ever afterwards. But if I find anyone else +fluttering around, then God help me, for were he my father's own son, I +will crack his head for him. Here's my hand on it." He stretched out his +hand to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> girl, and she, in answer, pulled out her golden ear-rings, +placing them in his open palm.</p> + +<p>"But, dearest, wear them," he insisted, "if as you say they are my +silver ones gilded, and I must believe you!"</p> + +<p>So she put them back in her ears, and in so doing she put something back +in her heart that had lain hidden there till now. Somehow this sort of +love, likened to the shivering stage of fever, was not altogether to her +taste. She understood the burning fit better.</p> + +<p>Next the girl, after reflecting, slipped the cloak from the herdsman's +neck and hung it up behind the lattice of the bar, as she was accustomed +to take the coats of customers in pledge, who could not pay their +reckoning.</p> + +<p>"Don't hurry," she said, "there is time. The Vet can't possibly be back +at the Mata Farm before noon, because he must examine all the cattle +that are sold, and write a certificate for each. You will only find his +old housekeeper, and here you are safe and dry. Neither the storm can +drench you,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> nor your sweetheart's tears. Look how glad your last words +have made me! They will be in my head all day long."</p> + +<p>"And see how far away I thought of those last words, since I have +brought you a present. It is in my cloak sleeve yonder, go and fetch it +out."</p> + +<p>Many things were in that sleeve—steel, flint, and tinder, tobacco +pouch, money bag, and among it all the girl discovered a new packet, +done up in silver paper. When it was unfolded, and she beheld a comb of +yellow tortoise-shell, her face beamed with happiness.</p> + +<p>"This is for <i>me</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Whom <i>else</i>?"</p> + +<p>Now when a peasant maid twists her plait of hair round a comb, it means +she is betrothed, has a lover of her own, and is "ours" no longer. Nor +can she any more sing the song about "I know not whose darling am I."</p> + +<p>Standing before the mirror, Klári "did up" her hair in a knot round the +comb, and then she looked prettier than ever.</p> + +<p>"Now you shall kiss me," she said. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> offered the kiss herself in +fact, stretching out her arms, but the man held her back.</p> + +<p>"Not yet," he said, "I will be hot presently, but I am still shivering."</p> + +<p>It was a rebuff, and the girl drew her brows together, for she felt +shamed, and besides something burned in her heart. However, she only +tried harder to be loving and gentle, love and anger meanwhile striving +madly together in her heart—anger just because of the love.</p> + +<p>"Shall I sing your favourite song," she asked, "while the fish is +roasting?"</p> + +<p>"If you like."</p> + +<p>She went to the fireplace, took a fish out of a big barrel full of the +Hortobágy fish, called "Kárász," slashed it with a kitchen knife on both +sides, sprinkled it well with salt and pepper, and sticking a skewer +through it, placed it beside the red hot embers. Then she sang in her +sweet, clear voice:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"Ho! good dame of the Puszta Inn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bake me fish, bring lemon and wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set your wench on the watch without,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bid her tell what she sees in time."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>The song has a fascination of its own, bringing visions of the endless +puszta with the mirage overhanging its horizon, and echoes, too, of the +lone shepherd's pipe, and the sad sounding horn of the herdsman. +Besides, is not the whole romance of the "betyárs'," the puszta +robbers', life contained in the words:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"Set your wench on the watch without,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bid her tell what she sees in time"?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>As soon as the fish was browned enough, the girl brought it to the +csikós. Never is this dish eaten otherwise than by holding the end of +the spit in the fingers, and picking off the fish with a pocket knife. +It tastes best like that, and a girl cannot show her love for her +sweetheart more distinctly than by roasting him a fish on the spit. Then +what a delight it is to watch him enjoying the work of her hands!</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Klári went on singing:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0qa">"'Nine gendarmes and their weapons flash!'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cries the girl in her frightened haste;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the betyár gallops his swift bay steed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the mirage plays o'er the boundless waste."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>Once, when they sang this together, at the line "gallops his swift bay +steed," the herdsman would throw up his cap to the rafters, and bring +down his fist with a crash on the table.</p> + +<p>But now he did not heed it.</p> + +<p>"Don't you care for the song nowadays?" asked the girl. "Even that +doesn't please you?"</p> + +<p>"Why should it? I'm no 'betyár,' and have nothing to do with thieves. +Gendarmes are honest men, and do their duty. As for a good-for-nothing +'betyár,' he sets a girl to watch outside, and as soon as he sees so +much as the tip of a gendarme's helmet, he is off and away, 'O'er the +boundless waste,' leaving fish and wine and all behind him. And he +shouts it out in his own praise too! The cowardly thief!"</p> + +<p>"Well, you <i>have</i> changed since you ate the Emperor's bread!"</p> + +<p>"I've not changed, but the times. You can turn a coat inside out if you +like. After all it is only a coat. A bunda—fur-lined cloak—is always a +bunda."</p> + +<p>"And do you know," said the girl, "the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> greatest insult a man can pay +his sweetheart is to quote a worn-out old saw like that——"</p> + +<p>"But if I know none better! Perhaps the gentlemen from Moravia, who were +here last night, had newer jokes to amuse you with?"</p> + +<p>"Better jokes!" said the girl. "Anyway they didn't sit here looking like +stuck pigs. The painter especially was a very proper young fellow. If he +had only been a hair's breadth taller! As it was he just came up to my +chin!"</p> + +<p>"Did you measure yourselves then?"</p> + +<p>"Rather! Why I taught him to dance csárdás, and he jumped about like a +two months old kid on the barn floor!"</p> + +<p>"And the cowherd?" asked the man, "did he see you dancing with the +German artist, and yet not wring his neck?"</p> + +<p>"Wring his neck! Why they drank eternal friendship together!"</p> + +<p>"Well, it is not my business. Get me some more wine, but better stuff +than this vinegar. I shall have to come out with another old saying, +'The fish is unhappy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> in the third water,' for the third water should be +wine."</p> + +<p>"That's a double insult to call my wine—water."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said the herdsman, "just get me a sealed bottle!"</p> + +<p>Now it was the undoing of Sándor Decsi that he asked for a sealed +bottle, one brought from the town, sealed with green wax, with a pink or +blue label pasted on one side, covered with golden letters. Such wine is +only fit for gentlefolk, or perhaps for people in the Emperor's pay!</p> + +<p>Klári's heart beat loud and fast as she went into the cellar to fetch a +bottle of this gentlefolk's wine.</p> + +<p>For, suddenly, the girl remembered about a gipsy woman, who had once +told her fortune for some old clothes, and, out of pure gratitude, had +said this to her as well, "Should your lover's heart grow cold, my dear, +and you wish to make it flame again, that is easily managed, give him +wine mixed with lemon juice, and drop a bit of this root called 'fat +mannikin' into it. Then his love will blaze up again, till he would +break down walls to reach you!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>It flashed across the girl's mind that now was the very moment to test +the charm, and the roots, stumpy and black, like little round-headed, +fat-legged mannikins, were lying safe in a drawer of her chest. In the +olden days much was believed of this magic plant, how it shrieked when +pulled from the ground, and that those who heard it died. How, at last, +they took dogs to uproot it, tying them to it by the tail! How Circe +bewitched Ulysses and his comrades with it. The chemist, who has another +use for it, calls it "atropa mandragora." But how could the girl know +that it was poisonous?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + + +<p>Early, ere the dawn, the strangers at the Hortobágy inn started on their +way.</p> + +<p>This inn, though only a "csárda," or wayside house of call, was no +owl-haunted, tumble-down, reed-thatched place, such as the painter had +imagined, but a respectable brick building, with a shingle roof, +comfortable rooms, and a capital kitchen and cellar quite worthy of any +town. Below the flower garden, the Hortobágy river wound silently along, +between banks fringed with reeds and willows. Not far from the inn, the +high road crossed it on a substantial stone bridge of nine arches. +Debreczin folk maintain that the solidity of this bridge is due to the +masons having used milk to slake their lime; jealous people say that +they employed wine made from Hortobágy grapes, and that this drew it +together.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>The object of the early start was æsthetic as well as practical. The +painter looked forward to seeing a sunrise on the puszta, a sight which +no one, who has not viewed it with his own eyes, can form the slightest +idea of. The practical reason was that the cattle to be sold could only +be separated from the herd in the early morning. In spring, most of them +have little calves, and at dawn, when these are not sucking, the +herdsmen going in among the herd, catch those whose mothers have been +selected and take them away. The mothers then follow of their own +accord. A stranger would be gored to death by these wild creatures, who +have never seen anyone but their own drovers, but to them they are quite +accustomed.</p> + +<p>So the strangers set off for those wild parts of the plain, where even +the puszta dwellers need a guide, in a couple of light carriages. The +two coachmen, however, knew the district, and needed no pilot. They +therefore left the cowboy, who had been sent as guide, to amuse himself +at the inn, he promising to overtake them before they reached the herd.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>The artist was a famous landscape painter from Vienna, who often came to +Hungary for the sake of his work, and who spoke the tongue of the +people. The other Viennese was manager of the stables to the Moravian +landowner, Count Engelshort. It would, perhaps, have been wiser to have +sent some farmer who knew about cattle, for a lover of horses has little +mind left for anything else. But he had this advantage over the rest of +the staff, that he knew Hungarian, for when a lieutenant of Dragoons he +had long been stationed in Hungary, where the fair ladies had taught him +to speak it. Two of the Count's drovers had been told off to escort +him—strong, sturdy fellows, each armed with a revolver. As for the +gentlemen from Debreczin, one was the chief constable, the other the +worthy citizen from whose herd the twenty-four stock cows and their bull +were to be selected.</p> + +<p>Now, at the time of starting, the waning moon and the brightest of the +stars were still visible, while over in the east dawn was already +breaking.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>The townsman, a typical Magyar, explained to the painter how the star +above them was called "the wanderer's lamp," and how the "poor lads," or +"betyárs," looking up at it, would sigh, "God help us," and so escape +detection when stealing cattle. This quite enchanted the painter.</p> + +<p>"What a Shakespearian idea," he said.</p> + +<p>He grew more and more impressed with the endless vision of puszta, when, +an hour later, their galloping steeds brought them where nothing could +be seen save sky above and grass below, where there was not a bird or +frog-eating stork to relieve the marvellous monotony.</p> + +<p>"What tones! What tints! What harmony in the contrasts!"</p> + +<p>"It's all well enough," said the farmer, "till the mosquitoes and the +horse-flies come."</p> + +<p>"And that fresh, velvety turf, against those dark pools!"</p> + +<p>"Those puddles there? 'Tocsogo' as we call them."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, high above, sounded the sweet song of the lark.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>"Ah, those larks; how wonderful, how splendid!"</p> + +<p>"They're thin enough now, but wait till the wheat ripens," replied the +farmer.</p> + +<p>Slowly the light grew, the purple of the sky melted into gold; the +morning star, herald of the sun, already twinkled above the now visible +horizon, and a rainbow-like iridescence played over the dewy grass, +keeping pace with the movements of the dark figures. The horses, four to +each carriage, flew over the pathless green meadow-land, till, +presently, something began to show dark on the horizon—a plantation, +the first acacias on the hitherto treeless puszta, and some bluish +knolls.</p> + +<p>"Those are the Tartar hills of Zám," explained the Debreczin farmer to +his companions. "There stood some village destroyed by the Tartars. The +ruins of the church still peep out of the grass, and the dogs, when they +dig holes, scrape out human bones."</p> + +<p>"And there, what sort of a Golgotha is that?"</p> + +<p>"That," said the farmer, "is no Golgotha,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> but the three poles of the +cattle wells. We are close to the herd."</p> + +<p>They halted at the acacias, and there agreed to await the doctor who was +to come jogging along from the Mata puszta, in his one-horse trap. +Meanwhile the painter made notes in his sketch-book, falling from +ecstasy to ecstasy. "What subjects! What motives!" In vain his +companions urged him to draw a fine solitary acacia, rather than a group +of nasty old thistles! At last appeared the doctor and his gig, coming +up from a slanting direction, but he did not stop, only shouted "Good +morning" from the box, and then, "Hurry, hurry! before the daylight +comes!" So after a long enough drive they reached "the great herd." This +is the pride of the Hortobágy puszta—one thousand five hundred cattle +all in one mass. Now all lay silent, but whether sleeping or not, who +could tell? No one has ever seen cattle with closed eyes and heads +resting on the ground, and to them Hamlet's soliloquy, "To sleep, +perchance to dream," in no wise applies.</p> + +<p>"What a picture!" cried the painter,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> enchanted. "A forest of uplifted +horns, and there in the middle the old bull himself with his sooty head +and his wrinkled neck. The jet black litter surrounded by green pasture, +the grey mist in the background, and, far away, the light of a +shepherd's fire! This must be perpetuated!"</p> + +<p>Thereupon he sprang from the carriage, saying, "Please follow the +others. I see the shelter, and will meet you there." So, taking his +paint-box and camp-stool, and laying his sketch-book on his knees, he +began rapidly jotting down the scene, while the carriage with the farmer +drove on.</p> + +<p>All at once, the two watch dogs of the herd, observing this strange +figure on the puszta, rushed towards him, barking loudly. It was, +however, not the painter's way to be frightened. The dogs, moreover, +with their white coats and black noses, fell into the scheme of colour. +Nor did they attack the man, peacefully squatting there, but when quite +close to him, stood still. "What could he be?" Sitting down, they poked +out their heads inquisitively at the sketch-book. "What was this?" The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +painter pursued the joke, for he daubed the cheek of the one with green, +and the other with pink; and these attentions they seemed to find +flattering, but when they by-and-by saw each other's pink or green face, +they fancied it was that of a strange dog, and took to fighting.</p> + +<p>Luckily the "taligás," or wheel-barrow boy, came up at that moment. The +taligás is the youngest boy on the place, and his duty is to follow the +cattle with his wheel-barrow, and scrape up the "poor man's peat" which +they leave on the meadow. This serves as fuel on the puszta, and its +smoke is alike grateful to the nose of man and beast.</p> + +<p>The taligás rushed his barrow between the fighting dogs, separated and +pursued them, shouting, "Get away there!" For the puszta watch-dog does +not fear the stick, but of the wheel-barrow he is in terror.</p> + +<p>The taligás was a very smart little lad, in his blue shirt and linen +breeches worked with scarlet. He delivered the message entrusted to him +by the gentlemen, very clearly. It was "that the painter should join +them at the shelter, where there was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> much to sketch." But the striking +picture of the herd was not yet completed.</p> + +<p>"Can you run me along in your barrow?" asked the painter, "for this +silver piece?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir!" said the lad, "I've wheeled a much heavier calf than you! +Please step in, sir."</p> + +<p>So utilising this clever idea, the painter gained both his ends. He got +to the "karám," seated in the barrow, and managed to finish his +characteristic sketch by the way.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the others had left their carriages, and were introducing the +Vienna cattle buyer to the herdsman in charge. This man was an +exceptionally fine example of the Hungarian puszta-dweller. A tall, +strong fellow, with hair beginning to turn grey, and a curled and waxed +moustache. His face was bronzed from exposure to hard weather, and his +eyebrows drawn together from constant gazing into the sun.</p> + +<p>By "Karám" is understood on the puszta that whole arrangement which +serves as shelter against wind and storm for both man and beast. Wind is +the great enemy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> Rain, heat, and cold the herdsman ignores. He turns +his fur-lined cloak inside out, pulls down his cap, and faces it, but +against wind he needs protection, for wind is a great power on the +plains. Should the whirlwind catch the herd on the pastures, it will, +unless there be some wood to check them, drive them straight to the +Theiss. So the shelter is formed of a planking of thick boards, with +three extended wings into the corners of which the cattle can withdraw.</p> + +<p>The herdsmen's dwelling is a little hut, its walls plastered like a +swallow's nest. It is not meant for sleeping in, there is not room +enough, but is only a place where the men keep their furs and their +"bank." This is just a small calf's skin with the feet left on, and a +lock in place of the head. It holds their tobacco, red pepper, even +their papers. Round the walls hang their cloaks, the embroidered "szür" +for summer, for winter the fur-lined bunda. These are the herdsman's +coverings, and in them he sleeps beneath God's sky. Only the overseer +reposes under the projecting eaves, on a wooden bench for bedstead, +above his head<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> the shelf with the big round loaves, and the tub that +holds the week's provisions. His wife, who lives in the town, brings +them every Sunday afternoon.</p> + +<p>Before the hut stands a small circular erection woven out of reeds, with +a brick-paved flooring and no roof. This is the kitchen, the "vásalo," +and here the herdsman's stew, "gulyáshús" and meal porridge are cooked +in a big pot hung on a forked stick. The taligás does the cooking. A row +of long-handled tin spoons are stuck in the reed wall.</p> + +<p>"But where did the gentlemen leave the cowboy?" asked the overseer.</p> + +<p>"He had some small account to settle with the innkeeper's daughter," +answered the farmer. His name was Sajgató.</p> + +<p>"Well, if he comes home drunk the betyár!"</p> + +<p>"Betyár," interrupted the painter, delighted at hearing the word. "Is +our cowboy a betyár?"</p> + +<p>"I only used the expression as a compliment," the overseer explained.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" sighed the painter, "I should so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> like to see a <i>real</i> betyár, to +put him in my sketch-book!"</p> + +<p>"Well, the gentleman won't find one here, we don't care for thieves. If +one comes roaming around we soon kick him out."</p> + +<p>"So there are no betyárs left on the Hortobágy puszta?"</p> + +<p>"There's no saying! Certainly there are plenty of thieves among the +shepherds, and some of the swineherds turn brigands, and it does +sometimes happen that when a csikós gets silly and loses his head, he +sinks to a vagabond betyár, but no one can ever remember a cowboy having +taken to robbery."</p> + +<p>"How is that?"</p> + +<p>"Because the cowboy works among quiet, sensible beasts. He never sits +drinking with shepherds and swineherds."</p> + +<p>"Then the cowherd is the aristocrat of the puszta?" remarked the manager +of the stables.</p> + +<p>"That's it, exactly. Just as counts and barons are among grand folk, so +are csikós and cowboys among the other herdsmen."</p> + +<p>"So there is no equality on the puszta?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>"As long as men are on the earth, there will never be equality," said +the overseer. "He who is born a gentleman will remain one, even in a +peasant's coat. He will never steal his neighbour's cow or horse, even +if he find it straying, but will drive it back to its owner. But whether +he won't try a little cheating at the market, that I am not prepared to +say."</p> + +<p>"For gentlemen to take in each other at the horse fair is, however, +quite an aristocratic custom!"</p> + +<p>"Still more so at the cattle market, so I would recommend you to use +your eyeglass while you are with us, for when once you have driven off +your cattle I am no longer responsible."</p> + +<p>"Thanks for the warning," said the manager.</p> + +<p>Here the doctor interrupted the discussion.</p> + +<p>"Come out, gentlemen," he cried, "in front of the kitchen, and see the +sunrise."</p> + +<p>The painter rushed forward, and began to sketch, but soon fell into +utter despair.</p> + +<p>"Why, this is absurd! What colour!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> dark blue ground, violet mist on the +horizon, above it orange sky, and over that a long streak of rosy cloud. +What, a purple glory announces the coming of the sun! A glowing fire is +rising above the sharply defined horizon! Just like a burning pyramid, +now like red hot iron! Yet not so dazzling that one cannot look at it +with the naked eye. Now look, do! The sun is five-sided, the upper part +grows egg-shaped! The lower contracts, the top flattens out, now it is +quite like a mushroom! No, no, a Roman urn. This is absurd, it can't be +painted. Now there comes a thin cloud which turns it into a blindfolded +cupid, or a bearded deputy. No! If I painted the sun five-sided and with +a moustache they would shut me up in an asylum."</p> + +<p>The painter threw down his brushes.</p> + +<p>"These Hungarians," he said, "must always have something out of the +common. Here they are giving us a sunrise which is a reality, but at the +same time an impossibility. That is not as it should be."</p> + +<p>The doctor began to explain that this was only an optical delusion, like +the <i>fata<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> morgana</i>, and was due to the refraction of the rays through +the differently heated strata of the atmosphere.</p> + +<p>"All the same it is impossible," said the painter. "Why, I can't believe +what I see."</p> + +<p>But the sun did not leave him in wonder much longer. Hitherto, the whole +display had been but a dazzling effect of mirage, and when the real orb +rose with floods of light, the human eye could no longer gaze at it with +impunity. Then the rosy heavens suddenly brightened into gold, and the +line of the horizon appeared to melt into the sky.</p> + +<p>At the first flash of sunlight the whole sleeping camp stirred. The +forest of horns of fifteen hundred cattle moved. The old bull shook the +bell at his neck, and at its sound uprose the puszta chorus. One +thousand five hundred cattle began to low.</p> + +<p>"Splendid! Good Lord," exclaimed the painter ecstatically. "This is a +Wagner chorus! Oboes, hunting horns, kettledrums! What an overture! What +a scene! It is a finale from the Götterdämmerung!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said Mr. Sajgató. "But now they are going to the well. Every +cow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> is calling her calf, that is why they are lowing."</p> + +<p>Three herdsmen ran to the well—the beam of which testified to the skill +of the carpenter—and setting the three buckets in motion, emptied the +water into the large drinking trough—fatiguing work which has to be +done three times a day.</p> + +<p>"Would it not be simpler to use some mechanism worked by horse-power?" +inquired the German gentleman of the overseer.</p> + +<p>"We have such a machine," he replied, "but the cowboy would rather wear +out his own hands than frighten his horse with it."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile a fourth cowboy had been occupied in picking out those cows +which belonged to Mr. Sajgató, and in removing their calves, which he +drove into the corral, the mothers following them meekly into the fenced +enclosure.</p> + +<p>"These are mine," said Mr. Sajgató.</p> + +<p>"But how can the herdsman tell among a thousand cattle which belong to +Mr. Sajgató?" asked the manager of the stables. "How do you know one +from the other?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>The overseer cast a compassionate glance over his shoulder at the +questioner.</p> + +<p>"Has the gentleman ever seen two cows just alike?"</p> + +<p>"To my eyes they are all alike."</p> + +<p>"But not to the herdsman's," said the overseer.</p> + +<p>The manager, however, professed himself perfectly satisfied with the +selected cattle.</p> + +<p>The barrow-boy now came up, and announced that from the look-out tree he +had seen the other cowherd coming up at a gallop.</p> + +<p>"Running his horse!" growled the overseer. "Just let him show his face +here. I'll thrash him till he forgets even his own name."</p> + +<p>"But you won't really strike him?"</p> + +<p>"No, for whoever beats a cowherd will have to kill him before he cures +him in that way, and he's my favourite lad too! I brought him up and +christened him. He is my godson, the rascal!"</p> + +<p>"Yet you part with him? He is taking the herd to Moravia!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the overseer. "Just because<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> I have a leaning towards the +boy. I don't like the way he is going on—head over ears in love with +that pale-faced girl at the Hortobágy inn. 'Tis a bad business. The girl +has a sweetheart already. A csikós, who is away soldiering; and if he +comes home on leave and the lads meet, it will be like two angry bulls +who mean business. Much better that he should go away and take to some +pretty little Annie up there, and forget all about his yellow rose."</p> + +<p>In the meantime the veterinary had examined every beast separately, and +had made out a certificate for each. Then the taligás marked the buyer's +initials in vermilion on their hides—for all the herdsmen can write.</p> + +<p>The clattering hoofs of the horse which carried the cowboy could now be +heard. His sleepiness had vanished with the sharp ride, and the morning +air had cleared his head. He sprang smartly from the saddle, at some +distance from the corral, and came up leading his horse by the bridle.</p> + +<p>"You rag-tag and bobtail!" called out the overseer from the front of the +enclosure. "Where the devil have you been?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>Not a word said the lad, but slipped the saddle and bridle off his +horse. It was white with foam, and taking a corner of his coat he rubbed +its chest, wiped it down, and fastened on the halter.</p> + +<p>"Where were you? by Pontius Pilate's copper angel! Coming an hour behind +the gentry you should have brought with you. Eh, scoundrel?"</p> + +<p>Still the lad was silent, fiddled with the horse, and hung saddle and +bridle on the rack.</p> + +<p>The overseer's face grew purple. He screamed the louder, "Will you +answer me, or shall I have to bore a hole in your ears?"</p> + +<p>Then the cowboy spoke. "You know, master, that I am deaf and dumb."</p> + +<p>"Damn the day you were born!" cried the overseer.</p> + +<p>"Do you think I invented that story that you should mock me? Don't you +see the sun is up?"</p> + +<p>"Well, is it my fault that the sun is up?"</p> + +<p>The others began to laugh, while the overseer's wrath increased.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>"Take care, you blackguard, better not attempt to trifle with me, for if +I once lay hands on you, I'll mangle you like unbleached linen."</p> + +<p>"I'll be there too, you bet!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed you won't, rascal," exclaimed the overseer, who himself could +not help laughing. "There! talk to him in German any of you who can!"</p> + +<p>The manager of the stables thereupon thought he might have a talk with +the herdsman in German.</p> + +<p>"You're a fine strong fellow!" he said, "I wonder they didn't make an +Hussar of you. Why did they not enlist you? What defect could they +find?"</p> + +<p>The cowboy made a wry grimace, for peasant lads do not much care for +those sort of questions.</p> + +<p>"I think they did not take me for a soldier," he answered, "because +there are two holes in my nose."</p> + +<p>"There, you see, he can't talk sense!" exclaimed the overseer. "Clear +out, you betyár, to the watering—not there! What did I tell you? Are +you tipsy? Can't you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> see the cows are all corralled, and who is to +bring out the bull?"</p> + +<p>It takes a man, and no mere stripling, to take a bull out of the herd, +and this Ferko Lacza was a master of the art. With sweet words and +caresses, such as he might use to a pet lamb, he coaxed out the beast +which belonged to Mr. Sajgató, and led him in front of the gentlemen. A +splendid animal he was too; massive head, sharp horns, and great +black-ringed eyes. There he stood, allowing the cowboy to scratch his +shaggy forehead, and licking his hand with his rough, rasping tongue.</p> + +<p>"And the beast has only seen the third grass," said its owner. The +herdsmen reckon the age of their cattle according to the grass, that is +the summers they have lived through.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the painter did not let slip the opportunity of making a +sketch of the great horned beast and its companion. "The cowboy must +stand just like that with his hand on the horns." The lad, however, was +not used to posing, and it injured his dignity.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>When their models are restless, artists often try and amuse them with +conversation.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," asked the painter—the others were inspecting the cows—"is +it true that you herdsmen can cheat about your cattle at the market?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. The master has this very moment taken in the gentleman with +the bull. He made it out to be three years old, and see, there is not an +eye tooth left in its head!" He opened the animal's mouth as he spoke to +prove the fact of the deception.</p> + +<p>The painter's sense of honour was even keener than his passion for art. +He immediately stopped painting. "I have finished," he said, and hastily +closing his sketch-book, he departed in search of his friends, who were +standing among the chosen cattle in the enclosure. Then he revealed the +great secret. The manager of the stables was horror-struck. Opening the +mouths of two or three cows, he called out:</p> + +<p>"Look here, overseer! You warned us that cattle sellers like to 'green' +their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> customers, but I won't be done like this. Everyone of these cows +is so old that there is not an eye tooth left in its head."</p> + +<p>The overseer stroked his moustache, and answered with a broad grin, +"Yes, I know that joke; it came out in last year's calendar. The General +who was cheated in the Franco-Prussian War through not knowing that +cattle have no eye teeth."</p> + +<p>"Haven't they?" asked the manager in surprise, and when the doctor +assured him that it was so, he said petulantly, "Well, how should I know +about a cow's mouth? I am no cattle dentist. All my work has lain among +horses!" But he must needs vent his anger on somebody, so he flew upon +the painter for having led him into such a trap. "How could you?" he +demanded. The painter, however, was too much of a gentleman to betray +the cowboy, who had first taken him in. At last the taligás put an end +to the dispute by respectfully announcing that breakfast was waiting.</p> + +<p>The taligás is cook on the puszta. All this time he had been preparing +the herdsman's breakfast of "tesztás kása," or meal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> porridge. Now, +bringing out the pot, he set it on a three-legged stool. The guests sat +round it, and to each he handed a long tin spoon with which to help +himself. "Excellent," pronounced the gentlemen, and when they had eaten, +the overseer and the herdsmen devoured what remained. The scrapings of +the pot fell to the taligás. Meanwhile, Mr. Sajgató was in the kitchen +preparing the "Hungarian coffee," which all who have been on the puszta +know so well. "Hungarian coffee" is red wine heated up with brown sugar, +cinnamon, and cloves. It tastes most delicious after such an early +outing on the plains.</p> + +<p>Then the taligás took the pot, rinsed it, filled it with water, and hung +it over the fire. The gulyás stew would be ready when the gentlemen +returned from their walk. They would then taste something really good!</p> + +<p>Ferko Lacza showed the company round, pointing out to the strangers all +the sights of the puszta, such as the wind shelter and the railed-in +burying place for cattle.</p> + +<p>"In the good old days," he explained,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> "if a beast died, we just left it +where it fell, and the vultures came in flocks and picked it clean. Now, +since this new order has come out, we have to inform the vet over at the +Mata Farm, who comes and inspects it, writes down what it died of, and +bids us bury it without fail. But we are sorry to see so much good meat +wasted, so we manage to take a chunk or two, which we cut up small, +cook, and spread out in the sun to dry. This we stuff into our bags, and +whenever we want gulyás, why we throw as many dried handfuls of meat +into the pot as there are men to eat it."</p> + +<p>The painter looked the cowboy hard in the face, then turned to his +master.</p> + +<p>"Does this worthy herdsman of yours ever happen to speak the truth, +overseer?"</p> + +<p>"Very rarely, but this time he has, for once in his life."</p> + +<p>"Then thank you very much for your delightful gulyás."</p> + +<p>"Oh don't be alarmed!" said the overseer, "there's nothing bad about it. +Since God laid out the flat Hortobágy, that has always been the custom. +Look at those lads, can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> you desire healthier or stronger fellows? Yet +they have all grown up on carrion. The learned professors may talk as +much as they like, it doesn't hurt us Hungarians."</p> + +<p>The manager, however, listening to this revelation, strictly forbade his +Moravian drovers to touch the dish.</p> + +<p>"Though who knows," said the painter, "whether the old humbug has not +invented the whole story to scare us from the feast, and then have a +good laugh at us!"</p> + +<p>"We'll see," rejoined his comrade, "whether the vet eats it or not, for +he must know all about it."</p> + +<p>And now came the mirage, that seems like the realisation of a fairy +dream.</p> + +<p>Along the horizon lay a quivering sea, where high waves chased each +other from east to west, the real hills standing out as little islands +in their midst, and the stumpy acacias magnified into vast forests. +Oxen, grazing in the distance, were transformed into a street of +palaces. Boats which appeared to cross the ocean turned out on reaching +the shore to be nothing but some far off horses. The fantastic deception +is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> always at its height directly after sunrise, when whole villages are +often raised into the air, and brought so close that, with a glass, the +carts in their streets can be distinguished, their towers and houses +being all mirrored upside down on the billowy fairy sea. During cloudy +weather, however, they remain below the horizon.</p> + +<p>"Let the Germans copy this," exclaimed Mr. Sajgató to the admiring +group, while the painter tore his hair in despair.</p> + +<p>"Why am I compelled to see things I can't put on canvas? What <i>is</i> +this?"</p> + +<p>"Why the mirage," said the overseer.</p> + +<p>"And what is the mirage?"</p> + +<p>"The mirage is the mirage of the Hortobágy."</p> + +<p>But Ferko Lacza knew more than his master.</p> + +<p>"The mirage is God's miracle," he told them, "sent to keep us poor +herdsmen from growing weary of the long day on the puszta."</p> + +<p>Finally the painter turned to the doctor for an explanation. "I know +even less," said he. "I have read Flammarion's book<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> on the atmosphere, +where he speaks of the Fata Morgana as seen on the African deserts, the +coasts of the Arctic ocean, on the Orinoco, and in Sicily, also Humboldt +and Bompland's descriptions. But learned men know nothing of the +Hortobágy mirage, though it may be seen every hot summer's day from +sunrise to sundown. Thus are Hungary's wonderful natural phenomena +utterly ignored by the scientific world."</p> + +<p>It did the doctor good to pour out the bitterness of his heart before +the strangers, but he had no time to admire the marvels of nature, being +obliged to hurry back to his animal hospital and pharmacy at Mata. So, +bidding adieu to both his old and new friends, he jumped into his gig, +and jogged away over the plain.</p> + +<p>The herd was already scattered far out on the puszta, the cowboys +driving it forward. The grass near at hand is more luscious, but in +spring the cattle graze far afield, so that when summer scorches the +distant pastures, the nearer still remain for them. Very touching was +the farewell between the main herd and their companions in the +enclosure—like a chorus of Druids and Valkyre.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>The head of the stables had meanwhile been occupied with the financial +side of the business and in arranging the line of march. In crisp brand +new hundred florin notes he paid Mr. Sajgató, who stuffed them into his +pocket so carelessly, that the manager thought it not superfluous to +remind him to look after his money on the puszta. Whereupon the proud +citizen of Debreczin answered phlegmatically,</p> + +<p>"Sir, I have been plundered and deceived during the course of my +existence, but never by robbers or rogues. They were always 'honourable +gentlemen,' who knew how to thieve and cheat!"</p> + +<p>The overseer likewise received his fee. "If," said the old herdsman, "I +might—out of pure friendliness—give you a word of advice, I would +recommend you, as you have bought the cows, to take the calves as well."</p> + +<p>"What, we don't want a crowd of noisy brutes! Why should we take carts +for them?"</p> + +<p>"They will go on their own feet."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and hinder us at every step, by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> stopping the cows to drink. +Besides, the duke's chief reason for buying this herd, is, as I know, +not to experiment with pure Hungarian cattle, but to cross them with his +Spanish breed."</p> + +<p>"Of course that is quite another thing," said the overseer.</p> + +<p>There now remained nothing else to do but to start the new bought herd. +The manager gave the herdsman his credentials, and the chief constable +handed him his pass. These documents, together with the cattle +certificates, he put into his bag. Then he tied the bell round the +bull's neck, knotted his cloak round its horns, and bidding everyone +good day, sprang into the saddle. The overseer brought him his knapsack, +filled with bacon, bread, and garlic, enough for the week that they +would take to reach Miskolcz. Then he described the whole route to him. +How they must first go by Polgár, because of the mud at Csege, caused by +the spring rains, and sleep on the way in the little wood. They would +cross the Theiss by the ferry-boat, but should the water be high, it +would be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> better to wait there, and give hay to the beasts rather than +risk an accident.</p> + +<p>Then he impressed on his godson the necessity of so behaving in a +foreign country that Debreczin need never blush for him. "He must obey +his employers, hold his high spirits in check, never forget Hungarian, +nor abandon his faith, but keep all the Church feasts, and not squander +his earnings. If he married he must take care of his wife, and give his +children Hungarian names, and when he had time he might write a line to +his godfather, who would willingly pay the postage."</p> + +<p>Then, with a godfather's blessing, he left the young fellow to set out +on his journey.</p> + +<p>Now the two Moravian drovers had undertaken the task of driving the +herd, when free from the enclosure, in the desired direction, but +naturally the beasts, as soon as they were set at liberty, rushed about +on all sides, and when the drovers attempted to force them, turned, and +prepared to run at them. Then they again made for the corral and their +calves.</p> + +<p>"Go and help those poor Christians!" said the overseer to the herdsman.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>"Better crack the whip among them," suggested the painter.</p> + +<p>"The devil take your whip," growled the overseer; "do you want them to +run to the four ends of the earth? These are no horses!"</p> + +<p>"I said they ought to be tied together in pairs by their horns," cried +the manager.</p> + +<p>"All right, just leave it to me."</p> + +<p>With that the cowherd whistled, and a little sheep-dog jumped from the +karám, and barking loudly, scampered after the disordered herd, dashed +round the scattered animals, snapped at the heels of the lazy ones, and +in less than two minutes had brought the whole drove into a well-ordered +military file, marching behind the bull with the bell.</p> + +<p>Then the cowherd also bounded after them, crying "Hi, Rosa! Csáko! +Kese!" He knew the name of everyone of the twenty-four, and they obeyed. +As for the bull, it was called "Büszke"—"Proud one."</p> + +<p>Thus, under this leadership, the herd moved quietly off over the wide +plain. For long the gentlemen gazed after it,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> till it arrived at the +brink of the quivering fairy sea. Then suddenly each beast grew +gigantic, more like a mammoth than a cow, jet black in colour, and with +legs growing to a fearful length, until at last there appeared to be +attached to them a second cow, moving along with the other, only upside +down. Herdsmen, dog, drovers, all followed them head downwards.</p> + +<p>The painter sank back on the grass, his arms and legs extended.</p> + +<p>"Well, if I tell this at the Art Club in Vienna, they will kick me out +at the door."</p> + +<p>"A bad sign," said Mr. Sajgató, shaking his head. "It's well the money +is in my pocket."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the cattle are not home yet," muttered the overseer.</p> + +<p>"What I wonder at," observed the manager, "is why some enterprising +individual has not taken the whole show on lease."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Mr. Sajgató with proud stolidity. "No doubt they would take +it to Vienna if they could. But Debreczin won't give it up."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + + +<p>The veterinary and his gig jolted merrily over the puszta. His good +little horse knew its lesson by heart, and needed neither whip nor +bridle. So, the doctor could take out his note-book, reckon, and +scribble. All at once, looking up, he noticed a csikós approaching, his +horse galloping wildly.</p> + +<p>The pace was so mad that both rider and steed seemed to be out of their +minds. Suddenly the horse rushed towards him, stood still, reared, and +then swerved aside, taking another direction. Its rider sat with head +thrown back, and arched body, clutching the bridle in both hands, while +the horse shook itself, and began to neigh and snort in a frightened +manner.</p> + +<p>Seeing this, the doctor seized whip and reins, and made every endeavour +to overtake the horseman. As he got closer he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> recognised the csikós. +"Sándor Decsi!" he exclaimed. And the rider appeared to know him also, +and to slacken the bridle as if to allow the horse to go nearer. The +clever animal reached the doctor's gig, puffing and blowing, and there +stopped of its own accord. It shook its head, snorted, and, in fact, did +everything but speak.</p> + +<p>The lad sat in the saddle, bent backwards, his face staring at the sky. +The bridle had dropped from his fingers, but his legs still gripped the +sides of his horse.</p> + +<p>"Sándor, lad! Sándor Decsi!" called the doctor. But the boy seemed not +to hear him, or hearing, to be incapable of speech.</p> + +<p>Jumping from his trap, the doctor went up to the rider, caught him round +the waist, and lifted him out of the saddle.</p> + +<p>"What ails you?" he said.</p> + +<p>But the lad was silent. His mouth was shut, his neck bent back, and his +breath came in quick gasps. His eyes, wide open, had a ghastly gleam, +which the dilation of the pupils rendered all the more hideous.</p> + +<p>Laying him flat on the turf, the doctor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> began to examine him. "Pulse +irregular, sometimes quick, sometimes stopping completely, pupils widely +dilated, jaws tightly closed, back curved. This young fellow has been +<i>poisoned</i>!" he cried, "and with some vegetable poison, too."</p> + +<p>The doctor had found the csikós midway between the Hortobágy inn and the +little settlement at Mata. Probably he was on his way to the hamlet when +the poison first began to act, and had tried as long as consciousness +lasted to get there; but when the spasms seized him, his movements +became involuntary, and the convulsive twitching of his arms had +startled the horse. It was also foaming at the mouth.</p> + +<p>The doctor next attempted to lift him into the gig, but the lad was too +heavy, and he could not manage it. Still, to leave him on the puszta was +impossible. Before he could return with help the eagles would already be +there, tearing at the unfortunate man. All this time the horse looked on +intelligently, as if it would speak, and, now bending its head over its +master, it gave some short abrupt snorts.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>"Well, help me then," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>Why should he not understand, a puszta steed, who has three-quarters of +a soul at least? Seeing the doctor struggling with his master, it caught +hold of his waistcoat with his teeth, and raised him, and so between +them, they managed to get the csikós into the gig. Then the doctor +knotted the horse's halter to the back of the trap, and galloped on to +the settlement.</p> + +<p>There, it is true, were hospital and pharmacy, but only for animals. The +doctor himself was but a cattle doctor. In such cases, however, he may +help who can. The question was, could he?</p> + +<p>The first thing to do was to discover what poison was at work, +strychnine or belladonna. At all events, black coffee could do no harm.</p> + +<p>Arrived at the farm, the doctor called out his assistant and his +housekeeper. Coffee was ready, but aid was necessary before the patient +could swallow. His jaws were so tightly locked that they had to force +his teeth apart with a chisel before it could be poured down.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>"Ice on his head, a mustard plaster on his stomach," ordered the doctor; +and there being no spare person at hand, he carried out his own +directions, at the same time giving instructions to his assistant, and +writing a letter at the table. "Listen," he said, "and think of what I +am telling you. Hurry in the gig to the Hortobágy inn, and hand this +letter to the innkeeper. If he is not at home, then tell the coachman my +orders are to put the horses in the caléche, and go as fast as he +possibly can to town, and give this sealed letter to the head doctor +there. He must wait and bring him back. I am a veterinary surgeon, and +on oath not to practise on beasts 'with souls.' The case needs help +urgently, and the doctor will bring his own medicine. But ask the +innkeeper's daughter for every grain of coffee she may have in the +house, for that the patient must drink until the real doctor comes. Now, +see how sharp you can be!"</p> + +<p>The assistant understood the task imposed on him, and made all haste to +get under way. The poor little grey had hardly had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> breathing time +before it was rattling back to the inn.</p> + +<p>Klári happened to be on the verandah, watering her musk-geraniums, when +the gig drove up.</p> + +<p>"What brings you, Pesta," she asked, "in such a fearful hurry?"</p> + +<p>"A letter for the master."</p> + +<p>"Well, it will be difficult to get a word out of him, because he is just +putting a new swarm into the hive."</p> + +<p>"But it is an order from the vet," said Pesta, "to send the carriage to +town immediately for the best doctor."</p> + +<p>"The doctor? Is someone ill? Who has the ague now?"</p> + +<p>"None of us, for the doctor picked him up on the meadow. It is Sándor +Decsi, the csikós."</p> + +<p>The girl gave a cry, and the watering-can fell from her hands. "Sándor? +Sándor is ill?"</p> + +<p>"So ill that he is trying to climb up the wall, and bite the bed-clothes +in his agony. Somebody has poisoned him."</p> + +<p>The girl had to clutch the door with both hands to prevent herself +falling.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>"Our doctor is not sure what is killing the herdsman, so he is obliged +to summon the town doctor to inspect him."</p> + +<p>Then Klári muttered something, but what could not be heard.</p> + +<p>"See, leave go the door, miss," said the assistant, "and let me in to +look for the master."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't he know what has hurt him?" stammered the girl.</p> + +<p>"And the doctor's message to you," added Pesta, "is to collect all the +ground coffee in the house, and give it to me. Till the other doctor +comes with medicine, he is treating Sándor Decsi with coffee, for he +can't tell what poison they gave the poor fellow." Then he hurried off +to search for the innkeeper.</p> + +<p>"He can't tell what poison," murmured Klári to herself, "but I can—if +that be the danger, why I could tell the doctor, and then he would at +once know what to give him."</p> + +<p>She ran into her room, and opening the chest took from its bottom, the +man-shaped witch roots. These she stuffed into her pocket.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>Cursed be she who had given the evil counsel, and cursed be she who had +followed it!</p> + +<p>Then she set to work grinding coffee, so that by the time the assistant +returned from the garden, where he had been forced to help with the +swarm, the tin box was quite full.</p> + +<p>"Now give me the coffee, miss," said he.</p> + +<p>"I am coming with you."</p> + +<p>The assistant was a sharp lad and saw through the sieve. "Do not come, +miss," he said, "you really must not see Sándor Decsi in such a state. +It is enough to freeze one's marrow to look at his agony. Besides, the +doctor would never allow it."</p> + +<p>"It is just the doctor I want to speak to," said the girl.</p> + +<p>"But then who will attend to the customers?"</p> + +<p>"The servant-girl is here, and the lad, they'll manage."</p> + +<p>"But at least ask the master's permission," begged Pesta.</p> + +<p>"Not I!" cried Klári, "he would not let me go. There, get out of the +way."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>So saying, she pushed the assistant aside, flew out into the courtyard, +and with one bound was seated in the gig. There she seized the reins, +flourished the whip about the poor grey's back, and drove where she +wished. The assistant left behind gasping, shouted after her,</p> + +<p>"Miss Klári! Miss Klári! Stop a bit!" But though he ran till he was +breathless, he only caught the gig at the bridge, where the tired horse +had to go slowly up the incline. Then he too jumped on to the seat.</p> + +<p>Never had the grey's back felt such thwacks as on this drive to Mata! By +the time they reached the sandy ground, it could only go at a walk, and, +the girl, impatient, sprang from the gig, and catching hold of the +canister, rushed over the clover field to the doctor's farm, which she +reached panting and speechless.</p> + +<p>Through the window the doctor saw her coming and went to meet her, +barring her way at the verandah.</p> + +<p>"You come here, Klárika! How is that?"</p> + +<p>"Sándor?" gasped the girl.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>"Sándor is ill."</p> + +<p>Through the open door the girl could hear the groans of the sick man.</p> + +<p>"What has happened to him?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know myself, and I don't want to accuse anyone."</p> + +<p>"But I know!" cried the girl, "someone—a wicked girl—gave him +something bad to drink. I know who it was too! She stirred it into his +wine, to make him love her, and that made him ill. I know who it was, +and how it was."</p> + +<p>"Miss Klári, do not play the traitor. This is a serious crime, and must +be proved."</p> + +<p>"Here are the proofs."</p> + +<p>And with that girl took the roots out of her pocket, and laid them +before the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried the doctor, stupefied, "why, this is <i>Atropa mandragora</i>—a +deadly poison!"</p> + +<p>The girl clapped her hands to her face, "How did I know it was poison?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>"Klárika," said the doctor, "do not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> startle me more or I shall jump out +of the window. Surely <i>you</i> did not poison Sándor?"</p> + +<p>The girl nodded mutely.</p> + +<p>"And what in thunder did you do it for?"</p> + +<p>"He was so unkind to me, and once a gypsy woman made me believe that if +I steeped that root in his wine I should have him at my feet again."</p> + +<p>"Well, I never! . . . You must hold traffic with gypsy women, must you? +To school you won't go, where the master would teach you to distinguish +poisonous plants. No, no, you will only learn from a gypsy vagabond! +Well, you have made your lad nice and obedient!"</p> + +<p>"Will he die?" asked the girl with an imploring look.</p> + +<p>"Die? Must he die next? No, his body and soul are not stitched together +in such a ramshackle fashion."</p> + +<p>"Then he will live!" cried the girl, and knelt down before the doctor, +snatching his hands, and kissing them repeatedly.</p> + +<p>"Don't kiss my hand," said he, "it is all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> over mustard plaster, and +will make your mouth swell."</p> + +<p>So she kissed his feet, and when he forbade that, also his footprints. +Down on the brick floor she went and kissed the muddy footprints with +her pretty, rosy lips.</p> + +<p>"Now, stand up and talk sense," said the doctor. "Have you brought the +coffee? ground and roasted? Right—for that is what he must drink till +the doctor comes. It is well you told me what poison the lad took, for +now I know the antidote. But as for you, child, make up your mind to +vanish from these parts as soon as you like, for what you have done is a +crime, which the town doctor will report, and the matter will come +before the court and judge. So fly away, where there are no tongues to +tell on you."</p> + +<p>"I won't fly," said the girl, drying her tears with her apron. "Here is +my neck, more I can't offer. If I have done wrong, it is only just that +I should suffer for it, but from this spot I won't stir! The groaning I +hear through the door binds me faster than if my feet were in fetters. +Doctor!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> sir! for God's sake let me be near to nurse him, to foment his +head, smooth his pillows, and wipe the sweat from his brow."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! Is that your idea? Why, they would clap me into the madhouse, +if I entrusted the nursing of the victim to the poisoner."</p> + +<p>A look of unspeakable pain came over the girl's face.</p> + +<p>"Does the doctor believe that I am really bad then?" she asked. Glancing +round she caught sight of the damnatory root lying on the window-sill, +and before he could stop her, had grasped it, and was putting it into +her mouth.</p> + +<p>"No, no, Klárika," said the doctor, "do not play with that poison. Don't +bite it, take it out of your mouth instantly. I would rather allow you +to go to the patient, though it is no sight for you, as I tell you +beforehand. No tender-hearted person should see such suffering."</p> + +<p>"I know; your assistant told me everything. How one cannot recognise +him, his face is so changed. Dark blotches instead of healthy red +colour, death-like shadow on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> his forehead, and cold perspiration +shining on his cheeks. His eyes are wide open with a glassy stare, his +lips seem gummed together, and if he opens them they foam. How he +groans, struggles, gnashes his teeth, tosses his arms about, and +contorts his back! An agonising sight! But let this be my punishment, to +feel his moans and sufferings, like so many sharp knives stabbing my +heart. And if I do not actually witness them with my own eyes and ears, +I shall still seem to see and hear them as acutely as if I was really +present."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the doctor, "let us see if you are really brave enough. +Take charge of the coffee-pot, and have black coffee always ready; but +if you burst out crying I will push you out of the room."</p> + +<p>Then he opened the door and allowed her to enter.</p> + +<p>The world went blue and green to the girl as her eyes fell on her +sweetheart lying there. Where was the radiant young fellow who had left +her such a short time ago? Now it was painful to look at him, to endure +the sight of him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>The doctor called in his assistant, and the girl stifled her sobs as +best she might, over the coffee-pot. If the doctor caught the sound of +one he would glance at her reproachfully, and she would pretend it was a +cough.</p> + +<p>The two men applied mustard plasters to the patient's feet.</p> + +<p>"Now bring your coffee and pour it into his mouth," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>But that was a business! Both had to exert their full strength to hold +down the lad's arms, and prevent his flinging them about.</p> + +<p>"Now, Klárika, open his mouth; not like that! You must force his teeth +apart with the chisel. Don't be afraid, he won't swallow it. See, he +holds it as fast as a vice."</p> + +<p>The girl obeyed.</p> + +<p>"Now pour in the coffee by the spout, gently. There you are a clever +girl. I can recommend you to the Sisters of Mercy as a sick nurse!"</p> + +<p>There was a smile on the girl's face, but her heart was breaking.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>"If only he would not look at me with those eyes!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the doctor, "that is the worst of all, those two staring +eyes. I think so too."</p> + +<p>At length there seemed some little improvement, possibly the effect of +the remedy. The patient's groans became less frequent, and the cramp in +his limbs relaxed, but his forehead burned like fire. The doctor +instructed the girl how to wring out the cold water bandage—lay it on +the aching head, leave it a little, and then change it again. She did +all that he bade her.</p> + +<p>"Now I see that you have a brave heart," he said, and in time came her +reward, for to her joy the sufferer suddenly closed his eyelids, and the +terrible stare of those black-shadowed eyes ceased altogether. Later his +mouth relaxed and they were able to open the close-shut jaws without +difficulty.</p> + +<p>Maybe it was the prompt application of the antidote; maybe the dose of +poison had not been strong, but by the time the doctor from town had +arrived, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> patient was very unmistakably better. The veterinary and +the doctor conversed in Latin, which the girl could not understand, but +her instinct told her that it was of her they were speaking. Then the +doctor ordered this and that, and after writing the <i>usum repertum</i>, +returned to his carriage, and hastened back to town.</p> + +<p>Not so the gendarme whom he had brought with him on the box. He +remained. Hardly had the physician gone, when another trap rumbled into +the yard. This was the Hortobágy innkeeper, who had come to demand his +daughter.</p> + +<p>"Gently now, master," they said, "the young woman is under arrest. Don't +you see the gendarme?"</p> + +<p>"I always did say that when once a girl loses her head she goes mad +altogether. Well, it's no concern of mine." And with charming +indifference the old innkeeper thereupon turned and drove back to the +Hortobágy inn.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + + +<p>All night long the girl watched beside him—to no one would she yield +her place at the sick bed. She had been up till dawn the night before as +well, but how differently occupied! This was her penance.</p> + +<p>Now and then she nodded sleepily in her chair, but the slightest moan +from the sick man sufficed to wake her. Sometimes she renewed the cold +bandage on his head, and bathed her own eyes to keep herself awake. At +the first cock-crow kindly sleep settled softly on the patient. He +stretched himself out and began to snore with beautiful regularity. At +first the girl was terrified, and thought the death struggle was at +hand, but presently she grew very happy. This was a good honest snore, +such as could only emanate from healthy lungs; and besides, as she +reflected, it kept her wide awake.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> When the cock crew for the second +time, he was in a sound slumber.</p> + +<p>Then he started from sleep and yawned widely.</p> + +<p>Thank heaven! He could yawn again.</p> + +<p>The spasms had quite ceased, and all who suffer from their nerves know +the worth of a good yawn after the attack. It is as good as a lottery +prize.</p> + +<p>The girl wished to give him more coffee, but the man shook his head. +"Water," he murmured.</p> + +<p>So she rapped through to the doctor, who was reposing in the next room, +to know if she might give the patient water, as he was asking for it.</p> + +<p>The doctor rose, and came out in dressing-gown and slippers, to see for +himself. He was most satisfied. "He is going on well; to be thirsty is a +good sign. Give him as much water as he wants." The invalid drank a +whole carafe and then dropped into a quiet slumber.</p> + +<p>"Now he is fast asleep," said the doctor to Klári, "so you may go and +lie down on the bed in the housekeeper's room. I will leave my door +open, and take care of him."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>But the girl pleaded so hard to be allowed to stay, to lean her head on +the table and thus steal a nap, that he at last let her do as she +pleased. Suddenly she awoke with a start to find it was day, and the +sparrows were twittering at the windows.</p> + +<p>The patient was then dreaming as well as sleeping. His lips moved, he +murmured something and laughed. His eyes half opened, but evidently with +a great effort, for they closed immediately. But his parched lips seemed +to be asking for something.</p> + +<p>"Shall I give you water?" whispered the girl.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he muttered, with his eyes shut.</p> + +<p>So she brought him the water bottle, but he had not strength enough in +his arms—this great fellow—even to raise the tumbler to his mouth. She +had to lift his head and give it to him. Even while drinking he fell +half asleep.</p> + +<p>Hardly had his head touched the pillow when he began to hum +aloud—probably a continuation of the gay air of his dreams:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"Why not love this world of ours?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gypsy maid, Magyar maid, both are flowers."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + + +<p>A day or two later the lad was on his feet again. Such tough fellows as +he, born and bred on the puszta, do not linger long on the sick list +when once the crisis is past. They abhor bed. So on the third day he +told the doctor that he wished to get back to the horses at his place of +service.</p> + +<p>"Wait a bit, Sándor, my boy. Somebody has to speak with you first."</p> + +<p>"Somebody" turned out to be the examining magistrate. On the third day, +after the report, this official, with his notary and a gendarme, arrived +at Mata to conduct the formal inquiry. The accused—the young woman—had +already been examined, and had given a full account of everything. She +denied nothing, only saying in her defence that she was very much in +love<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> with Sándor, and wished to make him love her as well.</p> + +<p>All this was taken down in the protocol and signed. Nothing now remained +but to confront the prisoner with her victim. And this was done as soon +as the herdsman had regained sufficient strength.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile he never once uttered the girl's name in the doctor's +presence, pretending not to know that she had been in the house nursing +him, and as the young man recovered consciousness, she ceased to show +herself at all. Before confronting her with him, the magistrate read out +the deposition to the girl, who confirmed it anew, and would not have a +word altered.</p> + +<p>Then Sándor Decsi was brought forward.</p> + +<p>As soon as the csikós entered the room he began to act a preconcerted +rôle. His swaggering betyár airs were such that one would have thought +he had only learnt to play the csikós on the stage. When the judge asked +his name he stared at him over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"My worthy name? Sándor Decsi! I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> have hurt no one, nor have I stolen +anything, that I should be dragged here by gendarmes. Besides, I am not +under civil authority. I am still a soldier of the Emperor, and if +anyone has a complaint against me, let him go before the regimental +authorities, and there I will answer him."</p> + +<p>The magistrate silenced him. "Gently, young man, no one is accusing you +of anything. We only want enlightenment in an affair closely concerning +yourself. That is the object of this investigation. Tell us when were +you last in the taproom of the Hortobágy inn?"</p> + +<p>"I can inform you exactly. What is there to hide? But first send away +this gendarme at my back. Because if he should happen to come too near, +I am touchy and might give him a blow."</p> + +<p>"Now, now, not so fast, young fellow. The gendarme is not guarding you. +Tell us when it was that you visited Miss Klári here—the day she served +you with wine?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I will as soon as I have got my wits together. The last time I +was at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> Hortobágy inn was last year, on Demeter's day, when they +engage the shepherds. Then they took me for a soldier, and I have not +been in the place since."</p> + +<p>"Sándor!" broke in the girl.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sándor is my name. So they christened me."</p> + +<p>"Then you were not there three days ago, when the barmaid gave you the +wine mixed with mandragora, which made you so ill?"</p> + +<p>"I <i>never</i> was at the Hortobágy inn, nor did I see Miss Klári. It is +half a year since I asked for any of her wine!"</p> + +<p>"Sándor, you are lying for my sake!" cried the girl.</p> + +<p>The judge grew angry.</p> + +<p>"Do not try to mislead the authorities with your denials. The girl has +already confessed everything—that she made you drink wine poisoned with +mandrake roots."</p> + +<p>"Why, then, the young woman lied," said the herdsman.</p> + +<p>"But what reason could she have for accusing herself of a crime which +entails such heavy punishment?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>"Why, what reason? Because when the mad fit comes upon a girl, she +simply raves without rhyme or reason. Miss Klári fancies our eyes don't +meet each other's often enough, so she has an ill will against me, and +now she takes to accusing herself to compel me to let out the <i>other +one's</i> name, out of sheer compassion—the pretty lass, to whom I went to +lose my soul and cure my heart, and who gave me the charm to drink. +Well, if I choose I'll tell, but if I don't, I won't. This is Miss +Klári's revenge for my having neither called on her, nor gone near her +since I came home on leave."</p> + +<p>At these words the girl turned on him like a fury.</p> + +<p>"Sándor!—you who have never lied in your life—what ails you? When the +one little lie, which they put in your mouth, would have saved you from +soldiering, that you could not tell! Now you deny being with me three +days ago. Then who brought me the comb that I have done up my hair +with?"</p> + +<p>The csikós laughed grimly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>"Who brought it, and why? Surely the young lady knows better than I!"</p> + +<p>"Sándor, this is not right of you! I don't mind if they put me in the +pillory for my wrong-doing, and lash and scourge me. Here is my head; +let them cut it off if they like. But don't tell me you never cared for +me, nor came to see me, for that is worse than death."</p> + +<p>The judge flew into a rage. "Confound you," he cried. "Settle your love +affairs between yourselves. Since a flagrant case of poisoning has been +committed, I want to know who was the culprit!"</p> + +<p>"Now answer!" exclaimed the girl, with flaming cheeks. "Answer that!"</p> + +<p>"Well, well. Since I must, so be it, I can tell you all about it. On the +Ohát puszta I fell in with a gypsy band in tents. One of them, a lovely +girl, with eyes like sloes, who was standing outside, spoke to me, and +invited me in. They were roasting a sucking pig, and we enjoyed +ourselves. I drank their wine, and at once felt that it had a bitter +taste; but the kisses of the gypsy lass were so sweet that I forgot all +about it."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>"You <i>lie</i>, <i>lie</i>, <i>lie</i>!" shrieked the girl. "You have invented that +story this very minute!"</p> + +<p>The herdsman laughed loudly, clapped one hand to the crown of his head, +snapped his fingers in the air, and started his favourite song:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"Why not love this world of ours?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gypsy maid, Magyar maid, both are flowers."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Not this very minute had he invented this tale, but on that night of +pain when the "Yellow Rose" had sat smoothing his pillows and bathing +his brow. Then, with his aching head, he had thought out a plan to save +his faithless sweetheart.</p> + +<p>The judge struck his fist on the table.</p> + +<p>"None of your nonsense before me, making fun of the matter."</p> + +<p>"I make fun of the matter!" exclaimed the csikós, becoming serious +instantly. "I swear before God above, all I have said is true."</p> + +<p>He raised his three fingers, and the girl screamed out,</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>"No, no! Do not perjure yourself! Do not risk the salvation of your +soul!"</p> + +<p>"The devil take you both, for you are both mad." This was the judge's +verdict. "Notary, take down the herdsman's statement regarding the +gypsy, who will be charged with committing the crime. As to her +whereabouts, that the police must discover. It is their business. You +two can go; if necessary, we will summon you again."</p> + +<p>Then they let the girl free. She deserved a little fatherly rebuke, and +that she got.</p> + +<p>The lad remained behind to hear his deposition taken down, and to sign +it. The girl waited on the verandah for him to come out, his horse being +tethered to an acacia hard by.</p> + +<p>The lad, however, first went to the doctor to thank him for his +unremitting kindness. The doctor having attended the inquiry, had, of +course, heard everything.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sándor," he said, as soon as the thanks had been got over, "I +have seen many famous actors on the stage, but never one who played the +betyár as you did!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>"I did right, didn't I?" asked the lad gravely.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, you are an honourable fellow. But say a kind word to the +girl if you meet her. Poor thing, she never meant to do such wrong."</p> + +<p>"I am not angry with her. May God bless you, sir, for your great +goodness."</p> + +<p>As he stepped out on to the verandah, the girl stopped him, and seized +his hand.</p> + +<p>"Sándor, what have you done? Sent your soul to perdition, sworn falsely, +told a lying tale, all to set me free! You have denied ever having loved +me, that my body may escape the lash, and my slender neck the blow that +would sever it. Why have you done this?"</p> + +<p>"That is my affair. This much I will tell you; from henceforth, one of +us two I must hate and despise. Do not cry, you are not that one! I dare +no longer look in your eyes, because I see myself reflected there, and I +am worth no more than the broken button that is coming off my waistcoat. +God bless you."</p> + +<p>With that he untied his horse from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> acacia, sprang on to it, and +dashed off into the puszta.</p> + +<p>The girl gazed and gazed after him, till her sight grew dim from tears. +Then she sought till she found the broken button he had cast on the +floor. This she placed next her heart.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + + +<p>It happened just as the overseer had predicted. When the herd reached +the Polgár ferry it was impossible to cross. The Theiss, the Sajó, the +Hernád, all were in flood. The water touched the planking of the +foot-bridge. The ferry-boat had been hauled up, and moored to the +willows on the bank. Great trees, torn up by their roots, were coming +down on the turbulent dirty flood; and flocks of wild ducks, divers, and +cormorants were disporting themselves on the waters, fearless of the gun +at such a time.</p> + +<p>But that communication should be stopped was a dire misfortune, not only +for the Duke's cattle, but much more so for all the market-goers from +Debreczin and Újváros, striving to reach the Onod fair. There stood +their carts, out among the puddles,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> under the open sky, while their +owners bewailed the bad luck in the one small drinking-room of the +Polgár ferry-house.</p> + +<p>Ferko Lacza went off to buy hay for the herd, and purchased a whole +stack. "For here we can sit kicking our heels for three days at the +shortest!"</p> + +<p>Now, by good luck, there was, among those bound for the market, a +purveyor of cooked meat, with her enormous iron frying pan, and fresh +pork, ready sliced. She found a ready sale for her wares, setting up a +makeshift cook-shop in a hut constructed of maize stalks. Firewood she +did not need to buy, the Theiss brought plenty. Wine the old innkeeper +had, sharp, but good, since none better was to be got. Besides, every +Hungarian carries his pipe, tobacco, and his bag of provisions when he +gives his mind to travel.</p> + +<p>So the time passed in forming new acquaintances. The Debreczin bootmaker +and the tanner from Balmaz-Újváros were old friends, while the vendor of +cloaks was universally addressed as "Daddy." The ginger-bread baker, who +thought himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> better than the others because he wore a long coat with +a scarlet collar, sat at a separate table, but, nevertheless, joined in +the conversation. Later, a horse-cooper appeared; but as his nose was +crooked, he was only allowed to talk standing. When the cowherd entered, +a place was squeezed out for him at the table, for even townsfolk +respect a herdsman's position of trust. The Moravian drovers stayed +outside to watch the cattle.</p> + +<p>The tittle-tattle went on pleasantly and quietly as yet, young Mistress +Pundor not having arrived. When she put in an appearance, nobody would +get in a word edgeways. But her cart had evidently stuck on the way, at +some seductive inn, she having seized the opportunity of travelling with +the carpenter, her brother-in-law. He was taking tulip-decorated chests +to the Onod fair, while young Mistress Pundor supplied the world with +soap and tallow candles. When the herdsman entered, the room was so full +of smoke that he could hardly see.</p> + +<p>"Then tell us, 'Daddy,'" the shoemaker<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> was saying to the tanner, "for +you at Újváros are nearer the Hortobágy inn than we; how did the +innkeeper's girl poison the csikós?"</p> + +<p>At these words the cowboy felt as if he had been shot through the heart.</p> + +<p>"How was it? Well, pretty little Klárika there peppered the stew she was +making him with crows' claws."</p> + +<p>"I know otherwise," interrupted the ginger-bread baker. "Little Klári +put datura in the honeymead—the stuff they use for stupefying fish."</p> + +<p>"Well, of course, the gentleman must know best, for he has a gold watch +chain! They sent for the regimental surgeon from Újváros to dissect the +deceased csikós, and he found the claws in his inside. They put them in +spirits, to be produced as evidence at the trial!"</p> + +<p>"So you have killed the poor fellow! We didn't hear he died from the +poison, only went mad, and was sent up to Buda to have a hole bored in +his head, for all the strength of the poison had gone there."</p> + +<p>"Sent him up to Buda, did they? Sent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> him underground, you mean! Why, my +wife herself spoke to the very maker of imitation flowers who made those +strewn over Decsi's shroud. That is a fact!"</p> + +<p>"Now, now! Mistress Csikmak is here with her fried meat, and as she came +a day later from Debreczin, she must know the truth. Let us call her +in."</p> + +<p>But Mistress Csikmak, being unable to leave her frizzling pan, could +only give her opinion through the window. She, likewise, buried the +poisoned csikós. The Debreczin clerk had chanted over his grave, and the +priest had preached a farewell sermon.</p> + +<p>"And what happened to the girl?" inquired three voices at once.</p> + +<p>"The girl! She ran off with her lover—a cowboy; by whose advice she +poisoned the csikós. They are setting up a robber band together."</p> + +<p>Ferko Lacza listened quietly to all this.</p> + +<p>"Stuff and nonsense. Bosh!" exclaimed the ginger-bread baker, capping +her version. "I'm afraid you've not heard right, dear Mistress Csikmak. +They caught the girl directly, put her in irons, and brought her in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +between gendarmes. My lad was there when they took her to the +Town-House."</p> + +<p>Still the cowherd listened without stirring.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, amid great commotion, arrived the above-mentioned +laggard—young Mistress Pundor, she foremost, then the driver, lastly +the brother-in-law, dragging a large chest. How polite a language is +Hungarian, even an individual like the soap-making lady has her title of +respect, "ifjasszony" (young mistress).</p> + +<p>"Now Mistress Pundor will tell us what happened to the girl at the inn +who poisoned the csikós," cried everyone.</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course. Dear soul. Just let me get my breath a bit." With that +she sat down on the large chest, a chair or bench would have smashed to +atoms under her form.</p> + +<p>"Did they catch pretty Klári? or has she run away?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dears, why they have tried her already, condemned to death she +is, to-morrow they put her in the convict's cell, and the execution is +the day after. The headsman comes to-day from Szeged, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> they have +taken a room for him at the White Horse, because the folks at the Bull +refused him. 'Tis as true as I'm sitting here. I have it from the porter +himself, who comes to me for candles."</p> + +<p>"And what sort of death is she to have?"</p> + +<p>"Well, under the old rule—and richly she deserves it—they would set +her on straw and burn her. But seeing she is of the better class, and +her father of good family, they will only cut off her head. They +generally behead gentlefolk."</p> + +<p>"Ah, quit that, mistress," contradicted the ginger-bread man. "Do they +heed such things nowadays? Not a bit of it! Why, before '48, if I put on +my mantle with the silver buttons, they took me for—a gentleman, and +never asked me for toll on the bridge at Pest, but now I may wear my +mantle——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, drop your mantle with the silver buttons!" said the cloth merchant, +taking the word out of his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Let the young mistress here tell us what she has heard. What object +could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> the pretty lass have for contriving such a murder?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, 'tis a very strange business. One murder leads to another. A while +ago, a rich Moravian cattle-dealer came here buying cattle. He had much +money. Pretty Klári, there, talked it over with her lover, the cowherd, +and together they murdered the dealer, and threw him into the Hortobágy. +But the horseherd, who was also sweet on the girl, caught them at it, +and so first they divided the stolen money between them, and then +poisoned the csikós to put him out of the way."</p> + +<p>"And what about the cowherd then, has he been caught?" inquired the +bootmaker excitedly.</p> + +<p>"They would if they could, but he has vanished utterly. Gendarmes are +searching the whole puszta for him, and a price is set on his head. They +have stuck up his description, as I have read for myself, a hundred +dollars to whoever catches him alive. I know him well enough too!"</p> + +<p>Now, had Sándor Decsi been sitting there instead of Ferko Lacza, great +would have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> been the scene, for here was the moment for a real effective +bit of drama. To fling his loaded cudgel on the table, knock the chair +from under him, and shout out, "I am the herdsman on whose head they +have set a price. Which of you wants the hundred dollars?"</p> + +<p>Then the whole worthy company would have taken to their heels and fled, +some to the cellar, some up the chimney.</p> + +<p>But the cowboy was of a different temperament, and had been used all his +life to act with care and caution. Besides, his work among the cattle +had impressed upon him the imprudence of catching the bull by the horns.</p> + +<p>So leaning his elbows on the table, he asked calmly, "Would you then +recognise the herdsman from the description, mistress?"</p> + +<p>"Why not indeed! How could I help knowing him? He has bought my soap +often enough to be sure!"</p> + +<p>"But, dear me, ma'am," said the horse-cooper, who desired to display his +knowledge, "what use can a herdsman have for soap?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> Surely, all cowboys +wear blue shirts and breeches which never need washing, because the +linen has been first boiled in lard!"</p> + +<p>"Deary me! Sakes alive! Did you ever! So soap is only wanted for dirty +clothes, is it? A cowboy never shaves, does he? Perhaps he always wears +as long a beard as a Jew horse-cooper?"</p> + +<p>Everyone shrieked with laughter, much to the discomfiture of the snubbed +intruder.</p> + +<p>"Now, need I have exposed myself to that?" grumbled the unhappy man.</p> + +<p>"You don't happen to know the name," continued the herdsman, in a quiet +voice, "of that cowboy, mistress?"</p> + +<p>"Not know his name! It has but just slipped out of my mind. 'Tis on the +tip of my tongue, for I know him as well as my own child."</p> + +<p>"Is it Ferko Lacza?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, that's it. Why, you've taken it out of my mouth. Perhaps you +know him yourself?"</p> + +<p>But the herdsman refrained from announcing that he knew him as well as +his father's only son. Quietly knocking out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> the ashes from his pipe, he +refilled it, rose, and propped up his cudgel against the straw-bottomed +chair to show it was engaged, and no one else might occupy it. Then, +relighting his pipe at the solitary candle burning on the middle of the +table, he left the room. Those remaining made remarks about him.</p> + +<p>"Surely something heavy as lead is weighing on that man!"</p> + +<p>"I don't like the look of his eyes!"</p> + +<p>"Could he know aught about the csikós' murder, think you?"</p> + +<p>Again the horse-dealer committed the offence of meddling in the +discussion.</p> + +<p>"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "permit me to make the humble +observation that yesterday, when I was on the Ohát puszta, buying +horses, I there saw the murdered and poisoned Sándor Decsi, looking as +fresh and blooming as a rosy apple! He lassoed the colts for me. This is +as true as I live!"</p> + +<p>"<i>What?</i> And you let us sit here telling lies to one another?" stormed +the whole assembly. "Here, clear out; get away!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>No sooner said than done, they seized him by the collar and flung him +out of the room.</p> + +<p>The chucked-out traveller, smoothing his crumpled hat, spluttered and +swore, till he found a moral to fit the case.</p> + +<p>"Now, need I have exposed myself to that? What is the good of a Jew +speaking the truth?"</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the cowherd going to the cattle proposed to the Moravian +drovers that they should go inside for a change and drink a glass of +wine; he would watch the cows. The chair with the stick beside it was +his.</p> + +<p>While he watched he picked up a bit of "poor man's peat," stuffing it up +his coat sleeve. What could he want with it?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + + +<p>Lucky it is that no one outside the Hortobágy knows about this "poor +man's peat" which is gathered on the meadow-land. One thing is +certain—it is no lily-of-the-valley. It is the sole fuel of the puszta +herdsman, in fact, a sort of zoological peat.</p> + +<p>We remember the tale of the Hungarian landowner who, finding it +advisable to go abroad after the Revolution, chose free Switzerland as a +temporary place of residence. But his eyes never grew used to the high +mountains. Every evening, on withdrawing to his room, he would take a +piece of "peat," found on the pasture, and laying it on the hearth, +kindle it. Then, as he sat with closed eyes in the smell of the smoke, +he would once more fancy himself back on the wide, wide plains, among +the moving herds and tinkling cow bells, and all the rest for which his +soul longed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>. . . .</p> + +<p>Well, if this peat-smoke can exert such a strong influence on an +educated mind, how were it possible to doubt the following story?</p> + +<p>The travellers had to wait two more days at the Polgár ferry.</p> + +<p>On the third, about midnight, the ferry-man brought the glad tidings to +the expectant crowd, whose patience and provisions were alike exhausted, +that the Theiss had fallen greatly. The ferry-boat had been replaced, +and by morning they would be able to cross.</p> + +<p>Those with carts lost no time in running them on board, and arranging +them side by side. Next they took the horses. Then came the turn for the +cattle. Room was made for them with difficulty. The crush was great, but +mild, after all, to what theatre-goers usually endure!</p> + +<p>Last of all, the bull, the terror of everyone, was brought, and now no +one remained but the herdsman and his horse. The two Moravian drovers +took their places between the cows and the carts. But as yet no start +could be made. The tow-rope was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> strained taut by the water, and they +were obliged to wait till the sunshine could relax it somewhat. Moisture +was rising like steam all along its surface.</p> + +<p>So the cowherd, wishing to utilise the time, suggested that the +ferry-man might cook them a "paprikás" of fish. Nothing else eatable was +to be had, but a pot was at hand, likewise plenty of fish, left by the +receding waters. The boatmen caught them by sticking an oar under their +gills—fat carp, silurius, and sturgeon. These they hastily cleaned, cut +up, and cast into the pot, underneath which a little fire was kindled.</p> + +<p>Now all was ready, when the question rose: "Who has 'paprika'?" Every +ordinary, self-respecting Hungarian carries his own supply in his +knapsack; but after a three days' famine even "paprika" will give out! +Nevertheless, no "paprika," no fish stew.</p> + +<p>"I have some," said the cowboy, and pulled a wooden box from his sleeve. +Every one noted what a far-seeing man he must be to reserve his own +"paprika" for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> last extremity, and henceforth regarded him as the +saviour of the party.</p> + +<p>The stew-pot was in the end of the ferry-boat, and to reach it the +herdsman traversed its whole length, the cattle being stationed about +the middle. But, then, who cares to let his box of "paprika" out of his +own hand? While the ferry-man was busy seasoning the fish with the red +pepper (Oken, writing about it, calls it <i>poison</i>; but that some wild +tribes dare to eat it), the cowboy took the opportunity to drop his +piece of "peat," unobserved into the fire.</p> + +<p>"I say! that 'paprikás' must be singeing! What a smell it has!" remarked +the cobbler presently.</p> + +<p>"Smell! Stink I would call it," corrected the itinerant cloak vendor.</p> + +<p>But the heavy greasy odour affected the noses of the cattle more +markedly. First, the bull grew restless, snuffed in the air, shook the +bell at his neck and lowed, then lowering his head and lifting his tail +began to bellow dangerously. At that the cows got excited, capered to +and fro, reared up on each others backs, and jostled to the side of the +ferry-boat.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>"Mother Mary! Holy Anna! Protect the ship!" shrieked the fat soap-maker.</p> + +<p>"Hurry up, mistress! seat yourself opposite. That will steady her +again," joked the shoemaker.</p> + +<p>But it was no joke. Every man on board had to clutch the rope to keep +the ferry-boat from tilting over; the other side dipped nearly to the +water.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the bull gave a bellow, and with one great bound, jumped into +the river. Another moment, and everyone of the four and twenty cows had +followed him over the edge.</p> + +<p>The ferry was just about half-way across.</p> + +<p>"Turn back! Turn back!" screamed the Moravian drovers, as the cattle +swam straight towards the bank they had left. They wanted the ferry-boat +to return instantly, that they might go after their beasts.</p> + +<p>"The devil a bit of turning back!" shrieked the market folk. "We must +cross! We are late enough for the fair as it is!"</p> + +<p>"No need to howl, lads," said the herds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>man, with exceeding calm. "I'll +bring them to their right minds."</p> + +<p>He jumped on his horse, led it along to the end of the ferry, and +sticking spurs into its sides, leapt over the rail into the water.</p> + +<p>"See, the cowherd will overtake them, no fear!" So the cobbler assured +the despairing drovers.</p> + +<p>But the horse-cooper, left behind on the bank, for he had not managed to +find room for his horses on board, nor had wished to frighten them among +so many cattle, was of a contrary opinion.</p> + +<p>"You'll never see more of that herd!" he yelled to the travellers on the +ferry-boat. "You may whistle for them!"</p> + +<p>"There goes that Jonah again! Where is there a ham bone to shoot him +with?" stormed the cobbler.</p> + +<p>The herd neared the bank in straggling order, and reaching the shallows, +waded out to dry land. The herdsman was behind, for cattle swim faster +than a horse. When he too landed, he undid the stock-whip from his neck +and cracked it loudly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>"There! He's turning them!" said the market people to console the +drovers.</p> + +<p>But the cracking of a whip only serves to make cattle run on the faster.</p> + +<p>The passengers found much exercise for their wit in this cattle +incident. The ferry-men assured them with oaths that it was not the +first time by any means that it had happened. Beasts brought from the +Hortobágy so often were assailed by home sickness that no sooner was the +ferry-boat put in motion than they would turn restive and spring +overboard, swim to the bank, and run back to the puszta.</p> + +<p>"Men have the same love of home and country," said the ginger-bread man, +who, having often read of it in books, recognised the complaint.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes!" exclaimed Mistress Pundor, "no doubt the cows have gone home +to their little calves. That was the mistake, to separate the children +from their dear mothers!"</p> + +<p>"Now my idea is different," said the cobbler, who was nothing if not +sceptical. "I have heard often enough that those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> cunning betyárs, when +they want to scatter a herd, put some grease in their pipes. The beasts, +when they smell it, go stark, staring mad, and scuttle away in all +directions. Then it is easy enough for the betyár to catch a nice little +lot for himself. Now I scent something of the sort in this business."</p> + +<p>"What you smell something, Daddy, and you don't run away from it?"</p> + +<p>Everyone laughed.</p> + +<p>"Wait a bit! Just you wait till we get on shore!" said the cobbler.</p> + +<p>The Moravian drovers, however, saw nothing laughable in the vagaries of +their herd, nor even matter suitable for a discussion on natural +history, but began howling and lamenting like burnt-out gypsies.</p> + +<p>The old ferry-man, who talked Slav, attempted to console them. "Now +don't howl, lads. 'Nye stekat.' He's not stolen your cows, the good +herdsman. Those two letters, 'D.T.,' on the copper plate at the side of +his cap don't mean 'dastard, thief,' but Debreczin Town. He can't run +off with them. When we come over again<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> they'll all be standing there in +a group. He'll drive them back, sure enough. Why even his dog went after +him! But when we take the cattle on board again we must fasten the cows +three together, and tie the bull by the horns to that iron ring. It will +be all right, only you must pay the passage money twice."</p> + +<p>A good hour and a half elapsed before the ferry-boat reached the other +bank, unloaded, reloaded, and returned to the Hortobágy side of the +river. Then the drovers ran up the hill to the ferry-house, and sought +their cattle everywhere. But none were to be seen.</p> + +<p>The horse-dealer said that the angry beasts had galloped madly past +towards the brushwood, and had quickly disappeared among the willows. +They did not go towards the high road, but ran down wind, heads to the +ground, tails up, like beasts attacked by a plague of flies.</p> + +<p>A belated potter, coming up from Újváros with a crockery-laden cart, +related how somewhere on the puszta he had met with a herd of cattle, +which with a horse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>man and dog at their heels, had dashed roaring along, +towards the Zám hills. Coming to the Hortobágy river, they had all +jumped in, and he had lost sight of both rider and cows among the thick +reeds.</p> + +<p>The ferry-man turned to the gaping drovers,</p> + +<p>"Now you <i>may</i> howl, countrymen!" he said.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + + +<p>The Ohát puszta is the pasture ground of the "mixed" stud. From the +corral in the centre, all round to the wide circle of horizon, nothing +can be seen but horses grazing. Horses of all colours, which only the +richness of the Hungarian language can find names for: bay, grey, black, +white-faced, piebald, dappled, chestnut, flea-bitten, strawberry, +skewbald, roan, cream-coloured, and, what is rarest among foals, +milk-white. Well does this variety of shade and colour deserve to be +called the "mixed" herd. A gentleman's stud is something very different, +there only horses of one breed and colouring are to be found.</p> + +<p>All the horse owners in Debreczin turn out their mares here, where, +summer or winter, they never see a stable, and only the head csikós +keeps account of their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> yearly increase. Here, too, the famous pacers +are raised, which are sought for from afar; for not every horse can +stand a sandy country, a mountain-bred one, for example, collapses if it +once treads an Alföld road.</p> + +<p>Scattered groups are to be seen grazing industriously round the +stallions. For the horse is always feeding. Learned men say that when +Jupiter created Minerva, he cast this curse on the horse, that it might +always eat, yet never be filled.</p> + +<p>Four or five mounted csikós watch over the herd, with its thousand or so +unruly colts, and use their thick stock-whips to drive back the more +adventurous.</p> + +<p>The arrangement here is the same as with the cattle herd, the "karám" or +shanty, kitchen, wind shelter and well. Only, there is neither +barrow-boy, nor "poor man's peat," nor protecting watch-dog, for the +horse cannot endure any of the canine tribe, and whether it be dog or +wolf, both get kicked.</p> + +<p>Noon was approaching, and the widely scattered troops of horses began to +draw towards the great well. Two carriages were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> also nearing from the +direction of the Hortobágy bridge. The head csikós, a thick-set, bony +old man, shading his eyes with his hand, recognised the new-comers from +afar—by their horses.</p> + +<p>"One is Mr. Mihály Kádár, the other, Pelikan, the horse-dealer. I knew, +when I looked in my calendar, that they would honour me to day."</p> + +<p>"Then, is that written in the calendar?" asked Sándor, the herdsman, +surprised.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my boy! Everything is in 'Csathy's Almanack.' The Onod cattle +market is on Sunday, and Pelikan must take horses there."</p> + +<p>His prognostications were correct. The visitors had come about horses, +Mr. Mihály Kádár, being the seller, and Mr. Samuel Pelikan, the buyer.</p> + +<p>Surely everyone can recognise Mr. Mihály Kádár—a handsome, round-faced +man, with his smiling countenance and waxed moustache, and figure +curving outwards at the waist. He wore a braided mantle, a round hat, +and held a long, thin walking-stick, the top carved to represent a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +bird's head. His was the group of horses standing beside the pool, with +the roan stallion leading them.</p> + +<p>Samuel Pelikan was a bony individual, with a large, crooked nose, long +beard and moustache, his back and legs somewhat bent from continually +trying of horses. There was a crane's feather in his high, wide-brimmed +hat, his waistcoat was checked, his jacket short, and his baggy, nankeen +trousers tucked into his top-boots. A cigar case was pushed into his +side pocket, and he carried a long riding-whip.</p> + +<p>These gentlemen, leaving their carriages, walked to the "karám" and +shook hands with the overseer, who awaited them there. Then an order was +given to the herdsmen, and they all went out to the herd.</p> + +<p>Two mounted csikós, with tremendous cracking of whips, rounded up the +lot of horses, among which were Mr. Kádár's. There were about two +hundred colts in all, some of which had never felt the hand of man. As +they drove them in a long curved line before the experts, the +horse-dealer pointed out a galloping roan mare to the herdsman on the +grass at his side.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>"I would like that one!"</p> + +<p>Thereupon, Sándor Decsi, casting aside jacket and cloak, seized the +coiled-up lasso in his right hand, wound the other end round his left, +and stepped towards the advancing herd. Swift as lightning, he flung out +the long line at the chosen mare, and with mathematical precision the +noose caught its neck instantly, half throttling it. The other colts +rushed on neighing; the prisoner remained, tossed its head, kicked, +reared, all in vain. There stood the man, holding on to the lasso, as if +made of cast-iron, and with his loose sleeves slipping back, he +resembled one of those ancient Greek or Roman statues—"the +Horse-Tamers." Gradually, in spite of all resistance, and pulling hand +over hand, he hauled in the horse. Its eyes protruded, the nostrils were +dilated, its breathing came in gasps. Then flinging his arms round its +neck, the csikós whispered something in its ear, loosened the noose from +its neck, and the wild, frightened animal became straightway as gentle +as a lamb, readily resigning its head to the halter. They fastened it +directly to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> the horse-cooper's trap, who hastened to reconcile his +victim with a piece of bread and salt.</p> + +<p>This athletic display was three times repeated; nor did Sándor Decsi +once bungle his work. But it happened the fourth time, that the noose +was widely distended, and slipped down to the horse's chest. Not being +choked, it did not yield so easily; but commenced kicking and capering, +and dragged the csikós, at the other end of the line, quite a +considerable distance. But he put forth his strength at last, and led +the captive before his owners.</p> + +<p>"Truly that is a finer amusement than playing billiards in the 'Bull,'" +said Pelikan, turning to Mr. Kádár.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's his only work!" returned the worthy civilian.</p> + +<p>The horse-dealer, opening his cigar case, offered one to the herdsman. +Sándor Decsi took it, struck a match, lit up, and puffed away.</p> + +<p>The four raw colts were distributed round the purchaser's carriage; two +behind, one beside the near, and the fourth beside the off horse.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>"Well, my friend, you're a great, strong fellow!" observed Mr. Pelikan, +lighting himself a cigar from Sándor's.</p> + +<p>"Yes! If he had not been ill!" grumbled the overseer.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't ill!" bragged the herdsman, and tossed back his head +contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"What on earth, were you then? When a man lies three days in the Mata +Hospital——"</p> + +<p>"How can a man lie in the Mata Hospital? It is only for horses!"</p> + +<p>"What were you doing then?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Drunk!</i>" said Sándor Decsi. "As a man has a right to be!"</p> + +<p>The old man twisted his moustache, and muttered, half-pleased, +half-vexed, "There, you see these 'betyárs'! Not for all the world would +they confess anything had ailed them."</p> + +<p>Then the time for payment came round.</p> + +<p>They settled the price of the four young horses at eight hundred +florins.</p> + +<p>Mr. Pelikan took from his inner pocket a square folded piece of +crocodile leather, this was his purse, and selected a paper from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +pile it contained. There was not a single bank-note, only bills, filled +in and blank.</p> + +<p>"I never carry money about me," said the horse-dealer, "only these. They +can steal these if they like, the thieves would only lose by it."</p> + +<p>"Which I will accept," said Mr. Kádár in his turn. "Mr. Pelikan's +signature is as good as ready-money."</p> + +<p>Pelikan had brought writing materials, a portable inkstand in his +trouser pocket, and a quill pen in his top-boot.</p> + +<p>"We'll soon have a writing-table, too," he remarked, "if you will kindly +bring us your horse here, herdsman."</p> + +<p>The saddle of Decsi's horse came in very handy as a table on which to +fill in the bill. The herdsman watched with the greatest interest.</p> + +<p>And not alone the herdsman, but the horses also. Those same wild colts +which had been scared four times and from whose midst four of their +comrades had just been lassoed, crowded round like inquisitive children, +and without the slightest fear. (It is true Mr. Mihály Kádár was bribing +them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> with Debreczin rolls.) One dapple bay actually laid its head on +the dealer's shoulder and looked on in wonder. None of them had ever +seen a bill filled in before.</p> + +<p>It is probable that Sándor Decsi expressed the silent thought of each, +when he inquired, "Why do you write 812 florins 18 kreuzers, sir, when +the price was settled at eight hundred florins?"</p> + +<p>"Well, herdsman, the reason is that I must pay the sum in ready-money. +Worthy Mr. Kádár here will write his name on the back, and then the bill +will be 'endorsed.' To-morrow morning he will take it to the Savings +Bank, where they will pay out eight hundred florins, but deduct twelve +florins—eighteen kreuzers—as discount, and, therefore, I don't require +to pay the money for three months."</p> + +<p>"And if you do not repay it, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Why, then, they will take it out of Mr. Kádár. That is why they give me +credit."</p> + +<p>"I see. So that is the good of a bill of exchange?"</p> + +<p>"Did you never see a bill before?" asked Mr. Pelikan.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>Sándor Decsi laughed loud, till his row of fine white teeth flashed.</p> + +<p>"A csikós, and a bill!"</p> + +<p>"Well, your worthy friend, Mr. Ferko Lacza is quite another gentleman, +and he is only a cowherd. He knows what a bill means. I have just such a +long paper of his, if you would like to see it."</p> + +<p>He searched among his documents, and holding one before the csikós, +finally handed him the paper. The bill amounted to ten florins.</p> + +<p>"Does Mr. Pelikan know the cowboy?" asked the astonished csikós.</p> + +<p>"As far as I know, you do not deal with cattle, sir."</p> + +<p>"It is not I, but my wife who has that honour. You see she carries on a +little goldsmith business on her own account. I don't meddle in it at +all. About two months ago, in comes Mr. Ferko Lacza with a pair of +ear-rings, which he wants gilded, very heavily gilded too!"</p> + +<p>Sándor started at that, as if a wasp had stung him.</p> + +<p>"Silver ear-rings?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>"Yes, very pretty silver, filagree ear-rings, and the gilding came to +ten florins. When done, off he went with them—they were certainly not +for his own use—and as he had no money he left this bill behind him. On +Demeter day he is to meet it."</p> + +<p>"This bill?"</p> + +<p>Sándor Decsi stared blankly at the paper, and his nostrils quivered. He +might have been laughing from the grin on his face, only the writing +shook in his two hands. He did not let go of it, but grasped it tightly.</p> + +<p>"As the bill appears to please you so well, I will give it you as a +tip," said Mr. Pelikan, in a sudden fit of generosity.</p> + +<p>"But ten florins, sir, that is a great deal!"</p> + +<p>"Of course, it is a great deal for you, and I am no such duffer as to +chuck away ten florins every time I buy a horse. But to tell the truth, +I should be glad to get rid of the bill under such good auspices, like +the shoemaker and his vineyard in the story——"</p> + +<p>"Is there something false in it, then?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>"No, nothing false, only too much truth in fact. See, I will explain it +to you, please look here. On this line stands 'Mr. Ferencz Lacza,' then +comes 'residence,' and after that 'payable in.' Now, in both places +'Debreczin' should be written, but that idiotic wife of mine put +'Hortobágy' instead—which is true enough—for Mr. Ferko Lacza does live +on the Hortobágy. Had she written, 'Hortobágy inn' even, I should have +known where to find him, but how can I go roaming about the Hortobágy, +and the Zám puszta, searching the 'karáms' of goodness knows how many +herds, and risking my calves among the watch-dogs? I have fought with +the woman quite enough about it. Now, at least, I can say I have handed +it over at cent. per cent. interest, and we will have no more rows. So +accept it, herdsman. You will know how to get the ten florins out of the +cowboy, for you fear neither himself nor his dog."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir, thank you very, very much."</p> + +<p>The csikós folded up the paper and stowed it away in his jacket pocket.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>"The young man seems deeply grateful for the ten florin tip," whispered +Mr. Kádár to the overseer. "Generosity brings its own reward."</p> + +<p>Mr. Mihály Kádár was a great newspaper reader, and took the <i>Sunday +News</i> and the <i>Political Messenger</i>; hence his lofty style of speech.</p> + +<p>"That hasn't much to do with his gladness," growled the overseer. "He +knows well enough that Ferko Lacza went off to Moravia last Friday; +small chance of seeing him or his blessed ten florins again! But he is +glad to be clear about the ear-rings, for there is a girl in that +business."</p> + +<p>Mr. Kádár raised the bird's-head top of his cane to his lips +significantly.</p> + +<p>"Aha!" he murmured, "that entirely alters the case!"</p> + +<p>"You see the boy's my godson, and I'm fond enough of the cub. No one can +manage the herd as he does, and I did my best to free him from +soldiering. Ferko is the godchild of my old friend, the cattle overseer, +and a good lad also. Both would be the best friends in the world,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> if +the devil, or goodness knows what evil fate, hadn't thrown that +pale-faced girl in between them. Now they are ready to eat each other. +Luckily my old friend had a capital idea, and has sent Ferko to be head +herdsman to a Moravian Duke. So peace will once more reign on the +Hortobágy."</p> + +<p>Sándor guessed from the whispering that it was of him they were talking, +and turned away. Eavesdropping is not congenial to the Hungarian nature. +So he drove the herd to the watering-place, where the other horses were +already assembled. Five herdsmen there were, three well-poles, one +thousand and fifty horses. Each csikós had to lower the pole, fill the +bucket, raise the bucket and empty it into the trough, exactly two +hundred and ten times. This is their daily amusement, three times +repeated, and they certainly cannot complain of lack of exercise!</p> + +<p>Sándor Decsi, let no one notice that anything had gone amiss with him. +He was merry as a lark, and sang and whistled all day long, till the +wide plain resounded with his favourite song:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +<span class="i0q">"Poor and nameless though I be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My six black horses I'll drive along.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My six black horses are good to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the puszta lad is ruddy and strong."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>First one, then another csikós caught up the air, filling the whole +puszta with their singing. The next day he seemed just as gay, from dawn +till dark, as good-humoured in fact, "as one who feels himself fey."</p> + +<p>After sundown the herds were driven to their night quarters near the +"karám," where they would keep together till morning.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the boy brought the bundles of "cserekely," that is, +down-trodden reeds, which serve to light the herdsman's fire and to warm +up his supper in the kitchen. Very different is the cowherd's meal to +that of the csikós. Here is no stolen mutton or pork, such as the csikós +of the stage love to talk about. All the swine and flocks pasture on the +far side of the Hortobágy river, and it would be a day's journey for the +aspiring csikós desirous of bagging a little pig or yearling lamb. +Neither is there any of the carrion stew known to and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> spoken of by the +cowboy. The overseer's wife in the town cooks provisions for the +herdsmen enough to last a week. As to the fare, any gentleman could sit +down to it—sour rye soup, pork stew, "Calvanistic Heaven," or stuffed +cabbage, larded meat. All five csikós sup together with the old +herdsman, nor is the serving lad forgotten.</p> + +<p>A herd of horses differs from a herd of cows after nightfall. Once the +cows have been watered, they all settle down in a mass to chew their +cud, but the horse is no such philosopher. He feeds on into the night, +and as long as there is moon, keeps munching grass incessantly.</p> + +<p>Sándor Decsi was in a gay mood that evening, and as they sat round the +glowing fire, he asked the overseer, "Dear godfather, how comes it that +a horse can eat all day long? If the meadows were covered with cakes, I +could never go on stuffing the whole day!"</p> + +<p>"Well, godson, I can tell you, only you must not laugh. It is an old +tale and belongs to the days when students wore three-cornered hats. I +had it from such an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> inkslinger myself, and may his soul suffer, if +every word of it be not true! Once upon a time there was a very famous +saint called Martin—he is still about, only nowadays he never comes to +the Hortobágy. We know he was a Hungarian saint too, because he always +went on horseback. Then there was a King here, and his name was Horse +Marot. They called him that because he once managed to cheat Saint +Martin of the steed which used to carry him about the world. Saint +Martin was his guest, and he tied up his steed in the stable yard. Then +one morning early, when Saint Martin wanted to set off on his travels, +he said to the King: 'Now give me my horse, and let me start!' +'Impossible,' said the King, 'the horse is just eating.' Saint Martin +waited till noon, then he asked for it again. 'You can't go now,' said +the King, 'the horse is eating.' Saint Martin waited till sunset, then +urged the King once more for his horse. 'I tell you, you can't have your +horse, because it's <i>still eating</i>!' Then Saint Martin grew angry, cast +his little book on the ground,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> and cursed the King and the horse. 'May +the name of 'Horse' stick to you for ever! May you never be free of it, +but may the two names be said in one breath! As for the horse, may it +graze the livelong day yet never be filled!' Since then the horse is +always eating, yet never has enough. And you, if you don't believe this +story, go to the land of Make-believe, and there on a peak you will find +a blind horse. Ask him. He can tell you better maybe, seeing he was +there himself."</p> + +<p>All the csikós thanked the old man for the pleasant tale. Then each +hastened to find his horse, and to trot away through the silent night to +his own herd.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + + +<p>It was a lovely spring evening. The sunset glow lingered long in the +sky, till night drew on her garment of soft fleecy mists lying all round +the horizon.</p> + +<p>The sickle of the new moon grazed the Zám Hill, with the lovers' star +shining radiant just above—that star which rises so early and sets so +soon!</p> + +<p>Some distance from the herd, the csikós sought out a resting-place for +the night, and there carefully unsaddled his horse and removed the +bridle from its head, hanging it on his stick, rammed into the ground. +Then he spread the saddle-cloth over the saddle; this was his pillow; +his covering the embroidered "szür." But first he broke up some bread, +left from his supper, and gave it, in his hand, to the horse.</p> + +<p>"Now you may go and graze also, little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> Vidám (Vidám means gay and +lively). You do not feed all day long like the others! You are always +saddled, and yet, after you have been ridden the whole day, they want to +put you to the machine, and make you draw water. Well, they can want! Do +they fancy that 'a horse is as much a dog as a man'?"</p> + +<p>Then he gently wiped the horse's eyes with his loose sleeve.</p> + +<p>"Now, go and search out good grass for yourself; but don't go far! When +the moon has sunk, and with her that shining star, then come back here. +See, I don't tether you like a cowherd does, nor shackle your feet as +peasants do. 'Tis enough for me to call, 'Here, Vidám!' and you are here +directly."</p> + +<p>Vidám understood. Why not? Freed from saddle and bridle, he gave a jump, +kicked up his hind legs, threw himself on the ground, and rolled over +and over several times with his heels to the sky. Then regaining his +feet, he shook his mane, neighed once, and started off for the flowery +pastures, snorting and flicking his long tail<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> to keep off the humming +night insects. The csikós meanwhile lay down on his grassy bed. What a +splendid couch! For pillow the wide circle of plain, and for curtains +the star-strewn sky!</p> + +<p>It was late already. Nevertheless, the earth, like a restless, naughty +child, refused to slumber yet. Could not sleep in fact. Everywhere there +was sound, soft, indistinct, and full of mystery. The pealing of bells +from the town, or the barking of dogs with the cattle were too far away +to be heard here. But the bittern boomed among the reeds hard by, like a +lost soul, the reed-warbler, the nightingale of the marsh, gurgled and +twittered with thousands of frogs to swell the chorus; and through it +all came the monotonous clack of the Hortobágy mill. High overhead +sounded the mournful wail of flights of wild geese and cranes, flying in +long lines, scarcely to be distinguished against the sky. Here and there +a dense cloud of gnats whirled into the air, making a ghostly whirring +music. Now and then a horse neighed.</p> + +<p>Poor lad! formerly your head would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> hardly touch the saddle before you +were fast asleep, now you can only gaze and gaze at the dark blue sky +overhead, and the stars, whose names your old godfather taught you. +There in the midst is the Pole Star, which never moves from its place; +those two are the "Herdsman's Team," while that with the changing colour +is the "Eye of an Orphan Maid." The brilliant one, just over the +horizon, is the "Reaper's Star;" still the "Wanderer's Lamp" is +brighter. Those three are the "Three Kings," that cluster the "Seven +Sisters," and the star which is sinking into the mist is called the +"Window of Heaven."</p> + +<p>But why look at the stars when one cannot speak to them? A heavy load +weighs down the heart, a cruel wound makes the soul bleed. If one could +pour out the bitterness, if one could complain, perhaps it might be +easier. But how vast is the puszta and how void!</p> + +<p>The shining star set, also the moon. The horse left the pasture and +returned to its master. Very gently he stepped along, as if fearing to +wake him, and stretching out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> his long neck, bent his head over him to +see if he slept.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not asleep. Come here, old fellow," said the csikós.</p> + +<p>At that the horse began to whinny joyously, and lay down near his +master.</p> + +<p>The herdsman raised himself on his elbows, and rested his head on his +hand. Here was someone to speak with—an intelligent beast.</p> + +<p>"You see!" he said. "You see, my Vidám? That is the way with a girl! +Outside gold, inside silver. When she speaks the truth it is half false; +when she lies it is half true! No one will ever learn to understand +her. . . . You know how much I loved her! . . . How often I made your +sides bleed as I spurred you on to carry me the quicker to her! . . . +How often I tied you up at the door in snow and mud, in freezing cold +and burning sunshine! I never thought of you, my dear old horse, only of +how I loved her!"</p> + +<p>The horse seemed to laugh at the notion of not remembering. Of course +his master had done so.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>"And you know how much she loved me! . . . How she stuck roses behind +your ears, plaited your mane with ribbons, and fed you with sweet cakes +from her own hand! . . . How often she drew me back with her kisses, +even from the saddle, and hugged your neck that I might remain the +longer!"</p> + +<p>Vidám answered him with a low whinny. Certainly the girl had done all +that.</p> + +<p>"Till that confounded beggar slunk in and stole half her heart. If he +had but stolen the whole of it! Taken her to himself and gone off with +her! But to leave her here; half a heavenly blessing and half a deadly +curse——"</p> + +<p>The horse evidently wanted to comfort him, and laid his head on his +master's knee.</p> + +<p>"Strike him, God!" muttered the csikós in an agony of grief. "Do not +leave the man unpunished who has plucked another's rose for himself. Did +I kill him, I know his mother would weep!"</p> + +<p>The horse lashed the ground with his tail, as had his master's rage been +transmitted to him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>"But how can I kill him? He is over the hills and far away by now! And +you are not able, my poor Vidám, to fly all over the kingdom with me. +No, you must stay here with me in my trouble."</p> + +<p>Nothing Vidám could do indeed could alter the situation. So he signified +his acquiescence in the harsh decree of fate by lying down and +stretching out his great head and neck.</p> + +<p>But the csikós would not let him turn his thoughts to slumber, he had +yet something to tell him. A smacking of the lips, very like a kiss, +aroused the horse.</p> + +<p>"Don't sleep yet. . . . . I'm not sleeping. We'll have time enough some +day when we take our long rest! . . . . Till then we'll keep together we +two. . . . . Never shall you leave your master. . . . . Never will he +part with you, not though they offer him your weight in gold . . . . my +one faithful friend! Do you know how you caught hold of my waistcoat and +helped the doctor to lift me up from the ground when I lay on the puszta +as good as dead, with the eagles<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> shrieking over me? You seized my +clothes with your teeth, and raised me, you did! . . . . Yes? . . . . +You know all about it? . . . . my darling! Do not fear, we will never +cross the Hortobágy bridge again, never turn in at the Hortobágy inn. +. . . . I swear it, here, by the starry sky, that never, never, <i>never</i> +will I step over the threshold where that false girl dwells. . . . . May +the stars cease to shine on me, if I break my word——"</p> + +<p>At this great oath the horse stood up on his fore-feet, and sat like a +dog on his hindquarters.</p> + +<p>"But don't think we will grow old here," went on the csikós, "we are not +going to stick for ever on this meadow-land. When I was a little child I +saw beautiful tri-colour banners waving, and splendid Hussars dashing +after them. . . . . How I envied them! . . . . Then later, I saw those +same Hussars dying and wounded, and the beautiful tri-colour flag +dragged through the mire, . . . . but that will not always last. There +will come a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> day when we will bring out the old flag from under the +eaves, and ride after it, brave young lads, to crack the bones of those +wicked Cossacks! And you will come with me, my good old horse, at the +trumpet's call."</p> + +<p>As if he heard the trumpet sounding, Vidám sprang up, pawed the turf +with his forefeet, and, with mane bristling and head erect, neighed into +the night. Like the outposts of the camp, all the stallions on the +puszta neighed back an answer.</p> + +<p>"There we'll put an end to this business! . . . . There we'll heal the +sorrow and the bitterness, though not by shedding tears! Not the +poisoned glass of a faithless maid, nor her more poisonous kisses will +destroy this body of mine, but the swordthrust of a worthy foe. Then as +I lie on the bloody battle-field, you will be there, standing beside me, +and watching over me, till they come to bury me."</p> + +<p>And as though to test the fidelity of his horse, the lad pretended to be +dead, threw himself limply on the grass, and stretched his arms stark +and stiff at his sides.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>The horse looked at him for a second, and seeing his master motionless, +stepped up with his ears flattened back, and began rubbing his nose +against his master's shoulder, then as he did not move, trotted noisily +round him. When the clatter of hoofs still failed to waken his master, +the horse stood over him, fastened his teeth in the cloak buckled over +his shoulders, and began to lift him, till at last the csikós ended the +joke by opening his eyes and hugging Vidám with both arms round his +neck.</p> + +<p>"You are my only true comrade!"</p> + +<p>And the horse really laughed! Bared his gums to express his joy, and +pranced and capered like any foolish little foal, in his high joy at +finding that this dying was only mere fun and pretence. Finally he lay +down and stretched himself on the grass. Now <i>he</i> was cheating his +master and pretending to be dead. Now the herdsman might talk to him and +smack his lips all in vain. Vidám would not budge.</p> + +<p>So when the csikós laid down his head on the horse's neck, it did very +well as a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> pillow. Vidám raised his head, saw that his master was +asleep, and did not make a move till break of dawn.</p> + +<p>Even then he would not have stirred, had not his ear been caught by a +sudden sound.</p> + +<p>Giving a loud snort he woke his master. The csikós jumped from his couch +and the horse stood up.</p> + +<p>Day was dawning already, and in the east the sky was golden. In the +distance the dark form of an approaching horse was visible through the +shadowy mist. It was riderless. This is what Vidám had scented.</p> + +<p>It was probably a strayed animal, escaped from some herd. For in +spring-time, when the fit seizes them, the cowboys' horses, weary of +their lonely life among the cattle, and if only they can succeed in +breaking their tether, will run, following the scent, to the nearest +stud. There a fight takes place, that usually ends badly for the +intruders, who are not even shod as are the other horses.</p> + +<p>So the runaway would have to be caught.</p> + +<p>Hastily bridling his horse, and throwing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> the saddle on his back, the +csikós held the lasso in readiness, and galloped towards the ownerless +steed.</p> + +<p>But no lasso was needed for its capture! As it neared, it headed of its +own accord straight to the csikós, and gave a joyful neigh, to which +Vidám responded—these were old acquaintances!</p> + +<p>"Now what can this mean?" exclaimed the herdsman, "surely this is very +like Ferko's white-faced bay! Yet that must be in Moravia!"</p> + +<p>His wonder increased when the two horses meeting, exchanged friendly +grunts and began lovingly snuffing each other's chests.</p> + +<p>"It is Ferko's horse! There are his initials, 'F.L.,' and for stronger +proof, here is actually the scar of the kick it got as a colt!"</p> + +<p>The bay had brought the rope along with it, also the peg which it had +torn from the ground.</p> + +<p>"How come you on the Hortobágy, eh! whiteface?" asked Sándor, while the +runaway let him catch it easily enough by the halter still knotted to +its head.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>"Whence come you? Where is your master?"</p> + +<p>But this horse was not in sympathy with him, and did not understand his +questions. What can one expect of a horse that spends its life in the +company of cattle?</p> + +<p>The csikós led his captive to the corral, and there shut it in.</p> + +<p>Then he recounted the affair to the overseer.</p> + +<p>But as the day advanced, so too did light break on the mystery. From the +Zám puszta came the barrow-boy, tearing along in such a hurry that he +had even forgotten his cap.</p> + +<p>He recognised Sándor Decsi from afar, and made straight for him.</p> + +<p>"Morning, Sándor bácsi ('bácsi,' uncle, is a title of respect applied to +one's elders. Trans.) Did the bay come here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. How did it get loose?"</p> + +<p>"Had a mad fit. Neighed the whole day. When I tried to groom it, nearly +knocked out my eyes with its tail. Then broke loose in the night, and +went off with the halter. I've been looking for it ever since.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>"</p> + +<p>"And where is its master, then?"</p> + +<p>"He's still sleeping—the exertion has quite knocked him up!"</p> + +<p>"What exertion?"</p> + +<p>"Why, what happened three days back. What, you've not heard of it, +Sándor bácsi? How the cows, that the Moravian gentry bought, lost their +heads at the Polgár ferry, and slap-bang, bull and all, jumped over the +side of the ferry-boat, and tore straight home to the Zám herd. The +cowboy could not turn them. He was obliged to come back with them +himself."</p> + +<p>"So Ferko Lacza is at home again?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but a little more and the overseer would have killed him outright! +No, I <i>never</i> heard the overseer curse and swear as he did that evening +when the herd came rushing over the puszta, Ferko bácsi at their heels. +The foam dripped off the horse, and the bull's nose was bleeding. The +air was just thick with 'devils,' and 'damns,' and 'gallows-trees!' He +raised his stick twice to strike the cowboy too, and it swished through +the air. 'Tis a marvel he did not beat him."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>"And what did Ferko say?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing much, only that he couldn't help it, if the beasts chose to go +mad.</p> + +<p>"'You have bewitched them, you devil!' said the overseer.</p> + +<p>"'Why should I do that?' says Ferko bácsi.</p> + +<p>"'Why? Because you've been bewitched yourself first. That "Yellow Rose" +has given you a charm as she did to Sándor Decsi.'</p> + +<p>"Then they began talking about you, Sándor bácsi, but what I could not +hear, because they sent me off with a box on the ears, and 'pray what +was I listening for? It was none of my business.'"</p> + +<p>"So they spoke about me, did they? And about the 'Yellow Rose'?"</p> + +<p>"As if I knew or cared about their 'Yellow Rose'! But this I do know, +that last Friday when they drove off the cows, Ferko bácsi went into the +shanty to fetch his knapsack, and there he pulled out a coloured +kerchief from his sleeve, and in it a yellow rose was wrapped up. He +snuffed at it, and pressed it to his lips till I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> thought he was going +to eat it! Then he unpicked the lining of his cap, pushed in the rose +and put it on his head again. Perhaps that was the charm?"</p> + +<p>The csikós swinging the loaded end of his cudgel, struck a yellow +mullein standing in his path, scattering the blossoms far and wide.</p> + +<p>"What harm has the poor 'King's candle' done you?" asked the boy.</p> + +<p>But the intent of the blow had been in another direction.</p> + +<p>"And now what will happen?" questioned the csikós.</p> + +<p>"Well, yesterday, the Moravian drovers turned up on foot, and they +discussed the matter with the overseer. So now the cows are to be driven +towards Tisza-Füred, and all their calves with them, for over the bridge +they surely can't jump! They say the cows ran back to their calves. But +Ferko Lacza only laughs to himself."</p> + +<p>"And will Ferko Lacza go with them this time?"</p> + +<p>"Apparently, since the master never gives him a moment's peace. But the +cow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>boy doesn't want to clear out just yet. He says the cattle must have +a day or two breathing time after their race, and he himself sleeps the +whole day like a log. Well, 'tis no joke to gallop from Polgár to Zám +puszta at one stretch! So the overseer has granted him two days' rest."</p> + +<p>"Two days? Two? Surely that is over much."</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"But I do—or else the two days will lengthen into a rest much longer!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I must hurry and get the bay home before they are up. Because +when the overseer swears at the herdsman, then the cowboy vents all his +rage on me. Just wait till I'm herdsman, and then I'll have a barrow-boy +of my own to knock about! God bless you, Sándor bácsi."</p> + +<p>"He has done that already."</p> + +<p>The little lad jumped on the bay, bareback as it was, and stuck his +naked feet into its sides. But the bay absolutely refused to stir, +turned suddenly right round, and tried to return to the stud. Finally +the csikós, taking pity on the boy, brought out his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> stock-whip, caught +it a good thwack in the hind-legs and cracked it two or three times, +whereupon the horse, lowering its head, set out full tilt over the +puszta, as straight as it could go. The boy had hard enough work to keep +his seat, clutching the mane with both hands. The csikós, meanwhile, was +quite clear as to his own course.</p> + +<p>"Tell Ferko Lacza that Sándor Decsi sends him his respects!" he shouted +out after the vanishing "taligás." But whether the boy heard this +message is doubtful.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + + +<p>Next day the csikós went into the "karám," and said to the head +herdsman,</p> + +<p>"I have some business on hand, godfather, may I take a half-holiday this +afternoon? By evening I will be back."</p> + +<p>"Certainly you can have leave, my son," replied the old man, "but on one +condition. Your are not to enter the Hortobágy inn. Do you understand +me?"</p> + +<p>"I give you my word of honour not to put a foot inside the Hortobágy +inn."</p> + +<p>"Very well, I know you will keep your word."</p> + +<p>But this, the csikós had omitted to add, "unless I am carried in on a +sheet."</p> + +<p>It was a hot sultry afternoon when he started, the sky was the colour of +buttermilk, and the air charged with moisture. The play of the mirage +seemed specially<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> fantastic. Not a bird sang overhead, but all sank +nestling in the grass. On the other hand the swarms of horse-flies, +gad-flies, and midges appeared more wickedly inclined than ever, and the +horse could only get along slowly, having to drive off the blood-thirsty +torments, now with its hind-foot, now with its head. Still it never +missed the path though the bridle lay slack between the csikós' fingers. +Man too feels the approach of a storm.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, as they reached that substantial triumph of Scythian +architecture—the Hortobágy bridge—the csikós started.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" he cried. "Here we can't go, old fellow. You know how I swore +by the starry heavens never to cross that bridge again."</p> + +<p>But never to <i>ford</i> the Hortobágy river was not included in his oath.</p> + +<p>So he turned down below the mill, and where the water widens into the +shallows, waded easily across. The horse had to swim a little, but the +herdsman took no heed of that; his fringed linen trousers would soon dry +in the hot sunshine.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>Then he trotted on to the Hortobágy inn. Here the horse tried to go at a +brisker pace, whinnying joyously the while. A glad neigh answered it, +for there, tied up to an acacia, stood its comrade—the white-faced bay.</p> + +<p>Properly speaking, the Hortobágy inn has no courtyard, for the wide +grassy expanse fronting house, stable, and sheds is without fence of any +sort. Still it serves as such. A table is put there, and two long +benches where the customers sit tippling under the trees.</p> + +<p>The csikós sprang from his horse, and tied it up to the other acacia, +not that same tree to which the white-faced bay was tethered.</p> + +<p>A couple of long-eared steeds were also meditating in the shade of the +garden paling, stretching out their necks for the overhanging sprays of +barberry, just out of their reach. Their riders were seated at the +table, under the acacia, with their fur-lined "bundas" slung over their +shoulders, inside out, despite the sweltering weather. In fact, they +wore them for shade. As they tippled away, drinking cheap acid stuff out +of green<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> glasses, they hummed an endless shepherd's song, monotonous +and wearisome. Both were shepherds, whose steed is the donkey.</p> + +<p>Sándor Decsi sat down at the further end of the bench, placed his cudgel +on the table, and studied the glittering clouds looming heavy on the +horizon, and the dark rim of earth beneath. A great yellow pillar rose +swirling in one quarter—the whirlwind. Meanwhile the shepherds sang:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"When the shepherd takes his glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad and mournful grows his ass.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cheer up, little donkey, grey!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behind the flock we'll ride away."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This was too much for the csikós to stand.</p> + +<p>"See, that's enough, Pista!" he snapped. "For goodness' sake stop that +doleful ditty, and get on your grey donkey and trundle after your flock +before you're too tipsy to move."</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear! Sándor Decsi does seem upset to-day!"</p> + +<p>"I'll upset you worse if you try aggravating me!" said the csikós, and +rolled up his shirt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> sleeves to his elbows. Now he was "ready" for +anyone who crossed his path.</p> + +<p>The shepherds whispered. Well they knew the puszta rule that when a +csikós sits at a table a shepherd may only squat down there with his +express permission. If he says, "Get out!" why then the shepherd has to +go.</p> + +<p>One of them rapped on the table with the bottom of his glass.</p> + +<p>"We had better pay, the storm is coming."</p> + +<p>The innkeeper's daughter came out at the sound. She made as if she did +not see the csikós at all, but attended to the two shepherds, counted up +the wine, gave them back the change out of their "dog-tongues," and +wiped the table where wine had been spilled. They mounted their donkeys, +and being once more in full security, rattled on with their song +defiantly:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"Wolves all fear my dogs so strong.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two lads lead the flock along.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I? Why I ride all the day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On my little donkey grey."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Only when they had quite taken themselves off did the girl address the +csikós.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>"Well, haven't you even 'good-day' for me, my dearest treasure?"</p> + +<p>"Sándor Decsi is my name," growled the herdsman savagely.</p> + +<p>"I beg your honour's pardon! Won't you please step into the tap-room, +sir?"</p> + +<p>"Thanks! I'm well enough out here."</p> + +<p>"There you would find fitting society."</p> + +<p>"So I see by the horse. He'll come out to me soon enough."</p> + +<p>"Well, what can I bring you? Red wine? White wine?"</p> + +<p>"No, I won't drink wine," said the csikós. "Bring me bottled beer."</p> + +<p>Bottled beer cannot be poisoned. Once the cork is drawn it all froths +out.</p> + +<p>The girl understood the insinuation. Crushing down the bitterness in her +heart she soon returned with a bottle, which she placed before the lad.</p> + +<p>"What is this?" he cried. "Am I a cobbler's apprentice, to have <i>one</i> +bottle brought me?"</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir. Please don't be angry. I'll bring more directly."</p> + +<p>This time she came back with a whole<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> bundle, and set all six in a row +before him.</p> + +<p>"That is better," said he.</p> + +<p>"Shall I draw the cork?"</p> + +<p>"Thanks! I can do it myself."</p> + +<p>He took the first bottle, broke off the neck against the edge of the +table, and poured the foaming beer into the tall glass beside him. It +costs more like this, because the broken bottle has to be paid for; but +then, "a gentleman is always the gentleman."</p> + +<p>The girl moved off airily, shaking her sides flippantly as she went. Her +golden ear-rings tinkled. Her hair was down again, no longer twisted +round the comb, and the ribbon ends fluttered coquettishly behind her. +"As thou to me. So I to thee."</p> + +<p>The csikós sat quietly drinking his beer, and the girl sang on the +verandah:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"Hadst thou known what I know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or whose sweetheart am I!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not alone would I weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou wouldst cry."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>At the fourth line the door was shut with a bang.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>By the time she reappeared again, three empty broken-necked bottles +stood on the table. Klári took them, picking up the broken bits of glass +into her apron.</p> + +<p>After the third bottle, the lad's humour had changed, and as the girl +fussed round him, he suddenly slipped his arm round her waist.</p> + +<p>She made no demur on her part.</p> + +<p>"Well, may one call you 'Sándor' again?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"You always could. What did you want to say?"</p> + +<p>"Did you ask anything?"</p> + +<p>"Why are your eyes so red?"</p> + +<p>"Because I am so happy. I have a suitor."</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"The old innkeeper at Vervölgy. He is a widower with lots of money."</p> + +<p>"Shall you accept him?"</p> + +<p>"Why not, if they take me to him? Let me go!"</p> + +<p>"<i>You lie, lie!</i> You cover up your lying, and so lie worse than ever!" +cried the lad.</p> + +<p>He removed his hand from the girl's waist.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>"Will you drink more?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"But you'll get fuddled from so much beer."</p> + +<p>"Much need of it too to quench the fire burning in me. See you give the +one in there plenty of strong wine. Heat him up with it, so that we may +match each other."</p> + +<p>But she took good care not to tell "the one inside" "about the other" +out here.</p> + +<p>The csikós took the matter into his own hands. He began to sing, +selecting the mocking air with which they are wont to tease the +cowherds:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0q">"Oh I am the Petri cowboy bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I guard the herd on the Petri wold.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My comrades can go<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Through the mire and snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lie on my feather-bed safe from cold."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Well thought! Hardly was the verse at an end before out came his man. In +one hand he carried his bottle of red wine, with the tumbler turned over +the top, in the other his cudgel. Setting down his wine opposite the +csikós, he next laid his cudgel beside the other one, and then took his +seat at the table exactly facing the other lad.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>They neither shook hands nor spoke a word of greeting. Each gave a +silent nod, like two between whom speech is unnecessary.</p> + +<p>"So you are back from your journey, comrade?" asked the csikós.</p> + +<p>"I'll be off again directly if I have the mind."</p> + +<p>"To Moravia?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if I don't change my plans."</p> + +<p>They both drank. After a pause the csikós began again.</p> + +<p>"Are you taking a wife with you this time?"</p> + +<p>"Where should I get a wife?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you. —— take your own mother!"</p> + +<p>"She wouldn't give up being a Debreczin market-woman for the whole of +Moravia!"</p> + +<p>They both drank again.</p> + +<p>"Well, have you bidden your mother farewell?" asked the csikós.</p> + +<p>"I have bidden her farewell."</p> + +<p>"And squared all your accounts with the overseer?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>"You owe <i>nobody</i> anything?"</p> + +<p>"What extraordinary questions you do ask to be sure!" exclaimed the +cowboy.</p> + +<p>"No, I am not in debt, even to the priest. What does it matter to you?"</p> + +<p>The csikós shook his head, and broke the neck of another bottle. He +wished to fill his friend's glass, but the cowboy placed his hand over +it.</p> + +<p>"You won't drink my beer?"</p> + +<p>"I'm keeping to the rule. Wine on beer—never fear. Beer on wine—no +time."</p> + +<p>The csikós poured himself out the whole bottle, and then began to +moralise (the not unfrequent result of beer-drinking).</p> + +<p>"See, comrade," he said, "there is no uglier sin in the world than +lying. I once lied myself, though not in my own defence, and it has +oppressed my soul ever since. Lying does well enough for shepherds, but +not for lads on horseback. The first shepherd of all was a liar. Jacob, +the patriarch, lied when he deceived his own father, making his hands +rough like Esau's. So little wonder if his followers, who keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> flocks, +should live by lies. It may suit a shepherd, but it is not for a +cowboy."</p> + +<p>The cowherd went into roars of laughter.</p> + +<p>"I say, Sándor, what a good parson you would make! You can preach as +well as the Whit-Sunday probationer at Balmaz Újváros."</p> + +<p>"Yes? Well, comrade, maybe you would not mind my turning out a good +preacher, but if I turned out a good lawyer, you might care more. So you +say you don't owe a crooked kreuzer to any human being?"</p> + +<p>"Not to any human soul."</p> + +<p>"Without lying?"</p> + +<p>"No need for it."</p> + +<p>"Then what is this? This long paper? Do you recognise it?"</p> + +<p>The csikós pulled out the bill from his pocket, and held it before his +companion's nose.</p> + +<p>The cowboy turned suddenly crimson with anger and shame.</p> + +<p>"How did that come into your hands?" he demanded angrily, and springing +from his seat.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>"Honestly enough. Sit down, comrade," said the csikós. "I am not asking +any questions, only preaching. The good man who got this bill instead of +money came to our place not long ago to buy horses. He paid with a bill +of exchange, and when I asked what it meant, explained, mentioned that +you knew the use of a bill, and then showed me your writing, complaining +bitterly that there was some omission, that it was only made payable on +the Hortobágy, and that the Hortobágy is a wide word. So now I have +brought you the bill for you to correct the mistake. Don't let a +horse-cooper say that a Hortobágy cowboy cheated him! Fill in the line, +'Payable on the Hortobágy, in the inn courtyard.'"</p> + +<p>The csikós spoke so mildly that he entirely misled his companion. He +began to think that after all nothing was called into question here but +the honour of csikós and cowboys.</p> + +<p>"All right, I will do as you wish," he said.</p> + +<p>They rapped on the table, and Klárika came out (she had been lurking +near the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> door). Great was her surprise when, instead of witnessing a +bloody encounter, she beheld the two young men conferring peaceably +together.</p> + +<p>"Fetch us pen and ink, Klári, dear," they said.</p> + +<p>So she brought writing materials from the town commissioner's room. Then +she looked on to see what would be done.</p> + +<p>The csikós showed the paper to the cowherd, pointing with his finger +where, and dictating what to write.</p> + +<p>"'Payable on the Hortobágy,' so much is written already, now add, 'in +the inn courtyard.'"</p> + +<p>"Why in the <i>courtyard</i>?" inquired the cowboy.</p> + +<p>"Because—because it can't be otherwise."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the storm was nearing rapidly. A hot wind preceded the +tempest, covering earth and sky with yellowish clouds of dust. Birds of +prey hovered shrieking over the Hortobágy, while flocks of swallows and +sparrows hurried under the shelter of the eaves. A loud roar swept over +the puszta.</p> + +<p>"Won't you come indoors?" urged the girl.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>"No, no, we can't," answered the csikós, "our work is out here."</p> + +<p>When the cowherd had finished writing, then the csikós took the pen from +his hand, and turning over the bill, inscribed his name on the back, in +big roundhand characters.</p> + +<p>"Now, what is the sense of you writing your name there?" asked the +cowboy, inquisitively.</p> + +<p>"The use is, that when the pay-day comes round, then <i>I</i> and <i>not you</i> +will pay those ten florins."</p> + +<p>"Why should you, instead of me?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is <i>my debt</i>!" said the csikós, and clapped his cap to his +head. His eyes flashed.</p> + +<p>The cowboy paled all at once. Now he knew what awaited him. The girl had +learnt nothing from the scribbling nor from the discourse. She shook her +head. "They were very foolish," she thought, and the gilded ear-rings +tinkled in her ears. "'This,' and 'that,' and 'Yellow Rose,' they must +be talking about her!"</p> + +<p>But the csikós carefully folded the paper, and handed it to her. Very +gently he spoke,</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>"Dear Klári," he said, "please be so very kind and put this safely away +in your drawer. Then should Mr. Pelikan, the horse-dealer, come in here +to dine on his way back from Onod fair, give it him. Tell him that we +sent it, we two old comrades, Ferko Lacza, and Sanyi Decsi, with our +best respects. One of us will meet it, which, time will show."</p> + +<p>The girl shrugged her shoulders. "Funny people! Not a thought of +quarrelling in their heads! Signing their names to the same paper."</p> + +<p>She collected the writing materials and carried them back to the +commissioner's room, at the end of the long pillared verandah. The two +lads were left alone together.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="newchapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + + +<p>The csikós quietly emptied his last bottle of beer. The cowboy poured +out the rest of his red wine into the glass.</p> + +<p>They clinked glasses.</p> + +<p>"Your health!" It was drained at a breath.</p> + +<p>Then the csikós began. Leaning on his elbows he remarked,</p> + +<p>"This is a fine large puszta, this Hortobágy, eh, comrade?"</p> + +<p>"Truly it is!"</p> + +<p>"I hardly think the desert could have been larger where Moses kept the +Jewish people wandering for forty years!"</p> + +<p>"You must know best, you are always poring over the Bible!"</p> + +<p>"Still, though the Hortobágy be so large, there is not room enough on it +for both you and me."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>"I say the same."</p> + +<p>"Then let us rid it of one of us!"</p> + +<p>With that they caught up their cudgels, two oak saplings from the Csát +forest, the club end heavily loaded.</p> + +<p>Each went to his horse. Cowboys do not fight on foot. When the girl +returned from the house, both were in the saddle.</p> + +<p>After that no word was spoken. Silently turning their backs on each +other, one went right, one left, as if flying before the approaching +storm. When there was about two hundred paces between them, they glanced +back simultaneously, and turned their horses. Then swinging their +cudgels, both lads put spurs in their horses, and rushed at each other.</p> + +<p>This is the duel of the puszta.</p> + +<p>It is not as easy as it looks. Fighting with swords on horseback is an +art, but the sword where it strikes inflicts a wound not easily +forgotten. He who wields the cudgel must aim his blow for the one +instant when his galloping steed meets his opponent's. There is no +parrying possible, no thrusting aside of the stroke. Who strikes truest +wins the day.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>The two herdsmen, meeting at the cudgel's length, struck at each other's +head, then dashed past on their horses.</p> + +<p>Sándor Decsi shook in the saddle, his head fell forward from the force +of the blow, but tossing it back directly, he straightened his crumpled +cap. Evidently his crown had only felt the handle of the cudgel.</p> + +<p>His stroke had been better aimed. The loaded end hit his adversary's +skull, who, turning sideways, tumbled out of the saddle, and fell face +downwards on the ground. The victor bringing up his horse, thereupon +promptly cudgelled his fallen foe from the crown of his head to the sole +of his foot, nor spared a square inch of him. For such is the custom.</p> + +<p>If gentlemen of higher rank would only adopt it, God knows how rare +duels would become!</p> + +<p>Having ended this business, the csikós picked up his opponent's cap on +the point of his stick, tore out the lining, and found beneath a +withered yellow rose. He threw it up in the air, giving it a knock which +sent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> the petals flying in a hundred pieces, and floating like +butterflies down the wind.</p> + +<p>"I told you beforehand, didn't I?" shouted the csikós from on horseback +to the girl, who had watched this decisive combat from the inn door. He +pointed to his mangled opponent. "There! Take him in and nurse him! You +may have him <i>now</i>!" A hissing thunderbolt fell before the mill close +by. Here was the storm. All round them the sky crashed and crackled.</p> + +<p>"You see," said the girl, "had he struck you instead, I would have +thrown my own body over you, and protected you from his blows! Then you +would have known how truly I loved you!"</p> + +<p>The csikós put spurs to his horse, and galloped off into the storm. +Sheets of rain and hail fell in torrents, thunder crashed with a +blinding flash. The girl gazed after the horseman till the storm hid him +from view. Once or twice when it lightened his figure shone visible +through the fiery rain, then she lost sight of it, till at last it +vanished utterly.</p> + +<p>Perhaps she never saw him again.</p> + + + + +<p class="newchapter center"><i>Jarrold & Sons, Limited, The Empire Press, Norwich.</i></p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<p class="center bigtext u"><b>MAURUS JÓKAI'S FAMOUS NOVELS</b></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo, Red Cloth, Gilt, 2/6 each, net.</i><br /> +With Photogravure Portrait of Dr. Jókai.<br /> +Uniform with "<span class="smcap">The Yellow Rose</span>."</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="title">BLACK DIAMONDS.</span> Ninth Edition.<br /> +With a Special Preface by <span class="smcap">Dr. Jókai</span>.<br /> +Translated by <span class="smcap">Frances A. Gerard</span>.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="title">THE GREEN BOOK; or, Freedom +Under the Snow.</span> Eighth Edition.<br /> +Translated by <span class="smcap">Mrs. Waugh</span>.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="title">PRETTY MICHAL.</span> Fifth Edition.<br /> +Translated from the first Hungarian Edition by +<span class="smcap">R. Nisbet Bain</span>.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="title">THE DAY OF WRATH.</span> Sixth Edition.<br /> +Translated from the Hungarian by +<span class="smcap">R. Nisbet Bain</span>.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>London:<br /> +Jarrold & Sons, 10 & 11, Warwick Lane, E.C.</i></p> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="wide" /> +<p> </p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Transcriber's Note:</p> + +<p>A satisfactory scan of the +frontispiece was not obtainable from the copy of <i>The Yellow Rose</i> used +to create this electronic edition. A scan from <i>Black Diamonds</i>, which was +published in a uniform edition with this text and used an identical +photograph as its frontispiece, was substituted.</p> + +<p>The advertisement for other works by Jókai was moved +from the front of the book to the back.</p> + +<p>The following typographical errors present in the original edition have been corrected.</p> + +<p>In the advertisement, "nett" was changed to "net".</p> + +<p>In Chapter II, "he never said it was a bethrothal gift" was changed to +"he never said it was a betrothal gift", "Ferka Lacza took to the trick" +was changed to "Ferko Lacza took to the trick" and "two from Debreczen" +was changed to "two from Debreczin". (Debreczen is the correct 19th +century spelling, but the translator consistently uses Debreczin +elsewhere in the text.)</p> + +<p>In Chapter III, a single quote (') was changed to a double quote (") +after "Why should we take carts for them?", and "enough for the week, +that they would take to reach Miskolcz" was changed to "enough for the +week that they would take to reach Miskolcz".</p> + +<p>In Chapter IV, "No, no, Klarika" was changed to "No, no, Klárika".</p> + +<p>In Chapter VI, "when were you last in the taproom of the Horotobágy inn" +was changed to "when were you last in the taproom of the Hortobágy inn".</p> + +<p>In Chapter IX, "an Alfold road" was changed to "an Alföld road", "First +one, then another csikos" was changed to "First one, then another +csikós", "All five csikos sup together" was changed to "All five csikós +sup together", and "Sándor Decsi, let no one notice" was changed to +"Sándor Decsi let no one notice".</p> + +<p>In Chapter X, quotation marks were added after "I've been looking for it +ever since" and "But Ferko Lacza only laughs to himself".</p> + +<p>In Chapter XI, a single quote (') was changed to a double quote (") +before "I beg your honour's pardon!", and "came out) she had been +lurking near the door)" was changed to "came out (she had been lurking +near the door)".</p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW ROSE***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 34911-h.txt or 34911-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/9/1/34911">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/9/1/34911</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Yellow Rose + + +Author: Mór Jókai + + + +Release Date: January 10, 2011 [eBook #34911] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW ROSE*** + + +E-text prepared by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 34911-h.htm or 34911-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/34911/34911-h/34911-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/34911/34911-h.zip) + + + + + +THE YELLOW ROSE + + +[Illustration: Budapest 1896 17 III Dr. Jokai Mor] + + +THE YELLOW ROSE + +A Novel + +by + +MAURUS JOKAI + +Author of "Black Diamonds," "The Green Book," +"Eyes like the Sea," "Pretty Michal," +"Doctor Dumany's Wife," etc. + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + +London +Jarrold & Sons, 10 & 11, Warwick Lane, E.C. + +[All Rights Reserved] + +Translated by BEATRICE DANFORD +from the original Hungarian. + +Copyright:-- +London: Jarrold & Sons. + + + + +CONTENTS. + PAGE + CHAPTER I. 7 + CHAPTER II. 13 + CHAPTER III. 44 + CHAPTER IV. 77 + CHAPTER V. 94 + CHAPTER VI. 97 + CHAPTER VII. 107 + CHAPTER VIII. 119 + CHAPTER IX. 129 + CHAPTER X. 147 + CHAPTER XI. 165 + CHAPTER XII. 181 + + + +THE YELLOW ROSE + + +CHAPTER I. + + +This happened when no train crossed the Hortobagy, when throughout the +Alfold there was not a railway, and the water of the Hortobagy had not +been regulated. The two-wheeled mill clattered gaily in the little +river, and the otter lived happily among the reeds. + +At the first streak of dawn, a horseman came riding across the flat Zam +puszta, which lies on the far side of the Hortobagy River (taking +Debreczin as the centre of the world). Whence did he come? Whither was +he going? Impossible to guess. The puszta has no pathway, grass grows +over hoof-print and cart track. Up to the endless horizon there is +nothing but grass, not a tree, a well pole, or a hut to break the +majestic green plain. The horse went its way instinctively. Its rider +dozing, nodded in the saddle, first on one side, then the other, but +never let slip his foot from the stirrup. + +He was evidently a cowherd, for his shirt sleeves were tight at the +wrists--wide sleeves would be in the way among horned beasts. His +waistcoat was blue, his jacket, with its rows of buttons, black, and so +was his cloak, worked in silken flowers, and hanging loosely strapped +over his shoulder. The slackly gathered reins were held in the left +hand, while from the right wrist dangled a thick stock whip. A long +loaded cudgel was fastened to the horn of the saddle in front. In the +wide upturned brim of his hat he wore a single yellow rose. Once or +twice the horse tossed its head, and shaking the fringed saddle cloth, +woke the rider for an instant. His first movement was to his cap, to +feel whether the rose was there, or if perchance it had dropped out. +Then removing the cap, he smelt the flower with keen enjoyment (although +it had no rose's scent), and replacing it well to one side, threw back +his head as if he hoped, in that way, to catch sight of the rose. +Presently (and very probably to keep himself awake) he began humming his +favourite song: + + "If only the inn were not so near, + If only I did not find such cheer + In golden quart and copper gill, + I would not linger, my love, until + It ever should grow so late." + +But soon his head fell forward again, and he went on nodding, till all +at once, with a frightened start, he saw that the yellow rose was gone! + +Turning his horse he commenced searching for the flower amid that sea of +grass, and the yellow blossoms of cinquefoil, and stitchwort, and +water-lilies. At last he found it, stuck it in his hat, and continued +his song: + + "An apple-tree stands in my garden small, + The blossoms it bears they hide it all. + Oh there where the full carnation blows, + And a maiden's heart with a true love glows + Is the place where I would be." + +And then he went to sleep again, lost the rose, and once more turned to +look for it. When found this time, nestling among a cluster of pink +thistle-heads, he nearly kicked the plant to pieces. Because--because it +had dared to kiss his rose! Then he sprang back to the saddle. Now had +this cowboy been superstitious he would not have decorated his hat for +the third time with the yellow rose. Had he understood bird language, he +would have known what the hundreds of little larks were twittering as +they rose up out of sight, to greet the dawn. "Wear not--wear not your +yellow rose!" But this Hortobagy peasant was hard-headed; he knew +neither fear nor superstition. + +He had wasted a good deal of time, however, in seeking this rose--though +possibly more in winning it--for at the watering-hour he should have +reached the Zam herd. By this time the overseer must be cursing him +roundly. Well, let him curse! When one has a yellow rose in one's cap +one is not afraid of an overseer! + +The sudden neighing of his horse roused him. A horseman was approaching, +whose steed, a bay with a white star, was evidently an old friend of its +own. The rider was a "csikos," or horseherd, as could be seen by his +wide flying sleeves, white cloak, tulip embroidered, the lasso thrown +around his shoulders, and best of all, by the way he had saddled his +bay--without a girth. The two herdsmen recognised one another, as well +as their horses, and quickening their trot drew close together. Both +men, though distinctly different, were of the true Hungarian type, such +as were the first Hungarians who wandered in from Asia. The cowherd was +broad-shouldered, thickset, and bony, his face roundish and his cheeks +red, while there was something of impudence in the chin, mouth, +eyebrows, and little waxed moustache. His chestnut hair was cropped +short, and his eyes hazel, though at first sight seeming almost green. + +The other, the csikos, was strong and square-chested, yet withal +slightly built. He had an oval face, burnt to a golden bronze, with +perfectly regular clear-cut features, eyes dark and shining, and a black +moustache that turned up of itself. Over his shoulders his jet black +hair fell in loose wavy ringlets. + +The two horses snorted in friendly fashion, and the csikos was the first +to hail his friend. + +"Good day, comrade! You are up early. But maybe you have not slept at +all?" + +"Thanks. That's true. There was someone to send me asleep and to wake me +up!" + +"And where are you from now?" + +"Only from the Mata puszta. I was at the vet's." + +"At the vet's? Better kill your horse at once." + +"Why?" + +"Than let the doctor and his old nag overtake it. He went by in his gig +half an hour ago, jogging along towards the Mata herd." + +"Well, well, comrade! The shepherd's white donkey has often beaten your +little bay mare." + +"Hm'm. What a pretty yellow rose you have got in your cap, comrade!" + +"Who wins one can wear one." + +"And may he never repent it!" + +The csikos held up his fist with a threatening gesture, till the wide +sleeve slipping back disclosed a muscular sunburnt arm. + +Then both riders putting spurs to their horses went their several ways. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +The cowboy trotted towards the herd, and soon the hills of Zam, the +little acacia wood, and the three tall well poles began to peep above +the horizon. But it is a good ride there! Presently he took the +tell-tale rose from his cap, folded it in his scarlet handkerchief, and +pushed it up the knotted sleeve of his coat. + +The horse-herd meanwhile spurred his horse in the opposite direction, +where a low lying line of bluish mist marked the course of the Hortobagy +river. He was on his way to the rose-bush where the yellow roses grew. + +For on the whole Hortobagy there was but one yellow rose, and that +bloomed in the innkeeper's garden. + +Some foreigner had brought it from Belgium, they said; and its +wonderful yellow flowers blossomed the whole summer through, from +Whitsuntide to Advent, when there were still buds on the branches; +yellow as pure gold they were, though their scent was more like muscatel +wine than roses. Many a man had felt that scent rise to his head! And +the girl who used to gather these roses, though not for herself, they +called "The Yellow Rose" also. + +It was quite a mystery where the old innkeeper had picked up this +maiden, for wife he had none. Some stranger had evidently forgotten her +there, and the old man had kept her till she grew into a delicate, +slender flower. Her cheeks were not rosy like those of other girls, but +a clear, creamy colour, not the tint of sickness, for the life glowed +beneath, and, when she smiled, seemed to dazzle and shine like a fire +within. Her mouth, with its turned-up corners, was made for laughter, +and suited the darkness of her eyes, eyes so dark that none could tell +whether they were black or blue, because if once a man looked into them +he forgot all else in the world. Her hair was black, twisted into a +plait, with yellow ribbon. Other girls damp their hair with quince juice +to make it curly, but hers waved and curled of itself. + +And the songs she knew! How sweetly she could sing when she liked! If +happy she sang, if sad she sang, for there is a song for everything, +and, without singing, a peasant maiden cannot live. Nothing makes the +work so easy, the time pass so quickly, and the way so short. Early in +the morning, when the sky was pink at sunrise, she might be heard +singing as she weeded in the garden. + +The old innkeeper did not concern himself with business, but had given +the whole management of the inn into the girl's hands. She served out +the wine, cooked, did the accounts. He meanwhile looked after his +beehives, and was busy now, for the bees were swarming. + +Suddenly a horse's hoofs resounded from the yard, the dogs barked in the +joyous tone with which they were wont to greet an old friend, and the +old man called out: + +"Klari! go in! Don't you hear the dogs barking; a customer must be here. +See to him!" + +The girl dropped her striped gown, tucked up for weeding, put on her +buckled shoes, washed her hands from the watering can, and dried them +with her apron, which she then threw aside, for, under it, she wore +another very wide and clean, and with the household keys dangling from +her waistband. She untied her gay-coloured kerchief, and smoothed her +hair with her moistened palms. Then she broke off a rose from the +rose-bush, and stuck it in her hair at one side. + +"Picking a rose again!" grumbled the old man. "Maybe only for a +gendarme!" + +"Why only? Why mayn't a gendarme wear a rose in his shako as well as +another fellow? Perhaps you don't think him good enough? That depends on +the gendarme." + +But after all it was no gendarme whom the girl found sitting at one end +of the long table, but the smartest csikos on the whole puszta--Sandor +Decsi. + +"Sandor!" screamed the girl when she saw him, and clapping her hands, +"Sandor! you have come back, my darling." + +He was standing there, drumming on the table with the empty glasses, and +only looked up to call out in a most sullen fashion, "Bring wine." + +"Sandor!" cried the girl. + +But the lad only growled, "I told you to bring wine," and let his head +fall back on his hands. + +"That is a nice 'good morning' after such a long absence!" exclaimed the +girl, at which the herdsman came somewhat to his senses, for he knew how +to be polite. Removing his cap and laying it on the table, "Good +morning, miss," he said. + +"Whew!" The girl pointed the rosy tip of her tongue at him, and +shrugging her shoulders angrily, stamped off to the bar, shaking her +shoes as she went. When she had brought the wine, however, she asked in +an unaltered voice: + +"Why do you call me 'miss'?" + +"Because . . . . you are 'miss.'" + +"I always was, but you never used to say so." + +"That was another time, it was different then." + +"Well, here is the wine anyway. Do you want anything else?" + +"Thank you," said the man, "not now. Later perhaps." + +The girl responded by a clicking noise with her tongue, and then sat +down near him, at the end of the long bench. + +The csikos raised the bottle to his lips, drained it dry, and flung it +on the floor, where it smashed into a thousand fragments. + +"Why have you broken the bottle?" she asked softly. + +"That no one else may drink out of it." Next he tossed three ten kreuzer +notes on the table--"dog tongues" the country people call them--two +being for the red wine, one for the bottle. The girl meanwhile had +seized a broom, and was diligently sweeping up the broken glass. Then, +knowing the rule, she dived behind the wooden lattice railing off the +bar, and brought out a fresh bottle. How she longed to look in his eyes! +But he, evidently guessing it, pulled his hat lower over his face than +before. Finally, she did manage to get possession of his cap, and then +tried to transfer the yellow rose in her hair to the silk ribbon +decorating its brim. But the herdsman saw, and snatched it out of her +hands. + +"Keep your roses for some worthier person," he said shortly. + +"Sandor," began the girl at last, "do you wish to make me cry?" + +"That would be false, as your words are false. Did not Ferko Lacza leave +you this morning with one of your roses in his cap?" + +She did not turn red at this, only so much the paler. + +"God knows I----" + +But a hand laid across her mouth stopped all further speech. + +"Do not take God's name in vain!" cried the herdsman; "and how did those +golden ear-rings get into your ears, I wonder?" + +"You donkey!" Klari laughed outright. "You gave them to me yourself, +only I had them gilded by the jeweller in Ujvaros." + +Then the csikos caught hold of both her hands, and spoke his mind slowly +and earnestly. "Dearest Klari," he said, "I won't call you 'miss' any +more--I beg you from the bottom of my heart not to lie to me. Nothing is +so detestable as lying. They say, 'lying dog,' though dogs never lie; +for a dog has a different bark when he smells a thief round the farm, or +scents danger, or hears his master coming, and his bark never misleads. +A dog is honest enough, it is men who know how to lie, and theirs is the +true yelping. As for me, it never came into my mind to lie, my tongue is +not fashioned that way. Lying ill-suits a moustache, and it's a bad +business when bearded lips speak lying words like a coward who fears a +beating. Now, see, when the conscription was here last autumn, they +summoned us all from the puszta. But the townspeople wanted to keep us, +for, without herdsmen the cattle and horses would fare badly. So, first +they took care to cross the palms of the committee with silver, and then +the doctors whispered to us what sort of bodily defect we could feign, +so as to be discharged as unfit. Ferko Lacza took to the trick! He swore +he was as deaf as a door-post, could not hear a trumpet even; he, who +has such good ears that if a beast lows in the blackest midnight, he can +tell whether it is a stray one wandered in among the herd or a cow +calling her lost calf. My eyes nearly fell out of my head! Eh, he knew +how to lie, the scoundrel! When my turn came to be inspected they made +out that my heart beat irregularly. 'Well, if it beats irregularly,' +said I, 'it is not my heart that's in fault, but the Yellow Rose yonder, +at the Hortobagy inn.' The gentlemen all nudged me to trust to the +doctor, who said I had enlargement of the heart! 'Why, it's just big +enough to hold one little bit of a girl, and nothing else. There is +nothing in the world the matter with me!' So they took me for a soldier, +but respected me. They never even cut my hair, but sent me to be +'soldier csikos' to the military stud at Mezohegyes. And before half a +year was over the Town Council put down the thousand florins ransom to +buy me off, and send me back to the horses again. But I will work out +those thousand florins with my two hands, though not with a lying +tongue--that is another matter!" + +The girl attempted to get her hands free, and to turn off the affair as +a joke. + +"My word, Sandor, did you learn to preach when you were eating the +Emperor's bread? Really, you're so eloquent you ought to go as +probationer every Sunday to Balmaz-Ujvaros!" + +"Now, now, do not jest," said the man. "I know what is in your little +head. You are thinking that maids are but a feeble folk, and have no +other weapon but lying, otherwise they would be overmatched. The swift +feet for the hare, the wings for the bird, and for the girl--her lying +lips! But, sweetheart, I am a man who has never hurt the weaker. The +hare can bide in the cover, and the bird on her nest for me, I would +never disturb them. Neither would I harm the girl who speaks the truth +with as much as a hard word or look. But if you lie to me, why, then I +must judge you as hardly as if those pretty cheeks of yours were smeared +with Vienna rouge! Look at the rose in your hand, it has hardly opened, +but if I blow on it with my hot breath, one after another all the petals +will unfold. Be such a rose, then, my darling, and open your heart and +your soul to me. I will not be angry whatever you confess, and I will +forgive you, even if it breaks my heart." + +"And then what will you give me?" + +"As much of it as you have left me," said the man. + +The girl, knowing the herdsmen's custom of eating bacon, paprika (the +red pepper), and white bread with their morning wine, rose, and set this +before him, and was glad to see it was not scorned. Indeed, the csikos, +drawing out his long knife with its inlaid handle from his top boot, cut +off a slice of bread and bacon, and fell to work heartily. + +Meanwhile, through the open door appeared the watch-dog, wagging his +tail, and going to the herdsman, he rubbed his nose against his legs, +and then lay down near him, yawning with great affability. + +"Even Bodri knows you," said the girl. + +"Yes, dogs are faithful. It is only girls who forget." + +"Sandor, Sandor," she cried. "What a pity it was you could not tell that +one little lie when it was so needful! Then they would not have taken +you as a soldier to Mezohegyes. It is not wise to leave a girl to +herself. It is not wise to let a lilac-bush in blossom overhang the +paling, because then every passer-by who chooses can break off a piece!" + +At these words the very morsel of bread fell from the herdsman's mouth, +and he cast it to the dog. + +"Is this truth that you are saying?" + +"Truth? Don't you know the song about 'When the girl's out in the storm, +under his cloak the boy keeps her warm'?" + +"Yes, and how it goes on too. 'The maid keeps near to the lad in the +showers, his cloak being worked with silken flowers.' Get away, dog! +Even you only wag your tail when there is a question of bacon!" + +Just then the horse in the yard outside began to neigh, and the girl +went out, reappearing in a few minutes. + +"Where have you been?" asked the man. + +"Tying up your horse in the stable." + +"Who bid you tie him up?" + +"I always did so till now." + +"Now it is different; I am off directly!" + +"What? You won't take a bite? Isn't bread and bacon good enough? Maybe +you got better from the Emperor? But stop, I can bring you something +nicer." + +She went to the cupboard in the wall and brought out a plate of fried +fowl, or "Back Hendli"--for fowl fried in bread-crumbs, and then left +cold, was a favourite tit-bit of the herdsman's. + +"Whose remains are these?" he demanded suspiciously. + +"Well, first think a little! All sorts of people come to an inn, and +anyone who pays can have 'Back Hendli.'" + +"Then you had grand folks here last night?" + +"Certainly," said the girl. "Two gentlemen from Vienna, and two from +Debreczin. They stayed up till two o'clock and then went on. If you +don't believe me, I can show you their names in the guest book." + +"Oh! I believe you." + +The great tabby Tom, who had been washing his face by the stove, rose at +this moment, stretched himself, arched his back, jumped down, and going +to the csikos, measured his claws on his boots, showing how high the +snow would lie next winter. + +Then he sprang into his friend's arms, rubbing and pushing his head +against his hand, and slowly licking every one of the five fingers. At +last he lay down and began purring. + +"Look how the cat is trying to coax you," said Klari. + +"I am not going to ask him whose arms he purred in yesterday. How much +do I pay for the 'Back Hendli'?" + +"_You!_ Nothing, of course, somebody else did that. But where are you +off to in such a terrible hurry?" + +"To the vet, on the Mata puszta--I am taking him a letter." + +"You won't find him at home, for he passed here at three this morning, +looking for those gentlemen. When he heard they had gone, he went +jogging on in his gig to the Zam puszta. One gentleman was the steward +of a Moravian Count, who wants to buy some of our cattle to breed on his +estate; the other German was an artist. He drew me in his little book, +and the cowherd also." + +"So the cowherd was here also?" + +"Of course he was here, since he was sent to show the gentlemen across +the puszta to the Zam Herd." + +"Only it seems funny to me," remarked the csikos, "that the cowboy left +an hour later than the gentlemen he was meant to guide." + +"Dear me! You can cross-examine like the district judge! Well, he came +to bid me good-bye. He is going far away, and we will never see him any +more." + +As if to prove the truth of her words, a real shining tear dropped from +the girl's eyes, though she tried her best to hide it. Not that the +csikos minded that, for it was an honest tear, at any rate, and he +preferred to turn his head aside when she dried her eyes with her apron. +Then he stuck his short clay pipe in his mouth. A pipe in the mouth +signifies no kisses. + +"And what takes the cowboy so far away?" he inquired. + +"He is going to Moravia as head herdsman to the cattle which they are +buying at Zam. He is to get a stone house, so much corn, and six hundred +florins as wages. He'll be quite the gentleman! And they will respect +him there, because only a Hungarian herdsman can manage a Hungarian +herd." + +"And you? Aren't you going to Moravia as head herdsman's wife?" + +"You rascal!" said the girl. "You know I'm not. You know, quite well, I +love no one but you. I might if I weren't chained fast to you and to +this puszta. Why, I am your slave." + +"Not exactly," said the man. "You know it is not like that; but whoever +you have bewitched with those eyes of yours must come back from the ends +of the earth to you. You give him a charm to drink that compels him to +think of you. Or you sew one of your hairs in his shirt sleeve, that you +may draw him back, even from beyond the stars. It's just the same with +me! Since I looked into your eyes I have been made a fool of." + +"And have I not been fool enough?" she asked. "Haven't I often wondered +what would become of me! Whom did I ask to melt lead with me on +Christmas Eve? Whose kerchief did I wear, though he never said it was a +betrothal gift? Did I ever go spying after you when you danced with +other girls and giddy young wives at Ujvaros Fair?" + +"If only you had not put the rose in his cap!" + +"Well, give me yours, and here is a match to it, which is easily stuck +in!" + +"No," said the lad. "I want _that_ rose which you gave to the cowherd, +and I will never rest till I have it in my hands." + +At that the girl clasped her hands imploringly. + +"Sandor! Sandor! Don't talk like that. You two must not fight about +me--_about a yellow rose_!" + +"It must be. Either he kills me, or I him, but one of us must fall." + +"And that is what _you_ call telling the truth!" cried the girl. "You +who have just promised not to be angry with me any more?" + +"With you, yes. A girl can't help forgetting, but a man should bear in +mind." + +"God knows, I never forgot you." + +"Perhaps not; like in the song:-- + + "'Whome'er within my arms I pressed, + Yet in my heart I loved thee best.' + +"No, dearest, I am not a hard man, and I did not come to quarrel with +you, but only to show you that I am alive, and not dead, though I know +how happy you would be if I were." + +"Sandor! Then you want me to go and buy matches?" + +"Matches, is it?" said the man. "That's the way with you girls. If you +fall into the ditch, then it's three boxes of matches from the Jew, a +cup of hot coffee, and it is all over. But surely the wiser plan would +be to avoid the ditches altogether!" + +"Don't speak about it. Do you remember," the girl asked, "how, when +first we met, we were playing that game, 'I fell into the well. Who +pulled you out? Sandor Decsi!' And you did pull me out!" + +"But if I had thought it was for someone else . . . !" + +"Heigho!" sighed the herdsman, "that was long ago. Before ever the +Dorozsma Mill was sung about." + +"Is that something new?" The girl stooped over the bench closer to the +lad. "Sing it first, and then I will learn it." + +So Sandor Decsi set his back against the wall, put one hand to his cap +and the other on the table and commenced the tune, the sad air suiting +the sadness of its words:-- + + "Dorozsma's mill, Dorozsma's mill, + The wind has dropped, 'tis standing still. + Ah! faithless thou hast flown, my dove! + Another claims thy life, thy love, + This is the reason, if you will, + Why turns no more Dorozsma's mill." + +Such a song it was as is born on the plains and blown hither and thither +like the thistledown scattered by the wind. The girl tried the air after +him, and where she failed the csikos helped her, and so it went on till +they both knew it, and sang it together perfectly. And then, at the +finish, they kissed each other. This was the end of the song. + +But hardly had Klari sung the last note before Sandor Decsi had stuck +the short clay pipe in his mouth again. + +"There you go, putting that horrid pipe in your mouth!" she exclaimed +sulkily. + +"Well, it matches me, I'm horrid too," said the lad. + +"You are, just a horrid rascal! A lad like you is good for nothing else +but to be turned into a distaff, and stuck up behind the door!" + +So saying she gave him a shove with her elbow. + +"Now what are you coming round me for?" he asked. + +"I coming round you? Do I want you! If lads like you were sold by the +dozen, never a one would I buy. I was blind and cracked for sure to have +loved you? Why, I could have ten such lads as you for every one of my +ten fingers!" + +She stormed in so genuine a manner that at last even Bodri was +deceived, and believing that his mistress was offended with this horrid +man, jumped up and began growling at him. It made the girl laugh +heartily, but the csikos neither caught her merriment nor saw any cause +for laughter. He just sat there, moody and silent, holding his pipe +between his teeth. The pipe was not alight, for indeed it was empty. +Then the girl tried teasing him. + +"Well, dear! You are quite aware of your own good looks!" she said, "You +wouldn't laugh for the world, would you? Why it would squeeze up your +two black eyes, and make your two red lips quite crooked, and all your +beauty would be spoiled!" + +"Debreczin town does not pay me for being beautiful." + +"But I do. Wasn't my payment big enough for you?" + +"It was. There was even enough for another person left over." + +"Are you beginning again? All about that one yellow rose? Are you so +jealous of your comrade then, your own close companion? How could he +help himself, poor fellow? If a gallant of the town feels his heart +aching for a rose, why he has the whole flower garden to choose from, +full of all sorts and shades of roses--red, pink, yellow, and cream! But +how does the song go? + + "'Only the peasant maid can still + The peasant's heart in good and ill!'" + +"So you take his part?" + +"Well, whose fault is it? The girl's who sings, 'An' he knew he could, +An' he knew it still he would,' or the man's who listens and +understands?" + +"Do you take the blame then?" + +"You said you would forgive me everything." + +"I will keep my word." + +"And love me again?" + +"Later." + +"Ah! it's a big word that 'later,'" said the girl. + +"I love you now." + +"As you have shown me." + +The csikos rose from the table, stuck the short pipe into the wide brim +of his hat, and going to the girl, put his arms round her, gazing, as he +spoke, into her large dark eyes. + +"My darling, you know there are two kinds of fever--the hot and the +cold. The hot is more violent, but the cold lasts longer; the one passes +quickly, the other returns again and again. But I will just speak +plainly, and not mince matters. Mine was the fault, for if I had not +breathed on my yellow rosebud, it would not have opened, and others +would not have found out the sweet scent which has brought all the wasps +and moths. I do love you indeed, but differently now, with the constancy +of the cold sort of fever. I will deal as truly by you as thine own +mother, and as soon as I am made head herdsman we will go to the priest +and live faithfully together ever afterwards. But if I find anyone else +fluttering around, then God help me, for were he my father's own son, I +will crack his head for him. Here's my hand on it." He stretched out his +hand to the girl, and she, in answer, pulled out her golden ear-rings, +placing them in his open palm. + +"But, dearest, wear them," he insisted, "if as you say they are my +silver ones gilded, and I must believe you!" + +So she put them back in her ears, and in so doing she put something back +in her heart that had lain hidden there till now. Somehow this sort of +love, likened to the shivering stage of fever, was not altogether to her +taste. She understood the burning fit better. + +Next the girl, after reflecting, slipped the cloak from the herdsman's +neck and hung it up behind the lattice of the bar, as she was accustomed +to take the coats of customers in pledge, who could not pay their +reckoning. + +"Don't hurry," she said, "there is time. The Vet can't possibly be back +at the Mata Farm before noon, because he must examine all the cattle +that are sold, and write a certificate for each. You will only find his +old housekeeper, and here you are safe and dry. Neither the storm can +drench you, nor your sweetheart's tears. Look how glad your last words +have made me! They will be in my head all day long." + +"And see how far away I thought of those last words, since I have +brought you a present. It is in my cloak sleeve yonder, go and fetch it +out." + +Many things were in that sleeve--steel, flint, and tinder, tobacco +pouch, money bag, and among it all the girl discovered a new packet, +done up in silver paper. When it was unfolded, and she beheld a comb of +yellow tortoise-shell, her face beamed with happiness. + +"This is for _me_?" + +"Whom _else_?" + +Now when a peasant maid twists her plait of hair round a comb, it means +she is betrothed, has a lover of her own, and is "ours" no longer. Nor +can she any more sing the song about "I know not whose darling am I." + +Standing before the mirror, Klari "did up" her hair in a knot round the +comb, and then she looked prettier than ever. + +"Now you shall kiss me," she said. She offered the kiss herself in +fact, stretching out her arms, but the man held her back. + +"Not yet," he said, "I will be hot presently, but I am still shivering." + +It was a rebuff, and the girl drew her brows together, for she felt +shamed, and besides something burned in her heart. However, she only +tried harder to be loving and gentle, love and anger meanwhile striving +madly together in her heart--anger just because of the love. + +"Shall I sing your favourite song," she asked, "while the fish is +roasting?" + +"If you like." + +She went to the fireplace, took a fish out of a big barrel full of the +Hortobagy fish, called "Karasz," slashed it with a kitchen knife on both +sides, sprinkled it well with salt and pepper, and sticking a skewer +through it, placed it beside the red hot embers. Then she sang in her +sweet, clear voice: + + "Ho! good dame of the Puszta Inn, + Bake me fish, bring lemon and wine, + Set your wench on the watch without, + Bid her tell what she sees in time." + +The song has a fascination of its own, bringing visions of the endless +puszta with the mirage overhanging its horizon, and echoes, too, of the +lone shepherd's pipe, and the sad sounding horn of the herdsman. +Besides, is not the whole romance of the "betyars'," the puszta +robbers', life contained in the words: + + "Set your wench on the watch without, + Bid her tell what she sees in time"? + +As soon as the fish was browned enough, the girl brought it to the +csikos. Never is this dish eaten otherwise than by holding the end of +the spit in the fingers, and picking off the fish with a pocket knife. +It tastes best like that, and a girl cannot show her love for her +sweetheart more distinctly than by roasting him a fish on the spit. Then +what a delight it is to watch him enjoying the work of her hands! + +Meanwhile Klari went on singing: + + "'Nine gendarmes and their weapons flash!' + Cries the girl in her frightened haste; + But the betyar gallops his swift bay steed + Where the mirage plays o'er the boundless waste." + +Once, when they sang this together, at the line "gallops his swift bay +steed," the herdsman would throw up his cap to the rafters, and bring +down his fist with a crash on the table. + +But now he did not heed it. + +"Don't you care for the song nowadays?" asked the girl. "Even that +doesn't please you?" + +"Why should it? I'm no 'betyar,' and have nothing to do with thieves. +Gendarmes are honest men, and do their duty. As for a good-for-nothing +'betyar,' he sets a girl to watch outside, and as soon as he sees so +much as the tip of a gendarme's helmet, he is off and away, 'O'er the +boundless waste,' leaving fish and wine and all behind him. And he +shouts it out in his own praise too! The cowardly thief!" + +"Well, you _have_ changed since you ate the Emperor's bread!" + +"I've not changed, but the times. You can turn a coat inside out if you +like. After all it is only a coat. A bunda--fur-lined cloak--is always a +bunda." + +"And do you know," said the girl, "the greatest insult a man can pay +his sweetheart is to quote a worn-out old saw like that----" + +"But if I know none better! Perhaps the gentlemen from Moravia, who were +here last night, had newer jokes to amuse you with?" + +"Better jokes!" said the girl. "Anyway they didn't sit here looking like +stuck pigs. The painter especially was a very proper young fellow. If he +had only been a hair's breadth taller! As it was he just came up to my +chin!" + +"Did you measure yourselves then?" + +"Rather! Why I taught him to dance csardas, and he jumped about like a +two months old kid on the barn floor!" + +"And the cowherd?" asked the man, "did he see you dancing with the +German artist, and yet not wring his neck?" + +"Wring his neck! Why they drank eternal friendship together!" + +"Well, it is not my business. Get me some more wine, but better stuff +than this vinegar. I shall have to come out with another old saying, +'The fish is unhappy in the third water,' for the third water should be +wine." + +"That's a double insult to call my wine--water." + +"Never mind," said the herdsman, "just get me a sealed bottle!" + +Now it was the undoing of Sandor Decsi that he asked for a sealed +bottle, one brought from the town, sealed with green wax, with a pink or +blue label pasted on one side, covered with golden letters. Such wine is +only fit for gentlefolk, or perhaps for people in the Emperor's pay! + +Klari's heart beat loud and fast as she went into the cellar to fetch a +bottle of this gentlefolk's wine. + +For, suddenly, the girl remembered about a gipsy woman, who had once +told her fortune for some old clothes, and, out of pure gratitude, had +said this to her as well, "Should your lover's heart grow cold, my dear, +and you wish to make it flame again, that is easily managed, give him +wine mixed with lemon juice, and drop a bit of this root called 'fat +mannikin' into it. Then his love will blaze up again, till he would +break down walls to reach you!" + +It flashed across the girl's mind that now was the very moment to test +the charm, and the roots, stumpy and black, like little round-headed, +fat-legged mannikins, were lying safe in a drawer of her chest. In the +olden days much was believed of this magic plant, how it shrieked when +pulled from the ground, and that those who heard it died. How, at last, +they took dogs to uproot it, tying them to it by the tail! How Circe +bewitched Ulysses and his comrades with it. The chemist, who has another +use for it, calls it "atropa mandragora." But how could the girl know +that it was poisonous? + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Early, ere the dawn, the strangers at the Hortobagy inn started on their +way. + +This inn, though only a "csarda," or wayside house of call, was no +owl-haunted, tumble-down, reed-thatched place, such as the painter had +imagined, but a respectable brick building, with a shingle roof, +comfortable rooms, and a capital kitchen and cellar quite worthy of any +town. Below the flower garden, the Hortobagy river wound silently along, +between banks fringed with reeds and willows. Not far from the inn, the +high road crossed it on a substantial stone bridge of nine arches. +Debreczin folk maintain that the solidity of this bridge is due to the +masons having used milk to slake their lime; jealous people say that +they employed wine made from Hortobagy grapes, and that this drew it +together. + +The object of the early start was aesthetic as well as practical. The +painter looked forward to seeing a sunrise on the puszta, a sight which +no one, who has not viewed it with his own eyes, can form the slightest +idea of. The practical reason was that the cattle to be sold could only +be separated from the herd in the early morning. In spring, most of them +have little calves, and at dawn, when these are not sucking, the +herdsmen going in among the herd, catch those whose mothers have been +selected and take them away. The mothers then follow of their own +accord. A stranger would be gored to death by these wild creatures, who +have never seen anyone but their own drovers, but to them they are quite +accustomed. + +So the strangers set off for those wild parts of the plain, where even +the puszta dwellers need a guide, in a couple of light carriages. The +two coachmen, however, knew the district, and needed no pilot. They +therefore left the cowboy, who had been sent as guide, to amuse himself +at the inn, he promising to overtake them before they reached the herd. + +The artist was a famous landscape painter from Vienna, who often came to +Hungary for the sake of his work, and who spoke the tongue of the +people. The other Viennese was manager of the stables to the Moravian +landowner, Count Engelshort. It would, perhaps, have been wiser to have +sent some farmer who knew about cattle, for a lover of horses has little +mind left for anything else. But he had this advantage over the rest of +the staff, that he knew Hungarian, for when a lieutenant of Dragoons he +had long been stationed in Hungary, where the fair ladies had taught him +to speak it. Two of the Count's drovers had been told off to escort +him--strong, sturdy fellows, each armed with a revolver. As for the +gentlemen from Debreczin, one was the chief constable, the other the +worthy citizen from whose herd the twenty-four stock cows and their bull +were to be selected. + +Now, at the time of starting, the waning moon and the brightest of the +stars were still visible, while over in the east dawn was already +breaking. + +The townsman, a typical Magyar, explained to the painter how the star +above them was called "the wanderer's lamp," and how the "poor lads," or +"betyars," looking up at it, would sigh, "God help us," and so escape +detection when stealing cattle. This quite enchanted the painter. + +"What a Shakespearian idea," he said. + +He grew more and more impressed with the endless vision of puszta, when, +an hour later, their galloping steeds brought them where nothing could +be seen save sky above and grass below, where there was not a bird or +frog-eating stork to relieve the marvellous monotony. + +"What tones! What tints! What harmony in the contrasts!" + +"It's all well enough," said the farmer, "till the mosquitoes and the +horse-flies come." + +"And that fresh, velvety turf, against those dark pools!" + +"Those puddles there? 'Tocsogo' as we call them." + +Meanwhile, high above, sounded the sweet song of the lark. + +"Ah, those larks; how wonderful, how splendid!" + +"They're thin enough now, but wait till the wheat ripens," replied the +farmer. + +Slowly the light grew, the purple of the sky melted into gold; the +morning star, herald of the sun, already twinkled above the now visible +horizon, and a rainbow-like iridescence played over the dewy grass, +keeping pace with the movements of the dark figures. The horses, four to +each carriage, flew over the pathless green meadow-land, till, +presently, something began to show dark on the horizon--a plantation, +the first acacias on the hitherto treeless puszta, and some bluish +knolls. + +"Those are the Tartar hills of Zam," explained the Debreczin farmer to +his companions. "There stood some village destroyed by the Tartars. The +ruins of the church still peep out of the grass, and the dogs, when they +dig holes, scrape out human bones." + +"And there, what sort of a Golgotha is that?" + +"That," said the farmer, "is no Golgotha, but the three poles of the +cattle wells. We are close to the herd." + +They halted at the acacias, and there agreed to await the doctor who was +to come jogging along from the Mata puszta, in his one-horse trap. +Meanwhile the painter made notes in his sketch-book, falling from +ecstasy to ecstasy. "What subjects! What motives!" In vain his +companions urged him to draw a fine solitary acacia, rather than a group +of nasty old thistles! At last appeared the doctor and his gig, coming +up from a slanting direction, but he did not stop, only shouted "Good +morning" from the box, and then, "Hurry, hurry! before the daylight +comes!" So after a long enough drive they reached "the great herd." This +is the pride of the Hortobagy puszta--one thousand five hundred cattle +all in one mass. Now all lay silent, but whether sleeping or not, who +could tell? No one has ever seen cattle with closed eyes and heads +resting on the ground, and to them Hamlet's soliloquy, "To sleep, +perchance to dream," in no wise applies. + +"What a picture!" cried the painter, enchanted. "A forest of uplifted +horns, and there in the middle the old bull himself with his sooty head +and his wrinkled neck. The jet black litter surrounded by green pasture, +the grey mist in the background, and, far away, the light of a +shepherd's fire! This must be perpetuated!" + +Thereupon he sprang from the carriage, saying, "Please follow the +others. I see the shelter, and will meet you there." So, taking his +paint-box and camp-stool, and laying his sketch-book on his knees, he +began rapidly jotting down the scene, while the carriage with the farmer +drove on. + +All at once, the two watch dogs of the herd, observing this strange +figure on the puszta, rushed towards him, barking loudly. It was, +however, not the painter's way to be frightened. The dogs, moreover, +with their white coats and black noses, fell into the scheme of colour. +Nor did they attack the man, peacefully squatting there, but when quite +close to him, stood still. "What could he be?" Sitting down, they poked +out their heads inquisitively at the sketch-book. "What was this?" The +painter pursued the joke, for he daubed the cheek of the one with green, +and the other with pink; and these attentions they seemed to find +flattering, but when they by-and-by saw each other's pink or green face, +they fancied it was that of a strange dog, and took to fighting. + +Luckily the "taligas," or wheel-barrow boy, came up at that moment. The +taligas is the youngest boy on the place, and his duty is to follow the +cattle with his wheel-barrow, and scrape up the "poor man's peat" which +they leave on the meadow. This serves as fuel on the puszta, and its +smoke is alike grateful to the nose of man and beast. + +The taligas rushed his barrow between the fighting dogs, separated and +pursued them, shouting, "Get away there!" For the puszta watch-dog does +not fear the stick, but of the wheel-barrow he is in terror. + +The taligas was a very smart little lad, in his blue shirt and linen +breeches worked with scarlet. He delivered the message entrusted to him +by the gentlemen, very clearly. It was "that the painter should join +them at the shelter, where there was much to sketch." But the striking +picture of the herd was not yet completed. + +"Can you run me along in your barrow?" asked the painter, "for this +silver piece?" + +"Oh, sir!" said the lad, "I've wheeled a much heavier calf than you! +Please step in, sir." + +So utilising this clever idea, the painter gained both his ends. He got +to the "karam," seated in the barrow, and managed to finish his +characteristic sketch by the way. + +Meanwhile the others had left their carriages, and were introducing the +Vienna cattle buyer to the herdsman in charge. This man was an +exceptionally fine example of the Hungarian puszta-dweller. A tall, +strong fellow, with hair beginning to turn grey, and a curled and waxed +moustache. His face was bronzed from exposure to hard weather, and his +eyebrows drawn together from constant gazing into the sun. + +By "Karam" is understood on the puszta that whole arrangement which +serves as shelter against wind and storm for both man and beast. Wind is +the great enemy. Rain, heat, and cold the herdsman ignores. He turns +his fur-lined cloak inside out, pulls down his cap, and faces it, but +against wind he needs protection, for wind is a great power on the +plains. Should the whirlwind catch the herd on the pastures, it will, +unless there be some wood to check them, drive them straight to the +Theiss. So the shelter is formed of a planking of thick boards, with +three extended wings into the corners of which the cattle can withdraw. + +The herdsmen's dwelling is a little hut, its walls plastered like a +swallow's nest. It is not meant for sleeping in, there is not room +enough, but is only a place where the men keep their furs and their +"bank." This is just a small calf's skin with the feet left on, and a +lock in place of the head. It holds their tobacco, red pepper, even +their papers. Round the walls hang their cloaks, the embroidered "szur" +for summer, for winter the fur-lined bunda. These are the herdsman's +coverings, and in them he sleeps beneath God's sky. Only the overseer +reposes under the projecting eaves, on a wooden bench for bedstead, +above his head the shelf with the big round loaves, and the tub that +holds the week's provisions. His wife, who lives in the town, brings +them every Sunday afternoon. + +Before the hut stands a small circular erection woven out of reeds, with +a brick-paved flooring and no roof. This is the kitchen, the "vasalo," +and here the herdsman's stew, "gulyashus" and meal porridge are cooked +in a big pot hung on a forked stick. The taligas does the cooking. A row +of long-handled tin spoons are stuck in the reed wall. + +"But where did the gentlemen leave the cowboy?" asked the overseer. + +"He had some small account to settle with the innkeeper's daughter," +answered the farmer. His name was Sajgato. + +"Well, if he comes home drunk the betyar!" + +"Betyar," interrupted the painter, delighted at hearing the word. "Is +our cowboy a betyar?" + +"I only used the expression as a compliment," the overseer explained. + +"Ah!" sighed the painter, "I should so like to see a _real_ betyar, to +put him in my sketch-book!" + +"Well, the gentleman won't find one here, we don't care for thieves. If +one comes roaming around we soon kick him out." + +"So there are no betyars left on the Hortobagy puszta?" + +"There's no saying! Certainly there are plenty of thieves among the +shepherds, and some of the swineherds turn brigands, and it does +sometimes happen that when a csikos gets silly and loses his head, he +sinks to a vagabond betyar, but no one can ever remember a cowboy having +taken to robbery." + +"How is that?" + +"Because the cowboy works among quiet, sensible beasts. He never sits +drinking with shepherds and swineherds." + +"Then the cowherd is the aristocrat of the puszta?" remarked the manager +of the stables. + +"That's it, exactly. Just as counts and barons are among grand folk, so +are csikos and cowboys among the other herdsmen." + +"So there is no equality on the puszta?" + +"As long as men are on the earth, there will never be equality," said +the overseer. "He who is born a gentleman will remain one, even in a +peasant's coat. He will never steal his neighbour's cow or horse, even +if he find it straying, but will drive it back to its owner. But whether +he won't try a little cheating at the market, that I am not prepared to +say." + +"For gentlemen to take in each other at the horse fair is, however, +quite an aristocratic custom!" + +"Still more so at the cattle market, so I would recommend you to use +your eyeglass while you are with us, for when once you have driven off +your cattle I am no longer responsible." + +"Thanks for the warning," said the manager. + +Here the doctor interrupted the discussion. + +"Come out, gentlemen," he cried, "in front of the kitchen, and see the +sunrise." + +The painter rushed forward, and began to sketch, but soon fell into +utter despair. + +"Why, this is absurd! What colour! dark blue ground, violet mist on the +horizon, above it orange sky, and over that a long streak of rosy cloud. +What, a purple glory announces the coming of the sun! A glowing fire is +rising above the sharply defined horizon! Just like a burning pyramid, +now like red hot iron! Yet not so dazzling that one cannot look at it +with the naked eye. Now look, do! The sun is five-sided, the upper part +grows egg-shaped! The lower contracts, the top flattens out, now it is +quite like a mushroom! No, no, a Roman urn. This is absurd, it can't be +painted. Now there comes a thin cloud which turns it into a blindfolded +cupid, or a bearded deputy. No! If I painted the sun five-sided and with +a moustache they would shut me up in an asylum." + +The painter threw down his brushes. + +"These Hungarians," he said, "must always have something out of the +common. Here they are giving us a sunrise which is a reality, but at the +same time an impossibility. That is not as it should be." + +The doctor began to explain that this was only an optical delusion, like +the _fata morgana_, and was due to the refraction of the rays through +the differently heated strata of the atmosphere. + +"All the same it is impossible," said the painter. "Why, I can't believe +what I see." + +But the sun did not leave him in wonder much longer. Hitherto, the whole +display had been but a dazzling effect of mirage, and when the real orb +rose with floods of light, the human eye could no longer gaze at it with +impunity. Then the rosy heavens suddenly brightened into gold, and the +line of the horizon appeared to melt into the sky. + +At the first flash of sunlight the whole sleeping camp stirred. The +forest of horns of fifteen hundred cattle moved. The old bull shook the +bell at his neck, and at its sound uprose the puszta chorus. One +thousand five hundred cattle began to low. + +"Splendid! Good Lord," exclaimed the painter ecstatically. "This is a +Wagner chorus! Oboes, hunting horns, kettledrums! What an overture! What +a scene! It is a finale from the Goetterdaemmerung!" + +"Yes, yes," said Mr. Sajgato. "But now they are going to the well. Every +cow is calling her calf, that is why they are lowing." + +Three herdsmen ran to the well--the beam of which testified to the skill +of the carpenter--and setting the three buckets in motion, emptied the +water into the large drinking trough--fatiguing work which has to be +done three times a day. + +"Would it not be simpler to use some mechanism worked by horse-power?" +inquired the German gentleman of the overseer. + +"We have such a machine," he replied, "but the cowboy would rather wear +out his own hands than frighten his horse with it." + +Meanwhile a fourth cowboy had been occupied in picking out those cows +which belonged to Mr. Sajgato, and in removing their calves, which he +drove into the corral, the mothers following them meekly into the fenced +enclosure. + +"These are mine," said Mr. Sajgato. + +"But how can the herdsman tell among a thousand cattle which belong to +Mr. Sajgato?" asked the manager of the stables. "How do you know one +from the other?" + +The overseer cast a compassionate glance over his shoulder at the +questioner. + +"Has the gentleman ever seen two cows just alike?" + +"To my eyes they are all alike." + +"But not to the herdsman's," said the overseer. + +The manager, however, professed himself perfectly satisfied with the +selected cattle. + +The barrow-boy now came up, and announced that from the look-out tree he +had seen the other cowherd coming up at a gallop. + +"Running his horse!" growled the overseer. "Just let him show his face +here. I'll thrash him till he forgets even his own name." + +"But you won't really strike him?" + +"No, for whoever beats a cowherd will have to kill him before he cures +him in that way, and he's my favourite lad too! I brought him up and +christened him. He is my godson, the rascal!" + +"Yet you part with him? He is taking the herd to Moravia!" + +"Yes," said the overseer. "Just because I have a leaning towards the +boy. I don't like the way he is going on--head over ears in love with +that pale-faced girl at the Hortobagy inn. 'Tis a bad business. The girl +has a sweetheart already. A csikos, who is away soldiering; and if he +comes home on leave and the lads meet, it will be like two angry bulls +who mean business. Much better that he should go away and take to some +pretty little Annie up there, and forget all about his yellow rose." + +In the meantime the veterinary had examined every beast separately, and +had made out a certificate for each. Then the taligas marked the buyer's +initials in vermilion on their hides--for all the herdsmen can write. + +The clattering hoofs of the horse which carried the cowboy could now be +heard. His sleepiness had vanished with the sharp ride, and the morning +air had cleared his head. He sprang smartly from the saddle, at some +distance from the corral, and came up leading his horse by the bridle. + +"You rag-tag and bobtail!" called out the overseer from the front of the +enclosure. "Where the devil have you been?" + +Not a word said the lad, but slipped the saddle and bridle off his +horse. It was white with foam, and taking a corner of his coat he rubbed +its chest, wiped it down, and fastened on the halter. + +"Where were you? by Pontius Pilate's copper angel! Coming an hour behind +the gentry you should have brought with you. Eh, scoundrel?" + +Still the lad was silent, fiddled with the horse, and hung saddle and +bridle on the rack. + +The overseer's face grew purple. He screamed the louder, "Will you +answer me, or shall I have to bore a hole in your ears?" + +Then the cowboy spoke. "You know, master, that I am deaf and dumb." + +"Damn the day you were born!" cried the overseer. + +"Do you think I invented that story that you should mock me? Don't you +see the sun is up?" + +"Well, is it my fault that the sun is up?" + +The others began to laugh, while the overseer's wrath increased. + +"Take care, you blackguard, better not attempt to trifle with me, for if +I once lay hands on you, I'll mangle you like unbleached linen." + +"I'll be there too, you bet!" + +"Indeed you won't, rascal," exclaimed the overseer, who himself could +not help laughing. "There! talk to him in German any of you who can!" + +The manager of the stables thereupon thought he might have a talk with +the herdsman in German. + +"You're a fine strong fellow!" he said, "I wonder they didn't make an +Hussar of you. Why did they not enlist you? What defect could they +find?" + +The cowboy made a wry grimace, for peasant lads do not much care for +those sort of questions. + +"I think they did not take me for a soldier," he answered, "because +there are two holes in my nose." + +"There, you see, he can't talk sense!" exclaimed the overseer. "Clear +out, you betyar, to the watering--not there! What did I tell you? Are +you tipsy? Can't you see the cows are all corralled, and who is to +bring out the bull?" + +It takes a man, and no mere stripling, to take a bull out of the herd, +and this Ferko Lacza was a master of the art. With sweet words and +caresses, such as he might use to a pet lamb, he coaxed out the beast +which belonged to Mr. Sajgato, and led him in front of the gentlemen. A +splendid animal he was too; massive head, sharp horns, and great +black-ringed eyes. There he stood, allowing the cowboy to scratch his +shaggy forehead, and licking his hand with his rough, rasping tongue. + +"And the beast has only seen the third grass," said its owner. The +herdsmen reckon the age of their cattle according to the grass, that is +the summers they have lived through. + +Meanwhile the painter did not let slip the opportunity of making a +sketch of the great horned beast and its companion. "The cowboy must +stand just like that with his hand on the horns." The lad, however, was +not used to posing, and it injured his dignity. + +When their models are restless, artists often try and amuse them with +conversation. + +"Tell me," asked the painter--the others were inspecting the cows--"is +it true that you herdsmen can cheat about your cattle at the market?" + +"Why, yes. The master has this very moment taken in the gentleman with +the bull. He made it out to be three years old, and see, there is not an +eye tooth left in its head!" He opened the animal's mouth as he spoke to +prove the fact of the deception. + +The painter's sense of honour was even keener than his passion for art. +He immediately stopped painting. "I have finished," he said, and hastily +closing his sketch-book, he departed in search of his friends, who were +standing among the chosen cattle in the enclosure. Then he revealed the +great secret. The manager of the stables was horror-struck. Opening the +mouths of two or three cows, he called out: + +"Look here, overseer! You warned us that cattle sellers like to 'green' +their customers, but I won't be done like this. Everyone of these cows +is so old that there is not an eye tooth left in its head." + +The overseer stroked his moustache, and answered with a broad grin, +"Yes, I know that joke; it came out in last year's calendar. The General +who was cheated in the Franco-Prussian War through not knowing that +cattle have no eye teeth." + +"Haven't they?" asked the manager in surprise, and when the doctor +assured him that it was so, he said petulantly, "Well, how should I know +about a cow's mouth? I am no cattle dentist. All my work has lain among +horses!" But he must needs vent his anger on somebody, so he flew upon +the painter for having led him into such a trap. "How could you?" he +demanded. The painter, however, was too much of a gentleman to betray +the cowboy, who had first taken him in. At last the taligas put an end +to the dispute by respectfully announcing that breakfast was waiting. + +The taligas is cook on the puszta. All this time he had been preparing +the herdsman's breakfast of "tesztas kasa," or meal porridge. Now, +bringing out the pot, he set it on a three-legged stool. The guests sat +round it, and to each he handed a long tin spoon with which to help +himself. "Excellent," pronounced the gentlemen, and when they had eaten, +the overseer and the herdsmen devoured what remained. The scrapings of +the pot fell to the taligas. Meanwhile, Mr. Sajgato was in the kitchen +preparing the "Hungarian coffee," which all who have been on the puszta +know so well. "Hungarian coffee" is red wine heated up with brown sugar, +cinnamon, and cloves. It tastes most delicious after such an early +outing on the plains. + +Then the taligas took the pot, rinsed it, filled it with water, and hung +it over the fire. The gulyas stew would be ready when the gentlemen +returned from their walk. They would then taste something really good! + +Ferko Lacza showed the company round, pointing out to the strangers all +the sights of the puszta, such as the wind shelter and the railed-in +burying place for cattle. + +"In the good old days," he explained, "if a beast died, we just left it +where it fell, and the vultures came in flocks and picked it clean. Now, +since this new order has come out, we have to inform the vet over at the +Mata Farm, who comes and inspects it, writes down what it died of, and +bids us bury it without fail. But we are sorry to see so much good meat +wasted, so we manage to take a chunk or two, which we cut up small, +cook, and spread out in the sun to dry. This we stuff into our bags, and +whenever we want gulyas, why we throw as many dried handfuls of meat +into the pot as there are men to eat it." + +The painter looked the cowboy hard in the face, then turned to his +master. + +"Does this worthy herdsman of yours ever happen to speak the truth, +overseer?" + +"Very rarely, but this time he has, for once in his life." + +"Then thank you very much for your delightful gulyas." + +"Oh don't be alarmed!" said the overseer, "there's nothing bad about it. +Since God laid out the flat Hortobagy, that has always been the custom. +Look at those lads, can you desire healthier or stronger fellows? Yet +they have all grown up on carrion. The learned professors may talk as +much as they like, it doesn't hurt us Hungarians." + +The manager, however, listening to this revelation, strictly forbade his +Moravian drovers to touch the dish. + +"Though who knows," said the painter, "whether the old humbug has not +invented the whole story to scare us from the feast, and then have a +good laugh at us!" + +"We'll see," rejoined his comrade, "whether the vet eats it or not, for +he must know all about it." + +And now came the mirage, that seems like the realisation of a fairy +dream. + +Along the horizon lay a quivering sea, where high waves chased each +other from east to west, the real hills standing out as little islands +in their midst, and the stumpy acacias magnified into vast forests. +Oxen, grazing in the distance, were transformed into a street of +palaces. Boats which appeared to cross the ocean turned out on reaching +the shore to be nothing but some far off horses. The fantastic deception +is always at its height directly after sunrise, when whole villages are +often raised into the air, and brought so close that, with a glass, the +carts in their streets can be distinguished, their towers and houses +being all mirrored upside down on the billowy fairy sea. During cloudy +weather, however, they remain below the horizon. + +"Let the Germans copy this," exclaimed Mr. Sajgato to the admiring +group, while the painter tore his hair in despair. + +"Why am I compelled to see things I can't put on canvas? What _is_ +this?" + +"Why the mirage," said the overseer. + +"And what is the mirage?" + +"The mirage is the mirage of the Hortobagy." + +But Ferko Lacza knew more than his master. + +"The mirage is God's miracle," he told them, "sent to keep us poor +herdsmen from growing weary of the long day on the puszta." + +Finally the painter turned to the doctor for an explanation. "I know +even less," said he. "I have read Flammarion's book on the atmosphere, +where he speaks of the Fata Morgana as seen on the African deserts, the +coasts of the Arctic ocean, on the Orinoco, and in Sicily, also Humboldt +and Bompland's descriptions. But learned men know nothing of the +Hortobagy mirage, though it may be seen every hot summer's day from +sunrise to sundown. Thus are Hungary's wonderful natural phenomena +utterly ignored by the scientific world." + +It did the doctor good to pour out the bitterness of his heart before +the strangers, but he had no time to admire the marvels of nature, being +obliged to hurry back to his animal hospital and pharmacy at Mata. So, +bidding adieu to both his old and new friends, he jumped into his gig, +and jogged away over the plain. + +The herd was already scattered far out on the puszta, the cowboys +driving it forward. The grass near at hand is more luscious, but in +spring the cattle graze far afield, so that when summer scorches the +distant pastures, the nearer still remain for them. Very touching was +the farewell between the main herd and their companions in the +enclosure--like a chorus of Druids and Valkyre. + +The head of the stables had meanwhile been occupied with the financial +side of the business and in arranging the line of march. In crisp brand +new hundred florin notes he paid Mr. Sajgato, who stuffed them into his +pocket so carelessly, that the manager thought it not superfluous to +remind him to look after his money on the puszta. Whereupon the proud +citizen of Debreczin answered phlegmatically, + +"Sir, I have been plundered and deceived during the course of my +existence, but never by robbers or rogues. They were always 'honourable +gentlemen,' who knew how to thieve and cheat!" + +The overseer likewise received his fee. "If," said the old herdsman, "I +might--out of pure friendliness--give you a word of advice, I would +recommend you, as you have bought the cows, to take the calves as well." + +"What, we don't want a crowd of noisy brutes! Why should we take carts +for them?" + +"They will go on their own feet." + +"Yes, and hinder us at every step, by stopping the cows to drink. +Besides, the duke's chief reason for buying this herd, is, as I know, +not to experiment with pure Hungarian cattle, but to cross them with his +Spanish breed." + +"Of course that is quite another thing," said the overseer. + +There now remained nothing else to do but to start the new bought herd. +The manager gave the herdsman his credentials, and the chief constable +handed him his pass. These documents, together with the cattle +certificates, he put into his bag. Then he tied the bell round the +bull's neck, knotted his cloak round its horns, and bidding everyone +good day, sprang into the saddle. The overseer brought him his knapsack, +filled with bacon, bread, and garlic, enough for the week that they +would take to reach Miskolcz. Then he described the whole route to him. +How they must first go by Polgar, because of the mud at Csege, caused by +the spring rains, and sleep on the way in the little wood. They would +cross the Theiss by the ferry-boat, but should the water be high, it +would be better to wait there, and give hay to the beasts rather than +risk an accident. + +Then he impressed on his godson the necessity of so behaving in a +foreign country that Debreczin need never blush for him. "He must obey +his employers, hold his high spirits in check, never forget Hungarian, +nor abandon his faith, but keep all the Church feasts, and not squander +his earnings. If he married he must take care of his wife, and give his +children Hungarian names, and when he had time he might write a line to +his godfather, who would willingly pay the postage." + +Then, with a godfather's blessing, he left the young fellow to set out +on his journey. + +Now the two Moravian drovers had undertaken the task of driving the +herd, when free from the enclosure, in the desired direction, but +naturally the beasts, as soon as they were set at liberty, rushed about +on all sides, and when the drovers attempted to force them, turned, and +prepared to run at them. Then they again made for the corral and their +calves. + +"Go and help those poor Christians!" said the overseer to the herdsman. + +"Better crack the whip among them," suggested the painter. + +"The devil take your whip," growled the overseer; "do you want them to +run to the four ends of the earth? These are no horses!" + +"I said they ought to be tied together in pairs by their horns," cried +the manager. + +"All right, just leave it to me." + +With that the cowherd whistled, and a little sheep-dog jumped from the +karam, and barking loudly, scampered after the disordered herd, dashed +round the scattered animals, snapped at the heels of the lazy ones, and +in less than two minutes had brought the whole drove into a well-ordered +military file, marching behind the bull with the bell. + +Then the cowherd also bounded after them, crying "Hi, Rosa! Csako! +Kese!" He knew the name of everyone of the twenty-four, and they obeyed. +As for the bull, it was called "Buszke"--"Proud one." + +Thus, under this leadership, the herd moved quietly off over the wide +plain. For long the gentlemen gazed after it, till it arrived at the +brink of the quivering fairy sea. Then suddenly each beast grew +gigantic, more like a mammoth than a cow, jet black in colour, and with +legs growing to a fearful length, until at last there appeared to be +attached to them a second cow, moving along with the other, only upside +down. Herdsmen, dog, drovers, all followed them head downwards. + +The painter sank back on the grass, his arms and legs extended. + +"Well, if I tell this at the Art Club in Vienna, they will kick me out +at the door." + +"A bad sign," said Mr. Sajgato, shaking his head. "It's well the money +is in my pocket." + +"Yes, the cattle are not home yet," muttered the overseer. + +"What I wonder at," observed the manager, "is why some enterprising +individual has not taken the whole show on lease." + +"Ah!" said Mr. Sajgato with proud stolidity. "No doubt they would take +it to Vienna if they could. But Debreczin won't give it up." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +The veterinary and his gig jolted merrily over the puszta. His good +little horse knew its lesson by heart, and needed neither whip nor +bridle. So, the doctor could take out his note-book, reckon, and +scribble. All at once, looking up, he noticed a csikos approaching, his +horse galloping wildly. + +The pace was so mad that both rider and steed seemed to be out of their +minds. Suddenly the horse rushed towards him, stood still, reared, and +then swerved aside, taking another direction. Its rider sat with head +thrown back, and arched body, clutching the bridle in both hands, while +the horse shook itself, and began to neigh and snort in a frightened +manner. + +Seeing this, the doctor seized whip and reins, and made every endeavour +to overtake the horseman. As he got closer he recognised the csikos. +"Sandor Decsi!" he exclaimed. And the rider appeared to know him also, +and to slacken the bridle as if to allow the horse to go nearer. The +clever animal reached the doctor's gig, puffing and blowing, and there +stopped of its own accord. It shook its head, snorted, and, in fact, did +everything but speak. + +The lad sat in the saddle, bent backwards, his face staring at the sky. +The bridle had dropped from his fingers, but his legs still gripped the +sides of his horse. + +"Sandor, lad! Sandor Decsi!" called the doctor. But the boy seemed not +to hear him, or hearing, to be incapable of speech. + +Jumping from his trap, the doctor went up to the rider, caught him round +the waist, and lifted him out of the saddle. + +"What ails you?" he said. + +But the lad was silent. His mouth was shut, his neck bent back, and his +breath came in quick gasps. His eyes, wide open, had a ghastly gleam, +which the dilation of the pupils rendered all the more hideous. + +Laying him flat on the turf, the doctor began to examine him. "Pulse +irregular, sometimes quick, sometimes stopping completely, pupils widely +dilated, jaws tightly closed, back curved. This young fellow has been +_poisoned_!" he cried, "and with some vegetable poison, too." + +The doctor had found the csikos midway between the Hortobagy inn and the +little settlement at Mata. Probably he was on his way to the hamlet when +the poison first began to act, and had tried as long as consciousness +lasted to get there; but when the spasms seized him, his movements +became involuntary, and the convulsive twitching of his arms had +startled the horse. It was also foaming at the mouth. + +The doctor next attempted to lift him into the gig, but the lad was too +heavy, and he could not manage it. Still, to leave him on the puszta was +impossible. Before he could return with help the eagles would already be +there, tearing at the unfortunate man. All this time the horse looked on +intelligently, as if it would speak, and, now bending its head over its +master, it gave some short abrupt snorts. + +"Well, help me then," said the doctor. + +Why should he not understand, a puszta steed, who has three-quarters of +a soul at least? Seeing the doctor struggling with his master, it caught +hold of his waistcoat with his teeth, and raised him, and so between +them, they managed to get the csikos into the gig. Then the doctor +knotted the horse's halter to the back of the trap, and galloped on to +the settlement. + +There, it is true, were hospital and pharmacy, but only for animals. The +doctor himself was but a cattle doctor. In such cases, however, he may +help who can. The question was, could he? + +The first thing to do was to discover what poison was at work, +strychnine or belladonna. At all events, black coffee could do no harm. + +Arrived at the farm, the doctor called out his assistant and his +housekeeper. Coffee was ready, but aid was necessary before the patient +could swallow. His jaws were so tightly locked that they had to force +his teeth apart with a chisel before it could be poured down. + +"Ice on his head, a mustard plaster on his stomach," ordered the doctor; +and there being no spare person at hand, he carried out his own +directions, at the same time giving instructions to his assistant, and +writing a letter at the table. "Listen," he said, "and think of what I +am telling you. Hurry in the gig to the Hortobagy inn, and hand this +letter to the innkeeper. If he is not at home, then tell the coachman my +orders are to put the horses in the caleche, and go as fast as he +possibly can to town, and give this sealed letter to the head doctor +there. He must wait and bring him back. I am a veterinary surgeon, and +on oath not to practise on beasts 'with souls.' The case needs help +urgently, and the doctor will bring his own medicine. But ask the +innkeeper's daughter for every grain of coffee she may have in the +house, for that the patient must drink until the real doctor comes. Now, +see how sharp you can be!" + +The assistant understood the task imposed on him, and made all haste to +get under way. The poor little grey had hardly had breathing time +before it was rattling back to the inn. + +Klari happened to be on the verandah, watering her musk-geraniums, when +the gig drove up. + +"What brings you, Pesta," she asked, "in such a fearful hurry?" + +"A letter for the master." + +"Well, it will be difficult to get a word out of him, because he is just +putting a new swarm into the hive." + +"But it is an order from the vet," said Pesta, "to send the carriage to +town immediately for the best doctor." + +"The doctor? Is someone ill? Who has the ague now?" + +"None of us, for the doctor picked him up on the meadow. It is Sandor +Decsi, the csikos." + +The girl gave a cry, and the watering-can fell from her hands. "Sandor? +Sandor is ill?" + +"So ill that he is trying to climb up the wall, and bite the bed-clothes +in his agony. Somebody has poisoned him." + +The girl had to clutch the door with both hands to prevent herself +falling. + +"Our doctor is not sure what is killing the herdsman, so he is obliged +to summon the town doctor to inspect him." + +Then Klari muttered something, but what could not be heard. + +"See, leave go the door, miss," said the assistant, "and let me in to +look for the master." + +"Doesn't he know what has hurt him?" stammered the girl. + +"And the doctor's message to you," added Pesta, "is to collect all the +ground coffee in the house, and give it to me. Till the other doctor +comes with medicine, he is treating Sandor Decsi with coffee, for he +can't tell what poison they gave the poor fellow." Then he hurried off +to search for the innkeeper. + +"He can't tell what poison," murmured Klari to herself, "but I can--if +that be the danger, why I could tell the doctor, and then he would at +once know what to give him." + +She ran into her room, and opening the chest took from its bottom, the +man-shaped witch roots. These she stuffed into her pocket. + +Cursed be she who had given the evil counsel, and cursed be she who had +followed it! + +Then she set to work grinding coffee, so that by the time the assistant +returned from the garden, where he had been forced to help with the +swarm, the tin box was quite full. + +"Now give me the coffee, miss," said he. + +"I am coming with you." + +The assistant was a sharp lad and saw through the sieve. "Do not come, +miss," he said, "you really must not see Sandor Decsi in such a state. +It is enough to freeze one's marrow to look at his agony. Besides, the +doctor would never allow it." + +"It is just the doctor I want to speak to," said the girl. + +"But then who will attend to the customers?" + +"The servant-girl is here, and the lad, they'll manage." + +"But at least ask the master's permission," begged Pesta. + +"Not I!" cried Klari, "he would not let me go. There, get out of the +way." + +So saying, she pushed the assistant aside, flew out into the courtyard, +and with one bound was seated in the gig. There she seized the reins, +flourished the whip about the poor grey's back, and drove where she +wished. The assistant left behind gasping, shouted after her, + +"Miss Klari! Miss Klari! Stop a bit!" But though he ran till he was +breathless, he only caught the gig at the bridge, where the tired horse +had to go slowly up the incline. Then he too jumped on to the seat. + +Never had the grey's back felt such thwacks as on this drive to Mata! By +the time they reached the sandy ground, it could only go at a walk, and, +the girl, impatient, sprang from the gig, and catching hold of the +canister, rushed over the clover field to the doctor's farm, which she +reached panting and speechless. + +Through the window the doctor saw her coming and went to meet her, +barring her way at the verandah. + +"You come here, Klarika! How is that?" + +"Sandor?" gasped the girl. + +"Sandor is ill." + +Through the open door the girl could hear the groans of the sick man. + +"What has happened to him?" + +"I don't know myself, and I don't want to accuse anyone." + +"But I know!" cried the girl, "someone--a wicked girl--gave him +something bad to drink. I know who it was too! She stirred it into his +wine, to make him love her, and that made him ill. I know who it was, +and how it was." + +"Miss Klari, do not play the traitor. This is a serious crime, and must +be proved." + +"Here are the proofs." + +And with that girl took the roots out of her pocket, and laid them +before the doctor. + +"Oh!" cried the doctor, stupefied, "why, this is _Atropa mandragora_--a +deadly poison!" + +The girl clapped her hands to her face, "How did I know it was poison?" +she asked. + +"Klarika," said the doctor, "do not startle me more or I shall jump out +of the window. Surely _you_ did not poison Sandor?" + +The girl nodded mutely. + +"And what in thunder did you do it for?" + +"He was so unkind to me, and once a gypsy woman made me believe that if +I steeped that root in his wine I should have him at my feet again." + +"Well, I never! . . . You must hold traffic with gypsy women, must you? +To school you won't go, where the master would teach you to distinguish +poisonous plants. No, no, you will only learn from a gypsy vagabond! +Well, you have made your lad nice and obedient!" + +"Will he die?" asked the girl with an imploring look. + +"Die? Must he die next? No, his body and soul are not stitched together +in such a ramshackle fashion." + +"Then he will live!" cried the girl, and knelt down before the doctor, +snatching his hands, and kissing them repeatedly. + +"Don't kiss my hand," said he, "it is all over mustard plaster, and +will make your mouth swell." + +So she kissed his feet, and when he forbade that, also his footprints. +Down on the brick floor she went and kissed the muddy footprints with +her pretty, rosy lips. + +"Now, stand up and talk sense," said the doctor. "Have you brought the +coffee? ground and roasted? Right--for that is what he must drink till +the doctor comes. It is well you told me what poison the lad took, for +now I know the antidote. But as for you, child, make up your mind to +vanish from these parts as soon as you like, for what you have done is a +crime, which the town doctor will report, and the matter will come +before the court and judge. So fly away, where there are no tongues to +tell on you." + +"I won't fly," said the girl, drying her tears with her apron. "Here is +my neck, more I can't offer. If I have done wrong, it is only just that +I should suffer for it, but from this spot I won't stir! The groaning I +hear through the door binds me faster than if my feet were in fetters. +Doctor! sir! for God's sake let me be near to nurse him, to foment his +head, smooth his pillows, and wipe the sweat from his brow." + +"Indeed! Is that your idea? Why, they would clap me into the madhouse, +if I entrusted the nursing of the victim to the poisoner." + +A look of unspeakable pain came over the girl's face. + +"Does the doctor believe that I am really bad then?" she asked. Glancing +round she caught sight of the damnatory root lying on the window-sill, +and before he could stop her, had grasped it, and was putting it into +her mouth. + +"No, no, Klarika," said the doctor, "do not play with that poison. Don't +bite it, take it out of your mouth instantly. I would rather allow you +to go to the patient, though it is no sight for you, as I tell you +beforehand. No tender-hearted person should see such suffering." + +"I know; your assistant told me everything. How one cannot recognise +him, his face is so changed. Dark blotches instead of healthy red +colour, death-like shadow on his forehead, and cold perspiration +shining on his cheeks. His eyes are wide open with a glassy stare, his +lips seem gummed together, and if he opens them they foam. How he +groans, struggles, gnashes his teeth, tosses his arms about, and +contorts his back! An agonising sight! But let this be my punishment, to +feel his moans and sufferings, like so many sharp knives stabbing my +heart. And if I do not actually witness them with my own eyes and ears, +I shall still seem to see and hear them as acutely as if I was really +present." + +"Well," said the doctor, "let us see if you are really brave enough. +Take charge of the coffee-pot, and have black coffee always ready; but +if you burst out crying I will push you out of the room." + +Then he opened the door and allowed her to enter. + +The world went blue and green to the girl as her eyes fell on her +sweetheart lying there. Where was the radiant young fellow who had left +her such a short time ago? Now it was painful to look at him, to endure +the sight of him. + +The doctor called in his assistant, and the girl stifled her sobs as +best she might, over the coffee-pot. If the doctor caught the sound of +one he would glance at her reproachfully, and she would pretend it was a +cough. + +The two men applied mustard plasters to the patient's feet. + +"Now bring your coffee and pour it into his mouth," said the doctor. + +But that was a business! Both had to exert their full strength to hold +down the lad's arms, and prevent his flinging them about. + +"Now, Klarika, open his mouth; not like that! You must force his teeth +apart with the chisel. Don't be afraid, he won't swallow it. See, he +holds it as fast as a vice." + +The girl obeyed. + +"Now pour in the coffee by the spout, gently. There you are a clever +girl. I can recommend you to the Sisters of Mercy as a sick nurse!" + +There was a smile on the girl's face, but her heart was breaking. + +"If only he would not look at me with those eyes!" + +"Yes," said the doctor, "that is the worst of all, those two staring +eyes. I think so too." + +At length there seemed some little improvement, possibly the effect of +the remedy. The patient's groans became less frequent, and the cramp in +his limbs relaxed, but his forehead burned like fire. The doctor +instructed the girl how to wring out the cold water bandage--lay it on +the aching head, leave it a little, and then change it again. She did +all that he bade her. + +"Now I see that you have a brave heart," he said, and in time came her +reward, for to her joy the sufferer suddenly closed his eyelids, and the +terrible stare of those black-shadowed eyes ceased altogether. Later his +mouth relaxed and they were able to open the close-shut jaws without +difficulty. + +Maybe it was the prompt application of the antidote; maybe the dose of +poison had not been strong, but by the time the doctor from town had +arrived, the patient was very unmistakably better. The veterinary and +the doctor conversed in Latin, which the girl could not understand, but +her instinct told her that it was of her they were speaking. Then the +doctor ordered this and that, and after writing the _usum repertum_, +returned to his carriage, and hastened back to town. + +Not so the gendarme whom he had brought with him on the box. He +remained. Hardly had the physician gone, when another trap rumbled into +the yard. This was the Hortobagy innkeeper, who had come to demand his +daughter. + +"Gently now, master," they said, "the young woman is under arrest. Don't +you see the gendarme?" + +"I always did say that when once a girl loses her head she goes mad +altogether. Well, it's no concern of mine." And with charming +indifference the old innkeeper thereupon turned and drove back to the +Hortobagy inn. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +All night long the girl watched beside him--to no one would she yield +her place at the sick bed. She had been up till dawn the night before as +well, but how differently occupied! This was her penance. + +Now and then she nodded sleepily in her chair, but the slightest moan +from the sick man sufficed to wake her. Sometimes she renewed the cold +bandage on his head, and bathed her own eyes to keep herself awake. At +the first cock-crow kindly sleep settled softly on the patient. He +stretched himself out and began to snore with beautiful regularity. At +first the girl was terrified, and thought the death struggle was at +hand, but presently she grew very happy. This was a good honest snore, +such as could only emanate from healthy lungs; and besides, as she +reflected, it kept her wide awake. When the cock crew for the second +time, he was in a sound slumber. + +Then he started from sleep and yawned widely. + +Thank heaven! He could yawn again. + +The spasms had quite ceased, and all who suffer from their nerves know +the worth of a good yawn after the attack. It is as good as a lottery +prize. + +The girl wished to give him more coffee, but the man shook his head. +"Water," he murmured. + +So she rapped through to the doctor, who was reposing in the next room, +to know if she might give the patient water, as he was asking for it. + +The doctor rose, and came out in dressing-gown and slippers, to see for +himself. He was most satisfied. "He is going on well; to be thirsty is a +good sign. Give him as much water as he wants." The invalid drank a +whole carafe and then dropped into a quiet slumber. + +"Now he is fast asleep," said the doctor to Klari, "so you may go and +lie down on the bed in the housekeeper's room. I will leave my door +open, and take care of him." + +But the girl pleaded so hard to be allowed to stay, to lean her head on +the table and thus steal a nap, that he at last let her do as she +pleased. Suddenly she awoke with a start to find it was day, and the +sparrows were twittering at the windows. + +The patient was then dreaming as well as sleeping. His lips moved, he +murmured something and laughed. His eyes half opened, but evidently with +a great effort, for they closed immediately. But his parched lips seemed +to be asking for something. + +"Shall I give you water?" whispered the girl. + +"Yes," he muttered, with his eyes shut. + +So she brought him the water bottle, but he had not strength enough in +his arms--this great fellow--even to raise the tumbler to his mouth. She +had to lift his head and give it to him. Even while drinking he fell +half asleep. + +Hardly had his head touched the pillow when he began to hum +aloud--probably a continuation of the gay air of his dreams: + + "Why not love this world of ours? + Gypsy maid, Magyar maid, both are flowers." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +A day or two later the lad was on his feet again. Such tough fellows as +he, born and bred on the puszta, do not linger long on the sick list +when once the crisis is past. They abhor bed. So on the third day he +told the doctor that he wished to get back to the horses at his place of +service. + +"Wait a bit, Sandor, my boy. Somebody has to speak with you first." + +"Somebody" turned out to be the examining magistrate. On the third day, +after the report, this official, with his notary and a gendarme, arrived +at Mata to conduct the formal inquiry. The accused--the young woman--had +already been examined, and had given a full account of everything. She +denied nothing, only saying in her defence that she was very much in +love with Sandor, and wished to make him love her as well. + +All this was taken down in the protocol and signed. Nothing now remained +but to confront the prisoner with her victim. And this was done as soon +as the herdsman had regained sufficient strength. + +Meanwhile he never once uttered the girl's name in the doctor's +presence, pretending not to know that she had been in the house nursing +him, and as the young man recovered consciousness, she ceased to show +herself at all. Before confronting her with him, the magistrate read out +the deposition to the girl, who confirmed it anew, and would not have a +word altered. + +Then Sandor Decsi was brought forward. + +As soon as the csikos entered the room he began to act a preconcerted +role. His swaggering betyar airs were such that one would have thought +he had only learnt to play the csikos on the stage. When the judge asked +his name he stared at him over his shoulder. + +"My worthy name? Sandor Decsi! I have hurt no one, nor have I stolen +anything, that I should be dragged here by gendarmes. Besides, I am not +under civil authority. I am still a soldier of the Emperor, and if +anyone has a complaint against me, let him go before the regimental +authorities, and there I will answer him." + +The magistrate silenced him. "Gently, young man, no one is accusing you +of anything. We only want enlightenment in an affair closely concerning +yourself. That is the object of this investigation. Tell us when were +you last in the taproom of the Hortobagy inn?" + +"I can inform you exactly. What is there to hide? But first send away +this gendarme at my back. Because if he should happen to come too near, +I am touchy and might give him a blow." + +"Now, now, not so fast, young fellow. The gendarme is not guarding you. +Tell us when it was that you visited Miss Klari here--the day she served +you with wine?" + +"Well, I will as soon as I have got my wits together. The last time I +was at the Hortobagy inn was last year, on Demeter's day, when they +engage the shepherds. Then they took me for a soldier, and I have not +been in the place since." + +"Sandor!" broke in the girl. + +"Yes, Sandor is my name. So they christened me." + +"Then you were not there three days ago, when the barmaid gave you the +wine mixed with mandragora, which made you so ill?" + +"I _never_ was at the Hortobagy inn, nor did I see Miss Klari. It is +half a year since I asked for any of her wine!" + +"Sandor, you are lying for my sake!" cried the girl. + +The judge grew angry. + +"Do not try to mislead the authorities with your denials. The girl has +already confessed everything--that she made you drink wine poisoned with +mandrake roots." + +"Why, then, the young woman lied," said the herdsman. + +"But what reason could she have for accusing herself of a crime which +entails such heavy punishment?" + +"Why, what reason? Because when the mad fit comes upon a girl, she +simply raves without rhyme or reason. Miss Klari fancies our eyes don't +meet each other's often enough, so she has an ill will against me, and +now she takes to accusing herself to compel me to let out the _other +one's_ name, out of sheer compassion--the pretty lass, to whom I went to +lose my soul and cure my heart, and who gave me the charm to drink. +Well, if I choose I'll tell, but if I don't, I won't. This is Miss +Klari's revenge for my having neither called on her, nor gone near her +since I came home on leave." + +At these words the girl turned on him like a fury. + +"Sandor!--you who have never lied in your life--what ails you? When the +one little lie, which they put in your mouth, would have saved you from +soldiering, that you could not tell! Now you deny being with me three +days ago. Then who brought me the comb that I have done up my hair +with?" + +The csikos laughed grimly. + +"Who brought it, and why? Surely the young lady knows better than I!" + +"Sandor, this is not right of you! I don't mind if they put me in the +pillory for my wrong-doing, and lash and scourge me. Here is my head; +let them cut it off if they like. But don't tell me you never cared for +me, nor came to see me, for that is worse than death." + +The judge flew into a rage. "Confound you," he cried. "Settle your love +affairs between yourselves. Since a flagrant case of poisoning has been +committed, I want to know who was the culprit!" + +"Now answer!" exclaimed the girl, with flaming cheeks. "Answer that!" + +"Well, well. Since I must, so be it, I can tell you all about it. On the +Ohat puszta I fell in with a gypsy band in tents. One of them, a lovely +girl, with eyes like sloes, who was standing outside, spoke to me, and +invited me in. They were roasting a sucking pig, and we enjoyed +ourselves. I drank their wine, and at once felt that it had a bitter +taste; but the kisses of the gypsy lass were so sweet that I forgot all +about it." + +"You _lie_, _lie_, _lie_!" shrieked the girl. "You have invented that +story this very minute!" + +The herdsman laughed loudly, clapped one hand to the crown of his head, +snapped his fingers in the air, and started his favourite song: + + "Why not love this world of ours? + Gypsy maid, Magyar maid, both are flowers." + +Not this very minute had he invented this tale, but on that night of +pain when the "Yellow Rose" had sat smoothing his pillows and bathing +his brow. Then, with his aching head, he had thought out a plan to save +his faithless sweetheart. + +The judge struck his fist on the table. + +"None of your nonsense before me, making fun of the matter." + +"I make fun of the matter!" exclaimed the csikos, becoming serious +instantly. "I swear before God above, all I have said is true." + +He raised his three fingers, and the girl screamed out, + +"No, no! Do not perjure yourself! Do not risk the salvation of your +soul!" + +"The devil take you both, for you are both mad." This was the judge's +verdict. "Notary, take down the herdsman's statement regarding the +gypsy, who will be charged with committing the crime. As to her +whereabouts, that the police must discover. It is their business. You +two can go; if necessary, we will summon you again." + +Then they let the girl free. She deserved a little fatherly rebuke, and +that she got. + +The lad remained behind to hear his deposition taken down, and to sign +it. The girl waited on the verandah for him to come out, his horse being +tethered to an acacia hard by. + +The lad, however, first went to the doctor to thank him for his +unremitting kindness. The doctor having attended the inquiry, had, of +course, heard everything. + +"Well, Sandor," he said, as soon as the thanks had been got over, "I +have seen many famous actors on the stage, but never one who played the +betyar as you did!" + +"I did right, didn't I?" asked the lad gravely. + +"Yes, indeed, you are an honourable fellow. But say a kind word to the +girl if you meet her. Poor thing, she never meant to do such wrong." + +"I am not angry with her. May God bless you, sir, for your great +goodness." + +As he stepped out on to the verandah, the girl stopped him, and seized +his hand. + +"Sandor, what have you done? Sent your soul to perdition, sworn falsely, +told a lying tale, all to set me free! You have denied ever having loved +me, that my body may escape the lash, and my slender neck the blow that +would sever it. Why have you done this?" + +"That is my affair. This much I will tell you; from henceforth, one of +us two I must hate and despise. Do not cry, you are not that one! I dare +no longer look in your eyes, because I see myself reflected there, and I +am worth no more than the broken button that is coming off my waistcoat. +God bless you." + +With that he untied his horse from the acacia, sprang on to it, and +dashed off into the puszta. + +The girl gazed and gazed after him, till her sight grew dim from tears. +Then she sought till she found the broken button he had cast on the +floor. This she placed next her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +It happened just as the overseer had predicted. When the herd reached +the Polgar ferry it was impossible to cross. The Theiss, the Sajo, the +Hernad, all were in flood. The water touched the planking of the +foot-bridge. The ferry-boat had been hauled up, and moored to the +willows on the bank. Great trees, torn up by their roots, were coming +down on the turbulent dirty flood; and flocks of wild ducks, divers, and +cormorants were disporting themselves on the waters, fearless of the gun +at such a time. + +But that communication should be stopped was a dire misfortune, not only +for the Duke's cattle, but much more so for all the market-goers from +Debreczin and Ujvaros, striving to reach the Onod fair. There stood +their carts, out among the puddles, under the open sky, while their +owners bewailed the bad luck in the one small drinking-room of the +Polgar ferry-house. + +Ferko Lacza went off to buy hay for the herd, and purchased a whole +stack. "For here we can sit kicking our heels for three days at the +shortest!" + +Now, by good luck, there was, among those bound for the market, a +purveyor of cooked meat, with her enormous iron frying pan, and fresh +pork, ready sliced. She found a ready sale for her wares, setting up a +makeshift cook-shop in a hut constructed of maize stalks. Firewood she +did not need to buy, the Theiss brought plenty. Wine the old innkeeper +had, sharp, but good, since none better was to be got. Besides, every +Hungarian carries his pipe, tobacco, and his bag of provisions when he +gives his mind to travel. + +So the time passed in forming new acquaintances. The Debreczin bootmaker +and the tanner from Balmaz-Ujvaros were old friends, while the vendor of +cloaks was universally addressed as "Daddy." The ginger-bread baker, who +thought himself better than the others because he wore a long coat with +a scarlet collar, sat at a separate table, but, nevertheless, joined in +the conversation. Later, a horse-cooper appeared; but as his nose was +crooked, he was only allowed to talk standing. When the cowherd entered, +a place was squeezed out for him at the table, for even townsfolk +respect a herdsman's position of trust. The Moravian drovers stayed +outside to watch the cattle. + +The tittle-tattle went on pleasantly and quietly as yet, young Mistress +Pundor not having arrived. When she put in an appearance, nobody would +get in a word edgeways. But her cart had evidently stuck on the way, at +some seductive inn, she having seized the opportunity of travelling with +the carpenter, her brother-in-law. He was taking tulip-decorated chests +to the Onod fair, while young Mistress Pundor supplied the world with +soap and tallow candles. When the herdsman entered, the room was so full +of smoke that he could hardly see. + +"Then tell us, 'Daddy,'" the shoemaker was saying to the tanner, "for +you at Ujvaros are nearer the Hortobagy inn than we; how did the +innkeeper's girl poison the csikos?" + +At these words the cowboy felt as if he had been shot through the heart. + +"How was it? Well, pretty little Klarika there peppered the stew she was +making him with crows' claws." + +"I know otherwise," interrupted the ginger-bread baker. "Little Klari +put datura in the honeymead--the stuff they use for stupefying fish." + +"Well, of course, the gentleman must know best, for he has a gold watch +chain! They sent for the regimental surgeon from Ujvaros to dissect the +deceased csikos, and he found the claws in his inside. They put them in +spirits, to be produced as evidence at the trial!" + +"So you have killed the poor fellow! We didn't hear he died from the +poison, only went mad, and was sent up to Buda to have a hole bored in +his head, for all the strength of the poison had gone there." + +"Sent him up to Buda, did they? Sent him underground, you mean! Why, my +wife herself spoke to the very maker of imitation flowers who made those +strewn over Decsi's shroud. That is a fact!" + +"Now, now! Mistress Csikmak is here with her fried meat, and as she came +a day later from Debreczin, she must know the truth. Let us call her +in." + +But Mistress Csikmak, being unable to leave her frizzling pan, could +only give her opinion through the window. She, likewise, buried the +poisoned csikos. The Debreczin clerk had chanted over his grave, and the +priest had preached a farewell sermon. + +"And what happened to the girl?" inquired three voices at once. + +"The girl! She ran off with her lover--a cowboy; by whose advice she +poisoned the csikos. They are setting up a robber band together." + +Ferko Lacza listened quietly to all this. + +"Stuff and nonsense. Bosh!" exclaimed the ginger-bread baker, capping +her version. "I'm afraid you've not heard right, dear Mistress Csikmak. +They caught the girl directly, put her in irons, and brought her in +between gendarmes. My lad was there when they took her to the +Town-House." + +Still the cowherd listened without stirring. + +Suddenly, amid great commotion, arrived the above-mentioned +laggard--young Mistress Pundor, she foremost, then the driver, lastly +the brother-in-law, dragging a large chest. How polite a language is +Hungarian, even an individual like the soap-making lady has her title of +respect, "ifjasszony" (young mistress). + +"Now Mistress Pundor will tell us what happened to the girl at the inn +who poisoned the csikos," cried everyone. + +"Yes, of course. Dear soul. Just let me get my breath a bit." With that +she sat down on the large chest, a chair or bench would have smashed to +atoms under her form. + +"Did they catch pretty Klari? or has she run away?" + +"Oh, my dears, why they have tried her already, condemned to death she +is, to-morrow they put her in the convict's cell, and the execution is +the day after. The headsman comes to-day from Szeged, and they have +taken a room for him at the White Horse, because the folks at the Bull +refused him. 'Tis as true as I'm sitting here. I have it from the porter +himself, who comes to me for candles." + +"And what sort of death is she to have?" + +"Well, under the old rule--and richly she deserves it--they would set +her on straw and burn her. But seeing she is of the better class, and +her father of good family, they will only cut off her head. They +generally behead gentlefolk." + +"Ah, quit that, mistress," contradicted the ginger-bread man. "Do they +heed such things nowadays? Not a bit of it! Why, before '48, if I put on +my mantle with the silver buttons, they took me for--a gentleman, and +never asked me for toll on the bridge at Pest, but now I may wear my +mantle----" + +"Oh, drop your mantle with the silver buttons!" said the cloth merchant, +taking the word out of his mouth. + +"Let the young mistress here tell us what she has heard. What object +could the pretty lass have for contriving such a murder?" + +"Ah, 'tis a very strange business. One murder leads to another. A while +ago, a rich Moravian cattle-dealer came here buying cattle. He had much +money. Pretty Klari, there, talked it over with her lover, the cowherd, +and together they murdered the dealer, and threw him into the Hortobagy. +But the horseherd, who was also sweet on the girl, caught them at it, +and so first they divided the stolen money between them, and then +poisoned the csikos to put him out of the way." + +"And what about the cowherd then, has he been caught?" inquired the +bootmaker excitedly. + +"They would if they could, but he has vanished utterly. Gendarmes are +searching the whole puszta for him, and a price is set on his head. They +have stuck up his description, as I have read for myself, a hundred +dollars to whoever catches him alive. I know him well enough too!" + +Now, had Sandor Decsi been sitting there instead of Ferko Lacza, great +would have been the scene, for here was the moment for a real effective +bit of drama. To fling his loaded cudgel on the table, knock the chair +from under him, and shout out, "I am the herdsman on whose head they +have set a price. Which of you wants the hundred dollars?" + +Then the whole worthy company would have taken to their heels and fled, +some to the cellar, some up the chimney. + +But the cowboy was of a different temperament, and had been used all his +life to act with care and caution. Besides, his work among the cattle +had impressed upon him the imprudence of catching the bull by the horns. + +So leaning his elbows on the table, he asked calmly, "Would you then +recognise the herdsman from the description, mistress?" + +"Why not indeed! How could I help knowing him? He has bought my soap +often enough to be sure!" + +"But, dear me, ma'am," said the horse-cooper, who desired to display his +knowledge, "what use can a herdsman have for soap? Surely, all cowboys +wear blue shirts and breeches which never need washing, because the +linen has been first boiled in lard!" + +"Deary me! Sakes alive! Did you ever! So soap is only wanted for dirty +clothes, is it? A cowboy never shaves, does he? Perhaps he always wears +as long a beard as a Jew horse-cooper?" + +Everyone shrieked with laughter, much to the discomfiture of the snubbed +intruder. + +"Now, need I have exposed myself to that?" grumbled the unhappy man. + +"You don't happen to know the name," continued the herdsman, in a quiet +voice, "of that cowboy, mistress?" + +"Not know his name! It has but just slipped out of my mind. 'Tis on the +tip of my tongue, for I know him as well as my own child." + +"Is it Ferko Lacza?" + +"Yes, yes, that's it. Why, you've taken it out of my mouth. Perhaps you +know him yourself?" + +But the herdsman refrained from announcing that he knew him as well as +his father's only son. Quietly knocking out the ashes from his pipe, he +refilled it, rose, and propped up his cudgel against the straw-bottomed +chair to show it was engaged, and no one else might occupy it. Then, +relighting his pipe at the solitary candle burning on the middle of the +table, he left the room. Those remaining made remarks about him. + +"Surely something heavy as lead is weighing on that man!" + +"I don't like the look of his eyes!" + +"Could he know aught about the csikos' murder, think you?" + +Again the horse-dealer committed the offence of meddling in the +discussion. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "permit me to make the humble +observation that yesterday, when I was on the Ohat puszta, buying +horses, I there saw the murdered and poisoned Sandor Decsi, looking as +fresh and blooming as a rosy apple! He lassoed the colts for me. This is +as true as I live!" + +"_What?_ And you let us sit here telling lies to one another?" stormed +the whole assembly. "Here, clear out; get away!" + +No sooner said than done, they seized him by the collar and flung him +out of the room. + +The chucked-out traveller, smoothing his crumpled hat, spluttered and +swore, till he found a moral to fit the case. + +"Now, need I have exposed myself to that? What is the good of a Jew +speaking the truth?" + +Meanwhile, the cowherd going to the cattle proposed to the Moravian +drovers that they should go inside for a change and drink a glass of +wine; he would watch the cows. The chair with the stick beside it was +his. + +While he watched he picked up a bit of "poor man's peat," stuffing it up +his coat sleeve. What could he want with it? + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Lucky it is that no one outside the Hortobagy knows about this "poor +man's peat" which is gathered on the meadow-land. One thing is +certain--it is no lily-of-the-valley. It is the sole fuel of the puszta +herdsman, in fact, a sort of zoological peat. + +We remember the tale of the Hungarian landowner who, finding it +advisable to go abroad after the Revolution, chose free Switzerland as a +temporary place of residence. But his eyes never grew used to the high +mountains. Every evening, on withdrawing to his room, he would take a +piece of "peat," found on the pasture, and laying it on the hearth, +kindle it. Then, as he sat with closed eyes in the smell of the smoke, +he would once more fancy himself back on the wide, wide plains, among +the moving herds and tinkling cow bells, and all the rest for which his +soul longed. . . . + +Well, if this peat-smoke can exert such a strong influence on an +educated mind, how were it possible to doubt the following story? + +The travellers had to wait two more days at the Polgar ferry. + +On the third, about midnight, the ferry-man brought the glad tidings to +the expectant crowd, whose patience and provisions were alike exhausted, +that the Theiss had fallen greatly. The ferry-boat had been replaced, +and by morning they would be able to cross. + +Those with carts lost no time in running them on board, and arranging +them side by side. Next they took the horses. Then came the turn for the +cattle. Room was made for them with difficulty. The crush was great, but +mild, after all, to what theatre-goers usually endure! + +Last of all, the bull, the terror of everyone, was brought, and now no +one remained but the herdsman and his horse. The two Moravian drovers +took their places between the cows and the carts. But as yet no start +could be made. The tow-rope was strained taut by the water, and they +were obliged to wait till the sunshine could relax it somewhat. Moisture +was rising like steam all along its surface. + +So the cowherd, wishing to utilise the time, suggested that the +ferry-man might cook them a "paprikas" of fish. Nothing else eatable was +to be had, but a pot was at hand, likewise plenty of fish, left by the +receding waters. The boatmen caught them by sticking an oar under their +gills--fat carp, silurius, and sturgeon. These they hastily cleaned, cut +up, and cast into the pot, underneath which a little fire was kindled. + +Now all was ready, when the question rose: "Who has 'paprika'?" Every +ordinary, self-respecting Hungarian carries his own supply in his +knapsack; but after a three days' famine even "paprika" will give out! +Nevertheless, no "paprika," no fish stew. + +"I have some," said the cowboy, and pulled a wooden box from his sleeve. +Every one noted what a far-seeing man he must be to reserve his own +"paprika" for the last extremity, and henceforth regarded him as the +saviour of the party. + +The stew-pot was in the end of the ferry-boat, and to reach it the +herdsman traversed its whole length, the cattle being stationed about +the middle. But, then, who cares to let his box of "paprika" out of his +own hand? While the ferry-man was busy seasoning the fish with the red +pepper (Oken, writing about it, calls it _poison_; but that some wild +tribes dare to eat it), the cowboy took the opportunity to drop his +piece of "peat," unobserved into the fire. + +"I say! that 'paprikas' must be singeing! What a smell it has!" remarked +the cobbler presently. + +"Smell! Stink I would call it," corrected the itinerant cloak vendor. + +But the heavy greasy odour affected the noses of the cattle more +markedly. First, the bull grew restless, snuffed in the air, shook the +bell at his neck and lowed, then lowering his head and lifting his tail +began to bellow dangerously. At that the cows got excited, capered to +and fro, reared up on each others backs, and jostled to the side of the +ferry-boat. + +"Mother Mary! Holy Anna! Protect the ship!" shrieked the fat soap-maker. + +"Hurry up, mistress! seat yourself opposite. That will steady her +again," joked the shoemaker. + +But it was no joke. Every man on board had to clutch the rope to keep +the ferry-boat from tilting over; the other side dipped nearly to the +water. + +Suddenly the bull gave a bellow, and with one great bound, jumped into +the river. Another moment, and everyone of the four and twenty cows had +followed him over the edge. + +The ferry was just about half-way across. + +"Turn back! Turn back!" screamed the Moravian drovers, as the cattle +swam straight towards the bank they had left. They wanted the ferry-boat +to return instantly, that they might go after their beasts. + +"The devil a bit of turning back!" shrieked the market folk. "We must +cross! We are late enough for the fair as it is!" + +"No need to howl, lads," said the herdsman, with exceeding calm. "I'll +bring them to their right minds." + +He jumped on his horse, led it along to the end of the ferry, and +sticking spurs into its sides, leapt over the rail into the water. + +"See, the cowherd will overtake them, no fear!" So the cobbler assured +the despairing drovers. + +But the horse-cooper, left behind on the bank, for he had not managed to +find room for his horses on board, nor had wished to frighten them among +so many cattle, was of a contrary opinion. + +"You'll never see more of that herd!" he yelled to the travellers on the +ferry-boat. "You may whistle for them!" + +"There goes that Jonah again! Where is there a ham bone to shoot him +with?" stormed the cobbler. + +The herd neared the bank in straggling order, and reaching the shallows, +waded out to dry land. The herdsman was behind, for cattle swim faster +than a horse. When he too landed, he undid the stock-whip from his neck +and cracked it loudly. + +"There! He's turning them!" said the market people to console the +drovers. + +But the cracking of a whip only serves to make cattle run on the faster. + +The passengers found much exercise for their wit in this cattle +incident. The ferry-men assured them with oaths that it was not the +first time by any means that it had happened. Beasts brought from the +Hortobagy so often were assailed by home sickness that no sooner was the +ferry-boat put in motion than they would turn restive and spring +overboard, swim to the bank, and run back to the puszta. + +"Men have the same love of home and country," said the ginger-bread man, +who, having often read of it in books, recognised the complaint. + +"Ah, yes!" exclaimed Mistress Pundor, "no doubt the cows have gone home +to their little calves. That was the mistake, to separate the children +from their dear mothers!" + +"Now my idea is different," said the cobbler, who was nothing if not +sceptical. "I have heard often enough that those cunning betyars, when +they want to scatter a herd, put some grease in their pipes. The beasts, +when they smell it, go stark, staring mad, and scuttle away in all +directions. Then it is easy enough for the betyar to catch a nice little +lot for himself. Now I scent something of the sort in this business." + +"What you smell something, Daddy, and you don't run away from it?" + +Everyone laughed. + +"Wait a bit! Just you wait till we get on shore!" said the cobbler. + +The Moravian drovers, however, saw nothing laughable in the vagaries of +their herd, nor even matter suitable for a discussion on natural +history, but began howling and lamenting like burnt-out gypsies. + +The old ferry-man, who talked Slav, attempted to console them. "Now +don't howl, lads. 'Nye stekat.' He's not stolen your cows, the good +herdsman. Those two letters, 'D.T.,' on the copper plate at the side of +his cap don't mean 'dastard, thief,' but Debreczin Town. He can't run +off with them. When we come over again they'll all be standing there in +a group. He'll drive them back, sure enough. Why even his dog went after +him! But when we take the cattle on board again we must fasten the cows +three together, and tie the bull by the horns to that iron ring. It will +be all right, only you must pay the passage money twice." + +A good hour and a half elapsed before the ferry-boat reached the other +bank, unloaded, reloaded, and returned to the Hortobagy side of the +river. Then the drovers ran up the hill to the ferry-house, and sought +their cattle everywhere. But none were to be seen. + +The horse-dealer said that the angry beasts had galloped madly past +towards the brushwood, and had quickly disappeared among the willows. +They did not go towards the high road, but ran down wind, heads to the +ground, tails up, like beasts attacked by a plague of flies. + +A belated potter, coming up from Ujvaros with a crockery-laden cart, +related how somewhere on the puszta he had met with a herd of cattle, +which with a horseman and dog at their heels, had dashed roaring along, +towards the Zam hills. Coming to the Hortobagy river, they had all +jumped in, and he had lost sight of both rider and cows among the thick +reeds. + +The ferry-man turned to the gaping drovers, + +"Now you _may_ howl, countrymen!" he said. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +The Ohat puszta is the pasture ground of the "mixed" stud. From the +corral in the centre, all round to the wide circle of horizon, nothing +can be seen but horses grazing. Horses of all colours, which only the +richness of the Hungarian language can find names for: bay, grey, black, +white-faced, piebald, dappled, chestnut, flea-bitten, strawberry, +skewbald, roan, cream-coloured, and, what is rarest among foals, +milk-white. Well does this variety of shade and colour deserve to be +called the "mixed" herd. A gentleman's stud is something very different, +there only horses of one breed and colouring are to be found. + +All the horse owners in Debreczin turn out their mares here, where, +summer or winter, they never see a stable, and only the head csikos +keeps account of their yearly increase. Here, too, the famous pacers +are raised, which are sought for from afar; for not every horse can +stand a sandy country, a mountain-bred one, for example, collapses if it +once treads an Alfold road. + +Scattered groups are to be seen grazing industriously round the +stallions. For the horse is always feeding. Learned men say that when +Jupiter created Minerva, he cast this curse on the horse, that it might +always eat, yet never be filled. + +Four or five mounted csikos watch over the herd, with its thousand or so +unruly colts, and use their thick stock-whips to drive back the more +adventurous. + +The arrangement here is the same as with the cattle herd, the "karam" or +shanty, kitchen, wind shelter and well. Only, there is neither +barrow-boy, nor "poor man's peat," nor protecting watch-dog, for the +horse cannot endure any of the canine tribe, and whether it be dog or +wolf, both get kicked. + +Noon was approaching, and the widely scattered troops of horses began to +draw towards the great well. Two carriages were also nearing from the +direction of the Hortobagy bridge. The head csikos, a thick-set, bony +old man, shading his eyes with his hand, recognised the new-comers from +afar--by their horses. + +"One is Mr. Mihaly Kadar, the other, Pelikan, the horse-dealer. I knew, +when I looked in my calendar, that they would honour me to day." + +"Then, is that written in the calendar?" asked Sandor, the herdsman, +surprised. + +"Yes, my boy! Everything is in 'Csathy's Almanack.' The Onod cattle +market is on Sunday, and Pelikan must take horses there." + +His prognostications were correct. The visitors had come about horses, +Mr. Mihaly Kadar, being the seller, and Mr. Samuel Pelikan, the buyer. + +Surely everyone can recognise Mr. Mihaly Kadar--a handsome, round-faced +man, with his smiling countenance and waxed moustache, and figure +curving outwards at the waist. He wore a braided mantle, a round hat, +and held a long, thin walking-stick, the top carved to represent a +bird's head. His was the group of horses standing beside the pool, with +the roan stallion leading them. + +Samuel Pelikan was a bony individual, with a large, crooked nose, long +beard and moustache, his back and legs somewhat bent from continually +trying of horses. There was a crane's feather in his high, wide-brimmed +hat, his waistcoat was checked, his jacket short, and his baggy, nankeen +trousers tucked into his top-boots. A cigar case was pushed into his +side pocket, and he carried a long riding-whip. + +These gentlemen, leaving their carriages, walked to the "karam" and +shook hands with the overseer, who awaited them there. Then an order was +given to the herdsmen, and they all went out to the herd. + +Two mounted csikos, with tremendous cracking of whips, rounded up the +lot of horses, among which were Mr. Kadar's. There were about two +hundred colts in all, some of which had never felt the hand of man. As +they drove them in a long curved line before the experts, the +horse-dealer pointed out a galloping roan mare to the herdsman on the +grass at his side. + +"I would like that one!" + +Thereupon, Sandor Decsi, casting aside jacket and cloak, seized the +coiled-up lasso in his right hand, wound the other end round his left, +and stepped towards the advancing herd. Swift as lightning, he flung out +the long line at the chosen mare, and with mathematical precision the +noose caught its neck instantly, half throttling it. The other colts +rushed on neighing; the prisoner remained, tossed its head, kicked, +reared, all in vain. There stood the man, holding on to the lasso, +as if made of cast-iron, and with his loose sleeves slipping back, +he resembled one of those ancient Greek or Roman statues--"the +Horse-Tamers." Gradually, in spite of all resistance, and pulling hand +over hand, he hauled in the horse. Its eyes protruded, the nostrils were +dilated, its breathing came in gasps. Then flinging his arms round its +neck, the csikos whispered something in its ear, loosened the noose from +its neck, and the wild, frightened animal became straightway as gentle +as a lamb, readily resigning its head to the halter. They fastened it +directly to the horse-cooper's trap, who hastened to reconcile his +victim with a piece of bread and salt. + +This athletic display was three times repeated; nor did Sandor Decsi +once bungle his work. But it happened the fourth time, that the noose +was widely distended, and slipped down to the horse's chest. Not being +choked, it did not yield so easily; but commenced kicking and capering, +and dragged the csikos, at the other end of the line, quite a +considerable distance. But he put forth his strength at last, and led +the captive before his owners. + +"Truly that is a finer amusement than playing billiards in the 'Bull,'" +said Pelikan, turning to Mr. Kadar. + +"Well, it's his only work!" returned the worthy civilian. + +The horse-dealer, opening his cigar case, offered one to the herdsman. +Sandor Decsi took it, struck a match, lit up, and puffed away. + +The four raw colts were distributed round the purchaser's carriage; two +behind, one beside the near, and the fourth beside the off horse. + +"Well, my friend, you're a great, strong fellow!" observed Mr. Pelikan, +lighting himself a cigar from Sandor's. + +"Yes! If he had not been ill!" grumbled the overseer. + +"I wasn't ill!" bragged the herdsman, and tossed back his head +contemptuously. + +"What on earth, were you then? When a man lies three days in the Mata +Hospital----" + +"How can a man lie in the Mata Hospital? It is only for horses!" + +"What were you doing then?" + +"_Drunk!_" said Sandor Decsi. "As a man has a right to be!" + +The old man twisted his moustache, and muttered, half-pleased, +half-vexed, "There, you see these 'betyars'! Not for all the world would +they confess anything had ailed them." + +Then the time for payment came round. + +They settled the price of the four young horses at eight hundred +florins. + +Mr. Pelikan took from his inner pocket a square folded piece of +crocodile leather, this was his purse, and selected a paper from the +pile it contained. There was not a single bank-note, only bills, filled +in and blank. + +"I never carry money about me," said the horse-dealer, "only these. They +can steal these if they like, the thieves would only lose by it." + +"Which I will accept," said Mr. Kadar in his turn. "Mr. Pelikan's +signature is as good as ready-money." + +Pelikan had brought writing materials, a portable inkstand in his +trouser pocket, and a quill pen in his top-boot. + +"We'll soon have a writing-table, too," he remarked, "if you will kindly +bring us your horse here, herdsman." + +The saddle of Decsi's horse came in very handy as a table on which to +fill in the bill. The herdsman watched with the greatest interest. + +And not alone the herdsman, but the horses also. Those same wild colts +which had been scared four times and from whose midst four of their +comrades had just been lassoed, crowded round like inquisitive children, +and without the slightest fear. (It is true Mr. Mihaly Kadar was bribing +them with Debreczin rolls.) One dapple bay actually laid its head on +the dealer's shoulder and looked on in wonder. None of them had ever +seen a bill filled in before. + +It is probable that Sandor Decsi expressed the silent thought of each, +when he inquired, "Why do you write 812 florins 18 kreuzers, sir, when +the price was settled at eight hundred florins?" + +"Well, herdsman, the reason is that I must pay the sum in ready-money. +Worthy Mr. Kadar here will write his name on the back, and then the bill +will be 'endorsed.' To-morrow morning he will take it to the Savings +Bank, where they will pay out eight hundred florins, but deduct twelve +florins--eighteen kreuzers--as discount, and, therefore, I don't require +to pay the money for three months." + +"And if you do not repay it, sir?" + +"Why, then, they will take it out of Mr. Kadar. That is why they give me +credit." + +"I see. So that is the good of a bill of exchange?" + +"Did you never see a bill before?" asked Mr. Pelikan. + +Sandor Decsi laughed loud, till his row of fine white teeth flashed. + +"A csikos, and a bill!" + +"Well, your worthy friend, Mr. Ferko Lacza is quite another gentleman, +and he is only a cowherd. He knows what a bill means. I have just such a +long paper of his, if you would like to see it." + +He searched among his documents, and holding one before the csikos, +finally handed him the paper. The bill amounted to ten florins. + +"Does Mr. Pelikan know the cowboy?" asked the astonished csikos. + +"As far as I know, you do not deal with cattle, sir." + +"It is not I, but my wife who has that honour. You see she carries on a +little goldsmith business on her own account. I don't meddle in it at +all. About two months ago, in comes Mr. Ferko Lacza with a pair of +ear-rings, which he wants gilded, very heavily gilded too!" + +Sandor started at that, as if a wasp had stung him. + +"Silver ear-rings?" + +"Yes, very pretty silver, filagree ear-rings, and the gilding came to +ten florins. When done, off he went with them--they were certainly not +for his own use--and as he had no money he left this bill behind him. On +Demeter day he is to meet it." + +"This bill?" + +Sandor Decsi stared blankly at the paper, and his nostrils quivered. He +might have been laughing from the grin on his face, only the writing +shook in his two hands. He did not let go of it, but grasped it tightly. + +"As the bill appears to please you so well, I will give it you as a +tip," said Mr. Pelikan, in a sudden fit of generosity. + +"But ten florins, sir, that is a great deal!" + +"Of course, it is a great deal for you, and I am no such duffer as to +chuck away ten florins every time I buy a horse. But to tell the truth, +I should be glad to get rid of the bill under such good auspices, like +the shoemaker and his vineyard in the story----" + +"Is there something false in it, then?" + +"No, nothing false, only too much truth in fact. See, I will explain it +to you, please look here. On this line stands 'Mr. Ferencz Lacza,' then +comes 'residence,' and after that 'payable in.' Now, in both places +'Debreczin' should be written, but that idiotic wife of mine put +'Hortobagy' instead--which is true enough--for Mr. Ferko Lacza does live +on the Hortobagy. Had she written, 'Hortobagy inn' even, I should have +known where to find him, but how can I go roaming about the Hortobagy, +and the Zam puszta, searching the 'karams' of goodness knows how many +herds, and risking my calves among the watch-dogs? I have fought with +the woman quite enough about it. Now, at least, I can say I have handed +it over at cent. per cent. interest, and we will have no more rows. So +accept it, herdsman. You will know how to get the ten florins out of the +cowboy, for you fear neither himself nor his dog." + +"Thank you, sir, thank you very, very much." + +The csikos folded up the paper and stowed it away in his jacket pocket. + +"The young man seems deeply grateful for the ten florin tip," whispered +Mr. Kadar to the overseer. "Generosity brings its own reward." + +Mr. Mihaly Kadar was a great newspaper reader, and took the _Sunday +News_ and the _Political Messenger_; hence his lofty style of speech. + +"That hasn't much to do with his gladness," growled the overseer. "He +knows well enough that Ferko Lacza went off to Moravia last Friday; +small chance of seeing him or his blessed ten florins again! But he is +glad to be clear about the ear-rings, for there is a girl in that +business." + +Mr. Kadar raised the bird's-head top of his cane to his lips +significantly. + +"Aha!" he murmured, "that entirely alters the case!" + +"You see the boy's my godson, and I'm fond enough of the cub. No one can +manage the herd as he does, and I did my best to free him from +soldiering. Ferko is the godchild of my old friend, the cattle overseer, +and a good lad also. Both would be the best friends in the world, if +the devil, or goodness knows what evil fate, hadn't thrown that +pale-faced girl in between them. Now they are ready to eat each other. +Luckily my old friend had a capital idea, and has sent Ferko to be head +herdsman to a Moravian Duke. So peace will once more reign on the +Hortobagy." + +Sandor guessed from the whispering that it was of him they were talking, +and turned away. Eavesdropping is not congenial to the Hungarian nature. +So he drove the herd to the watering-place, where the other horses were +already assembled. Five herdsmen there were, three well-poles, one +thousand and fifty horses. Each csikos had to lower the pole, fill the +bucket, raise the bucket and empty it into the trough, exactly two +hundred and ten times. This is their daily amusement, three times +repeated, and they certainly cannot complain of lack of exercise! + +Sandor Decsi, let no one notice that anything had gone amiss with him. +He was merry as a lark, and sang and whistled all day long, till the +wide plain resounded with his favourite song: + + "Poor and nameless though I be, + My six black horses I'll drive along. + My six black horses are good to see, + And the puszta lad is ruddy and strong." + +First one, then another csikos caught up the air, filling the whole +puszta with their singing. The next day he seemed just as gay, from dawn +till dark, as good-humoured in fact, "as one who feels himself fey." + +After sundown the herds were driven to their night quarters near the +"karam," where they would keep together till morning. + +Meanwhile the boy brought the bundles of "cserekely," that is, +down-trodden reeds, which serve to light the herdsman's fire and to warm +up his supper in the kitchen. Very different is the cowherd's meal to +that of the csikos. Here is no stolen mutton or pork, such as the csikos +of the stage love to talk about. All the swine and flocks pasture on the +far side of the Hortobagy river, and it would be a day's journey for the +aspiring csikos desirous of bagging a little pig or yearling lamb. +Neither is there any of the carrion stew known to and spoken of by the +cowboy. The overseer's wife in the town cooks provisions for the +herdsmen enough to last a week. As to the fare, any gentleman could sit +down to it--sour rye soup, pork stew, "Calvanistic Heaven," or stuffed +cabbage, larded meat. All five csikos sup together with the old +herdsman, nor is the serving lad forgotten. + +A herd of horses differs from a herd of cows after nightfall. Once the +cows have been watered, they all settle down in a mass to chew their +cud, but the horse is no such philosopher. He feeds on into the night, +and as long as there is moon, keeps munching grass incessantly. + +Sandor Decsi was in a gay mood that evening, and as they sat round the +glowing fire, he asked the overseer, "Dear godfather, how comes it that +a horse can eat all day long? If the meadows were covered with cakes, I +could never go on stuffing the whole day!" + +"Well, godson, I can tell you, only you must not laugh. It is an old +tale and belongs to the days when students wore three-cornered hats. I +had it from such an inkslinger myself, and may his soul suffer, if +every word of it be not true! Once upon a time there was a very famous +saint called Martin--he is still about, only nowadays he never comes to +the Hortobagy. We know he was a Hungarian saint too, because he always +went on horseback. Then there was a King here, and his name was Horse +Marot. They called him that because he once managed to cheat Saint +Martin of the steed which used to carry him about the world. Saint +Martin was his guest, and he tied up his steed in the stable yard. Then +one morning early, when Saint Martin wanted to set off on his travels, +he said to the King: 'Now give me my horse, and let me start!' +'Impossible,' said the King, 'the horse is just eating.' Saint Martin +waited till noon, then he asked for it again. 'You can't go now,' said +the King, 'the horse is eating.' Saint Martin waited till sunset, then +urged the King once more for his horse. 'I tell you, you can't have your +horse, because it's _still eating_!' Then Saint Martin grew angry, cast +his little book on the ground, and cursed the King and the horse. 'May +the name of 'Horse' stick to you for ever! May you never be free of it, +but may the two names be said in one breath! As for the horse, may it +graze the livelong day yet never be filled!' Since then the horse is +always eating, yet never has enough. And you, if you don't believe this +story, go to the land of Make-believe, and there on a peak you will find +a blind horse. Ask him. He can tell you better maybe, seeing he was +there himself." + +All the csikos thanked the old man for the pleasant tale. Then each +hastened to find his horse, and to trot away through the silent night to +his own herd. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +It was a lovely spring evening. The sunset glow lingered long in the +sky, till night drew on her garment of soft fleecy mists lying all round +the horizon. + +The sickle of the new moon grazed the Zam Hill, with the lovers' star +shining radiant just above--that star which rises so early and sets so +soon! + +Some distance from the herd, the csikos sought out a resting-place for +the night, and there carefully unsaddled his horse and removed the +bridle from its head, hanging it on his stick, rammed into the ground. +Then he spread the saddle-cloth over the saddle; this was his pillow; +his covering the embroidered "szur." But first he broke up some bread, +left from his supper, and gave it, in his hand, to the horse. + +"Now you may go and graze also, little Vidam (Vidam means gay and +lively). You do not feed all day long like the others! You are always +saddled, and yet, after you have been ridden the whole day, they want to +put you to the machine, and make you draw water. Well, they can want! Do +they fancy that 'a horse is as much a dog as a man'?" + +Then he gently wiped the horse's eyes with his loose sleeve. + +"Now, go and search out good grass for yourself; but don't go far! When +the moon has sunk, and with her that shining star, then come back here. +See, I don't tether you like a cowherd does, nor shackle your feet as +peasants do. 'Tis enough for me to call, 'Here, Vidam!' and you are here +directly." + +Vidam understood. Why not? Freed from saddle and bridle, he gave a jump, +kicked up his hind legs, threw himself on the ground, and rolled over +and over several times with his heels to the sky. Then regaining his +feet, he shook his mane, neighed once, and started off for the flowery +pastures, snorting and flicking his long tail to keep off the humming +night insects. The csikos meanwhile lay down on his grassy bed. What a +splendid couch! For pillow the wide circle of plain, and for curtains +the star-strewn sky! + +It was late already. Nevertheless, the earth, like a restless, naughty +child, refused to slumber yet. Could not sleep in fact. Everywhere there +was sound, soft, indistinct, and full of mystery. The pealing of bells +from the town, or the barking of dogs with the cattle were too far away +to be heard here. But the bittern boomed among the reeds hard by, like a +lost soul, the reed-warbler, the nightingale of the marsh, gurgled and +twittered with thousands of frogs to swell the chorus; and through it +all came the monotonous clack of the Hortobagy mill. High overhead +sounded the mournful wail of flights of wild geese and cranes, flying in +long lines, scarcely to be distinguished against the sky. Here and there +a dense cloud of gnats whirled into the air, making a ghostly whirring +music. Now and then a horse neighed. + +Poor lad! formerly your head would hardly touch the saddle before you +were fast asleep, now you can only gaze and gaze at the dark blue sky +overhead, and the stars, whose names your old godfather taught you. +There in the midst is the Pole Star, which never moves from its place; +those two are the "Herdsman's Team," while that with the changing colour +is the "Eye of an Orphan Maid." The brilliant one, just over the +horizon, is the "Reaper's Star;" still the "Wanderer's Lamp" is +brighter. Those three are the "Three Kings," that cluster the "Seven +Sisters," and the star which is sinking into the mist is called the +"Window of Heaven." + +But why look at the stars when one cannot speak to them? A heavy load +weighs down the heart, a cruel wound makes the soul bleed. If one could +pour out the bitterness, if one could complain, perhaps it might be +easier. But how vast is the puszta and how void! + +The shining star set, also the moon. The horse left the pasture and +returned to its master. Very gently he stepped along, as if fearing to +wake him, and stretching out his long neck, bent his head over him to +see if he slept. + +"No, I'm not asleep. Come here, old fellow," said the csikos. + +At that the horse began to whinny joyously, and lay down near his +master. + +The herdsman raised himself on his elbows, and rested his head on his +hand. Here was someone to speak with--an intelligent beast. + +"You see!" he said. "You see, my Vidam? That is the way with a girl! +Outside gold, inside silver. When she speaks the truth it is half false; +when she lies it is half true! No one will ever learn to understand +her. . . . You know how much I loved her! . . . How often I made your +sides bleed as I spurred you on to carry me the quicker to her! . . . +How often I tied you up at the door in snow and mud, in freezing cold +and burning sunshine! I never thought of you, my dear old horse, only of +how I loved her!" + +The horse seemed to laugh at the notion of not remembering. Of course +his master had done so. + +"And you know how much she loved me! . . . How she stuck roses behind +your ears, plaited your mane with ribbons, and fed you with sweet cakes +from her own hand! . . . How often she drew me back with her kisses, +even from the saddle, and hugged your neck that I might remain the +longer!" + +Vidam answered him with a low whinny. Certainly the girl had done all +that. + +"Till that confounded beggar slunk in and stole half her heart. If he +had but stolen the whole of it! Taken her to himself and gone off with +her! But to leave her here; half a heavenly blessing and half a deadly +curse----" + +The horse evidently wanted to comfort him, and laid his head on his +master's knee. + +"Strike him, God!" muttered the csikos in an agony of grief. "Do not +leave the man unpunished who has plucked another's rose for himself. Did +I kill him, I know his mother would weep!" + +The horse lashed the ground with his tail, as had his master's rage been +transmitted to him. + +"But how can I kill him? He is over the hills and far away by now! And +you are not able, my poor Vidam, to fly all over the kingdom with me. +No, you must stay here with me in my trouble." + +Nothing Vidam could do indeed could alter the situation. So he signified +his acquiescence in the harsh decree of fate by lying down and +stretching out his great head and neck. + +But the csikos would not let him turn his thoughts to slumber, he had +yet something to tell him. A smacking of the lips, very like a kiss, +aroused the horse. + +"Don't sleep yet. . . . . I'm not sleeping. We'll have time enough some +day when we take our long rest! . . . . Till then we'll keep together we +two. . . . . Never shall you leave your master. . . . . Never will he +part with you, not though they offer him your weight in gold . . . . my +one faithful friend! Do you know how you caught hold of my waistcoat and +helped the doctor to lift me up from the ground when I lay on the puszta +as good as dead, with the eagles shrieking over me? You seized my +clothes with your teeth, and raised me, you did! . . . . Yes? . . . . +You know all about it? . . . . my darling! Do not fear, we will never +cross the Hortobagy bridge again, never turn in at the Hortobagy inn. +. . . . I swear it, here, by the starry sky, that never, never, _never_ +will I step over the threshold where that false girl dwells. . . . . May +the stars cease to shine on me, if I break my word----" + +At this great oath the horse stood up on his fore-feet, and sat like a +dog on his hindquarters. + +"But don't think we will grow old here," went on the csikos, "we are not +going to stick for ever on this meadow-land. When I was a little child I +saw beautiful tri-colour banners waving, and splendid Hussars dashing +after them. . . . . How I envied them! . . . . Then later, I saw those +same Hussars dying and wounded, and the beautiful tri-colour flag +dragged through the mire, . . . . but that will not always last. There +will come a day when we will bring out the old flag from under the +eaves, and ride after it, brave young lads, to crack the bones of those +wicked Cossacks! And you will come with me, my good old horse, at the +trumpet's call." + +As if he heard the trumpet sounding, Vidam sprang up, pawed the turf +with his forefeet, and, with mane bristling and head erect, neighed into +the night. Like the outposts of the camp, all the stallions on the +puszta neighed back an answer. + +"There we'll put an end to this business! . . . . There we'll heal the +sorrow and the bitterness, though not by shedding tears! Not the +poisoned glass of a faithless maid, nor her more poisonous kisses will +destroy this body of mine, but the swordthrust of a worthy foe. Then as +I lie on the bloody battle-field, you will be there, standing beside me, +and watching over me, till they come to bury me." + +And as though to test the fidelity of his horse, the lad pretended to be +dead, threw himself limply on the grass, and stretched his arms stark +and stiff at his sides. + +The horse looked at him for a second, and seeing his master motionless, +stepped up with his ears flattened back, and began rubbing his nose +against his master's shoulder, then as he did not move, trotted noisily +round him. When the clatter of hoofs still failed to waken his master, +the horse stood over him, fastened his teeth in the cloak buckled over +his shoulders, and began to lift him, till at last the csikos ended the +joke by opening his eyes and hugging Vidam with both arms round his +neck. + +"You are my only true comrade!" + +And the horse really laughed! Bared his gums to express his joy, and +pranced and capered like any foolish little foal, in his high joy at +finding that this dying was only mere fun and pretence. Finally he lay +down and stretched himself on the grass. Now _he_ was cheating his +master and pretending to be dead. Now the herdsman might talk to him and +smack his lips all in vain. Vidam would not budge. + +So when the csikos laid down his head on the horse's neck, it did very +well as a pillow. Vidam raised his head, saw that his master was +asleep, and did not make a move till break of dawn. + +Even then he would not have stirred, had not his ear been caught by a +sudden sound. + +Giving a loud snort he woke his master. The csikos jumped from his couch +and the horse stood up. + +Day was dawning already, and in the east the sky was golden. In the +distance the dark form of an approaching horse was visible through the +shadowy mist. It was riderless. This is what Vidam had scented. + +It was probably a strayed animal, escaped from some herd. For in +spring-time, when the fit seizes them, the cowboys' horses, weary of +their lonely life among the cattle, and if only they can succeed in +breaking their tether, will run, following the scent, to the nearest +stud. There a fight takes place, that usually ends badly for the +intruders, who are not even shod as are the other horses. + +So the runaway would have to be caught. + +Hastily bridling his horse, and throwing the saddle on his back, the +csikos held the lasso in readiness, and galloped towards the ownerless +steed. + +But no lasso was needed for its capture! As it neared, it headed of its +own accord straight to the csikos, and gave a joyful neigh, to which +Vidam responded--these were old acquaintances! + +"Now what can this mean?" exclaimed the herdsman, "surely this is very +like Ferko's white-faced bay! Yet that must be in Moravia!" + +His wonder increased when the two horses meeting, exchanged friendly +grunts and began lovingly snuffing each other's chests. + +"It is Ferko's horse! There are his initials, 'F.L.,' and for stronger +proof, here is actually the scar of the kick it got as a colt!" + +The bay had brought the rope along with it, also the peg which it had +torn from the ground. + +"How come you on the Hortobagy, eh! whiteface?" asked Sandor, while the +runaway let him catch it easily enough by the halter still knotted to +its head. + +"Whence come you? Where is your master?" + +But this horse was not in sympathy with him, and did not understand his +questions. What can one expect of a horse that spends its life in the +company of cattle? + +The csikos led his captive to the corral, and there shut it in. + +Then he recounted the affair to the overseer. + +But as the day advanced, so too did light break on the mystery. From the +Zam puszta came the barrow-boy, tearing along in such a hurry that he +had even forgotten his cap. + +He recognised Sandor Decsi from afar, and made straight for him. + +"Morning, Sandor bacsi ('bacsi,' uncle, is a title of respect applied to +one's elders. Trans.) Did the bay come here?" + +"Yes, indeed. How did it get loose?" + +"Had a mad fit. Neighed the whole day. When I tried to groom it, nearly +knocked out my eyes with its tail. Then broke loose in the night, and +went off with the halter. I've been looking for it ever since." + +"And where is its master, then?" + +"He's still sleeping--the exertion has quite knocked him up!" + +"What exertion?" + +"Why, what happened three days back. What, you've not heard of it, +Sandor bacsi? How the cows, that the Moravian gentry bought, lost their +heads at the Polgar ferry, and slap-bang, bull and all, jumped over the +side of the ferry-boat, and tore straight home to the Zam herd. The +cowboy could not turn them. He was obliged to come back with them +himself." + +"So Ferko Lacza is at home again?" + +"Yes, but a little more and the overseer would have killed him outright! +No, I _never_ heard the overseer curse and swear as he did that evening +when the herd came rushing over the puszta, Ferko bacsi at their heels. +The foam dripped off the horse, and the bull's nose was bleeding. The +air was just thick with 'devils,' and 'damns,' and 'gallows-trees!' He +raised his stick twice to strike the cowboy too, and it swished through +the air. 'Tis a marvel he did not beat him." + +"And what did Ferko say?" + +"Nothing much, only that he couldn't help it, if the beasts chose to go +mad. + +"'You have bewitched them, you devil!' said the overseer. + +"'Why should I do that?' says Ferko bacsi. + +"'Why? Because you've been bewitched yourself first. That "Yellow Rose" +has given you a charm as she did to Sandor Decsi.' + +"Then they began talking about you, Sandor bacsi, but what I could not +hear, because they sent me off with a box on the ears, and 'pray what +was I listening for? It was none of my business.'" + +"So they spoke about me, did they? And about the 'Yellow Rose'?" + +"As if I knew or cared about their 'Yellow Rose'! But this I do know, +that last Friday when they drove off the cows, Ferko bacsi went into the +shanty to fetch his knapsack, and there he pulled out a coloured +kerchief from his sleeve, and in it a yellow rose was wrapped up. He +snuffed at it, and pressed it to his lips till I thought he was going +to eat it! Then he unpicked the lining of his cap, pushed in the rose +and put it on his head again. Perhaps that was the charm?" + +The csikos swinging the loaded end of his cudgel, struck a yellow +mullein standing in his path, scattering the blossoms far and wide. + +"What harm has the poor 'King's candle' done you?" asked the boy. + +But the intent of the blow had been in another direction. + +"And now what will happen?" questioned the csikos. + +"Well, yesterday, the Moravian drovers turned up on foot, and they +discussed the matter with the overseer. So now the cows are to be driven +towards Tisza-Fured, and all their calves with them, for over the bridge +they surely can't jump! They say the cows ran back to their calves. But +Ferko Lacza only laughs to himself." + +"And will Ferko Lacza go with them this time?" + +"Apparently, since the master never gives him a moment's peace. But the +cowboy doesn't want to clear out just yet. He says the cattle must have +a day or two breathing time after their race, and he himself sleeps the +whole day like a log. Well, 'tis no joke to gallop from Polgar to Zam +puszta at one stretch! So the overseer has granted him two days' rest." + +"Two days? Two? Surely that is over much." + +"I don't know." + +"But I do--or else the two days will lengthen into a rest much longer!" + +"Well, I must hurry and get the bay home before they are up. Because +when the overseer swears at the herdsman, then the cowboy vents all his +rage on me. Just wait till I'm herdsman, and then I'll have a barrow-boy +of my own to knock about! God bless you, Sandor bacsi." + +"He has done that already." + +The little lad jumped on the bay, bareback as it was, and stuck his +naked feet into its sides. But the bay absolutely refused to stir, +turned suddenly right round, and tried to return to the stud. Finally +the csikos, taking pity on the boy, brought out his stock-whip, caught +it a good thwack in the hind-legs and cracked it two or three times, +whereupon the horse, lowering its head, set out full tilt over the +puszta, as straight as it could go. The boy had hard enough work to keep +his seat, clutching the mane with both hands. The csikos, meanwhile, was +quite clear as to his own course. + +"Tell Ferko Lacza that Sandor Decsi sends him his respects!" he shouted +out after the vanishing "taligas." But whether the boy heard this +message is doubtful. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Next day the csikos went into the "karam," and said to the head +herdsman, + +"I have some business on hand, godfather, may I take a half-holiday this +afternoon? By evening I will be back." + +"Certainly you can have leave, my son," replied the old man, "but on one +condition. Your are not to enter the Hortobagy inn. Do you understand +me?" + +"I give you my word of honour not to put a foot inside the Hortobagy +inn." + +"Very well, I know you will keep your word." + +But this, the csikos had omitted to add, "unless I am carried in on a +sheet." + +It was a hot sultry afternoon when he started, the sky was the colour of +buttermilk, and the air charged with moisture. The play of the mirage +seemed specially fantastic. Not a bird sang overhead, but all sank +nestling in the grass. On the other hand the swarms of horse-flies, +gad-flies, and midges appeared more wickedly inclined than ever, and the +horse could only get along slowly, having to drive off the blood-thirsty +torments, now with its hind-foot, now with its head. Still it never +missed the path though the bridle lay slack between the csikos' fingers. +Man too feels the approach of a storm. + +Suddenly, as they reached that substantial triumph of Scythian +architecture--the Hortobagy bridge--the csikos started. + +"No, no!" he cried. "Here we can't go, old fellow. You know how I swore +by the starry heavens never to cross that bridge again." + +But never to _ford_ the Hortobagy river was not included in his oath. + +So he turned down below the mill, and where the water widens into the +shallows, waded easily across. The horse had to swim a little, but the +herdsman took no heed of that; his fringed linen trousers would soon dry +in the hot sunshine. + +Then he trotted on to the Hortobagy inn. Here the horse tried to go at a +brisker pace, whinnying joyously the while. A glad neigh answered it, +for there, tied up to an acacia, stood its comrade--the white-faced bay. + +Properly speaking, the Hortobagy inn has no courtyard, for the wide +grassy expanse fronting house, stable, and sheds is without fence of any +sort. Still it serves as such. A table is put there, and two long +benches where the customers sit tippling under the trees. + +The csikos sprang from his horse, and tied it up to the other acacia, +not that same tree to which the white-faced bay was tethered. + +A couple of long-eared steeds were also meditating in the shade of the +garden paling, stretching out their necks for the overhanging sprays of +barberry, just out of their reach. Their riders were seated at the +table, under the acacia, with their fur-lined "bundas" slung over their +shoulders, inside out, despite the sweltering weather. In fact, they +wore them for shade. As they tippled away, drinking cheap acid stuff out +of green glasses, they hummed an endless shepherd's song, monotonous +and wearisome. Both were shepherds, whose steed is the donkey. + +Sandor Decsi sat down at the further end of the bench, placed his cudgel +on the table, and studied the glittering clouds looming heavy on the +horizon, and the dark rim of earth beneath. A great yellow pillar rose +swirling in one quarter--the whirlwind. Meanwhile the shepherds sang: + + "When the shepherd takes his glass, + Sad and mournful grows his ass. + Cheer up, little donkey, grey! + Behind the flock we'll ride away." + +This was too much for the csikos to stand. + +"See, that's enough, Pista!" he snapped. "For goodness' sake stop that +doleful ditty, and get on your grey donkey and trundle after your flock +before you're too tipsy to move." + +"Dear, dear! Sandor Decsi does seem upset to-day!" + +"I'll upset you worse if you try aggravating me!" said the csikos, and +rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows. Now he was "ready" for +anyone who crossed his path. + +The shepherds whispered. Well they knew the puszta rule that when a +csikos sits at a table a shepherd may only squat down there with his +express permission. If he says, "Get out!" why then the shepherd has to +go. + +One of them rapped on the table with the bottom of his glass. + +"We had better pay, the storm is coming." + +The innkeeper's daughter came out at the sound. She made as if she did +not see the csikos at all, but attended to the two shepherds, counted up +the wine, gave them back the change out of their "dog-tongues," and +wiped the table where wine had been spilled. They mounted their donkeys, +and being once more in full security, rattled on with their song +defiantly: + + "Wolves all fear my dogs so strong. + Two lads lead the flock along. + I? Why I ride all the day + On my little donkey grey." + +Only when they had quite taken themselves off did the girl address the +csikos. + +"Well, haven't you even 'good-day' for me, my dearest treasure?" + +"Sandor Decsi is my name," growled the herdsman savagely. + +"I beg your honour's pardon! Won't you please step into the tap-room, +sir?" + +"Thanks! I'm well enough out here." + +"There you would find fitting society." + +"So I see by the horse. He'll come out to me soon enough." + +"Well, what can I bring you? Red wine? White wine?" + +"No, I won't drink wine," said the csikos. "Bring me bottled beer." + +Bottled beer cannot be poisoned. Once the cork is drawn it all froths +out. + +The girl understood the insinuation. Crushing down the bitterness in her +heart she soon returned with a bottle, which she placed before the lad. + +"What is this?" he cried. "Am I a cobbler's apprentice, to have _one_ +bottle brought me?" + +"Very well, sir. Please don't be angry. I'll bring more directly." + +This time she came back with a whole bundle, and set all six in a row +before him. + +"That is better," said he. + +"Shall I draw the cork?" + +"Thanks! I can do it myself." + +He took the first bottle, broke off the neck against the edge of the +table, and poured the foaming beer into the tall glass beside him. It +costs more like this, because the broken bottle has to be paid for; but +then, "a gentleman is always the gentleman." + +The girl moved off airily, shaking her sides flippantly as she went. Her +golden ear-rings tinkled. Her hair was down again, no longer twisted +round the comb, and the ribbon ends fluttered coquettishly behind her. +"As thou to me. So I to thee." + +The csikos sat quietly drinking his beer, and the girl sang on the +verandah: + + "Hadst thou known what I know, + Or whose sweetheart am I! + Not alone would I weep, + Thou wouldst cry." + +At the fourth line the door was shut with a bang. + +By the time she reappeared again, three empty broken-necked bottles +stood on the table. Klari took them, picking up the broken bits of glass +into her apron. + +After the third bottle, the lad's humour had changed, and as the girl +fussed round him, he suddenly slipped his arm round her waist. + +She made no demur on her part. + +"Well, may one call you 'Sandor' again?" she asked. + +"You always could. What did you want to say?" + +"Did you ask anything?" + +"Why are your eyes so red?" + +"Because I am so happy. I have a suitor." + +"Who?" + +"The old innkeeper at Vervolgy. He is a widower with lots of money." + +"Shall you accept him?" + +"Why not, if they take me to him? Let me go!" + +"_You lie, lie!_ You cover up your lying, and so lie worse than ever!" +cried the lad. + +He removed his hand from the girl's waist. + +"Will you drink more?" she asked. + +"Why not?" + +"But you'll get fuddled from so much beer." + +"Much need of it too to quench the fire burning in me. See you give the +one in there plenty of strong wine. Heat him up with it, so that we may +match each other." + +But she took good care not to tell "the one inside" "about the other" +out here. + +The csikos took the matter into his own hands. He began to sing, +selecting the mocking air with which they are wont to tease the +cowherds: + + "Oh I am the Petri cowboy bold, + I guard the herd on the Petri wold. + My comrades can go + Through the mire and snow; + I lie on my feather-bed safe from cold." + +Well thought! Hardly was the verse at an end before out came his man. In +one hand he carried his bottle of red wine, with the tumbler turned over +the top, in the other his cudgel. Setting down his wine opposite the +csikos, he next laid his cudgel beside the other one, and then took his +seat at the table exactly facing the other lad. + +They neither shook hands nor spoke a word of greeting. Each gave a +silent nod, like two between whom speech is unnecessary. + +"So you are back from your journey, comrade?" asked the csikos. + +"I'll be off again directly if I have the mind." + +"To Moravia?" + +"Yes, if I don't change my plans." + +They both drank. After a pause the csikos began again. + +"Are you taking a wife with you this time?" + +"Where should I get a wife?" + +"I'll tell you. ---- take your own mother!" + +"She wouldn't give up being a Debreczin market-woman for the whole of +Moravia!" + +They both drank again. + +"Well, have you bidden your mother farewell?" asked the csikos. + +"I have bidden her farewell." + +"And squared all your accounts with the overseer?" + +"Certainly." + +"You owe _nobody_ anything?" + +"What extraordinary questions you do ask to be sure!" exclaimed the +cowboy. + +"No, I am not in debt, even to the priest. What does it matter to you?" + +The csikos shook his head, and broke the neck of another bottle. He +wished to fill his friend's glass, but the cowboy placed his hand over +it. + +"You won't drink my beer?" + +"I'm keeping to the rule. Wine on beer--never fear. Beer on wine--no +time." + +The csikos poured himself out the whole bottle, and then began to +moralise (the not unfrequent result of beer-drinking). + +"See, comrade," he said, "there is no uglier sin in the world than +lying. I once lied myself, though not in my own defence, and it has +oppressed my soul ever since. Lying does well enough for shepherds, but +not for lads on horseback. The first shepherd of all was a liar. Jacob, +the patriarch, lied when he deceived his own father, making his hands +rough like Esau's. So little wonder if his followers, who keep flocks, +should live by lies. It may suit a shepherd, but it is not for a +cowboy." + +The cowherd went into roars of laughter. + +"I say, Sandor, what a good parson you would make! You can preach as +well as the Whit-Sunday probationer at Balmaz Ujvaros." + +"Yes? Well, comrade, maybe you would not mind my turning out a good +preacher, but if I turned out a good lawyer, you might care more. So you +say you don't owe a crooked kreuzer to any human being?" + +"Not to any human soul." + +"Without lying?" + +"No need for it." + +"Then what is this? This long paper? Do you recognise it?" + +The csikos pulled out the bill from his pocket, and held it before his +companion's nose. + +The cowboy turned suddenly crimson with anger and shame. + +"How did that come into your hands?" he demanded angrily, and springing +from his seat. + +"Honestly enough. Sit down, comrade," said the csikos. "I am not asking +any questions, only preaching. The good man who got this bill instead of +money came to our place not long ago to buy horses. He paid with a bill +of exchange, and when I asked what it meant, explained, mentioned that +you knew the use of a bill, and then showed me your writing, complaining +bitterly that there was some omission, that it was only made payable on +the Hortobagy, and that the Hortobagy is a wide word. So now I have +brought you the bill for you to correct the mistake. Don't let a +horse-cooper say that a Hortobagy cowboy cheated him! Fill in the line, +'Payable on the Hortobagy, in the inn courtyard.'" + +The csikos spoke so mildly that he entirely misled his companion. He +began to think that after all nothing was called into question here but +the honour of csikos and cowboys. + +"All right, I will do as you wish," he said. + +They rapped on the table, and Klarika came out (she had been lurking +near the door). Great was her surprise when, instead of witnessing a +bloody encounter, she beheld the two young men conferring peaceably +together. + +"Fetch us pen and ink, Klari, dear," they said. + +So she brought writing materials from the town commissioner's room. Then +she looked on to see what would be done. + +The csikos showed the paper to the cowherd, pointing with his finger +where, and dictating what to write. + +"'Payable on the Hortobagy,' so much is written already, now add, 'in +the inn courtyard.'" + +"Why in the _courtyard_?" inquired the cowboy. + +"Because--because it can't be otherwise." + +Meanwhile the storm was nearing rapidly. A hot wind preceded the +tempest, covering earth and sky with yellowish clouds of dust. Birds of +prey hovered shrieking over the Hortobagy, while flocks of swallows and +sparrows hurried under the shelter of the eaves. A loud roar swept over +the puszta. + +"Won't you come indoors?" urged the girl. + +"No, no, we can't," answered the csikos, "our work is out here." + +When the cowherd had finished writing, then the csikos took the pen from +his hand, and turning over the bill, inscribed his name on the back, in +big roundhand characters. + +"Now, what is the sense of you writing your name there?" asked the +cowboy, inquisitively. + +"The use is, that when the pay-day comes round, then _I_ and _not you_ +will pay those ten florins." + +"Why should you, instead of me?" + +"Because it is _my debt_!" said the csikos, and clapped his cap to his +head. His eyes flashed. + +The cowboy paled all at once. Now he knew what awaited him. The girl had +learnt nothing from the scribbling nor from the discourse. She shook her +head. "They were very foolish," she thought, and the gilded ear-rings +tinkled in her ears. "'This,' and 'that,' and 'Yellow Rose,' they must +be talking about her!" + +But the csikos carefully folded the paper, and handed it to her. Very +gently he spoke, + +"Dear Klari," he said, "please be so very kind and put this safely away +in your drawer. Then should Mr. Pelikan, the horse-dealer, come in here +to dine on his way back from Onod fair, give it him. Tell him that we +sent it, we two old comrades, Ferko Lacza, and Sanyi Decsi, with our +best respects. One of us will meet it, which, time will show." + +The girl shrugged her shoulders. "Funny people! Not a thought of +quarrelling in their heads! Signing their names to the same paper." + +She collected the writing materials and carried them back to the +commissioner's room, at the end of the long pillared verandah. The two +lads were left alone together. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +The csikos quietly emptied his last bottle of beer. The cowboy poured +out the rest of his red wine into the glass. + +They clinked glasses. + +"Your health!" It was drained at a breath. + +Then the csikos began. Leaning on his elbows he remarked, + +"This is a fine large puszta, this Hortobagy, eh, comrade?" + +"Truly it is!" + +"I hardly think the desert could have been larger where Moses kept the +Jewish people wandering for forty years!" + +"You must know best, you are always poring over the Bible!" + +"Still, though the Hortobagy be so large, there is not room enough on it +for both you and me." + +"I say the same." + +"Then let us rid it of one of us!" + +With that they caught up their cudgels, two oak saplings from the Csat +forest, the club end heavily loaded. + +Each went to his horse. Cowboys do not fight on foot. When the girl +returned from the house, both were in the saddle. + +After that no word was spoken. Silently turning their backs on each +other, one went right, one left, as if flying before the approaching +storm. When there was about two hundred paces between them, they glanced +back simultaneously, and turned their horses. Then swinging their +cudgels, both lads put spurs in their horses, and rushed at each other. + +This is the duel of the puszta. + +It is not as easy as it looks. Fighting with swords on horseback is an +art, but the sword where it strikes inflicts a wound not easily +forgotten. He who wields the cudgel must aim his blow for the one +instant when his galloping steed meets his opponent's. There is no +parrying possible, no thrusting aside of the stroke. Who strikes truest +wins the day. + +The two herdsmen, meeting at the cudgel's length, struck at each other's +head, then dashed past on their horses. + +Sandor Decsi shook in the saddle, his head fell forward from the force +of the blow, but tossing it back directly, he straightened his crumpled +cap. Evidently his crown had only felt the handle of the cudgel. + +His stroke had been better aimed. The loaded end hit his adversary's +skull, who, turning sideways, tumbled out of the saddle, and fell face +downwards on the ground. The victor bringing up his horse, thereupon +promptly cudgelled his fallen foe from the crown of his head to the sole +of his foot, nor spared a square inch of him. For such is the custom. + +If gentlemen of higher rank would only adopt it, God knows how rare +duels would become! + +Having ended this business, the csikos picked up his opponent's cap on +the point of his stick, tore out the lining, and found beneath a +withered yellow rose. He threw it up in the air, giving it a knock which +sent the petals flying in a hundred pieces, and floating like +butterflies down the wind. + +"I told you beforehand, didn't I?" shouted the csikos from on horseback +to the girl, who had watched this decisive combat from the inn door. He +pointed to his mangled opponent. "There! Take him in and nurse him! You +may have him _now_!" A hissing thunderbolt fell before the mill close +by. Here was the storm. All round them the sky crashed and crackled. + +"You see," said the girl, "had he struck you instead, I would have +thrown my own body over you, and protected you from his blows! Then you +would have known how truly I loved you!" + +The csikos put spurs to his horse, and galloped off into the storm. +Sheets of rain and hail fell in torrents, thunder crashed with a +blinding flash. The girl gazed after the horseman till the storm hid him +from view. Once or twice when it lightened his figure shone visible +through the fiery rain, then she lost sight of it, till at last it +vanished utterly. + +Perhaps she never saw him again. + + + + +_Jarrold & Sons, Limited, The Empire Press, Norwich._ + + + + +MAURUS JOKAI'S FAMOUS NOVELS + +_Crown 8vo, Red Cloth, Gilt, 2/6 each, net._ +With Photogravure Portrait of Dr. Jokai. +Uniform with "The Yellow Rose." + + +BLACK DIAMONDS. Ninth Edition. +With a Special Preface by Dr. Jokai. +Translated by Frances A. Gerard. + + +THE GREEN BOOK; or, Freedom +Under the Snow. Eighth Edition. +Translated by Mrs. Waugh. + + +PRETTY MICHAL. Fifth Edition. +Translated from the first Hungarian Edition by +R. Nisbet Bain. + + +THE DAY OF WRATH. Sixth Edition. +Translated from the Hungarian by +R. Nisbet Bain. + + + _London:_ +_Jarrold & Sons, 10 & 11, Warwick Lane, E.C._ + + + + + * * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's note: + +The advertisement for other works by Jokai was moved from the front of +the book to the back. + +The following typographical errors present in the original edition have +been corrected. + +In the advertisement, "nett" was changed to "net". + +In Chapter II, "he never said it was a bethrothal gift" was changed to +"he never said it was a betrothal gift", "Ferka Lacza took to the trick" +was changed to "Ferko Lacza took to the trick" and "two from Debreczen" +was changed to "two from Debreczin". (Debreczen is the correct 19th +century spelling, but the translator consistently uses Debreczin +elsewhere in the text.) + +In Chapter III, a single quote (') was changed to a double quote (") +after "Why should we take carts for them?", and "enough for the week, +that they would take to reach Miskolcz" was changed to "enough for the +week that they would take to reach Miskolcz". + +In Chapter VI, "when were you last in the taproom of the Horotobagy inn" +was changed to "when were you last in the taproom of the Hortobagy inn". + +In Chapter IX, "Sandor Decsi, let no one notice" was changed to +"Sandor Decsi let no one notice". + +In Chapter X, quotation marks were added after "I've been looking for it +ever since" and "But Ferko Lacza only laughs to himself". + +In Chapter XI, a single quote (') was changed to a double quote (") +before "I beg your honour's pardon!", and "came out) she had been +lurking near the door)" was changed to "came out (she had been lurking +near the door)". + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW ROSE*** + + +******* This file should be named 34911.txt or 34911.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/9/1/34911 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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