Chapter I

MARIA CZOBOR'S ROSE, THE PRECIPICE, AND THE OLD PEAR-TREE.

Madame Krisbay was very much interested in the neighborhood they were driving through, and asked many questions. They passed a small chapel in the wood, and Veronica explained that a rich innkeeper had once been killed there by robbers, and the bereaved widow had built this chapel on the spot.

"Perhaps out of gratitude?" suggested Gyuri.

"Don't be so horrid," exclaimed Veronica.

The Liskovina Wood is quite like a park, with the exception that there is not much variety in the way of trees, the birch, the favorite tree of the Slovaks, being predominant. But of flowers there were any amount. The ferns grew to a great height, the Anthoxantum had flowered, and in its withered state filled the whole wood with its perfume. Among plants, as among people, there are some which are only pleasant and agreeable to others after their death. What a difference there is in the various kinds of plants! There is the gladiolus, the most important part of which is the bulb it hides under the earth; whoever eats it dreams of the future.

Much simpler is the ox-eye daisy, for it will tell you without any ceremonies if the person you are thinking of loves you very much, a little, or not at all; you have only to pull off its snow-white petals one by one, and the last one tells you the truth.

The wild pink provides food for the bee, the lily serves as a drinking-cup for the birds, the large dandelion is the see-saw of the butterflies. For the Liskovina woods are generous, and provide beds for all kinds of insects, strawberries for children, nosegays for young girls, herbs for old women, and the poisonous aconite, which the peasants in that part called the "Wolf-killer."

Whether it ever caused the death of a wolf is doubtful, for wolves have their fair share of sense, and probably, knowing something of botany, they tell their cubs: "Don't touch the Aconitum Lycotinum, children; it is better to eat meat."

It was delightful driving in the shady woods, though Madame Krisbay was alarmed each time a squirrel ran up a tree, and was in constant fear of the robbers who had killed the rich innkeeper.

"Why, that was eighty years ago, madame!"

"Well, and their sons?"

She was restless till they had got clear of the wood and had come to a large barren plain, with here and there a small patch of oats, stunted in their growth.

But after that they came to another wood, the far-famed "Zelena Hruska," in the shape of a pear. Supposing robbers were to turn up there!

And Gyuri was just wishing for their appearance while madame was thinking with horror of them. As he sat face to face with the girl, he decided to marry her--because of the umbrella. The girl was certainly pretty, but even had she not been so, the umbrella was worth the sacrifice. St. Peter had told him what to do, and he would follow his advice. Superstition, at which he had laughed the day before, had taken possession of him, and made a place for itself among his more rational thoughts. He felt some invisible power pushing him on to take this step. What power was it? Probably St. Peter, who had advised him in his dream to take it. But how was he to set to work? That was what was troubling him the whole time. How convenient it would be if there were some romance nowadays, as in olden times or in novels; for instance, if robbers were now to appear on the scene, and he could shoot them down one after the other with his revolver, and so free Veronica, who would then turn to him and say:

"I am yours till death!"

But as matters were at present, he did not dare to take any steps in the right direction; the words he had so well prepared seemed to stick in his throat. Doubts arose in his mind; supposing she had not taken a fancy to him! Supposing she were already in love! She must have seen other men besides himself, and if so, they _must_ have fallen in love with her. Something ought to happen to help matters on a little.

But no robbers came, there probably were none; it was a poor neighborhood, nothing grew there, not even a robber.

After they had passed the wood, they saw an old castle among the trees, on the top of a hill. It was the Castle of Slatina, had formerly belonged to the Czobors, and was now the property of the Princes of Coburg.

They had to stop at an inn to feed the horses, and Veronica proposed their going to look at the castle, of which an old man had charge; he would show them over it. The innkeeper assured them some of the rooms were just as the Czobors had left them; in the court were a few old cannon, and in the house a collection of curious old armor, and some very interesting family portraits, among them that of a little girl, Katalin Czobor, who had disappeared from her home at the age of seven. Veronica was very interested in the child.

"And what happened to her?" she asked.

"The poor child has never turned up to this day!" sighed the innkeeper.

"And when was it she disappeared?"

"About three hundred years ago," he answered with a smile, and then accompanied his guests up the mountain path that led to the castle.

They were silent on their return, only Madame Krisbay remarking:

"What a mouldy smell there was in there!"

Veronica had caught sight of a beautiful rose on a large bush near the half-ruined walls of the bastion.

"What an exquisite flower!" she exclaimed.

The old caretaker had a legend about that too. From this spot beautiful Maria Czobor had sprung from the walls, and thrown herself down the precipice, for her father wished her to marry an officer in the Emperor's army, and she was in love with a shepherd. The latter had planted a rose-bush on this spot, and every year it bore one single blossom. Gyuri dropped behind the others, and begged the old man to give him the rose.

"My dear sir, what are you thinking of? Why, the poor girl's spirit would haunt me if I were to do such a thing!"

Gyuri took out his purse and pressed two silver florins into the man's hand, upon which, without further ado, he took out his knife and cut the rose.

"Won't the young lady's spirit haunt you now?" asked Gyuri, smiling.

"No, because with part of the money I will have a Mass said for the repose of her soul."

Gyuri ran after the ladies with the rose in his hand, and offered it to Veronica.

"Here is Maria Czobor's rose," he said. "Will you give me your pink in exchange?"

But she put her hands behind her back, and said coldly:

"How could you have the heart to pick it?"

"I did it for your sake. Will you not exchange?"

"No; I would not for the world wear that flower; I should think I had stolen it from that poor girl."

"Will you really not accept it?"

"No!"

Gyuri threw the rose away, and it rolled down the hillside in the dust and dirt.

Veronica gazed pityingly after the flower as long as it was visible, then turned angrily to Gyuri.

"Is that the way to treat a flower? Had it hurt you in any way?"

"Yes," answered the lawyer shortly.

"Did it prick you?"

"It informed me of a very unpleasant fact."

"What was it?"

"It whispered the continuation of my last night's dream to me."

"What a little chatterbox!"

She turned her big eyes upon Gyuri and spoke in a jesting tone.

"I should have had a refusal!"

Veronica threw back her head, and turned her eyes toward heaven.

"Poor Mr. Wibra!" she exclaimed. "What misfortune to be refused in a dream!"

"Pray go on, make as much fun of it as you like," he said bitterly.

"And are you sure you would have been refused?"

"Yes, now I am sure of it," he answered sadly. "You might guess now of whom I dreamed."

"Of me?" she asked surprised, and the smile died away on her lips. "Of me?" she stammered again, then was silent, descending the hill quietly in madame's wake with bent head. She had lifted the skirt of her dress a little to prevent its dragging in the dust, and her little feet were partly visible as she tripped along with regular steps, treading on the grass and flowers, which, however, were not crushed by her footsteps, but rose again as she passed on.

A tiny lizard crossed their path, its beautiful colors shining in the sunlight. But what a sad fate befell it! Just at that moment a giant (well known in Besztercebanya) came that way, murmuring: "Why should it live?" and bringing down a heavy heel severed the poor lizard's head from its body.

Veronica just then turned round, and saw the cruel action; she felt inclined to cry over the poor lizard, but did not dare to say anything, for she herself began to be afraid of this Goliath, so she only murmured under her breath: "Wretch!"

When they were farther down the hill she saw before her the rose he had thrown away; there it lay, dirty and dusty, among the stones by the roadside, and, obeying a sudden impulse, she bent and picked it up, blowing the dust off its rosy petals, and then she placed it in the bosom of her dress, where it seemed as though it were in its right place at last. She did not say a word, nor did she look at that dreadful Goliath, but turned away her head, so that he could not see her face. But Goliath was quite satisfied at seeing the rose where he had wished it to be, and out of gratitude would have liked to restore the lizard to life, but that was of course impossible.

At the foot of the hill the carriage was waiting, and the travellers took their places again, this time with an uncomfortable feeling. Silently they sat opposite each other, one looking to the right, the other to the left, and if their eyes happened to meet they hastily turned them away. When they spoke, their remarks were addressed to Madame Krisbay, who began to notice that something had happened.

But what? Only a few childish words to which their minds had given a more serious meaning than they were meant to have, and had increased in size as once the professor's narrow cell in Hatvan, which the devil enlarged to such an extent that the whole town had place in it. Well, in those few words, everything was contained.

But now something else happened. I don't know how it was, but I think a pin dropped, and at the same moment Veronica bent down as though to look for it. In doing so the pink fell out of her hair into Gyuri's lap, and he picked it up in order to return it to her. But she made him a sign to keep it.

"If it _would_ not stay in my hair, and fell into your lap, you may as well keep it."

_Would_ it not have stayed in her hair? Was it quite an accident? thought Gyuri, as he smelt the flower. What a pleasant odor it had! Was it from her hair?

Now they were driving beside the Brana, the far-famed Brana, which quite shuts this part of the country off from the rest of the world, like an immense gate. That is why it is called the Brana, or gate. It is no common mountain, but an aristocrat among its kind, and in fine weather it wears a hat, for its summit is hidden in clouds. Several small streams make their way down its side, flowing together at the foot, and making one broad stream.

"That is the Bjela Voda," explained Veronica to Madame Krisbay, "we are not far from home now."

They still had to drive through one wood, and then the little white cottages of Glogova would be before them. But this was the worst bit of the road, crooked and curved, full of ruts and rocks, and so narrow that there was hardly room for the carriage to pass.

Janos turned round and said with a shake of his head:

"The king himself would grow crooked here!"

"Take care, Janos, that you don't upset us!"

Janos got down from his seat, and fastened one of the wheels firmly, for there was no brake to the carriage; and now the horses had to move at a funeral pace, and sometimes the road was so narrow between two hills that they could see nothing but the blue sky above them.

"This place is only fit for birds," muttered Janos.

"Don't you like this part of the country?"

"It is like a pock-marked face," he replied. "It is not the sort of place one would come to to choose a wife."

Gyuri started. Had the man discovered his intentions?

"Why do you think so?"

"My last master, the baron (Janos had been at some baron's before in Saros county), used to say to his sons, and he was a clever man too, 'Never look for a wife in a place where there are neither gnats, good air, nor mineral springs!'"

At this both Veronica and Gyuri were obliged to laugh.

"That's a real Saros way of looking at things. But, you see, you have vexed this young lady."

"According to your theory I shall have to be an old maid!" said Veronica.

But Janos vigorously denied the possibility of such a thing.

"Why, dear me, that is not likely; why ... you ..."

He wanted to say something complimentary, but could not find suitable words, and as chance would have it, his next words were nearer to swearing than to a compliment, for the shaft of the carriage broke. The ladies were alarmed, and Gyuri jumped down from his seat to see the extent of the damage done. It was bad enough, for it had broken off just near the base.

"What are we to do now?" exclaimed Janos. "I said this place was only fit for birds, who neither walk nor drive."

"Oh, that is nothing serious," said Gyuri, who at that moment was not to be put out by a shaft, nor by a hundred shafts.

"Give me your axe, and you go and hold the horses. I'll soon bring you something to fasten the shaft to, and strengthen it."

He took the axe out of the tool-box under the coachman's seat, said a few words to reassure the ladies, and then jumped the ditch by the side of the road.

There were some trees there, but they were as rare as the hairs on the head of an old man. First came a birch, then a hazelnut bush, then a black-thorn, then a bare piece of ground without any trees, and then again a few old trees. So it was rather difficult to find a suitable tree; one was too big, another too small; so Gyuri went on and on in search of one, and got so far that soon the carriage was out of sight, and only Veronica's red sunshade was to be seen in the distance, like a large mushroom. At length his eyes fell on a young birch, which grew near to a small precipice. It was too big for a seedling and too small for a tree, but well-grown and promising. All the same it must be sacrificed, and down came the axe.

But hardly had two or three blows been struck, when a voice was heard, crying out:

"Reta! Reta!" (Help! Help!)

Gyuri started and turned round. Who had called? The voice seemed quite close, but no one was visible far and near.

Again the call for help was repeated, and now it seemed to come out of the earth, and Gyuri immediately concluded it came from the precipice, and ran toward it.

"Here I am!" he called out. "Where are you and what is the matter?"

"I am down the precipice," was the answer; "help me, for God's sake!"

Gyuri looked down, and saw a figure there in a black coat, but he could not see much of it, for it would have been dangerous to have gone too near to the edge.

"How did you manage to get down there?"

"I fell in yesterday evening," answered the man in the black coat.

"What! Yesterday evening! And can't you get out?"

"It is impossible, for there is nothing to hold on to, and if I catch hold of any projecting bits, they give way, and I fall back with them."

"You are in a bad way altogether! And has no one passed here since then?"

"No one comes this way. I was prepared for the worst when I heard the sound of blows in the neighborhood. Thank God you came! Help me if you can, good man, whoever you may be, and I will reward you!"

"I will help you of course with the greatest pleasure, but I must think first how to manage it. If I let down the trunk of a small tree could you climb up it?"

"I am very weak from want of sleep and from hunger," answered the man, his voice getting weaker from shouting.

"Poor fellow! Wait a moment!"

He had suddenly remembered the apples Mrs. Mravucsan had put in his pockets that morning.

"Hallo, there! Lookout! I am going to throw down a few apples to go on with while I think over what I am to do."

He took the apples out of his pockets, and rolled them down one after the other.

All of a sudden he remembered that Veronica's was among them. Supposing she were vexed at his giving it away!

"Have you got them?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Please don't eat the red one, it is not mine."

"Very well, I will not eat it."

"You seem to be of the better class?"

"I am the parish priest of Glogova."

Gyuri, surprised, fell a step backward. How strange! The parish priest of Glogova! Could anything more unexpected have happened?

"I will get you out, your reverence; only wait a few minutes."

Back he ran to the carriage, which was waiting in the valley below. From this point the country round about looked like the inside of a poppy head cut in two. He did not go quite up to the carriage, but as soon as he was within speaking distance, shouted at the top of his voice to Janos:

"Take the harness off the horses, and bring it here to me; but first tie the horses to a tree."

Janos obeyed, grumbling and shaking his head. He could not make out what his master needed the harness for. He had once heard a wonderful tale of olden times, in which a certain Fatepoe Gabor (tree-felling Gabor) had harnessed two bears to a cart in a forest. Could Gyuri be going to do the same?

But whatever it was wanted for, he did as his master told him, and followed him to the precipice. Here they fastened the various straps together, and let them down.

"Catch hold of them, your reverence," called out Gyuri, "and we will pull you up."

The priest did as Gyuri said, but even then it was hard work to get him up, for the ground kept giving way under his feet; however, at length they managed it.

But what a state he was in, covered with dirt and dust; on his face traces of the awful night he had passed, sleepless and despairing, suffering the pangs of hunger. He hardly looked like a human being, and we (that is, my readers and I) who knew him years before would have looked in vain for the handsome, youthful face we remember. He was an elderly man now, with streaks of gray in his chestnut hair. Only the pleasant, amiable expression in his thin face was the same. He was surprised to see such a well-dressed young man before him--a rarity on the borders of the Glogova woods.

"How can I show you my gratitude?" he exclaimed, with a certain pathos which reminded one strongly of the pulpit.

He took a few steps in the direction of the stream, intending to wash his hands and face, but he stumbled and felt a sharp pain in his back.

"I must have hurt myself last night, when I fell, I cannot walk very well."

"Lean on me, your reverence," said Gyuri. "Luckily my carriage is not far off. Janos, you go on cutting down that tree, while we walk slowly on."

They certainly did go slowly, for the priest could hardly lift his left foot, and frequently stumbled over the roots of trees. The carriage was some way off, so they had plenty of time for conversation, and every now and then they sat down to rest on the trunk of a fallen tree.

"Tell me, your reverence, how did you come to be in this part of the country late at night?"

And then the priest related how he had expected his sister home yesterday, who had gone to meet her governess. As time went on, and there were no signs of them, he began to feel anxious, and toward evening became so restless that he did as he had often done before, and walked to the borders of the little wood. He walked on and on, finding the way by keeping his eye on the hills on both sides, and listened for the sounds of wheels in the distance. All at once it occurred to him that they might have gone round by the Pribalszky mill, which was a longer but prettier way to Glogova, and Veronica, his sister, was fond of the shade there. Of course that was what they had done, and they must have arrived at home long ago while he was looking for them. So the best way was to turn back at once, and in order to get home as soon as possible, he unfortunately struck across a side path. In his haste he must have stepped too near to the edge of the precipice and had fallen in.

"My poor little sister!" he sighed. "How anxious she must be about me!"

Gyuri would have liked to turn the priest's sorrow into joy.

"We will soon reassure the young lady, and your reverence will feel all right after a night's rest. In two or three days it will seem like an amusing incident."

"But which might have ended in a horrible death if Divine Providence had not sent you to help me."

"It really does seem as though Divine Providence had something to do with it. The shaft of my carriage broke, or I should never have come near that precipice."

"If I live to be a hundred I shall never forget your kindness to me, and your name will always have a place in my prayers. But how thoughtless of me! I have not even asked you your name yet."

"Gyuri Wibra."

"The well-known lawyer of Besztercebanya? And so young! I am glad to make the acquaintance of such an honorable man, sir, who is beloved in the whole of Besztercebanya; but I should be much more pleased if a poor man now stood before me, to whom I could give a suitable reward. But how am I to prove my gratitude to you? There is nothing I possess which you would accept."

A smile played around Gyuri's mouth.

"I am not so sure of that. You know we lawyers are very grasping."

"Is there really something, or are you joking?"

The lawyer did not answer immediately, but walked on a few steps toward an old wild pear-tree, which had been struck by lightning, and not far from which the carriage was standing.

"Well, yes," he answered then, slowly, almost in a trembling voice, "there is something I would gladly accept from you."

"And what is it?"

"It has just struck me that there is something in my carriage which you might give me."

"In your carriage?"

"Yes, something you do not know of yet, and which I should be very happy to possess."

The priest took him by the hand.

"Whatever it may be, it is yours!"

In another minute they had reached the pear-tree.

"There is my carriage."

The priest looked that way, and saw, first a red sunshade, then a black straw hat under it, with some white daisies in it, and beneath it a sweet, girlish face. It all seemed so familiar to him, the sunshade, the hat, and the face. He rubbed his eyes as though awaking from a dream, and then exclaimed, catching hold of the lawyer's arm:

"Why, that is my Veronica!"

The lawyer smiled quietly and bowed.

"That is," went on the priest in his kind, gentle voice, "for the future she is your Veronica, if you wish."

By this time Veronica had seen and recognized her brother, had jumped out of the carriage and run to meet him, calling out:

"Here we are, safe and sound. How anxious you must have been! And our carriage is broken to bits; and oh! if you had only seen the horses! All sorts of things have happened, and I have brought Madame Krisbay."

The priest embraced her, and was glad she seemed to know nothing of his accident. How sensible of Gyuri not to have mentioned it!

"Yes, yes, my darling, you shall tell me everything in order later on."

But Veronica wanted to tell everything at once, the carriage accident in Babaszek, the supper at Mravucsans' (oh, yes! she had nearly forgotten, Mr. Mravucsan had sent his kind regards), then to-day's journey, the loss of her earring and its recovery ...

The priest, who was slowly beginning to understand things, here broke in upon her recital.

"And did you give the finder of it a reward?"

She was silent at first at the unexpected question, then answered hurriedly:

"No, of course not, how can you think of such a thing? What was I to give? Besides, he would not accept anything."

"I am surprised at that, for he has since then applied to me for a reward."

"Impossible!" said Veronica, casting a side-glance at Gyuri. Strange doubts had arisen in her mind, and her heart began to beat.

"And what does he ask for?" she asked in a low voice.

"He wants a good deal. He asks for the earring he found, and with it its owner. And I have promised him both!"

Veronica bent her head; her face was suffused with burning blushes, her bosom heaved.

"Well? Do you give no answer? Did I do right to promise, Veronica?"

Gyuri took a step toward her, and said, in a low, pleading voice:

"Only one word, Miss Veronica!" then stood back under the shade of the pear-tree.

"Oh! I am so ashamed!" said Veronica trembling, and bursting into tears.

A breeze came up just then across the Brana, and shook the pear-tree, which shed its white petals, probably the last the old tree would bear, over Veronica's dress.