Chapter I (6)

"If that's the case," said the young man, with a look of contempt, "I shall be forced to do my duty as an honourable man without my father's consent; I shall be forced to leave a house which, it appears, is so completely monopolised by others, that there's no room left for me!"

"And which place does the young gentleman intend to honour with his presence?" sneered Lady Rety. "Does he propose to reside on the domains of his lady-love?"

"There's no occasion for it!" replied Akosh, trembling with excitement. "My mother's property will suffice for me now that she is dead. If she were alive, I'd not be forced to leave my father's house in this manner!"

"Ungrateful wretch!" screamed Lady Rety; "do you reproach me with my condescension? I was born a Baroness of Andorhazy, and nothing compelled _me_ to marry a common-place nobleman! I am sure _I_ was not honoured by the alliance! No, it was _I_ who honoured your family! And as for your mother's property, you shan't have it! You are not of age. You have no right to claim it!"

"I shall be of age in about six weeks."

"And I say no! and no! and no! I scorn the match! I won't stand the disgrace--the infamy! Your father will disown you! curse you! I say I will not allow you to disgrace the name which _I_ bear!"

Akosh would have spoken, but she continued:--

"I will not suffer it! What? is the daughter of a village notary to become my daughter-in-law! A woman without a name! a woman with scarcely a rag to her back! a woman I despise!"

"My lady!" cried Akosh.

"Yes, a dishonourable woman! Your mistress before she was your wife; a----"

The cup was full. Akosh, in a frenzy of passion, rushed forward to attack his step-mother, but the sheriff caught his arm as it descended.

"How dare you?" screamed the young man; "how dare _you_ say so! _you_, the accomplice of robbers and thieves! _You_, who are indeed the disgrace of our house! Why woman, if I were to speak, I could send you to gaol, to your fellows!"

His words were so many thunders in Lady Rety's ear. She stood deadly pale, trembling, with downcast eyes--a picture of guilt and misery. There is no saying what the sheriff might not have done but for Vandory's entrance, which put a stop to all further explanations. When the curate entered, Lady Rety seized her husband's hand and led him out of the room. Akosh, still exhausted with his illness, and fearfully excited, flung himself on the sofa, and wept.

A short time afterwards the sheriff's servant brought a note, in which Rety asked his son to leave the house at his earliest convenience. The curate offered to effect a compromise, but Akosh insisted on going immediately. He took a hurried leave of Etelka, and accompanied Vandory, who had offered him shelter under his own roof.

CHAP. XI.

The majority of mankind are more or less eloquent on the subject of the wounds which love inflicts on the human heart, while they most unjustly forget that if love makes wounds, he also heals them, and that his sorrows and pains are as nothing in comparison to the joys he gives us, by rendering us (for the time) insensible to the other griefs that flesh is heir to. This healing and protecting power of love relieved young Rety from the sorrows that would otherwise have beset his mind, and caused him to triumph over griefs which might have borne down a stouter heart than his.

Vandory introduced his young guest to his house; and this done, he hastened to Tengelyi. The notary was just returned from a journey to some distant place, where he had been consulting a legal friend of his. He was preparing to set out again for Kishlak, to talk to Viola, when he was informed of the prisoner's escape. This news deprived him of all hopes of profiting from Viola's confession; and the disappointment was the more painful from the fact of its strengthening his suspicions of the Rety family. Vandory's conversation did much to calm his mind, and the two friends had a long debate on the situation of affairs, and the danger which threatened Vilma's reputation, in the course of which the curate put great stress on the fact that young Rety's love to Vilma was the cause of his banishment from his father's house. Tengelyi was at length induced to promise that he would not oppose his daughter's attachment to Akosh; and when Vandory hastened away, and returned accompanied by the trembling lover, the notary gave him a kind and even hearty welcome, and, by way of a practical demonstration of the old proverb, "the least said, the soonest mended," he led young Rety to his daughter. Having thus far yielded to the influence of his wise and judicious friend, he returned to Vandory, saying, as if to excuse his own weakness,

"After all, what can we do? They love one another; and fate, it appears, wills their union."

"I've often told you so, but you would not believe me."

"I was not always convinced of it; I wished for an older husband for my daughter, for a man equal to her in rank and position; but fate has willed it otherwise. And, after all, Akosh is thoroughly good and honourable. He will protect my boy,--poor little fellow! he has lost caste, and is now no better than a '_villain_.' My daughter's reputation would have been lost, for we all know Lady Rety's malice: but this marriage will set all right again. In short, it were folly to oppose it, however hostile my principles are to alliances of this kind."

Thus the notary. And love, which but a few days ago had endangered the tranquillity and peace of his house, served now to make it brighter and gladder than ever. But the inmates of the manor-house of Tissaret were a prey to grief and vexation of spirit.

Immediately after the stormy scene in Akosh's room, Lady Rety conducted her husband to her own apartments, where she told him the secret of the recent events, to which she added Mr. Catspaw's account of what had happened during the trial of Viola. The sheriff was shocked and alarmed, though far less than his wily wife had been led to expect. He left her to think the matter over in his study. Lady Rety remained alone, a prey to the bitterest feelings. She thought of what Akosh had said, and of the sacrifices which she pretended to have made for that young man's benefit.

"What," thought she, "what did I slave for? Why did I put my head into the snares of that hateful attorney? Why, indeed? Was it not to raise this family, and to secure a large fortune to that young fool, who now turns against me?"

She sobbed and clasped her hands.

"My life," continued she, "has been _one_ long struggle, a continued sacrifice of my feelings to objects which escaped from my grasp. The man I loved was poor. I felt that my heart yearned for better things than the insipid happiness of a good housewife. I married Rety because his fortune and his position gave me a promise of rank, splendour, and distinction. And what is it I have come to be?--I am a sheriff's lady, the wife of a man who has neither talents nor energy which could raise him to a higher position. Well, I was resigned. I sought another basis for my happiness. I thought of raising Rety's children to that lofty position which their father wanted the strength to reach, or even to covet. What are these children to me? They are not my own children. They have not sprung from my blood. But they bear my name; and though they hate me, their step-mother, still they could not prevent me from profiting by the position into which I wished to force them. All my endeavours were directed to that end. And now! now! I have lost all! All my plans, all the struggles of so many years are in vain, and only because Akosh is in love with Vilma! There's nothing too high for him, and he--he turns his back on me, on the world, on splendour and wealth; and all for the notary's daughter. Confusion! and I cannot even revenge myself on him!"

And Lady Rety racked her inventive mind to find a means to cross her son's plans; but she sickened at the thought that the notary, whom she hated because she could not despise him, was likely to triumph over her. She was lost in these painful thoughts, when Mr. Catspaw entered her room. Lady Rety asked him what the sheriff was doing.

"He is rather excited," said the attorney, seating himself unceremoniously, and with a freedom of manner which was by no means in keeping with his usual respectful politeness. "Your ladyship can have no idea of his state of mind. Indeed he has gone to the length of abusing me--the poor sheriff! But who the deuce can help it? It's a dirty business, and in his position too----"

There was something in Mr. Catspaw's voice and manner which struck Lady Rety, and which made by no means an agreeable impression upon her.

"You are merry, sir," said she; "though really I cannot understand what there is to laugh at?"

"But I can!" replied Mr. Catspaw. "The man who is in at the death, and after a hard run too, has a right to be merry."

"But we are not in at the death!" retorted Lady Rety; "Viola is at large, and we are suspected."

"Fiddlesticks!" exclaimed the attorney, with a loud burst of laughter. "Viola's escape is nothing to us. Is he not sentenced to death? Is he not aware that he cannot appear against us, without bringing his own skin to market? or do you think that the robber will come to be hanged, merely for the pleasure of giving evidence against you and me? And as for any one suspecting us, why it's sheer nonsense! The thing is too bad for anybody to believe it!"

"You would change your opinion if you could hear what Akosh says. I am afraid he knows more than is good for him and for us."

"Fiddlesticks! Stuff and nonsense!" cried the attorney. "What can _he_ know? I dare say he has smelled a rat, but that's all. But I'll dodge him, madam; I'll dodge him!"

"You are determined to see the bright side of things," said Lady Rety, amazed; for usually it was the worthy attorney's habit rather to increase than to lessen the difficulties of a question.

"Why should I not?" answered Mr. Catspaw, as he leaned over towards her. "Have I not devoted my whole life to your family? And have I not braved all dangers? And now that the time of my reward is come, what can prevent me from enjoying myself?"

"What do you mean, sir?" said Lady Rety, with a stare.

"Oh, my dear, good, clever lady, you know to a nicety what I mean! How can you help it?" cried the attorney in a bantering tone, as he seized her hand. "Why should you pretend to make sport of your humble servant? What was your promise? Whenever I could lay my hands on Vandory's papers, I was to have a grant of land as a reward for my faithful services,--_propter fidelia servitia_. You know it was mentioned on the day of the canvass. Your ladyship must remember it; we were in the garden----"

"Yes, yes! I know all about it."

"And what were your ladyship's words on that memorable occasion?"

"I said, My dear Catspaw, on the day you produce those papers, we will transfer the land."

"Oh, your ladyship, I too remember those words which bound me to you with chains of gold. Here, in my heart, they are written in golden letters, and----"

"Why do you remind me of that promise? Do you doubt me, sir?"

"Not I, indeed!" cried Mr. Catspaw, as he pressed her hand. "No! I am sure you mean to stand by what you said. It's the very reason, you know, why I am come to consult you about the draft of the document. Your ladyship will understand, that in the preamble some mention must be made of my merits and my natural modesty----"

"_C'est une vertu que vous cachez avec soin!_" said Lady Rety, sarcastically. "Well, sir, I agree to an enumeration of your transcendent merits. Leave it to me! I will take care that the document is drawn up; but I trust the affair is not pressing."

"Who knows?" replied the attorney, with a sigh. "We are all of us mortal, and----"

"I hope that _I_ do not look like a dying woman!" retorted Lady Rety, with an impatient shrug of her shoulders.

"God forbid, that I, your devoted servant, should live to mourn your loss! But, after all, who can be sure of to-morrow? and am I, whose only hope lies in your promise, to risk my all, and perhaps lose it?"

Lady Rety overcame the disgust she felt at Mr. Catspaw's impertinence. She replied that the suspicion which attached to them must necessarily increase, if such a reward were given to the attorney at this particular time.

"It is much safer to wait," added she, in a confidential tone. "You see the affair must blow over: but to satisfy your mind, I repeat my promise; and depend upon it, my dear Mr. Catspaw, you'll find me as good as my word!"

The attorney kissed her hand in a transport of joy.

"A proud man indeed I am!" said he; "for where is so distinguished a lady to be found as my gracious mistress? so careful, so clever, and so businesslike a lady! And your ladyship is right: there are few solicitors who get through their work as I do; and in the other point too you are right, indeed you are! A cession of land, at this particular time, might possibly get us into a scrape. The truth of the matter is, I thought so too. I intended to point it out to you, but your ladyship's sagacity puts me to the blush. What I wished to direct your attention to is, that there is another way to vent your generous liberality, and to keep the affair quite snug and secret. My plan is a most simple one. Your ladyship need only persuade my gracious master, the sheriff, to sign five bills of ten thousand florins each, of course with convenient terms for payment, say from six to six months. After that----"

"This is a bad joke!" said Lady Rety, staring at Mr. Catspaw in wild amazement. "Fifty thousand florins in Austrian money----"

"I was never more serious in my life. Please to consider that----"

"But it's thrice the value of the grant I promised you!"

"A fair valuation of the land would perhaps amount to a higher figure. Besides, your ladyship must see that the affair was more troublesome and dangerous than I was led to suppose; then there's the loss of my reputation, for Viola's evidence does go for something against me; and, besides, I have paid the Jew a large sum, and I know he'll be at me again, for, to tell you the truth, I believe that Jew has some idea of your ladyship's being mixed up in the affair; and considering all this, it is but fair----"

"Do you really mean to say you expect me to satisfy your impertinent demand?" said Lady Rety, boiling with rage; "do you think me and my husband so foolish as that? What! are we to get into debt for your sake?"

Her violence made no impression on the attorney, who replied with the utmost coolness:

"I'm sure, your ladyship, you are so clever, and so businesslike and generous, that----"

"No, sir, no!" screamed Lady Rety. "Don't you rely upon my generosity, or folly, if you please! Indeed, Mr. Catspaw, I'm happy to know you at last! I'm proud to understand what was at the bottom of your zeal!"

"Your ladyship does me too much honour!" said Mr. Catspaw, with his grating voice; "and it's a pity that you should endanger your precious health by the violence of your gratitude. But this generous burst of passion adds to my conviction that your ladyship will joyfully embrace my proposals."

"Your proposals, indeed!" cried the lady. "You are an impertinent scoundrel, sir! I'd like to see the man that can force _me_ to any thing! The very fulfilment of my promise depends upon my own free will. Where are your witnesses, sir? Where's your judge? No, sir! You have nothing to rely upon except my generosity, particularly since you neglected to fulfil the very first condition of our bargain. Where _are_ those papers, sir? for all _I_ know they may be at Vandory's, or somebody else's; and you, sir, how dare you ask me for money on the wretched plea of your having burnt them!"

"Nothing is so easy for me as to satisfy your ladyship on that point," retorted the attorney, with a sneer. "The papers are still in my hands. You are welcome to see them any time you like."

Lady Rety stood trembling, speechless, and stunned. At length she muttered,--

"You forget, sir! You told me you'd thrown them into the fire."

"I'm fully aware of it!" sneered Mr. Catspaw, "And not only did I tell you I'd burnt the papers, but for a moment I had that insane intention. Thank goodness! I did not carry it into execution."

"But why did you not give me the papers?" said Lady Rety, with so trembling a voice that it was clear she knew the attorney's motives.

"Why did I not give them to _you_? Can your ladyship dare to ask me such a question? But I'll tell you. I did not do it, because, having devoted my life to yourself and your family, I had no mind to be cast aside like a used-up tool. I kept the papers, because I would not trust to your generosity, and because I thought it was better to be safe than to be a fool."

"Do let us talk it quietly over. Suppose I _was_ violent just now! are we not old friends? and have you not spoiled me?" said Lady Rety, forcing a smile. "The papers are in your hands: they are your property; and nothing can be more fair than your wish to sell them. But your demand of fifty thousand florins is utterly inadmissible."

"I would not take one penny less than that," replied Mr. Catspaw, with great composure. "Papers for the possession of which a lady of your ladyship's rank and condition condescends to such deeds as we enacted together, I say, such papers must be worth their weight in gold."

"Beast!" growled Lady Rety, as she walked to and fro in the room.--"My friend," said she, turning to her antagonist, "please to consider my position. You know I have not one fourth part of the money in my possession; and the bills, to be valid, must have my husband's signature. How can I induce him to consent to so great a sacrifice?"

"I know your ladyship's power too well! Nothing can be easier for you than to induce the sheriff to sign the bills. Everybody knows how irresistible your ladyship is!"

Lady Rety made no reply to this cutting speech; but she turned, to hide the tears which bedewed her cheeks. The attorney walked to the window, and drew figures on the panes. After a long pause, the lady mustered up her resolution; and, boldly confronting the lawyer, she asked: "Do you really mean to stand by your demand?"

"I do, indeed," replied Mr. Catspaw.

"You will not let me have the papers under fifty thousand florins?"

"Certainly not."

"Very well, sir; keep them!" said Lady Rety, with a loud laugh: "keep them, sir! make the most of them! What do I care about Akosh's fortune now, since he _will_ marry the notary's daughter! and it was for his sake alone I wanted those cursed papers."

"Am I to make the most of them? Am I, indeed?" said Mr. Catspaw, somewhat startled by the sudden turn of the debate.

"Of course you are!" said Lady Rety. "I declare it's quite amusing! To think that I should have forgotten that I have no reason whatever to care for them since the young gentleman told me his mind! And as for you, my dear sir, indeed it grieves me, but your conduct of this evening will certainly induce me to re-consider my promise,--about the grant, you know."

"Nothing more natural. The papers have possibly lost their former value in your ladyship's eyes; nothing can be more natural, woman's heart is so changeable! but, in my eyes, they retain much of their original value. That value, madam," said Mr. Catspaw, seizing the lady's hand, and affectionately pressing it, "is enhanced by the _manner_ in which we became possessed of them."

"_We?_ Mr. Catspaw! What do you mean, sir?"

"What I mean is clear enough," retorted he, still squeezing her hand. "Viola has accused your ladyship of theft, and of being a partner to a robbery. No matter! Viola is a robber: no man in his senses will believe a word he says. But suppose another witness were to come into court, say, for instance, _I_ were to appear against your ladyship, say I were to give evidence fully corroborating the robber's statements; and suppose, in confirmation of my evidence, I were to produce the papers we stole, the contents of which would prove, beyond the possibility of a doubt, that you, and only you, could have an interest in their abstraction,--what then? My humble opinion is, the affair would make some stir in the county."

"Nonsense!" said Lady Rety. "I do not fear your threats; knowing, as I do, that you cannot ruin me without ruining yourself."

"Don't be too sure of that! We are not exactly in the same position. I'm not interested in the papers; but your ladyship is. I am a poor lawyer; and suppose I were to come into court, declaring that I devoted my life to the service of your house, that my zeal got the better of my duty, and that I assisted your ladyship in the theft; but that, repentant and conscience-stricken, I come to accuse myself, and to give the stolen property up to the court,--is there not a deal of pathos in such an account? Can it fail to touch the hearts of the judges?"

"Demon!" gasped Lady Rety, as she flung herself on the sofa, and covered her face with her hands.

The attorney proceeded:--

"The business will give me a good reputation, and some profit, too. Akosh would do any thing to get Tengelyi's papers. Perhaps he is open to a negotiation; and Vandory, too, (he delights in repentant sinners,) will take my part. But as for your ladyship----"

"Devil! cease to torment me!" screamed the lady, clasping her hands.

"The sheriff's lady in gaol!--it's an ugly thing. The sheriff's influence no doubt would go for something to make the punishment short and mild; they would give you, say, six months, or three months; but still,--you have been in gaol, and,--for thieving in company with a Jew. Besides, there are the cross-examinations, the evidence----"

"Catspaw!" screamed Lady Rety, with the bound of a wounded panther, "No! you cannot do that!"

"I can and I will do it, unless I have the bills on Friday next."

"You shall have them!"

"Five bills of ten thousand florins each, and signed by the sheriff."

"Yes."

"The bills to be payable from six to six months."

"I know it all. For pity's sake, leave me!" cried she, with a dying voice.

"You shall have the papers the day you give me the bills," added the attorney, seizing his hat. "Good night, my lady!" And he left the room.

The noise of his steps had scarcely ceased to sound in the hall, when the door of the hall stove opened, and Peti's curly head appeared in the gap. The gipsy was Mr. Rety's stove-heater; and, in the present instance, he had crept through the chimney to Lady Rety's apartments, where he had listened to her conversation with Mr. Catspaw. He was just about to leave the place, when he met Janosh.

"Dear me! what's the matter?" cried the hussar. "Your face is all soot and ashes, man!"

"No wonder it is!" said the gipsy, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. "You know I am always at that dirty work."

"At it again, man! Make large fires in this house! Give them a taste of hell! I am going to join my master. I've packed my things, and I've done with this house, d--n it!"

"Are you, too, going?"

"With a vengeance, my boy!" replied Janosh. "I've eaten the sheriff's bread, and I never dreamt I should ever leave his house without saying 'God bless you!' But that's the way they've sent my master about his business. Good night!"

The hussar hastened away. Peti took his bunda, crept to the garden, and disappeared in the darkness of the night.

CHAP. XII.

On the following day the sheriff's house resumed its usual tranquil appearance. Mr. Rety, indeed, looked dispirited and gloomy, and Etelka was less cheerful than usual. Lady Rety, too, looked pale; but whatever her feelings were, she kept them under command; and when Mr. Catspaw made his appearance, she received him with a smile, which had lost nothing of its former graciousness. Lady Rety's temper, however violent, was never allowed to interfere with her plans: Mr. Catspaw knew this. He was too familiar with the lady's character to confide in the treacherous tranquillity of her appearance, especially since her maid had told him that her mistress had not gone to bed that night; that she walked to and fro, and showed other signs of restlessness; and that early in the morning she shut the windows of her room with such violence that she broke several panes of glass, which were symptoms--as Mr. Catspaw sagely observed--of an unsettled and disturbed mind. He watched her closely, though unsuccessfully; and none but the chamber-maid knew that Lady Rety, instead of sending the broken windows to the Jewish glazier, had ordered that man to come to her room; and that, strange to say, although the lady remained in the room while the Jew was at work, she never once raised her voice for the purposes of correction and abuse. But as Lady Rety complained of headache and fever, the chamber-maid was justified in finding a reason for this extraordinary mildness in the weak state of her health.

On the third day, however, she was so far restored, that she could accompany her husband and Etelka on a visit to Dustbury. Mr. Catspaw alone remained at home. He was anxious and restless; indeed he would gladly have accompanied the family, for he could not believe in his own safety unless he had his eye on Lady Rety. And that she should go to Dustbury of all places!

"This woman," said Mr. Catspaw, "would do any thing to injure me. I'm sure she has settled a plan of revenge in her mind; I'm quite sure of it! her seeming kindness makes it clear beyond the possibility of a doubt. What can it be? I would not mind it if she were to abuse me or swear at me; but I don't like her present manner,--indeed I don't like it," said Mr. Catspaw, emphatically, as if to convince himself of the very dangerous nature of Lady Rety's intentions. He thought of all and any thing she might, could, or would do; but there was nothing he could think of by which she could ruin him with safety to herself.

"But is it not possible for her to sacrifice her safety to her vindictiveness?" said the attorney; "and if she does, who is the victim? I? It was I who took an active part in the theft. How am I to prove her guilt? Viola knows all about it; but Viola is not likely to show his face again. The county is too hot to hold him. As for the Jew, he'll be as false to me as he is to everybody else; and when once accused, who will believe me if I accuse the sheriff's wife? I must needs make friends," exclaimed the amiable attorney; "everybody hates me; and the cleverest man cannot stand the attacks of numbers. But what am I to do?"

After a careful examination of his position, it appeared to him that there were two ways of providing for unforeseen contingencies. The first was to ingratiate himself with Lady Rety by preventing young Rety's marriage; the second, to creep into that young man's favour. The thing was difficult, but it could be done. After receiving the bills, he could easily retain a few of Vandory's papers. Lady Rety had never seen them: she could not, therefore, suspect any thing. At a later period he (the attorney) thought of presenting those letters and Tengelyi's papers to Akosh, telling him how they were obtained, and what share Lady Rety had in the transaction. Akosh was sure to keep the secret; and, as for Lady Rety, it was not likely that she would accuse Mr. Catspaw, if she knew that her own son was prepared to give evidence against her.

His resolution once taken, he commenced with his usual energy to carry it out; and being informed that the notary was out walking with Vandory and Akosh, and that Mrs. Tengelyi and Vilma were alone, he hastened to the notary's house, studying his part as he walked along, and comforting himself with the reflection, that, however ill they might receive him, they were but women he would have to contend with, he knocked softly at the door.

Mrs. Ershebet and Vilma were at work in the notary's room. They were not a little startled by the attorney's appearance; and Mrs. Ershebet's tone was none of the kindest, when she asked him why and what he came for? but he managed to reply, with the utmost coolness, that he wished to pay his respects to Mr. Tengelyi and his family; and, suiting the action to the word, he took a chair, and waited to be spoken to.

His quiet assurance confounded Mrs. Ershebet. Mr. Catspaw knew it would, and, knowing this, he had prudently timed his visit so as not to meet Mr. Tengelyi. He suspected that the notary would not give him time to say all the kind words which were to make his peace with the family. The attorney's misgivings on that head showed his astounding sagacity; for, indeed, nothing was more likely than that the notary, regardless of his exordiums, would rush into _medias res_ by kicking him out of doors.

Mrs. Ershebet spoke reluctantly, but she spoke. Their conversation was of the weather, the crops, and other things; and when Vilma left the room, the attorney turned to Mrs. Tengelyi, and drawing his chair to her table, said:--

"I am happy the dear girl is gone! I want to speak to you about a subject which concerns your family, and especially your angel Vilma. I know I can open my heart to you, for you are as clever as you are kind."

This flattering speech, and the tone of confidential adulation in which it was spoken, told less strongly upon Mrs. Tengelyi than Mr. Catspaw expected it would. But she concealed her disgust; and hoping to learn something about her husband's papers, she intreated the attorney to speak.

"My dear Mrs. Ershebet," continued that learned man, with a grotesque whine, "permit me again to address you with the words which at one time were so dear to my heart, and whose sound still fills my soul with the reminiscences of youth!"

"Sir!" said Mrs. Tengelyi, angrily, "the less you remind me of the past the better; and, moreover, you know, that at that time too----"

"Do you think I can have forgotten," sighed Mr. Catspaw, "that when, many years ago, I offered you my heart and my hand, you rejected me with contempt, and that you preferred Tengelyi and poverty to Catspaw and tranquil happiness? But, oh! what agonies might have been spared to us if my respected Ershebet had been less blindly devoted to Tengelyi's shining talents, which after all cannot keep the pot boiling."

"If you _have_ something to say, say it, sir! or if you must needs mention my husband, do it with proper respect, and consider to whom you are speaking!"

"God forbid!" said the attorney, humbly, "that I should say or think any offence to Mr. Tengelyi! No! I respect him above all men; and though he wounded my heart, for it is he who robbed me of my hopes of happiness, of my hopes of possessing you--and----"

"Enough!" replied Mrs. Ershebet, with a look of contempt. "I think we know each other. You have given us so many proofs of your love and respect, that we can dispense with your protestations."

The attorney sighed.

"Ah!" said he, "I grieve to find you a victim to the very delusion which enthrals Mr. Tengelyi's mind. You too believe that I am the cause, or at least the promoter, of the lamentable Dustbury quarrel. Very well! I submit. The future will show how greatly you wrong me!"

"Heaven grant that it be so!" sighed Mrs. Tengelyi; "and whatever cause we may have to complain of you, you can rely on my sincere gratitude, if you exert yourself in behalf of my children."

"No thanks! my dearest Mrs. Ershebet, no thanks!" said the attorney, with increasing warmth. "My heart's best wish is to show you that I am still faithful to the love of my youth. If I can prove this, I am amply rewarded; and I believe there is now an opportunity to convince you of my constancy."

Mrs. Tengelyi was astonished, and more than half frightened; but she replied that she had no doubt that Mr. Catspaw's position and influence could be beneficially exerted in behalf of her family.

"Do not suppose that my influence is so great as people say it is. They say that my word is law in Mr. Rety's house. The sheriff and his wife's doings are put down as mine. They have the benefit of the obloquy which falls on me, but I have the vexation and the enmities which ought to be their share. God knows, things would be far different if I had my will. But--never mind! I _have_ some influence in Rety's house, and perhaps I can exert it to your advantage. Mr. Tengelyi, I understand, has been summoned to show cause why he should not be considered as being in a state of _villanage_?"

The coolness with which this question was asked by the very man whom she considered as the prime mover of her husband's troubles, surprised Mrs. Tengelyi to such an extent that she was unable to make any reply.

"And I learn," continued the attorney, "that the papers, by means of which he expected to prove his noble descent have been feloniously abstracted from these premises?"

"If anybody ought to know, it is you!" cried Mrs. Tengelyi, with utter disgust.

"I understand you," said Mr. Catspaw, with a placid smile; "and I am free to confess that I feel hurt that I, of all men, should be suspected of such a thing. Even if such an action were not repugnant to my feelings, I cannot understand what hopes of profit or advantage it could possibly hold out to me. I have no claims on Mr. Tengelyi. His rights or wrongs have no influence on my fortunes or interests. To suppose that I should be guilty of the gratuitous perpetration of such a crime is simply absurd."

"I cannot dispute with you; but, from what my husband says, and from what we have heard of Viola's depositions, it appears----"

"But, dearest Mrs. Ershebet, if this were the case, can you think that I would have dared to come to your house? Why it were the greatest piece of impertinence,--and of folly" (added he, seeing that the former supposition seemed by no means unlikely to Mrs. Tengelyi,) "and, indeed, of madness, if, after so much danger and risk for the purpose of wronging Mr. Tengelyi, I would now exert myself for his advantage."

"As yet we have no proofs of your wish to do any such thing," dryly remarked Mrs. Tengelyi.

"Heaven knows," said Mr. Catspaw, with a pious look to the ceiling,--"Heaven knows, madam, how unjustly you treat me! If you could but know what I did to prevent the person--but no matter! I intend to give you proofs of my friendship, and to gain the esteem even of Mr. Tengelyi, your respected husband."

"God grant it! As far as in us lies, you may rely on our gratitude."

"No gratitude! Do not mention it! What I want is your friendship. The papers," added the attorney, looking cautiously round, and drawing his chair to Mrs. Tengelyi's side, "I say, are the papers such that they give full and satisfactory proofs of your husband's noble descent?"

"Of course they do. What of that?"

"Indeed, indeed!" said Mr. Catspaw, abstractedly. "Important matter! Valuable papers! What baptism is in the kingdom of Heaven, that is noble descent in the kingdom of Hungary. I understand your grief now, and especially when I think what is to become of your little boy!----"

"For God's sake, cease to torment me! If you know what has become of them----"

"But tell me," said Mr. Catspaw, "have you lost _all_ your papers? Are none of the documents left?"

"None!" sighed Mrs. Tengelyi. "They were tied in a parcel, and they are all gone. But if you know where they are, I pray, I entreat you to tell me. If I have ever offended you, pray consider that my children, at least, are innocent of any grudges you may think you owe me!"

Mr. Catspaw had some difficulty to conceal the joy he felt at the effect of his words.

"Alas!" said he, with a sigh, "if it were my own case--believe me, dearest Mrs. Ershebet, if I only knew where the papers are, I'd walk a thousand miles to restore them to you!"

"Do you mean to say that you do _not_ know where they are?" cried Mrs. Tengelyi, with amazement.

"How should I? Do but consider the matter. What Viola says is a mere invention. Let me ask you again: what are those documents to _me_, that I should commit a felony for them?"

"But in what way do you propose to assist my children, if you cannot help us to prove our nobility?"

"But who tells you that I do not mean to assist you in recovering your nobility?" retorted the attorney, with a smile. "As for papers and documents, never mind them! We can do without them."

Mrs. Tengelyi stared at him, but he went on:--

"My dearest Mrs. Ershebet, we live in Hungary, you know, though I am afraid you are wofully ignorant of the doings and dealings of Hungarian life. Who ever heard of nobility being obtained and proved by documents only? Fancy, if every man enjoying the privileges of a nobleman were to be asked for his parchments! I assure you such a proceeding would make greater havoc amongst us than the battle of Mohatsh.[27] Don't you see, my dear madam, that there is a better and simpler way to prove noble descent, viz., by _usus_. Of late they have called it prescription, but that word does not embrace the idea in all its bearings; for prescription is, after all, a kind of law, and where there's law there's no occasion for _usus_; nay, it is a peculiarity of the _usus_ that it presupposes something which is not, and has not been, and never can be founded on law. For instance, you have a large field, and I am your neighbour. I encroach on your field, and plough a small piece away every season. At length you bring an action against me. Very well. I prove that I was in the '_usus_:' that I have always ploughed and reaped to a certain point--say a stone, or tree, or any thing you like. Very well. You say it's a bad habit of mine, and that the field belongs to you. But it's all of no use: I've the _usus_ on my side, and if you go on with your action you're a fool, that's all. Or say, you and I are joint proprietors of a farm. I keep sheep, and you don't. At last you take it into your head to keep sheep. But I say, 'No, you shall not!' And why? Because I've the _usus_ for me!"

[Footnote 27: See Note X.]

"But of what use is all this in our case?"

"This is the use. As you can get any thing by _usus_, so you can get the privileges of nobility by it also."

"I cannot understand this," said Mrs. Tengelyi.

"And yet it is as clear as daylight. I say A. or B. has not a rag of paper to prove his nobility with; nay, more: he himself is aware that his family are not noble; but he has friends in the county, who have kept the tax-gatherer from his door. Now suppose somebody questions his noble descent; what a horrid thing would it be for the poor man if he were compelled to prove how, and why, and when his ancestors were ennobled! No, he simply shows that he never paid any taxes, and he is at once established as a nobleman; especially if he can prove that he has attended an election, where he thrashed somebody, or where somebody thrashed him; for, if there's a thrashing in the case, I'd like to see the man who would dare to doubt the _usus_. I remember the case of a party against whom they brought an action of that kind, and who proved that his grandfather was repeatedly sent to gaol for horse-stealing, without having ever been subjected to corporal punishment. Very well. The _usus_ was proved, that's all. Believe me, you are sadly mistaken if you fancy that you want documents to prove your noble descent. There are many counties in which hundreds of _villains_ are admitted to the franchise by the parties in office, merely for the purpose of carrying a contested election. All you want for the purpose is a friend and----"

"Alas! we have no friends!" sighed Mrs. Tengelyi.

"No, but you have, my dear madam!" cried Mr. Catspaw, nodding his head with great energy; "I say, madam, you have friends who would do any thing to be of service to you! who would hire a score of witnesses to swear that Mr. Tengelyi is descended _rectâ viâ_ from a count's family. Even Mr. Rety----"

"I am sure _he_ will oppose us to the last."

"You are mistaken. When he once sees what interest I take in you, he too will be eager to stop the recorder's process against your husband. I assure you, Mr. Rety is a dear good gentlemanly man; and if we could but remove the cause of this disagreeable quarrel, dear me! I don't see why they shouldn't be as they were at the German university.--I speak of your husband and Mr. Rety, madam."

"What do you mean?"

"The cause of the quarrel, you know, is young Rety's love to that dear girl, Vilma. If means could be found to arrange that business, I am sure we'd go on smoothly and comfortably."

"I am afraid you are not aware, sir," said Mrs. Tengelyi, to whom these words gave a clue to the attorney's intentions, "that it is no use trying to remove that cause of the quarrel. Akosh has made a formal offer; Vilma loves him, and he has our consent. If the sacrifice of my daughter's happiness is the only thing you have to propose----"

"But who thinks of sacrificing the poor girl's happiness?" said Mr. Catspaw, reproachfully. "What man can desire the dear angel's happiness more than I do? But I say, are her affections irrevocably fixed on the sheriff's son?"

Mrs. Tengelyi would have spoken, but the attorney interrupted her.

"A great name and a large fortune are capital things! indeed they are; and I, of all men, ought to know it. It's a fine thing to have your daughter living in a large house, and driving about in a carriage-and-four; but is this happiness? Why, you yourself are the best proof that it is not. You might have married a wealthy man, who would have led you a comfortable life; but you preferred Tengelyi----"

"If you think," cried Mrs. Ershebet, angrily, "that we accepted the offer only because Akosh is rich, you are very much mistaken, I assure you! On the contrary, we wish he were of our own condition in life."

"Just so; exactly, my dear Mrs. Ershebet! If I had a daughter of my own, I'd never give her to my betters. It is true such gentlemen are enabled to introduce their ladies to all the enjoyments of life, enjoyments, too, which are quite out of the question in the humble paths of an easy, comfortable competence, of honourable poverty, if you like the term. They can surround them with splendour, luxury, and Heaven knows what. But as for real love, dearest Mrs. Ershebet, real love, as you and I understand it, flies from the glittering snares of a monied alliance!"

"Akosh is an exception. He adores Vilma."

"Of course he does! nothing more natural. Whom does he not adore! His heart is so full of sentiment. But you see, dearest Mrs. Ershebet, it's a strange thing, a peculiar thing, indeed, my dear madam, this very adoration is--what is it, after all? You kneel down, raise your hands, are transported, enraptured, and all that sort of thing; and when you've done with your prayer, you get up, and go your way. That's adoration, madam."

"No, sir!" said Mrs. Tengelyi, firing up; "I know Akosh! I respect him! I would never have promised him my daughter's hand, if I had doubted his honour."

"Madam, I respect you for respecting Akosh; on my word, I do. He's the best, the most honourable of gentlemen, though I say it, who ought not to say it, because I'm his friend. If he were my own son, I couldn't like him better than I do. Who would quarrel with him for being excitable, and less constant in love than we old people would like to see young gentlemen? You see, dearest Mrs. Ershebet, it is not just, it is not fair, to ask that kind of thing of a young gentleman of Mr. Rety's station."

"But I do ask it!" protested Mrs. Tengelyi. "I give him my daughter; and I have a right to ask----"

"Not an impossibility, I trust!" said Mr. Catspaw, with a smile. "If Akosh were of our own standing in society, your wish to monopolise him would be natural; but in the higher spheres of life such a desire is perfectly ridiculous. What would the world say, if a gentleman of his rank were to confine his attentions to his lady!"

"I trust you do not insinuate any thing disreputable against Akosh----"

"Disreputable? No; indeed not! He has some mistresses; but----"

"Mistresses!" screamed Mrs. Tengelyi.

"Well! and what of that?"

"What, indeed!" cried Mrs. Tengelyi, utterly forgetful of who it was, to whom she spoke. "If he were capable of having but one mistress, now that he has told my daughter, at least a hundred times, that he loves her alone, why it were infamous, despicable,----"

"But I assure you it is wrong to attach any importance to that kind of thing!"

"But I do! Rather than permit such doings----"

"My dear, good Mrs. Ershebet," whispered the attorney, drawing still closer to her; "I know your views of life; and, as your friend and sincere well-wisher, I feel bound to express my opinion that Akosh will never be what you expect him to be. He is a young gentleman of great talents, of energy, hot temper, business habits; he is all that, and more; but he is neither faithful nor constant in love. If you desire a constant son-in-law," he added, seizing her hand, "I can tell you of one."

Mrs. Tengelyi looked at him in hopeless bewilderment.

"Yes, dearest Mrs. Ershebet!" continued Mr. Catspaw, with increasing pathos; "I know a man of tried constancy, of unbounded devotion! a man, indeed, who cannot vie with Akosh in splendour, but in whose arms Vilma is sure to find that tranquil happiness whose value she knows so well how to appreciate. I, madam,--I am ready to take young Rety's place!"

"You, Mr. Catspaw!" cried Mrs. Ershebet, holding up her hands.

"Why not?" said the good man, brimful of kindness. "I am not quite the boy I was when I proposed for you; but I'm not an old man, eh? I am a man in the prime of life, a man of substance, dear Ershebet. What I offer is more than a competence. I've a hundred and fifty thousand florins, if I have a penny. If Vilma marries me, there will be no more questioning about Tengelyi's nobility; indeed, the Retys would be happy to make me a handsome cession of land. And as for that little affair with Akosh, you know I am by far too sensible and indulgent----"

While he was engaged in enumerating the advantages of an alliance between him and Vilma, the attorney had neglected to watch Mrs. Tengelyi's features, and to mark the unmistakeable expression of scorn and disgust which they bore. He was not, therefore, at all prepared for the scene which ensued, when the insulted mother rose and told him to leave the house instantly. He would have spoken, explained, excused himself, and what not! but Mrs. Tengelyi would not allow him to speak, and, to make bad worse, the door opened at this very critical moment, and Tengelyi entered the room.

"What do you want here?" said the notary, with an awful frown.

Mrs. Ershebet cut off the attorney's reply by a circumstantial account of Mr. Catspaw's proposal, in the course of which she commented on that worthy gentleman's behaviour in severe and, indeed, pungent terms.

"Be off! and never again dare to show your impudent face in my house!" said the notary, in reply to Mr. Catspaw's offer; but that gentleman, who, on seeing the notary, had expected no less than that the latter would assault him on the spot, was misled by this seeming moderation. He thought it a duty he owed to himself to make the best of so favourable an opportunity, and launching forth into protestations of his unlimited friendship for the Tengelyi family, he was just in the act of venting his admiration and love of the notary, when the latter addressed him very unceremoniously,--

"Get out, sir! If you don't, I'll kick you!"

"But, sir, please to give me a moment's hearing! Indeed, sir, this is not the way you ought to treat my offer! If Vilma----"

"Don't presume to mention her, you miscreant!" cried Mr. Tengelyi. "_You_ my daughter's husband? You!--a robber, a thief?"

The noise of the altercation brought Vilma and the Liptaka into the room, and the passers-by in the street stopped at the window and listened. Mr. Catspaw was of opinion that the presence of so many witnesses would prevent the notary from proceeding to acts of bodily violence; and, moreover, he was aware that his dignity would not allow him to submit to Tengelyi's insulting language. To talk big was not only safe, but prudent.

"This is too bad!" screamed he. "I'll make you repent it, sir!"

"Repent it?" shouted Tengelyi.

"Yes, repent it, if you please, my dear notary! Perhaps you are not aware that you are not a nobleman?"

"Reptile! dost thou dare to remind me of thy villany?" cried the notary, raising his stick, in spite of the endeavours of his wife and daughter, who sought to restrain him.

"Though I condescend to propose for your daughter, you ought not to forget the difference between your rank and mine!"

"It's the difference between an honest man and a rascal!" cried Tengelyi, still struggling to disengage his arm from the grasp of Mrs. Ershebet.

Mr. Catspaw saw clearly that the delay of another minute would prove dangerous. He retreated, and reached the door just when Tengelyi, whose fury brooked no restraint, broke from those who held him, and rushed in pursuit of him.