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The Day of Wrath, a novel by Maurus Jokai |
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Chapter 15. Oil Upon The Waters |
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_ CHAPTER XV. OIL UPON THE WATERS The whole of the broad street was entirely covered with caps. It was impossible to see anything but caps. Here and there a scythe or a pitchfork projected from the midst of the throng, but the larger portion of the mob was unarmed, unless slender canes, of which there were a great number, be accounted weapons. Here and there in the midst of the surging crowd might be distinguished sundry honest citizens still in plain clothes indeed, but carrying along with them bayonetted muskets, thereby inspiring the rabble with peculiar valour, the common people always imagining in such cases that the national guard with its bayonets is quite equal to the military. "Halt!" a voice rung out in front of the crowding mass. At the sound of that voice the hubbub for an instant grew still. The mob stopped short. "Load your muskets!" The soldiers, like a single, many-handed machine, instantly brought down their weapons to their sides with a clash, and the clatter of the loading-sticks in the barrels of the muskets was distinctly audible. Then there was another clatter, and every musket was instantly pointed. The rioters began to look at one another, and those in front envied the position of those in the rear, who could freely use their lungs without the slightest risk. And now the General rode along in front of the noisy mob and shouted to them in a hard, stern voice: "What do you want? What is the matter with you? Why are you obstructing the street?" The fellows kept elbowing each other forward, and, at last, one of them exclaimed: "Here is Master Matthias! Let Master Matthias speak!" "Bravo, Master Matthias!" And suddenly from the midst of the mob arose the form of a citizen in a leather apron, with a shako on his head, and a musket with a bayonet attached thereto in his hand. He was passed along over the heads of the crowd, from shoulder to shoulder, and finally planted on his feet right in front of the General. This was Master Matthias. Even if his hands, the knuckles whereof were unwashably embalmed with pitch, had not of themselves betrayed the fact, the awl hanging beside his leather apron, and evidently left there by accident, would have declared that the individual in question belonged to that estimable section of the community whose business in life it is to provide humanity with corns. His moustache was twisted with seven-and-seventy ringlets, and he had the habit every time he opened his mouth of violently shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders by way of making his words the more emphatic. Master Matthias was a famous orator of the market-place, a toast-master of the city guilds, a finished wedding-feast chairman, and a recognised champion swine-slayer, he was consequently renowned throughout the town. Nor was he the least afraid of the town, or the county either, or even of the General himself, as he now intended to show him. So there he stood manfully in front of Vértessy, twirling his crooked moustache from end to end, and banging his musket on the ground as violently as if he meant to smash its butt end to pieces. Then he cleared his throat, and in a hoarsely strident voice gave expression to the following sentiments: "My Lord General, whereas it has happened, so to speak, that our human masses in this comitavus[18] have attained to extraordinary dimensions, and inasmuch as the honourable imposteratus[19] has decided in consequence thereof that this is not a right state of things at all, far from it, and right they are too, say I, for the members of the city guilds have far too many qualifications; but, on the other hand, they are quite wrong, inasmuch as our journeymen are in countlessly small number therein, therefore we have resolved that as everyone is talking about it, so it must be, and not otherwise. For great is the desire of the enemy to make an impulse in this kingdom. Moreover, as for the avoidance and confirmation thereof, the plenipotentiaries have furthermore resolved that the 'pothecaries are concocting a certain miasma, by which decree we men are to be kept within salutary boundaries. Such finally being the case, and the people having cognisance thereof, the secular inhabitants of the neighbouring districts and sequestrations have arisen, and want to know what it is all about and wherefore. I myself am not able to say a word there anent, inasmuch as I wish not to apprehend it; but so much I can say for certain, that one of my journeymen on his way to the fair had his feet twisted double with cramp, and I know what I know. If, therefore, my Lord General so wishes it, and considers it seasonable that men for the common good of the kingdom should make a revolution, therefore we most humbly and respectfully petition for the same. And we are not fools either." [Footnote 18: _I.e._, "Comitatus" county.] [Footnote 19: _I.e._, "Compossessoratus," a local committee of landed proprietors for assessing taxation, &c.] During this brilliant and particularly lucid harangue, the bolder masses of the mob had pushed right forward, and it seemed highly probable that within the next few moments the arguments of the great popular orator would be emphasized by fist-law. Vértessy, on the other hand, quite apart from general feelings of humanity and patriotism, had still stronger reason for avoiding tumult and bloodshed. At that very moment his sick wife lay at the threshold of death. A mere volley, a single hour of street-fighting, might perhaps be the death of her. In this agonising situation a horseman was seen approaching from the opposite side of the road. Only with the utmost difficulty could he force his way through the densely packed mob. Indeed, they would not have stirred a stump had he not kept on waving in his hand a piece of paper, and shouting incessantly that this was a proclamation addressed to the people, and he wanted to speak with their leader. "Who is the worthy leader of these patriots?" he exclaimed. Vértessy recognised in the horseman that mysterious Pole whom the condemned man could not recollect, and by this time he was a trifle suspicious of the fellow himself. After all, he began to think, there might be some coherency in the words of the prisoner, though only an hour ago he had looked upon them as the mere ravings of a lunatic. "Where is the leader of the people?" cried Kamienszka, urging on the sweating horse towards the nearest open space. Master Matthias proudly pointed to the warm swelling bosom which lay beneath his leather apron, by way of indicating that he was the man. With an air of pathetic dignity Kamienszka handed to the worthy patriot the proclamation of Numa Pompilius, in which that worthy confided to the tailors, cobblers, and bakers of the city the honourable task of making, stitching, and baking some thousands of boots, hose, and rolls for headquarters to be delivered immediately. "What are you doing?" cried the General in French. "At the very first movement I shall scatter these men." "I am pouring oil upon the waters," replied the young horseman in the same language. "Within an hour every man of them will go home." Master Matthias seized the document with both hands, pressed his musket betwixt his knees, and read the proclamation attentively from beginning to end. The impression it made upon him could be imagined from the conduct of his moustache, which gradually lost its martial fierceness, and at last hung meekly down. "Six thousand pairs of boots--whew!" Meantime, a skinny fellow-citizen, buttoned up to the chin, kept on stretching his scraggy neck a monstrous distance across the heads of three rows of other burghers standing in front of him, with his eyes glued all the time upon the distant document in Master Matthias' hands. This was Master Csihos, known by the token over his shop as a member of the honourable guild of tailors. "There it is!--read it for yourself!" cried Master Matthias. The long arm stretched all the way across three rows of fellow-citizens standing in front of it, and a little group of tailors having put their heads together around the master-tailor, he read out the proclamation in a loud voice. "Three thousand pairs of trousers!" The head of the guild of bakers had not heard all that had been said, but the words "bread" and "rolls" had tickled his ears uncomfortably. The fatal proclamation had in a few moments made the round of the assembly, gradually disappearing among the back rows of the mob. And, wherever it passed, it left behind it long faces and gaping, speechless mouths; the tumult subsided into a low murmur and an uneasy whispering. Master Matthias, Master Csihos, and the chief of the Guild of Bakers held counsel together cheek by jowl. Those in the rear began to edge away along the wall as if it was no concern of theirs. At last Master Matthias leaned his musket against the back of a friend, took off his cap, smoothed out his moustache, and approached the General with a very dubious expression of countenance, at the same time violently scratching the back of his neck. "Your pardon, my Lord General!" cried he, "possibly your honour did not quite understand me. Although I never said that things were this or that; neither did I mean the other thing, whether more or less. Nevertheless, and be this as it may, and without prejudice, I am well aware, as also are all my friends, that it is not for us to sit in judgment on the county tribunals or on you, my Lord General--very much, the other way in fact; and if impudent disturbers of the public peace are carrying on their games amongst us, such are to be regarded as the dregs of humanity, and we on the contrary see ourselves obliged to turn to the worshipful county magistrates and to your honour that ye may deign to have these evil-minded rioters who approach our peaceful towns with firearms and pitchforks kept far away therefrom, whereunto we also and the trainbands of this town volunteer our services, giving it to be and understood that, at my Lord General's command, we shall be found ready to pour out our life-blood in defence of our country, our town, our county, and our prince. To the gallows say I, with all who demand of us six thousand pairs of boots! Your poor humble servant!" Vértessy could not forbear from quietly smiling at this discreet coat-turning rhetoric. With his drawn sword he motioned to his soldiers to lower their weapons, and return to the barracks, simply leaving the usual sentries at their posts. The noisy assembly then gave one long cheer for the General, and after threatening every sort of distant object with their sticks and clenched fists, tumultously dispersed. Kamienszka, after the odd dispersal of the rioters, trotted alongside the General into the courtyard of the barracks, where they both dismounted and hastened into the waiting room. Each of them had something urgent to say to the other which could not be expressed in public. "Sir," the General hastened to say, he was determined to have the first word--"whoever you are, you have rendered me a very important service which I hope to be able to repay." "I come from the midst of danger, General," replied the heroic lady very quickly, like one anxious to economize his moments and count his words; "a dangerous rebellion has broken out in the midst of the county, and by mere accident I have got the leading strings of it in my hands. For a moment, however, I ran the risk of being strung up myself. The visitation of this strange epidemic has afforded a band of desperate fanatics with the opportunity of accomplishing a long-cherished design. Here is the proclamation which in a few days will fly over the whole realm." The General read through the document handed to him with the utmost astonishment. "Love of loot, revenge, popular stupidity, will be powerful allies in such a frantic enterprise, which, if it but gain the upper hand, will, in a few weeks, change the whole appearance of the map of Europe. At present the flame is but a tiny one. It has only burst forth in a few villages. To-night they are going to attack the Castle of Hétfalu. That will be the beginning of it." The General's face quivered. So the words of the condemned man had been true! "There they will murder both master and servants. Murdered they must be in order that the participators in the outbreak may find retreat impossible. This will be the beginning of a desperate struggle." The General rang a bell. He whispered a few words in the ear of the adjutant who answered the summons, and then sat down and began writing very rapidly, at the same time beckoning to Kamienszka to go on. "General, at present the conflagration may be stamped out by a single effort. A bold hand, which does not shrink from a bad burn, may cover up the mouth of the volcano if instant action be taken. But not a day, not an hour, not a moment, should be lost. The thing must be done at once. In a day, an hour, a moment, things might happen which could never be made good again." A rattle of chains was audible at the door, two sentries were bringing in the prisoner, behind them came the provost-martial. The General, who never ceased writing, thus addressed him: "Young man! have those chains taken off your hands, ask my adjutant for a sword, and gird it on!" Young Hétfalusy opened his eyes wide with astonishment. He allowed them to take the chains off his hands, and gird a sword to his side, and did not at once observe that a couple of yards away from him stood a strange youth, who found it very hard not to burst into tears, and fall upon his neck at the sight of him, so miserable did he look. The General had at last finished his correspondence, and gave his whole attention to young Hétfalusy. "Now listen patiently to all that I am going to say. Take these letters, choose the best horse from my stables, and hasten to the leaders of the military cordons one after the other. Each one of them will place at the disposal of the captain accompanying you one half of his effective strength. As soon as you have gathered together half a battalion, hasten with them to Hétfalu, as to the rest that will be provided for by written instructions. Your own heart will tell you what you ought to do. You are going to rescue and defend your family. There the hand of God will be over you. If it please Him to carry your sentence into execution His will be done, if you return alive the past shall be forgotten." The youth did not know what to answer, his voice died away in his throat. All he could do was to sink down in silence by the General's side, press his hand to his lips, and shed tears. "Get up, get up, and be off! You have not to thank me for this. You must thank God and this worthy gentleman who has dared so much for your sake." Only then did the youth cast a glance upon Kamienszka, and it seemed to him as if he dimly saw, conjured up before him, through the misty veil of his tears, the vision of a form from other days. The Polish lady hastened up to him, pressed his hand, and whispered in his ear: "Not a word now! We shall have plenty of time presently." "Then you _do_ know each other?" said Vértessy. "What could the youth be dreaming of to deny his friend a little while ago?" And with that he gave the heroine's hand a vigorous grip, for he had every reason to still call her a man. "Sir," said he, "I fancy I am not making you a bad offer if I ask you to come and have a hasty breakfast with me and your young friend, and then choose one of my horses and buckle on one of my swords. You are not the man I take you for if you do not feel inclined to follow your comrade and share his danger." Hétfalusy, with an expression of alarm, would have interrupted him; but the girl thrust him aside, and her flashing eyes seemed to impose silence upon him. "Thank you, General," she manfully replied. "I anticipated that offer, and I accept it. As for our breakfast we can have that in our saddles. We have no time to stay." "You are right," said Vértessy, squeezing the soft downy hand whose steel-like muscles did not betray the woman, "you must hasten. This mad rebellion must be overthrown as rapidly as it has arisen. Should the movement extend to other parts of the county you will not find me unprepared." Meanwhile the steeds were led out below the gate. The attendant captain rushed out, half dressed, bringing a sword with him for Kamienszka, which she hastily buckled on like a man. The General escorted them down to the horses, and the three cavaliers swung themselves into their saddles. Vértessy pressed once more the heroine's hand, and said to her with soldierly frankness: "Mr. Kamienszki, I have a great regard for you!" "Not Kamienszki but Kamienszka!" murmured the lady softly, and with that she spurred her horse and galloped after her comrades. And now for the first time a light dawned in Vértessy's mind, and he understood it all. "A marvellous woman!" he muttered, gazing after her till the distance hid her from his eyes. The streets were quite quiet, nobody was about, the General's own heart was afflicted by the stillness. A beneficent calm, so often the reaction from extreme excitement, came over him. And now he had time to hasten back to the peaceful house opposite. His heart beat so violently with joyful anticipation, the pulses of his hands and temples throbbed so tumultuously as he strode through the quiet rooms. In the ante-chamber he encountered the doctor, who advanced towards him with a smile and stretched out his hand. "You have a joyful house now," said he. "What do you mean?" exclaimed Vértessy, stammering with delight; he knew very well, all the time, what the doctor meant. "A wee, wee cherub has arrived," whispered the doctor--"and 'tis a boy cherub too," he added with a still broader smile. The next moment Vértessy was kneeling down before his wife, and pressing her hands hundreds and hundreds of times to his burning lips. And the wife, with a sweet and blissful smile, looked down upon her husband like one of those whom the prayers of their beloved have called back from the world beyond the grave. "With God there is mercy!" was all that she could say. _ |
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