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Manasseh: A Romance of Transylvania, a novel by Maurus Jokai |
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Chapter 3. An Intruder Expelled |
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_ CHAPTER III. AN INTRUDER EXPELLED Meanwhile the train had reached another station, a junction where a halt was made for refreshments, pending the arrival of a connecting train. The advocate was hungry, and accordingly made his way to the dining-room, being first warned by his companion to use despatch, as otherwise, on returning to the ladies, he might find his compartment filled. "And what will you do meantime?" asked Gabriel. "I have my sketch-book with me," replied Manasseh, "and I am going to draw the view from my perch up here." "Ah, I did not know you were an artist." "Yes, I am an artist, and nothing more." Upon the arrival of the connecting train and the ensuing scramble for seats, the ladies of our little party felt some anxiety lest their privacy should be rudely broken in upon by unwelcome strangers. Princess Cagliari bent forward and looked down the platform, but immediately drew back again. Too late, however; she had been seen; and a moment afterward a young man, of sleek and comely appearance, immaculately dressed, and carrying in one hand a small cane whose peculiar head betrayed the fact that it concealed a rapier, sprang lightly on the foot-board and entered the compartment. "Ah, what an unexpected pleasure, Princess!" he exclaimed by way of greeting, lifting his hat and appropriating the corner seat opposite her. "Pardon me," said Blanka, "but that seat is engaged. The gentleman who is with us--" "Why, then, didn't he leave something--coat, or umbrella, or hand-bag--in proof of his claim to the seat?" interrupted the intruder. "The seat is now mine by railway usage, and I cannot deny myself the pleasure of sitting opposite you, my dear princess." Blanka controlled her indignation as best she could, but her companion felt called upon to come to her aid with an energetic remonstrance. "Mr. Vajdar," said she, severely, "you should know what is expected of a gentleman in his conduct toward a lady. You are well aware that the princess cannot endure your presence, nor are you ignorant of the reason." The handsome young man drew a gilt pasteboard box from his side pocket, removed the cover, and offered the contents to the last speaker. "Madam Dormandy, you are fond of sweets. Permit me to solicit your acceptance of these caramels. They are freshly made, and are really excellent." But Madam Dormandy turned her back disdainfully on the peace-offering and looked anxiously out of the window. "Where can Mr. Zimandy be all this time?" she murmured, impatiently. "How long will you continue to dog my steps?" asked the princess, addressing the intruder in a voice that trembled with passion. "Only to the grave," was the smiling reply; "there we shall separate--you to enter the gates of paradise, where I despair of gaining admission." "But what reason have you for wishing my ruin?" "Because you yourself will have it so. Have I ever made any secret of my designs or of my motives?" "Are you determined to make me leave this compartment?" "You would gain nothing by so doing," was Vajdar's cool retort. "I could not possibly forego the pleasure of your company, in whatever way you might choose to continue your journey." "What is your purpose in all this?" demanded Blanka. "To make you either as happy as a man can make a woman, or as wretched as only the devil himself can render a human being." "I defy you to do either." "Futile defiance! The game is in my hands, and I can make you as one buried alive." "God will never allow such an iniquity!" cried the princess. "Ah, my dear madam, you forget that we are on our way to Rome, where there are churches by the score, but no God." Blanka shuddered in spite of herself, and drew her shawl more closely about her, while her foe crossed one leg over the other and smiled self-complacently. The warning cry "_partenza!_" sounded along the platform, and the ladies' escort came running in alarm from the dining-room and sought his compartment. "Have I your seat, sir?" coolly inquired Benjamin Vajdar of the man who had so lately promised to wring his neck. "Oh, no, certainly not," mumbled the doughty advocate, in considerable surprise and confusion, as he caught his breath and meekly looked around for a vacant place. A lightning-flash from the blond beauty's eyes and a mocking smile from the dandy rewarded this courteous forbearance. But the mocking smile changed the next instant to a sudden expression of disquiet, if not of actual fear. Manasseh Adorjan stood in the doorway, and Blanka noted a swift interchange of glances between the young men, like the flashing of two drawn swords. "That place is already engaged, sir," said Manasseh, quietly. Benjamin Vajdar's face flushed quickly, and then as suddenly paled. In his eyes one could have read rage, hate, and fear, and his right hand clutched the head of his cane convulsively, as if about to draw the weapon therein concealed. But Manasseh still stood regarding him fixedly, and the intruder yielded without a word. Taking up his satchel, he left the compartment. The whole scene had occupied but a moment. What was it that gave one of these men such power over the other, like that of a lion-tamer over his charge? Manasseh himself took the vacated seat, without offering it to the advocate, and sat looking out of the window as long as Vajdar was in sight. At length the train started, and as it soon entered on a stretch of monotonous, waste territory, Blanka yielded to the drowsy lullaby of the smoothly rolling wheels, and fell asleep. Once or twice she half opened her eyes and was vaguely conscious that the young stranger opposite her was drawing something in the sketch-book that lay open on his knee. She pushed her veil still farther back from face and brow, hardly aware what she was doing, and again fell asleep. _ |
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