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A Hungarian Nabob: A Romance, a novel by Maurus Jokai |
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Chapter 12. The House-Warming |
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_ CHAPTER XII. THE HOUSE-WARMING Carriage after carriage rumbled into the courtyard of Karpathy Castle. Every sort and kind of four-wheeled conveyance was visible that day within the gates of the crowded mansion. There seemed to be no end to the continuous flow of guests, male and female, and Madame Karpathy won and captivated every heart. Of course she had the immense advantage of knowing them all beforehand, of knowing their weak and their strong points, their virtues and vices; but it is due to her to add that she had learnt her lesson excellently well, and turned it to the best advantage. She received Count Szepkiesdy with all the grave respect due to the most honourable of patriots, and assured him that she had long since learnt to admire him as a great orator and a noble-minded man. The Count inwardly cursed and swore at meeting with some one who regarded him as a hero. To Count Gregory Erdey she extended a smiling salutation from afar, which he requited by saluting her with his hat in one hand and his wig in another, which provoked a roar of Homeric laughter from the assembled guests. The young buffoon had had his head clean shaved in order that his hair might grow all the stronger, so that his bald pate quite scared the weak-nerved members of the company. The young housewife curtsied low in humble silence before the _Foispan_ Count Sarosdy and his wife, whereby she greatly pleased that aristocratic patriot. He admitted that middle-class girls are not so bad when they have been brought up in gentlemen's families. And Fanny completely won the favour of his consort by impressing upon her servants to be constantly in attendance on her ladyship, and fulfil all her wishes; for, although Countess Sarosdy had brought two of her own maids with her, she did not consider them sufficient. On the arrival of the Countess Kereszty, Fanny joyfully rushed forward, and kissed her hand before she could prevent it; whereupon the amazonian dame, first of all, seized her with both her muscular arms, and held her at arm's length, at the same time wrinkling her thick black eyebrows as if to scrutinize her the better, and then drew her towards her, patting her on the back all the time, and exclaiming in her bass-viol-like voice, "We like each other, my little sister; we like each other, eh?" Yes, there could be no doubt about it, Fanny was a success. Her beauty won the hearts of the gentlemen, and her correct deportment the good opinions of the ladies. Shortly afterwards the dinner-bell rang, and the company, with a great clatter and still greater good-humour, occupied the tables, from a description of which I conscientiously abstain--firstly and lastly because such things as dinner-tables are only diverting _in natura_, but infinitely tiresome in books. There was all the wealth, pomp, splendour and profusion that the occasion and the reputation of the Nabob demanded; there was everything procurable for man's enjoyment, from the native products of Hungarian cookery to the masterly creations of French gastronomic art, and of wines every sort imaginable. The dinner lasted far into the night, and towards the end of it the company began to grow uproarious. The great patriot, as usual, related his lubricous, equivocal anecdotes without troubling himself very much as to whether ladies were present or not. He was wont to say _Castis sunt omnia casta_, "To the pure all things are pure," and whoever blushed had, no doubt, a good reason for blushing, and was therefore corrupt enough already. The ladies, however, pretended not to hear, and began conversing with their neighbours without taking any notice of the hoarse laughter of the young bucks, who held it a point of honour to applaud the witticisms of the great patriot. Nevertheless every one did his best to enjoy himself as much as possible. And who so happy as the Nabob? It occurred to him that, scarce a year ago, he had sat in the same place where he was sitting now, and had seen a horrible sight; and now he saw by his side a young and enchanting wife, and around him a merry lively host of guests with cheerful, smiling faces. And now from the adjoining chamber resounded, alternately grave and gay, the notes of the Bihari fiddlers; one or two of the young wags thereupon pushed their chairs away, went out among the gipsies, and fell a dancing with each other. The more loquacious of the patriots who remained behind began drinking the health of every fellow-guest present, in turn, especially toasting the host and hostess; thence proceeding to drink to the success of all manner of abstract objects, such as social unions, counties and colleges, and other contemporary institutions. Count Szepkiesdy made a long speech, into which he very neatly interwove every applauded phrase which he had uttered during the last twelve months at public assemblies. There were some present who had heard this speech at least four times already, but this did not prevent anybody from cheering him vociferously: we know, of course, that a good thing cannot be repeated too often. Squire John himself was invincible as a toast-responder, and if I were not obliged in this particular to give the pre-eminence to an honoured lady, the amazonian Countess Kereszty, I should have said that, for witty sallies and the draining of bumpers, he was the hero of the evening. In any case he deserves peculiar praise for one thing: in the midst of all this talking and toasting he it was who first of all bethought him of raising his glass in honour of two young men who were not actually present--to wit Count Stephen and Count Rudolf; and he so worthily extolled the superlative merits of these gentlemen, as to evoke an unprecedented burst of enthusiasm, the very ladies themselves seizing brimmers and clinking them with him. While every face was still beaming with delight, a lackey entered, and delivered a letter to Lady Szentirmay which a rapid runner had brought from Szentirma. Flora with a beating heart recognized her husband's writing on the cover, and she begged leave to retire and open it. This was the signal for release and departure, the whole company quitting the tables, and scattering in the adjoining rooms. Flora and Fanny flew off to their bedrooms unobserved, to read the precious letter in all peace and quietness; for Fanny, also, naturally wanted to know what was in the letter. The lady broke the seal with a hand that trembled for joy, and, after pressing the letter to her heart, read its contents, which were as follows:-- "To-morrow I shall be at Karpatfalva. There we shall meet. Rudolf. 1000." This "thousand" signified a thousand kisses. How delighted the beloved wife was! Again and again she kissed the place where her husband's name was written, as if to snatch beforehand at least a hundred of the consignment of kisses; and then she concealed it in her bosom, as if to preserve the remaining nine hundred till later on; then she drew it forth once more, and read it over again, as if she could not quite remember the whole contents of the letter, but must needs read it anew in order to understand it properly; and then she kissed it over and over again until, at last, she herself did not know how many kisses she had taken. And Fanny fully shared the joy of her friend, joy is so contagious. To-morrow Rudolf will arrive, and how nice it will then be for Flora! She will see the greatest joy that a loving heart can imagine, and will not be a bit jealous--no! she will rejoice in another's joy, rejoice in the happiness of her best friend, who possesses as her very own, so to speak, the man in whose honour every one has spoken so well and made such pretty speeches. And to-morrow he will be here; and, to make his wife happy till he comes, he has notified the day of his arrival. He does not come surreptitiously, unawares, like one who is jealous; but he lets her know of his coming beforehand, like one who is well assured of how greatly, how very greatly he is loved. Oh what a joy it will be even to look upon such happiness! The two ladies with radiantly happy faces returned to the company, which diverted itself till midnight, when every one retired to his own room. Squire John helped his guests to their repose with a musical accompaniment, the gipsy band proceeding from window to window and intoning beneath each one a sleep-compelling symphony. Finally, the last note died away, and everybody dozed off, and dreamed beautiful dreams. The hunters dreamt of foxes (there was to be a hunt on the morrow), the orators dreamt of assemblies, Mr. Malnay dreamt of parties, Lady Szentirmay dreamt of her husband, and Fanny dreamt of that beautiful smiling countenance she had been thinking of so often, and which looked at her so kindly with its eloquent blue eyes and spoke to her with such a wondrously sweet voice. It is permissible, of course, to dream of anything. * * * * * Well, to-morrow! _ |
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