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A Hungarian Nabob: A Romance, a novel by Maurus Jokai |
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Chapter 15. The Spy |
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_ CHAPTER XV. THE SPY And now we are in Mr. Kecskerey's quarters again. It would be a great mistake on our part to leave him out of sight. An individual like him, once seen, may not be forgotten. He was now living at Pest, where he had elegant chambers and all his old renown, carrying on his old business of amalgamating the various elements of society. It was still early, and the worthy man was not yet half dressed. When I say not yet half dressed, I mean the expression to be taken in the literal sense of the word. He was sitting in the middle of the room on a rich purple ottoman, enfolded in a red burnous, sucking away at a huge chibook, puffing smoke all round him, and contemplating himself in a large mirror exactly opposite to him. At the opposite end of the ottoman sat a huge orang-outang of about his own size, in a similarly charming position, wrapped in a similar burnous, also smoking a chibook, and regarding himself in the mirror. Scattered all about were heaps of scented _billet-doux_, verses, musical notes, and other perishable articles of the same sort. Round about the walls hung all kinds of select pictures, which would certainly have been very much ashamed if they could have seen each other. On the table, in a vase of genuine Herculanean bronze, were the visiting-cards of a number of notable men and women of the smartest set. The carpets were all woven by delicate feminine hands, and bore the figures of dogs, horses, and huntsmen. The tapestried walls revealed the presence of small hidden doors, and the windows were covered by double curtains close drawn. In the antechamber outside, a small negro groom was scratching his ear for sheer _ennui_. He had orders not to admit any gentleman visitor till after twelve o'clock, from which he drew the temerarious conclusion that he was free to admit ladies up to that hour. Despite this prohibition, however, it chanced that Jussuf, in reply to a determined pull at the bell, did admit a gentleman; and Mr. Kecskerey heard the nigger lad talking in his Kaffir tongue to the new arrival, and was furious with him in consequence. "Who is it, Jussuf?" cried Mr. Kecskerey, in such a sharp voice that the baboon on the sofa behind his back began to hiss for fright. By way of answer the new arrival himself rushed through the door. "These privileged friends of mine are vastly impertinent," murmured Mr. Kecskerey to himself, as he perceived the intruder in the doorway; and it seemed to give him great satisfaction when the visitor fell back at the sight of his peculiar costume. But a moment later he recognized who it was, and, with a determined effort at gaiety, exclaimed, stretching out his long dry hand towards him-- "Ah, Abellino! 'tis you, eh? We fancied you had mediatized yourself in India. Come and sit down by me. Have you brought back with you some of those famous pastilles which you mentioned in your genial letters?" "Go to the devil, and take your baboon with you," cursed the new arrival. "You resemble one another so closely that I did not know which was the master of the house." "Ah, this monkey belongs to the species most fashionable at the Egyptian court. Besides, my baboon is under an obligation to be polite. Joko, show your good breeding by giving a pipe to my guest." Joko did as he was told, and brought the pipe. "And now sit down by me and make yourself comfortable," continued Kecskerey. "Jussuf, fill my guest's pipe for him. I regret I cannot oblige you with a narghilly." Abellino took off the huge mantle which covered his shoulders, sat down face to face with Mr. Kecskerey, and amused himself in the mean time by throwing paper pellets at the baboon. "And what, then, has brought you back into this realm, my hero, my troubadour?" inquired Mr. Kecskerey. "Some love-adventure, some notable affair, I'll be bound. I'll dare to guess that you have abducted some Hindu vestal from Budhur?" "Answer me first of all; is there still any rumour abroad about my former affair?" Kecskerey made an angry grimace. "My dear friend," said he, "you ask too much of me. You seem to expect that folks will talk of nothing but your beggarly duel for a whole twelve-month. Why, it is as much forgotten as if it had never been. Look now! you killed Fennimore, and Fennimore had a younger brother who by his death succeeded to the family estates. They asked him a little time ago why he did not pursue the action brought against you. 'I am not so mad,' said he, 'as to take action against my benefactor.' You can meet him at my place this very evening. He is a much finer fellow than his brother, and he'll be very glad to see you." "The luck's on my side then, but let us talk of other things. It looks as if Pest were now becoming the nest of the elegant world, or you would not have established yourself in it. What are you doing here?" "We are spreading civilization. It is a somewhat poorer diversion than spending the season at Paris, but a few Hungarian magnates have taken it into their heads to live henceforth at Pest, and for their sake others, and for these others' sake others still have pitched their tents in this little town, in which there is as much pleasure as you'll find at London, and as many illusions as you'll find anywhere." "That's all right. And what do you know about the Karpathys?" Mr. Kecskerey blew himself out haughtily like a frog, and grunted in a strangulated sort of voice, "My friend, for what do you take me, pray? Am I your spy, that I should go ferreting into family secrets in order to betray them to you? What sort of an opinion can you have of me?" Abellino, with a feeling of satisfaction, launched the remainder of the crumpled-up visiting-cards in his fist at Joko's head. He knew the manners and customs of Mr. Kecskerey thoroughly. He was wont to fling back every dishonourable commission and query with the utmost indignation, into the face of their proposer, but he executed them all the same, and reported accordingly. "What business is it of mine what the Karpathys are doing? The world says, however, that Madame Karpathy has a fresh lover every day. At one time 'tis Count Erdey, at another 'tis Mike Kis. It says, too, that old Squire John himself invites his cronies to Karpatfalva, and is quite delighted if his wife finds any among them worthy to be loved. He lets her go visiting at the neighbouring villages with Mike Kis hundreds of times, and much more is said to the same effect. But what has it all got to do with me? I think as little of such things as of the dreams of my baboon." After this, Kecskerey, with the assistance of his little negro servant, slowly proceeded with his dressing. "Well, my dear friend," he resumed after a while, "so you have come back from India, eh? I suppose you'll be a fixture in our little circle now, and will honour my assemblies with your distinguished presence?" "I am much obliged to you for the invitation, but I am no longer rich enough to take part in them. Griffard refuses to lend me another sou, and I am obliged to learn the science of economy like any other Philistine." "Ah, that's a pity for you, for you cannot find it very amusing. You would do more wisely if you made it up with your uncle." "I would rather be a bandit than a beggar." "Take care you don't fall into a snare." "What snare can you possibly imagine?" "Your uncle is as much enamoured of his wife as ever, or I am greatly mistaken." "I rather incline to think that some one else may be enamoured of her." "That would be somewhat singular." "Why should you think so?" "That old man has completely changed. He looks twenty years younger; one scarcely recognizes him. He leads a regular life, and no doubt his doctors are clever. Besides, it is a tradition in your family that the ladies find the gentlemen amiable even in advanced old age. The day that I encountered your kinswoman at Szolnok, I thought she looked happier and more contented than I had ever seen her before." "Hell and devils!" exclaimed Abellino, mad with rage. "What can be the reason why this woman is so happy and contented? Her husband is incapable, I'll swear, of making her so. There's falsehood, there's fraud somehow." "There _may_ be falsehood and fraud, my friend," replied Kecskerey, coolly clasping one of his knees with both his hands, and swaying himself to and fro in a rocking-chair. "If I could only prove that that woman was in love with some one; if any one were able to show the world in the clearest, the most sensational manner that she had secret relations with anybody----" "But, as a member of the family, that would naturally bring disgrace upon you also." "They are playing a game against me." "It may be so. The old man is quite capable of overlooking his wife's infidelity in order to do you out of the inheritance." "But it cannot be, it cannot be! Our laws would not allow such a scandal." Kecskerey burst out laughing. "My friend, if our laws were disposed to make very conscientious investigations concerning the proper descent of all our great families, endless confusion would arise in the making out of our family trees." "But I tell you I will not allow a downtrodden beggar-woman to force her way into an illustrious family, and rob the rightful heirs of their inheritance by saddling her decrepit husband with brats that are the fruit of her base amours." At these words Kecskerey laughed louder than ever. "Since your return you have become quite a moral man, I see. You would have been glad to have had one of these same base-born brats yourself a year ago." "Joking apart, my friend, you see that I am a ruined man, a man whom infernal intrigues have sent to the devil. If what I fear really happens, I shall blow my brains out. I must find out at any price something that will compromise Madame Karpathy before the law, and if something of the sort cannot be discovered, it must be invented." Kecskerey pulled a wry face. "My dear friend, I know not why you say such things to me. Do I look like a person competent to give advice in such matters? It is a serious business, I assure you. I am very sorry, but you must do what you want yourself. The Karpathys will reside here this winter. Do as you please, corrupt their servants, set your creatures to their work, and get them to lead the young woman astray and then betray her; plant your spies about her, watch every step she takes, and put the affair in the hands of sharp practitioners; but leave me in peace, I am a gentleman, I will _not_ be a spy, or a well-feed Mephistopheles, or a hired Cicisbeo." So the worthy gentleman hastened to wash from off him the least suspicion of such a shady transaction, but nevertheless he showed Abellino what to do. He protested against every attempt to draw an opinion from him, but for all that he did his best to give an exhaustive answer. Abellino was very well pleased with him. New projects began to spring up in his brain; he took up his hat and bade his friend a grateful adieu, and so they parted with mutual assurances of a speedy _au revoir_. _ |
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