Read Ebook: The Yellow Rose by J Kai M R Danford Beatrice Translator

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Ebook has 459 lines and 17901 words, and 10 pages

"Well, S?ndor," he said, as soon as the thanks had been got over, "I have seen many famous actors on the stage, but never one who played the bety?r as you did!"

"I did right, didn't I?" asked the lad gravely.

"Yes, indeed, you are an honourable fellow. But say a kind word to the girl if you meet her. Poor thing, she never meant to do such wrong."

"I am not angry with her. May God bless you, sir, for your great goodness."

As he stepped out on to the verandah, the girl stopped him, and seized his hand.

"S?ndor, what have you done? Sent your soul to perdition, sworn falsely, told a lying tale, all to set me free! You have denied ever having loved me, that my body may escape the lash, and my slender neck the blow that would sever it. Why have you done this?"

"That is my affair. This much I will tell you; from henceforth, one of us two I must hate and despise. Do not cry, you are not that one! I dare no longer look in your eyes, because I see myself reflected there, and I am worth no more than the broken button that is coming off my waistcoat. God bless you."

With that he untied his horse from the acacia, sprang on to it, and dashed off into the puszta.

The girl gazed and gazed after him, till her sight grew dim from tears. Then she sought till she found the broken button he had cast on the floor. This she placed next her heart.

It happened just as the overseer had predicted. When the herd reached the Polg?r ferry it was impossible to cross. The Theiss, the Saj?, the Hern?d, all were in flood. The water touched the planking of the foot-bridge. The ferry-boat had been hauled up, and moored to the willows on the bank. Great trees, torn up by their roots, were coming down on the turbulent dirty flood; and flocks of wild ducks, divers, and cormorants were disporting themselves on the waters, fearless of the gun at such a time.

But that communication should be stopped was a dire misfortune, not only for the Duke's cattle, but much more so for all the market-goers from Debreczin and ?jv?ros, striving to reach the Onod fair. There stood their carts, out among the puddles, under the open sky, while their owners bewailed the bad luck in the one small drinking-room of the Polg?r ferry-house.

Ferko Lacza went off to buy hay for the herd, and purchased a whole stack. "For here we can sit kicking our heels for three days at the shortest!"

Now, by good luck, there was, among those bound for the market, a purveyor of cooked meat, with her enormous iron frying pan, and fresh pork, ready sliced. She found a ready sale for her wares, setting up a makeshift cook-shop in a hut constructed of maize stalks. Firewood she did not need to buy, the Theiss brought plenty. Wine the old innkeeper had, sharp, but good, since none better was to be got. Besides, every Hungarian carries his pipe, tobacco, and his bag of provisions when he gives his mind to travel.

So the time passed in forming new acquaintances. The Debreczin bootmaker and the tanner from Balmaz-?jv?ros were old friends, while the vendor of cloaks was universally addressed as "Daddy." The ginger-bread baker, who thought himself better than the others because he wore a long coat with a scarlet collar, sat at a separate table, but, nevertheless, joined in the conversation. Later, a horse-cooper appeared; but as his nose was crooked, he was only allowed to talk standing. When the cowherd entered, a place was squeezed out for him at the table, for even townsfolk respect a herdsman's position of trust. The Moravian drovers stayed outside to watch the cattle.

The tittle-tattle went on pleasantly and quietly as yet, young Mistress Pundor not having arrived. When she put in an appearance, nobody would get in a word edgeways. But her cart had evidently stuck on the way, at some seductive inn, she having seized the opportunity of travelling with the carpenter, her brother-in-law. He was taking tulip-decorated chests to the Onod fair, while young Mistress Pundor supplied the world with soap and tallow candles. When the herdsman entered, the room was so full of smoke that he could hardly see.

"Then tell us, 'Daddy,'" the shoemaker was saying to the tanner, "for you at ?jv?ros are nearer the Hortob?gy inn than we; how did the innkeeper's girl poison the csik?s?"

At these words the cowboy felt as if he had been shot through the heart.

"How was it? Well, pretty little Kl?rika there peppered the stew she was making him with crows' claws."

"I know otherwise," interrupted the ginger-bread baker. "Little Kl?ri put datura in the honeymead--the stuff they use for stupefying fish."

"Well, of course, the gentleman must know best, for he has a gold watch chain! They sent for the regimental surgeon from ?jv?ros to dissect the deceased csik?s, and he found the claws in his inside. They put them in spirits, to be produced as evidence at the trial!"

"So you have killed the poor fellow! We didn't hear he died from the poison, only went mad, and was sent up to Buda to have a hole bored in his head, for all the strength of the poison had gone there."

"Sent him up to Buda, did they? Sent him underground, you mean! Why, my wife herself spoke to the very maker of imitation flowers who made those strewn over Decsi's shroud. That is a fact!"

"Now, now! Mistress Csikmak is here with her fried meat, and as she came a day later from Debreczin, she must know the truth. Let us call her in."

But Mistress Csikmak, being unable to leave her frizzling pan, could only give her opinion through the window. She, likewise, buried the poisoned csik?s. The Debreczin clerk had chanted over his grave, and the priest had preached a farewell sermon.

"And what happened to the girl?" inquired three voices at once.

"The girl! She ran off with her lover--a cowboy; by whose advice she poisoned the csik?s. They are setting up a robber band together."

Ferko Lacza listened quietly to all this.

"Stuff and nonsense. Bosh!" exclaimed the ginger-bread baker, capping her version. "I'm afraid you've not heard right, dear Mistress Csikmak. They caught the girl directly, put her in irons, and brought her in between gendarmes. My lad was there when they took her to the Town-House."

Still the cowherd listened without stirring.

Suddenly, amid great commotion, arrived the above-mentioned laggard--young Mistress Pundor, she foremost, then the driver, lastly the brother-in-law, dragging a large chest. How polite a language is Hungarian, even an individual like the soap-making lady has her title of respect, "ifjasszony" .

"Now Mistress Pundor will tell us what happened to the girl at the inn who poisoned the csik?s," cried everyone.

"Yes, of course. Dear soul. Just let me get my breath a bit." With that she sat down on the large chest, a chair or bench would have smashed to atoms under her form.

"Did they catch pretty Kl?ri? or has she run away?"

"Oh, my dears, why they have tried her already, condemned to death she is, to-morrow they put her in the convict's cell, and the execution is the day after. The headsman comes to-day from Szeged, and they have taken a room for him at the White Horse, because the folks at the Bull refused him. 'Tis as true as I'm sitting here. I have it from the porter himself, who comes to me for candles."

"And what sort of death is she to have?"

"Well, under the old rule--and richly she deserves it--they would set her on straw and burn her. But seeing she is of the better class, and her father of good family, they will only cut off her head. They generally behead gentlefolk."

"Oh, drop your mantle with the silver buttons!" said the cloth merchant, taking the word out of his mouth.

"Let the young mistress here tell us what she has heard. What object could the pretty lass have for contriving such a murder?"

"Ah, 'tis a very strange business. One murder leads to another. A while ago, a rich Moravian cattle-dealer came here buying cattle. He had much money. Pretty Kl?ri, there, talked it over with her lover, the cowherd, and together they murdered the dealer, and threw him into the Hortob?gy. But the horseherd, who was also sweet on the girl, caught them at it, and so first they divided the stolen money between them, and then poisoned the csik?s to put him out of the way."

"And what about the cowherd then, has he been caught?" inquired the bootmaker excitedly.

"They would if they could, but he has vanished utterly. Gendarmes are searching the whole puszta for him, and a price is set on his head. They have stuck up his description, as I have read for myself, a hundred dollars to whoever catches him alive. I know him well enough too!"

Now, had S?ndor Decsi been sitting there instead of Ferko Lacza, great would have been the scene, for here was the moment for a real effective bit of drama. To fling his loaded cudgel on the table, knock the chair from under him, and shout out, "I am the herdsman on whose head they have set a price. Which of you wants the hundred dollars?"

Then the whole worthy company would have taken to their heels and fled, some to the cellar, some up the chimney.

But the cowboy was of a different temperament, and had been used all his life to act with care and caution. Besides, his work among the cattle had impressed upon him the imprudence of catching the bull by the horns.

So leaning his elbows on the table, he asked calmly, "Would you then recognise the herdsman from the description, mistress?"

"Why not indeed! How could I help knowing him? He has bought my soap often enough to be sure!"

"But, dear me, ma'am," said the horse-cooper, who desired to display his knowledge, "what use can a herdsman have for soap? Surely, all cowboys wear blue shirts and breeches which never need washing, because the linen has been first boiled in lard!"

"Deary me! Sakes alive! Did you ever! So soap is only wanted for dirty clothes, is it? A cowboy never shaves, does he? Perhaps he always wears as long a beard as a Jew horse-cooper?"

Everyone shrieked with laughter, much to the discomfiture of the snubbed intruder.

"Now, need I have exposed myself to that?" grumbled the unhappy man.

"You don't happen to know the name," continued the herdsman, in a quiet voice, "of that cowboy, mistress?"

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