The Baron's Sons Part 21

Falling on Jeno's bosom and embracing him, she burst out with every sign of pa.s.sionate emotion:

"They want to part us!"

"Who?" asked Jeno, no little disturbed by the other's manner.

"They, they!" cried she, half choked with emotion, and bursting into tears, while she clasped her lover still more closely.

Jeno's agitation increased; he became thoroughly alarmed. "For heaven's sake, Alfonsine," he begged, "do be cautious! Rideghvary is likely to come in at any moment, and what if he found you here?" Poor, kind-hearted youth, more careful of his sweetheart's good name than she herself!

"Oh, he won't come yet," she made haste to a.s.sure him. "He and mamma are having a talk, and they have decided that you must return to your lodging at once,--that you are not to stay here a day longer. Oh, I know what that means; we are to be parted for ever."

Jeno was on the point of fainting; each word from his sweetheart's lips struck him with dismay. Meanwhile she continued her pa.s.sionate outburst.

"I will not be separated from you!" she declared. "I am yours, yours for ever, yours in life and in death, your beloved, your wife, ready to sacrifice all for you, to suffer all!"

At length she recovered her composure somewhat, and, lifting her tearful eyes to heaven, breathed a solemn vow: "To you, my friend, my lover, my all, to you or to the grave I dedicate myself. No power on earth shall tear me from you. For your sake I will leave kith and kin, abjure my faith, disown the mother who bore me, if they stand in the way of our happiness. For you I will go into exile and wander over the earth as a homeless beggar. Whatever your destiny,--be it life or be it death,--I will share it."

The exaltation of the moment quite robbed Jeno of his last bit of reason. Was it all a dream, or was it reality, he asked himself.

Neither one nor the other, dear Jeno, but an excellent bit of play-acting. Poor credulous youth! It is all a part of a well-laid and far-reaching plot, of which you are the innocent victim.

After leaving her lover, Alfonsine did not return to the drawing-room, but hastened to her maid's chamber, where she learned that Sister Remigia was waiting for her in her room. First removing, with Betty's help, the traces of her scene with Jeno, Alfonsine hurried to meet the nun.

"Is Major Palvicz here?" she demanded.

"No," answered the sister; "he only returned yesterday from his pursuit of Captain Baradlay, whom he failed to overtake."

"Did he send an answer to my letter?"

"Yes; there it is." Sister Remigia handed Alfonsine a note, and then crossed the corridor to Antoinette's room.

Alfonsine remained behind to read her letter. She first locked her door, to guard against surprise, after which she sat down at her table and broke the seal.

"Gracious lady," ran the note, "when you find what you have _mislaid_, you shall recover what you have _lost_."

At these enigmatical words the reader of the message turned pale and the paper trembled in her hand. Her eyes rested on her porcelain lamp-shade, on which was painted the well-known picture of an angel flying heavenward with a sleeping child. The young woman gazed intently at the translucent figures, as if watching to see whither the angel would carry the little child.

Meanwhile Jeno was listening at his door for the departure of the last guest from the drawing-room. Finally they were all gone and he was able to speak with the baroness alone.

"Baroness," said he, "there have been great changes since yesterday.

Let me hope that one thing, at any rate, has not altered,--the relation that has. .h.i.therto existed between Alfonsine and myself, with the apparent sanction of the young lady's mother. I regard that relation as the very breath of my life, and I beg you, madam, to let me know whether there is any reason why I should fear a discontinuance of your favour."

"My dear Baradlay," returned Antoinette, "you know very well that we are warmly attached to you, and in that attachment you cannot have detected any diminution, nor shall you in the future. My daughter has a sincere fondness for you, and thinks of no one else, while I, for my part, could not but feel myself honoured by a tie that should connect us with the n.o.ble house of Baradlay. So far, then, there is nothing to be said against your engagement. The late turn of events, however, has brought with it a change that affects you intimately; and that change, my dear Baradlay-- Do I need to speak further?"

"Really, I cannot think what you mean, madam," protested Jeno.

"You can't? H'm! What, pray, are you now?"

"What am I? Nothing at present."

"That is it exactly. Henceforth you are nothing. There are now two hostile parties, and each is striving for the mastery. In this strife it is uncertain as yet which will win, or whether they may not effect a compromise; but in any event he is lost who belongs to neither side.

Yet do not consider my words as a definite rejection of your suit. We are attached to you, and wish the consummation of that which you so ardently desire. I impose upon you no seven-year probation, like that required by Jacob's father-in-law. So soon as you shall succeed in winning a place in the world, so soon as you cease to be a n.o.body in our political and national life, I shall be the first to bid you welcome,--whether to-morrow or next month or next year. Meanwhile you have my best wishes."

There was nothing for the young man to do but take his lesson to heart and return to his former quarters. The baroness had told him he was a n.o.body, and he could not dispute her. He was, moreover, forced to remember that the monthly allowance regularly forwarded to him by his mother had failed to reach him the last month, and, in consequence, he was likely to find himself financially embarra.s.sed within a very few days. There is something decidedly depressing in an empty purse.

Scarcely had he returned to the dreary atmosphere of his old rooms when Rideghvary paid him the honour of a call.

"In the first place," began Rideghvary, "I have a letter to deliver to you. It is from your mother. Put it in your pocket and read it later.

For the last two weeks, as you may know, the commanding general has detained all mails and ordered all letters to be opened. It was a necessity of the situation--to prevent treason. On your letter I chanced to recognise your mother's handwriting, and I was fortunately able to rescue it from the common fate and bring it to you. No one has tampered with it, but it probably treats of matters that are no longer of importance in the eyes of the government. Furthermore, the writer will be here in person before many hours have pa.s.sed."

"Is my mother in the city?" asked Jeno, much surprised.

"Yes, she is here somewhere, and the reason you haven't seen her before is that you kept yourself at the Plankenhorsts', whither she had her grounds for not going. But you may be sure she has sought you here at least a dozen times, and she will come again to-day."

"But what is she doing in Vienna?"

"Nothing good, as we know but too well, alas! She came to persuade your brother Richard to desert with his men and return to Hungary."

"And did she succeed?"

"Yes, and a detachment of cavalry was sent in pursuit of him three days ago. He has fled to the mountains of Galicia, whence he cannot possibly escape on horseback over the border. Your mother, meanwhile, is here in hiding; she is one of those whom the authorities are trying to arrest."

"Merciful heaven!" cried Jeno, starting up from his chair.

"Keep your seat. Until to-morrow morning she will be in no danger. The city is now in the hands of the army, the civil government being as yet unorganised. There is no effective police and detective force; all that takes time, and in the general confusion now prevailing, any one who wishes can easily remain in hiding. But no one can leave the city undetected, as the lines are closely drawn and every traveller is stopped and required to show a pa.s.sport. Now, although I have reason enough to feel embittered against your family, yet I cannot allow your father's widow to come to such an untimely end as at present threatens her. So I have provided a pa.s.sport with a fict.i.tious name for her use, and you will hand it to her when she comes. And now let us talk about your affairs, my dear Jeno. You remained in Vienna after the March uprising, and have maintained throughout a cool and impartial att.i.tude which nothing short of genius could have dictated. The espousal of a cause before one can judge of its merits--much less be sure of its ultimate success--indicates weakness of judgment and a lack of mental stability. Therefore you were quite right in holding aloof from either side; yet you must not continue to hide your light under a bushel. A fortunate chance has placed a very important appointment virtually in my hands, since a testimonial from me is more than likely to decide the choice of an inc.u.mbent. Your qualifications and ability justify me in regarding you as the fittest person to fill this position. It is the secretarys.h.i.+p of our emba.s.sy to Russia."

Jeno's heart beat high with gratified self-esteem at the sudden prospect of both realising his proudest ambition and attaining his heart's fondest desire. He had often heard his father refer to this eminent post as the goal for which odon was to strive. His head fairly swam at the vision so unexpectedly presented to him. In his wildest dreams he had scarcely dared soar so high.

Meanwhile the other pretended not to note the effect he had produced on the young man. Consulting his watch, he rose hastily. "I have stayed too long," said he. "Another engagement calls me. You will have until to-morrow morning to consider my proposal. Weigh the matter well, for your decision will be of no little importance as regards your whole future career. Look at the question from all sides, and take your mother into your confidence if you wish; she may have weighty arguments to urge against your acceptance. Consider them all carefully, and then decide for yourself."

So saying, he took his leave, well knowing the impression he had made on his plastic subject, and fully confident that the young man would take good heed not to breathe a word of all this to his mother.

As soon as he had left the room, Jeno broke the seal of his letter.

His monthly allowance was enclosed, and also a few lines in his mother's hand.

"My dear son," she wrote, "I have read your letter asking me to share in your happiness and to give my love to the young woman whom you wish to make your wife. Any happiness that befalls you cannot fail to rejoice me also. Rank, wealth, birth are slight matters in my eyes. If you chose a bride from the working cla.s.ses,--a virtuous, industrious, pure-hearted girl,--I should give you my blessing and rejoice in your happiness; or if you should select a spoiled creature of fas.h.i.+on, a coquette and a spendthrift, I should still receive your bride as my daughter, and pray G.o.d to bless the union and turn evil into good; but if you marry Alfonsine Plankenhorst, it will be without the blessing of either G.o.d or your mother, and we shall be parted for ever."

That was a cruel thrust. How, he asked himself, had Alfonsine incurred his mother's displeasure? What possible offence could she have committed? He recalled her words,--"For your sake I will leave kith and kin, abjure my faith, disown the mother who bore me,"--and remembered the pa.s.sionate kisses and warm embrace that had accompanied the vow. And should he be outdone by her in devotion? Was his fondness for his mother stronger than his love for Alfonsine? Was not the one feeling a weakness and the other a mark of manly strength? Surely he was no longer a child. How scornfully that other mother had told him he was a mere n.o.body, and bade him make a place for himself in the world if he wished to marry her daughter! What a triumph it would be to appear before that proud woman on the morrow, with a man's full right to claim his own!

He resolved to accept Rideghvary's offer and to listen to no argument or pleading by which his mother might seek to dissuade him. Bidding his servant admit unannounced the lady who had already called a number of times, he sat awaiting her coming. But he waited in vain, and at last threw himself on his bed and fell asleep. His rest was troubled, however, by a succession of bad dreams.

Filled with fears for his mother's safety, Jeno hastened the next morning, as early as propriety would allow, to call upon Rideghvary.

"Do you know anything about my mother?" were his first words after greeting his patron. "She did not come to see me yesterday."

"Yes, I know," replied the other; "she has made her escape. The market-woman, in whose house she hid, was arrested last night and acknowledged having accompanied your mother to the outskirts of the town, where a carriage was waiting for her. She must be in Pressburg by this time."

These words relieved poor Jeno's breast of a heavy load. His mother was out of danger and he was free to act for himself.