St. Peter's Umbrella Part 18

"Of course, sir, I understand. How stupid of me! I have heard of you, sir, and I knew your poor father; dear me, how very like him you are, and yet so handsome. I knew him _very_ well," she added, smiling, "though he did not leave me 2000 florins. I was an old woman when he was still young. Well, sir, please go up and look at the umbrellas. I will show you the way, and tell you just where to look for them. Follow me, please, and I hope you will find the old gentleman's umbrella."

"I would give you fifty florins for it, Mrs. Muncz."

At the words "fifty florins" the old woman's eyes shone like two glowworms.

"Oh! what a good son!" she sighed, turning her eyes up to heaven.

"There is nothing more pleasing to G.o.d than a good son, who honors the memory of his father."

She got quite active and lively at the thought of the fifty florins, and shutting the door of the shop, she tripped across the yard with Gyuri to the ladder of the loft, and even wanted to go up with him herself.

"No, no, stay down below, Mrs. Muncz. What would the world say, if we two were to go up to the loft together?" said Gyuri jokingly.

Old Rosalia chuckled.

"Oh, dear heart alive!" she said, "there's no danger with me. Why, your father didn't even remember me in his will, though once upon a time ...

(and here she complacently smoothed her gray hair). Well, my dear, please go up."

Gyuri Wibra searched about among the rubbish on the loft for quite half an hour, during which time the old woman came twice to the foot of the ladder to see if he were coming down. She was anxious about the fifty florins.

"Well?" she asked, as he appeared at last empty-handed.

"I have looked through everything," he said, in a discouraged tone, "but the umbrella I want is not among the others."

The old Jewess looked disappointed.

"What can that tiresome Jonas have done with it?" she exclaimed. "Fifty florins! Dreadful! But he never had a reason for anything he did."

"In all probability your husband used that umbrella himself. Mr.

Sztolarik of Besztercebanya says he distinctly remembers seeing him with it once."

"What was it like?"

"The stuff was red, with patches of all sorts on it, and it had a pale green border. The stick was of black wood, with a bone handle."

"May I never go to heaven!" exclaimed Rosalia, "if that was not the very umbrella he took with him last time he left home! Yes, I know he took that one!"

"It was a great pity he took just that one."

Rosalia felt bound to defend her husband.

"How was he to know that?" she said. "He never had a reason for anything he did."

"Well, there's no help for it now," sighed Gyuri, as he stood on the last rung of the ladder, wondering what he was to do next, and feeling like Marius among the ruins of Carthage, only there were not even ruins to his Carthage; all hopes had returned to the clouds from which they had been taken.

Slowly he walked through the shop to his dog-cart, which was waiting outside, and the old woman waddled after him, like a fat goose. But once out in the street, she suddenly seemed to wake up, and seized hold of the lawyer's coat.

"Wait a bit. I had nearly forgotten it, but my son Moricz, who is a butcher in Ipolysag, was here at the time; he had come to buy oxen, I remember. My son Moricz knows everything, and may I never go to heaven (Rosalia evidently had a strong objection to leaving this world) if he can't throw some light on the subject. Go to the fair, my dear boy, to the place where the sheep stand, and speak to the handsomest man you see there, that will be my son Moricz; he's handsome, very handsome, is Moricz. Speak to him, and promise him the fifty florins. I am sure he once told me something about that umbrella. For when my poor dear Jonas died, Moricz went to look for him, and when he found traces of him, he went from village to village making inquiries, till everything was clear. (Here Rosalia gazed tearfully heavenward.) Oh, Jonas, Jonas, why did you treat us so? If your senses had left you, why must you follow them? You had enough sons who would have taken care of you!"

She would have gone on like this all day, if Gyuri had not stepped into his dog-cart and driven off to the scene of the fair as she had advised him.

After putting a few questions to the bystanders, he found Moricz Muncz, a short, stout man, his pock-marked face looking like a turkey's egg.

He was as ugly as a Faun. His butcher's knife and steel hung from a belt round his waist, and on his arm was tattooed the head of an ox.

He was just bargaining for a cow, and its owner, a tanner, was swearing by heaven and earth that such a cow had never been seen in Babaszek before.

"It will eat straw," he a.s.sured him, "and yet give fourteen pints of milk a day!"

"Rubbis.h.!.+" answered Moricz. "I'm not a calf, and don't intend to look upon this cow as my mother. I'm a butcher, and want to kill it and weigh it."

"That's true," said the honest tanner; and of his own free will he lowered the price by five florins.

Moricz did not seem to think that enough, and began poking at the ribs of the cow.

"What bones!" he exclaimed, and then pulled open its mouth to look at its teeth. "Why, it has not got a tooth in its head!"

"What do you want it to have teeth for?" asked the honest tanner. "I don't suppose you want to weigh its teeth too?"

"But it kicks!"

"Well, it won't kick once it is killed; and I don't suppose you want to weigh it before it is killed?"

The honest tanner laughed at his own wit, which had put him into such a good humor, that he again took five florins off the price. But Moricz was not yet satisfied, for he still gazed at the cow, as though trying to find more faults in her. And just at that moment Gyuri Wibra called out:

"Mr. Muncz, I should like to have a word with you."

The tanner, fearing to lose his purchaser, took five florins more off the price, and Moricz, being a sensible man, at once struck the bargain; he always bought of an evening from such as had not been able to sell their cattle during the day, and gave it for a low price to save their having to drive it home again.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

"I should like to buy something of you, which belongs neither to you nor to me."

"There are plenty of things in the world answering to that description,"

said Moricz, "and I can a.s.sure you, I will let you have it as cheap as possible."

"Let us move on a bit."

Gyuri led him out of the crowd to the village pump, near which grew an elder-tree. This tree, round which they had put some palings, was also a part of the future greatness of Babaszek, for the green, evil-smelling insects which housed in its branches, and which are used in various medicines (Spanish flies), induced them to believe that they might, once upon a time, have a chemist in Babaszek. The young girls of the town used to collect the insects, and sell them to the chemist at Zolyom for a few kreutzers; but that was forbidden now, for the people had decided: "Near that tree there will once be a chemist's shop, so we will not have the insects taken away."

They evidently considered them the foundation of the future chemist's store.

Gyuri told the Jew what he wanted; that he was interested in his father's favorite umbrella, and would buy it if he could find it. Did Moricz know anything about it?

"Yes, I do," was the disappointed answer, for now he knew what a trifle it was, he saw the price fall in proportion.

"I will give you fifty florins for any information that will lead to its discovery."

Moricz quickly took off his cap, which until now he had not considered it necessary to remove. Fifty florins for an old umbrella! Why, this young man must be the Prince of Coburg himself from Szent-Antal! Now he noticed for the first time how very elegantly he was dressed.