St. Peter's Umbrella Part 30

"To Glogova," said Gyuri to the coachman, and Janos cracked his whip and the horses started, but hardly were they out of the yard, when the mayor's wife came tripping after them, calling out to them at the top of her voice to stop. They did so, wondering what had happened. But nothing serious was the matter, only Mrs. Mravucsan had unearthed a few apples in her storeroom, with which she filled their pockets, impressing upon them that the beautiful rosy-cheeked one was for Veronica. Then they started again, with a great amount of waving of handkerchiefs and hats, until the house, with its smoking chimneys and its large walnut-tree, was out of sight.

As they pa.s.sed Mrs. Muncz's shop she was standing at the door in her white cap, nodding to them with her gray head, which seemed cut into two parts by the broad-rimmed spectacles. At the smithy they were hammering away at the priest's broken chaise, and farther on various objects which had been left unsold at yesterday's fair were being packed in boxes, and then put in carts to be taken home again. They pa.s.sed in turn all the tiny houses, with their brightly-painted doors, on which the names of the owners were printed in circles. At the last house, opposite the future Jewish burial-ground, two pistol-shots were fired.

The travellers turned their heads that way, and saw Mr. Mokry in his new suit, made by the noted tailor of Besztercebanya, with his hat in one hand, and in the other the pistol he had fired as a farewell greeting.

On the other side of the road was the dangerous windmill, its enormous sails throwing shadows over the flowering clover-fields. Luckily it was not moving now, and looked like an enormous fly pinned on the blue sky.

There was not a breath of wind, and the ears of wheat stood straight and stiff, like an army of soldiers. Only the sound of the horses' hoofs was to be heard, and the woods of Liskovina stretched before them like a never-ending green wall.

The Third Devil

PART V

CHAPTER I.

MARIA CZOBOR'S ROSE, THE PRECIPICE, AND THE OLD PEAR-TREE.

Madame Krisbay was very much interested in the neighborhood they were driving through, and asked many questions. They pa.s.sed a small chapel in the wood, and Veronica explained that a rich innkeeper had once been killed there by robbers, and the bereaved widow had built this chapel on the spot.

"Perhaps out of grat.i.tude?" suggested Gyuri.

"Don't be so horrid," exclaimed Veronica.

The Liskovina Wood is quite like a park, with the exception that there is not much variety in the way of trees, the birch, the favorite tree of the Slovaks, being predominant. But of flowers there were any amount.

The ferns grew to a great height, the Anthoxantum had flowered, and in its withered state filled the whole wood with its perfume. Among plants, as among people, there are some which are only pleasant and agreeable to others after their death. What a difference there is in the various kinds of plants! There is the gladiolus, the most important part of which is the bulb it hides under the earth; whoever eats it dreams of the future.

Much simpler is the ox-eye daisy, for it will tell you without any ceremonies if the person you are thinking of loves you very much, a little, or not at all; you have only to pull off its snow-white petals one by one, and the last one tells you the truth.

The wild pink provides food for the bee, the lily serves as a drinking-cup for the birds, the large dandelion is the see-saw of the b.u.t.terflies. For the Liskovina woods are generous, and provide beds for all kinds of insects, strawberries for children, nosegays for young girls, herbs for old women, and the poisonous aconite, which the peasants in that part called the "Wolf-killer."

Whether it ever caused the death of a wolf is doubtful, for wolves have their fair share of sense, and probably, knowing something of botany, they tell their cubs: "Don't touch the Aconitum Lycotinum, children; it is better to eat meat."

It was delightful driving in the shady woods, though Madame Krisbay was alarmed each time a squirrel ran up a tree, and was in constant fear of the robbers who had killed the rich innkeeper.

"Why, that was eighty years ago, madame!"

"Well, and their sons?"

She was restless till they had got clear of the wood and had come to a large barren plain, with here and there a small patch of oats, stunted in their growth.

But after that they came to another wood, the far-famed "Zelena Hruska,"

in the shape of a pear. Supposing robbers were to turn up there!

And Gyuri was just wis.h.i.+ng for their appearance while madame was thinking with horror of them. As he sat face to face with the girl, he decided to marry her--because of the umbrella. The girl was certainly pretty, but even had she not been so, the umbrella was worth the sacrifice. St. Peter had told him what to do, and he would follow his advice. Superst.i.tion, at which he had laughed the day before, had taken possession of him, and made a place for itself among his more rational thoughts. He felt some invisible power pus.h.i.+ng him on to take this step.

What power was it? Probably St. Peter, who had advised him in his dream to take it. But how was he to set to work? That was what was troubling him the whole time. How convenient it would be if there were some romance nowadays, as in olden times or in novels; for instance, if robbers were now to appear on the scene, and he could shoot them down one after the other with his revolver, and so free Veronica, who would then turn to him and say:

"I am yours till death!"

But as matters were at present, he did not dare to take any steps in the right direction; the words he had so well prepared seemed to stick in his throat. Doubts arose in his mind; supposing she had not taken a fancy to him! Supposing she were already in love! She must have seen other men besides himself, and if so, they _must_ have fallen in love with her. Something ought to happen to help matters on a little.

But no robbers came, there probably were none; it was a poor neighborhood, nothing grew there, not even a robber.

After they had pa.s.sed the wood, they saw an old castle among the trees, on the top of a hill. It was the Castle of Slatina, had formerly belonged to the Czobors, and was now the property of the Princes of Coburg.

They had to stop at an inn to feed the horses, and Veronica proposed their going to look at the castle, of which an old man had charge; he would show them over it. The innkeeper a.s.sured them some of the rooms were just as the Czobors had left them; in the court were a few old cannon, and in the house a collection of curious old armor, and some very interesting family portraits, among them that of a little girl, Katalin Czobor, who had disappeared from her home at the age of seven.

Veronica was very interested in the child.

"And what happened to her?" she asked.

"The poor child has never turned up to this day!" sighed the innkeeper.

"And when was it she disappeared?"

"About three hundred years ago," he answered with a smile, and then accompanied his guests up the mountain path that led to the castle.

They were silent on their return, only Madame Krisbay remarking:

"What a mouldy smell there was in there!"

Veronica had caught sight of a beautiful rose on a large bush near the half-ruined walls of the bastion.

"What an exquisite flower!" she exclaimed.

The old caretaker had a legend about that too. From this spot beautiful Maria Czobor had sprung from the walls, and thrown herself down the precipice, for her father wished her to marry an officer in the Emperor's army, and she was in love with a shepherd. The latter had planted a rose-bush on this spot, and every year it bore one single blossom. Gyuri dropped behind the others, and begged the old man to give him the rose.

"My dear sir, what are you thinking of? Why, the poor girl's spirit would haunt me if I were to do such a thing!"

Gyuri took out his purse and pressed two silver florins into the man's hand, upon which, without further ado, he took out his knife and cut the rose.

"Won't the young lady's spirit haunt you now?" asked Gyuri, smiling.

"No, because with part of the money I will have a Ma.s.s said for the repose of her soul."

Gyuri ran after the ladies with the rose in his hand, and offered it to Veronica.

"Here is Maria Czobor's rose," he said. "Will you give me your pink in exchange?"

But she put her hands behind her back, and said coldly:

"How could you have the heart to pick it?"

"I did it for your sake. Will you not exchange?"