The Village Notary: A Romance of Hungarian Life. Eötvös József

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СКАЧАТЬ "Ten butts, one dollar," Kenihazy was heard to respond with, "That will do to keep us in!" and, giving vent to his satisfaction, the worthy clerk, knocking his spurs together, blew an immense column of smoke from his pipe. In fact, he smoked with such violence, that one might have likened him to a steam-engine, but for the indecency of comparing a vulgar working machine with an Hungarian gentleman.

      The party were about to leave, when their attention was suddenly directed to something which was going on in the plain below. Two men on horseback, and one on foot, were seen approaching over the heath; and it was remarked that the individual, whose means of locomotion were so unequally matched with those of his companions, walked in front of the horses, and sometimes even between them. The servants of the party, nay, the very justice, were in doubt as to who or what they were; whether Pandurs or robbers, for at that distance it was quite impossible to make out the difference, which doubtlessly does exist, between brigands and the familiars of the Hungarian Hermandad. On a nearer approach, however, all doubts were removed by the considerate manner in which the cavaliers sought to divert the attention of the pedestrian from the length of the way, by beating him; and it was at once clear that these were servants of the county escorting a prisoner, whom they were subjecting to the customary introductory proceedings.

      "Let somebody ride down to the Pandurs and tell them to bring the culprit to this place," said Mr. Skinner to his clerk. "I'm sure he is one of Viola's gang; his case ought to be tried by a court-martial.2 What did I tell you?" he continued, turning to Akosh, "I was sure we should catch the birds; and though I may not be re-elected, I mean at least to deserve the confidence of the county by hanging a parcel of the beggars on this hill."

      "Not before you've caught them, and I doubt whether you ever will. Tengelyi says it is next to impossible to find an honest man. Now your example proves that nothing is more easy, because hitherto you've caught none but honest men; and I would almost swear," added Akosh, "that Viola's comrade, the mighty outlaw whom your people are bringing us, and to whose hanging you mean to treat the county, – that other Jaromir and Angyalbandi3, – is no less a personage than our old gipsy."

      Upon this everybody recognised old Peti, and there was a general burst of laughter.

      "Poor Peti!" cried Akosh with a great show of sentiment. "The country cannot boast of a man more gifted, more useful. When a house is built, it is he who makes the bricks; when a lock is out of order, he puts it to rights. He is a born blessing to property. He shoes your horse and fastens your spurs; there is not a wedding but he plays the first fiddle at it; nay, he is useful to the last moment of your life, for he digs your grave. It is said of him that, in his youth, he served the state as a hangman. Truly, truly, the world is ungrateful to great men, but still more so to useful men!"

      "I don't see anything to laugh at," said Mr. Skinner, looking still more solemn and black than was his wont. "Possibly there is a case for a 'statarium.' As for me, I don't think it is your old gipsy, but if – "

      "If it is not Peti," cried Akosh, laughing; "if that fellow dares to sport a white skin, there is not, of course, any obstacle to his being hanged."

      "Enough of this! who says the fellow yonder is not a gipsy? but I say, who knows whether that old rascal, whom you mistake for an innocent musician – ?"

      "Has not masqueraded as a gipsy all along! But you will bring the truth to light. You, Skinner, will skin the culprit. You'll strip him of his brown hide; you'll show the world that Viola the great robber is identical with Peti the gipsy."

      "Don't make a fool of me, sir! I won't suffer it!" cried the justice, whose pipe had gone out with the excess of his rage. "Paul Skinner is not the man whom you can fool, I can tell you! But never mind; who knows what that fellow Peti has done all his life besides brick-making? and I apprehend that if he set out with being a hangman, he'll end with being a hanged man."

      This said, the justice lighted his pipe, muttering his imprecations against untimely jokes and bad tinder.

      Poor Peti had meanwhile proceeded to a distance of five hundred yards from the Turk's Hill; and so great was the good man's natural politeness, that even at that distance he bowed to the party on the hill. Little did he know the intensity of Paul Skinner's rage; but the first words of the worthy magistrate showed him that it was an evil hour, indeed, in which he had come before his judge.

      "Hast at last gone into the snare, thou precious bird?" thundered Skinner. "Never mind, you old rascal! never mind! I'll pay you, and with a vengeance, too!"

      "Most sublime – " sighed the wretched musician; but the justice, unmindful of this appeal to his better feelings, continued: —

      "Hold your tongue! I know all! all, I tell you. And if you will not confess, I'll freshen your memory!"

      "Most sublime Lord!" sighed Peti; "I am an innocent, poor, old man. I – "

      "Dog!" retorted Mr. Skinner. "If you dare to bark, I'll pull your ears, that you shall not forget it to the day of judgment. Is it not horrible? the profligate fellow would give me the lie!"

      "No, sweet, gracious Lord!" cried Peti, weeping; "I do not deny any thing, but – "

      "It's better for you; at all events, we need not ask you any questions. The judge knows every thing." Turning to the Pandurs, Mr. Skinner added: "Now Janosh, tell me, what did you bring that culprit for?"

      "Only because we have been told to arrest all suspicious characters."

      "Ah!" cried Akosh, "and the old musician is a suspicious character! You are fine fellows, and ought to be promoted!"

      "We'll see that by and by!" snarled Mr. Skinner. "Now tell us, Janosh, what is the old rascal's crime?"

      "Why," said the Pandur, "the long and the short of it is, that it was about three o'clock, – was it not, Pishta? – after having had our dinner and rest at the Murder-Tsharda, we rode up to St. Vilmosh forest. We had been on our legs from an early hour this morning, and were apprehensive that we should not be able to obey his worship's orders about arresting at least one suspicious character, when Pishta spied a horseman near St. Vilmosh forest, and a man to whom he was talking. 'Suppose this is Viola,' said Pishta, who was just lighting his pipe. 'Ah, indeed! suppose this is Viola!' said I; and when I looked at the horseman, I thought it was – "

      "Viola?" said Mr. Skinner, with a voice which left no doubt about the answer which he expected.

      "I'm sure it was he, your worship," replied Janosh; "I'll bet any thing it was he."

      "Now this fellow is short-sighted," interrupted Akosh; "I wonder how many robbers Pishta saw."

      "We'll see that by and by!" said Mr. Skinner, angrily. "The devil may be a judge when robbers and vagabonds find such protection. Go on. What happened next? Did you see any thing more of the criminal?"

      "How was it possible? We spurred our horses on, but the poor beasts were so tired they would not run; and when we came to the place, we found no one but the old gipsy, walking to St. Vilmosh."

      "Well?" said the judge impatiently.

      "Of course they handcuffed him, for who knows what outrage he might have committed if he had come to St. Vilmosh," cried Akosh. "They are the very fellows to be sent after robbers. They will soon starve all robbers, by preventing honest men from leaving their houses."

      Old Peti saw that he had found a protector. Growing bolder, he asked to be freed from his handcuffs, and though the justice opposed, he yielded at length to the entreaties of Kalman, Akosh, and Vandory, though СКАЧАТЬ