Timar's Two Worlds Part 57

"Ill.u.s.trissimo! See now. The air of the island is excellent, and most necessary to the re-establishment of my health, which suffered much in South America. I have heard from that dear departed saint, Frau Therese, that healing herbs grow there which are good for wounds; in botany books I have read that they will even make boiled flesh sound again.

Then, too, I long for a quiet, contemplative life after all my trials; after the sybarite existence I have led, I long for the rustic joys of the golden age. Give me the ownerless island, excellency--serene highness."

The fellow begged so mockingly with the gun in his hand.

"You are a fool," said Timar, whom these jeers enraged, and then he turned his chair round and showed Theodor his back.

"Oh, don't turn your back on me, n.o.ble sir--senor, eccelenza, my lord, durchlaucht, mynheer, pan volkompzsnye, monsieur, gospodin, effendi. In what language shall I address you, to persuade you to grant the poor fugitive's request?"

This unseemly mockery did not do the a.s.sailant any good, but lessened the effect of the spell which lay on Timar, who began to recover from his stupefaction, and to recollect that he had to deal with a condemned man who was really in mortal danger. He spoke angrily. "Have done! Name any sum--you shall have it! if you want an island, go and buy one in the Greek Archipelago, or in China; if you are afraid of pursuit, go to Rome, Naples, or Switzerland: give yourself out as a marquis, get on terms with the Camorra, and no one will touch you; I will give you money--but you won't get the island."

"Indeed? Your lords.h.i.+p is going to talk to me like that?" cried Krisstyan. "The drowning man has risen again, and is going to swim ash.o.r.e--now just wait till I push you in again. You think to yourself, 'Very well, b.o.o.by, tell any one what you know; the first result will be that you will be arrested, clapped into jail, and forgotten there like a dog; you will soon be too dumb to tell anything more--or something else may happen.' I see what you think. But don't mistake the man you have to deal with. Now learn that you are tied hand and foot, and that you lie at my mercy like a miser gagged and bound by robbers, who must bear thorns thrust under his nails, his beard plucked out hair by hair, and boiling oil dropped on his skin, till he tells where his money is hidden. I shall do the same with you; and when you can bear no more, then cry 'enough.'"

Timar listened with the deadly interest of a man on the rack to the words of the galley-slave. "Till now I have told not a soul what I know, on my honor. Except the few words which escaped me at Komorn, I have never spoken of you, and what I said then was neither fish nor flesh; but all I know of you is written down--I have it here in my pocket, and in four different doc.u.ments, with different addresses. One is a denunciation to the Turkish Government, in which I reveal what Ali Tschorbadschi took from Stamboul, and what, as the confiscated property of a traitor, is due to the sultan. Even the jewels described to me by my father are enumerated there, piece by piece, with the account of their present possessors, and of how they came by them. In the second letter I inform the Viennese authorities of your murder of the pasha, and your theft of his property. My third letter is directed to Frau von Levetinczy at Komorn. I tell her what you did to her father, and how you came into possession of her mother's picture and the other treasures you presented to her. But I have told her something else besides--the place you go to when you are not at home--the secret joys of the ownerless island--the intrigue with another woman--the deceit you practice on her.

I tell her about Noemi and little Dodi. Now shall I drive another thorn under your nails?"

Timar's breast heaved with heavy panting sobs.

"Well, as you say nothing, we will proceed," said the cruel torturer.

"The fourth letter is to Noemi. I tell her in it all she does not yet know: that you have a lawful wife out in the world--that you are a gentleman who has dishonored her, and can never be her husband; who only sacrificed her to his base l.u.s.ts, and who is a murderer besides. What!

you don't ask for mercy yet? Do you see those two towers? That is Tihany; there live pious monks, for it is a monastery; there I shall deposit the four letters, and beg the prior, if I do not return within a week, to forward them to their addresses. It would be no use for you to put me out of the way, for the letters would still reach their destination, and then you could not stay any longer in this country. You can not go home; for even if your wife forgave you her father's death, she would never forgive you Noemi. Justice would make inquiries, and then you would have to let out how you came by your riches.

"The Turkish Government would bring you to trial, and the Austrian too.

The whole world would soon learn to know you, and those who looked on you as a man of gold, would see in you the very sc.u.m of humanity. You could not even take refuge in the ownerless island, for there Noemi would shut the door against you; she is a proud woman, and her love would turn to hatred. No, there is nothing left to you but to fly from the world, like me; change your name, like me; slink secretly from town to town, and tremble when steps approach your door, like me. Now, shall I go or stay?"

"Stay!" groaned the sufferer.

"Oho! you give in!" cried the rascal; "then let us sit down again.

First, will you give me the ownerless island?"

A feeble subterfuge occurred to Timar's heart, which he used to gain time. "But the island belongs to Noemi, not to me."

"A very true observation; but my request is not altered by that fact.

The island belongs to Noemi, but Noemi belongs to you."

"What do you mean?" asked Timar, wildly.

"Now don't roll your eyes; don't you know you are fast bound? Let us take it all as it comes. The thing can be arranged. You write a letter to Noemi, which I will carry; meanwhile that fierce black brute will have died, and I can land safely. In the letter you will take leave of her; you will say that you cannot marry her, because unavoidable family complications stand in the way; that you have a wife, the beautiful Timea, whom Noemi will remember: you will write that you have taken care to provide for her suitably; that you have recalled her former betrothed from the New World, who is a fine handsome fellow, and ready to marry her and shut his eyes to the past. You will promise to provide for them both handsomely in the future, and give them your blessing and good wishes for a happy life together!"

"You want Noemi too?"

"Why, what the devil! Do you think I want your stupid island in order to live there like Robinson Crusoe? I shall want something to sweeten my life in that desert. Over there I have reveled in a surfeit of embraces from black-eyed, sable-tressed women; now, after seeing Noemi's golden locks and blue eyes, I am quite mad about her. And then she struck me in the face, and drove me away; I must have payment for that. Is there a n.o.bler revenge than to give a kiss for a blow? I will be the master of the refractory witch; that is my fancy. And by what right do you deny her to me? Am I not Noemi's betrothed, who would make her my legal wife and bring her to honor, while you can never marry her, and can only make her unhappy?"

The man drops boiling oil on Timar's heart: he wrung his hands in agony.

"Will you write to Noemi, or shall I take these four letters over to the cloister?"

In Timar's torture the words escaped him, "Oh, my little Dodi!"

The fugitive laughed with a knavish grin. "I'll be his father, a very good sort of father--"

At that instant Michael sprung from his seat, threw himself with a leap like a jaguar's on the convict, seized him by both arms before he could use his weapon, dragged him forward, gave him a blow in the back and a shove which sent him flying through the open door on to the landing, tumbling over and over: there he got up with difficulty, still giddy with his fall, stumbled over the first step, and limped groaning and swearing down the stairs. All below was darkness and silence. The only man besides these two in this winter castle was deaf, and sleeping off a carouse.

CHAPTER V.

WHAT HAS THE MOON TO TELL?

Timar could have killed the man--he had him in his power; and Timar felt a madman's strength in his muscles: yet he did not kill him. Timar said to himself, the man is right; destiny must be fulfilled. Michael was not a miscreant who conceals one crime by another, but of that n.o.bler sort which is willing to atone for past sin. He stepped out on to the balcony, and looked on with folded arms while the man left the castle and limped away toward the gate of the court-yard. The moon rose meanwhile over the Somogy hills, and illuminated the front of the castle.

The dark figure on the balcony would be a good mark for any one who wished to aim at it. Theodor Krisstyan walked underneath, and looked up: the half-closed wound on the brow had reopened in his fall, and was bleeding; the blood ran down over his face. Perhaps Timar had gone outside just because he expected the furious man would shoot him out of revenge. But he only stood still in front of him, and began to mutter words without sound--just like Athalie. How well those two would suit!

Krisstyan only spoke by movements of the mouth. He limped, for he had hurt one foot in his fall. He struck his left hand on the gun, which he still held, then seemed to say "No," shook his fist at Timar, and threatened him by gestures. This pantomime meant, "Not thus will I destroy you; I have another fate designed for you; just wait!" Timar looked after him as he left the yard, following him with his eyes along the snowy path as far as the ice-covered lake. He gazed after him till he could only see a black speck moving in the direction of the double towers on the high peak.

Storm-clouds were rising over the Zala range. Timar saw them not. Round the Platten See a hurricane often arises in calm weather without the slightest warning; the fishermen who hear from afar the rustling of the leaves have not time to get back to the sh.o.r.e: the bursting storm drives a snow-cloud before it, from which tiny crystals drift down, sharp as needle-points. The cloud only covered half of the great panorama, wrapping the Tihany side, the peninsula with its rocky ridge and its gloomy church, in darkness, while the eastern level lay bright in the moonlight. The storm roared howling through the tall forests of the Aracs valley; the vanes on the ancient castle groaned like the cries of accursed spirits; and as the furious wind swept across the ice, it drew from the frozen floes such an unearthly music that one could fancy one saw the spirits which uttered it chasing each other, and yelling in their flight.

Amidst the ghostly music it seemed to Timar as if he heard through the howling of the tempest an awful scream in the distance, such as only human lips can utter--a cry of anguish, despair, blasphemy, which would rouse the Seven Sleepers and make the stars shudder. After a few seconds it came again, but shorter and more feeble, and then only the music of the storm was audible.

That ceased too. The snow-shower swept across the landscape; the storm held only one snow-cloud; the trees were still; the tones of the wind moaning over the ice-flats faded away in the distance with dying chords; the sky cleared, and all was once more silence. Timar's heart too was at rest; he had finished his career. No road lay open to him. He could go neither forward nor back; he had fled as long as life was possible; and now the abyss yawned in front of him which had no other sh.o.r.e. His whole life pa.s.sed before him like a dream, and he knew that at last he was about to awake from it. His first desire for the possession of the rich and lovely girl was the origin of all these events; his life hung on it like the enigma of the Sphinx. When the riddle was solved, the Sphinx would fall into the abyss.

How could he live on, unmasked before the world, unmasked before Timea, and before Noemi? Thrown down from the pedestal on which he had stood for years at home and abroad, under the halo of his sovereign's favor and his compatriots' veneration! How could he ever look again on the woman who had defended him in his rival's presence with such holy sorrow, when she learned that he was the very opposite of all she had admired in her husband, and that his whole life was a lie? And how could he meet Noemi when she knew he was Timea's husband? or dare to take Dodi on his lap? Nowhere, nowhere in the wide world was there a place where he could hide. It was as that man had said: there was nothing for him but to turn his back on the civilized world--like him; to change his name--like him; to sneak like a thief from one town to another--like him; to wander homeless on the face of the earth. . . .

But Timar knew of another place; there is the moon's icy countenance--what did Noemi say? There live those who cast their lives away because they have ceased to know desire; they go where nothing exists: if that man seeks out Noemi on the ownerless island and brings despair on the lonely creature by his news, she will follow him there--to the frozen star.

Timar felt so tranquilized by this reflection that he had the self-control to direct his telescope on to the waning moon, on whose sphere s.h.i.+ning s.p.a.ces alternated with large, crescent-shaped shadows, and there came to choose a monstrous ravine, and say, "That shall be my dwelling; there will I wait for Noemi!"

Then he went back to his room. The adventurer's burned clothes still glowed red on the hearth, the ashes showing the texture of the charred cloth. Timar laid fresh logs on, so that the fire might destroy every remnant. Then he threw on his cloak and left the house. He bent his steps toward the Platten See. The moon lighted the great ice-floes, an icy sun s.h.i.+ning over a world of ice. . . . "I come, I come!" cried Timar; "I shall soon know what you have to tell me--if you have called me I shall be there." He went straight to the great chasm. The poles erected by the good fishermen, the sticks with straw bundles on the top, warned every wanderer from afar to keep away--Timar sought them out.

When he reached one of these danger-signals he stopped, took off his hat, and looked up to heaven.

Years had pa.s.sed away since last he prayed. In this dark hour the Great Being came to his mind who teaches the stars their courses and rides on the storm, and who has created only one creature which defies its Maker--man. In this hour he was impelled to uplift his soul to Him.

"Eternal Might, I fly from Thee, yet to Thee I come. I come not to ask for mercy: Thou didst lead me, but I fled from Thy ways; Thou didst warn me, yet I would not hear. Now, with blind obedience, I depart for the hereafter: my soul will rest there in cold annihilation. I must atone for making so many miserable who have been mine and have loved me; take them into Thy protection, Thou Eternal Justice! I have sinned, and I give myself up to death and d.a.m.nation--they are not guilty--I alone.

Thou Everlasting Justice, who hast brought me to this, be just also to them. Protect, console these feeble women, the helpless child, and give me alone over to Thine avenging angels--I am judged and I am silent."

He knelt down. Between the edges of the fissure the waves of the Balaton plashed softly. The gloomy lake often moans even in a dead calm, and when its surface is ice-bound it swells up in the clefts and roars like the sea. Timar bent down to kiss the waves, as one kisses his mother before he starts for a long journey--as one kisses the pistol before blowing out one's brains with it.

And as he bent down to the water, a human head rose from the depths in front of him. Over the forehead of the upturned face was a black band covering the right eye; the other eye, bloodshot, gla.s.sy, and cold as stone, glared at him; through the open mouth the water ran out and in . . . the phantom sunk again.

Timar sprung, half crazed, from his kneeling position, and stared after the ghostly apparition: it was as if it called on him to follow. Between the frozen margins the living water splashed. And again in the distance resounded the organ-tones which are the precursors of the nocturnal storm: amidst the howling of the approaching gale were heard the shrieks and groans of the miserable spirits, and higher and higher swelled the ghostly song. Again the whole frozen ma.s.s gave out the unearthly music, like the strings of myriad harps, until the sound grew into a booming roar, as though the lightning lured an awful, deafening melody from the resounding waves. The voices of the storm bellowed below the surface.

With a frightful crash the floes were set in motion, and the tremendous pressure of the atmosphere closed once more the chasm in the ice.

Timar fell trembling on his face upon the still quivering gla.s.sy mirror.

CHAPTER VI.

WHO COMES?