Читать книгу The Man with the Scales - Bowen Marjorie - Страница 4

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Julius Sale was delighted to see the brilliant stranger who was so in keeping with his own mood and the sunshine of the winter day.

Life was neither dull nor uncomfortable for Julius, who was young, strong, rich, and possessed happy prospects; moreover, he found the background of the entrancing town of Leyden very agreeable and was very satisfied with the prospects open to him when he should return to Scotland.

He had worked late into the night at his law studies; but before he had retired he had given some thought to a design never absent from his soul—that of ruining an enemy.

As he possessed the self-confidence of one well born and well dowered who has never received a rebuff, he went up to the stranger, who was pausing by the great canal to watch the barges bringing up their winter cargoes. "Ah, sir, you are new to Leyden, I think," said Julius with a pleasant address that avoided any air of effrontery. "You should see this sight in the summer, when flower petals and fruit seeds are scattered from the barges along the quays."

"I doubt if I shall be here in the summer," replied the other with a civil smile, adding: "I wonder why you take notice of me among all those who go to and fro in this excellent city."

Julius had spoken in English and without thought; now he was impressed by the perfection of the other's accent, for he did not take him to belong to his own nation.

Slightly set back, he replied:

"You suited my thoughts and the day. Pardon me if I have offended."

"By no means," replied the stranger. "I have few acquaintances here and I shall be glad of your company." Julius was flattered.

"Shall we go to the coffee house by the Morsch Gate?" he asked. "The Golden Standard?"

"With pleasure."

Julius was regarding the stranger with considerable interest. He was a well-built, finely formed man of middle age with an air of remarkable distinction that consisted more in his regard and bearing than in his looks, for he was not handsome, his features being rather flat though robust and well coloured; his clothes were of the finest quality but without ostentation; Julius perceived that he was followed closely by a servant in a plain but good livery; this fellow was of a pleasant aspect but slightly deformed.

"You, sir, are not English?" asked Julius, as they proceeded towards the Morsch Gate.

"No—nor am I a Scot," replied the other. "Both I and my servant—I perceive that you regard him closely—come from a far distant kingdom and serve a mighty master."

The native pride of Julius was somewhat offended by the tone of these words, which seemed to hint at some haughty mystery. He gave his own name: "Julius Sale of Basset."

"I am Baron Kiss," smiled the other.

"I think that is a Hungarian name?"

"Certainly. My master is both King and Emperor; he employs me on important business. This poor fellow is named Trett. You might consider him my body servant or else a mere jottery man."

"What! You are familiar with the vulgar idiom of my own country—the Scottish Border!" exclaimed Julius. "I have never heard that term 'jottery man' beyond my native place."

"I have travelled widely and studied much," replied Baron Kiss. "It is not difficult to pick up odd scraps of knowledge."

The air was bluish, and the sunshine had not melted the frost that lay white in the shadows; the smaller canals were coated with ice; the buildings of exquisite brickwork, with applied ornaments of white plaster, showed in flat, pale tones; the leafless trees shivered delicate outlines in pale shades of lustre.

The two entered the coffee house that bore the English name of the Golden Standard, in compliment to the large number of students and travellers who came from Great Britain. The servant disappeared; Julius did not observe how he crept away.

The coffee house was well appointed and one of the most popular in Leyden.

"You know a fair number of people here?" asked Baron Kiss.

"Yes, indeed, but of course I always feel an alien."

"I have heard very good reports of you," smiled the older man, and again Julius, who considered himself not at all meanly, was slightly offended; this stranger was not his schoolmaster.

Baron Kiss perceived his pique and added at once:

"No one can be long in Leyden without hearing of the excellent abilities of the well-graced student—Julius Sale of Basset."

This compliment satisfied the younger man.

"I was up with my books until early this morning," he said. "I hope to do well in my law studies."

"And in everything else, I suppose? Come, admit that as the sole heir of a wealthy house your prospects are superb."

"I do not deny that," replied Julius, drawn out by the stranger's manner, which was at once flattering and reassuring; they drank their coffee together as if they were old friends and gossiped lightly of this and that.

Suddenly Baron Kiss asked:

"Were you thinking of nothing but your legal studies when you lay awake this morning?"

"Perhaps not," admitted Julius.

"What then was your design?"

Julius did not know why he gave his confidence to one whom he had met so shortly before; but he replied, as if without his own volition:

"Revenge on an enemy."

"Are you at Leyden because of this intention?"

"It is true that I thought that a complete knowledge of the law might help me to ruin this man—a Leyden degree is very useful."

"To ruin this man," repeated Baron Kiss. "That sounds cruel."

"His father killed mine," Julius broke out impulsively. "Is it not natural that I should wish to avenge such an atrocity?"

"What age is he—this enemy of yours?"

"About my own."

"Then he must have been a small child when this crime was committed."

"How do you know that?" demanded Julius.

"I guessed. A feud, I suppose, and as such something that has nothing to do with you."

Julius found himself telling his story. It sounded in his own ears very commonplace when related in the comfortable atmosphere of the Leyden coffee house.

Yes, there had been a feud; one of long standing about a parcel of land and some other matter; the so-called crime might have been an accident; the two men had been out shooting together; the verdict had been 'not proven'; but the man once accused and always suspected had gone to Italy and France soon after his acquittal and there died, leaving one son to grow up in poverty on his small estate. Many angry relatives had told the tale again and again to Julius, until he was convinced that his father had been murdered. He was studying law because he thought that by some legal quirk or quibble he could deprive his enemy of his estate; the two families had once been connected, and some clever jurists had secretly assured Julius that there were many flaws in the titles that his enemy Martin Deverent held.

"The land would be useful to me also," said Julius. "And it is a poor price to pay for the death—murder, rather—of a man like my father."

"Has this young man any knowledge of your design, which I must say I applaud?" said Baron Kiss.

"No. We have hardly met. I am glad that you agree that what I intend to do is just—"

"So it seems to me."

"Then I will tell you that I do not intend to stop at the estate—there is a lady—" Julius paused; never before had he spoken so frankly of this affair that lay at the very centre of his being.

He gazed dubiously on Baron Kiss, then down at his coffee cup, beside which stood an empty glass.

"Have we been drinking?" he asked childishly.

"My dear fellow, you yourself ordered the brandies—surely you recall?"

"I cannot say that I do. Maybe I was a little lightheaded after a night nearly sleepless—and then the frost."

Baron Kiss smiled indulgently.

"I am quite prepared to play the host," he remarked with a slight bow.

"You could not suppose that I was thinking of the reckoning?" exclaimed Julius. "What surprised me was that I gave a lady's name."

"You did not do so."

"It was on my tongue." Julius beckoned to the waiter and ordered two more brandies. "We should be drinking this chill weather."

"It is a beautiful day."

"Yes, indeed."

The brandies were brought, and this time Julius noticed the warmth that loosened his speech.

"Her name is Annabella Liddiard," he said. "And she is almost betrothed to this enemy of mine."

"A pretty name," remarked Baron Kiss courteously. "Yes. She has no dower and therefore is not much sought after, but I admire her myself—"

"Still, your motive is revenge—you wish to take this Annabella Liddiard away from this other young man; your enemy, as you think."

"The murderer of my father," said Julius quickly.

"Or rather, the son of the man you suppose murdered your father?" Baron Kiss put in his correction gracefully.

"Yes, yes, I have told you the story. Perhaps you think that I am acting badly, but let me tell you that I intend to marry this girl—even against the wishes of my relations."

"You are in love with her?"

"By no means. But I do not wish to abuse my position by doing anything dishonourable."

Julius spoke with a simplicity that accorded with his comely aspect and took all suspicion of bragging from his words.

"And what are her feelings?"

"I do not know. She is extremely simple and, I suppose, will be ready to make a good match. At least, her people will—they are both ambitious and not rich. Her mother in particular urges on an engagement with me."

"Your prospects are excellent."

"Quite how do you mean that?" asked Julius.

"I mean that you are likely to attain the revenge you seek and to deprive this young man of his estate and his betrothed wife."

"Put like that, the thing doesn't seem pleasant."

"Yet you are elated at the thought of success, are you not?"

"Yes, I confess I am—I have hated this Martin ever since I can remember."

"You think, perhaps, that hate is stronger than love?" asked Baron Kiss.

"I do, indeed—despite all the preachers say. After all, no one loved me very much."

"Not even your mother?"

"Oh, she is a reserved sort of person. I think that all her affection was given to my father."

Baron Kiss called the waiter and asked for a church-warden pipe, which he filled and lit with a deliberate gesture. It seemed to Julius that his face was shining, although he sat in shadow, and that his manner had increased in self-confidence.

"My tale cannot interest you—indeed, it must seem rather paltry."

"By no means," replied the elder man. "There is something majestic in your design that I much admire."

"Perhaps you would if you knew the whole story. I am really rescuing Annabella from a hard life as a poor man's wife."

"Is she really betrothed to him?"

"Oh no—but somehow it has been an understood thing—they are close neighbours."

The coffee house was now empty; a mellow light came from the brass lamps and a gentle warmth from the white porcelain stove. Julius had thought it was early in the day that he had met Baron Kiss, but now surely it was afternoon; probably he had told his story at greater length than he had supposed; he said as much, with reserve and dignity, but Baron Kiss gave his arm a reassuring touch.

"My dear fellow, I have not been so interested for a long time. Why, I can see the whole thing, the people I mean, and the background—"

"It is familiar to you, perhaps, the Border? But I think I asked you that before—"

"It is familiar."

"Strange that I have never seen you—we have few strangers. I hope that one day you will visit me at Castle Basset."

"I hope so, too."

Julius was a little breathless; he supposed he was excited but could not think why this should be; the image of Annabella in her green snood and scarlet dress was clearly before his inner vision.

He ventured on a further confidence.

"My mother knows nothing of my plans, of course—she hopes that I shall marry another lady."

"A pretty tangle, I see!" smiled Baron Kiss. "So your mother is not revengeful?"

"Yes—but her manner is different from mine. She has always ignored this Martin and never mentioned the dreadful episode that killed the heart in her—yet I think that she will be glad when he is ruined—"

Baron Kiss glanced at him keenly out of his sharp little eyes.

"I know this all sounds—well—hateful," Julius once more protested.

Baron Kiss seemed to think this over gravely; there was, however, a pleasant smile on his face that encouraged Julius.

"You see, sir, this Martin is like his father—no one has heard anything good of him. It is a bad family, there is much to his discredit."

"I can quite believe that."

"You are very kind, sir, yet I fear that I have cut a poor figure in your eyes—"

"How often must I repeat that I have heard excellent reports of you and much admire your design?"

"I am an utter stranger—"

"I trust that we shall soon be much better acquainted—and remain on good terms—"

"I am flattered," said Julius.

Baron Kiss smiled across at him with a direct stare and slightly inclined his head.

'How important he looks!' thought Julius. 'Certainly like the servant of a great King—or, rather, Emperor. I wonder what opinion he would have of Annabelle.'

Some customers came into the coffee house; cold air followed them before the heavy doors were shut.

"I shall be pleased," said Julius, "when I have taken my degree and am able to go home."

He spoke with great simplicity; not in the least as if he was capable of planning a long revenge on a man who had not injured him at all.

The Baron gave him a glittering glance of appraisal. Julius was good to look at; graceful, yet massive; everything about him was pleasant; his thick yellow hair hung down like a cap, straight and smooth, and his large grey eyes had an expression of utter candour; he seemed serious and in great earnest; he had an air of having something important to do in life.

"We have sat here too long," he said, rising. "I must not neglect my studies."

"Yes, let us be going," agreed Baron Kiss. "I lodge in the Breestraat—perhaps you will walk some of the way with me?"

Julius gave his own address. He did not want to lose sight of the stranger, yet he was not sure that he altogether liked him; something in the manner of Baron Kiss roused a little prickle of pride in the young Scot.

They left the coffee house together.