Читать книгу The Village Notary - báró József Eötvös - Страница 6

[2] See Note I.

"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 Angyalbandi[3],—is no less a personage than our old gipsy."

[3] See Note II.

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 not without muttering something about "patibulandus" and "fautores criminum."

"And what happened when you came up with the gipsy?" said Mr. Skinner, again addressing the Pandurs. "Was there any thing very suspicious about the old hang-dog scoundrel?"

"There was indeed!" said Janosh, twirling his moustache. "When we came up with the gipsy,—which was rather late, for the old Moor ran very fast,—Pishta called out to him, at which he appeared frightened."

"Frightened?" said Mr. Skinner. "Frightened, indeed; I'd be glad to know the reason;" and the Clerk, shaking his head, added, "This is indeed suspicious!"

"Begging your lordship's pardon," cried the gipsy, "the gentlemen swore at me, and cocked their pistols, which made me believe that they were robbers."

"Hold your tongue, you cursed black dog! If you say another word, you shall have beating enough to last you a twelvemonth." Having thus mildly admonished the prisoner, Mr. Skinner proceeded with the "benevolum." "Go on, Janosh," said he.

And Janosh went on: "Upon this Pishta asked him, 'Where is Viola?' and he answered, 'I never saw him.'"

"But we saw him in conversation with Viola!" cried the second Pandur. "I said, 'Peti, you are a liar; we have seen you talking to Viola! and unless you confess it, we'll make you dance to a queer kind of music."

"What did the gipsy say to that?" asked the Clerk.

"He said he did not know who the horseman was, which made me angry; for your worship is aware that Peti knows every body. When he saw me angry, he wanted to run away."

"Oh, Goodness gracious!" cried the gipsy; "why should I not run away, when they fell to beating me, and offered to handcuff me?"

"An honest man," said Kenihazy sententiously, "cares not for handcuffs."

"I thought so too," quoth Janosh; "therefore, when we saw that he was indeed a criminal, we hunted him down, bound his hands, and took him to his worship."

"You did your duty," said Mr. Skinner. "Now take the old fox to my house. To-morrow we'll commit him to gaol."

"But," cried Peti, "I assure your worship I am as innocent as the babe unborn!"

"I dare say you are!" said the justice with a bitter sneer. "You don't know Viola,—of course you don't. Who shod Viola's horse? eh?"

"Yes, I do know him," sighed the gipsy; "but is it my fault that I lived in the same village with him Heaven knows how long! for Viola was the best man in the world before he fell into the hands of the County Court. I confess that I did shoe his horse; but what is an old man to do against robbers armed with sticks and pistols?"

"But why do the robbers come to you? Why don't they employ honest smiths?"

"I think," said Peti, quietly, "the robbers prefer coming to my house because I do not live in the village."

"And why do you not live in the village? you scarecrow!"

"Because, my lord, the sheriff will not allow the gipsies to live in the village since Barna Jantzi's house was burned. This is hard enough for an old man like myself."

Every one of these answers was, in Mr. Skinner's eyes, a violation of the judicial dignity. The best of us dislike being mistaken in our opinion as to the merit of our fellow men. We would rather pardon their weaknesses, than be brought to shame by their good qualities. No wonder then that Paul Skinner, whose knowledge of self had given him a very bad idea of his species, would never believe a man to be innocent, whom he once suspected of any crime. It is but natural that, in the present instance, he did all in his power to make the gipsy's guilt manifest.

"Never mind," said he, "I wonder whether you'll give yourself such airs when you are in my house; Viola too will be caught by to-morrow morning. Take him to my house, and don't let him escape,—else—"

Upon this the Pandurs prepared the handcuffs, when Akosh interfered, offering to be bail for the gipsy's appearance. Mr. Skinner, however, was but too happy to have his revenge for the jokes which the young man had made at his expense in the course of the interrogatory.

"You know I am always happy to oblige you," said he, "but in the present instance it is impossible. By to-morrow Viola will be caught, and it will be then found that this gipsy is one of his accomplices."

"If you keep Peti until Viola is caught," said Kalman Kishlaky, "you'll keep the poor fellow to the end of time."

"We'll see that!" sneered the justice. "All I say is, I am informed that he is to be at the Tsharda of Tissaret this very night. He'll find us prepared. We take the landlord and his family, bind them, and lock them up in the cellar, while the Pandurs, disguised as peasants, wait for him at the door. It is all arranged, I tell you."

"Of course always supposing Viola will come," said Akosh.

"This time he will come," replied Mr. Skinner with great dignity. "I have trusty spies."

Old Peti seemed greatly, and even painfully, struck with this intelligence. His brown face exhibited the lively interest he felt in Viola's danger; and his features were all but convulsed when he heard of the preparations for the capture of the robber. It was fortunate for him that his excitement was not remarked by any but Tengelyi; and when Mr. Skinner at length turned his searching eye upon his captive, he saw no trace of old Peti's emotions in his imploring attitude. The Pandurs were in the act of removing their prisoner, when the latter, turning to Akosh, said:—

"I most humbly intreat you, since I must go to prison, to tell my Lord, your father, that old Peti is in gaol, and that it is not my fault if the letters do not come to hand."

"What letters?" said Akosh.

"My Lord's letters, which he gave me," answered the gipsy, producing a packet from beneath the lining of his waistcoat, and handing it to Akosh. "I am my Lord's messenger; and I should not have been too late, for my lady promised me a present for taking these letters to St. Vilmosh before sunset, but for these——gentlemen, who caught me when I entered the forest."

Akosh took the letters, opened them, and, having perused their contents, he handed them to Mr. Skinner, who appeared not a little distressed after reading them.

"You've spoiled it," said Akosh in a low voice. "If you lose your election you have at least one comfort, namely, that you have defeated your own plans. With the three hundred votes from St. Vilmosh against you, you have not even a chance."

"I trust not," murmured Mr. Skinner; "I trust not. The men of St. Vilmosh——"

"Are by no means fond of you; and if they elect you, they do it to please their notary, who is, indeed, on my father's side; but Heaven knows how long! This morning we learned that Bantornyi's party were negotiating with him, but that they could not agree. My father writes these letters, promises to comply with all the notary's demands, and invites the St. Vilmosh gentry to come to him and pledge their votes. So far all is right. But you interfere with your Pandurs, you stop our messenger, and assist our enemies, who will by this time have repented of their stinginess."

"But who could have foreseen that your father would send an important message by a man like Peti?"

"Did not I tell you," said Akosh, evidently amused by the judge's perplexity, "that old Peti is our servant and messenger. Who would ever have thought of the sheriff's quick-footed gipsy being taken up and handcuffed?"

"It is true," said Mr. Skinner, despondingly. "But why didn't he speak?—why not mention the letters? Come here, you d—— old rascal!" thundered the judge, who was one of those amiable men whose rage reaches the boiling point at a minute's notice, and whose words are most offensive when they ought to be most conciliating. "You dog! why did you not say that you were sent by the sheriff? I have a mind to give you two dozen—I have!"

The gipsy was aware of the favourable change in his prospects, and he replied, with considerable coolness, that the cruel treatment of the Pandurs had caused him to forget all about it; "besides," added he, "my lady told me not to show the letters to any one; and, moreover, I was sure my innocence would come to light."

"Your innocence! it is shocking," cried the justice, holding up his hands; "the fellow has a letter from the sheriff in his pocket, and the blockhead relies on his innocence! Here are your letters;—go!—run!—and woe to you if the letters come too late to St. Vilmosh!"

The gipsy nodded his head, and hastened in the direction of St. Vilmosh! He was scarcely gone, when Mr. Skinner vented his passion upon the Pandurs. He expressed his astonishment, intermixed with curses, at the impertinence of these worthy men for having caught the sheriff's gipsy; and when they appealed to Mr. Kenihazy, all the comfort they received was a gentle hint of certain misgivings that gentleman entertained respecting their being suffered to go at large. Akosh and the rest of the company were amused with Mr. Skinner's violence and the agility of the gipsy, who every now and then looked back, and ran the quicker afterwards. The notary and the clergyman remained serious: and when the party had left, and neither the merry laugh of Akosh nor Skinner's ever-ready curses fell upon their ear, Tengelyi turned to his friend, saying, "Do you still think that hare-hunting is the cruellest pastime of these gentlemen?"

"No, indeed!" sighed Vandory; "and to think that these men are public functionaries, and that the weal and woe of thousands is in their hands!"

"Ha!" cried Tengelyi, turning round, and directing the attention of his friend to a dark point which moved over the vast expanse of the heath, "is not that our gipsy?"

"Yes; but he runs rather in a line with us, instead of to St. Vilmosh."

"So it seems," said Tengelyi, "and for once the sheriff's orders will not be obeyed. Perhaps he is bribed by the other party; but who knows? Skinner may be right, and Peti is leagued with Viola. In that case he is now on his way to inform the outlaw of what the judge most wisely communicated to him, for I am sure that gipsy does not run so fast without good cause. But what does it matter to us?"

And the two friends returned to the village.