I ventured another guess, and answered:
"Each wagered he could drink the other under the table."
"Ha, ha, ha! Right--right!" shouted his grace, embracing and kissing me. "That"s what we wagered--and the devil fly away with me if I don"t match you again this very moment! Ho, there, fetch the bratina."
The bratina is a huge golden beaker that holds two quarts. This was brought to me, filled with Hegyaljaner wine.
Now, I had fasted for many hours, and was both hungry and thirsty, so that it did not require much of an effort on my part to empty the bratina at a draught--to the supernaculum!
"The devil fetch me!" roared the jovial duke. "If I had not recognized you already, I should know you now!"
I had no difficulty drinking his grace under the table; and from that hour I became an important member of his household.
CHAPTER II.
PERSIDA.
"_Crimen falsi_," dictated the chair to the notary.
"But"--the prince made haste to add--"But, _immediatum_, not _spontaneum_. The accused was led to the indirect committal of the act by the instructions of Father Agapitus; the real criminal is a Jew--it is he who deserves the stake. Therefore, the prisoner"s transgression may be remitted."
"If this continues," grumblingly commented the chair, "the prisoner will surely talk himself out of every one of his crimes.
Well"--addressing himself to the accused--"I don"t know what to call you, but for the time being Zdenko Kochanovszki, continue."
Under that name, your honor, resumed Hugo, I lived the most memorable days of my life. I was treated by the duke as a good comrade and familiar friend. We hunted together for days in the ducal forests slaying the wild bulls and bears by the hundreds; and when we returned to the palace the merry-making began. There would be feasting and drinking; the most enchanting music by a band of Bohemian players; the court-fools would amuse us with all sorts of buffoonery; and when any of the jovial company succ.u.mbed to the beaker and tumbled under the table the attendants carried them to bed. Not infrequently it happened that his grace and myself would be the only two left at the table--we being able to stand more than the others.
At times, too, I would entertain the company by relating the most wonderful tales of my pilgrimage, which were listened to with close attention.
In all this time I had not seen a single woman about the palace.
The grand-d.u.c.h.ess was absent on a pilgrimage to Berdiczov, in fulfillment of a vow. I learned from one of the guests that the duke"s marriage had not been blessed with an heir, and this was why the d.u.c.h.ess had undertaken the devout journey. As she knew she should be absent several weeks, she took with her all the women servants, as well as her ladies-in-waiting--from which I guessed the fair Persida to be a shrewd, as well as a beautiful woman.
I waited her grace"s return with no little apprehension, for, with the exception of the grand duke himself, every one about the palace knew that Zdenko Kochanovszki had been a devoted admirer of the lady before her marriage. Indeed, it was said that her marriage to the rich old duke had sent the youthful Zdenko on his pilgrimage.
That all this was unknown to his grace was certain, else the reception accorded to me, whom he believed to be his former boon companion, would not have been so cordial.
There would be some sport when the lady returned home.
Would she, too, see in me her quondam admirer? What would happen to me if the eyes of a loving woman should prove more keen than those of her husband? What would be the result if she saw through my masquerade? If she should say: "Away with this rogue--he is a deceiver! I know what dwells in the eyes of the true Zdenko, for I have looked into them. These are not Zdenko"s eyes."
And again: what would happen if she should believe me to be her one-time lover? and question me as her husband had done: "Do you remember the promise we gave to each other?" And, suppose I should be as lucky in guessing the reply as before!
The duke spoke boastfully of his dragoon"s victory over the haidemaken before the walls of Berdiczov monastery. The robbers had been mowed down like grain; only the leader and a few of his men had escaped by the skin of their teeth; their field-gun had been captured and the gunner hanged on one of the tallest trees--your honors may guess that I took good care not to deny this statement!
I praised the duke"s heroism, and listened attentively to his tales about the terrible haidemaken, as if I had never heard of them before.
At last, one fine day, the pilgrims returned from Berdiczov; and the joyous sound of women"s voices was heard in the palace. Master and man hastened to welcome the fair ones. I alone had no one to greet.
I was very curious to see what manner of woman the beautiful Persida might be--she for whose sake the owner of my name had gone out into the wide world.
The duke hastened to a.s.sist her from the carriage on the arrival of the caravan. She was very graceful--tall, with a pale face, large, dark languishing eyes, full red lips, and coal black hair.
When her spouse pressed his moist moustache to her lips, she made a grimace. He was overjoyed at her return. The duke"s guests and attendants welcomed the returned d.u.c.h.ess, each in their own fashion; the former pressed their lips to her hand; the latter kissed the hem of her robe. I did not want my first meeting with her grace to take place in the presence of the entire household; but the duke called me from the hall, where I had withdrawn, and said:
"See here, my love, who is this? Look at him, and tell me if you recognize the lad?"
I was afraid to meet the glance which scrutinized my features--I felt that I should be compelled to blurt out:
"I am Baran, gunner of the haidemaken."
"You don"t recognize him, do you?" again said the duke. "I knew you wouldn"t. "Tis our long absent comrade Zdenko Kochanovszki."
For one single instant I saw into that woman"s soul. At mention of my name, a sudden light leapt into her eyes--a world of pa.s.sion flamed for one brief instant.
Her husband had not seen it, only I. Then the beautiful eyes became cold again, and indifferent, and the queenly head was gravely bent in recognition of an old acquaintance, the slender fingers were extended for the formal kiss of greeting.
She did not vouchsafe another glance toward me, but turned toward the duke, laid her hand on his arm, and said with sudden friendliness:
"_Comment vous portez-vous, mon pet.i.t drole?_"
Although her grace took no further notice of me, I saw my way clear for the future.
With the return of the d.u.c.h.ess the household regulations underwent a complete change. The noisy tipplers received their _conge_; the nightly carousals came to an end. Quite a different mode of life had been prescribed by the prior of the monastery for the ducal pair, if they wished his blessing to have the desired effect. All fast days were to be strictly observed; they might eat only sparingly of the plainest food--only of those dishes which conduce to strength: snails, frogs, and those vegetables which grow under ground.
This sort of diet, as you may guess, was not suited to the palates of the duke"s guests. One after another took his departure, until none remained but myself; and I had become indispensable to his grace, because of my ability to amuse him with adventurous tales.
Every evening the d.u.c.h.ess would send for me to read aloud in a religious book, about saints, until the duke would become sleepy. Her grace continued to treat me with extreme reserve; she never lifted her eyes to mine when she spoke to me, but always kept them lowered, as if she were addressing her remarks to my boots.
She appeared to be extraordinarily pious; she would repeat a long prayer before and at the end of every meal. She never called me by name--always "Sir." Indeed, the only time she unbent from her frigid reserve, was, when she patted her husband"s fat, bearded cheek, or pulled his moustache, to restore him to a good humor; but these occasions were rare.
Before the duke retired for the night, the d.u.c.h.ess prepared with her own fair hands his slumber draught, the recipe for which she had received from the prior of Berdiczov monastery. It was composed of all sorts of costly spices--an enumeration of which I may repeat later, should I take up the trade of concocting various potations, the efficacy of which may not be doubted.
The chief ingredient of the duke"s sleeping potion was hot, red wine; and he was wont to smack his lips and exclaim after he had emptied the gla.s.s:
"Ah!--my love, that has quite rejuvenated me." He would spring lightly as a youth from his arm-chair, take his wife"s hand, and gallantly conduct her to their private chambers, leaving me to the solitary perusal of the pious volume--to learn what had happened to St.
Genevieve, when Attila"s Huns besieged Paris.
One evening we were engaged as usual with our instructive reading. The duke and his wife were seated in front of the fire-place; I, as always, occupied a chair at the table on which rested the ponderous "History of the Saints and Martyrs." I had been reading for an hour and more, how St. Genevieve had relieved Paris a second time from famine, when the duke suddenly interrupted to say he was so thirsty he must beg that his nightly potion be given to him at once. His wife prepared it for him; but, instead of rising to retire to his own rooms as usual, after he had emptied the gla.s.s, he settled himself back in his chair, clasped his hands over his paunch, and in a few minutes his powerful snoring again interrupted the reading.
The d.u.c.h.ess looked at him for several moments with an indescribable expression on her lovely face--a mixture of loathing, rage, and contempt; then, she sprang to her feet, came swiftly toward the table where I was sitting, and gave it so vigorous a thrust with her foot that it toppled over and fell, together with the Saints and Martyrs, to the floor with a loud noise. His grace did not stir; his snores continued with unabated vigor.
Before I had recovered from my astonishment at her grace"s behavior, she seated herself on my knee and flung her arms around my neck: