The Baron's Sons Part 5

On reaching the landing his attention was arrested by a strange scene in the pa.s.sageway leading to one of the guest-chambers. An old gentleman with a smooth face, and wearing a peasant's cloak, was vociferating wrathfully before three waiters and a chambermaid. Both the waiters and the chambermaid were exerting themselves with every demonstration of respect to gratify his slightest wish, which only increased the old gentleman's anger, and caused him to renew his scolding, now in Hungarian, and now in Latin. Catching sight of the hussar, who had been brought to a standstill by the clamour, he called to him in Hungarian--feeling sure that no hussar could be of any other nationality--and begged his a.s.sistance.

"My dear Captain," he cried, "do have the goodness to come here, and explain matters to these hyperboreans, who seem to understand no language that I can speak."

The officer approached, and perceived that his interlocutor was, to all appearances, a minister of the gospel.

"Well, reverend father, what is the trouble?" he asked.

"Why, you see," explained the other, "my pa.s.sport describes me rightly enough, in Latin, as _verbi divini minister_, that is, a preacher of G.o.d's word. Well, now, when it came my turn to show my papers to the custom-house officer, they all began to salute me, as if I had been a minister of state, calling me 'your Excellency,' and paying me every sort of compliment, right and left,--porters, cab-drivers, waiters, and all. I thought they would kiss the ground I stood on before I was at last shown up to this splendid apartment. Now this style is more than I can afford. I am only a poor pastor, and I have come to Vienna not for pleasure, but forced by necessity. Pray explain matters for me to these people. I can't speak German, it is never used at home among our people, and no one here seems to understand any other language."

The hussar officer smiled.

"Good father," he asked, "what languages do you speak?"

"Well," was the reply, "I can speak Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and, in case of need, some Arabic."

"They will hardly be of any service here," rejoined the other, laughing. Then, turning to the head waiter, he asked him a question in a low tone, to which the servant replied by winking mysteriously and pointing upward.

"Well, reverend father," said the hussar to the poor priest, "you go into your room now, and in a quarter of an hour, I will return and arrange everything for you. Just now I am in haste, as some one is waiting for me."

"But, I beg to a.s.sure you, my business is even more pressing than yours," was the other's reply, as he seized the young officer's sword-ta.s.sel to prevent his escape. "If I so much as set foot in this state apartment, it will cost me five florins at least."

"But, sir," explained the other, apologetically, "my affair is far more important. Five comrades of mine are expecting me in the room above, and one of them is to fight with me. I really cannot wait."

The priest was so startled by this announcement that he dropped the sword-ta.s.sel.

"What!" he exclaimed, "you are on your way to a duel? Pray tell me the reason of such a piece of folly."

But the young man only pressed his hand with a smile. "You wait here quietly till I come back," said he. "I shall not be gone long."

"Supposing you are slain?" the old gentleman called after him, in great anxiety.

"I'll look out for that," replied the hussar, as he sprang blithely up the stairs, clinking his spurs as he went.

The old priest was forced to take possession of the splendid apartment, while the whole retinue of servants still persisted in honouring him with the t.i.tle, "your Excellency."

"This is fine, to be sure," said the good man to himself, as he surveyed his surroundings. "Silk bed-curtains, porcelain stove--why, I shall have to pay five florins a day, if not six. And then all the good-for-nothing servants! One brings my valise, another a pitcher of water, a third the bootjack, and each one counts on receiving a good big fee from 'his Excellency.' I shall be expected to pay for the extra polish on the floor, too."

Thus grumbling and scolding, and estimating how much all this splendour would probably cost him in the end, the priest suddenly heard a stamping of feet, and a clas.h.i.+ng of swords in the room above.

The duellists were surely at it over his very head. Now here, now there, he heard the heavy footsteps, accompanied by the ringing of steel against steel. For five or six minutes the sounds continued, the poor parson meanwhile in great perplexity as to what course he ought to pursue. He felt half inclined to open the window and call for help, but immediately bethought himself that he might be arrested by the police for disturbing the peace. Then it occurred to him to run up-stairs, throw himself between the combatants, and deliver them a sermon on the text (Matt. 26: 52): "Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword."

But while he was still debating the matter the tumult over his head subsided, and in a few minutes he heard steps approaching his door, which opened and admitted, to his great relief, the young hussar officer, safe and sound.

The priest ran to him and felt of his arms and breast, to make sure that he had actually received no injury. "Aren't you hurt, then, in the least?" he inquired.

"Of course not, good father," replied the other.

"But did you slay your opponent?"

"Oh, I scratched him a little on the cheek."

"And is he not in great pain?" asked the kind-hearted pastor, with much concern.

"Not at all; he is as pleased over his wound as a boy with a new jacket."

But the minister of the gospel found the matter no subject for light treatment. "How, pray, can you gentlemen indulge in such unchristian practices?" he asked, earnestly. "What motive can you possibly have?"

"My dear sir," returned the other, "have you ever heard the story of the two officers who fought a duel because one of them maintained that he had picked sardines from a tree in Italy, and the other refused to believe him? So they fought it out, and it was only after the first had received a slash across the face that he remembered,--'Ah, yes, quite right; they were not sardines, after all, but capers.' So here you may imagine some such cause as that."

"And you fought for such a trifle!" exclaimed the pastor.

"Yes, something of the sort, if I remember rightly. You see, I have just joined the regiment after serving in the life-guard, and I have been promoted captain; so I must fight with a dozen comrades in succession, until they either cut me to pieces or learn to endure my presence among them. That is the custom. But let us discuss your affairs now. You said you were here on urgent business; pray tell me its nature."

"Certainly," responded the other; "if you will have the kindness to hear me, I shall be most grateful. I am an entire stranger in the city and have no one to render me any a.s.sistance. I have been summoned hither _ad audiendum verb.u.m_, having had some differences with the landlord of the village where I am settled as pastor. You must first understand that the squire was a great oligarch, while I am nothing but a poor country parson. There was discord between our families, arising from the squire's having a young cavalier as his eldest son and my having a pretty daughter. I refused to listen to certain proposals on the part of the squire, and the upshot was that the son was sent away to Russia. That, however, did not greatly concern me.

But not long afterward the squire departed this life and was buried with all the pomp of the Church. I made the prayer at the grave, and it is true, I said some hard things; but what I said was for G.o.d's ear, not for man's. And now, because of that prayer of mine to Heaven, I am called to account by the mighty ones of this earth. Already I have appeared before the consistory and before the county court, accused of impiety and sedition. I am expelled from my pastorate, and yet they are not content; they summon me hither, I know not before whom, to answer the charge of _lese-majeste_. But see here and judge for yourself; I have the text of the prayer in my pocket. Read it and see whether it contains a single word by which I have made myself guilty of any such offence."

The old man's lips trembled as he spoke, and his eyes filled with tears. The hussar took the writing from his hand and read it through, the other watching meanwhile every line of the young man's face, to see what impression the perusal would make on him.

"Well, sir, what do you say to it?" he asked when the young officer had finished reading. "Would you condemn me for anything in that prayer?"

The other folded the paper and returned it to the old man. "I should not condemn you," he replied gently. He appeared to be much moved.

"Now may G.o.d bless you for those words!" exclaimed the priest. "Would that you were my judge!"

And, indeed, he was his judge at that moment; for he was no other than Richard Baradlay, the son of him over whose body the prayer had been offered. "But let me give your Reverence a piece of advice," added the young man. "First, stay here quietly in your room until you are summoned. Visit no one and make your complaint to no one. You cannot be found guilty of the offence charged against you. But if you should undertake to defend yourself, I could not answer for the consequences. Just stay here in your room, and if you are sent for, answer the summons. Go whither you are called, and hear in silence what is said to you. When that is over, bow yourself out and hasten back to your hotel without saying a word to any one on the way or answering a single question."

"But I shall be taken for a blockhead," objected the other.

"No, believe me, silence is a pa.s.sport that will carry a man half-way around the world."

"Very well, I will do as you direct; only I hope the process will be brief. The Vienna air is costly to breathe."

"Don't worry in the least about that, reverend father. If some one has compelled you to make the journey against your will, you may be sure he will pay your score."

The old man wondered not a little at these words, and would gladly have inquired who the unknown "some one" was.

"But now my engagements call me away," concluded the young officer, and he took his leave before the other could question him further.

Soon after he had gone a waiter appeared with coffee, which, in spite of the old priest's protestations that he never took any breakfast and was in general a very light eater, the German domestic insisted on leaving upon the table. At length, as the coffee was there on his hands, the reverend gentleman proceeded to drink it in G.o.d's name; for it would have to be paid for in any case. The warm breakfast did him good. The servant now appeared, to carry away the breakfast service.

The old gentleman had learned one German word on his journey, and he hastened to make use of it.

"Pay?" he said inquiringly, producing from the depths of his pocket a long knit purse, a birthday present from his daughter, in which his scanty savings were carefully h.o.a.rded. He wished to settle at once for his breakfast, both because it troubled him to be in debt for even an hour, and also that he might gain some idea from this first payment how much his total daily expenses would probably be.

Great was his surprise, however, when the waiter, smiling politely and waving aside the offered purse, a.s.sured him that the breakfast was already paid for.

"So that young man was right, after all," said the good priest to himself. "Why didn't I ask him his name? But who can it be that is paying my bills?"

The unknown benefactor was, of course, none other than Richard Baradlay, who, on leaving the hotel, had handed the head waiter two ducats and bidden him provide for all the old gentleman's wants, adding that he, Baradlay, would pay the bill. After that the young officer repaired to the military riding school and exercised for an hour in vaulting, fencing on horseback, breaking a lance or two, and mastering a vicious horse. Then he went to walk for an hour around the fortifications, looked at all the pretty faces he met, and at length, toward noon, returned to his quarters. He kept bachelor's hall on the fourth floor, occupying a sitting-room and a bedroom, while across the pa.s.sageway was a little room for his servant, and a diminutive kitchen.

His domestic was an old hussar who answered to the name of Paul, and who was rather more inclined to command his master than to receive orders from him. He was sixty years old and more, and still a private and a bachelor. He was serving out his fourth enlistment and wore on his breast the cross given to the veterans of the Napoleonic wars.