St. Peter's Umbrella Part 8

The master is not really so bad, it is half imagination; but he is so nervous we must not excite him, so go in and tell him the telegram is sent."

He was quieter after that, and began to reckon at what time the boy would arrive, and decided he might be there by the afternoon of the second day.

He slept quietly all night, and got up the next morning very pale and weak, but went about putting things straight and turning out drawers.

"It is unnecessary to send the telegram," thought Anna to herself. "He seems nearly himself again, and will be all right in a day or two."

The whole day he pottered about, and in the afternoon shut himself up in his study and drank a small bottle of Tokay wine, and wrote a great deal. Anna only went in once to see if he wanted anything. No, he wanted nothing.

"Have you any pain?"

"My side hurts me, just where the man with the scythe touched me. There is something wrong inside."

"Does it hurt very much?"

"Yes, very much!"

"Shall I send for a doctor?"

"No."

In the evening he sent for his lawyer, Janos Sztolarik. He was quite lively when he came, made him sit down, and sent for another bottle of Tokay.

"The February vintage, Anna," he called after her.

The wine had been left him by his father, and dated from the year when there had been two vintages in Tokay in twelve months, one in February, and one in October. Only kings can drink the like of it. On account of the mildness of the winter the vines had been left uncovered, had flowered and borne fruit, so that in February they were able to have a vintage, and you can imagine what a flavor those grapes had. There was never anything like it before nor after. Old Gregorics's father used to call it the "Life-giver," and often said:

"If a man intending to commit suicide were to drink a thimbleful of it beforehand, he would, if unmarried, go and look up a 'best man,' or, if married, would go and sue for a divorce; but kill himself he would not."

The two friends drank to each other's health, and Gregorics smacked his lips.

"It's devilish good," he said.

Then he gave the lawyer a sealed packet.

"In that you will find my will," he said. "I sent for you in order to give it you."

He rubbed his hands and smiled.

"There will be some surprises in that."

"Why are you in such a hurry with it? There is plenty of time," said Sztolarik, taking the packet.

Gregorics smiled.

"I know more about that than you, Sztolarik. But take a drop more, and don't let us talk of death. And now I'll tell you how my father got this wine. Well, he was a very sly customer, and if he couldn't get a thing by fair means, he got it by foul, and I have inherited some of his slyness from him. But mine is not the genuine article; however, that does not matter. In Zemplin there lived a very, very rich man, a count, and an a.s.s into the bargain; at least he was a good-hearted man, and liked to give pleasure to others, thus proving that he was an a.s.s. My father used to buy his wine of him, and if they had struck a good bargain the count used to give him a gla.s.s of this nectar. Being an a.s.siduous wine merchant, of course my father was always worrying him to sell him some of the wine, but the count would not hear of it, and said, 'The Emperor Ferdinand has not enough money to buy it!' Well, once when they were drinking a small gla.s.s of the 'Life-giver,' my father began sighing deeply: 'If my poor wife could only drink a thimbleful of this every day for two months, I am sure she would get quite well again.'

Upon which the count's heart softened, and he called up his major-domo and said: 'Fill Mr. Gregorics's cask with the "Life-giver."' A few days later several visitors arrived at the castle, and the count ordered some of the wine to be brought. 'There is none left, sir,' said the butler.

'Why, what has become of it?' asked the count. 'Mr. Gregorics took it with him, there was not even enough to fill his cask!' It was true, for my father had ordered an enormous cask of Mr. Pivak (old Pivak is still alive and remembers the whole story), took the cask in a cart to Zemplin, and, after filling it with the wine, brought it home. Not bad, was it? Drink another gla.s.s before you go, Sztolarik."

When the lawyer had gone, Gregorics called his man-servant in.

"Go at once to the ironmonger's and buy a large caldron; then find me two masons and bring them here; but don't speak to a soul about it."

Now that was Matyko's weak point, but if he had not been told to hold his tongue he might have managed to do so later on, when the opportunity for speaking came.

"Off you go, and mind you are back in double quick time!"

Before dark the masons had arrived, and the caldron too. Gregorics took the two men into his room, and carefully shut the door.

"Can you keep silence?" he asked.

The masons looked at each other surprised, and the elder one answered.

"Why, of course we can keep silence, that is the first thing a man does on his arrival in this world."

"Yes, until he has learnt to talk," answered Gregorics.

"And even afterward you can make the trial if it is worth your while,"

said the younger man slyly.

"It will be worth your while, for you shall have fifty florins each if you will make a hole in a wall large enough to put this caldron in, and then close it again so that no one can see where it was put."

"Is that all?"

"That is all. But besides that you will receive fifty florins each from the owner of this house every year, as long as you keep silence."

The masons again exchanged glances, and the elder said:

"We will do it. Where is it to be done?"

"I will show you."

Gregorics took down a rusty key from a nail, and went out with the men into the courtyard.

"Now follow me," he said, and led them through the garden to an orchard, in which was a small house built of stone. The most delicious apples grew here, and that had induced old Gregorics to buy the orchard and house from the widow of the clergyman; he had made a present of both to little Gyuri, and it was entered in his name. When the boy was at home he used to study there with Kupeczky, but since he left it had been quite deserted.

Gregorics led the masons to this little house, and showed them the wall in which he wished an opening made large enough to receive the caldron, and told them when they were ready to come and tell him, as he wished to be present when they walled it in. By midnight the hole was ready, and the masons came and tapped at the window. Gregorics let them in, and they saw the caldron in the middle of the room. The top was covered with sawdust, so that they could not see what was in it, but it was so heavy the two masons could hardly carry it. Gregorics followed them step for step, and did not move until they had built up the wall again.

"If you have it whitewashed to-morrow, sir, no one will find the place."

"I am quite satisfied with the work," said Gregorics. "Here is the promised reward, and now you may go."

The elder of the two masons was surprised at being let off so easily.

"I've heard and read of this sort of thing," he said, "but they did things differently then. They used to put the masons' eyes out, so that even they could not find the place again, but of course they got a hundred times as much as we do."

"Ah, that was in the good old times," sighed the other.

Gregorics troubled his head no more about them, but closed the heavy oaken door of the house, and went home to bed.