Perhaps by this time you have clean forgotten our dear acquaintance, pretty Mariska, the wife of the Prince of Wallachia? Ah, she is happy! Although her husband is far away, her sorrow is forgotten in the near approach of a new joy—the joy of motherhood. There she sits at eventide in the garden of her castle, weaving together dreams of a happy future, and her court ladies by her side are making tiny little garments adorned with bright ribbons. When the peasant women pass by her on the road with their children in their arms, she takes the children from them, presses them to her bosom, kisses, and talks to them. She is the godmother of every new-born infant, and what a tender godmother! Day after day she visits the churches, and before the altar of the Virgin-Mother prays that she also may have her portion of that happiness which is the greatest joy God gives to women. After the battle of St. Gothard it was Prince Ghyka's first thought to send a courier to his wife, bidding her not to be anxious about her husband, for he was alive and would soon be home. This was Mariska's first tidings of the lost battle, and she thanked God for it. What did she care that the battle was lost, that the glory of the Turkish Sultan was cracked beyond repair, so long as her husband remained to her? With him the husbands of all the other poor Wallachian wives were also safe. What joy at the thought of seeing him again! How she watched for her husband from morn till eve, and awoke at night at the slightest noise. If a horse neighed in the street, if she heard a trumpet far away, she fancied that her husband was coming. One night she was aroused by the sound of a light tapping at her bedroom door, and her husband's voice replied to her question of "Who is there?" Her surprise and her joy were so great that in the first moment of awaking she knew not what to do, whereupon her husband impatiently repeated: "Mariska, open the door!" The wife hastened to embrace her husband, admitted him, fell upon his neck, and covered him with kisses; but, perceiving suddenly that the kisses her husband gave her back were quite cold, and that his arm trembled when he embraced her, she looked anxiously at his face—it was grave and full of anxiety. "My husband!" cried the unusually sensitive woman with a shaky voice. "Why do you embrace me—us, so coldly," her downcast eyes seemed to say. The Prince did not fail to notice the expression, and very sadly, and sighing slightly, he said: "So much the worse for me!" His hands, his whole frame shook so in the arms of his wife; and yet the Prince was a muscular as well as a brave man. "What has happened? What is the matter?" asked his wife anxiously. "Nothing," said the Prince, kissing her forehead. "Be quiet. Lie down. I have some business to do which must be done to-night. Then I'll come to you, and we'll talk about things." Mariska took him at his word, and lay down again. But she still trembled—why, she knew not. After a few moments, during which she heard her husband talking in an undertone with someone outside, he came in with his sword in his hand, and after seeming to look for something, he turned to Mariska: "Have you the keys of your treasure-box?" "Yes, they are in my secretaire." The Prince took the keys and withdrew. Mariska breathed again. "Then it is only some money trouble after all," she thought. "Thank God it is no worse. They have lost something in the camp, I suppose, or they are screwing some more tribute out of him." In a short time the Prince again returned, and stood there for a time as if he couldn't make up his mind to speak. At last he said: "Mariska, have you any money?" "Yes, dear!" Mariska hastened to answer, "just ten thousand thalers. Do you want them?" "No, no. But have them all ready to hand, and if you collected your jewels together at the same time you would do well." "What for, my husband?" "Because," stammered Ghyka, "because—we may—and very speedily, too—have to set out on our travels." "Have to travel—in my condition?" asked Mariska, raising a pathetic face up to her husband. That look transfixed the very soul of Ghyka. His wife was in a condition nearer to death than to life. "No, I won't stir a stump," he suddenly cried, beside himself with agitation, striking his sword so violently on the table that it flew from its sheath, "if heaven itself fall on me, I won't go." "For God's sake, my husband, what is the matter?" cried Mariska in her astonishment; whereupon the Prince proudly raised his eyebrows, approached her "Fear nothing. I had an idea in my head; but I have dismissed it, and will think of it no more. Take it that I have asked you nothing." "But your anxiety?" "It has gone already. Ask not the reason, for you would laugh at me for it. Sleep in peace. I also will sleep upon it." The husband caressed and kissed his wife, and his hand trembled no longer, his face was no longer pale, and his lips were no longer so cold as before. But the wife's were now. When her husband tenderly kissed her eyes and bade her sleep, she pretended that she was satisfied; but as soon as he had withdrawn from her room, she arose, put on a dressing-gown, and calling one of her maids, descended with her into the hall, and sent for a faithful old servant of her husband's, who was wont to accompany him everywhere, an old Moldavian courier. "Jova!" she said, "speak the truth! What's the matter with your master? What have you seen and heard?" "It is a great trouble, my lady. God deliver us from it! We only escaped destruction at the battle of St. Gothard by not standing up against the Magyars. But what were we to do? Christian cannot fight against Christian, for then should we be fighting against God. The Turkish army was badly beaten there. And now the Vizier of Buda, that he may wash himself clean, for the Sultan is very wroth, wants to cast the whole blame of the affair on the head of the Prince." "Great Heaven! And what will be the result?" "Well, it would not be a bad thing if your Highnesses were to withdraw somewhere or other for a time to give the Sultan's wrath time to cool." "To my father's, eh? in Wallachia?" "Well, a little farther than that, I should say." "Even there it might not be as well to stay. You would do well to make a journey to Poland." "Do you suppose the danger to be so great then?" "God grant it be not so bad as I think it." "Thank you for your advice, Jova. I will tell my husband quite early in the morning." "My lady, you would do well not to wait till morning." The woman grew pale. "What do you mean?" "I mean that if you would take care of yourselves, you should take carriage this very night, this very hour. I will go before the horses with a lantern, and a courier shall be sent on ahead to have fresh relays of horses awaiting us at every station, so that by the time it begins to grow grey, we shall have left the last hill of this region out of sight." The terrified Princess returned to her bedchamber, and quickly packed up her most valuable things, making all the necessary preparations for a long journey. But the door leading to her husband's room was locked, and she durst not call him, but with an indescribable sinking of heart awaited the endlessly distant dawn. She was unable to close her eyes the whole night. Wearied out in body and soul she rose as soon as she saw the light of dawn, sitting with her swimming head against the window, whence she could look down into the courtyard. Gradually the courtyard awoke to life and noise again, and the hall was peopled with domestics hurrying to and fro. The grooms began walking the horses up and down, the peasant girls with pitchers on their heads were returning from the distant wells, a merry voice began singing a popular ditty in one of the outhouses. All this seemed as strange to the watchful lady as the life and the movement of the outside world seems to one condemned to death who gazes upon it from the window of his cell. "Going a-hunting, eh?" asked Mariska, from whose soul all her terrifying phantoms vanished instantly when her husband embraced her in his vigorous arms. "Yes, I'm going a-hunting. I feel so full of energy that if I don't tumble about somewhere or other I shall burst. Any boar or bear that I come across to-day will have good cause to remember me." "Oh! take care no ill befalls you!" "Befalls me!" cried the Prince, proudly smiting his herculean breast. The lady flung herself on her husband's neck with the confidence of a child, and lifting from his head his saucy bonnet with its eagle plume, which gave him such a brave appearance, and smoothing down his curls, kissed his bonny face, and forgot all her thoughts and visions of the bygone night. The Prince withdrew, and Mariska opened her window and looked out of it to see him mount his horse. While the Prince was going downstairs, a dirty Turkish cavasse in sordid rags entered the courtyard, from which at other times he was wont to fetch letters, and mingled with the ostlers and stablemen without seeming to attract attention. A few moments later the Prince ordered his horse to be brought in a loud resonant voice, whereupon the cavasse immediately came forward, and producing from beneath his dirty dolman a sealed and corded letter, pressed it to his forehead and then handed it to the Prince. The Prince broke open the letter and his face suddenly turned pale; taking off his cap, he bowed low before the cavasse and saluted him. The Prince, with all imaginable deference, then indicated the door of his castle to the cavasse and invited him to enter first; but the Turk with true boorish insolence, signified that the Prince was to lead the way. Suddenly, in an illuminated flash, Mariska guessed the mystery. In the moment of peril, with rare presence of mind, she rushed to her secretaire, where her jewels were. Her first thought was that the cavasse had come for her husband; he must be bribed therefore to connive at his escape. Then she saw hastening through the door the old groom Jova. The face of the ancient servitor was full of fear, and there were tears in his eyes. "Has the cavasse come for my husband, then?" she inquired tremulously. "Yes, my lady," stammered the servant; "why don't you make haste?" "Let us give him money." "He won't take it. What is money to him? If he returns without the Prince his own head will be forfeit." "Merciful God! Then what shall we do?" "My master whispered a few words in my ear, and I fancy I caught their meaning. First of all I must take you off to Transylvania, my lady. Meanwhile my master will remain here with the cavasses and their attendants, who are now in the courtyard. My master will remain with them and spin out the time till he feels pretty sure that we have got well beyond the river Sereth in our carriage. Near there is a bridge over a steep rocky chasm, beneath which the river flows. That bridge we will break down behind us. The Prince will then bring forth his charger Gryllus, on whose back he is wont to take such Mariska perceiving there was no time to be lost, hastily collected her treasures and, assisted by Jova, descended by way of the secret staircase to the chapel and stood there, for a moment, before the image of the Blessed Virgin to pray that her husband might succeed in escaping. Before the chapel door stood a carriage drawn by four muscular stallions. She got into it quickly, and succeeded in escaping by a side-gate. Meanwhile the Prince, with great self-denial, endeavoured to detain his unwelcome guests by all manner of pretexts. First of all he almost compelled them to eat and drink to bursting point, swearing by heaven and earth that he would never allow such precious guests as they were to leave his castle with empty stomachs. Then followed a distribution of gifts. Every individual cavasse got a sword or a beaker and every sword and every beaker had its own peculiar history. So-and-so had worn it, So-and-so had drunk out of it. It had been found here and sent there, and its last owner was such a one, etc., etc. And he artfully interlarded his speech with such sacred and sublime words as "Allah!" "Mahomet!" "the Sultan!" at the mention of each one of which the cavasses felt bound to interrupt him repeatedly with such expressions as "Blessed be his name!" so that despite the insistence of the Turks, it was fully an hour before his horse could be brought forward. At last, however, Gryllus was brought round to the courtyard. The Prince now also would have improved the occasion by telling them a nice interesting tale about this steed of his, but the chief cavasse would give him no peace. The Prince mounted accordingly, and immediately began to complain how very much all the galloping of the last few days had taken it out of him, and begged his escort not to hurry on so as he could scarce sit in his saddle. The chief cavasse, taking him at his word, had the Prince's feet tied fast to his stirrups, so that he might not fall off his horse, sarcastically adding: "If your honour should totter in your saddle, I shall be close beside you, so that you may lean upon me." And indeed the chief cavasse trotted by his side with a drawn sword in his hand; the rest were a horse's head behind them. When they came to the path leading to the bridge the way grew so narrow because of the rocks on both sides that it was as much as two horsemen could do to ride abreast. The Prince already caught sight of the bridge, and though its wooden frame was quite hidden by a projecting tree, a white handkerchief tied to the tree informed him that his carriage with his consort inside it had got across and away, and that the supports had been also cut. At this point he made as if he felt faint and turning to the chief cavasse, said to him, "Come nearer, I want to lean on you!" and upon the cavasse leaning fatuously towards him he dealt him such a fearful blow with his clenched fist that the Turk fell right across his horse. And now: "Onward, my Gryllus!" The gallant steed with a bound forward left the escort some distance behind, and while they dashed after him with a savage howl, he darted with the fleetness of the wind towards the bridge. The Prince sat tied to his horse without either arms or spurs, but the noble charger, as if he felt that his master's life was now entrusted to his safe-keeping, galloped forward with ten-fold energy. Suddenly it became clear to the pursuers that the The charger the same instant lowered its head upon its breast, and, with a well-calculated bound, leaped the empty space between the two sides of the bridge as lightly as a bird. The Prince as he flew through the air held his eagle-plumed cap in his hand, while his black locks fluttered round his bold face. The terrified cavasses drew the reins of their horses tightly lest they should plunge after Gryllus; but one of them, carried away by his maddened steed, would also have made the bold leap but the fore feet of the horse barely grazed the opposite bank, and with a mortal yell it crashed down with its rider among the rocks of the stream below. The Prince meanwhile, beneath the very eyes of the cavasses, loosened the cords from his legs on the opposite shore and also allowed himself time enough to break down the remaining balustrades of the bridge, one by one, and pitch them into the river. Then, remounting his steed, he ambled leisurely off whilst the cavasses gazed after him in helpless fury. A rapid two hours' gallop enabled him to overtake the carriage of his wife, who, according to his directions, had hastened without stopping towards Transylvania with the sole escort of the old horseman. On overtaking the carriage he mounted the old man on his own nag, and sent him on before to Transylvania requesting the Prince to allow him and his wife to pass through Transylvania to the According to the most rigorous calculations their pursuers would either have to go another way, or they might throw another bridge over the Sereth; but, in any case they had a day's clear start of them, which would be quite sufficient to enable them, travelling leisurely, to reach the borders of Transylvania, where the Seraskier of Moldavia had no jurisdiction. In this hope they presently perceived the mountains of Szeklerland rising up before them, and the nearer they came to them the more lightly they felt their hearts beat, regarding the mountain range as a vast city of refuge stretching out before them. They had already struck into that deep-lying road which leads to the Pass of Porgo, which, after winding along the bare hillside, plunges like a serpent into the shady flowering valleys beneath, and every now and then a mountain stream darted along the road beside them; above them the dangerous road looked like a tiny notch in which a heavy wagon crawled slowly along, with lofty rocks apparently tottering to their fall above it in every direction. And here galloping straight towards them, was a horseman in whom the Prince instantly recognised his avant courier. Old Jova reached them in a state of exhaustion, and Gryllus also seemed ready to drop. "Go no further, sir!" cried the terrified servant, "I have come all the way without stopping from SzamosÚjvÁr where the Prince is staying. I laid your request before him. 'For God's sake!' cried the Prince, clasping his hands together, 'don't let your master come here, or he'll ruin the whole lot of us. Olaj Beg has just come hither with the Sultan's command that if the Prince of Moldavia comes here he is to be handed over.'" "Those are our pursuers," he moaned despairingly; "there is nothing for it but to die." "Nay, my master. Over yonder is a mountain path which can only be traversed on foot. With worthy Szeklers or Wallachs as our guides we may get all the way to Poland through the mountains. Why not take refuge there?" "And my wife?" asked the Prince, looking round savagely and biting his lips in his distress; "she cannot accompany me." All this time Mariska had remained, benumbed and speechless, gazing at her husband—her heart, her mind, stood still at these terrible tidings; but when she heard that her husband could be saved without her, she plunged out of the carriage and falling at his feet implored him, sobbing loudly, to fly. "Save yourself," she cried; "do not linger here on my account another instant." "And sacrifice you, my consort, to their fury?" "They will not hurt me, for they do not pursue an innocent woman. God will defend me. You go into Transylvania; there live good friends of mine, whose husbands and fathers are the leading men in the State; there is the heroic Princess, there is the gentle BÉldi with her angel daughter, there is Teleki's daughter Flora—we swore eternal friendship together once—they will mediate for us; and then, too, my rich father will gladly spend his money to spare our blood. And if I must suffer and even die, it will be for you, my husband. Save yourself! In Heaven's name I implore you to depart from me." Ghyka reflected for a moment. "Very well, I will take refuge in order to be able to save you." "Make haste," said Mariska, "I also want to hasten. If die I must—I would prefer to die among Christians, in the sight of my friends and acquaintances. But you go on in front, for if they were to slay you before my eyes, it would need no sword to slay me; my heart would break from sheer despair." "Come, sir, come!" said the old courier, seizing the hand of the Prince and dragging him away by force. Mariska got into the carriage again, and told the coachman to drive on quickly. The Prince allowed himself to be guided by the old courier along the narrow pass, looking back continually so long as the carriage was visible, and mournfully pausing whenever he caught sight of it again from the top of some mountain-ridge. "Come on, sir! come on!" the old servant kept insisting; "when we have reached that mountain summit yonder we shall be able to rest." Ghyka stumbled on as heavily as if the mountain was pressing on his bosom with all its weight. He allowed himself to be led unconsciously among the steep precipices, clinging on to projecting bushes as he went along. God guarded him from falling a hundred times. After half an hour's hard labour they reached the indicated summit, and as the courier helped his master up and they looked around them, Nature's magnificent tableau stood before them; and looking down upon a vast panorama, they saw the tiny winding road by which his wife had gone; and, looking still farther on, he perceived that the carriage had just climbed to the summit of a declivity about half a league off. Ah! that sight gave him back his soul. He followed with his eyes the travelling coach, and as often as the coach ascended a higher hill, it again appeared in sight, and it seemed to him as if all At that instant a loud uproar smote upon his ears. At the foot of the steep mountain, on the summit of which his wife had just come into sight again, he saw a troop of horsemen trotting rapidly along. These were the pursuers. They seemed scarcely larger than ants. Ah! how he would have liked to have trampled those ants to death. "You would pursue her, eh? Then I will stop you." And with these words seizing a large grey rock from among those which were heaped upon the summit, he rolled it down the side of the mountain just as the Turks had reached a narrow defile. With a noise like thunder the huge mass of rock plunged its way down the mountain-side, taking great leaps into the air whenever it encountered any obstacle. Ah! how the galloping rock plunged among the terrified horsemen—only a streak of blood remained in its track, horses and horsemen were equally crushed beneath it. With a second, with a third rock also he greeted them. The cavasses, at their wits' end, fled back, and never stopped till they had clambered up the opposite ridge; they did not feel safe among the plunging rocks below and there they could be seen deliberating how it was possible to reach the road behind their backs. Guessing their intention, the Prince sent his servant to fling a rock down upon them from the hillside beyond, which, as it came clattering down, made the cavasses believe that their enemies were in force, and they climbed higher up still. "There they will remain till evening," thought the Prince to himself; "so they will not overtake Mariska after all." And so it conveniently turned out. The cavasses, after consulting together for a long time fruitlessly as to what road they should take to get out of the Meanwhile, the hunted lady, exchanging her tired horses for four fresh ones in the first Transylvanian village she came to, pressed onwards without stopping. Travelling all night she reached SzamosÚjvÁr in the early morning. The Prince was no longer there. He had migrated in hot haste, they said, before the rising of the sun, to Klausenberg. Mariska did not descend from her carriage, but only changed her horses. Three days and three nights she had already been travelling, without rest, in sickness and despair. And again she must hasten on farther. It was evening when they reached Klausenberg. The coachman, when he saw the towers in the distance, turned round to her with the comforting assurance that they would now be at Klausenberg very shortly. At these words the lady begged the coachman not to go so quickly, and when he lashed up his horses still more vigorously notwithstanding, and cast a look behind him, she also looked through the window at the back of the carriage and saw a band of horsemen galloping after them along the road. So their pursuers were as near to them behind as Klausenberg was in front. There was not a moment's delay. The coachman whipped up the horses, their nostrils steamed, foam fell from their lips, they plunged wildly forward, the pebbles flashed sparks beneath their hoofs, the carriage swayed to and fro on the uneven road, the persecuted lady huddled herself into a corner of the carriage, and prayed to God for deliverance. |