Part 35 (2/2)
Now he became anxious for me too. What could he do with me? Should he let me go home alone at midnight through these cl.u.s.ters of houses in that suburb of ill-repute. Or should he take me miles on his way with him? From there I should have to return alone in any case.
At that moment a carriage approached rapidly, and as it pa.s.sed before us, somebody leaped down upon us from the back seat, and laughing came where we were beside the hedge.
In him we recognized old Marton.
”I have found you after all,” said the old fellow, smiling. ”What a fine time I have had. They really thought I was drunk. I quarrelled with them. That was the 'gaude!' They tugged and pulled, and beat my back with the flat of their sabres: it was something glorious!”
”Well, how did you escape?” I asked, not finding that entertainment to the accompaniment of sabre-blows so glorious.
”When I saw a carriage approaching, I leaped out from their midst and climbed up behind:--nor did they give me a long chase. I soon got away from them.”
The good old man was quite content with the fine amus.e.m.e.nt which he had procured for himself.
”But now we must really say adieu, Master Lorand. Don't go the same way as the carriage went: cut across the road here in the hills to the lower road; you can breakfast at the first inn you come to: you will reach it by dawn. Then go in the direction of the sunrise.”
We embraced each other. We had to part. And who knew for how long?
Marton was nervous. ”Let us go! Let Lorand too hurry on _his_ way.”
Why, ten years is a very long way. By that time we should be growing old.
”Love mother in my place. Then remember your word of honor.” Lorand whispered these words. Then he kissed me and in a few moments had disappeared from my sight down the lower road among the hills.
Who knew when I should see him again?
Marton's laugh awoke me from my reverie.
”You know--” he inquired with a voice that showed his inclination to laugh--”You know ha! ha--you know why I told Master Lorand not to go in the same direction as the carriage?”
”No.”
”Did you not recognize the coachman? It was Moczli.”
”Moczli?”
”Do you know who was inside the carriage?--Guess!--Well, it was Madame.”
”Balnokhazy's wife?”
”The same--with that certain actor.”
”With whose pa.s.sport Lorand was to have eloped?”
”Well if one is on his way to elope--it is all the same:--one must have a companion, if not the one, then the other.'”
It was all a fable to me. But such a mysterious fable that it sent a cold chill all over me.
”But where could they go?”
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