Part 65 (2/2)

”Of course. I'll send him to No. 20.,--as sweet a room as you'd like to see, and with but five people in it. There's the old receiver; a murderer; a man confined for horse-stealing; and two children convicted of arson.”

”Very good,” said the recorder. ”Whatever he wants, he must have; for the sheriff wishes us to treat him kindly.”

With a heavy heart did Volgyeshy follow the captain to the hall, where Tengelyi was awaiting the close of the discussion.

”It's rather strange that they should leave me without chains,” said the notary, as they descended the steps to the vaults. ”I am in the power of these people; and, I a.s.sure you, they'll give me a taste of what they can do.”

”I'll make an end of it!” cried the advocate. ”I'll go and talk to the sheriff. He cannot mean----”

”He does not mean any thing!” said Tengelyi, with bitterness. ”It's a pity that you should trouble yourself; not only because you'll lose your labour, but also because, in my position, a man gets blunted to smaller sufferings.”

”But the additional straw which----”

”I am no camel, my dear sir.--Stop here. I will not allow you to accompany me farther.” And, turning round, the notary followed his gaoler.

Volgyeshy left the place sadly and reluctantly. At some distance from the council-house he met Kalman Kishlaki, who had just come from Tissaret to inquire for Tengelyi. The news of the notary's confinement in the vaults struck young Kishlaki with angry surprise. He hastened to the place where he had left his horse; and, without giving the poor beast time to rest, he rode back to Tissaret to appeal to Akosh, and, through him, to the sheriff.

CHAP. IV.

The last rays of the setting sun shed their brightness on the roofs of Dustbury, when Tengelyi entered his prison. As he paused on the fatal threshold, his heart ached within him, to think that this was his farewell to the free light and air of heaven. The prison was dark. The dirty panes of gla.s.s in the windows, the rough paper which, pasted over the frames, supplied the want of them in more than one place, added to strong bars of iron which protected the windows, created a dim twilight even in the midst of the gladness and brightness of day; but to those who entered the place in the afternoon, as Tengelyi did, it appeared as dark as night, until their eyes became accustomed to the darkness. This circ.u.mstance, and the murky and fetid air which he breathed, unnerved Tengelyi so much, that he paid no attention to the words of comfort which the turnkey addressed to him. That meritorious functionary, who gloried in the military rank of a corporal, considered every new prisoner in the light of a fresh source of income to himself; and his politeness to the notary was not only unbounded, but even troublesome.

He bustled about the prison; selected the most comfortable place for the new comer; deposited the notary's luggage in what he called a snug corner; and exhorted the other prisoners, rather energetically, to be civil and polite to their guest. He asked Tengelyi whether he had any commands for the night. The notary asked for some bedding.

”We'll find it for you,” said the corporal. ”Of course I must borrow it from some other man; and I don't know what he'll want for it a day; but if you'll pay the damage, we'll find it for you, that's all.”

Upon the notary declaring that he was willing to do so, the corporal continued: ”We find you every thing for your money. You can have meat, brandy, wine, whatever you like, if you've got some money. I say,” added he, in an under tone; ”it would make matters pleasant if you were to send for a drop for these chaps. When they get a new companion, they want to drink his health, you know; and these here fellows are dreadfully put out, because they've been disturbed in their places. You ought to make things pleasant, you know; for they _will_ be mischievous unless you do.”

The notary declared his readiness to ”make things pleasant,” as the corporal called it.

”I say!” cried that person; ”this gentleman is a real gentleman, and nothing but a gentleman. He means to give you wine and brandy to drink his health in; so don't trouble him!”

Saying which, and while several voices expressed their joy, the corporal left the cell and locked the door. Tengelyi sat down on his luggage, and leaning his face on his hand, he gave himself up to his gloomy thoughts; but he had scarcely done so, when a voice from the other side of the place disturbed him.

”Don't be sad, comrade!” croaked the voice. ”This cursed cellar is awfully cold. If you're once sad, you're done for!”

The place was so dark that Tengelyi could not distinguish the speaker's form; but the cracked voice, and the gasping and coughing of the man, showed him to be old and decrepit.

”What's the use of being mum?” continued the voice. ”Take it easy!

People who live together ought to be cronies! Besides, we are much better off here than you or anybody would think--ain't we, boys?”

”Yes! yes!” replied two voices, which evidently proceeded from a man and a boy.

”We're snug and comfortable! There are some drawbacks, you know. My poor Imri here has a whipping on every quarter day, and Pishta is going to lose his head--that's all. It's a bore, you know.”

”What the devil makes you talk of it?” said the man's voice, trembling.

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