Part 66 (1/2)

”Never you mind! Who knows but you'll get off for all that? Why, you were not even twenty when you did for that Slowak; by the same token, you were a jacka.s.s to kill that fellow of all others for the miserable booty of ninepence which you found in his pockets. As for me, I've twice been under sentence of death, and you see I'm none the worse for it. But if they _will_ chop your head off, why, it's some comfort to think that they hanged your father before you. Never mind, boy, you're as likely to dance on my grave as I am on yours! When a man has lived up to ninety-three years----”

”Three and ninety years!” sighed the notary, with a shudder.

”Three and ninety years!” continued the old man, with his usual cough.

”It's a good old age, you know; and fifty-four years of that time I've lived in gaol, and I'm none the worse for it; if the Lord keeps me alive, they'll discharge me on St. Stephen's day that's coming.”

”Fifty-four years?” cried the notary.

”Ay! it's a good long time, ain't it? I've been in gaol for stealing horses and other cattle, and I was a party to a murder. Twice they locked me up for arson, but, d--n me, I had no hand in it in either case; and this time I'm caged because people _will_ have it that I was the head man in the Pasht robbery--you know three men happened to be killed on the occasion. Never mind, I'm to be a free man on St.

Stephen's day; and, after all, though _I_ say it who should not, their wors.h.i.+ps were not far out when they brought that business home to me!”

”I say, father, you're an out-and-outer!” said the boyish voice. ”Come, tell us of the Jew that lost his life!”

”Tell you, indeed, you abortion!” said the old man. ”Don't you hear me coughing. Ask Pishta! he'll tell you how he diddled that Slowak.”

”D--n Pishta! he doesn't tell stories half so well as you do, father; it gives one an appet.i.te for the business to hear you.”

”Never mind, lad! you'll have your share of it, I warrant you!” laughed the old man. ”The devil shall take me by ounces, if you don't kill a man before you've got a beard to your chin.”

”I'll kill any one! I'll drink blood! Let me once get out of this place, and you'll see!”

”Will you, indeed! You'll get the shakes before you do it, my boy.”

”Drat the shakes! I'd wish you to see me at work. I'm not the coward I was when they brought me here. Wasn't I a fine fellow, father? A knife made me _funky_. But your fine stories have set me up. I can't help dreaming of the old Jew whom they hanged in the forest. Let me once get an axe in my hand! I shan't use it for woodcutting, that's all.”

”Bravo!” cried the old man. ”You're a bold fellow, you are! By the bye, what's the other chap about?”

”He's asleep!”

”Is he? then box his ears, and wake him!”

And turning to Tengelyi, he added, ”That boy Imri is a whapper, sir; but the other chap's a scurvy rat!”

A loud wailing cry, and the entreaties of the other child, showed that Imri had obeyed his patron's command; and though the notary was resolved not to enter into any conversation with his fellow-prisoners, that cry of pain overcame his resolution.

”Why don't you let the poor boy sleep?” said he.

”You leave my children alone, sir!” said the old robber, rather fiercely. ”They ought to fight. It does them good, you know. Makes them hard, sir, as hard as nails! That little fellow, Imri, is a whapper, sir. That boy'll do me honour, that boy will; but that sleepy cove in the corner will never come to any thing. I've given them a year's schooling, sir, and that's why I ought to know them.”

”You would do better to think of your death-bed, old man. You are driving these children to ruin.”

”Ruin be d--d! I'll make men of them. I'll give them reason to be grateful to their wors.h.i.+ps for locking them up with me. I'll give them a bit of education, you know.”

At this moment the turnkey opened the outer gate of the prison, and brought a large lamp, which he placed in the hall, so as to economise its light for three of the cells. The reddish glare of the lamp showed the notary the place to which his misfortune, and the malice of his enemies, had brought him. It was a perfect h.e.l.l of sweating walls, half-rotten straw, filth, chains, and iron bars. The old prisoner, to whom Tengelyi had spoken, squatted in a corner, with his head leaning on his knees, so as to conceal his features. But in the intervals of the conversation, he raised his head, and showed a countenance on which the crimes of nearly a century had set their mark. His was one of those faces which, once seen, are always remembered, and the very turnkey felt some awe when he approached him. His white beard, which covered the lower half of his face, the thin long silvery locks which descended to his shoulders, and his sunken eyes and temples, showed that he had reached an age which few men attain, and the sight of which is wont to fill us with respect, or at least with pity. It was not so in the case of this man. The keen look of his eyes under his bushy eyebrows impressed you with a conviction that this patriarch of the prison, though he might want the power, did not lack the will to commit any crime; and when his trembling and shrivelled hands were stretched forth towards you, it was not pity, but a feeling of comfort you had in thinking, that these hands had lost the strength to grasp the dagger or aim the blow.

At the old man's feet lay a boy of fourteen, with a withered and oldish face. His cheeks were pale, his forehead wrinkled, and his eyes dull and glazed, except when the old man called him by his name, or stroked his hair with a trembling hand. It was then that some feeling was expressed in that haggard face. It was then that the boy's eyes gleamed in wild exultation. It was the yearning of the human heart for kindness, and its grat.i.tude even to the depraved. The other boy, whose wailings induced Tengelyi to speak, had crept up to the iron railings of the door, and there he stood gazing at the light of the lamp. When the flame burnt clear and bright, the boy clapped his hands and laughed; but when it burnt low, he said he was sure the lamp was neglected, and that it would go out, as it did the other day.

”If I could but creep through the bars!” sighed he. ”If they'd only let me trim it! I'd give it a large wick and plenty of oil; and I'd make it burn with a red flame, and a yellow flame, and a blue flame! Look, look!

what a bright jet of fire! Grow! grow little flame! rise to the house-top, and s.h.i.+ne over the town and warm it! Oh, see how splendid!”