Part 39 (2/2)

The rendezvous took place in her apartments. Here I had the opportunity of making the acquaintance of my fellow-witness, the major of dragoons, and a very genial man he was. He was a good copy of a genuine Hungarian lord-lieutenant of a county. Nothing but cordial hilarity and jovial merriment, you would never have taken him for a soldier, least of all for an Austrian soldier. He blackguarded the ”Bach[100]-hussars,” but had nothing but praise for the Hungarians. He had not been shut up in Temesvar like the lieutenant, but had been fighting in Italy, and had only just come hither. He had the habit of seasoning his discourse with Hungarian proverbs and pithy aphorisms. He introduced his wife to me also. ”My domestic dragon,” he said; he could not dispense with his jesting even then. The lady, however, clearly did not belong to the dragon species. On the contrary, she was a remarkably pleasant woman, in the prime of life, with really handsome features. One thing I will say of her: when once she began to talk she never knew when to leave off.

Her conversation knew neither rest nor pause. In my eyes, however, this is an advantage, for it is my invariable practice to entertain my lady friends by letting them talk to their hearts' content, while I listen.

[Footnote 100: The reactionary Austrian Minister who was mainly responsible for the attempted denationalization of Hungary.--TR.]

When the bride was still in her boudoir, the major's lady made me thoroughly acquainted with the family affairs of all the officers' wives in the regiment. When the bride appeared in all her bridal glory, accompanied by the bridegroom, who held his helmet in one hand and a gigantic bouquet of camellias in the other, the exchange of notes between the witness of the bridegroom and the witness of the bride took place with all the usual formalities.

Towards me the major acted with the studied courtesy of a high Government official, but towards the lieutenant he acted the part of a senior officer from beginning to end. He ordered him about as if he were sitting on horseback and on the point of setting out for scout duty. And the lieutenant obeyed him like a machine. In fact, the bridegroom quite gave me the impression of a man sitting in his saddle at the head of his squadron. The small arms were beginning to fire, the musket b.a.l.l.s were piping about his ears, the hissing grenades strike the ground in front of him, and he cannot so much as move his head aside till the liberating command sounds: ”Forward! March! Draw your swords! On 'em! Cut, slas.h.!.+”

Stop! What am I saying? Here was no question of cutting and slas.h.i.+ng!

No; press her to your breast, rather! Is she not your bride?

Finally, at the word of command, we reached the altar.

It was all over. I had given Bessy away. She was married.

She bore up very gallantly; but then, of course, she had had a deal of practice.

But as for the bridegroom, every one of his movements had to be by order; he was accustomed to have it so. He was so moved indeed that he could scarcely draw off his glove, and would have forced the bride to stand on the right hand, whereas the priest wished her to pa.s.s to the left; and when the ceremony was over, he turned towards his own witness with the expression of a delinquent condemned to death who has now no hope left save in the mercy of the Court of Appeal.

”We have been married with our left hands,” he stammered.

His best man rea.s.sured him: ”Have no fear of that, my son. 'Tis the usual thing. The bride always stands on the left, but your right hands were duly placed within each other.”

”Impossible!”

Worthy Kvatopil did not seem to know which was his right hand and which was his left.

On the way home the happy bride and bridegroom sat together in a little coach.

A splendid banquet awaited the guests in Bessy's lodgings. The table was already spread.

When the happy husband had conducted his darling yoke-fellow into the midst of us, he, without more ado, flung himself on the sofa, and, hiding his face in the palms of both hands, began to weep bitterly.

Such a wonder as that is surely not to be seen for either love or money!

That a bridegroom should weep fit to break his heart immediately after the marriage ceremony, and bewail the loss of his bachelordom in floods of bitter tears!

The two ladies, however, took him in hand between them, and began to entreat and console him, but he could not stifle this outburst of feeling. The major also rea.s.sured him very prettily: ”Come, come, my dear friend, you need not take it so tragically. Look at me now! I've been through it all! Look how well I get on with my domestic dragon!”

This, however, was poor balm to him in his great affliction. At last the major fairly lost his temper. ”A thousand Turkish skulls! What's this, lieutenant? Do you wish to regale us with a specimen of the higher morality? Bombs and grenades! Embrace your wife, sir, immediately!”

Bessy looked at me as if she were on the point of weeping. I pitied her from the bottom of my heart.

”Mr. Lieutenant,” I said, ”have you ever learnt English?”

The newly-married husband was amazed.

”Yes,” said he.

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