Kálmán Mikszáth

“ There were some trees there, but they were as rare as the hairs on the head of an old man. First came a birch, then a hazelnut bush, then a black-thorn, then a bare piece of ground without any trees, and then again a few old trees. So it was rather difficult to find a suitable tree; one was too big, another too small; so Gyuri went on and on in search of one, and got so far that soon the carriage was out of sight, and only Veronica's red sunshade was to be seen in the distance, like a large mushroom. At length his eyes fell on a young birch, which grew near to a small precipice. ”

“ THE TRACES LEAD TO GLOGOVA.
One fine spring afternoon, a light sort of dog-cart stopped before Mrs. Müncz's shop, and a young man sprang out of it, Gyuri Wibra, of course.
Rosália, who was just standing at her door, speaking to Mr. Mravucsán, the mayor, and Mr. Galba, one of the senators, immediately turned to the young man with the question:
"What can I do for you, sir?"
"Are you Mrs. Müncz?"
"Yes, sir."
"I want to buy an umbrella."
The two gentlemen, surprised, looked up at the cloudless sky.
"What the devil does he want to buy an umbrella for?" muttered Mravucsán. ”

“ A priest is only a man after all. Could I have a lawsuit, if he would not give it me? What nonsense! Of course not. He might take the receipt out of the handle, and what proofs can I bring then that it was ever in it?"
The perspiration stood on his forehead; he bit the bed-clothes in his helpless rage. To be so near to his inheritance, and yet not be able to seize hold of it!
"Black night, give counsel!" was Gyuri's prayer. And it is best, after all, to turn to the night for help. Gyuri was right to ask its advice, for it is a good friend to thought. ”

“ Then Gyuri began to question her about Glogova. Was it very dull? Veronica looked at him, surprised. How could Glogova be dull? It was as though some ignorant person had asked if Paris were dull.
"Is there a wood there?"
"A beautiful one."
"Do you ever go there?"
"Of course."
"Are you not afraid?"
"Afraid of what?"
"Well, you know, woods sometimes have inhabitants one might be afraid of."
"Oh, but the inhabitants of our woods are more afraid of me than I of them."
"Can any one be afraid of you?" ”

“ It is no common mountain, but an aristocrat among its kind, and in fine weather it wears a hat, for its summit is hidden in clouds. Several small streams make their way down its side, flowing together at the foot, and making one broad stream.
"That is the Bjela Voda," explained Veronica to Madame Krisbay, "we are not far from home now."
They still had to drive through one wood, and then the little white cottages of Glogova would be before them. But this was the worst bit of the road, crooked and curved, full of ruts and rocks, and so narrow that there was hardly room for the carriage to pass. ”

“ Sztolarik was impressed by the apparent sincerity of Gyuri's sorrow.
"That's quite another thing," he said. "If that is how you feel I will stay here with you. Let us go and look for the girl ourselves, and find out what she thinks on the subject."
When they went out, they found great confusion reigning in the courtyard, but Mrs. Adamecz was loudest in her lamentations.
"I knew this would be the end of it. A legend should never be tampered with by a mortal's hand, or it will fall to pieces. Oh, our dear young lady! ”

“ When he wrote out miserable little bills for ten or fifteen florins, these words seemed to dance before him on the paper:
"Lay down your pen, Gyuri Wibra, you have treasures enough already, heaven only knows how much. Your father saved it up for you, so you have a right to it. You are a rich man, Gyuri, and not a poor lawyer. Throw away those deeds and look for your treasure. Where are you to look for it? Why, that is just the question that drives one mad. ”

“ The girl looked at him coldly, her eyes were like two bits of ice.
"Leave me alone," she said, "what do you want with me?"
The young man caught hold of her hand, and Veronica did her best to free herself from his grasp, but he would not let go her hand till he had forced a ring on to her finger.
"That is what I want," he said.
"That is what you want, is it?" laughed the girl bitterly. "And this is what I want!" And she tore off the ring and threw it away, across the meadow, into the grass. Poor Gyuri fell back a few steps. ”

“ He was surprised to see such a well-dressed young man before him—a rarity on the borders of the Glogova woods.
"How can I show you my gratitude?" he exclaimed, with a certain pathos which reminded one strongly of the pulpit.
He took a few steps in the direction of the stream, intending to wash his hands and face, but he stumbled and felt a sharp pain in his back.
"I must have hurt myself last night, when I fell, I cannot walk very well."
"Lean on me, your reverence," said Gyuri. "Luckily my carriage is not far off. János, you go on cutting down that tree, while we walk slowly on." ”

“ Veronica again knelt down by the sofa, and a whispered conversation ensued, the result of which was, as Gyuri understood from the few words he could hear, that madame quite shared Mravucsán's view of the case, that a carriage is not an arm, and that if two people have been introduced to each other, they are not strangers, and consequently, in Madame Krisbay's opinion, they ought to accept the young man's offer. ”

“ No king drinks such precious liquid as he did—if the story be true.
The legend of the holy umbrella is still believed in in those parts. Mr. Sztolarik, who was fond of a gossip, certainly told his version of the story, how old Müncz the Jew had made a present to Christianity of a holy relic, and so on; but the old belief was strongly rooted, and he was only laughed at when he told his tale. And after all, there was something mystic and strange in the whole affair, and the umbrella had brought worldly goods to every one, Gyuri included, for it had given him the dearest little wife in the world. ”

“ Fancy any one coming all the way from Besztercebánya to Bábaszék to buy an umbrella! How proud he was it had happened under his mayorship! He nudged Galba:
"Do you hear?" he said.
"This is only a small village shop, sir," answered Rosália. "We don't keep umbrellas."
"Pity enough!" muttered Mravucsán, biting savagely at his mustache. ”

“ After all it can make no difference to madame whether she groans in bed or in the carriage."
"But it will be dark," objected Mravucsán, "and there are some very bad bits of road between here and Glogova, and two or three precipices. In spite of my being mayor, I cannot order moonlight for you."
"We don't need it; we can light the lamps."
Veronica seemed undecided, and glanced from one to the other of the gentlemen, till at length Mravucsán put in the finishing touch.
"There will be a storm to-night, for there is the dead body of a man hanging on a tree in the wood you have to pass through." ”

“ The ugly peasant huts seem only to heighten the beauty of the enormous rocks which rise above us. It would be a sin to build castles there, which, with their ugly modern towers, would hide those wild-looking rocks.
The perfume of the elder and juniper fills the air, but there are no other flowers, except here and there in one of the tiny gardens, a mallow, which a barefooted, fair-haired Slovak girl tends, and waters from a broken jug. I see the little village before me, as it was in 1873, when I was there last ”

“ The horses outside may paw the ground, and toss their manes as much as they like, what difference does it make? Pál Gregorics spits blood! Oh, you silly little Marys and Carolines. Of course Pál Gregorics is an ugly, sickly man, but think how rich he is; and after all, he only spits his own blood. So what can it matter to you?
Believe me, Rosália, who is ten years older than you, would not be such a silly little goose, if she had your chances, for she is a philosopher, and if she were to be told that Pál Gregorics spits blood she would only think to herself, "What an interesting man!" ”

“ Of course his reverence allowed them all to look at her in turn, to pat her and smooth her hair; some of them even kissed her tiny feet.
The priest was obliged to turn away now and then to hide the tears of gratitude. He reproached himself, too, for his hard thoughts of the good villagers. "How I have misjudged them!" he thought to himself. "There are no better people in the world. And how they love the child!"
At tea-time Widow Adamecz appeared on the scene; until now she had not troubled much about the new priest. ”

“ The proper place for that (especially in novels) is a well-furnished drawing-room. If the girl is very shy she runs out of the room; if not very shy she falls on her knees and asks the blessing of her parents or guardian, as the case may be. But how is one to kneel under a tree? These were the thoughts that were troubling Madame Krisbay, not Veronica. She, on the contrary, was thinking that one fine day she would return to this spot with her sketch-book, and draw the old tree as a souvenir.
All this time the carriage was rolling along the dusty road. ”

“ Oh dear! When will people be more sensible?"
At that moment, Senator Konopka rose and drank to the health of the host, the "regenerator" of Bábaszék. He spoke in exactly the same thin, piping voice as Mr. Mravucsán; when the guests closed their eyes, they really believed the master of the house himself was speaking, and sounding his own praises; of course this caused great amusement. Upon that up sprang the mayor, and answered the toast in Konopka's voice, with just the same grimaces and movements he always made, and the merriment rose in proportion. ”

“ Who is to prevent it?"
"Why, don't you know?"
"What?" asked Gyuri, surprised.
"Why, etiquette, of course," she said shyly.
(Gyuri smiled. Oh, what a little simpleton she was!)
"Yes, yes," she assured them, seeing they were laughing at her, "it says in the book on etiquette: 'You must not accept the arm of a stranger.'"
"But a carriage is not an arm," burst out Mravucsán. "How could it be? If it were, I should have two carriages myself. My dear child, leave etiquette to look after itself. In Bábaszék I decide what is etiquette, not the French mamselles. ”

“ It certainly is a bad "habit," but one that does not seem inclined to go out of fashion. For thousands of years people have been marrying, repenting of it, and considering it madness to have done so, but they never get over the madness, and marriage is as fashionable as ever. As long as pretty young girls are growing up, they are always growing up for some one.
Gyuri's business was a brilliant success from the beginning; fortune smiled on him from every side, but he received it with a tolerably sour face. ”

“ Gyuri was silent too, though he felt inclined to cry out:
"I am rich at last, for in the handle of that umbrella there are unknown treasures."
It is remarkable that if good luck befalls a man, his first wish (for he still has wishes, even if they are all fulfilled) is to communicate it to others; he would like trumpets sounded, heralds to be sent round to announce it to the whole world. [Pg 211] But then comes doubt, the everlasting "perhaps." And so it was with Gyuri.
"What is the umbrella like, Miss Veronica?" he asked. ”

“ Mravucsán breathed freely again at these wise words, which certainly raised one's opinion of the magistrates; he hastened to make use of the opportunity, and as once the tiny wren, sitting on the eagle's wings, tried to soar higher than the eagle, so did Mravucsán try to rise above the Senators.
"What is true is true," he said, "and I herewith beg to call your attention to the fact that there is nothing to be feared from hail if we bring the body through the town." ”

“ For a man has night thoughts and day thoughts, though I do not know [Pg 223] which are the better. I rather think neither kind is perfect. For daylight, like a weaver, works its colors into one's thoughts, and night covers them with its black wings. Both of them paint, increase and decrease things—in one word, falsify them. Night shows the beloved one more beautiful than he is, it strengthens one's enemies, increases one's troubles, diminishes one's joy. It is not kind of it; but night is sovereign, and is answerable to no one for its actions. ”

“ The little straw-thatched house in which questions of moment are discussed is called the Town Hall, and the "hajdu" (town-servant) must know how to beat a drum (for the town has a drum of its own) , the richer ones even have a small fire-engine. After all, position is position, and one must do all one can to keep it up. Zólyom and Tót-Pelsöc were rivals.
"That's not a town," said the latter of the former; "why, they have not even a chemist there!" (Well, after all, not every village or town can be as big as Besztercebánya or London!)
Pelsöc could not even leave poor little Bábaszék alone. ”

“ With his thin, bird-like face, his ragged trousers, his battered top-hat, and his red umbrella, he was seen everywhere. If you once saw him it was not easy to forget him, and there was no one who did not see him, though few guessed at his business. Some one once wrote about him: "The little man with the red umbrella is the devil himself, but he belongs to the better side of the family."
In the peaceful time that succeeded the war, he returned to Besztercebánya, and became a misanthrope. ”

“ Much simpler is the ox-eye daisy, for it will tell you without any ceremonies if the person you are thinking of loves you very much, a little, or not at all; you have only to pull off its snow-white petals one by one, and the last one tells you the truth.
The wild pink provides food for the bee, the lily serves as a drinking-cup for the birds, the large dandelion is the see-saw of the butterflies. ”

“ But the umbrella is really wonderful. Sick people are cured if they stand under it; a dead man rose to life again when it touched him. It is of no use your shaking your head, for it is true. I know the man himself, he is still alive. Altogether the things that umbrella has done are [Pg 209] wonderful, especially the fact that it has brought luck and riches to the priest of Glogova."
A dark suspicion took possession of Gyuri, and when the candles were relighted, it was to be seen he was as pale as death.
"Is the priest rich?" he asked.
"Very rich," answered Mrs. Szliminszky. ”

“ THE UMBRELLA AGAIN.
Many years passed, and things had changed very much in Besztercebánya, but the thing that will interest us most is the door-plate on the house formerly inhabited by old Gregorics, on which is to be read: "György Wibra, lawyer."
Yes, little Gyuri is now a well-known lawyer; people come to him from all sides for advice, and young girls smile at him from their windows as he passes. He is a very handsome young man, and clever. He has youth and health, and his whole life before him, what more can he want? ”

“ Gyuri was a favorite at school, always the first in his class, and a model of good behavior.
The old man used to stay for weeks in Szeged and enjoy the boy's society. They were often seen walking arm in arm on the banks of the Tisza, and when they and Kupeczky talked Slovak together, every one turned at the sound of the strange language, wondering which of the many it was that had been invented at the Tower of Babel. ”

“ Mravucsán's voice broke in upon his musings.
"Well, my dear," he was saying, "don't you worry yourself about it; take a rest first, and then we will see what is to be done. Of course it would be better to have other horses, but where are we to get them from? No one in Bábaszék keeps horses, we only need oxen. I myself only keep oxen. For a mountain is a mountain, and horses are of no use there, for they can, after all, only do what an ox can, namely, walk slowly. You can't make a grand show here with horses, and let them gallop and prance about, and toss their manes. ”