"Countess, it would only need one word from you to bring the green palace and all it contains from Vienna to Pesth. The society here requires that leading personality which now in Vienna is lost among the crowd, whose existence is spent in aimless inaction. Pesth needs the prince, your grandfather. He adores you. One word from you would give to our life a new being; one word from you and Prince Theobald would reside here."

Angela ceased fanning herself; with an angry gesture she folded her hands, and turned an angry look upon Ivan.

"Do you know that the subject you have just mentioned is so distasteful to me that any one who has ventured to name it to me has forfeited my acquaintance?"

"I am quite aware of the fact, countess."

"And why have you dared to approach the subject?"

"I will tell you, countess. Because of an old connection between our families."

"Ah, that is something quite new. I have never heard of it."

"Possibly not. One of your ancestors was a cardinal, and one of mine was a minister in Patak--a great difference in their relative positions, no doubt; and this difference had a terrible result for my ancestor. The cardinal condemned him to the galleys for life. The minister had, however, only one word to speak, as the cardinal told him, and he would be free. That word was _abrenuncio_--'I renounce,'

or 'recant.' He would not say the word, however, and so he went to the galleys. As they were putting round his neck the iron collar, from which the chains hang which fasten the slave to his bench, your ancestor, the cardinal, who was not a hard-hearted man, with tears in his eyes entreated my ancestor to say the word 'abrenuncio.' The minister, however, not only refused, but called out 'Non abrenuncio.'

In the same manner I now stand opposite to you and repeat the same words--'Non abrenuncio.' This is the _rapport_ between us. Would you treat me as the cardinal did my ancestor?"

Countess Angela tapped her fan upon her knee as she whispered between her small white teeth, and with a cruel smile upon her lips:

"What a pity that those days are past! If I were in the place of my ancestor I would order you to have iron goads driven under your nails."

At this formidable threat Ivan burst out laughing. After a minute Angela followed his example and laughed also.

It was rather a bold experiment to meet the young beauty's wrath with a burst of laughter, but it was a good answer to her foolish speech.

The countess felt now that she had given cause for laughter; but she was offended, nevertheless, and with a haughty look at the offender she seated herself.

Ivan did not move from her side. A cotillon, even though it be the "Hungarian," has its uses. One partner cannot leave the other if they wish to separate.

In the meantime a young man, one of the stupid persons of society, came to Ivan and whispered in his ear that Edmund sent him to say he should return to his game; the luck had changed, and the heap of gold Ivan had left was lost.

"Tell him he has done well," returned Ivan; and he took his pocket-book from his breast-pocket and handed it to the messenger.

"Tell him to make use of what is in this," he said, "and lose it, if necessary." And he remained where he was.

Angela never turned her head to him again. The cotillon lasted a long time; Count Geza, who led it, wished to show that the Hungarian presented as many opportunities for new figures as the German cotillon, and the demonstration lasted two hours. Ivan remained to the end, although Angela preserved her cold silence. When they had to join in the waltz circle she leaned on his shoulder, her fingers pressed his, her breath touched his face; when she returned to her place she resumed her coldness, and kept her head steadily averted.

When the cotillon was over Edmund brought Ivan the news that this long dance had cost him a thousand gulden. Ivan shrugged his shoulders, as if the loss didn't concern him.

"Wonderful man!" thought Edmund. Presently he said to his cousin:

"It seems that you kept Ritter Magnet all to yourself, my pretty cousin."

Angela raised her white shoulder to him, while she said, angrily:

"This man has bored me for a long time."

From the moment that these words were spoken by the queen of fashion a marked change took place in the opinion of the world as to Ivan's merits. He was no longer considered a capital fellow, but was looked upon as a pushing _parvenu_. Angela said nothing more, but this one sentence conveyed much. There are men of low origin whose own vanity misinterprets the true meaning of the condescension shown to them by those above them in station, and by so doing make terrible mistakes which must be punished. Such bold _parvenus_ must be taught to curb their wishes. Ivan was counted as one of these. The foolish man had imagined that a high-born lady, a Bondavara, because she was patriotic, would, forsooth, stoop to such as he; he had mistaken her graciousness for the encouragement she might give to one of her own cla.s.s. He must be ostracized, and that speedily.

The signal had been given by those words of the countess's: "He has for a long time bored me." The first means taken under such circ.u.mstances is to make the offender ridiculous. This can be done in different ways. The victim remarks that his weak points are held up, that he is never left in peace, that he is perpetually placed in situations which are arranged to make him a laughing-stock. Not that any one is rude enough to laugh at him openly; on the contrary, they are most polite to him, but it is a politeness that provokes laughter.

He soon finds that no one is his friend, no one makes any intimacy with him, although no one actually insults him; but if he is a man of any intelligence he soon feels that he is not one of the society, and that his best part will be to take his hat and go.

This happened now to Ivan, but his habitual phlegm did not desert him; he understood the situation, and was determined to stand his ground to the bitter end. He was invited to take part in an amateur opera, made up of most aristocratic personages; it was done on purpose to subject him to a mortification. He was given the _role_ of the "King." He made a sensation; his voice was a fine, melodious ba.s.s. Angela was the "Elvira"; Salista, "Ernani"; but the "King" was the favorite.

"The devil is in the man," growled the marquis. "He has been an actor, I'll bet."

On another occasion he was invited to a fox-hunt at Count Stefan's splendid hunting-seat near Pesth. The _elite_ of the country round gathered at these hunts, which took place in the beginning of the season. It was arranged that Ivan should be mounted on a fiery Arabian. This was considered a great joke. It would be such fun to see the quiet book-worm in the saddle; he would have to cling on, for the Arabian would hardly allow his owner to ride. It would be rare sport.

But here was another disappointment; Ivan sat the fiery racer as if he had grown in the saddle. When Salista saw him mounted, he muttered between his teeth:

"The devil is in the fellow. I would take a bet he has been a hussar."

Countess Angela took part in the first run at Count Stefan's. She sat her horse splendidly; she was quite at home in the field.

About ten sportsmen drew the first cover; the hounds had the fox out of the bushes, and the cavalcade rode after Renard, who took his course over a slope of a hill, which was divided by a cleft in the rock, at the bottom of which ran a mountain stream. The fox took refuge in this cleft; he probably thought he might find there an empty fox-hole, into which he might sneak. In any case he might escape by the skin of his teeth, as the horses could not venture to follow him.

It was a chance, for if the dogs hunted him out of the burrow he could make tracks by the right-hand side. The hunt was on the left.

"Forward!" cried the daring Countess Angela, and put her horse to leap the cleft.

It was a breakneck jump. How many will risk their lives to follow her?

When she reached the other side she turned and looked back. Ivan was beside her. The dogs pursued the fox, who had taken to the stream; the rest of the hunt galloped along the left side of the chasm. Angela thought as little about them as they did of her. In every one's mind there was only one idea--the fox. The countess rode at the very edge of the chasm, taking no heed of the dizzy height she was on and the dangerous depths into which one false step of her horse might precipitate her. She followed poor Renard, who was seeking an outlet, distracted as he was by his pursuers. Suddenly he rushed out through the riders on the left bank and took to the woods.

"After him! Tally ho!" resounded along the hillside, and soon fox, dogs, and hors.e.m.e.n were lost to Angela's sight. At once she turned her horse's bridle; she made for a short-cut through the mountain, over which she meant to jump her horse, and so join the hunt without loss of time. She never looked back to see if Ivan followed her, but galloped up the steep mountain-side, sitting her horse in splendid style. At the turn of the path a hare suddenly broke from the cover under the horse's feet. The animal shied, and swerved violently to one side, throwing the countess out of the saddle. In the fall the long skirt of her habit got entangled in the saddle and kept her fastened to the horse. Her head hung, with all her hair streaming on the ground. The frightened horse ran towards the crevice; if he dragged his rider down its side her head would be battered to pieces by the trunks of the trees. Ivan fortunately caught his bridle in time. He freed the foolhardy rider from the saddle; she was unconscious. Ivan laid her upon the soft turf, and pillowed her head upon the stump of a moss-grown tree. Then he saw how the fall had disarranged her dress.

The malachite b.u.t.tons had come off the body of her habit, and the bodice was treacherously open. Ivan drew from his necktie his breast-pin, and with it closed the countess's corselet.

When Angela came to herself she was alone. Both the horses were tied to a tree by their bridles. In the distance through the gathering mist she saw a man coming towards her from the valley below. It was Ivan, who had gone to fill his hunting-flask with water. The countess rose at once to her feet; she needed no help. Ivan offered her the water; she thanked him, but said she was quite herself. Ivan threw the water away.

"I think it would be well if you were to return to the castle."

"I will do so."

"It is not far. I know a short way through the wood. We can lead the horses."

"Very well," returned the countess, submissively. But when she looked at her dress and saw how it was fastened a hot blush covered her face.

When she was in the shade of the wood she turned to Ivan, and said, suddenly, "Have you ever heard of Julia Gonzaga?"

"No, countess."

"She was the Chatelaine of Fondi. Barbarossa had surprised Fondi in the night and carried off Julia. A n.o.ble knight came to her rescue, and she escaped with him from the freebooter. It was in the night, and she had to ride barefooted, for she had just risen from her couch. Do you know how she rewarded her deliverer? She stabbed him through the heart with the first dagger that came to her hand."

"And she did right," returned Ivan. "A strange man should not have seen her naked feet."

"And the man?" asked Angela.

"Ah, poor fellow! he had the misfortune of enjoying too much happiness."

CHAPTER XIII

ONLY A TRIFLE