"The last, Panna; only the king or G.o.d can still change the sentence."

Panna's eyes flashed.

"The king can change the sentence, you say?"

"He, of course," replied her companion laconically.

Panna said nothing more on the way home. Only the gardener once heard her murmur:

"Justice is a fine thing, a very fine thing."

CHAPTER VI.

It was late in the evening when Panna again reached Kisfalu. Her father was already expecting her with great impatience and, before she left the carriage, shouted a question about the result of the trial.

Panna did not answer immediately, but cautiously descended, gratefully pressed the hand of the gardener, who had brought her to her own house, and entered the room with her father. Here she opened her lips for the first time, uttering only the words: "Six months!"

Her father struck the table furiously with his clenched fist, shrieking: "Then h.e.l.l ought to open its jaws and swallow the whole band! But wait, I know what to do. Six months will soon be over, and then I'll make short work with the fine gentleman. I'll be judge and executioner in one person, and the trial won't last long, that I swear by all the fiends."

Panna hastily interrupted him: "For Heaven's sake, Father, hush. If any one should hear it might be bad for you. What induces you to say such imprudent things? Do you want to be imprisoned for making dangerous threats? You know that they wouldn't use as much ceremony with you as with the n.o.bleman. Only keep perfectly cool, we are not obliged to make ourselves the judge, there is still one person higher than the court, and he will decide our cause."

"What do you mean?" asked the father, looking inquiringly at Panna.

"You'll learn; only let me act, and keep cool."

The old man was not naturally curious, so he desisted and went to rest, Panna following his example.

The next morning Panna was seen moving to and fro very busily between her own house and her father's, and repeatedly entering the town-hall.

With her father's help, she carried all their property to his hut and then offered the empty Molnar house for sale. There was no lack of purchasers, but the peasant does not decide quickly to open the strings of his purse, so it was three days before the bargain was concluded.

But at last the business was settled and Panna received several hundred florins in cash. She gave the larger portion to her father, who bought a vineyard with them, and kept a hundred for herself. When this was done, Panna said that she had business in the city, hired a carriage, and went to Pesth.

The king was at that time in Ofen, where he gave public audiences daily. It is an ancient and wise custom of the Hapsburgs to make themselves easily accessible to the people. In Austro-Hungary no recommendation, gala attire, nor ceremony is requisite in order to see and speak to the sovereign. On the days when public audience is given, the humblest person is admitted without difficulty, and nothing is expected from him except that he will appear as clean and whole as possible, no matter how shabby he may be. The people are well aware of this and, at every opportunity, profit by the facility afforded to reach the king; there are persons who go to the monarch with a matter which, in other countries, a village magistrate would decide without farther appeal.

So Panna left her carriage at a peasant tavern outside of the city, and went on foot directly to the castle at Ofen. The audience began at twelve o'clock, and it still lacked half an hour of this time. Panna pa.s.sed through the outer door unrestrained, and was first asked what she desired by a guard on duty at the foot of the staircase leading to the royal apartments. Panna answered fearlessly that she was going to the audience, and the guardsman kindly showed her the way.

At the head of the stairs another official met her with the same query, and she gave the same reply. But this time the official also asked for her certificate of admission. Panna did not know what it was, and the functionary then explained that the king's audience chamber could not be entered so unceremoniously from the street, but a person must first announce himself and state his business, after which he received notice of the time when he was to present himself. Of course it would be too late for to day, but she could be registered for the next audience, which would be given in a fortnight. She probably had her pet.i.tion with her, she need merely give it to him, and he would attend to everything for her the friendly man said at the close of his explanation.

Panna was obliged to confess that she had no pet.i.tion, as she had thought that she would be able to tell the king the whole story verbally.

The smiling functionary explained the mistake. She must write the pet.i.tion, for the king at the utmost would have only one or two minutes for her, and no long story could be told in that time; besides, she could not be recorded without a pet.i.tion.

Panna became much dispirited and out of temper. She again saw beloved illusions disappear. She had imagined everything to be far smoother, more simple, easier, and now here also there were difficulties. She dejectedly followed her guide into an office, where she had all sorts of questions to answer about her name, residence, etc., and the purpose which brought her here. To the last inquiry she gave the curt information: "I am seeking justice from the king against an unjust sentence." Then she received a card with a number and a date, and was dismissed with the remark that she must be there again with her pet.i.tion a fortnight thence, on Thursday, punctually at twelve o'clock, noon.

She had desired to keep her purpose a secret from every one in the village; but this was now impossible, for she could not prepare the pet.i.tion alone. So she went to the gardener, who had obtained another place, and initiated him into her plans. He eagerly dissuaded her from the step, since nothing would come of it, but Panna remained immovable in her confidence in the result.

"The king," she said, "will secure me justice. It is impossible that he should hear of the atrocious sentence and not instantly overthrow it." And when the gardener continued to try to show her the contrary, she at last grew angry and said curtly: "Well, if you won't help me, I'll go to a lawyer in the city who, for money and fair words, will draw up the pet.i.tion."

The gardener now relinquished any further opposition, and declared himself ready to compose the doc.u.ment.

They were together two days to accomplish the great work with their united powers. Evil tongues in the village sharpened themselves eagerly on the remarkable fact, and the rumors about the pair were endless. Some thought that the beautiful Panna had forgotten ugly Pista very quickly, others thought that the gardener was by no means amiss, though no longer very young; many said still more scandalous things. The young widow did not trouble herself about this chatter in the least; she had more important matters in her head and heart, and therefore could not hear the malicious whispers of the gossips.

The pet.i.tion was begun three times, and as often torn in pieces. Panna wanted it to be very energetic, very vehement. The gardener softened the pa.s.sionate expressions and suppressed the violent appeals. Of course he was not a practised writer, and he had serious difficulty in putting his thoughts into the correct form. But at last the composition was accomplished, and Panna read it ten times in succession till she knew every letter by heart. Her influence had been more dominant than the gardener's, and the pet.i.tion was still very forcible.

In awkward, but simple, impressive language, it accused the judge of partiality, described Abonyi and his crime in the darkest colors, quoted the cases of the shooting of Marczi and the hanging of Bandi, and finally demanded for Molnar's death the death of his murderer.

With this doc.u.ment Panna again went to Ofen, and this time she really obtained the audience. The whole scene affected her soul like some strange, wonderful face beheld in a dream. First she waited in the ante-room, among hundreds of other persons, most of whom were dressed in splendid uniforms, and covered with the stars of orders. She had no eyes for her surroundings, but thought only of her business and what she wanted to say to the king; suddenly her number, called loudly, broke in upon her reverie; Panna did not know how it happened, but the next moment she found herself in a room, which seemed to her fabulously magnificent, before her stood a figure in the uniform of a general, which she could not see distinctly because everything swam before her eyes; she faltered a few words about justice, and fell upon her knees; the figure bent over her, raised her, said a few gentle, pleasant words, and took the pet.i.tion from her trembling hand; then she was once more in the ante-room, with a hundred confused voices buzzing in her ears like the roar of distant surf. When the gardener and her father afterwards asked her for details, she was compelled to answer that she knew nothing, remembered nothing, had seen and heard nothing clearly; she only knew that the king had been very kind and took the pet.i.tion from her.

From this time Panna was remarkably quiet and composed. She went about her usual work, attended to her household duties with her usual care, and seemed to think of the past no longer; at least she did not mention the painful incidents of which we are cognizant, either to her father or the gardener, who sometimes visited her, and when the latter once turned the conversation to them, she replied:

"Let us drop that; the matter is now in the right hands; another head is considering it, and we need no longer rack our brains about it."

The gardener understood what she meant, and her father only half heard these mysterious words without pondering over their thoroughly enigmatical meaning.

Thus six weeks pa.s.sed away and the end of January was approaching when, one Sunday afternoon, the pastor unexpectedly entered Panna's hut.

Without giving the astonished woman time for a remark, he sat down on the bench near the stove by her side, and said:

"Do not wonder, my child, that I have come again, after you so deeply offended and insulted me. I must not bear malice. It is my office to forgive wrong, and I would fain have you follow my example."

Panna gazed silently into her lap, but the priest continued in a voice which grew more and more gentle and insinuating.

"You see, you are still indulging your savage, pagan vengeance, and committing all sorts of follies which will yet ruin you. What is the use of it? Let the dead rest, and think of the living, of yourself, your future. What is the meaning of your going to the king and giving him a crazy pet.i.tion----"

"What, do you know that, too?" cried Panna turning pale; she felt as if every drop of blood had gone back to her heart. "So the gardener tattled? Oh, fie! fie!"

"Nonsense, the gardener! We don't need the gardener for that. The pet.i.tion has come from the king's cabinet to the office of the Home Secretary, which sent it through the county to the parish, that we might give a report of your mental condition. From your pet.i.tion, you are believed to be insane, and that is fortunate, or you would be punished for contempt of court."

Panna clenched her teeth till the grinding sound could be heard, and obstinately persisted in her silence.

"Of course I know that your head is clear, only your heart is hardened, and I will pray to G.o.d that He may soften it. Herr von Abonyi is a very different Christian. You need not look at me so angrily, what I say is true. You know that he has great and powerful friends; it would cost them only a word, and he would be pardoned. They wished to appeal to the king in his behalf, but he would not permit them to take a step for him. He repents his deed, he has received a just punishment, and he wished to endure this sentence to the final moment. Through me, he entreats your forgiveness, he does not wish you and your father to remain his enemies, when he has penitently borne the punishment. You will probably owe it to him, if you have no unpleasant consequences to bear on account of your pet.i.tion. You see how a man of principle and generosity behaves! And then, remember what I told you before: Herr von Abonyi is ready to provide for you all your life, as no one in your family was ever supported. Well, do you say nothing to all this? Have I nothing to tell the n.o.bleman from you?" The pastor rose, laid his hand upon her shoulder, and looked her in the face.

Panna shrunk from the touch of his fat fingers, brushed them off, and said:

"Tell him it is all very well and we will see."

"Nothing else?"

"Nothing else."

The priest departed with an unctuous farewell, and left Panna alone.

She remained motionless in the same position, with bent head, her hands resting nervelessly in her lap, her eyes staring into vacancy. So her father found her when, half an hour after, he returned from the parish tavern. When she saw him, she started from her stupor, rushed to him, and exclaimed amid a violent flood of tears:

"Father, it was all in vain, there is no justice on earth."

In reply to the astonished old man's anxious questions, she told him, for the first time, the story she had hitherto kept secret of her pet.i.tion to the king, and the pitiful result of this final step.

Her father listened, shaking his head, and said: