That he was also smelling and purring around the Countess Isabella Hommonai was patent to everyone, but the count would not for the world have taken any notice of it. Yet he heartily laughed over it all in secret with the countess, who made sport of the old rake, and told her husband everything he said.

One day Zurdoki gave a great banquet at the castle, on which occasion he brought out all his silver plate to make a goodly show, and invited the whole of the civic notabilities. Pretty Michal was there too, the prettiest of the whole company, and as she was dressed very simply her beauty was, of course, all the more striking. She was even lovelier than the countess herself. Her natural refinement and smiling coyness could not be imitated by those who did not possess those graces. With proud humility, she wore over her wondrously beautiful tresses the matron's coif, which showed that all this loveliness already had a master.

How the old voluptuary feasted his eyes upon this beautiful apparition! He was all fire and flame instantly, like an old worm-eaten tree stump, which blazes up whenever the young herdsmen smoke the wasps out of its hollow trunk.

He had no longer a single look for the countess, but followed close upon the heels of the beautiful chatelaine, though Valentine occasionally, as if by accident, gave him a violent nudge in the ribs with his elbow, or trod sharply on his foot with his spurred boots.

At table, the enamored Zurdoki distinguished pretty Michal so very markedly that all the women present whispered spiteful things to each other about it. The countess was naturally an exception. She only laughed at the c.o.xcombry of the old inamorato, and was quite persuaded beforehand that such a sage damsel as pretty Michal would be more than a match for him.

After dinner, the martial and amatory airs which had been played during the banquet were succeeded by dance music, and the guests flocked into the dancing-room.

The Hungarian dances of those days were very different from the dances we dance now. What are now called csardaszes and friszes were then only danced at rustic weddings. At polite entertainments, the dance consisted of slow and stately figures, accompanied by the clash of colliding spurs, of rhythmical involutions, and evolutions, with much extending of hands and kneeling on cushions, or, at most, of a defiant manly stamping with the feet and majestic movements of the body; not like our present system of dancing, when everyone seems bent on jostling his neighbor into a corner, and makes a whirligig of his partner. The earlier dances did very well for a time, whose motto was, _Festina lente!_

The ball began with the minuet-like dance known as the palotas. It was Zurdoki's duty as host to open the ball, and he lost no time in doing so. With grandiose _aplomb_, he sauntered up to the fairest of the fair, and held toward her a silken handkerchief as a sign that he had chosen her for his partner. This was, indeed, a notable distinction for Michal, especially as the countess was also present in the saloon.

But pretty Michel did not accept the extended handkerchief, the other corner of which she ought to have held so as to begin the palotas, but bowed modestly, and said so that everyone could hear it: "Your pardon, gracious sir! but I've only been a poor serving maid and have never learnt dancing!"

And this was no more than the simple truth, for she certainly had been a serving maid and never learnt dancing.

At this unexpected rebuff, Zurdoki became as red as a turkey c.o.c.k, and in his fury sought out the most hideous woman in the room. This was old Dame Furmender, and with her he opened the ball.

And during the whole of the dance he was cudgeling his brains as to the meaning of pretty Michal's words. "She had not learnt to dance because she was only a serving maid! Now serving maids can dance, and dance very well too! Yet surely she must have spoken the truth, for otherwise she would never have dared to publicly put to shame her host when he invited her to dance. Who are the women who really do not dance? Why, who but the daughters of Protestant pastors?"

Thus pretty Michal, when she said she could not dance, had already betrayed a part of her secret. When once an old bloodhound has got a scent, he will surely run down his prey!

As already mentioned, in consequence of an unfortunate episode in the history of the city of Ka.s.sa, when a sheriff had attempted to betray the city into the hands of the enemy, extra precautions had been taken to prevent similar conspiracies in the future. One of these precautions was that all letters brought by couriers from abroad, to whomsoever they might be directed, should be first opened by the magistrates, and only then handed over to their respective owners. And to take away all appearance of espionage from this precautionary measure, such letters were opened under the pretext of fumigating them to avoid the infection of the plague. And fumigated they certainly were, but the castellan used first to copy them and communicate their contents to the commandant, who could thus keep a watch upon the citizens, and prevent them from plotting behind his back.

Zurdoki, too, during his residence at Ka.s.sa, received a foreign letter which was delivered to him open and fumigated.

"You may try and spell out this letter as much as you like," laughed the great man. "I warrant you won't be able to make much of it!"

And, indeed, it was a very curious epistle. In the first place the letters were all so much mixed up together that you could see at a glance that it was cipher writing.

Valentine recollected that the learned Professor David Frohlich possessed, among other sciences, the key of cipher writing. Perhaps he had communicated this also to his daughter.

So he showed the letter to Michal.

Michal had indeed been initiated into the mystery of such writings, and as at that time there were very few variations in cipher writing, a person who held the key of one of them might very easily decipher all the others; and in fact, Valentine succeeded, with the aid of the key supplied to him by Michal, in deciphering the whole letter.

But now a second difficulty arose. This letter was written in a language which he had never seen before. It was like German, and yet it was not German. He had again to apply to Michal, and asked her if she understood this strange tongue.

"Yes! it is Swedish."

"What! you know Swedish too?"

"My father taught it me. He corresponded a good deal with the king of Sweden, who supported our schools."

"Then translate me this letter."

Michal did as she was told, and Valentine then hastened with the solved enigma to the commandant, Count Hommonai.

The letter contained very remarkable things. Count Hommonai had no sooner taken note of its contents than he sent for Zurdoki.

"Sir!" he at once began, without so much as asking Zurdoki to take a seat, "you are here with no good intention."

"How?" replied Zurdoki, attempting to give a jocose turn to the matter. "Do you mean that I am perhaps a little too attentive to some of your pretty little ladies here?"

"It is not a question of women, now, cousin! I allude to your correspondence with the Swedish Minister."

"Well! let us hear what you make of it."

"I can tell you if you choose to listen. Your master is George Rakoczy, prince of Transylvania."

"He is your master, also," retorted Zurdoki.

"Yes, to-day, perhaps, but he may not be so to-morrow. George Rakoczy, not content with the good fortune of being lord of Transylvania and of fifteen adjacent Hungarian counties, strives after higher fame. Although on his accession he swore to the Estates never to commence a war without their consent, he has nevertheless interfered in the present dispute between Sweden and Poland, first offering to a.s.sist Poland against Sweden in consideration of receiving the thirteen towns of Zips; and now, when the Swedes have entangled him in their net, he turns round and negotiates with them through you, demanding no less a reward for his services than the whole kingdom of Poland; and in order to gain the consent of the German Emperor thereto, he now offers him the five Hungarian counties on the other side of the Theiss."

"I deny the truth of that," bl.u.s.tered Zurdoki. "All that is mere sophistical gabble."

"Here you have the contents of the letter which the Swedish Minister writes to you. Read it!" said Hommonai, handing him the copied letter.

Zurdoki was dumfounded.

"Whence did you get this? Who is there in Ka.s.sa that can read cipher? Who understands Swedish here, I should like to know?"

"Why, my castellan, of course."

"What! that butcher boy! that expelled student?"

But for all that he could no longer deny the contents of the letter.

And now Count Hommonai spoke very sharply to Mr. Zurdoki. He told him it would be a piece of folly on the part of the Prince of Transylvania to attack Poland with the Cossacks, on whose friendship no one could depend, whereas the Poles had always been good neighbors. Transylvania and Hungary had quite enough to do at home.

They should sweep the dust off their own thresholds, and not meddle with the affairs of other lands. We should only be too glad to be able to defend ourselves against the foes we actually have, and not try and saddle ourselves with fresh ones. Besides, an enterprise so foolishly begun could not possibly have any good issue. The German Emperor would not approve of it because the Pole was his ally. The Sultan, too, would refuse his consent, and the end of it would be that George Rakoczy would lose the five counties without receiving anything in return. Nay, he might at last even lose his Transylvanian throne also.

Like every ill-bred fellow when he is driven into a corner, Zurdoki now took refuge in low abuse. He insisted that he was right. He raised his voice. He asked how they dared to break open his private letters, and what business the Commandant of Ka.s.sa had to criticise the plans of the Prince of Transylvania. Let the commandant look to his patrolling and leave politics to his superiors.

"And I mean to show you," retorted Hommonai, "that the city of Ka.s.sa also has to do with politics. If George Rakoczy thinks fit to exchange Hungarian counties for a kingdom, the city of Ka.s.sa will also think fit to shut its gates against all suspected persons who cannot give a good account of themselves. As for you, sir, you are my kinsman, and I have hitherto willingly seen you in my house. But I now beg to inform you that your carriage is waiting, and nothing prevents you from taking your departure immediately."

That was indeed a snub! What! to refuse hospitality to a guest!

Zurdoki could not swallow that calmly. He stuck out his chest and said haughtily to Hommonai:

"Look ye, my lord Count! You know as well as I do the real reason why you drive me out of your house. It is because you fear I might be dangerous to your dear wife!"

Hommonai was a finished gentleman. Even in his insults he was exquisite.

"I have a book which I will send you at once," said he to Zurdoki; "if you look into it attentively, you will find that it is really quite impossible for me to be jealous of you."