And thus the heckling went from street to street, being the usual mode, after the custom of those times, of shaming a backward combatant into action. And, indeed, it was surprising that Michael Doronczius did not come forward to fight with the youth who jeered at him so, nor even sent to arrest him, inasmuch as he was quite able to do both, being both a strong muscular man and, at the same time, chief magistrate of the city. But, instead of doing either the one or the other, he said that they were to let young Sandor depart in peace wherever he liked to go.

Nevertheless, later on, when the first intoxication of rage had evaporated from the head of Joseph, he bethought him that, after so much heckling on his part, it was not perhaps very advisable for him to remain in the near neighbourhood of so powerful an enemy, and accordingly one night he privily escaped from the town, and not even his father knew whither he had gone.

Meanwhile time went on, and Catharine grew paler and paler, and no medicine had power to help her. And suddenly the whole miserable mystery was revealed.

On the night before Ascension Day, just after the blowing of the two-o'clock horn, a watchman perceived a woman's shape, wrapped in a long cloak, hastening stealthily along the walls in the direction of the city trench. The watchman followed in the traces of this figure, and saw how this servant-wench--for such he judged her to be--on reaching the trenches, placed on the ground something wrapped up in a bundle, and then produced a spade and began to dig.

When she had scooped out a good deep hole, she knelt down beside the wrapped-up object, and, covering her face with her hands, began to weep bitterly. Then she suddenly left off weeping, and looked timidly round to see if any one was near.

Then the night watchman went up to her and seized her hand, and bawled loudly in her ear, "What art thou doing there?"

The girl immediately fell back and fainted without answering him, but the object lying open there before him plainly told him what was being done. It was a little new-born baby, a pretty little chubby-faced child; but dead and stiff.

There was no wound upon it, but only a little pin-p.r.i.c.k just over the region of the heart, nor was there any blood on its little white shift, save only a single drop, but that had been enough to make the innocent creature die.

At the cry of the night watchman, many people came running up, and they were horrified to recognize in the murderess and mother of the child, Catharine, the former bride of Joseph Sandor, who must certainly have run away from her bridegroom's house on the night of the marriage because she would not practise a vile deception on that worthy man.

They immediately tied the girl's hands behind her, and fastening the baby to her neck, put her in the lock-up, and there the inquiry began early the next morning.

The girl denied nothing. She _had_ killed her child and would have buried it to conceal her shame. She made no excuses, she did not even weep or beg for mercy. The one thing they could not get out of her was: who was the child's father? On this point she remained doggedly silent, and was ready to suffer threefold torture rather than speak.

The Sheriff, Michael Doronczius, was the presiding judge who p.r.o.nounced sentence upon the criminal. For her great sin against G.o.d, he said, she was to endure the punishment prescribed for such offences in the statute-book of the town, without any mitigation.

Within living memory no such crime had been committed in our town, so that not even the people themselves knew what form the execution would take, therefore an enormous mult.i.tude a.s.sembled on the appointed day at the place of execution to see what manner of death she who had murdered her child was to die.

I also was there, and I shall never forget the spectacle, but I would not go to such a sight again if they were to promise me the best part of the town of Caschau for it.

Beneath the scaffold a long trench had been dug about four feet in depth, and beside it stood the executioner's two apprentices.

In this trench Catharine was laid backwards, so that her head alone emerged above it; it was just as if she were lying comfortably in bed.

Then they bound her hands and feet tightly to stout pegs at the bottom of the trench, and the executioner placed the point of a large stake just above Catharine's heart, and held it there while the executioner's a.s.sistants filled the whole trench with earth, so that at last only the girl's head was visible above it.

And when nothing more was to be seen but her head, with its pale face, the chaplain approached her, and, kneeling down beside her, urged her for the sake of the salvation of her soul and for the remission of her sins to confess herself truly to him and tell him everything which might relieve her heart of its heavy burden--for had she not two feet in the grave already.

The head visible above the earth looked sorrowfully around it in every direction twice or thrice, as if it were waiting for some one, as if it believed that at that consummate moment some one would appear to save it, and when, after all, it saw no deliverer approaching, two heavy tears dropped from its eyes and, trickling down its pale face, fell upon the earth which now reached to its very chin. Then she, who was thus buried before she was dead, whispered that she would confess everything, and not in secret, but so that the whole world should hear it.

And she began by saying that the father of the child whose young life she had so mercilessly extinguished was none other than Michael Doronczius, the Sheriff.

It was he who had deceived the heart of the innocent girl by his devilish artifices, so that when she heard and saw him she forgot everything else. 'Twas he who, protected by the Prince of Darkness, came to Catharine's house at night, who corrupted her with devilish potions, and utterly turned her head. Once, too, he had been caught there by the watchmen, Wurmdrucker and Kebluska, whom Doronczius, in order that they might not say anything against him, had thrown into the Pontius Pilate dungeon, where they were still languishing. For this cause Catharine had escaped by night from her bridegroom, Joseph Sandor, and after that had oftentimes implored Michael Doronczius not to drive her to despair, but as he had made her unhappy, at least to take her to wife, especially as up to that time she had always loved him greatly. But Doronczius always made excuses; and when it was no longer possible to conceal her shame, he had counselled Catharine, with devilish insinuations, to kill and bury her child as soon as it was born. And when they had caught the girl in the deed her destroyer had a.s.sured her that, if only she would not betray him, he would save her at the very last moment. And now the very last moment had come, but Doronczius was hugging himself at home with the thought that the only witness of his evil deed was about to be put to silence for ever. So now, therefore, his offence was revealed, and let G.o.d judge him and let G.o.d judge her also, poor sinful girl that she was.

Every one heard these words with horror, and there was not one who did not weep for the poor downtrodden girl and curse the man who had ruined her.

And then the clergyman gave her spiritual consolation, and, having commended her poor oppressed soul to the infinite mercy of G.o.d, he covered her head with a handkerchief so that she might not see the things which were to happen next.

For the headsman now drew forth the stake, which indicated the exact place of the buried girl's heart through the intervening earth, and taking a long, red-hot iron peg from a brazier of burning coals, let it down through the place where the wooden stake had been. Then one of the executioner's a.s.sistants seized a sledge-hammer with both hands and drove the red-hot iron peg home, while the other quickly covered the girl's head with a heap of earth. But even through the earth could be heard a heart-rending scream, and the whole earthy tomb heaved up twice or thrice in a manner horrible to behold, till the other apprentices of the executioner had cast a great mound of earth over it and stamped it well down with their feet, after which the grave remained quiet, not a sound now came from it, and the earth ceased to move.

Thereupon the crowd, loudly cursing, set off for the house of Michael Doronczius, whom they would no doubt have torn to pieces on the spot had not the Furmenders taken him under their protection.

Meanwhile it became the duty of the Syndics to bring an action against him for fraud, sorcery, and murder. At first Doronczius obstinately denied everything, but when Wurmdrucker and Kebluska, who were released from their dungeon, testified against him, and said they had seized him on the night when he had quitted Catharine's house, he began to perceive that things were going badly with him, and, by way of saving his own skin, devised an evil plan and sent a secret message to the Walloon captain encamped at Eperies, that if he would come to Caschau by night hard by the gate of the Green Springs, he might perchance find it open and so obtain possession of the whole town.

But the Almighty put to nought this vile device, inasmuch as Joseph Sandor, who had quitted the town because of the Sheriff, and entered the army of Prince John Sigismund, and there worked his way up to the rank of captain, having heard through spies of the intentions of the Walloon captain, galloped at breakneck pace all the way from Tokai to Caschau with five hundred heydukes, and arrived just as the Walloons were pressing through the gate into the town.

A fierce and desperate fight thereupon ensued between the Walloons and the Hungarians. The former had brought a cannon with them, and entrenching themselves close to the Green Springs behind waggons, fired mercilessly at the town, and into the ranks of the Hungarian warriors, one ball even penetrating the princ.i.p.al entrance of the cathedral.

Nevertheless, Joseph Sandor, still further encouraging his warriors, broke at last the ranks of the enemy, and, capturing their cannon besides, flung them out of the town with great profusion of blood.

Indeed, if it had not been so dark, and the terrified inhabitants had had time, after the treachery of the Sheriff, to set things in order and succour Joseph, certainly not one of the Walloons would have escaped.

As for Michael Doronczius, he was seized while attempting stealthily to fly, and the whole treason was brought home to him.

And it was exactly a year that day since they had elected him as Sheriff and installed him in office in the churchyard. Wherefore the carpenters, with the waggon drawn by six horses and laden with a heap of fine hornbeams, again drew up in front of the churchyard, and there they made a pile of the wood and burnt Michael Doronczius upon it, as they told him they would beforehand.

But, by way of a memorial of the sad treachery, they walled up the gate of the Green Springs, and drew a couple of trenches in front of it, with deep moats guarding them, so that none might get in that way again.

After this event Joseph Sandor settled again in the city of Caschau, and lived there for a long time till he became an old man, but he never married.

This also they said, at a later day, that one night Catharine's body was dug up from its grave beneath the gibbet and buried in a more G.o.dly place, which none wots of save he who buried it there.

Whether it were true or not, n.o.body could say for certain, for that which is under the earth is the secret of the dark earth known only to the Almighty, and may His gracious protection rest over our poor town and over our hundred-fold more unfortunate country!

IV

THE JUSTICE OF SOLIMAN--A TURKISH STORY

In the days of Sultan Soliman the Magnificent there lived at Stambul a rich merchant whose name was Muhzin, who traded in jewels and precious stones. This man had a dear consort--Eminha--whom he loved better than all his precious stones, whose red lips he prized beyond the brightness of his rubies, the sparkle of whose eyes excelled the brilliance of his diamonds, and the speech of whose lips was like a silver bell. He would not have bartered those eyes and those lips for all the treasures of the world.

But, alas! those sparkling eyes, those sweet lips were but corruptible treasures. The breath of a breeze from the Morea, which brought the pestilence along with it, robbed Muhzin of his treasure, and cast a cloud over those star-bright eyes, a dumbness upon those speaking lips.

What Muhzin would not have given away for all this world's goods he gave to Death for nothing, and they buried his treasure in the ungrateful Earth, which gives back nothing, not even thanks for what you give her.

Worthy Muhzin wept sore because of this loss; he would neither eat nor drink, and sleep forsook him. Night after night he went on to the roof of his house, and wept and wept till dawn.

Vainly did his friends and kinsfolk try to console him. They could do nothing with him. He could not reconcile himself to the thought that those lovely eyes would never smile upon him again, that that dear mouth would never speak to him more.

One night, when Muhzin was lying back gloomily on his sleepless couch, suddenly, through the open door, a wondrous vision stood before him--a grey-haired old man, whose beard and turban shone like bright white flames.

And the vision spoke to him thus, in a gentle, consolatory voice--

"Muhzin, I have compa.s.sion on thy bitter affliction and upon thy grief.

I see that thou art worthy of superhuman succour, because thou dost love after a superhuman sort. Thy wife hath not died, for she was not a mortal maid, but a peri. Eminha still lives, for she possesses the power of the peris to die whensoever she desires so to do, and awake in another realm, there to begin a new life, till she choose to die again, and so pursue her metamorphoses. Therefore gird up thy loins and set out forthwith on a pilgrimage to Mecca, and there sit down at the gate of the burial-place, hard by the well of Zemzem, and wait there. Wait there till a funeral procession comes thither, carrying a blue-painted coffin covered by a pall of yellow silk, which pall will be embroidered with blue letters and silver arabesques. Then thou shalt rush out, stop the funeral procession, uncover the face of the dead, and thou shalt find Eminha. The mourners will not believe that it is thy wife; but thou must then take from thy girdle this little box, which contains a salve, and touch the eyebrows and the lips of thy dead wife with thy anointed finger-tips, and then her eyes will open and her lips will mutter, 'Muhzin!' and no one will doubt any longer that it is indeed thy wife, and thou wilt bring her back to Stambul, and she will no longer desire to leave thee. But in order that thy treasures may not be stolen during the time of thy pilgrimage, take them not with thee, lest evildoers rob thee of them by the way, but commit them to the keeping of thy faithful friend, the honourable Ali Hojia, who is learned in the law, and an interpreter of the Koran, so that thou mayest find them all safe when thou returnest."

And with these words the grey-bearded old man vanished from before the eyes of Muhzin.

The merchant awoke full of amazement. He rubbed his eyes with both hands to see whether he was not still dreaming, lit a rushlight, and his amazement increased when he found on his table the little box which the old man from the other world had brought him; it was beautifully wrought of ivory, richly set with turquoises and perforated with gold. Such a masterpiece came from no human hand.