Timar's Two Worlds. Mór Jókai
from the Dolomites, out of a moraine. It was full of large and small caves, which the first person who took possession of it had adapted to his own purposes: the largest with the natural chimney for the kitchen, the highest, as a dove-cote, the others for summer and winter storehouses. He had settled on the heaven-sent rock, and, like the wild birds, built his nest there.
The child managed the barter with the crew well and honestly. Then she gave each his glass of elder-wine to wet the bargain, begged for their custom when they passed again, and went back to the kitchen.
Here she did not wait to be told to lay the table. She spread a fine rush mat on the small table in the veranda, and placed on it four plates, with knives and forks and pewter spoons. And the fifth person?
She will sit at the cat's table. Near the steps to the veranda stands a small wooden bench; in the center is placed an earthenware plate with a miniature knife and fork and spoon, and at each end a wooden platter, one for Almira, the other for Narcissa. They require no couvert. When the three guests and the mistress of the house have sat down and helped themselves from the dish, it goes to the cat's table, where Noémi serves her friends. She conducts the division with great fairness—the soft pieces to Narcissa, the bones to Almira—and helps herself last. They must not touch their food till she has cooled it for them, however much Almira may cock her ears, and the cat snuggle up to her mistress's shoulder. They must obey the girl.
The island woman wished, according to the good or bad Hungarian custom, to show off before her guests, and especially to prove to Timar that her larder was independent of his game. She had cooked the two snipe with oatmeal, but whispered to Timar that that was only food for ladies; for the gentlemen she had some good fried pork. Timar attacked it bravely, but Euthemio touched none of it, saying he had no appetite, and Timéa rose suddenly from the table. But that was natural: she had already cast many inquisitive glances toward the party at the other table; there was nothing remarkable in her rising suddenly and going over to sit by Noémi. Young girls soon make friends. Timéa did not know Hungarian, nor Noémi Greek; but between them was Narcissa, to whom both languages were the same.
The white cat seemed to understand perfectly when Timéa said "Horaion galion" to it, and stroked its back with a soft white hand: then it crept from Noémi's lap to Timéa's, raised its head to her face and gently rubbed its white head against her white cheeks, opened its red mouth, showed its sharp teeth, and blinked at her with cunning eyes; then sprung on her shoulder, crawled round her neck, and clambered to Noémi and back again.
Noémi was pleased that the strange young lady liked her favorite so much, but bitterness mingled with her pleasure when she saw how much the stranger had fallen in love with the cat, kept and kissed it; and still more painful was it to realize how easily Narcissa became untrue to her, how willingly it accepted and replied to the caresses of its new friend, and took no notice when Noémi called it by name to come back to her. "Horaion galion" (pretty pussy) pleased it better. Noémi grew angry with Narcissa, and seized her by the tail to draw her back. Narcissa took offense, turned her claws on her mistress, and scratched her hand.
Timéa wore on her wrist a blue enameled bracelet in the form of a serpent. When Narcissa scratched her mistress, Timéa drew off the elastic bracelet, and wanted to put it on Noémi's arm, obviously with the intention of comforting her in her pain; but Noémi misunderstood, and thought the stranger wanted to buy Narcissa with it. But she was not for sale.
"I don't want the bracelet! I won't sell Narcissa! Keep the bracelet! Narcissa is mine. Come here, Narcissa!" and as Narcissa would not come, Noémi gave her a little box on the ear, on which the frightened animal made a jump over the bench, puffing and spitting, climbed up a nut-tree, and looked angrily down from thence.
As Timéa and Noémi at this moment looked into each other's eyes, each read there a dreamy presentiment. They felt like a person who shuts his eyes for a moment, and in that short time dreams whole years away; yet, when he awakes, has forgotten it all, and only remembers that the dream was very long. The two girls felt in that meeting of looks that they would some day mutually encroach on each other's rights, that they would have something in common—a grief or a joy—and that, perhaps, like a forgotten dream, they would only know that each owed this grief or joy to the other.
Timéa sprung up from beside Noémi and gave the bracelet to the housewife: then she sat down by Euthemio and leaned her head on his shoulder.
Timar interpreted the gift. "The young lady gives it to the little girl as a remembrance—it is gold."
As soon as he said that it was of gold, the woman threw it, frightened, from her hand, as if it were a real snake. She looked anxiously at Noémi, and was not even able to articulate "Thank you."
Then Almira suddenly drew attention to herself. The dog had sprung quickly from its bed, had uttered a low howl with its head up, and now began to bark with deafening noise. In the sound lay something of the lion's roar; it was a vehement, defiant tone, as if calling to the attack, and the dog did not run forward, but remained by the porch, planted its paws on the ground, and then threw up the earth with its hind feet.
The woman turned pale. A figure appeared between the trees on the footpath.
"The dog only barks in that way at one man," she murmured. "There he comes. It is he!"
CHAPTER VII.
THE VOICES OF THE NIGHT.
The new arrival is a man of youthful appearance; he wears a blouse and trousers, round his neck a red cotton handkerchief, and on his head a Turkish fez.
He has a handsome face. If he sat quietly to an artist, every one would say of his portrait that it was the ideal of a hero; but when he is in motion, the first thought must be—that is a spy. His features are regular, the thick hair curly, the lips finely chiseled, the eyes deeply black; but the wrinkles round them and their restless fire, the upturned corners of the mouth, and the ever-twitching brows, betray the soul of a slave to his own appetites.
Almira barked furiously at the new-comer, who came swinging along with defiant nonchalance, like one who knows that it is other people's duty to protect him. Noémi told the dog to lie down, but it gave no heed; she caught the creature's ears in both hands and drew it back: the dog whined and growled at the discomfort, but did not cease barking. At last Noémi put her foot on its head and pressed it to the ground. Then Almira gave in, lay down growling, and let the girl's foot lie on her great black head, as if that were a burden she could not shake off.
The stranger came whistling and humming up to them. From afar he called out—"Ah! you have still got that confounded big brute; you haven't had her poisoned? I shall have to get rid of her in the end. The stupid beast!" When the young man got near Noémi, he stretched out his hand with a familiar smile toward the girl's face, as if he would have pinched her cheek; but she drew her face quickly away.
"Well, my dear little fiancée, are you still so shy? How you have grown since I saw you!"
Noémi looked at the speaker with her head thrown back. She wrinkled her forehead, curled her lips, and threw a defiantly penetrating glance at him; even her complexion changed, the rose tint on her cheeks turned livid. Evidently she could look odious if she chose.
The new-comer, however, quite unabashed, continued, "How pretty you have grown!"
Instead of answering she said to the dog, "Down, Almira!"
The stranger behaved as though he were quite at home under the veranda, where his first act was to kiss the hand of the woman of the house. He greeted Timar with friendly condescension, made a polite bow to Euthemio and Timéa, and then opened the flood-gates of his eloquence. "Good-evening, dear mother-in-law! Your obedient servant, captain! Sir and mademoiselle, you are welcome. My name is Theodor Krisstyan; I am chevalier and captain, the future son-in-law of this worthy lady. Our fathers were bosom friends, and betrothed Noémi to me in their life-time, so I come every year to see my sweetheart in her