Hungarian fiction -- Translations into English; Hungary -- History -- 1699-1848 -- Fiction
The figure conducted on to the stage by the colonel was no other than
the little water-monster, Baroness Katharina's protégé. He was clad in
the uniform of a soldier, with a wooden sword and gun, a hat decorated
with crane-feathers, a canteen at his side, and a knapsack on his back.
An enormous false mustache extended from ear to ear, and a short-stemmed
pipe was thrust between his lips.
"This, gentlemen and ladies, is a militiaman." The colonel was
interrupted by a burst of merriment from his audience. Even the baroness
laughed immoderately, but suppressed it hastily when she remembered the
telescope on the tower of the Nameless Castle.
"Poor little fellow!" she murmured, with difficulty keeping her face
straight.
"Attention!" called the colonel, snapping the whip he held in his hand.
"What does the militiaman do when he is in a good humor?"
A bagpipe behind the curtain now began to play a familiar air, whereupon
the little monster first touched his finger to his hat, then slapped his
thighs with both hands, and lifted first one foot, then the other.
The baroness hid with her fan that side of her face which was toward the
neighboring castle, and joined in the uproarious laughter.
"You see, gracious baroness," continued the colonel, "that I have
accomplished what I determined I would do--made quite a man of the
little fellow."
He snapped his whip again, and called sharply:
"Now let the militiaman show us what he does when he is in an ill
humor."
The bagpipe struck up a different air. The dwarf muttered something
unintelligible into his mustache, and grimaced hideously. Then he took
from his tobacco-pouch flint, tinder, and steel, and struck fire in the
proper manner; he thrust the burning tinder into his pipe, and pressed
it down with his finger.
Tremendous applause rewarded this exhibition.
"Do you see, gracious baroness, what a complete man he is become? He can
even strike fire and light a pipe!"
By this time the gnome began to understand that his antics amused the
audience, and he, too, enjoyed them. For the first time an emotion was
expressed on his stolid countenance; but it was not an agreeable
transformation. The corners of his mouth widened until they reached his
ears, which stood still farther out from his head; he closed one eye,
and opened the other to its farthest extent; and pressing the stem of
his pipe more firmly between his teeth, he blew the smoke and fire from
the bowl like a miniature volcano. The thicker the smoke and sparks came
from the pipe, the more furious became the strange creature's glee,
while the entire company shouted and clasped their hands. Even the
colonel himself was amazed at the performance of his dull pupil.
"Why have we not a Hogarth among us to perpetuate this caricature?" he
exclaimed delightedly.
"Horrible! I cannot bear to look at him," said the baroness, holding her
fan in front of her face. "Pray take him away, Herr Colonel--take him
away."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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