Hungary -- History -- Joseph II, 1780-1790 -- Fiction
Our hero needed no guide through these rooms. He knew all the nooks and
corners of the house, and likewise the time at which callers might
come--between the hours of three and four in the afternoon. First he
betook himself to the ante-room, where he laid aside his sword and hat.
But there was no lackey there to announce him, he had to knock therefore
at the first door, to hear a "come in," before he ventured to enter
without further preamble.
It was the familiar dining-room, where the women-folk were used to
betake themselves to their spinning-wheels.
They sat there now, the Fräulein and the two maids. The spinning-wheel
was to our grandmothers what the cycle is to the women of to-day; nay,
it took also the place of the pianoforte itself.
Mariska had certainly grown very pretty since Ráby had last seen her,
although, as Mr. Leányfalvy had remarked, she was quite simply dressed,
and did not curl her hair. He was also quite right about her blushing
when she was spoken to. In this instance, words indeed were not needed
to bring the colour into her cheeks, she no sooner saw the visitor, than
she crimsoned to the roots of her hair. The young girl rose respectfully
from the spinning-wheel, glanced shyly at the intruder, and ere he could
forbid it, had made him a childish curtsey and kissed his hand.
Ráby was very nearly being angry.
"But, Mariska, do you not recognise me?"
"How should I help recognising you, Matyi?"
"Why then do you kiss my hand?"
"Ah, you have become a great man since those days."
"Were I ever so great a man, I would not allow my hand to be kissed by a
lady."
"But I am no lady, you see."
"Nor am I a great man. And now please give me your hands that I may kiss
them."
But the girl put both hands behind her back.
"No, for then should I be a lady indeed. Please be seated."
She motioned Ráby to the leather-covered sofa, and sat down again by the
spinning-wheel, as she deftly began afresh to twist the flax into fine
silky threads, so that they could talk if they wanted to.
The two maid-servants did not leave the room, but just listened to all
that their mistress and her visitor said; it was but proper, they
thought.
Ráby was meanwhile thinking how to baffle the maids. To this end he
asked in German what she was doing?
The young girl gazed at him with her great blue eyes full of sorrowful
amazement. Fancy expecting that in the household of the pronotary of
Pesth, that stronghold of Magyar freedom, that anyone, much more the
daughter of the house, should speak German! She lowered her eyes, and
whispered timidly, "I do not understand German."
"You do not understand German? Why, whatever would you do if you went to
a ball here in Pesth, and could not speak to your partners?"
"I never go to any balls; I can't even dance," murmured the girl.
"You mean to say, you don't dance? Well then, however do you amuse
yourself?"
"When I have time for it, I read."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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