The baldpate drew nearer to the cavalier trotting by his side, who was balancing his spear in one hand as if to test it, and said to him in a low tone, as if continuing a conversation already begun—
“So you will not interfere in the matter?”
“Pray don’t trouble me with politics now,” replied the other, with a gesture of angry impatience. “You cannot live a day without planning or plotting; but pray spare me for today! I want to hunt now, and you know how passionately I love the chase.”
With these words he gave his horse the spur, galloped forward, and caught up the herculean horseman.
The other bit his lips angrily at this roughish flout, but immediately turned with a smile towards the youthful cavalier ambling in front of him.
“A splendid morning, my lord! Would that our horizon were only as serene in every direction!”
“It is indeed,” returned the youth, without exactly knowing what he was saying, whilst his heroine bent over him with a darkening face, and whispered—
“I don’t know how it is, but I am always suspicious of that man. He is continually asking questions, but never answers any himself.”
At this moment the stately cavalier reached the hunting-party, returned their boisterous greetings, and halted close to them.
“David!” cried he to an old grey-bearded huntsman, who at once stepped forth, cap in hand.
“Put on your cap! Have the beaters taken their places?”
“Everyone is in his place, my lord! I have also sent canoes into the swamp to scare back the game.”
“Bravo, David! you know your business. And now set off with the dogs and the huntsmen, and strike into the path which we usually take. Our little company will be sufficient for my purpose. We mean to cut our way straight through the forest.”
A murmur of surprise and incredulity began to spread among the huntsmen.
“Your pardon, gracious sir!” returned the old huntsman, who now took off his cap a second time, “but I know that way, and it is no good way for a god-fearing man. The impenetrable thicket, the bottomless waters, the sticky slime present a thousand dangers, and then there is the wide Devil’s-dyke which goes right across the forest: no horse or horseman has ever leaped that dyke.”
“We at any rate, my worthy old fellow, will go for it; we have done worse bits than that ere now. He who follows me will not come to grief; don’t you know that I am Fortune’s favourite?”
The old huntsman donned his plumed cap, and set out on his way with the others.
But now the baldpate rode up to the hero’s side.
“My lord!” remarked he calmly, but not without a touch of sarcasm, “I hold it a great blunder for a man to jeopardize his life for nothing, especially when he may turn it to good account. I know indeed that say and do are one with your lordship; but pray be so good as to cast a glance around, and you will perceive that we are not all men here; one of that sex is among us whom it were cruelty to expose to certain peril for the mere love of adventure.”
During this speech, the hero gazed fixedly, not at the speaker but at the Amazon, and the fiery pride on his cheeks flamed up still higher when he saw how contemptuously the stately girl measured her unsolicited advocate from head to foot, and with what haughty self-confidence she chose a dart, adorned with ostrich feathers, from a bundle carried by a page, and then like a defiant matador planted the shaft firmly upon her saddlebow.
“Look at her, now!” cried the hero. “Is that the girl you are so fearful about? I tell you, sir, she is my niece!”
The hero’s exalted words rang far and wide through the forest like a peal of bells. There was, at that time, no voice in Hungary like his; so thunderous, so deep, and yet so melodious and penetrating.
The Amazon permitted the cavalier who had called her his niece to embrace her slim waist; she even allowed him to kiss her rosy red cheeks: in those days an Hungarian girl used to blush even when the kiss came from a kinsman’s lips.
“Not in vain does my blood flow in her veins! Ha, ha! For valour I’ll match her with the best of men. Have no fear for her! The time is coming when she will face greater perils than any of today, and still hold her own.”3
After these prophetic words, the rider pressed his spurs into his horse’s sides; the wounded beast plunged and reared, but the pressure of a knee as hard as steel quickly brought it to reason.
“Follow me!” cried he, and the picturesque little group dashed after him into the depths of the forest.
Let us anticipate them. Let us go whither the stag rests at noonday in the shady groves, whither the heron bathes and the turtle basks in the sun.
What habitations are these which rise up before us, built upon piles, in groups of five and six, between the waters and the wilderness, little huts carved out of the stumps of trees with round, clay-plastered, red-thatched roofs? Who has built that dam there, so that the water may never fall too far below the thresholds of those tiny houses? Here dwell the diligent beavers whom Nature herself has taught the art of building. This is their colony. ’Tis they who have gnawed through the thick trees with their teeth; they who have brought those logs hither; they who have thrown up a bank to make a dam, and watch over its safety all the year round. Look there! One of them has just glided out of the lowest storey of his dwelling,
