“Yes, I’m going a-hunting. I feel so full of energy that if I don’t tumble about somewhere or other I shall burst. Any boar or bear that I come across today will have good cause to remember me.”
“Oh! take care no ill befalls you!”
“Befalls me!” cried the Prince, proudly smiting his herculean breast.
The lady flung herself on her husband’s neck with the confidence of a child, and lifting from his head his saucy bonnet with its eagle plume, which gave him such a brave appearance, and smoothing down his curls, kissed his bonny face, and forgot all her thoughts and visions of the bygone night.
The Prince withdrew, and Mariska opened her window and looked out of it to see him mount his horse.
While the Prince was going downstairs, a dirty Turkish cavasse in sordid rags entered the courtyard, from which at other times he was wont to fetch letters, and mingled with the ostlers and stablemen without seeming to attract attention.
A few moments later the Prince ordered his horse to be brought in a loud resonant voice, whereupon the cavasse immediately came forward, and producing from beneath his dirty dolman a sealed and corded letter, pressed it to his forehead and then handed it to the Prince.
The Prince broke open the letter and his face suddenly turned pale; taking off his cap, he bowed low before the cavasse and saluted him.
O Prince of Moldavia! to doff thy eagle-plumed cap to a dirty cavasse, and bow thy haughty manly brow before him! Whatever can be the meaning of it all? Mariska’s heart began to throb violently as she gazed down from her window.
The Prince, with all imaginable deference, then indicated the door of his castle to the cavasse and invited him to enter first; but the Turk with true boorish insolence, signified that the Prince was to lead the way.
Suddenly, in an illuminated flash, Mariska guessed the mystery. In the moment of peril, with rare presence of mind, she rushed to her secretaire, where her jewels were. Her first thought was that the cavasse had come for her husband; he must be bribed therefore to connive at his escape.
Then she saw hastening through the door the old groom Jova. The face of the ancient servitor was full of fear, and there were tears in his eyes.
“Has the cavasse come for my husband, then?” she inquired tremulously.
“Yes, my lady,” stammered the servant; “why don’t you make haste?”
“Let us give him money.”
“He won’t take it. What is money to him? If he returns without the Prince his own head will be forfeit.”
“Merciful God! Then what shall we do?”
“My master whispered a few words in my ear, and I fancy I caught their meaning. First of all I must take you off to Transylvania, my lady. Meanwhile my master will remain here with the cavasses and their attendants, who are now in the courtyard. My master will remain with them and spin out the time till he feels pretty sure that we have got well beyond the river Sereth in our carriage. Near there is a bridge over a steep rocky chasm, beneath which the river flows. That bridge we will break down behind us. The Prince will then bring forth his charger Gryllus, on whose back he is wont to take such daring leaps, and will set out in the same direction with the Turkish cavasses. When he approaches the broken-down bridge, he will put spurs to his steed and leap across the gap, while the Turks remain behind. And after that God grant him good counsel!”
Mariska perceiving there was no time to be lost, hastily collected her treasures and, assisted by Jova, descended by way of the secret staircase to the chapel and stood there, for a moment, before the image of the Blessed Virgin to pray that her husband might succeed in escaping. Before the chapel door stood a carriage drawn by four muscular stallions. She got into it quickly, and succeeded in escaping by a side-gate.
Meanwhile the Prince, with great self-denial, endeavoured to detain his unwelcome guests by all manner of pretexts. First of all he almost compelled them to eat and drink to bursting point, swearing by heaven and earth that he would never allow such precious guests as they were to leave his castle with empty stomachs. Then followed a distribution of gifts. Every individual cavasse got a sword or a beaker and every sword and every beaker had its own peculiar history. So-and-so had worn it, So-and-so had drunk out of it. It had been found here and sent there, and its last owner was such a one, etc., etc. And he artfully interlarded his speech with such sacred and sublime words as “Allah!” “Muhammad!” “the Sultan!” at the mention of each one of which the cavasses felt bound to interrupt him repeatedly with such expressions as “Blessed be his name!” so that despite the insistence of the Turks, it was fully an hour before his horse could be brought forward.
At last, however, Gryllus was brought round to the courtyard. The Prince now also would have improved the occasion by telling them a nice interesting tale about this steed of his, but the chief cavasse would give him no peace.
“Come! mount your Honour!” said he, “you can tell us the story on the way.”
The Prince mounted accordingly, and immediately began to complain how very much all the galloping of the last few days had taken it out of him, and begged his escort not to hurry on so as he could scarce sit in his saddle.
The chief cavasse, taking him at his word, had the Prince’s feet tied fast to his stirrups, so that he might not fall off his horse, sarcastically adding:
“If your honour should totter in your saddle, I shall be close beside you, so that you may lean upon me.”
And indeed the chief cavasse trotted by
