Black Diamonds: A Novel

by Mór Jókai

One man only was ever allowed entrance into the Castle of Bondavara. What do we say?—no man, no masculinum. The language of dogma has defined that the priest is neutrius generis, is more and less than a being of the male sex; bodily he can be no man's father, spiritually he is father of thousands. No one need think he will here read any calumnies against the priesthood. The pastor Mahok was a brave, honest man; he said mass devoutly, baptized, married, buried when called upon, would get up in the middle of the night to attend the death-bed of a parishioner, and would never grumble at the sacristan for waking him out of his first sleep. The pastor wrote no articles in the Church News, neither did he ever read one. If he wanted a newspaper he borrowed from the steward the daily paper. When his clerk collected Peter's pence, Pastor Mahok sent it with an additional gulden or two to the office of the chief priest; but this did not prevent him sitting down in the evening to play "tarok" with the Lutheran pastor and the infidel steward. He held to having a good cellar; he had a whole family of bees in his garden, and was a successful cultivator of fruit. In politics he was a loyalist, and confessed he belonged to the middle party, which in the country means just this, and no more, "We vote for the tobacco monopoly, but we smoke virgin tobacco because it is good and we have it."

From this account every one will understand that during the course of this narrative this excellent gentleman will offend no one. We would, in fact, have nothing to say to him were it not that he came every day, punctually at eleven o'clock, to Bondavara Castle to hear the countess's confession, and that done, he remained to dinner, and in both directions he honestly earned his small honorarium. There was a general air of satisfaction in his whole appearance, in his double chin, in his fresh color, in his round, shining face.

To-day the excellent man was punctual. The countess, however, was not. Just as eleven o'clock struck, the spiritual man knocked at the door of the sitting-room. Only the voice of Emerenzia answered, "Come in!"

The smile of greeting on the countenance of the visitor was reflected on that of the companion. It was the meeting of two full moons.

"The countess is still locked in her room," Emerenzia said in a whisper, as if afraid that her voice could penetrate into the third room.

The pastor expressed by a movement of his hand and an elevation of his eyebrows that the sleep of the just was not to be disturbed. The good man was not aware that it was the toilette of the just that was then in progress. These mysteries were conducted by the countess in private. No one, not even a faithful maid, was admitted until Theudelinde was clothed, and for this reason her garments were made to close in front.

The priest made use of this unexpected delay to search in the pocket of his coat, and to draw from thence a mysterious something, which, after first casting a look round the room, to make sure no one was spying on him, he pressed into the fat hand of the countess's companion, who hastily concealed this surreptitious something in the depths of the pocket of her dress, expressing her gratitude by a friendly nod, which the pastor returned by a courteous movement which expressed, "No thanks are necessary for so small a service." Whereupon Emerenzia, turning away, half-shyly drew the something carefully out of her pocket, peered into the contents of the same, held it close to her nose, drinking in the scent of the something, turning her eyes up to heaven, and again to the pastor, who, on his part, expressed by the motion of the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, "Excellent—special brand!" Then, no longer able to restrain her feelings, the companion took from the mysterious packet between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand something which she placed in both nostrils, and sniffed up in silent ecstasy. It was the pastor's pleasure to fill Emerenzia's snuff-box with the very best mixture. This was the platonic bond which existed between them—the mutual desire of two noses for one ideal.

Yellow snuff is not an unattainable ideal. In the ordinary way of business a quarter of a pound can be procured for a few pence; but common snuff was as different from the priest's mixture as cherry brandy is from Chartreuse, or Veuve Cliquot from the vintage of Presburg. This is easily understood by those who take snuff. How is it that a clergyman always has the best tobacco? How does he prepare it? Does he get it prepared? These are broad questions that a man of liberal mind dare not ventilate. Even if he knew, it would not be advisable to make use of his knowledge. One thing is certain, the best tobacco is used by the Church. A bishop, who died not long since, left behind him a hundredweight of the most heavenly stuff, two ounces of which fetched a ducat.

The quiet tête-à-tête between the two snuff-takers was disturbed by the sound of a bell; then a metal slide in the door of the countess's room opened, and a tray with an empty teacup was put through. This was a sign that the countess had breakfasted.

Every door in the castle had sliding panels, some large, others small. The slides were made of copper, the doors of strong wood, with brass locks and fasteners. The door of the countess's bedroom was all of iron, covered on the inside with a tapestry curtain. Since no man was allowed in the house, it was necessary to have a defence system against any possible attack. This system included some cleverly-constructed machinery, by means of which the countess, by pressing her foot, could raise up the flooring, and precipitate any bold invader of the sacred precincts of her bedroom into a cellar without light or exit. From the alcove of her bed an electric telegraph connected with the fire-tower, so that by raising her finger the alarm-bell could be set ringing, and in case of danger the masculine inhabitants of the adjacent farm-houses and hunting-lodges could be summoned without a moment's delay. In Emerenzia's room there was likewise a communication with this electric apparatus, and to the door were affixed the different signs by which the countess expressed her wishes. The cup signified that the waiting-maid was required, a book would have meant that the companion was needed.