I would, however, first of all, lay down this axiom: "An honourable husband should give his wife no occasion for jealousy; but neither ought he to make her jealous without occasion."
The sacred truth is that I had never mentioned Bessy's name in my wife's hearing. ("Slipper-hero!") Did she know of her? I don't know. She was much too proud to have ever shown it if she did.
I had Bessy's portrait, and it was in the drawer of my writing-table. It was there even when I got married. And if it had found its way into any one's hands, I could not have said that it was the portrait of my grandmother. But this is what did happen. When the Russian armies broke into the kingdom, I, foreseeing the end of the unequal struggle, shouldered my musket, tied on my sword, fastened my knapsack round my neck, took leave of my wife, and went forth to seek the camp of Görgey—on foot. On my way I met Paul Nyáry. "Whither away so armed to the teeth, brother Maurice?" said he. "I am going to die for my country," I replied, with tragic pathos. "And what have you got in your knapsack?" "A ham." "Well, before dying for your country, let us have a bit of that ham of yours together." With that he helped me up into his car, and in the car beside him was already sitting Joseph Patay—two members of the Hungary Government at Debreczin, in fact. I was curious enough to inquire whither we were going, whereupon Nyáry replied:
"The dog that bolts to Szeged town
T'wards Buda lets his tail hang down."[99]
[99] Buda and Szeged being in diametrically opposite directions.
Even with the danger of instant death hanging over his head, his bitter irony never forsook him. So I went on with Nyáry to Szeged. A week afterwards my wife followed me. Our house she had entrusted to poor old Dame Kovacs. The clever comic actress had no need to fear the Cossacks. When, however, the Russians occupied Buda-Pest, and the rigorous order was issued that all arms, uniforms, and Hungarian bank-notes were to be given up, whilst every one in possession of a prohibited object or a revolutionary proclamation was to be tried by court-martial and shot, then indeed the good old dame ransacked all the drawers of my writing-table, and crumpling up into a heap all she found there, including Petöfi's correspondence, a letter of Klapka's, the whole of my diary which I had written during the Revolution, with innumerable and invaluable data, pitched the whole behind the fire, and so they disappeared. In this great auto-da-fé Bessy's portrait was also reduced to ashes. I therefore have my suspicions that something was known about it, but nothing was ever said to me on the subject.
So that, you see, was why only I was present at Bessy's wedding.
The rendezvous took place in her apartments. Here I had the opportunity of making the acquaintance of my fellow-witness, the major of dragoons, and a very genial man he was. He was a good copy of a genuine Hungarian lord-lieutenant of a county. Nothing but cordial hilarity and jovial merriment, you would never have taken him for a soldier, least of all for an Austrian soldier. He blackguarded the "Bach[100]-hussars," but had nothing but praise for the Hungarians. He had not been shut up in Temesvar like the lieutenant, but had been fighting in Italy, and had only just come hither. He had the habit of seasoning his discourse with Hungarian proverbs and pithy aphorisms. He introduced his wife to me also. "My domestic dragon," he said; he could not dispense with his jesting even then. The lady, however, clearly did not belong to the dragon species. On the contrary, she was a remarkably pleasant woman, in the prime of life, with really handsome features. One thing I will say of her: when once she began to talk she never knew when to leave off. Her conversation knew neither rest nor pause. In my eyes, however, this is an advantage, for it is my invariable practice to entertain my lady friends by letting them talk to their hearts' content, while I listen.
[100] The reactionary Austrian Minister who was mainly responsible for the attempted denationalization of Hungary.—Tr.
When the bride was still in her boudoir, the major's lady made me thoroughly acquainted with the family affairs of all the officers' wives in the regiment. When the bride appeared in all her bridal glory, accompanied by the bridegroom, who held his helmet in one hand and a gigantic bouquet of camellias in the other, the exchange of notes between the witness of the bridegroom and the witness of the bride took place with all the usual formalities.