"Does he love me already,—my father?" stammered the child, nestling closer to his mother. "He loves you surely, for you kiss and embrace me again."
"We shall soon find out," Idalia whispered in his ear, and sighed deeply.
Soon the whispering ceased. Father Peter heard the deep breathing of mother and child, and the loud beating of his own heart.
Outside the cock crowed for the third time. Was it not Peter's cock,—the first Peter?
CHAPTER X.
THE FEAST.
The next day, they reached Madocsany, and the second day after, the feast began. They had hardly time to get rested. In truth, the feast began. The beautiful Lady of Madocsany did not close her gates, as she had said she should do, on the way home: she did not try to find any thick veil for her head to cover her face before the eyes of the world. The one expression, "On my word as a knight", had kindled a new glow in her heart. What was the world to her now! Whoever did not respect her, she did not respect. Contempt for contempt. The people of the castle did not go abroad, but they broached their casks, spread their tables, and summoned the pipers; and where there are spread tables, good wine, and fair women, there are guests in plenty. It is true, it was a mere revel. Not one personage of note. Perhaps the same drunken set that frequented the Mitosin Castle when there were feasts there; if so, no one could afford to reproach his neighbor. At Mitosin they criticised the Lady of Madocsany, and at Madocsany the Lord of Mitosin. They flattered both, and drank to the health of the one who owned the wine; and Father Peter tarried with them in the interval. He no longer spent his nights in singing psalms, but listened to the reckless conversation of this motley crowd. No one counted it against him that he had been driven from the Castle at Bittse; here it is no disgrace, quite the contrary, to be the beloved of a beautiful woman, the more glorious because it was unlawful; they clapped him familiarly on the shoulder, and admitted him as their companion. And he had to accept this quietly, and realize that there was something still more disgraceful than to be despised by men of position, and that was to be honored by the worthless. So he spent every evening with them; every evening, the side of the castle toward the Waag was lighted up, so that the household at Mitosin could see what a great feast it was. In their sledging parties on the frozen Waag, with sound of bells and bright torches, music, and crack of whip, they passed so near Mitosin Castle that their voices floated up to the windows of Lord Grazian Likovay. What sport! Father Peter took his part. "A lucky dog! he knew when to lay down his cowl," they said to his face.
In his sleeping room he was alone: for since their return from the Bittse wedding, the mother had kept her child with her. She no longer urged him to study, and all his days were spent in playing. As soon as Father Peter was alone in his room, he drank a pitcher of water, and poured another over his head, to wash away all traces left on his face by the revellers' kisses. Then he knelt down before his bed, and struggled with serious thoughts; his brow on his folded hands. The old man was aroused in him, the defiant,—the man of hot, passionate love; the devil of pride was struggling to break the fetters of his vow. Already he felt a loathing for the cowl he wore. His soul was no longer oppressed by the weight of a great guilt. The insult of the father had released him from the blood-money for the son.
Friday before this, a message had come from the Jesuit monastery to the lady of the castle, to the effect that she should not serve her guests any meat that day, and that she should send back Peter, who must be brought before an ecclesiastical court for his sins of conduct. The widow sent back in reply a letter and a purse. In the letter she said: "I send you back, not one, but a thousand Peters;" and in the purse were a thousand gold pieces stamped for the emperor Peter. And the fathers made answer: "Also serve the fish."