The Poor Plutocrats

by Mór Jókai

But it must not, it should not happen.

Leonard himself had invited Vamhidy to his castle. This man relied too much on the terror of a poor timid woman, he built too much on that nimbus of terror which made him so horribly unassailable in her eyes. What! first to invite the former lover of his wife to be his guest and then show his indifference by choosing that very time to absent himself from the house for some days!

But on one thing she was resolved—Vamhidy should not find her at Hidvár. She would fly. She would leave her husband's house. Where should she go? Who would receive her? What would become of her? She did not know, she gave the matter no thought, but one thing was certain: Szilard and she might meet together in the grave but they should never encounter each other beneath the shadow of the halls of Hidvár.

There was nobody she could confide in. All the servants were her husband's paid spies and her own jailors. The priest had disappeared altogether from Hidvár. In her despair an old memory rose up before her. She called to mind that during the earlier days of her stay at Hidvár when she had explored the whole region under the delusion that she could make the wretched happy, she had often passed a little house which had always riveted her attention. It was a little hunting hut in the midst of the forest built entirely of wood and planed smoothly outside like a little polished cabinet. In front of it stood broad spreading fruit trees, crowded with flowers in spring, crowded with fruit in autumn, wild vines and moss grew all over its roofs.

In the midst of the listening woods this little house had such an inviting exterior that the very first time she saw it, Henrietta could not resist the temptation of entering it.

The door of the little house stood open before her, being only on the latch. She had stepped in: there was nobody inside. In the first room there was furniture of some hard wood; close to the wall stood a carved side-board with painted earthenware on it, on a table was a pitcher of a similar ware full of fresh pure water. The door of another room to the right was also open and in that room also she found nobody. There stood a bed with a bear skin for a coverlet, other bear skins spread on the floor served instead of carpets and on the walls were bright lynx, and wildcat skins.

From this room there was a door leading into a third room and here also she found nobody. The walls of this room were covered with weapons—guns, pistols and curiously shaped swords and daggers, in rows and crossed, hanging on nails and leaning against the walls. On the oaken table stood stuffed beasts and birds, under the table was a stuffed fox fastened to a chair; a pair of wild boars' heads with powerful tusks were over the door, but there was no sign of any living beast.

Henrietta fancied that the master of this little house must be away but not far off and she made up her mind to wait till he returned home. Yet one hour after another passed away and Henrietta was at last obliged to go on further lest she should have to pass the night there and, only when she was already some distance away, was she struck by the peculiar circumstance that all round the hut grass was growing thickly and that no path led up to it.

In a few weeks' time curiosity drew her again in the same direction. Alone, without any escort, she stood before the forest dwelling, fastened her horse to the fence and passed through the door.

Everything was just as she had seen it on the first occasion. In the first room on the table was the earthenware pitcher full of water; in the second room was the bed covered with a bear skin and in the third room were all the guns and other weapons just as she had seen them before.