Timar felt as if struck by lightning; these words roused him from his stupor. "What do you want with it?"
"Illustrissimo! See now. The air of the island is excellent, and most necessary to the re-establishment of my health, which suffered much in South America. I have heard from that dear departed saint, Frau Therese, that healing herbs grow there which are good for wounds; in botany books I have read that they will even make boiled flesh sound again. Then, too, I long for a quiet, contemplative life after all my trials; after the sybarite existence I have led, I long for the rustic joys of the golden age. Give me the ownerless island, excellency—serene highness."
The fellow begged so mockingly with the gun in his hand.
"You are a fool," said Timar, whom these jeers enraged, and then he turned his chair round and showed Theodor his back.
"Oh, don't turn your back on me, noble sir—señor, eccelenza, my lord, durchlaucht, mynheer, pan volkompzsnye, monsieur, gospodin, effendi. In what language shall I address you, to persuade you to grant the poor fugitive's request?"
This unseemly mockery did not do the assailant any good, but lessened the effect of the spell which lay on Timar, who began to recover from his stupefaction, and to recollect that he had to deal with a condemned man who was really in mortal danger. He spoke angrily. "Have done! Name any sum—you shall have it! if you want an island, go and buy one in the Greek Archipelago, or in China; if you are afraid of pursuit, go to Rome, Naples, or Switzerland: give yourself out as a marquis, get on terms with the Camorra, and no one will touch you; I will give you money—but you won't get the island."
"Indeed? Your lordship is going to talk to me like that?" cried Krisstyan. "The drowning man has risen again, and is going to swim ashore—now just wait till I push you in again. You think to yourself, 'Very well, booby, tell any one what you know; the first result will be that you will be arrested, clapped into jail, and forgotten there like a dog; you will soon be too dumb to tell anything more—or something else may happen.' I see what you think. But don't mistake the man you have to deal with. Now learn that you are tied hand and foot, and that you lie at my mercy like a miser gagged and bound by robbers, who must bear thorns thrust under his nails, his beard plucked out hair by hair, and boiling oil dropped on his skin, till he tells where his money is hidden. I shall do the same with you; and when you can bear no more, then cry 'enough.'"
Timar listened with the deadly interest of a man on the rack to the words of the galley-slave. "Till now I have told not a soul what I know, on my honor. Except the few words which escaped me at Komorn, I have never spoken of you, and what I said then was neither fish nor flesh; but all I know of you is written down—I have it here in my pocket, and in four different documents, with different addresses. One is a denunciation to the Turkish Government, in which I reveal what Ali Tschorbadschi took from Stamboul, and what, as the confiscated property of a traitor, is due to the sultan. Even the jewels described to me by my father are enumerated there, piece by piece, with the account of their present possessors, and of how they came by them. In the second letter I inform the Viennese authorities of your murder of the pasha, and your theft of his property. My third letter is directed to Frau von Levetinczy at Komorn. I tell her what you did to her father, and how you came into possession of her mother's picture and the other treasures you presented to her. But I have told her something else besides—the place you go to when you are not at home—the secret joys of the ownerless island—the intrigue with another woman—the deceit you practice on her. I tell her about Noémi and little Dodi. Now shall I drive another thorn under your nails?"
Timar's breast heaved with heavy panting sobs.
"Well, as you say nothing, we will proceed," said the cruel torturer. "The fourth letter is to Noémi. I tell her in it all she does not yet know: that you have a lawful wife out in the world—that you are a gentleman who has dishonored her, and can never be her husband; who only sacrificed her to his base lusts, and who is a murderer besides. What! you don't ask for mercy yet? Do you see those two towers? That is Tihany; there live pious monks, for it is a monastery; there I shall deposit the four letters, and beg the prior, if I do not return within a week, to forward them to their addresses. It would be no use for you to put me out of the way, for the letters would still reach their destination, and then you could not stay any longer in this country. You can not go home; for even if your wife forgave you her father's death, she would never forgive you Noémi. Justice would make inquiries, and then you would have to let out how you came by your riches.