Peter the Priest. Mór Jókai

may be sent into the desert of Arabia to convert the heathen, or to Russia to encourage to steadfastness the faithful of the Church who are persecuted by Ivan the Terrible. So then you must spend three years among your books, keeping awake night and day, and forcing your way into learning as yet unknown to you. The next three years, you must wander about among hostile peoples, where crucified martyrs and impaled saints will mark your way. The seventh year, you must make a pilgrimage into Spain to endure the test of your fidelity. If you endure all these tests, and all these temptations, then may you be numbered among the fathers. All this long way you can put behind you with one step, and out of all this learning you need only the one word, I will. This day you may lay down your novitiate, and tomorrow arise Father Peter, if you will voluntarily and obediently undertake this mission. Read!" And he handed him the letter of the Patroness.

      When the young monk glanced at the hand-writing, (he must have known it before) his whole countenance expressed sudden horror; he held the letter in his hand as if afraid to read it; then he took it, and as he read, his brow wrinkled, his face expressed contempt, and through his open lips, one could see his tightly closed teeth. He read the letter through and let his hand fall listlessly.

      "We have chosen you," said the Prior. "To-morrow you will become Father Peter, and need only to say, 'I will'."

      The youth looked steadfastly at the ground.

      "Have you become speechless?"

      The youth raised his head; his face had regained its manly calm. "Give me time for consideration, my father," he said, with a sweetly ringing voice, in which was heard the sincere vibration of a naive nature. "Let me compare the beginning and the end of this course. Surely it is not so far for me to the desert of Bab-el-Mandeb, or to the ice-sea of Siberia, as from the threshold of this monastery to the gate of the Madocsany castle. Neither the raging of Ivan the Terrible at his gory banquets, nor the nightly howl of the hyena, prowling after the dead through the desert of sand, is to me so terrible as one whisper of this woman. More rapidly can I learn Turkish and Arabic, Greek and Russian, and, if necessary, Sanskrit and Mongolian, than the one word, 'I will,' Grant me until to-morrow early to think of this."

      "Very well. Take this letter to your cell, and pray God that He give you light. For it is true that the mission we lay upon you is more difficult than any into the land of the Scythian or Hyperborean. Omnia ad majorem Dei gloriam."

      Peter went to his cell. It was a small narrow room, five feet long and two feet wide, with only a bed, and on the wall a crucifix. Yet the whole night long, he did not lie down on his bed, but, like a lion in a cage, he went back and forth over the five feet of space. There on the bed lay the letter, and on the bed where that letter lay, he could not lay his head. Toward morning, his decision became strong. He pushed the letter off the bed and threw himself down, and then weariness overpowered him; he slept so soundly that even the matin bell did not rouse him; and he first wakened when the Abbot shook him by the arm. He sprang up.

      "Well, Peter, what is your decision?"

      "This," replied Peter, treading under foot the letter as it lay on the floor.

      "Very well, then get up and follow me; the two delinquents are awaiting their punishment."

      "Wait; the Prior told me that the two years of the novitiate in which I was to do menial service were over. Now follow three years of study; then three years more of pilgrimage among hostile people. The Prior did not say anything about such hangman's service as this."

      "Oh, yes, he did, Peter; recollect, he said, finally you are to go to Spain: that meant that you are to spend a year in the service of the Holy Inquisition. Come and begin your practice now."

      Peter's nerves quivered with horror. Tightly did he press his arms to his sides and his face grew deadly pale. He raised his eyes to Heaven and his mouth opened.

      A vision passed before him of human wisdom in dog's shape, and of canine rage in man's shape—of Ivan the Terrible—of the Saracens—of the torture-chamber of Arbucs. It was more than his mind could bear. His knees gave way under him; he sank down; took up the letter trodden under foot and folded it together; concealed it in his bosom, and said, "I will go."

CHAPTER II.

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THE FOOLS OF THE CASTLE.

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      That very day went forth from the Convent the answer to the letter of the Baroness. It read: "For the high office of instructing our future baron, Father Peter has been chosen. He will install himself to-morrow at the castle."

      For this new rôle, Father Peter received a new costume. No one would have recognized the beggar-monk of yesterday in this figure of to-day, clad in silken robe with buckled shoes; as, with a large book under his arm, he turned from the highway into the entrance of the Madocsany castle, barely a thousand paces distant from the monastery.

      This castle was formerly shunned by everybody. In the first place, the court swarmed with hunting dogs of every kind, which dashed out at every arrival, and fairly tore the travellers from their carriages; then the young lord had a custom of lying in wait with a few intimates, and shooting at passers-by with an air gun, on a wager; then inside the court was a peacock, which flew at everybody's head and tried to peck out his eyes. Man and beast were trained here to harass the stranger. The day when the arrival of Father Peter was expected, the mistress took care to have her beloved child's air gun put away, for the round Jesuit hat would be altogether too convenient a target; she had had part of the pack of hounds driven into the poultry yard, leaving out only the blood-hounds and pointers; but she could not herself take care that a respectful reception should await the pious father, for just at the time of his arrival, the forester brought word that the night before the lord of Mitosin, with a troop of hunters, had crossed the Waag and shot down deer and other game; and when the gamekeepers tried to withstand this mad chase, they had been bound to trees, and the game had been dragged away.

      The mistress of the castle fell into an ungovernable rage; sent at once for her stewards and agent, and prepared for a frightful retaliation by the most violent means.

      Between the castles of Madocsany and Mitosin was an ancient feud that each lord took care to settle with his own hand. But when one of these domains passed into the hands of a woman, the situation became worse; for woman is less yielding than man. The preparations for revenge caused the mistress of the castle to forget entirely the arrival of Father Peter; so he was received by nobody but the dogs and the fools, in which latter class must be counted the young lord.

      Nine blood-hounds and pointers plunged for the monk when his sable figure appeared in the gateway. But the monk did not act like those people who in their fright run this way and that, throwing out their arms, and provoking the spectator to laughter, but he remained standing quietly before the dogs—he had owned a fine pack once himself—and when they came baying around him, opened his large book and closed it noisily.

      The dogs thought he had shot, and dashed off in every direction to hunt for the game, while the monk walked calmly into the castle court. The young Lord, the haiduk, the master of the hounds, and the fool were entertaining themselves playing ball.

      "See, here comes the instructor," cried Matyi, the haiduk. "What a marvel that the dogs have not eaten him," said Petyko, the master of the hounds, greatly astonished. "Hit the monk in the back with the ball," the young Lord called out to the fool, who had the ball in his hand, and if he hit him it was bound to leave a big spot on the silken robe.

      Hirsko, the fool, did as bidden. The monk caught the ball, and threw it back at the Fool with such force that his bearskin cap flew off his head. This pleased the young Lord greatly.

      "That's a fine monk! Come here, Monk. So you know how to play ball! How the devil is that? I thought monks knew only how to pray. Can you throw a ball