The Village Notary. báró József Eötvös

was a sickly and unarmed man; still his aspect was of a kind to make even a bold man feel uncomfortable in his presence. Jantshi, or John, the glazier (such at least was his name in this county) was the ugliest man in the whole kingdom of Hungary. His diminutive body seemed as if bowed down by the weight of his gigantic head; his face was marked with the small-pox, and more than one-half of it was covered with a forest of red hair, and a wiry, dirty beard of the same colour. He had lost one of his eyes—its place was covered with a black patch; the searching and roving look of his other eye, his shuffling gait, and his cringing politeness, made him an object of suspicion and dislike to every one that chanced to meet him. Even Etelka felt disagreeably touched by the man's looks, and she became positively alarmed when Vilma whispered to her, that that was the face which she had seen at the window.

      "Mr. Tengelyi is out, I tell you," said Etelka. "You may come to-morrow morning."

      "Most gracious lady," said the Jew, still turning his hat and looking round, "this is indeed a misfortune! I have some pressing business with the high-born Mr. Tengelyi."

      "Well then, come back in half-an-hour; perhaps he'll be home to supper."

      "If so, may I wait outside?" asked the Jew, without, however, moving from the place where he stood. "Has his worship any dogs?"

      "Dogs?" said Vilma.

      "Yes, if there are no dogs in the yard I can wait; but if there are any I cannot wait. I am afraid of them."

      "You may wait!" said Etelka, angrily; "there are no dogs in the house."

      "Yes: but there may be some in the next house. I am a stranger, and it was but last year, in the third village from here, that the dogs nearly tore me to pieces. Since that time I fear them." And the stranger told them a long story, how he was walking through the village, how the dogs attacked him, and how he was saved by a shepherd who happened to hear his cries. "Bless me!" added the Jew, "if that man had not come they would have torn my cloak, and it was a very good cloak; it was not new, but it was a good cloak, for I bought it at Pesth for five florins and thirty kreutzers."

      The Jew was so cunning, and withal so awkward, that Etelka could not help laughing at him; but Vilma felt uncomfortable, and asked him to go and come back in half an hour. Whereupon the Jew said that he would wait in the servants' room.

      "No!" said Vilma; "there is a sick woman lying close by the servants' room; besides, we have told you over and over again that you must come back in half an hour, and that you shall not stay."

      The Jew bowed very humbly, and walking to the door which led into the kitchen, he opened it.

      "Stop!" said Vilma; "where are you going to?"

      "I throw myself at your feet! I ask a thousand pardons! I am so confused. May I go through that door into the yard?"

      "That door is locked. Get out by the door through which you came in."

      The Jew made another low bow, and walked across Tengelyi's room to the door by which he had entered; not, however, without looking to the adjoining room, dropping his hat on the floor, and turning the handle of the door in every direction but the right one, while his eye seemed to peer into and examine every corner of the apartment.

      "What do you say to that?" asked Vilma, when he was gone; "I will bet you any thing that fellow is a spy."

      "Nothing is more likely; for he seems to be capable of any thing, and in war he would certainly act as a spy. But why should he exercise that noble trade in your house?"

      "He was looking after Viola and his wife. You know how eager Mr. Skinner is to arrest the robber."

      "I know that yesterday he was in pursuit of the poor man; but to-day he has other matters to think of. No, I am sure the Jew has some request or some complaint to make to your father."

      "But he asked so many questions; he looked into every corner of the room."

      "He was afraid of the dogs, and perhaps he hoped to discover a broken pane of glass. It would have been a job for him, you know."

      But Vilma was by no means easy in her mind. She was about to give vent to a great many more fears, when Tengelyi's arrival put a stop to the conversation.

      While his daughter took charge of his hat and cane, the notary turned to Etelka.

      "I was hardly prepared to find Miss Rety here," said he, "there are so many guests at the Castle."

      "Are you not aware that their presence at the Castle adds to my reasons for coming here?"

      "Indeed! I fancied that these gentlemen could not be sufficiently honoured just before the election."

      Etelka's feelings were hurt, and she was at a loss what to say; but Vilma, who wished to turn the conversation into another channel, asked her father whether he had not met a Jew, who had just left the house.

      "I did meet him," said the notary. "I found him near my door, talking to Mr. Catspaw. By the by, now I think of it, Mr. Catspaw asked me to give his compliments to Miss Rety, and to inform her that he is going to send a servant with a lanthorn. They are going to supper; the sheriff has several times asked for Miss Rety."

      "But what did the Jew want with you? He was very pressing; he wanted to see you on business of great importance."

      "Business? ay, yes, it's a sorry business to him, though good sport to others. The poor fellow did a job at the Castle, and the very praiseworthy Cortes of the county took his glass chest and broke it for him; and because he was not at all amused, or because he is a Jew, or one-eyed, or Heaven knows why they thrashed him. It's a trifling matter, you see," said the notary, addressing Miss Rety, "for some people must be beaten at an election, especially Jews, merely to give the new officers something to do, and to convince the sufferers that, as far as they are concerned, things have remained much the same as they were before."

      "But, father dear, this is indeed horrible," said Vilma.

      "Nothing more simple, dearest child. What were an Hungarian's liberties worth, if he were not allowed to thrash a Jew? But the affair has been settled. Mr. Catspaw has promised to pay for the glass, and I am very much mistaken if the Jew does not make the attorney pay for the beating too."

      Mrs. Ershebet and the clergyman entered the room. Etelka kissed her friend and returned to the Castle.

CHAP. VII.

       Table of Contents

      It was but natural that while the Conservative party at Tissaret made so many preparations for the election, Mr. Bantornyi's cooks and butlers should be equally busy. Tserepesh was the seat of Bantornyi's party, whose numbers surpassed those of Rety's adherents. Almost all the great landowners of the county, with the exception of Kishlaki, Shoskuty, and Slatzanek, resorted to Tserepesh. Their enthusiasm (to judge from the noise they made) was unbounded, and their chief strength consisted in the support of the younger and consequently more liberal members of the community. But Mr. Kriver, who sided with either party, had his reasons for doubting the ultimate success of the Bantornyis. He was aware that excepting himself, the prothonotary, and a few vice-justices, all the placemen of the county belonged to the Conservative party, which did the more credit to their disinterestedness and foresight, as it was well known that Bantornyi was leagued with men, who, like himself, aspired for the first time to the honours and cares of office, a policy whose edge will sometimes turn against him who uses it. Besides, (and this is indeed Mr. Kriver's chief ground of doubt,) Bantornyi's party had resolved to act upon the mind of the Cortes by persuasion, and to eschew bribery. This sublime, but rather impractical idea emanated from Tengelyi, whose motion to that effect was so zealously supported by Bantornyi's friends (excepting always the candidates for office), that the recorder's eloquence and Bantornyi's entreaties were of no avail against this virtuous resolution of theirs. In justice to Bantornyi we ought to say, that he and his family strove to make up for this fault, and his noble friends were never in want of either wine or brandy;