# A Son of the People/Chapter 4
### CHAPTER IV
#### THE MONEYLENDER

“Rosenstein, the Jew, is downstairs, my lord,” announced Jankó, Bideskúty’s valet, respectfully opening the door; “he says your lordship has bid him come this morning.”
Countess Irma made no comment; before a servant, even the most trusted, she never gainsaid or argued with the head of the house, but invariably set the example herself of complete respect and deference. Nothing could be gained now, by commenting on the arrival of Rosenstein, whose shuffling steps she could already hear in the passage.
“Well! my dear,” said Bideskúty, a little nervously, “perhaps you had better have another interview with Panna, while I speak with Rosenstein; and, remember, you have my permission to kill everything on the farm you want, and to order whatever you like, as long as you see that there is plenty to eat, and we bring no shame on the hospitality of Bideskút. Tell the Jew to come in,” he added, turning to his valet, “and, mind, he wipes his dirty shoes, before he walks across the hall.”
The next moment the Jew, with doubled spine and obsequious bow, entered humbly into the room. As the Countess sailed majestically past him, he tried to stoop still lower, and to kiss the hem of her gown, but gathering her skirts closely round her, and without vouchsafing him the merest look, she left her husband alone with him.
Rosenstein’s age could not be easily guessed at, not even approximately: his scanty hair, of a dull carroty colour, hung from beneath a faded skull-cap, in two locks on each side of his face. His long gaberdine, buttoned all the way down the front, hung loosely on his spare frame, and was worn almost threadbare on the sharp, protruding blades of his shoulders. He rubbed his thin, claw-like hands incessantly together, and his watery blue eyes were fixed on the floor, all the time the noble lord deigned to converse with him. Only from time to time, when he thought himself unobserved, he threw a sharp, malignant look at the Hungarian, then his thin lips almost disappeared between his teeth, and there was that, in his colourless eyes, which would have taught a shrewd man to beware.
“Have you brought me the money?” asked Bideskúty, peremptorily.
“Well, you see, my lord, it is this way: your lordship knows that I am a poor man, and cannot possibly find so great a sum myself, and …”
“I know the usual lie,” interrupted Bideskúty, laughing. “Never mind telling me about the obliging friend who is willing to come to the rescue, at the cost of exorbitant interest, for which you will have to promise my best bit of land as security. Tell me quickly if you will take Zárda as security for the 250,000 florins, and what interest you will want for it?”
“Zárda is very poor security, noble lord, for a quarter of a million. There is no house, and …”
“Hej! the devil take these Jews,” thundered Bideskúty, “they have lived in mud huts all their lives, their ancestors were vermin in the gutter, and now they want a house to live in. Zárda will never get into your dirty hands, never fear; I will redeem it, and all my lands, as soon as my mill is at work, and my flour becomes famed throughout the country.”
“Your lordship speaks words of wisdom,” said the wily Jew, throwing surreptitiously a sarcastic glance at Bideskúty, “the steam-mill is a grand speculation, for it will lessen labour, and therefore improve the condition of your peasantry. That is the reason why my friends are not averse to letting me have the money, which I am most desirous of lending to your lordship, for so noble a purpose, on the not very good security of Zárda.”
“Hold your confounded tongue about Zárda; it will be ample honour for you in exchange for your cursed money, if ever your dirty foot even treads its soil. What about the interest?”
Rosenstein had bitten his lips hard, while Bideskúty poured out this flood of abusive language. He and his race, patient, tenacious, thick-skinned, are used to this accompaniment to the ever-increasing monetary transactions they have with the extravagant, proud Hungarian nobility. They take it as a part of the contract, and charge interest accordingly.
“Oh, my lord,” he said mildly, “I was forced to accept my friends’ conditions as regards the interest; I am a poor man myself, and, after I have paid them, but little will remain for me on which to live: fortunately I have simple tastes, and one hundred measures of wheat, out of the fifty thousand, they will require a year, will be quite enough for me.”
“Fifty thousand measures of wheat? You scoundrel! you …”
“It is not I, noble lord, I protest, it is my friends: they say the price of wheat will be lower than ever this year; that is why the hundred head of cattle, in addition …”
“A hundred head of cattle, besides? You low dog, villainous usurer …”
“Of which I shall only get one ox and one calf for myself, my lord; and how is a poor man to live? My friends will not let me have the money without they have ninety-eight head of cattle, and the wheat, not to speak of the five hundred head of sheep, and the eight hundred poultry, of which they will only allow me twenty-five for myself for arranging this very difficult matter for them.”
“You infernal scoundrel, if you do not hold your tongue I will call Jankó in to give you such a beating as you never had in your life. Ten thousand measures of wheat, forty oxen, twenty calves, three hundred sheep, and five hundred poultry I will give you, but not a grain of corn, or tail of lamb beyond.”
The Jew’s eyes twinkled beneath their thin purple lids, but he kept them steadily fixed on the floor, as he shook his head doubtfully and said:
“I have spoken to my friends very clearly on the subject, I have told your lordship their final word as to the interest, they will not go back on it.”
“And I tell you, man, that I will not pay such usury, and if you dare stand there, and demand it, I will have you beaten by the servants.”
“Then, I much regret, my lord,” said Rosenstein, humbly, “that we shall not be doing business to-day.”
“But, you cursed, dirty Jew, may the devil get into that wooden head of thine! I tell you I must have that money at once. The wages of the Budapesth engineers and workpeople are in arrears, and I still owe part of the money for the machinery, the devil take it!”
“If your lordship wishes, I will speak to my friends again, but I have little hope that they will give in about the interest.”
“For God’s sake, stop those lies! you know I do not believe in them; I will give you ten thousand measures of wheat …”
“Fifty thousand, my lord …”
“Twenty, I say. Sixty head of cattle …”
“One hundred, my lord …”
“Eighty; and may the devil give them the plague as soon as your dirty hands have touched them. Four hundred sheep …”
“Five hundred …”
“I said twenty thousand measures of wheat, eighty head of cattle, four hundred sheep and five hundred fowls; and may I join you and your lot down in hell if I give you anything else,”
“And, most noble lord, I must assure you that unless my friends get fifty thousand measures of wheat, one hundred head of cattle, five hundred sheep and eight hundred fowls, they will not advance the money.”
This was decidedly exasperating. Bideskúty was badly in want of the money, and the cursed Jew was obstinate, it looked very much as if the nobleman would have to give way to the usurer. A disgraceful thing, surely, absolutely unheard of in past generations, when these wretches were only too happy to lend their money to the noble Barons who required it.
“Look here, you scoundrel,” decided Bideskúty at last, “I have told you my final word, with regard to that interest. Take what I offered and go in peace. But if you persist in demanding your usurious percentage, since I must have the money, I will pay it, but then, I will hand you over to the lacqueys, for a sound beating, before you leave this house. Now choose, which you will have, will you take twenty thousand measures of wheat, eighty head of cattle, four hundred sheep and five hundred fowl, or not?”
“I will take fifty thousand measures of wheat, your lordship,” repeated the Jew quietly, “one hundred head of cattle, five hundred sheep and eight hundred fowls …”
“With the beating then?”
The Jew paused a while, and looked up one instant at the aristocratic figure before him. Tall and powerful, with proud-looking eyes and noble bearing, Bideskúty stood as the very personification of the race, which for centuries had buffeted, tormented, oppressed the Jews, denying them every human right, treating them worse than any dog or gipsy. Was the worm turning at the latter half of the nineteenth century? Would the oppressed, armed with their patiently amassed wealth, turn on the squandering, improvident oppressor, secure in the gold, which very soon would rule even this fair Arcadia, the Hungarian lowlands?
Dreamily the Jew rubbed the threadbare patch across his shoulders, which plainly testified that he was not new to these encounters with irate noblemen and their lacqueys; then he assented quietly:
“With the beating, most noble lord.”
Bideskúty laughed heartily. All his wrath had vanished. Since he could have the treat of seeing the Jew well flogged, he thought he had not paid too high a price for his pleasure. Rosenstein unbuttoned his threadbare garment, and taking out two large sheets of paper from an inner pocket, spread them out upon the table.
“What the devil is that?” asked Bideskúty.
“Will your honour be so kind as to sign? It is merely an acknowledgment of the debt, and a guarantee that the interest will be paid.”
Bideskúty had become purple with rage.
“You confounded dog, and is not the word of a Hungarian nobleman enough? What can your greasy bits of paper compel me to do, if my own word of honour does not bind me to it?”
“You see, my lord,” said the Jew, with the requisite amount of softness that turneth away wrath, “it is not for myself. My friends will require some guarantee from me. They are not used to dealing with honourable lords like yourself.”
The Jew had said this with a slightly sarcastic intonation, whilst his mild blue eyes rested maliciously on Bideskúty, who, however, noted neither the tone nor the look.
“You shall be made to eat a piece of pork for this confounded impudence,” he said, as he pulled savagely the papers towards him.
He did not take the trouble to read over the documents, such a proceeding, as suggesting knowledge of business matters, would have been wholly unworthy of so noble a descendant of the Bideskúty who helped to place King Mátyás on the throne. In large, somewhat shaky schoolboy hand, he traced his name at the bottom of both the pages without further protest. He had caught sight of a well-filled, very greasy pocket-book, which bulged out of Rosenstein’s pocket.
“Now for the money,” he said, throwing down the pen, “and after that for the pleasure of seeing my men give you the soundest hiding you ever had in your life.”
The Jew read both documents over carefully, threw the sifted sand over the august signature, then, deliberately folded them up and placed them in his pocket. Bideskúty was getting impatient, jerkily he puffed away at his cherry-wood pipe, whilst his eyes travelled longingly towards a panoply of sticks and riding-whips which adorned his wall. Evidently he thought that they would lose nothing by waiting, for he did not speak, till one by one Rosenstein counted out two hundred and fifty notes of 1000 florins each, which passed from his own greasy fingers into the noble lord’s aristocratic palms.
“At any time,” added the Jew, “that your lordship will require my services, I shall be most pleased to intercede with my rich friends, who, I feel sure, will, on my recommendation, always oblige your lordship.”
But the lord of Bideskút was not listening, he had thrust the bank notes into his pocket, and, opening the door, shouted loudly for Jankó.
“Take this cursed Jew,” he said jovially, “down to the kitchen, and see if he will sooner eat a bit of pork, or take a hiding from some of you. Stay!” he added, seeing that Jankó, a sturdy peasant, had already seized the Jew by the collar, “I want to see the fun. Come along, old chap, you know you made your choice, perhaps you will find that extra bit of interest well worth half an hour’s trouble. And if they happen to kill you, the whole of your tribe can share between them the fifty thousand measures of wheat, and the rest of the confounded stuff. Now then, Jankó, you can try that new riding-whip of yours on him. Come along, I am in a hurry!”
Rosenstein had become livid. Perhaps at heart, he never quite believed that Bideskúty meant to put his threat in execution, but now there seemed no doubt about it, for Jankó, with a vigorous kick directed against his lean shanks, had already persuaded him to follow his tormentor downstairs.
Noisy talk, and boisterous laughter proceeded from the kitchen, where a number of cooks in white caps and aprons, assisted by an army of kitchen-maids and scullions, were busy preparing meat, bread, cakes and what not, for the coming festivities. Silence fell all round as the master entered, laughing joyously and followed by sturdy Jankó pushing the thin, trembling figure of the Jew before him.
“Here! Panna! Mariska! Zsuzsi! all of you. Bring a chair and table here, for I have brought you a guest, an honoured guest, whom you must treat with respect. You must give him the choicest piece off that pig we killed yesterday. Ha! ha!" he chuckled, looking round at Rosenstein, who, helpless under Jankó’s grip, was looking savagely round him, like a fox caught in a trap, and throwing deadly looks of hatred at the noble lord before him. The merry peasant girls had caught the spirit of the fun, Panna, Zsuzsi, Mariska, the bright-eyed village beauties, had already bustled round the big centre table. They had spread a clean white cloth, brought out plate, knife and fork and set a chair before it.
With much laughter, and cries of delight, two powerful peasant lads had lifted the struggling Jew off his feet and seated him forcibly in the chair, while they wound some rope round him and secured him firmly to his seat. This was rare fun; Bideskúty, astride on a chair, was giving laughing directions to his servants, while the girls, from every part of the house came running in, their bright-coloured petticoats swinging round their shapely limbs, their arms bare, their faces aglow with excitement, and stood in the doorways, convulsed with delight at seeing a Jew made to eat a bit of pork. Suddenly a great ripple of laughter greeted the arrival of Benko, the portly chief cook, in snow-white jacket, trousers and cap, with an immense apron across his burly front, and carrying high up, in triumph, a gigantic leg of pork, roasted to a turn, the crackling still spluttering, brown and delicious looking.
“That’s splendid,” said Bideskúty, whilst the girls clapped their hands with delight,and Jankó officiously took a large napkin and tied it under the Jew’s chin. He could scarcely do it for very laughter, tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he had to stop every now and then in order to hold his aching sides.
“Now then, old fellow, I’ll warrant you have never had so good a feast in all your life.”
Rosenstein certainly did not look as if he enjoyed the fun, which made it all the more amusing. His face was absolutely ghastly, his eyes rolled round and round, more in rage than in fear. He could not move, for he was tightly pinioned to the chair, and each of his hands, which had been made to grip a knife and fork, was firmly held by the steel-like grasp of a young herdsman. But the looks which he threw at his chief tormentor were so full of deadly hatred, that perhaps, had the noble lord stooped to note them, he would have paused, awed at the infinite depth of human passion that lay behind those mild, colourless, watery eyes.
In the meanwhile Benko had carved two magnificent slices of meat, and with much laughter, the two men were gradually forcing the Jew to put one piece after another into his mouth. He tried to struggle, but in vain, his tormentors had a very tight hold of him, and when he made futile efforts not to swallow the morsels forbidden by the laws of his race, they held his mouth and nose in a tight grip, so that he was forced to swallow, lest he should choke.
There never had been such laughter in the kitchen of Bideskút; merry peals rang right through the house, so that the Countess and Mademoiselle Ilonka sent to know what the fun was. All the servants had crowded in, and for a quarter of an hour all the coming festivities were forgotten, the bread left in the oven, the huge roast on the spits, in the joy of seeing a Jew swallow two slices of pork. Rosenstein, after the first few struggles for liberty, had resigned himself to his fate, further persuaded into submission by the ominous cracking of the herdsmen’s whips in the scullery beyond. Bideskúty had laughed till he cried. Certainly he had ceased to regret those last measures of corn, and extra head of cattle and sheep, which were to pay the exorbitant interest on the Jew’s money, since they had procured him the best fun he had had for many a day.
At last it was decided, that the Jew had eaten as much as he conveniently could, moreover, there really was no time for any more merriment that day, if full justice was to be done to the plenteous hospitality of Bideskút. The noble lord gave the signal, and the Jew was released from his bonds; trembling with rage, he tried to make his way out of the kitchen, through the laughing groups of pretty maids, who, with mock gravity, dropped him ironical curtsies, to speed the parting guest.
Bideskúty evidently thought that the Jew had paid sufficiently for his outrageous demands, for Rosenstein was spared the promised beating; one or two cracks across his lean shanks, from the long whips of the young herdsmen, was all he had to endure. He did not stop to rub the sore places, nor did he cast another look at his tormentors. With all the speed his shuffling feet would allow, he hurried out of the lordly abode of his debtor; his lips tightly compressed, his fingers nervously clutched together, he crossed the hall, the park, and the acacia plantation. Outside the gates he stopped, and, like Lot’s wife, he looked back.
The chateau of Bideskút, the ancestral home of the Bideskútys ever since they had helped Hunyady Mátyás to the throne, was in itself not a very imposing building, except perhaps owing to its vastness. A low, regular, two-storied construction, built in a quadrangle round a courtyard in the middle. The stone had been plastered and painted over a bright yellow, after the fashion of the beginning of the century, and a double row of green shutters ran like two bright-coloured belts all round the house. The garden was mostly laid out in quaint, conventional beds of standard rose trees, each surmounted with a gaily-coloured glass ball, that threw pretty patches of brightness against a background of tall, sweet-scented acacias. A wide, circular stone stair led from the lower to the vast upper hall, which occupied a large portion of the main wing, and was par excellence the great dining-hall, where two hundred guests could dine without being crowded, at the two huge horse-shoe tables that stood on the tiled floor. Half way up the stairs, in a niche in the stone wall, a gigantic granite statue of Attila frowned down on those who passed.
The guest-chambers formed two sides of the quadrangle, and opened out under a verandah on to the courtyard, in the middle of which there was a round garden, bordered with dwarf acacias, and laid out with more beds of standard rose trees, and coloured glass balls. The verandah ran round, supported by columns, in the capitals of which swallows had built their nests. The last side of the quadrangle contained the vast kitchen, offices and rooms for the women and indoor servants; the others, gardeners, grooms, herdsmen and shepherds, slept under the blue vault of heaven, wrapped in their great sheepskin coats.
For full five minutes Rosenstein the Jew stood at the gates, his thin hands clutching the iron fretwork, his colourless eyes aglow with inward passion, the very personification, the living statue of a deadly, revengeful hatred. For full five minutes he stood there, till he saw a graceful vision in white come wandering down the sweet-scented alley, then he once more turned towards the village, and went his way.