Manasseh | Page 2

Church in Hungary, on an equal footing with the Roman Catholic, the
Lutheran, and the Calvinist, dates from that time. Through many trials
and persecutions, through periods of alternate prosperity and adversity,
it has bravely maintained its existence up to the present day, and now
numbers nearly sixty-eight thousand members. Though a comparatively
small body, the Unitarians of Hungary "hold together well," as our
author says, and exert an influence in education and in all that makes
for the higher life, quite out of proportion to their numbers.
As in so many of Dr. Jókai's novels that have appeared in English, it
has been found necessary to abridge the present work in translation.
Not until we have endowed publishing houses which can afford to
disregard the question of sales, shall we see this author's books issued
in all their pitiless prolixity, in any country or language but his own. It
is to be noted, in conclusion, that the excessive wealth of incident with
which the following story abounds is characteristic of the author's style.
Broken threads and occasional inconsistencies are found in all his
works, and if they are met with here, it is not because of, but in spite of,
the abridgment which the book has undergone.

MANASSEH
CHAPTER I.
FELLOW-TRAVELLERS.
Our story opens in an Italian railway station, in the spring of 1848.
From a train that had just arrived, the passengers were hastening to
secure their places in another that stood waiting for them. A guard had
succeeded in crowding a party of two ladies and a gentleman into one
of these itinerant prison-cells, which already contained seven occupants,
before the newcomers perceived that they were being imposed upon. A
vigorous protest followed. The elder of the two ladies, seizing the
guard by the arm, addressed him in an angry tone, first in German, then
in French.
With the calm indifference of an automaton, the uniformed official
pointed to a placard against the wall. Per dieci persone was the
inscription it bore. Ten persons, it seemed, were expected to find places
here.
"But we have first-class tickets," protested the lady, producing a bit of
yellow pasteboard in proof of her assertion.
The guard glanced at it with as little interest as he would have
bestowed on a scarab from the tomb of the Pharaohs. Shrugging his
shoulders, he merely indicated, with a wave of his hand, places where
the three passengers might, perhaps, find seats,--one in this corner, a
second yonder, and, if its owner would kindly transfer a greasy bundle
to his lap, a third over there.
This arrangement, however, was not at all to the liking of either the
ladies or their escort. The latter was altogether disinclined to accept a
seat between two fat cattle-dealers, being of no meagre dimensions
himself.
"We'll see about this!" he exclaimed, and left the compartment in quest
of the station-master.

That dignitary was promenading the platform in military uniform, his
hands behind his back. The complainant began to explain the situation
to him and to demand that consideration to which his first-class ticket
entitled him. But the illustrissimo merely opened his eyes and surveyed
the gentleman in silence, much as a cuttlefish might have done if
similarly addressed.
"Partenza-a-a!" shouted the guards, in warning.
The indignant gentleman hurried back to his compartment, only to find
that, in his absence, three additional passengers had been squeezed into
the crowded quarters, so that he himself now raised the total to
thirteen,--a decidedly unlucky number. The ladies were in despair, and
their attendant had begun to express his mind vigorously in his native
Hungarian, when he felt himself touched on the elbow from behind,
and heard a voice accosting him, in the same tongue.
"My fellow-countryman, don't heat yourself. Not eloquence, but
backsheesh, is needed here. While you were wasting your breath I had
a guard open for me a reserved first-class compartment. It cost me but a
trifle, and if you and your ladies choose to share it with me, it is at your
service."
"Thank you," was the reply, "but we shall not have time to change; we
had only two minutes here in all."
"Never fear," rejoined the stranger, reassuringly. "The due minute is a
mere form with which to frighten the inexperienced. The train won't
start for half an hour yet."
The two ladies were no less grateful to their deliverer than was
Andromeda of old to the gallant Perseus. They gladly accepted the
comfortable seats offered them, while their escort took a third, leaving
the fourth for their benefactor, who lingered outside to finish his cigar.
At the second ringing of the bell, he gave his half-smoked Havana to a
passing porter, mounted the running-board of the moving train, and
entered his compartment.

Seating himself, the young man removed