THE OLD HOUSE
CÉCILE TORMAY
E. TORDAY
1922 : : : : NEW YORK
Robert M. McBride & Co.
United States of America
[Pg 1]
CHAPTER I
1
It was evening. Winter hung white over theearth. Great snowflakes crept over the snowtowards the coach. They moved ghostlikeover the silent, treeless plain. Mountainsrose behind them in the snow. Small churchtowers and roofs crowded over each other. Hereand there little squares flared up in the darkness.
Night fell as the coach reached the excise barrier.Beyond, two sentry boxes buried in thesnow faced each other. The coachman shoutedbetween his hands. A drowsy voice answeredand white cockades began to move in the dark recessesof the boxes. The light of a lamp emergedfrom the guard’s cottage. Behind the gleam aman with a rifle over his arm strolled towards thevehicle.
The high-wheeled travelling coach was paintedin two colours: the upper part dark green, thelower, including the wheels, bright yellow. Fromnear the driver’s seat small oil lamps shed theirlight over the horses’ backs. The animals steamedin the cold.
The guard lifted his lantern. At the touch of[Pg 2]the crude light, the coach window rattled and descended.In its empty frame appeared a powerfulgrey head. Two steady cold eyes lookedinto the guard’s face. The man stepped back.He bowed respectfully.
“The Ulwing coach!” He drew the barrieraside. The civil guards in the sentry boxes presentedarms.
“You may pass!”
The light of the coach’s lamps wandered overcrooked palings, over waste ground—a large desertedmarket—the wall of a church. Along thewinding lanes lightless houses, squatting abovethe ditches, sulked with closed eyes in the dark.Further on the houses became higher. Not aliving thing was to be seen until near the palaceof Prince Grassalkovich a night-watchmanwaded through the snow. From the end of astick he held in his hand dangled a lantern. Theshadow of his halberd moved on the wall likesome black beast rearing over his head.
From the tower of the town hall a hoarse voiceshouted into the quiet night: “Praised be theLord Jesus!” and higher up the watchman announcedthat he was awake.
Then the township relapsed into silence. Snowfell leisurely between old gabled roofs. Underjutting eaves streets crept forth from all sides,crooked, suspicious, like conspirators. Wherethey met they formed a ramshackle square. Inthe middle of the square the Servites’ Fountain[Pg 3]played in front of the chur