THERESA.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VIII, Issue 50, 12 December 1891, Page 688

THERESA.

HE beautiful young Countess Telka t| Erdodi was happy. In its cradle lay I her first child, her little daughter. 1 The babe had been baptized, and in its ears had been placed its first ear- - ‘ rings of red gold, their fastening a Wb* ,33 <J? coronet. Half the nurse's time would yC be spent in keeping the infant from Y- flI tearing these torments from its ears. \ . / But the custom must be observed at k any cost. The old great grandmother who ' la ‘l once " orn them herself, had ' placed them in the ears of her daughter, \ her daughter's daughter, and now- in the wrinkled, pink rose leaves of this small babe. Its cap, stiff with embroidery, stood high upon its head, and its robe, ornamented in the same way, was very beautiful. This was its state costume. It had been exhibited to its relatives and friends, had cooed and crowed and behaved itself perfectly, and now its nurse would array it in the little quilted gown which was kept for ordinary wear, and lull it to sleep. There was to be a feast and afterwards dancing and music in honour of the occasion. The whole household was happy, and grief and trouble seemed so far away, that it might have been banished from the world. Attired in robes of rich fabric, jewels in her hair and in her ears, about her neck and arms and at her belt, the countess kissed her babe and descended the stairs, her train borne over the arm of her waiting-maid. As she entered the ureat hall, all saluted her, they uttered her name, the wine-cups were drained to her health, the health of the count, her husband, and that of the newly christened child Theresa.

The servants gathered about the door. Only the nurse with her white cap and apron, her voluminous silk dress, her gay stockings and round-toed shoes remained alone in the nursery. It seemed very dull and stupid there. What was the use of wearing a silk dress with so many yards in it and a cap of lace like that, if one was to be hidden away up there with a baby, however high-born ? She thought of her peasant-husband and of her own babe that she had left to earn money by being the foster-mother of this tiny aristocrat. There amongst her neighbours she was no one’s slave. She revolted against her bondage. ‘Bah! My little Ivan sleeps very well without being stared at,’ she said. ‘ Why not this one ?’ And leaving the room, she stole down the stairs and gained a spot where she could look and listen like the rest. The feast was over ; the dancing had begun. The chief peasants of the place, in their picturesque costumes were performing before the high-born ladies and gentlemen. A handsome young man advanced toward a young woman, singing or chanting an invitation to dance. She bade him wait until she had spun her flax. The other young people joined in with words which, roughly interpreted meant : • Dance now. While spinning flax, the dance is over. While spinning, love flies away. Dance while you can.’ Then all danced, each youth with a maiden, and ended by bowing, hand in hand, before the great folk, who gave them gold, drink to the men and sweetmeats to the women. ‘They have a better dance in my village,’ said the nurse ; ‘ the dance of the sunrise.

• You will have the pleasure of returning to your native village to see it, Sodrina, if you leave the baby to itself much longer,’ said a voice in her ear. ‘l’m no tale bearer, but my lady’s own maid is coming this way.’ Sodrina, frightened at the idea of losing her good wages, Hed back to the nursery. Thus she missed the beautiful spectacle of the gathering of the great folk on the floor for their raise.

Oh, what music was that which the orchestra in the gallery discoursed ! It sighed, it trembled, it touched young hearts with new thoughts, and awoke old memories in those of the elder people. Strong arms encircled delicate waists ; passionate eyes looked into tender ones. Away, away ! Who danced more lightly or smiled more gaily than the Countess Telka ?

Suddenly screams, shrieks of terror, weeping and wailing, filled the halls and stairways. Into the great hall rushed the nurse, Sodrina, followed by the other servants, calling on their master, repeating the word ‘ (lone ! (lone '. Gone !’ over and over again. Gone, vanished, carried away by evil spirits or wicked fairies The babe, the child of the house, the little Countess Theresa—gone, gone ! the dance ended, the music stopped, all flew to the nursery, half hoping that all this outcry was caused by some superstitious fancy of its peasant nurse ; for no babe of her age eonld leave its pillow, and who could bear it away 1

Alas ! the cradle was really empty, the silken coverlet gone, the linen sheets lying upon the floor, one little sock dropped upon the window-sill, beneath which ran a balcony with steps to the garden, and pinned to the pillow was a piece of paper, on which were written these words :

* It is not so long since you persecuted the gipsies that you can have forgotten them. You bade your servants drive them from your land and beat them with thongs. " Ungodly dogs." you said. “ I would throw them to the bears, if 1 had my way. Their religion is of lard, and the dogs have eaten it. No Christian need regard them." And my boy died of those blows—my son. Though the gipsies have no God. they keep their oaths. I vowed revenge that day : I have taken it this. Before you read what I write I shall have thrown your babe to the bears; and they, hungry in the winter woods, will have devoured it. A Gipsy Mother.' The count uttered a cry of despair. With all the other men within call, he went forth to follow the gipsy woman and seek his child. But they found no trace of them, though in the frozen forests they heard the bears howl from their caves. Days after, a peasant gathering faggots in the woods, found a ribbon that had tied the child's sock, floating from a <1 waif evergreen near a great bear's den. The discovery crushed the last lingering hope that filled the mother’s heart—that the gipsy mother had not, after all, found it possible to l>e so cruel to an innocent babe, ami that money might give her back her child. From that time the count and the countess no longer knew appiness. A settled melancholy rested upon them, was

visible in their voices and stamped upon their countenances : and they received, besides their dearest friends, only the most formal visits of ceremony, and continually wore deep mourning. Time seemed to have no power to soothe their woe, and no other children came to comfort them.

In Hungary, at that date, there were many places in which the bears grew dangerous at times, and hunts, which were considered good sport, became Necessary for the protection of those who lived near the forests. It was twelve years from the time of the disappearance of the count’s little daughter when one of these hunts was organized. The bears, who in mild weather will live contentedly on nuts, roots, berries, and honey, would in winter, when these could not be found, descend upon the farms, carry away the little pigs, chickens and all small domestic animals, and, if attacked, turn upon human beings, and, seizing them in their furious embrace, tear them to pieces with their sharp claws.

This thing had happened to a farmer who defended his stock, and now from hill and valley, from cottage and castle, came forth armed and mounted men to do battle against these usually innocent creatures. Some in revenge, some for sport, some for the sake of the flesh which they esteemed good meat. Amongst the gentlemen was the Count Erdodi. He rode at the head of the concourse into the forest, and desired nothing so much as to be foremost in the destruction of the bears.

The words of the gipsy’s letter were ever in his mind —‘ I will throw your child to the bears.’ Perhaps it might be that he should slay with his own hands the brute who had devoured his babe ; the thought gave him a certain savage joy. The hunters were very successful, and, after killing many bears, came at last, just at nightfall, upon a cave from which emerged a large and savage she bear, who attacked them furiously. Her conduct convinced them that she was defending her cubs—under such circumstances the strength and courage of a female bear is astonishing. However, they conquered her at last, slew her, and were about to enter the cave in search of the cubs, when from its shadows emerged a form that filled them for an instant with superstitions terror.

At first they thought it some elfin thing of the woods, or a spirit that dwelt within the cave, but its conduct soon proved it some harmless human being, as with shrieks of grief and terror, moans and cries that wrung every bosom, it threw itself upon the body of the bear, and lavished embraces, tears, and kisses upon it, strove to lift its head and vainly endeavoured to drag it back into the eave. It was. they now saw, a girl, slender and dark. Her black hair was long and wild, her eyes glowing and gleaming like jewels. When they touched the bear she attacked them with her nails and her little white teeth, and uttered fierce cries : and at last, when they endeavoured to seize her, she evaded them by climbing into the branches of a tree and ascending swiftly as a squirrel to its upper branches. It was very difficult to capture her ; but at last, she was bound and wrapped in Count Erdodi’s cloak, and a stout peasant undertook to carry her back to the village with him.

1 It is some child who has been lost in the woods,’ he cried. ‘ See—there are rings in her ears.’ At these words, Count Erdodi, pale as ashes, dismounted from his horse and rushed forward. Bending over the palpitating being, he gazed upon its little ears, and saw, embedded in the flesh of each, a thread of gold which held a tiny jewelled coronet. His lost child was found. The bear whom th“y had killed had frustrated the gipsy’s designs by becoming its foster-mother. Before they left the spot the hunters gave the poor animal Christian burial ; for surelv the creature had had a tender heart within its breast. Tears took the place of prayers and afterwards the count marked the spot with a stone. The little Countess Theresa was taken home. Kind treatment and caresses soon tamed her. She learned to love her parents and to speak. Tn two or three years she could prattle very prettily and tell her strange experiences. According to her, the bear had certain modulations of voice by which it made known its wishes to her. It could call her, reprove her, or warn her of danger. If she screamed, it came to her at once. At night she slept on its bosom. When Theresa began to understand the meaning of words, she always spoke of the animal as; ‘Good mother bear.’ She always loved it, and nothing pleased her more than when her father erected in his gardens—where all who chose may see it to this day—a fountain, in the midst of whose waters is a marble bear holding tenderly in her embrace a little, new-born babe. Beneath is this inscription : ' WHEN BRUTES HAVE HEARTS MUST THEY NOT ALSO HAVE SOULS f And all this is perfectly true ; and some people live, no doubt, who remember it all; for an account of the discovery of the wild child who had been nurtured by a she-bear and her restoration to her parents was given in the periodical known as the Gazette des Portes de Frankfort , March, 1805.