hen have heard a strange tale which might have deterred them
from finding in Molnar's hideousness encouragement to pursue his wife
with gallantries.

CHAPTER II.

Yes, Molnar's wife had the devil in her, and it was her family
heritage. Her father, a poor cottager and day labourer, had been in
his youth one of the most notorious and boldest brawlers in the
neighborhood; even now, when prematurely aged and half-broken down by
want and hard work, people willingly avoided him and did not sit at the
same table in the tavern if it could be helped. In former years he had
been a frequent inmate of the county prison, where the bruises and cuts
received in the brawl on whose account he was incarcerated had time to
heal; two years before he had been in jail three months because he had
used a manure-fork to prevent a tax-collector from seizing his bed, and
the beautiful Panna had then gone to the capital once or twice a week
to carry him cheese, wine, bread, and underclothing, and otherwise make
his situation easier, so far as she could.

The family vice of sudden fits of passion had increased to a tragedy in
the destiny of the only son. He was a handsome fellow, slender as a
pine-tree, the image of his sister, whom he loved with a tenderness
very unusual among peasants; he early became the supporter and
companion of his father in his Sunday brawls, and the village was not
at all displeased when he was drafted into the army. It would have
been an easy matter, as he was an only son, to release him from
military service, but he was obliged to go because two fathers of
soldiers could not be found in the village to give the testimony
necessary for his liberation. He became a conscript in 1865, and, a
year after, the double war between Prussia and Italy broke out. The
young fellow's regiment was stationed in the Venetian provinces. One
night he was assigned to outpost duty in the field; the enemy was not
near, it was mid-summer, a sultry night, and the poor wretch fell
asleep. Unfortunately, the commander of the guard, a young lieutenant
full of over-zeal for the service, was inspecting the outposts and
discovered the sleeper, to whom he angrily gave a kick to recall him to
consciousness of his duty. The lad started up, and without hesitation
or reflection, dealt his assailant a furious blow in the face. There
was a great uproar, soldiers rushed forward, and had the utmost
difficulty in mastering the enraged young fel