ispense with the services of go-betweens in such
affairs? Well, it would be a pretty thing indeed if she had wiped her
mother out of the reckoning altogether!

Away! Back to the coach! Back to Pressburg in hot haste, if the horses
died for it. But where could the girl be? What if she had gone quietly
off with Abellino in the meantime; or, still worse, with some one else,
and did not turn up at all? Oh, what bitter grief and anguish a mother's
heart has to contend with!

Meanwhile, all the guests were assembled in Mr. Kecskerey's saloons. One
after another bevies of charming women alighted at the entrance with
delicate coquetry, permitting the eye-glassed cavaliers to catch
glimpses of their tiny beribboned feet as they dismounted from their
equipages. In the hall, liveried footmen distributed tickets for shawls
and slippers. The master of the house, the honourable Mr. Kecskerey,
with dignified condescension, received the arrivals in the doorway.
Everybody knows that Kecskerey's money does not pay for the evening's
entertainment, and he himself knows that they know it. And yet, for all
that, they bow and scrape to one another as politely as if he were a
real host and they were real guests. Mr. Kecskerey's shrill nasal voice
resounded above all the din and bustle.

"I am so delighted that you have not rejected my modest invitation. Your
excellency has, indeed, honoured my poor house by your presence.
Mesdames, so kind of you not to forget the most sincere of your
servants. Sir, it is really too good of you to neglect your important
studies on my account! Countess, your siren song is generally
acknowledged to be the gem of the evening, etc."

The amiable host laid himself out to make the diversion of his guests as
free and unconstrained as possible. Those who did not know and wished to
know each other were immediately introduced, though it is possible that
they had known each other of old, without his or any one else's
intervention. He gave the poets printed sheets, in which they could read
their own works. He made the musicians sit down before the piano, and
placed behind their backs some one to praise them, and he possessed the
art of saying something obliging, something interesting, to every one;
he scattered freshly done-up gossip and piquant anecdotes amongst the
thronging crowds, he knew how to make tea better than any one else, and
his eye was upon everybody, so that nobody felt neglected. A model host,
indeed!