ther Blanka nor Manasseh had even
suspected what he was about.

Blanka found herself in the paradise of her dreams, and when her
attendants had placed a gold-embroidered cap on her head, and she came
forth again into the courtyard,--which was now crowded with eager
friends,--her hand in that of the man whose wife and queen she was
thenceforth to be, it seemed to her that the happiness of heaven itself
was her portion.

Five hundred guests partook of the wedding feast. Food and drink were
provided in plenty, and every heart was filled to overflowing with the
joy of the occasion. And yet, to Blanka herself, something was still
lacking. "If Jonathan and Zenobia were only here!" she could not but say
to herself, and her happiness was not quite complete without them.

Toward evening Aaron himself began to feel uneasy at their
non-appearance. He had nearly exhausted his ingenuity in quieting
Blanka's anxiety. Finally he played his last card.

"Now, my angel," said he, "you remember I promised you I would dance the
Szekler dance at your wedding. Have the goodness to pay attention, and
you will see something that is not to be seen every day."

The Szekler dance resembles no other terpsichorean exercise, nor is it
by any means easy of execution. It calls for sinews of steel and great
suppleness of limb. To make it still more difficult, the performer is
obliged to provide his own music by singing a merry popular ballad while
he dances. He throws himself first on one leg, then on the other,
bending his knee and sinking nearly to the floor, while he extends the
other leg straight before him, raises one hand above his head, and rests
the other on his hip. His heels must never touch the floor, nor may he,
while bobbing thus comically up and down and trolling his lively ditty,
suffer his face to relax from that expression of sober and dignified
earnestness which marks the true Szekler. It is a dance and a display of
great physical strength and endurance at the same time.

While Aaron's performance was still in progress, his brother Alexander
broke through the circle of spectators and whispered something in his
ear, whereupon the dancer immediately ceased his exhibition with the
cry, "They have come!"

With an exclamation of joy Blanka sprang up from her seat. She wished to
be the first to welcome the long-awaited pair.

"Sister-in-law," cried Alexander, "don't go out! Don't let her go out!"

But it was too late. Two horses s