, lest they should remark
how they trembled, and strove to smile.

"Sir," he said in a hesitating voice, which often refused to serve him:
"although I have nothing to say against it, yet you have told your story
at an unfortunate time and in an ill-chosen place:--this young lady is
Mr. Gyali's fiancee and to-day we had prepared for the wedding."

"I am heartily glad that I prevented it," said Desiderius, without being
in the least disturbed at this discovery. "I think I am doing my
relations a good service by staying them at the point where they would
have fallen over a precipice."

"You are a master-hand at that," said Madame Balnokhazy with scornful
bitterness. She remembered how he had done her a service by a similar
intervention--just ten years ago. "Well, as you have succeeded so
perfectly in rescuing us from the precipice, perhaps we may hope for the
honor of your presence at the friendly conclusion of this spoiled
matrimonial banquet?"

Madame Balnokhazy's wandering life had whetted her cynicism.

It was a direct hint for them to go.

"We are very much obliged for the kind invitation," replied Lorand
courteously, paying her back in the same coin of sweetness, "but they
are expecting us at home."

"Hearts too, which one may not trifle with," continued Desiderius.

"Then, of course, we should not think of stealing you away," continued
Madame Balnokhazy, touched to the quick. "Kindly greet, in our names,
dear Czipra and dear Fanny. We are very fond indeed of the good girls,
and wish you much good fortune with them. The arms of Aronffy, too, find
an explanation therein: the half-moon will in one case mean a
horse-shoe, in the other a bread-roll. Adieu, dear Lorand! Adieu, dear
Desi!"

Then arm-in-arm they departed and hurried home to Topandy's house.

Madame's last outburst had thrown Desiderius into an entirely good
humor. That was the first thing about which he began to converse with
Topandy. Madame Balnokhazy had congratulated the Aronffy arms on the
possession of a "horse-shoe" and a "roll," a gypsy girl and a baker's
daughter!

But Lorand did not laugh at it:--what a fathomless deep hatred that
woman must treasure in her heart against him, that she could break out
so! And was she not right that woman who had desired the young man to
embrace her, and thus embracing her to rush on to the precipice, into
shame and death, and damnation, if he could love really:--had she no
right to scorn, him who had f