le and lifted it. Rozsi clapped her hands. "Ah I now I
see--how strong you are!" She made him a curtsey and whisked round
to the window. He found the quick intelligence of her eyes confusing;
sometimes they seemed to look beyond him at something invisible--this,
too, confused him. From Margit he learned that they had been two
years in England, where their father had made his living by teaching
languages; they had now been a year in Salzburg.

"We wait," suddenly said. Rozsi; and Margit, with a solemn face,
repeated, "We wait."

Swithin's eyes swelled a little with his desire to see what they were
waiting for. How queer they were, with their eyes that gazed beyond him!
He looked at their figures. 'She would pay for dressing,' he thought,
and he tried to imagine Rozsi in a skirt with proper flounces, a thin
waist, and hair drawn back over her ears. She would pay for dressing,
with that supple figure, fluffy hair, and little hands! And instantly
his own hands, face, and clothes disturbed him. He got up, examined
the pistols on the wall, and felt resentment at the faded, dusty room.
'Smells like a pot-house!' he thought. He sat down again close to Rozsi.

"Do you love to dance?" she asked; "to dance is to live. First you
hear the music--how your feet itch! It is wonderful! You begin slow,
quick--quicker; you fly--you know nothing--your feet are in the air. It
is wonderful!"

A slow flush had mounted into Swithin's face.

"Ah!" continued Rozsi, her eyes fixed on him, "when I am dancing--out
there I see the plains--your feet go one--two--three--quick, quick,
quick, quicker--you fly."

She stretched herself, a shiver seemed to pass all down her. "Margit!
dance!" and, to Swithin's consternation, the two girls--their hands on
each other's shoulders--began shuffling their feet and swaying to and
fro. Their heads were thrown back, their eyes half-closed; suddenly the
step quickened, they swung to one side, then to the other, and began
whirling round in front of him. The sudden fragrance of rose leaves
enveloped him. Round they flew again. While they were still dancing,
Boleskey came into the room. He caught Swithin by both hands.

"Brother, welcome! Ah! your arm is hurt! I do not forget." His yellow
face and deep-set eyes expressed a dignified gratitude. "Let me
introduce to you my friend Baron Kasteliz."

Swithin bowed to a man with a small forehead, who had appeared softly,
and stood with his gloved hands touching his w