wedding feast on
the morrow. Once more the invalid father, hoisted up on the shoulders of
the same sturdy lads, led the procession out of the schoolhouse, then
followed all the guests, helter-skelter, young men and maids, old men
and matrons.

The wide petticoats got in the way, the men were over bold in squeezing
the girls' waists in the general scramble, there was a deal of laughing
and plenty of shouting as hot, perspiring hands were held out one by one
to Elsa and to Bela, and voices, hoarse with merriment, proffered the
traditional "_Egessegire!_" (your very good health!), and then, like so
many birds let out of a cage, streamed out of the narrow door into the
sunlit street.

Andor had acquitted himself of the same duty, and Elsa's cool little
hand had rested for a few seconds longer than was necessary in his own
brown one. She had murmured the necessary words of invitation for the
ceremonies on the morrow, and he was still standing in the doorway when
Klara Goldstein was about to take her leave.

Klara had stayed very ostentatiously to the last, just as if she were
the most intimate friend or an actual member of the family; she had
stood beside Bela during the general exodus, her small, dark head,
crowned with the gorgeous picture hat, held a little on one side, her
two gloved hands resting upon the handle of her parasol, her foot in its
dainty shoe impatiently tapping the ground.

As the crowd passed by, scrambling in their excitement, starched
petticoats crumpled, many a white shirt stained with wine, hot,
perspiring and panting, a contemptuous smile lingered round her thin
lips, and from time to time she made a remark to Bela--always in German,
so that the village folk could not understand. But Andor, who had
learned more than his native Hungarian during his wanderings abroad,
heard these sneering remarks, and hated the girl for speaking them, and
Bela for the loud laugh with which he greeted each sally.

Now she held out her small, thin hand to Elsa.

"Your good health, my dear Elsa!" she said indifferently.

After an obvious moment of hesitation, Elsa put her toil-worn, shapely
little hand into the gloved one for an instant and quickly withdrew it
again. There was a second or two of silence. Klara did not move: she was
obviously waiting for the invitation which had been extended to everyone
else.

A little nervously she began toying with her parasol.

"The glass is going up; you will have fine weat