y good Bela! I don't mind. I am used to
jealousies: the petty ones of my own sex are quite endurable; it is when
you men are jealous that we poor women often have to suffer. Leopold
Hirsch, who is courting me, you know, is so madly jealous at times. He
scarce can bear anyone to look at me. As if I could help not being
plain, eh?"

Then she turned with a smile to Elsa.

"I don't think, my dear," she said dryly, "that you are treating Bela
quite fairly. He won't let you suffer from his jealousies; why should
you annoy him with yours?"

Another glance through her long, dark lashes on both the men, and Klara
Goldstein turned to go. But before she could take a step toward the
door, Bela's masterful hand was on her wrist.

"What are you doing?" he asked roughly.

"Going, my good Bela," she replied airily, "going. What else can I do? I
am not wanted here now, or later at your feast; but there are plenty in
this village and around it who will make me welcome, and their company
will be more pleasing to me, I assure you, than that of your friends. We
thought of having some tarok[5] this evening. Leopold will be with us,
and the young Count is coming. He loves a gamble, and is most amusing
when he is in the mood. So I am going where I shall be most welcome, you
see."

[Footnote 5: A game of cards--the source of much gambling in that part
of Europe.]

She tried to disengage her wrist, but he was holding her with a tight,
nervous grip.

"You are not going to do anything of the sort," he muttered hoarsely;
"she is daft, I tell you. Stay here, can't you?"

"Not I," she retorted, with a laugh. "Enough of your friends' company,
my good Bela, is as good as a feast. Look at Elsa's face! And Andor's!
He is ready to eat me, and she to freeze the marrow in my bones. So
farewell, my dear man; if you want any more of my company," she added
pointedly, "you know where to get it."

She had succeeded in freeing her wrist, and the next moment was standing
under the lintel of the door, the afternoon sun shining full upon her
clinging gown, her waving feathers and the gew-gaws which hung round her
neck. For a moment she stood still, blinking in the glare, her hands,
which trembled a little from the emotion of the past little scene,
fumbled with her parasol.

Bela turned like a snarling beast upon his fiancee.

"Ask her to stop," he cried savagely. "Ask her to stop, I tell you!"

"Keep your temper, my good Bela," said Klara over her s