s a youngish man--not fifty, I imagine," concluded Irma
with a sneer. "He may live another thirty years, and Elsa would be an
old woman herself by then."

The other woman said nothing more after that. It was no use arguing the
point. Irma was the wife of old Kapus--both of them as shiftless,
thriftless, ill-conditioned a pair as ever stole the daylight from God
in order to waste it in idleness. How they came to be blessed with such
a pretty, winning daughter as Elsa an all too-indulgent God only knew.

What, however, was well known throughout the village was that as Kapus
and his wife never had a crown to bless themselves with, and had never
saved enough to earn a rest for themselves in their old age, they had
long ago determined that their daughter should be the means of bringing
prosperity to them as soon as she was old enough for the
marriage-market.

Elsa was beautiful! Thank the good God for that! Kapus had never saved
enough to give her a marriage-portion either, and had she been ugly, or
only moderately pretty, it would have been practically impossible to
find a husband for her. But if she became the beauty of Marosfalva--as
indeed she was already--there would be plenty of rich men who would be
willing to waive the question of the marriage-portion for the sake of
the glory of having captured the loveliest matrimonial prize in the
whole countryside.

"Leave Irma neni alone, mother," said the man who had first taken up the
cudgels in favour of Andor; "we all know that she has very ambitious
views for Elsa. Please God she may not be disappointed."

From more than one group of spectators came similar or other comments on
pretty Elsa and her partner. The general consensus of opinion seemed to
be that it was as well Andor was going away for three years. Old Kapus
and his wife would never allow their daughter to marry a man with
pockets as empty as their own, and it was no use waiting for dead men's
shoes. Lakatos Pal, the rich uncle, from whom Andor was bound to inherit
some day, was little past the prime of life. Until he died how would
Andor and a penniless wife contrive to live? For Lakatos Pal was a miser
and hoarded his money--moreover, he was a confirmed bachelor and
woman-hater; he would do nothing for Andor if the young man chose to
marry.

Ah, well! it was a pity! for a better-looking, better-matched pair could
not be found in the whole county of Arad.

"Lucky for you, Bela, that Andor goes off to-day