ely that she loved him in
return.

And now it was in the csardas that she was bidding farewell to-day to
her girlhood and to the companions of her youth; to Jeno and Moritz, who
had loved her ardently and hopelessly these past two years, and who must
henceforth become to her mere friends. It was in the turns and the
twirls, with the wild music marking step, that she conveyed all that
there was in her simple heart of regret for the past and cheerful
anticipation for the future.

Elsa was a perfect dancer; it was a joy to have her for a partner, and
she was indefatigable this afternoon. It seemed as if living fire was in
her blood, her cheeks glowed, her eyes shone like dark-blue stars; she
gave herself neither rest nor respite. Determined to enjoy every minute
of the day, she had forcibly put behind her the sorrowful incidents of
the afternoon. She would not remember and she would not think.

Andor was not here, and as the spirit of music and of dancing crept more
and more into her brain, she almost got to the stage of believing that
his appearance to-day had only been a dream. Nor would she look to see
if Eros Bela were here.

She knew that he had gone off soon after dancing began. He had slipped
away quietly, and at first no one had noticed his absence. He had always
professed a lofty contempt for gipsy music and for the csardas, a
contempt which has of late come into fashion in Hungary among the upper
classes, and has unfortunately been aped by those whose so-called
education has only succeeded in obliterating the fine national spirit of
the past without having the power to graft more modern Western culture
into this Oriental race.

Eros Bela belonged to this same supercilious set, and had made many
enemies by his sarcastic denunciations of things that were almost
thought sacred in Marosfalva. It was therefore quite an understood thing
that the moment a csardas was struck up, Eros Bela at once went to seek
amusement elsewhere.

Of course to-day was a very different occasion to the more usual village
entertainments. To-day he should have thought of nothing but his
fiancee's pleasure. She was over-fond of dancing, and looked a picture
when she danced. It was clearly a bridegroom's duty, under these
circumstances, to stand by and watch his fiancee with all the admiration
that should be filling his heart.

After the wedding, if he disapproved of the csardas, why of course he
could forbid his wife to dance it, and