there would be an end of the
matter. To-day he was still the groom, the servant of his
fiancee--to-morrow only would he become her master.

But everyone was so intent upon enjoyment that a long time went by
before gossip occupied itself exclusively with Eros Bela's absence from
his pre-nuptial feast. When once it began it raged with unusual
bitterness. The scandal during the banquet was being repeated now. Bela
was obviously sitting in the tap-room of the inn, flirting with the
Jewess, when he should have been in attendance on his bride.

Elsa could not help but hear the comments that were being made by all
the mothers and fathers and older people who were not dancing, and who,
therefore, had plenty of leisure for talk. All the proprieties were
being outraged--so it was declared--and Elsa, who might have married so
well at one time, was indeed now an object of pity.

She hated to hear all this talk, and felt hideously ashamed that people
should be pitying her. Vainly did she try to get some measure of comfort
from her mother. Kapus Irma, irritated by the looks of commiseration
which were being levelled at her daughter, dubbed the latter a fool for
not having the sense to know how to keep her bridegroom by her side.

It was past eight o'clock before Bela put in an appearance at all.

A csardas was in full swing. The compact group of dancers was crowded
round the musicians' platform, for the csardas can only be properly
danced under the very bow--as it were--of the gipsy leader. The barn
looked gaily lighted up with oil-lamps swinging down from the rafters
above, and it had been most splendidly decorated for the occasion with
festoons of paper flowers and tri-colour flags. Petticoats and ribbons
were flying, little feet in red leather boots were kicking up clouds of
dust.

There was no moon to-night, the sky was heavy with clouds, so the
village street had been very dark. Eros Bela blinked as he entered the
barn, so dazzling did the picture present itself to his gaze.

And there was such an atmosphere of merriment and of animation about the
place that instinctively Bela's thoughts flew back to the dismal and
dingy little tap-room whence he had just come, with a few drunken
fellows sprawling in corners and Leopold Hirsch's ugly face leering out
of the shadows.

Here everyone was gay and good-tempered. The gipsies scraped their
fiddles till one would have thought their arms would break, the young
people danced, th