poor peasant wanted to kiss Banfy's hand but he would not allow
it. The tears stood in his eyes.

"That is what I am your master for--to lighten your fate if I see you
in need. My agents will carry out my orders; if my own granaries
become empty they must order grain for you from Moldavia for cash,"
and with that he went away.

* * * * *

Banfy's wife listened with throbbing heart as the familiar footsteps
came nearer. There she sat among the fragrant jasmine and quivering
mimosa, as tremulous as the mimosa and as pale as the jasmine.
Everything about her shone with splendor. On the walls hung polished
Venetian mirrors in gold frames, portraits of kings and princes, the
most beautiful of which was John Kemeny's, painted when he was still
attached to the Turk, with smooth shaven hair and a long beard, at
that time quite fashionable with Hungarian gentlemen. On one side of
the room was an artistic cabinet with countless drawers, inlaid with
mother-of-pearl, lapis lazuli and tortoise-shell. In the middle of the
room stood a beautifully painted table with wonderfully wrought silver
candelabra; in glass cases the family jewels were displayed to view,
beakers covered with precious stones; stags enameled in gold, their
heads made to unscrew; several large silver baskets of flowers,
marvels of filagree work, hardly worth a dollar in weight; the
bouquets in these baskets were of various-colored jewels; a gold
butterfly alighted on an emerald leaf, so cunningly made that
everything gleamed through its wings as it swayed gracefully. From the
high windows heavy red silk curtains hung down to the ground and the
sills were covered with the most beautiful flowers of those times.
Amid all these flowers only the quivering mimosa and the pale jasmine
seemed suited to the lady, so melancholy a contrast did her face make
to the splendor of her house.

The delicate little figure was almost lost in the high-vaulted room,
in which she could with difficulty move one of the heavy armchairs or
lift one of the huge candelabra or push aside a hanging. Every noise,
every footstep set her nerves quivering. When the familiar step
touched her threshold all the blood streamed into her face. She wanted
to jump up to meet him but after the door opened she turned pale again
and was unable to rise from her seat. Banfy hurried toward his
trembling wife whose voice was too stifled for words, clasped both her
hands, delicat