, and sent him
to tell Wibra's coachman, who was waiting with the dog-cart outside Mrs.
Muencz's shop, to go and put up in his courtyard.

After a few minutes, Mrs. Mravucsan appeared at the Town Hall to take
the ladies home with her. She was a short, stout, amiable woman, whose
broad, smiling face spoke of good temper and kindheartedness. She was
dressed like all women of the middle class in that part, in a dark red
skirt and black silk apron, and on her head she wore a black silk
frilled cap.

She entered the room noisily, as such simple village folks do.

"Well, I never!" she exclaimed. "Mravucsan says you are going to be our
guests. Is it true? What an honor for us! But I knew it, I felt it, for
last night I dreamed a white lily was growing out of my basin, and this
is the fulfilment of the dream. Well, my dear, get all your things
together, and I'll carry them across, for I'm as strong as a bear. But I
forgot to tell you the most important thing, which I really ought to
have said at the beginning: I am Mrs. Mravucsan. Oh, my dear young lady,
I should never have thought you were so pretty! Holy Virgin! Now I
understand her sending down an umbrella to keep the rain off your pretty
face! So the poor lady is ill, has hurt her shoulder? Well, I've got a
capital plaster we'll put on it; come along. Don't give way, my dear, it
has to be borne. Why, I had a similar accident once, Mravucsan was
driving too. We fell into a ditch, and two of my ribs were broken, and
I've had trouble with my liver ever since. Such things will happen now
and then. Does it hurt you very much?"

"The lady does not speak Slovak," said Veronica, "nor Hungarian."

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Mravucsan, clasping her hands. "So old,
and can't even speak Hungarian! How is that?"

And Veronica was obliged to explain that madame had come direct from
Munich to be her companion, and had never yet been in Hungary; she was
the widow of a French officer, she added, for Mrs. Mravucsan insisted on
having full particulars. They had received a letter from her the day
before yesterday, saying she was coming, and Veronica had wanted to meet
her at the station.

"So that is how it is. And she can't even speak Slovak nor Hungarian!
Poor unhappy woman! And what am I to do with her?--whom am I to put next
her at table?--how am I to offer her anything? Well, it will be a nice
muddle! Luckily the schoolmaster can speak German, and perhaps the young
gentleman