and dogs, firing each other by recounting their past exploits,
making bets, and playing at cards. The ladies at such times are shelved
altogether.

During the actual hunting season the men are not to be seen for whole
weeks at a time, but off they go to the woods and stalk or lurk for
their prey in the midst of water and ice, and the ladies think it
nothing extraordinary if their husbands or lovers, as the case may be,
come back, or are carried back, drenched with rain, invisible for mud,
with their garments torn to shreds and their limbs mangled; for after
all it is the only manly diversion--the only diversion really fit for a
gentleman.

When the bear-hunting began, that heroic cripple, Squire Gerzson, also
appeared with Count Kengyelesy and numerous other familiar faces from
distant counties, who had all met together on the day after Henrietta's
wedding, and who regularly made Hidvar their autumn trysting-place.

Count Kengyelesy did not bring his wife with him: the little rogue on
her husband's departure declared that she was ill and remained
behind--_verbum sap_!

Henrietta was very much occupied by the duties of hospitality. She took
a pride in anticipating the wants of all her guests, and at the evening
_soirees_ she played the part of hostess with becoming _aplomb_.

One day the gentlemen with their beaters, rangers, dogs, and carts, had
all gone off to the forest as usual, and Henrietta was left alone in the
castle with Clementina, Margari, and the domestics. As for Margari, he
would not have gone to the woods for all the bears in the world.

Clementina, solemnly cackling gossip as usual, imparted to Henrietta
that the night before, when the gentlemen played at cards, the luck had
run dead against Hatszegi: Count Kengyelesy had won back from him the
whole of the Kengyelesy estate. "Thank God!" sighed Henrietta at this
glad intelligence. This was one of the things that had weighed down her
heart like a nightmare, one of the partition-walls, so to speak, which
had hitherto separated her from her husband. This, at any rate, had now
disappeared.

Clementina went on to say that my lord baron had not cared a straw for
this loss; nay, he had laughed and said that it only showed how lucky he
was in love. Henrietta applied the saying to herself and began to be
quite proud of it.

The count, however, pursued Clementina, had said that he durst not
rejoice in his winnings or that accursed Fatia Negra might rob hi