e!" cried the count.

"I mean those blue stuff gowns with white spots, which lend quite a
peculiar charm to our women, especially if you set it off with an
old-fashioned _csipkekoeto_."[29]

[Footnote 29: A Hungarian headdress made of black lace. The dress
suggested was also of native Hungarian manufacture worn at one time by
the greatest ladies.]

At the very next _soiree_ the Countess Kengyelesy was attired in one of
these blue stuff gowns with white spots, of home manufacture, and with a
black lace head-dress--exactly as Szilard had described it to her.

"My dear friend, be so good as to look there!" said the count
appropriating Szilard while he was still only half through the doorway.
"There she is costumed from head to foot exactly as you advised. Ah! I
pity you. You are already in the toils."

Szilard hastened at once to greet the countess, who treated the handsome
young fellow with marked distinction all through the evening. Indeed she
made no secret of it.

Three days later Szilard was bound, by custom to pay a complimentary
visit upon the Countess. He purposely chose an hour when he knew she
would not be at home, and left his card, but the same evening he
encountered her at the theatre. It was in the entrance hall, where she
was waiting for her carriage, and till it drove up Szilard could not
very well leave her.

"Ah, ah! my honoured friend," cried the countess archly, "this won't do.
You wait till I am not at home, and then you go and leave your card
upon me as a token of respect. But I don't mean to let you off so
easily. I have got a lot to say to you which I am determined you shall
listen to. You must therefore promise to come to my house at twelve
o'clock to-morrow, or else I shall astonish the world by inviting you to
come along with me this instant in my carriage."

A man, in another mood, could scarcely have resisted the temptation of
replying that he would be delighted if the countess put her threat into
execution then and there, even at the risk of astonishing the world.
Szilard merely looked grave and said that he would be happy to pay his
respects to the countess at twelve on the morrow.

He went accordingly. His pulses beat no more quickly than usual as he
entered the countess's private apartment, although she gave the footman
to understand in a low voice that she would be at home to nobody else,
and invited the young man to sit down close beside her, face to face.

The countess was a