Part 51 (1/2)
Melanie answered this question merely with her eyes. But Czipra might have been content with the answer. He was at any rate as handsome a man in Melanie's eyes as Lorand was in hers.
”Shall you be his wife?”
At this question Melanie held up her fine left hand before Czipra, raising the fourth finger higher than the rest. On it was a ring.
Czipra drew the ring off her finger and looked closely at it. She saw letters inside it. If she only knew those!
”Is this his name?”
”His initials.”
”He is called?”
”Joseph Gyali.”
Czipra put the ring on again. She was very contented with this discovery. The ring of an old love, who was a handsome man, excellent, and celebrated, was there on her finger. Peace was hallowed. Now she believed thoroughly in Melanie, she believed that the indifference Melanie showed towards Lorand was no mere pretence. The field was already occupied by another.
But if she was quite at rest as regards Melanie, she could be less a.s.sured as to the peaceful intentions of Lorand's eyes.
How those eyes feasted themselves every day on Melanie's countenance!
Of course, who could be indignant if men's eyes were attracted by the ”beautiful?” It has ever been their privilege.
But it is the marvellous gift of woman's eyes to be able to tell the distinction between look and look. Through the prism of jealousy the eye-beam is refracted to its primary colors; and this wonderful optical a.n.a.lysis says: this is the twinkle of curiosity, that the coquettish ogle, this the fire of love, that the dark-blue of abstraction.
Czipra had not studied optics, but this optical a.n.a.lysis she understood very well.
She did not seem to be paying attention; it seemed as if she did not notice, as if her eyes were not at work; yet she saw and knew everything.
Lorand's eyes feasted upon the beautiful maiden's figure.
Every time he saw her, they dwelt upon her: as the bee feasts upon the invisible honey of the flower, and slowly a suspicion dawned upon Czipra. Every glance was a home-returning bee who brings home the honey of love to a humming heart.
Besides, Czipra might have known it from the fact that Lorand, ever since Melanie came to the house, had been more reserved towards her. He had found his presence everywhere more needful, that he might be so much less at home.
Czipra could not bear the agony long.
Once finding Lorand alone, she turned to him in wanton sarcasm.
”It is certain, my friend Balint,” (that was Lorand's alias) ”that we are casting glances at that young girl in vain, for she has a fiance already.”
”Indeed?” said Lorand, caressing the girl's round chin, for all the world as if he was touching some delicate flower-bud.
”Why all this tenderness at once? If I were to look so much at a girl, I would long ago have taken care to see if she had a ring on her finger:--it is generally an engagement ring.”
”Well, and do I look very much at that girl?” enquired Lorand in a jesting tone.
”As often as I look at you.”