Part 59 (1/2)

”There will be no lack of courage.”

Topandy spoke of marriage, Lorand of a pistol.

”Well in a week's time I shall be able to give my blessing on your choice.”

”Certainly.”

Topandy did not wish to dive further into Lorand's secret. He suspected the young fellow was choosing between two girls, and did not imagine that he had already chosen a third:--the one with the down-turned torch.[69]

Lorand during the following days was as cheerful as a bridegroom during the week preceding his marriage--so cheerful!--as his father had been the evening before his death.

[Footnote 69: The torch, which should have been held upright for the marriage festivities, would be held upside down for the festivities of death, just as the life would be reversed.]

The last day but one came: May again, but not so chilly as ten years before. The air in the park was flower-perfumed, full of lark trills, and nightingale ditties.

Czipra was chasing b.u.t.terflies on the lawn.

Ever since Melanie had left the house, Czipra's sprightly mood had returned. She too played in the lovely spring, with the playful birds of song.

Lorand allowed her to draw him into her circle of playmates:

”How does this hyacinth look in my hair?”

”It suits you admirably, Czipra.”

The gypsy girl took off Lorand's hat, and crowned it with a wreath of leaves, then put it back again, changing its position again and again until she found out how it suited him best.

Then she pressed his hand under her arm, laid her burning face upon his shoulder, and thus strolled about with him.

Poor girl! She had forgotten, forgiven everything already!

Six days had pa.s.sed since that ruling rival had left the house: Lorand was not sad, did not pine after her, he was good-humored, witty, and playful; he enjoyed himself. Czipra believed their stars were once more approaching each other.

Lorand, the smiling and gay Lorand, was thinking that he had but one more day to live; and then--adieu to the perfumed fields, adieu to the songster's echo, adieu to the beautiful, love-lorn gypsy girl!

They went arm-in-arm across the bridge, that little bridge that spanned the brook. They stopped in the middle of the bridge and leaning upon the railing looked down into the water;--in the self same place where Melanie's engagement ring fell into the water. They gazed down into the water-mirror, and the smooth surface reflected their figures; the gypsy girl still wore a green dress, and a rose-colored sash, but Lorand still saw Melanie's face in that mirror.

In this place her hand had been in his: in that place she had said of the lost ring ”leave it alone:” in that place he had clasped her in his arms!

And to-morrow even that would cause no pain!

Topandy now joined them.

”Do you know what, Lorand?” said the old Manichean cheerily: ”I thought I would accompany you this afternoon to Szolnok. We must celebrate the day you meet your brother: we must drink to it!”

”Will you not take me with you?” inquired Czipra half in jest.

”No!” was the simultaneous reply from both sides.

”Why not?”