Part 21 (1/2)
”For a man of your education, Bela,” said Klara, with an insinuating smile, ”it must be odiously dull. You would far rather have had a game of cards, wouldn't you now?”
”I would far rather have had you at that infernal dance, so as to have had somebody to talk to,” he retorted savagely.
”Oh!” she said demurely, ”that would never have done. Elsa must have such a lot to say to you herself. It would not be seemly for me to stand in the way.”
”Elsa, as you know, has that silly csardas on the brain. She has been dancing ever since six o'clock and has only given me about ten minutes of her company. She seems to belong to-night to every young fool that can dance, rather than to me.”
”Ah well! When you are married you can stop all that, my good Bela. You can forbid your wife to dance the csardas, you know. I know many men who do it. Then Elsa will learn to appreciate the pleasure of your conversation. Though she is no longer very young, she is still very ignorant. You will have to educate her . . . bring her up to your own level of intelligence and of learning. In the meanwhile, do sit down and drink with those who, like yourself, have come here for an hour or two to break the monotony of perpetual czigany music and dancing.”
She busied herself with drawing the corks of a number of bottles, which she then transferred from the end of the room where she stood to the tables at which sat her customers; she also brought out some fresh gla.s.ses. Bela watched her for a moment or two in silence, unconscious of the fact that he, too, was being watched by a pair of pale eyes in which lurked a gleam of jealousy and of hate. Suddenly, as Klara brushed past him carrying bottles and gla.s.ses, he took hold of her by the elbow and drew her close to him.
”These louts won't stay late to-night, will they?” he whispered in her ear.
”No, not late,” she replied; ”they will go on to the barn in time for the supper, you may be sure of that. Why do you ask?”
”I will have the supper served at ten o'clock,” he continued to whisper, ”but I'll not sit down to it. Not without you.”
”Don't be foolish, Bela,” she retorted. But even as he spoke, a little gleam of satisfaction, of gratified vanity, of antic.i.p.atory revenge, shot through her velvety dark eyes.
”I warned Elsa,” he continued sullenly; ”I told her that if you were not at the feast, I should not be there either. She has disobeyed me. I must punish her.”
”So?” she rejoined, with an acid smile. ”It is only in order to punish Elsa that you want to sup with me?”
”Don't be stupid, Klara,” he retorted. ”I'll come at ten o'clock. Will you have some supper ready for me then? I have two or three bottles of French champagne over at my house--I'll bring them along. Will you be ready for me?”
”Be silent, Bela,” she broke in hurriedly. ”Can't you see that that fool Leo is watching us all the time?”
”Curse, him! What have I got to do with him?” muttered Bela savagely.
”You will be ready for me, Klara?”
”No!” she said decisively. ”Better make your peace with Elsa. I'll have none of her leavings. I've had all I wanted out of you to-day--the banquet first and now your coming here. . . . It'll be all over the village presently--and that's all I care about. Have a drink now,” she added good-humouredly, ”and then go and make your peace with Elsa . . .
if you can.”
She turned abruptly away from him, leaving him to murmur curses under his breath, and went on attending to her customers; nor did he get for the moment another opportunity of speaking with her, for Leopold Hirsch hovered round her for some considerable time after that, and presently, with much noise and pomp and circ.u.mstance, no less a personage than the n.o.ble young Count himself graced the premises of Ignacz Goldstein the Jew with his august presence.
CHAPTER XIX
”Now go and fetch the key.”
He belonged to the ancient family of Rakosy, who had owned property on both banks of the Maros for the past eight centuries, and Feri Rakosy, the twentieth-century representative of his mediaeval forbears, was a good-looking young fellow of the type so often met with among the upper cla.s.ses in Hungary: quite something English in appearance--well set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed from the top of his smooth brown hair to the tips of his immaculately-shod feet--in the eyes an expression of habitual boredom, further accentuated by the slight, affected stoop of the shoulders and a few premature lines round the nose and mouth; and about his whole personality that air of high-breeding and of good, pure blood which is one of the chief characteristics of the true Hungarian aristocracy.
He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Eros Bela and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips.
While he held her one hand rather longer than was necessary she, with the other, took his hat from him, and then, laughing coquettishly, she pointed to a parcel which was causing the pocket of his well-cut Norfolk jacket to bulge immoderately.
”Is that something for me?” she asked.