Part 21 (2/2)

”Of course it is,” he replied lightly; ”I bought it at the fair in Arad for you to-day.”

”How thoughtful of you!” she said, with a little sigh of pleasure.

”Thoughtful?” he retorted, laughing pleasantly. ”My good Klara, if I hadn't thought of you I would have died of boredom this afternoon. Here, give me a gla.s.s of your father's best wine and I'll tell you.”

He sat down with easy familiarity on the corner of the table which served as a counter. Klara, after this, had eyes and ears only for him.

How could it be otherwise, seeing that it was not often a n.o.ble lord graced a village tap-room with his presence. Conversations round the room were now carried on in whispers; tarok cards were produced and here and there a game was in progress. Those who had drunk overmuch made themselves as inconspicuous as they could, drawing themselves closely against the wall, or frankly reclining across the table with arms outstretched and heads buried between them out of sight.

An atmosphere of subdued animation and decorum reigned in the place; not a few men, oppressed by their sense of respect for my lord, had effected a quiet exit through the door, preferring the jovial atmosphere of the barn, from whence came, during certain hushed moments, the sounds of music and of laughter.

The young man--whose presence caused all this revulsion in the usually noisy atmosphere of the tap-room--took no heed whatever of anything that went on around him: he seemed unconscious alike of the deference of the peasants as of the dark, menacing scowl with which Leopold Hirsch regarded him. He certainly did not bestow a single glance on Eros Bela who, at my lord's appearance, had retreated into the very darkest corner of the room. Bela did not care to encounter the young Count's sneering remarks just now--and these would of a certainty have been levelled against the bridegroom who was sitting in a tap-room when he should have been in attendance on his bride. But indeed my lord never saw him.

To this young scion of a n.o.ble race, which had owned land and serfs for centuries past, these peasants here were of no more account than his oxen or his sheep--nor was the owner of a village shop of any more consequence in my lord's eyes.

He came here because there was a good-looking Jewess in the tap-room whose conversation amused him, and whose dark, velvety eyes, fringed with long lashes, and mouth with full, red lips, stirred his jaded senses in a more pleasant and more decided way than did the eyes and lips of the demure, well-bred young Countesses and Baronesses who formed his usual social circle.

Whether his flirtation with Klara, the Jewess, annoyed the girl's Jew lover or not, did not matter to him one jot; on the contrary the jealousy of that dirty lout Hirsch enhanced his amus.e.m.e.nt to a considerable extent.

Therefore he did not take the trouble to lower his voice now when he talked to Klara, and it was quite openly that he put his arm round her waist while he held his gla.s.s to her lips--”To sweeten your father's vinegar!” he said with a laugh.

”You know, my pretty Klara,” he said gaily, ”that I was half afraid I shouldn't see you to-day at all.”

”No?” she asked coquettishly.

”No, by gad! My father was so soft-hearted to allow Eros a day off for his wedding or something, and so, if you please, I had to go to Arad with him, as he had to see about a sale of clover. I thought we should never get back. The roads were abominable.”

”I hardly expected your lords.h.i.+p,” she said demurely.

To punish her for that little lie, he tweaked her small ear till it became a bright crimson.

”That is to punish you for telling such a lie,” he said gaily. ”You know that I meant to come and say good-bye.”

”Your lords.h.i.+p goes to-morrow?” she asked with a sigh.

”To shoot bears, my pretty Klara,” he replied. ”I don't want to go. I would rather stay another week here for you to amuse me, you know.”

”I am proud . . .” she whispered.

”So much do you amuse me that I have brought you a present, just to show you that I thought of you to-day and because I want you not to forget me during the three months that I shall be gone.”

He drew the parcel out of his pocket and, turning his back to the rest of the room, he cut the string and undid the paper that wrapped it. The contents of the parcel proved to be a morocco case, which flew open at a touch and displayed a gold curb chain bracelet--the dream of Klara Goldstein's desires.

”For me?” she said, with a gasp of delight.

”For your pretty arm, yes,” he replied. ”Shall I put it on?”

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