Part 28 (1/2)

”If you will swear,” he insisted.

”Yes, yes, I will swear,” she cried eagerly now, for indeed a heavy load had been lifted off her heart, and her natural buoyancy of temperament was already rea.s.serting its sway over her terrors and agony of mind.

”What do you want me to say?”

”Swear by Almighty G.o.d,” he said earnestly, ”to leave Eros Bela alone, never to flirt with him or do anything to cause Elsa the slightest unhappiness.”

”I swear it by Almighty G.o.d,” she said solemnly, ”and you need not be afraid,” she added slowly; ”I will not break my oath.”

”No! I am not afraid that you will, for if you do . . . Well! we won't talk about that,” he continued more lightly. ”I suppose there isn't much time to be lost.”

”No, no, there isn't,” she urged, ”and don't make straight for the main road; go up the village first and then back through the fields; Leopold might suspect something--one never knows.”

”All right, Klara, I'll do my best. We can but pray that I shall find my lord at home, in which case I can be back in twenty minutes. I'll pick up a friend or even two when I return, as then we can all walk into the tap-room together. It won't be so conspicuous as if I came in alone.

What is the time now?” he asked.

She went to the part.i.tion door, opened it and peeped into her father's room.

”Just ten minutes to nine,” she said; ”father will have gone by the time you come back.”

”That'll be as well, won't it?” he concluded, as he finally turned to go. ”If you are not in the tap-room when I come back, what shall I do with the key?”

She pointed to a small bra.s.s tray which stood on the table in among the litter of bottles, gla.s.ses, mugs and tobacco-jars.

”Just on there,” she said, ”then if I come into the room later, I can see it there at a glance; and oh! what a relief it will be!”

The colour had come back to her cheeks. Indeed, she felt marvellously cheerful now and rea.s.sured. She knew that Andor would fulfil his share of the bargain, and the heavy cloud of trouble and of terror would be permanently lifted from her within the next half-hour.

In her usual, light-hearted, frivolous way she blew a kiss to Andor. But the young man, without looking again on her, had already opened the door, and the next moment he had gone out into the dark night on his errand of friends.h.i.+p.

CHAPTER XXII

”I go where I shall be more welcome.”

In the meanwhile, in the barn time had been flying along on the wings of enjoyment. Ever since six o'clock, when vespers were well over and the gipsies had struck up the first csardas, merry feet had been tripping it almost incessantly.

It is amazing what a capacity the young Hungarian peasant--man or woman--has for footing the national dance. With intervals of singing and of gossiping these young folk in the barn had been going on for over three hours.

And they were not even beginning to get tired. To the Hungarian peasants, be it remembered, the csardas is not merely a dance, though they enjoy the movement, of course, the exhilaration and the excitement of the music, just as all healthy young animals would enjoy gambolling on a meadow; there is a deeper meaning to these children of the plains in the sweet, sad strains of their songs and in the mazes and intricacies of their dance.

They put their whole life, their entire sentiment for country and sweetheart, in the music and in the dance, and the music and the dance give outward expression to their feelings, speak in the language of poetry which they feel well enough, but which their untutored tongue cannot frame.

A Hungarian peasant in sorrow or distress will probably, like his Western prototype, seek to drown his grief in drink; far be it from his chronicler's mind to suggest that his sentiments are more elevated than those of the peasantry of other nations, or his morality more sound. He will get drunk, too, like men of other nations, but he will do it to the accompaniment of music. The gipsy band must be there, when he is in trouble or in joy--one or two fiddles, perhaps a clarionet, always a czimbalom--just these few instruments to play his favourite songs. They don't ease his sorrow, but they help to soothe it by bringing tears to his eyes and softening the bitterness of his grief.

And in joy he will invariably dance; when he is in love he will dance, for the csardas helps him to explain to the girl whom he loves exactly what he feels for her. And she understands. One csardas will reveal to a Hungarian village maid the state of her lover's heart far more clearly than do all the whisperings behind hedges in more civilized lands.

It was in the csardas five years ago that Elsa had learned from Andor how much he loved her; it was during the mazes of the dance that she was able to overcome her shyness and tell him mutely that she loved him in return.