"Of course, even if I were not going to Glogova myself."

"Are you really going there?" asked Veronica, surprised.

"Yes."

She looked at him thoughtfully for a minute, and then said:

"Don't try to deceive us."

Gyuri smiled.

"On my word of honor, I intended going to Glogova. Shall we all go together?"

Veronica nodded her head, and was just going to clap her hands like the child she was, when madame began to move on the sofa, and gave a deep sigh.

"Oh dear," said Veronica, "I had quite forgotten madame. Perhaps after all I can't go with you."

"And why not? The carriage is big enough, there will be plenty of room."

"Yes, but may I?"

"Go home? Who is to prevent it?"

"Why, don't you know?"

"What?" asked Gyuri, surprised.

"Why, etiquette, of course," she said shyly.

(Gyuri smiled. Oh, what a little simpleton she was!)

"Yes, yes," she a.s.sured them, seeing they were laughing at her, "it says in the book on etiquette: 'You must not accept the arm of a stranger.'"

"But a carriage is not an arm," burst out Mravucsan. "How could it be?

If it were, I should have two carriages myself. My dear child, leave etiquette to look after itself. In Babaszek I decide what is etiquette, not the French mamselles. And _I_ say a carriage is not an arm, so there's an end of it."

"Of course you are right, but all the same, I must speak to madame about it."

"Just as you like, my dear."

Veronica again knelt down by the sofa, and a whispered conversation ensued, the result of which was, as Gyuri understood from the few words he could hear, that madame quite shared Mravucsan's view of the case, that a carriage is not an arm, and that if two people have been introduced to each other, they are not strangers, and consequently, in Madame Krisbay's opinion, they ought to accept the young man's offer.

Besides, in times of danger there is no such thing as etiquette.

Beautiful Blanche Montmorency on the occasion of a fire was saved by the Marquis Privadiere with nothing on but her nightgown, and yet the tower of Notre Dame is still standing!

Gyuri felt as impatient as a card-player when the cards are being dealt, and a large stake has been placed on one of them, until at length Veronica turned round.

"We shall be very thankful if you will take us in your carriage," she said, smiling, as she was sure Blanche Montmorency would have done under the same conditions.

Gyuri received the announcement with delight.

"I will go and see after the carriage," he said, taking up his hat. But Mravucsan stood in his way.

"Oh, no, you don't," he said. "_Pro primo_, even if Veronica can go, I am sure Madame Krisbay cannot start yet; it would be a sin to make her drive now; she must rest a bit first, after her fright and her bruises.

If my wife puts some of her wonderful plaster on it to-night, she'll be perfectly well in the morning. _Pro secundo_, you can't go because I won't allow you to. _Pro tertio_, because it is getting dark. Please look out of the window."

He was right; the sun had disappeared behind the dark blue lines of the Zolyom Hills, and the fir-trees in front of the Town Hall cast their long shadows down the road, right up to the Mravucsan garden, where a lean cat was performing its evening ablutions among the oleanders. All the same Gyuri began to plead (it was part of his business).

"It will be a quiet, warm night," he said. "Why should we not start?

After all it can make no difference to madame whether she groans in bed or in the carriage."

"But it will be dark," objected Mravucsan, "and there are some very bad bits of road between here and Glogova, and two or three precipices. In spite of my being mayor, I cannot order moonlight for you."

"We don't need it; we can light the lamps."

Veronica seemed undecided, and glanced from one to the other of the gentlemen, till at length Mravucsan put in the finishing touch.

"There will be a storm to-night, for there is the dead body of a man hanging on a tree in the wood you have to pa.s.s through."

Veronica shuddered.

"I would not go through that wood by night for anything," she exclaimed.

That settled the question. Gyuri bowed, and received a bright smile in return, and Mravucsan rushed into the next room, and told Konopka to take his place (oh, his delight at getting rid of his responsibility!), as he had visitors, and had no time to think of other things; and then he whispered in the ears of some of the Senators (those who had on the best coats) that he would be pleased to see them to supper. Then off he trotted home, to announce the arrival of visitors, and give orders for their reception. On the staircase he caught sight of Fiala, and sent him to tell Wibra's coachman, who was waiting with the dog-cart outside Mrs.

Muncz's shop, to go and put up in his courtyard.

After a few minutes, Mrs. Mravucsan appeared at the Town Hall to take the ladies home with her. She was a short, stout, amiable woman, whose broad, smiling face spoke of good temper and kindheartedness. She was dressed like all women of the middle cla.s.s in that part, in a dark red skirt and black silk ap.r.o.n, and on her head she wore a black silk frilled cap.

She entered the room noisily, as such simple village folks do.

"Well, I never!" she exclaimed. "Mravucsan says you are going to be our guests. Is it true? What an honor for us! But I knew it, I felt it, for last night I dreamed a white lily was growing out of my basin, and this is the fulfilment of the dream. Well, my dear, get all your things together, and I'll carry them across, for I'm as strong as a bear. But I forgot to tell you the most important thing, which I really ought to have said at the beginning: I am Mrs. Mravucsan. Oh, my dear young lady, I should never have thought you were so pretty! Holy Virgin! Now I understand her sending down an umbrella to keep the rain off your pretty face! So the poor lady is ill, has hurt her shoulder? Well, I've got a capital plaster we'll put on it; come along. Don't give way, my dear, it has to be borne. Why, I had a similar accident once, Mravucsan was driving too. We fell into a ditch, and two of my ribs were broken, and I've had trouble with my liver ever since. Such things will happen now and then. Does it hurt you very much?"

"The lady does not speak Slovak," said Veronica, "nor Hungarian."

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Mravucsan, clasping her hands. "So old, and can't even speak Hungarian! How is that?"

And Veronica was obliged to explain that madame had come direct from Munich to be her companion, and had never yet been in Hungary; she was the widow of a French officer, she added, for Mrs. Mravucsan insisted on having full particulars. They had received a letter from her the day before yesterday, saying she was coming, and Veronica had wanted to meet her at the station.

"So that is how it is. And she can't even speak Slovak nor Hungarian!

Poor unhappy woman! And what am I to do with her?--whom am I to put next her at table?--how am I to offer her anything? Well, it will be a nice muddle! Luckily the schoolmaster can speak German, and perhaps the young gentleman can too?"

"Don't you worry about that, Mrs. Mravucsan, I'll amuse her at supper, and look after her wants," answered Gyuri.

With great difficulty they got ready to go, Madame Krisbay moaning and groaning as they tried to dress her, after having sent Gyuri into the pa.s.sage. Mrs. Mravucsan collected all the shawls, rugs, and cloaks, and hung them over her arm.

"We will send the servant for the lady's box," she said.

Then she made madame lean on her, and they managed to get her downstairs. Madame was complaining, half in French, half in German, and the mayor's wife chatted continually, sometimes to the young couple walking in front, sometimes to madame, who, with her untidy hair, looked something like a poor sick c.o.c.katoo.