"I don't doubt it for a minute, but for heaven's sake answer my question."

"I'm coming to it in a minute, sir. Just at that time they were having the silver handle made to the umbrella, and our young lady, pretty dear, gave me the old handle. Why, thought I, that will be just the thing for Matyko; if three sparks from that holy wood are of no use, then Matyko will be entered in the ranks of G.o.d's soldiers."

At the thought of little Matyko as one of G.o.d's soldiers her tears began to flow. It was lucky if none of them fell into the frying-pan.

"Mrs. Adamecz!" exclaimed Gyuri, alarmed, his voice trembling. "You surely did not burn the handle?"

The old woman looked at him surprised.

"How was I to get the three sparks from it if I did not burn it?"

Gyuri fell back against the wall, the kitchen and everything in it swam before his eyes, the plates and basins seemed to be dancing a waltz together; a tongue of fire arose from the fireplace, bringing with it the third demon, who exclaimed: "There is nothing here!"

But all at once he felt a hand laid on his arm. It was Sztolarik.

"It was, and is no more," he said. "But never mind, Fate intended it to be so. For the future you will not, at all events, run after a shadow, you will be yourself again, and that is worth a good deal, after all."

CHAPTER III.

LITTLE VERONICA IS TAKEN AWAY.

But it was of no use Sztolarik preaching about the uselessness of worldly goods, for those worldly goods are very pleasant to have.

When a favorite child dies, the members of the family always p.r.o.nounce very wise words, which are supposed to comfort one another, such as: "Who knows how the child would have turned out? It might have come to the gallows in time; perhaps it was better it had died now," etc. But for all that, wisdom has never yet dried our tears.

Sztolarik said all he could think of to console Gyuri, but the young lawyer was quite cast down at the thought that his dreams would never now be realized; his whole life was before him, dark and threatening.

But the world was the same as of old, and everything went just the same as though Widow Adamecz had never burned the handle of the umbrella.

The hands of the parish clock pointed to the Roman figure II., and the chimes rang out on the air; the servants laid the table for dinner, Mrs. Adamecz brought in the soup, and his reverence led his guests into the dining-room, and placed them right and left of Madame Krisbay, when all at once they noticed that Veronica was missing.

"I was just going to ask," said Madame Krisbay, "if she had been with the gentlemen?"

"I thought she was with you," said the priest.

"I have not seen her for two hours."

"Nor I."

"Nor we."

"Perhaps she is in the kitchen?"

Madame Krisbay looked vexed, got up from her seat, and went into the kitchen to call her pupil, but returned at once with the remark that she had not been seen there either.

"Where can she be?" exclaimed the priest, and ran out to look for her, sending the servants to some of her favorite seats in the garden, thinking she might have gone there to read, and have forgotten the time.

Mrs. Adamecz grumbled in the kitchen, for the dinner was spoiling.

"Well, serve the dinner," said Father Janos, for, of course, he could not keep his guests waiting, especially as Sztolarik wanted to return home as soon as possible.

So the dishes were brought in one after the other, but still there was no sign of Veronica; and Hanka had returned with the news that no one had seen her.

Gyuri sat in his place, pale and quiet.

"Perhaps she is in the apiary," suggested her brother, "or perhaps"

(here he hesitated a minute, not knowing how to continue), "perhaps something unpleasant has taken place between you?"

Gyuri looked up surprised.

"Nothing has taken place between us," he said coldly.

"Then, Hanka, run across to the new house and look in the apiary. Please excuse her, gentlemen, she is such a child still, and follows her own whims. She is probably chasing a b.u.t.terfly. Take some more wine, Mr.

Sztolarik."

He was trying to rea.s.sure himself, not his guests, as he sat there listening to every sound, paying scant attention to the conversation, and giving many wrong answers.

Sztolarik asked if the bad weather this year had made much difference to the harvest.

"One or two," answered the priest.

"Have you any other brothers or sisters?"

"I don't know."

His answers showed the perturbed state of his mind, and it was with difficulty he kept his seat at table. At length the old lawyer said:

"Perhaps it would be better if your reverence were to go and look for Miss Veronica yourself; and I should be glad if you would send word to my coachman that I wish to start as soon as possible, for it is a long drive to Besztercebanya."

The priest seized the opportunity, and begging Madame Krisbay to excuse him, hurried away, for he found Veronica's absence very strange, and was beginning to get anxious. So, Madame Krisbay having retired, the two gentlemen were left alone, and a painful silence ensued. Gyuri was gazing with melancholy eyes at the canary, which was also silent now.

"You had better order your carriage, too," said Sztolarik, breaking the silence at last. "We could leave at the same time."

Gyuri murmured some unintelligible answer, and shook his head.

"But you will have to leave soon, for our part here is played out."

"I tell you it is impossible."

"Why?"

"Don't you see that Veronica is lost?"

"What does that matter to you? The umbrella handle is lost too."

Gyuri made an impatient gesture.