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Updated: June 11, 2025
It was a quiet night of reveries: the stars, as is their wont when seen through falling dew, were changing their colors, flashing green and red. The nightingale was now cooing in the bushes, as it does when it has found its mate. Czipra looked around her. It was a deep slumbering night: no one could see her now.
Once after dinner Czipra grasped his hand and said playfully: "You are thinking very deeply about something. You are pale. Come, I will tell you your fortune." "My fortune?" "Of course: I shall read the cards for you: you know "'A gypsy woman was my mother, Taught me to read the cards of fortune, In that surpassing many wishes." "Very well, my dear Czipra: then tell me my fortune."
Czipra might also be content with Melanie's conduct towards Lorand. Her eyes never rested on the young man's face, although they did not avoid his gaze. She treated him indifferently, and the whole day only exchanged words with him when she thanked him for filling her glass with water.
Thereupon she took out two crochet needles and a reel of cotton from her work-case, and began to explain the work to Czipra: then she gave it to her to try. Her first attempt was very successful. Czipra had learned something from the new-comer, and remarked that she would learn much more from her.
Czipra might know more about it, if she chose to speak. That tent-dwelling army, out of whose midst I took her to myself, is lurking around us, and is more malicious than report says. They conceal their deeds splendidly, they are very cunning and careful.
At supper only three were sitting at table. Lorand was more abstracted than usual, and scarcely spoke a word to them: if Czipra addressed him, there was such embarrassment in his reply, that it was impossible not to remark it. But Czipra was in a particularly jesting mood to-day. "My friend Bálint, you are sleepy. Yet you had better take care of us at night, lest someone steal us."
"Don't whine!" hissed Kandur, seizing the girl's arm with one hand, with the other attempting to close her mouth. But terror had made Czipra frantic: tearing down the robber's hand from her mouth, she pushed him back from the door, and with shrill cries awoke the echoes of the night. "Lorand, help! Robbers!"
We must celebrate the day you meet your brother: we must drink to it!" "Will you not take me with you?" inquired Czipra half in jest. "No!" was the simultaneous reply from both sides. "Why not?" "Because it is not fit for you there. There is no room for you there!" Both replied the same.
She could not prevent herself from laughing to his face; then she turned away from him, leaned out of the window, and burst into another fit of laughter. Really it would have been difficult to distinguish whether she was laughing or crying. "Thank you, Czipra, my dear," said Lorand, putting his arm round the girl's waist.
Though he never said a word, nor did Czipra, about the blow he had received, and though when next they met they were the same towards one another as they had ever been, Topándy ventured to make a jest at table about this humorous scene, saying to Lorand: "Bálint, ask Czipra to repeat that prayer which she has learned from me: but first seize her two hands."
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