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Updated: August 11, 2024
Here another shock awaited her. In the corner of the corridor she found Lorand sitting beside a table. On the table a lamp was burning; before Lorand lay a book, beside him, resting against his chair, a "tomahawk." "What are you doing here?" inquired Czipra, starting back. "I am keeping guard over you," answered Lorand.
Czipra was arranging all matters in the carriages, the trunks were bound on tightly and the wine-case with its twenty-four bottles of choice wine, packed away in a sure place. "You are a good girl after all, Czipra," said Lorand, tenderly patting the girl's back. "After all?" Was he really so devoted to that pipe that he could not take it from his mouth for one single moment?
"Oho!" threatened Czipra, her face burning red. "Just play some more of your jokes upon me. Your lives are in my hands: one day I shall put belladonna in the food, and poison us all together."
"And we two shall do as we please, shall we not?" "You," said Czipra, looking sharply at Topándy with her black eyes. "You will soon be doing what that young lady likes. I foresee it all. As soon as she puts her foot in, everybody will do as she does. When she smiles, everybody will smile at her in return.
And your marriage requires longer preparations?" "Much longer." "What obstacle can Czipra present?" "An obstacle which you know very well: Czipra is still a heathen. Now the first requisite here for marriage is the birth-certificate. You know well that Topándy has hitherto brought the poor girl up in an uncivilized manner. I cannot present her to mother in this state.
Those beautiful silken curls on the ground! And now the rest must of course be cut just as short. Lorand sat down before her in a chair, from which he could look into the glass, and motioned to her to commence. Czipra could scarcely force herself to do so. So to destroy the beauty of that fair head, over which she had so often stealthily posed in a reverie!
Topándy's letter informed them that, immediately after the despatch of the letter, Lorand would wed Czipra, and they would come home together to the house of his parents. So the day was known, they might even reckon the hour when they would arrive. Desiderius remained in town to await Lorand. He promised to bring them out, however late they came, even in the night.
"That young stripling thinks that if he succeeds he can carry off my wife too, so as to have her for his mistress one day, Czipra, your daughter, the next." "You make my anger boil within me!" "They acknowledge neither God nor law. They do as they please. When did you last see your daughter?" "Two weeks ago." "Did you not see how worn she is?
Topándy was writing a letter on Lorand's writing-table: and when asked "to whom?" he said "To the priest." Yet he was not wont to correspond with such. Czipra thought this too was all on her account. Why, she had not yet been christened. What a mysterious house it was, the door of which was now to open before her!
Ever since Melanie had left the house, Czipra's sprightly mood had returned. She too played in the lovely spring, with the playful birds of song. Lorand allowed her to draw him into her circle of playmates: "How does this hyacinth look in my hair?" "It suits you admirably, Czipra."
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