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Updated: June 11, 2025
You cannot know of what I am thinking." "Czipra...." "That is not quite it. Though it did occur to me to ask how could I leave a young man and a young girl here all alone. Yet in that matter I have my own logic: the young man either has a heart or none at all.
She had a white dressing-gown on, her hair half let down, in her hand that little black book, in which Czipra had so often admired those "Glory" pictures without daring to ask what they were. Melanie reached the table, and laying the little prayer-book on the shelf of her mirror, kneeled down, and, clasping her two hands together, rested against the corner of the table and prayed.
Lorand during the following days was as cheerful as a bridegroom during the week preceding his marriage so cheerful! as his father had been the evening before his death. The last day but one came: May again, but not so chilly as ten years before. The air in the park was flower-perfumed, full of lark trills, and nightingale ditties. Czipra was chasing butterflies on the lawn.
He who stole a look at that sight lost every sinful emotion from his heart. Czipra beat her breast in dumb agony. "She can fly, while I can only crawl on the ground."
Evening had not yet drawn in, when the carriage, which had been sent for Melanie to Tiszafüred station, arrived. The traveler did not wait till some one came to receive her; she stepped out of the carriage unaided and found the verandah alone. Topándy met her in the doorway. They embraced, and he led her into the lobby. Czipra was waiting for her there.
"To Sárvölgyi's?" said Czipra, clasping her hands, and coming closer to Lorand. "You will go to Sárvölgyi's?" "Not just for Sárvölgyi's sake," said Lorand very seriously, "who is in other respects a very righteous pious fellow; but for the sake of his guests, who are old friends of Desi's. Why, I have not yet told you, Desi.
"Don't be afraid, Czipra; nobody's beautiful blue eyes shall detain us there." "I was not afraid for your sakes of beautiful eyes," replied Czipra, "but of Mistress Boris's pies: such pies cannot be got here." Thereat all three laughed finally Desiderius too, though he did not know what kind of mythological monster such a sadly bewitched cake might be, which came from Mistress Boris's hand.
"No, my child, it is sunrise." "I thought it was evening already." Topándy opened one shutter that Czipra might see the morning light of the sun. Then he returned to the sick girl, whose face burned with fever. "Lorand will be here immediately," he assured her gently. "I shall soon be far away," sighed the girl with burning lips. It seemed so long till Lorand returned!
Lorand, exhausted and half dazed, listened to that beast-like howl gradually diminishing in the distance. That day about noon the old gypsy woman who told Czipra her fortune had shuffled into Sárvölgyi's courtyard, and finding the master out on the terrace, thanked him that he did not set his dogs upon her did not tear her to pieces.
She pressed three fingers to her bosom, and silently intimated that she was not "that" girl. The yellow-robed woman, the queen of jealousy in the cards, was some one else. She placed her pointing fingers to the green-robed that queen of melancholy. And Lorand remarked that Czipra had long been wearing a green robe, like the green-robed lady in the fortune-telling cards.
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