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Updated: June 15, 2025
The murderer had done his work quickly and silently; his victim had uttered no cry that would rouse the old gossip from her sleep. When Klara at last rounded the second corner of the house and came in full view of the unfenced yard in the rear, she saw that it was flooded with moonlight.
Still! three thousand crowns are enough to pay down as a guarantee for a really good farm, and if Klara Goldstein spoke the truth, and Pali bácsi is really so well disposed toward me, why, I need not be altogether ashamed to present myself before your parents. Need I, my dove?" "Before my parents?" she murmured.
Even before she had had time to formulate a question she knew that some terrible calamity had occurred. In jerky phrases, broken by moans and interjections, the mother had blurted out the news: Erös Béla was dead he had been found just now murdered outside Klara Goldstein's door there would be no wedding Elsa was a widow before she had been a bride.
"Mad?" broke in Klara, as with a jerky movement of her shoulders she disengaged herself from Andor's rough grasp. "I dare say I am mad.
Then, as Béla somewhat clumsily, and with a pretence at cordiality which he was far from feeling, went up to Andor and held out his hand to him, Klara continued glibly: "Poor old Andor! he is a trifle glum now. I never told him that his sweetheart was getting married to-morrow.
"I knew nothing about it," rejoined Klara, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "Father never tells me when he is going to be away from home." "No!" retorted Leopold, with a sneer, "he knows better than to give all your gallants such a brilliant opportunity." "Don't be a fool, Leo!" she reiterated with a laugh.
Elsa knew that he was of violent temperament, dictatorial and rough; she knew that he was fond of drink, and of the society of Klara Goldstein, the Jewess, but she really did not care.
Béla was going to marry that silly, ignorant peasant girl, and she, Klara, would be left to marry Leopold after all. Her anger and humiliation had been very great, and she had battled very persistently and very ably to regain the prize which she had lost.
Granny sat, not far off, working with double speed at her neglected knitting. “Once upon a time,” Billy said, “there lived a little girl named Klara. And Klara was the naughtiest little girl in the world. She was a pretty child and a clever child and everybody would have loved her if she had only given them a chance. But how can you love a child who is doing naughty things all the time?
He did little more than acknowledge the respectful salutations which greeted him from every corner of the little room as he entered, but he nodded to Erös Béla and smiled all over his good-looking face at Klara, who, in her turn, welcomed him with a profusion of smiles which brought a volley of muttered curses to Leopold Hirsch's lips.
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