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Updated: June 3, 2025
He was proud of his wealth, proud of his education, his book-learning and knowledge of the world, and reckoned that these gave him the right to be a law unto himself. His naturally domineering and masterful temperament completed his claim to be considered the head man of Marosfalva.
So now you know, stranger, why we at Marosfalva call the fourteenth day of September the very blackest in the whole calendar, and why at eight o'clock in the morning nobody is at work in the fields. For the fourteenth day being such a black one, we must all make the most of the few hours that come before it.
"I tell you there is something," he rejoined obstinately, "and what's more I can make a pretty shrewd guess what it is, eh?" "I don't know what you mean," she said simply. "I mean that the noted beauty of Marosfalva does me the honour of being jealous. Isn't that it, now? Oh! I know well enough, you needn't be ashamed of it, jealousy does your love for me credit, and flatters me, I assure you."
When Andor and Elsa reached the station the crowd in and around it was dense, noisy and full of animation and colour. A large batch of recruits who had come by the same train from more distant villages had alighted at Marosfalva and joined in the bustle and the singing.
"No," she said, "I am not very fond of gossip, and there was a deal too much of it in Marosfalva this past week to please me." "You are right there, Elsa," he rejoined, "but there were others in the village, you know, those who did not gossip but whose heart would have been gladdened by a sight of you." "Yes, Andor," she murmured.
Noble lords had been known to marry peasant girls at least in books, so Irma néni had been told, and, of course, one never knows! God's ways were wonderful sometimes. But when two years had gone by, when a rich shopkeeper from Arad had come and courted and been refused, and when the noble lord had suddenly ceased his Sunday afternoon visits to Marosfalva, Irma became more anxious.
If your driver has come along with you down the street, he will point out to you the house of Barna Jenö mayor of the Commune of Marosfalva a personage of vast consideration in the village a consideration which he shares with Hóhér Aladár, who is the village justice of the peace, and with Erös Béla, who is my lord the Count's bailiff.
Andor drew a long breath. He seemed suddenly to wake from a long, long dream. It was just over five years ago that he had stood one morning just like this in this little garden; the late roses had not then ceased to bloom. It was the day before he had to leave Marosfalva in order to become a soldier, and he had come after Mass to say a private good-bye to the kind priest.
The fourteenth of September, the ugliest, blackest, most God-forsaken day in the whole year! You did not know? You cannot guess? Then what kind of a stranger are you if you do not know that on this hideous fourteenth of September all the finest lads of Marosfalva and the villages around are taken away by the abominable government?
And now October was drawing to its close to-day was the fourth Sunday in the month and one of the numerous feasts of our Blessed Lady, one on which solemn benediction is appointed to be sung in the early afternoon, and benediction is followed by a procession to the shrine of the Virgin which stands on the roadside on the way to Saborsó some two kilomètres distant from Marosfalva.
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