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His own face was visible! Why didn't she speak? Why was she here? Alone? That was not right surely. Suddenly Rozsi dropped her hands; her flushed face was quivering it seemed as though a word, a sign, even, might bring a burst of tears. He walked over to the window. 'I must give her time! he thought; then seized by unreasoning terror at this silence, spun round, and caught her by the arms.
"You do not understand," the Hungarian replied politely. No Austrian dog soils my floors!" His nostrils, as it seemed to Swithin, had distended in an unpleasant fashion; and a wholly unnecessary raucousness invaded his voice. "I am an exile all of my blood are exiles. Those Godless dogs!" Swithin hurriedly assented. As he spoke, a face peeped in at the door. "Rozsi!" said the Hungarian.
No longer touching her, he felt his grievance revive. "But you are so strong," she murmured. "This is no place for you," growled Swithin, "I'm going to see you home." "Oh!" cried Rozsi; "but papa and Margit!" "That's their look-out!" and he hurried her away. She slid her hand under his arm; the soft curves of her form brushed him gently, each touch only augmented his ill-humour.
He ordered wine, too, watching Rozsi out of the corner of his eye as he poured it out. The protecting tenderness of yesterday was all lost in this medley. It was every man for himself, after all! The colour had deepened again in her cheeks, she laughed, pouting her lips. Suddenly she put her glass aside. "Thank you, very much," she said, "it is enough!"
First you hear the music how your feet itch! It is wonderful! You begin slow, quick quicker; you fly you know nothing your feet are in the air. It is wonderful!" A slow flush had mounted into Swithin's face. "Ah!" continued Rozsi, her eyes fixed on him, "when I am dancing out there I see the plains your feet go one two three quick, quick, quick, quicker you fly."
Swithin sat between the girls; but did not talk, for he was really hungry. Boleskey too was silent, plunged in gloom; Rozsi was dumb; Margit alone chattered. "You will come to our Father-town? We shall have things to show you. Rozsi, what things we will show him!" Rozsi, with a little appealing movement of her hands, repeated, "What things we will show you!"
He started up, and at that moment Rozsi looked round her face was the incarnation of enticement, the chin tilted, the lower lip thrust a little forward, her round neck curving back over her shoulder. Swithin muttered, "Make your own arrangements leave me out!" and hurried from the room, leaving James beside himself with interest and alarm.
It flashed across him that any hostile person coming in then would be torn to pieces. A woman sobbed. The whole thing was beyond words unpleasant. He rose, and edged his way furtively towards the doorway. There was a cry of "Police!" The whole crowd came pressing after him. Swithin would soon have been out, but a little behind he caught sight of Rozsi swept off her feet.
Late in the afternoon he went back to his lodgings. In a corner of the sitting-room stood Rozsi. The thrill of triumph, the sense of appeasement, the emotion, that seized on him, crept through to his lips in a faint smile. Rozsi made no sound, her face was hidden by her hands. And this silence of hers weighed on Swithin. She was forcing him to break it. What was behind her hands?
He looked up at the window, more than half expecting to see Rozsi there; but she was not, and he noticed with faint surprise that the window was not open; the plants, too, outside, looked singularly arid. He knocked. No one came. He beat a fierce tattoo. At last the door was opened by a man with a reddish beard, and one of those sardonic faces only to be seen on shoemakers of Teutonic origin.
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