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Updated: June 14, 2025
"At any rate remain here with me then," continued Szilard. "Sleep in my room and take till to-morrow to think it over. I won't lock the door but you must give me your word of honour that you will not go out of that door without my knowledge." "I give you my word upon it." Then Szilard made the youth lie down and only went to rest himself when he was sure that Coloman was asleep.
"Oh, I cry your honour's pardon," replied the innkeeper with a proud smile, "it is only our actors. They are rehearsing a new piece which they are going to act this evening. I hope your honour will condescend to go and see it it will be real fine." "What, actors in this village?" cried Szilard in amazement. "Why, where do they come from?"
Fatia Negra plunged into the armoury and plucked down a pistol from the wall. Szilard paused on the threshold. "Halt!" cried Fatia Negra with a voice like a scream "this is my house and your tomb." Szilard did not condescend to reply but drew a step nearer.
"To-morrow, we'll plan it all out, I'll be waiting for you at one o'clock," whispered the countess to Szilard, "now I must go, the cotillion is beginning." "Don't you dance then?" enquired the count of Szilard. "Nonsense! they'll say you are mourning somebody. Thank God, old Lapussa was not your father-in-law, but Hátszegi's. It is for him to pull a long face, but you go and dance!"
Moreover, in his whole bearing, in all his movements, there was something precocious, a resolute, bold expression which made one forget that he was a mere child a sort of cynicism not pleasant to behold. Szilard soon had a good supper ready for him, which the youth fell to work upon without ceremony.
Szilard had been very polite to him, the parson added, and had joyfully listened to all he had to tell him about Hidvár and its mistress; but when the priest had pressed him to pay a visit to that part of the country to see and admire its rare natural beauties, the young man had replied: "Anywhere in the world but there." What possible objection could he have against the district?
He waited till he was only two paces off and then he seized a stone weighing half a hundred weight and hurled it at him the tree trunk behind which Szilard had taken refuge bent beneath the blow. Then Fatia Negra fled down towards the valley.
The black mantle had fallen from the shoulders of Fatia Negra into the water and there he now stood before Szilard with his wet clothes clinging closely to his body like a statue of Antinous, a shape of athletic beauty.
The piece acted was, naturally, not "Hernáni or Castilian Honour," but Schiller's "Robbers." Szilard recognized it at the very first three words. No less familiar appeared the violent gestures of the young actor which frequently endangered the side scenes.
At last he gave the bellrope a very violent pull and told the clerk who answered the bell to send him his assistant, Mr. Szilard, at once. Szilard appeared on the very heels of the messenger. His was one of those faces which women never forget.
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