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Meyer, Fanny's mother," sobbed the woman in the bitterness of her heart, throwing herself at Boltay's feet, and covering first his hands and then his knees, and then his very boots with her kisses, and shedding oceans of tears. Boltay, who was not used to such tragical scenes, could only stand there as if rooted to the spot, without asking her to get up or even tell him what was the matter.
Fanny, smiling all the time, produced her writing materials and wrote a short letter, which she folded up, sealed, and gave to Boltay. Mrs. Meyer cast a significant glance at the girl out of the corner of her eye, allowed herself to be lifted up into the cart; the whip cracked, and off they went.
"Ah, good day!" cried that gentleman with friendly condescension, as he caught sight of the artisan. "Mr. Boltay, I presume? Ah, I thought so, my worthy fellow! You have a great reputation everywhere; they praise your workmanship to the skies, my good, honest fellow. Fresh from your workshop, eh? Well, that, now, is what I like to see. I hold industrious citizens in the highest esteem." Mr.
Boltay was obliged to call his attention to the fact that the marriage must be preceded by sundry legal and other formalities, which the magnate, despite the fact of his being a member of the legislature, had clean forgotten, though this only shows how completely he was carried away by the idea of his own wedding.
And with that the gentleman arose, pressed Master Boltay's hand amicably, and left him in a perfect chaos of conflicting thoughts. Impatiently, Boltay began pacing up and down the room. What was he to do? He felt within himself that Kárpáthy had spoken the truth. The girl would not be able to resist the tempting prospect, and would accept the offer.
They loved the young folks as if they were their own children; and oh, how they would have liked to have seen them happy together! And Fate willed otherwise! At last Boltay brushed the sweat off his forehead with his hand, and said, with a great effort at composure, "Get up, my girl! Overrule your heart I cannot; it would be wrong. He certainly could not accept your hand without your love.
If I were to tell of the abominations that go on in my house every day, Mr. Boltay, your hair would rise up with horror! Only yesterday I spoke to my daughters, I upbraided them; and the words were no sooner out of my mouth than, like harpies incarnate, they fell upon me, all four of them: 'What do you mean by preaching at us? What business is it of yours what we do? Don't we keep you like a lady?
Boltay had gradually pulled himself together during the course of this speech, and all the answer he gave when it was quite finished was to step to a writing-table, search diligently for something, and begin to write rapidly.
But I know, sir, that wealth is not happiness. I knew a poor girl whose parents last year gave her in marriage to a rich man, and the next day they drew a suicide out of the Danube. I want to make my ward happy, but I will not give her away for riches or treasures." Kárpáthy remained sitting, and gently grasped the artisan's hand. "Sit down again, my worthy Master Boltay.
What was beneath those pines? The family vault of the Kárpáthys, and he who came to visit it at that hour was Alexander Boltay. The young artisan had heard from Teresa on her return home that Fanny was dead.
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