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Updated: June 21, 2025
Besides that one person, no one knew anything. And he would be silent for ever, when he knew that upon his further silence depended his brother's life. Love had stolen the steely strength of Lorand's mind away. He had become quite reconciled to the idea that to keep an engagement, which bound anyone to violate the laws of God, of man, and of nature, was mere folly.
To appeal the more to Lorand's feelings, and to show him how her hands trembled she tore off her beautiful ball gloves, and grasped his hands in her own and then sobbed before him. As she touched him Lorand began to feel, instead of his previous tomblike chillness, a kind of agitating heat as if the cold bony hand of death had given over his hand to some other unknown demon.
"Well in a week's time I shall be able to give my blessing on your choice." "Certainly." Topándy did not wish to dive further into Lorand's secret. He suspected the young fellow was choosing between two girls, and did not imagine that he had already chosen a third: the one with the down-turned torch.
Why if she had returned broken-hearted to me, and said, 'I have erred, I should have still received her with open arms: she should not thus have prostituted the feeling which I held for her. "Oh, my friend, there is nothing more repulsive in this round world, than a woman who can make herself thus loathed." Lorand's silence gave assent to this sentence. "And now follows the madness I committed.
The gypsy girl took off Lorand's hat, and crowned it with a wreath of leaves, then put it back again, changing its position again and again until she found out how it suited him best. Then she pressed his hand under her arm, laid her burning face upon his shoulder, and thus strolled about with him. Poor girl! She had forgotten, forgiven everything already!
Czipra gathered the cards up sadly. But she did not accept Lorand's proffered hand, she rose alone. "Well, what shall I do, when I don't understand anything else?" "Come, play my favorite air for me on the czimbalom. It is such a long time since I heard it."
... Topándy glanced by chance at Lorand's face, and thought that the change of color he saw on his countenance was the reflection of the flickering flame in the fire-place. "The letter continued: "'At our academy at that time there was a great rage for that stupid kind of duel, where two men draw lots and the one whose name comes out, must blow his brains out after a fixed time. Asses!
While the others were engaged with their own happiness, the old lady took Lorand's hand and, without a word of "whither," they went down together to the garden, to the stream flowing beside the garden: to the melancholy house built on the bank of the stream. Ten years had passed and the creeper had again crawled over the crypt door: the green leaves covered the motto.
After the first day Lorand felt himself quite at home in Topándy's home. Topándy treated him as a duke would treat his only son, whom he was training to be his heir; Lorand's conduct toward Topándy was that of a poor man's son, learning to make himself useful in his father's home.
Thereupon she hid her face in her hands and wept in Lorand's stead. Lorand went towards her and taking her hand, said sadly: "You see, such are not the gypsy girls whose faces are brown, who are born under tents, and who cut cards, and make that their religion." Then with Czipra's hand in his he walked long up and down his room without a word. Neither knew what to say to the other.
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