"My wife is the prettier," replied Rudolf, with mild self-satisfaction.

"I honour you for that word, Rudolf. You are indeed a tender husband!

But your wife really is an angel. Madame Karpathy pales before her. Hers is not the beauty which can interest men of genius, she is too sensitive."

"Nay, nay; I will not have you depreciate her in order to cry up my wife. On the contrary, I admit that Madame Karpathy is a very beautiful woman; indeed to some person's tastes, she might appear the ideal of loveliness."

"Yes, true; poor Abellino, for instance, at one time, would scarce allow that a more beautiful woman had been born into the world since Helen of Troy or Ninon d'Enclos. He was quite mad about her; ruined himself, in fact, because of her. He spent sixty thousand florins upon her."

"What do you mean by that?" inquired Rudolf, much offended.

Kecskerey laughed good-humouredly. "Ma foi! that is a vain question from you, Rudolf. As if you did not know that it is usual to spend something on young women."

"But I know exactly what happened to Abellino when he forced six hundred florins into the girl's hand, and the manner in which she flung them back in his face was equivalent, among friends, to at least three boxes on the ears. I remember it well, because it led to a duel, and I was one of the seconds of Abellino's opponent."

"Ah ca, that's true! But you know how often it happens that when one has flung back a paltry five or six hundred florins between the eyes of the giver, one does not do the same with sixty thousand florins, when offered afterwards. I do not say this from any wish to injure Madame Karpathy, for, of course, nothing happened between them. But it is true, nevertheless, that she accepted the offer, and promised her dear mother, worthy Mrs. Meyer, that she would listen to Abellino's words, or to his sixty thousand florins, which is the same thing; and when luck unexpectedly suggested to old Jock that he should sue for her hand, in order to spite his nephew, the girl had sense enough to choose the better of two good offers, and accepted him. But not for all the world would I say anything ill of her. She is a lady of position and altogether blameless; but, for that very reason, I do not see why one or other of us might not have tried his luck with her."

At that moment several other acquaintances came up to Rudolf, and claimed him; so he parted from Kecskerey. But henceforward an unusual air of disquietude was visible on his face, and as often as he encountered his wife, who never left Madame Karpathy for an instant, an unpleasant feeling took possession of him, and he thought to himself, "That is a woman who might have been won with sixty thousand florins."

And then he reflected that, in the course of the evening, Kecskerey would tell the same pretty story to a dozen or more other men; so that within an hour's time the whole company would know all about it, and at the same time see his wife walking about with this woman, and talking and whispering to her familiarly. What cared he for Madame Karpathy? She might be as beautiful again as she really was, for aught that he cared; but he reflected that she might cast a shadow on his own wife, his adored, his idolized wife, and this reflection disturbed him. Why had he ever allowed her to make this woman's acquaintance? Flora was so kind-hearted that she would have raised this woman up to her own level; but she never reflected that this woman had a shady past, and that her own good name might be soiled by contact with her.

Of course he knew that it was Kecskerey's habit to run down every one unmercifully, but he also knew that he vouched for everything he said.

Whatever he said of anybody was never actually false. He did not circulate downright libels, but he had the knack of probing down into the deepest hidden secret shame of every one he knew.

As soon as the ball was over, Rudolf hastened to seek out his wife. His servants told him that she had already retired to her bedroom. He knocked at the door, and, hearing her voice, entered.

Flora was still in full ball-dress; her maid was doing up her hair.

"May I have a word with you?" inquired Rudolf, peeping through the door.

Flora, with a smile, dismissed the maid; and Rudolf embraced his wife, and impressed a burning, a lover's kiss on her radiant face.

"Ah, stop!" cried Flora, hastily, disengaging herself from the encircling arms. "Are you not aware that I am very angry with you?"

Well, at any rate, it was very amiable of the dear wife to allow herself to be kissed first, and then only to recollect that she was angry.

"May I know how I have offended?"

"You have been very discourteous to me to-day. The whole evening you have not deigned to speak to me. Ten times, at least, I have purposely pa.s.sed by where Rudolf was standing, and Rudolf took not the slightest notice of me."

While she was saying these words Rudolf succeeded in securing one of the threatening little hands, and, placing it first to his lips and then to his breast, compelled his beloved wife to sit down beside him again on the sofa.

"Let me make good my fault," said he. "For three hours I have not been near you, therefore for three days I will not quit your side, although I know that in that case it will be the innocent party who bears the punishment."

"Ah, Rudolf, that was but a poor jest, I don't like such witticisms. I want you to give an account of yourself. Why are you in such a bad humour?"

"There was something unpleasant in the installation speeches."

"Ah, my friend, that won't do; you don't deceive me. You would tell me a falsehood, eh? You would lie in despite of that honest open face of yours, in spite of those transparent eyes? And you would lie to me, who exchanged souls with you? It cannot be so; tell me the truth!"

Rudolf's face grew serious, he fell a-thinking, but presently he replied--

"Don't let us talk about it now."

"Why not?"

"It would take too long."

"Ah, Rudolf is sleepy! Poor Rudolf is afraid the conversation would go on for ever. Well, good night, dear Rudolf. If you want to go and sleep, send in my maid again!"

At these words Rudolf arose, bowed, and prepared to go in real earnest.

Then, naturally, it was the wife's turn to give way.

"Well, remain then, I was only joking," said she. "Even now, you see, you are inclined to be ill-tempered--one may not even jest with you.

Come here now, and we will play at guessing riddles. Let us lay a wager that I find out what is the matter with you?"

"Let us see," replied Rudolf, making himself comfortable on the sofa, while Flora leaned her head on his breast, and began counting off her guesses on her fingers.

"You have been listening to gossip?"

"Something of the sort."

"About whom?"

"Oh, if I were to tell, the riddle would be at an end. You must guess."

"About me?"

"Anybody who would circulate gossip about you would have to be endowed with a very lively imagination."

"About whom then?"

"Don't worry me. I will tell you. I came here, indeed, resolved to tell you; but then I thought it might disturb you, and I take you to witness that I only come out with it after the most rigorous inquisition on your part. It does not please me, nay--more than that, it disquiets me to see you so very friendly with Madame Karpathy."

"Ah!" So astounded was Flora, that that was all she could say. It was the last thing in the world she had expected to hear. "This really is surprising!" she exclaimed at last. "Another husband would only have been afraid of his wife's intercourse with men: you present the very first example of a husband who is afraid of his wife's women-friends likewise."

"It is because I love you so. My love of you is so devoted, so idolatrous, that I would have every one who sees and knows you approach you with a reverence, a homage equal to mine own. Not even in thought must any one dare to sin against you."

"And do I give cause to the contrary?"

"You do not, but your surroundings do; and this Karpathy woman has a very equivocal reputation."

"Rudolf, my good Rudolf, why are you so incensed against this poor woman? If you only knew her, you would say there was not a more honourable woman in the whole world."

"I know all about her; and you, from sheer compa.s.sion, have made her a present of your heart. Your sympathy does you honour, but the world has an opinion of this woman very different from yours: in the world's opinion she is frivolous enough."

"The world is unjust."

"Not altogether, perhaps. This woman has a past, and there is much in that past which justifies the world's judgment."