Finally he crossed his arms, and immediately afterwards disengaged them again.

"In a word, a ravishing beauty," said I. "I congratulate you!"

"I think you may."

"Your tender sentiment is naturally reciprocated?"

"Oho!" and he caught hold of the flat of his sword.

"I did not mean to insinuate the contrary," I said.

"Naturally."

Then he was silent, and began to fumble about his stiff cravat. I saw that he wanted me to ask him some more questions.

"A maiden lady?"

"Oh, no!"

"Then a widow lady?"

"Ah, no!"

"Then it can't be a lady at all?"

"No, no! What are you thinking of?"

"Then what is she?"

"A lady who has a husband, but yet is not a married lady."

"Aha! A _divorcee_?"

"Yes."

"Then the relations between you are quite legitimate."

At this, my lieutenant of dragoons rose from his chair and stood before me in quite a magisterial position. I also stood up.

"The lady desires you to be her ..."--here the word he wanted would not occur to him. He raised the three first fingers of his right hand above his head, like one who is taking an oath. I guessed his meaning.

"A witness to her marriage?"

"No, not that. She used another word."

"Oh, she meant I was to give her away?"

"Yes, that is it. How I do forget!"

"Then is the chosen of your heart an acquaintance of mine?"

"Naturally. If I were only to mention her first name you would remember at once. Bessy!"

"Ah, Bessy!"

"How red you've got! You were in love with her once yourself. I know!

She told me. Well, will you give her away?"

"With pleasure."

"Really?"

"With all my heart."

Then he caught hold of my hand with both his hands; squeezed my hand violently, and his eyes grew quite tiny with sheer rapture. I believed he would have liked to kiss me; but he had a big nose, and I had a big nose, too, so we could not very well have managed it.

"Then will you allow me to bring in my bride?"

"Whence?"

"She is waiting outside."

"Not on the staircase?"

"Yes, indeed. On the staircase. She won't come in till she's quite sure you'll give her away. She's a bit shy."

I immediately hastened to open the door for my hesitating visitor.

It really was Bessy.

It was winter time just then, and she had all sorts of furry garments upon her, and a furred cap on her head; she looked just like a fair Muscovite.

There really seemed to be some sort of coquettish bashfulness in her face.

I couldn't imagine why. I had seen her face before under many similar circ.u.mstances, and after Muki Bagotay, Peter Gyuricza, and Tihamer Rengetegi, Wenceslaus Kvatopil was decidedly an improvement.

The bridegroom remained in the room while I admitted the lady. Then he first craved permission to kiss her hand, and then begged her pardon for kissing it. After that there was absolutely no getting him to take a seat, but he persisted in standing on one spot, leaning over the back of the arm-chair in which his lady sat.

"Have you grasped what my hero has told you?" inquired Bessy, when she had got over her first embarra.s.sment. "Just fancy! he has given me his word as a gentleman that henceforth he'll never address a word to any Hungarian except in the Hungarian language. And he tortures his Hungarian orderly to death with it to begin with."

"A most laudable resolve," I was obliged to answer.

"But now, first of all, let me explain to you why I ask you to put yourself to the inconvenience of giving me away."

I a.s.sured her that to give her away was not an inconvenience, but a pleasure.

"After our last meeting you never antic.i.p.ated, perhaps, that we should meet again in this life?"