Chapter 50
"They have become a little crumpled in packing. Please have them bring me an iron; I must iron them before I hang them up."
"Do you wish to iron them yourself?"
"Naturally. There are not many of them: those I must make respectable--the servant can heat the iron. Oh, they must last a long time."
"Why haven't you brought more with you?"
Melanie's face for a moment flushed a full rose--then she answered this indiscreet inquiry calmly:
"Simply, my dear Czipra, because the rest were seized by our creditors, who claimed them as a debt."
"Couldn't you have antic.i.p.ated them?"
Melanie clasped her hands on her breast, and said with the astonishment of moral aversion:
"How? By doing so I should have swindled them."
Czipra recollected herself.
"True; you are right."
Czipra helped Melanie to put her things in the cupboards. With a woman's critical eye, she examined everything. She found the linen not fine enough, though the work on it pleased her well. That was Melanie's own handiwork. As regards books, there was only one in the trunk, a prayer-book. Czipra opened it and looked into it. There were steel plates in it. The portrait of a beautiful woman, seven stars round her head, raising her tear-stained eyes to Heaven: and the picture of a kneeling youth, round the fair bowed head of whom the light of Heaven was pouring. Long did she gaze at the pictures. Who could those figures be?
There were no jewels at all among the new-comer's treasures.
Czipra remarked that Melanie's ear-rings were missing.
"You have left your earrings behind too?" she asked, hiding any want of tenderness in the question by delivering it in a whisper.
"Our solicitor told me," said Melanie, with downcast eyes, "that those earrings also were paid for by creditors' money:--and he was right. I gave them to him."
"But the holes in your ears will grow together; I shall give you some of mine."
Therewith she ran to her room, and in a few moments returned with a pair of earrings.
Melanie did not attempt to hide her delight at the gift.
"Why, my own had just such sapphires, only the stones were not so large."
And she kissed Czipra, and allowed her to place the earrings in her ears.
With the earrings came a brooch. Czipra pinned it in Melanie's collar, and her eyes rested on the pretty collar itself: she tried it, looked at it closely and could not discover "how it was made."
"Don't you know that work? it is crochet, quite a new kind of fancy-work, but very easy. Come, I will show you right away."
Thereupon she took out two crochet needles and a reel of cotton from her work-case, and began to explain the work to Czipra: then she gave it to her to try. Her first attempt was very successful. Czipra had learned
Czipra spent an hour with Melanie and an hour later came to the conclusion that she was only now beginning--to be a girl.
At supper they appeared with their arms round each other's necks.
The first evening was one of unbounded delight to Czipra.
This girl did not represent any one of those hateful pictures she had conjured up in the witches' kettle of her imagination. She was no rival; she was not a great lady, she was a companion, a child of seventeen years, with whom she could prattle away the time, and before whom she must not choose her words so nicely, seeing that she was not so sensitive to insult. And it seemed that Melanie liked the idea of there being a girl in the house, whose presence threw a gleam of pleasure on the solitude.
Czipra might also be content with Melanie's conduct towards Lorand. Her eyes never rested on the young man's face, although they did not avoid his gaze. She treated him indifferently, and the whole day only exchanged words with him when she thanked him for filling her gla.s.s with water.
And indeed Lorand had reduced his external advantages to such a severe simplicity by wearing his hair closely cropped, and his every movement was marked by that languid, lazy stooping att.i.tude which is usually the special peculiarity of those who busy themselves with agricultural work, that Melanie's eyes had no reason to be fixed specially upon him.
Oh, the eyes of a young girl of seventeen summers cannot discover manly beauty under such a dust-stained, neglected exterior.
Lorand felt relieved that Melanie did not recognize him. Not a single trace of surprise showed itself on her face, not a single searching glance betrayed the fact that she thought of the original of a well-known countenance when she saw this man who had met her by chance far away from home. Lorand's face, his gait, his voice, all were strange to her. The face had grown older, the gait was that of a farmer, the old beautiful voice had deepened into a perfect baritone.
Nor did they meet often, except at dinner, supper and breakfast. Melanie pa.s.sed the rest of the day without a break, by Czipra's side.
Czipra was six years her senior, and she made a good protectress; that continuous woman's chattering, of which Topandy had said, that, if one hour pa.s.sed without its being heard, he should think he had come to the land of the dead:--a man grew to like that after awhile. And side by side with the quick-handed, quick-tongued maiden, whose every limb was full of electric springiness, was that charming clumsiness of the neophyte,--such a contrast! How they laughed together when Melanie came to announce that she had forgotten to put yeast in the cake, both her hands covered with sticky leaven, for all the world as if she were wearing winter gloves; or when, at Cizpra's command, she tried to take a little yellow downy chicken from the cold courtyard to a warm room, keeping up the while a lively duel with the jealous brood-hen, till finally Melanie was obliged to run.
How much two girls can laugh together over a thousand such humorous nothings!
And how they could chatter over a thousand still more humorous nothings, when of an evening, by moonlight, they opened the window looking out on the garden, and lying on the worked window-cus.h.i.+ons, talked till midnight, of all the things in which no one else was interested?
Melanie could tell many new things to Czipra which the latter delighted to hear.
There was one thing which they had touched on once or twice jestingly, and which Czipra would have particularly loved to extract from her.
Melanie, now and again forgetting herself, would sigh deeply.
"Did that sigh speak to someone afar off?"
Or when at dinner she left the daintiest t.i.tbit on her plate.
"Did some one think just now of some one far away, who is perhaps famis.h.i.+ng?"
"Oh, that 'some one' is not famis.h.i.+ng"--whispered Melanie in answer.
So there was "somebody" after all.
That made Czipra glad.
That evening during the conversation she introduced the subject.
"Who is that 'some one?'"
"He is a very excellent youth: and is on close terms with many foreign princes. In a short time he won himself great fame. Everyone exalts him.
He came often to our house during papa's life-time, and they intended me to be his bride even in my early days."
"Handsome?" inquired Czipra. That was the chief thing to know.