ss a fork, she will not sit down to
table; if there are roses outside in the garden, she will perceive the
smell through double window-panes, and faint, so that no flowers can be
kept in the room where she may happen to be. You must not let anybody in
a blue dress sit down at the same table as herself, for that colour is
horrible to her, and she has convulsions the moment she sees it.
Finally, you will do well to talk of nothing at all in her presence, for
the slightest thing is likely to upset her nerves.

"Ah! next comes the Countess Kereszty. She is an excellent woman. She
has a tall, muscular, masculine figure, with thick, broad eyebrows. She
never speaks in a voice lower than what is usually required for
commanding a regiment; while her gruffest voice is sufficient to utterly
embarrass a nervous man, especially as she has a trick of perpetually
interrupting the person talking to her with her 'How--why--wherefore's?'
and, when she begins to laugh, the whole room trembles. She dragoons
every assembly which she honours with her presence; and whomsoever she
is angry with had much better have been born blind. Our very young men
have a cold ague fit when they see her, for she inspires them with as
much terror as any professor, and, besides that, can speak fluent Latin,
has the code at her fingers' ends, can hold her own against the most
astute of advocates, drinks like a fish, and revels in tobacco. It is
true she does not drive her own horses; but, should the coachman drive
badly, she is quite capable of snatching the whip from his hand and
belabouring him with the handle. For the rest, she is the best-hearted
creature in the world, and readily makes friends. Kiss her hand, and
call her 'My lady sister,' and you need not have the slightest fear of
her; for she will love you, make herself your champion, and woe betide
whomsoever dares to disparage you behind your back when she is present,
for she will make them stampede in every direction.

"And now we come to Lady Szepkiesdy. She is a quiet, silent woman, whom
it is impossible to offend. Her husband has found out from experience
that nothing pains her; but, on the other hand, there is nothing that
can make her happy. And her whole face, her whole figure, seems to
express but one wish, but one desire--the longing to be under the sod as
soon as possible."

"Poor lady!"

"And she is also tormented by the knowledge that every pretty face she
sees will cause her misery i