ded with men all women; Swithin
noticed that they all looked fit him. He stared at them in turn--they
seemed of all classes, some in black coats or silk dresses, others in the
clothes of work-people; one man, a cobbler, still wore his leather apron,
as if he had rushed there straight from his work. Laying his hand on
Swithin's arm, Boleskey evidently began explaining who he was; hands were
extended, people beyond reach bowed to him. Swithin acknowledged the
greetings with a stiff motion of his head; then seeing other people
dropping into seats, he, too, sat down. Some one whispered his
name--Margit and Rozsi were just behind him.

"Welcome!" said Margit; but Swithin was looking at Rozsi. Her face was
so alive and quivering! 'What's the excitement all about?' he thought.
'How pretty she looks!' She blushed, drew in her hands with a quick
tense movement, and gazed again beyond him into the room. 'What is it?'
thought Swithin; he had a longing to lean back and kiss her lips. He
tried angrily to see what she was seeing in those faces turned all one
way.

Boleskey rose to speak. No one moved; not a sound could be heard but the
tone of his deep voice. On and on he went, fierce and solemn, and with
the rise of his voice, all those faces-fair or swarthy--seemed to be
glowing with one and the same feeling. Swithin felt the white heat in
those faces--it was not decent! In that whole speech he only understood
the one word--"Magyar" which came again and again. He almost dozed off at
last. The twang of a czymbal woke him. 'What?' he thought, 'more of that
infernal music!' Margit, leaning over him, whispered: "Listen! Racoczy!
It is forbidden!" Swithin saw that Rozsi was no longer in her seat; it
was she who was striking those forbidden notes. He looked
round--everywhere the same unmoving faces, the same entrancement, and
fierce stillness. The music sounded muffled, as if it, too, were
bursting its heart in silence. Swithin felt within him a touch of panic.
Was this a den of tigers? The way these people listened, the ferocity of
their stillness, was frightful...! He gripped his chair and broke into a
perspiration; was there no chance to get away? 'When it stops,' he
thought, 'there'll be a rush!' But there was only a greater silence. It
flashed across him that any hostile person coming in then would be torn
to pieces. A woman sobbed. The whole thing was beyond words unpleasant.
He rose, and edged his way furtivel