yed forward and buried her
face on his breast....

Half an hour later Swithin was pacing up and down his room. The scent of
rose leaves had not yet died away. A glove lay on the floor; he picked
it up, and for a long time stood weighing it in his hand. All sorts of
confused thoughts and feelings haunted him. It was the purest and least
selfish moment of his life, this moment after she had yielded. But that
pure gratitude at her fiery, simple abnegation did not last; it was
followed by a petty sense of triumph, and by uneasiness. He was still
weighing the little glove in his hand, when he had another visitor. It
was Kasteliz.

"What can I do for you?" Swithin asked ironically.

The Hungarian seemed suffering from excitement. Why had Swithin left his
charges the night before? What excuse had he to make? What sort of
conduct did he call this?

Swithin, very like a bull-dog at that moment, answered: What business was
it of his?

The business of a gentleman! What right had the Englishman to pursue a
young girl?

"Pursue?" said Swithin; "you've been spying, then?"

"Spying--I--Kasteliz--Maurus Johann--an insult!"

"Insult!" sneered Swithin; "d'you mean to tell me you weren't in the
street just now?"

Kasteliz answered with a hiss, "If you do not leave the city I will make
you, with my sword--do you understand?"

"And if you do not leave my room I will throw you out of the window!"

For some minutes Kasteliz spoke in pure Hungarian while Swithin waited,
with a forced smile and a fixed look in his eye. He did not understand
Hungarian.

"If you are still in the city to-morrow evening," said Kasteliz at last
in English, "I will spit you in the street."

Swithin turned to the window and watched his visitor's retiring back with
a queer mixture of amusement, stubbornness, and anxiety. 'Well,' he
thought, 'I suppose he'll run me through!' The thought was unpleasant;
and it kept recurring, but it only served to harden his determination.
His head was busy with plans for seeing Rozsi; his blood on fire with the
kisses she had given him.

IX

Swithin was long in deciding to go forth next day. He had made up his
mind not to go to Rozsi till five o'clock. 'Mustn't make myself too
cheap,' he thought. It was a little past that hour when he at last
sallied out, and with a beating heart walked towards Boleskey's. He
looked up at the window, more than half expecting to see Rozsi there; but
she was not,