nd, Melanie, that beautiful dear creature? Take
a short leave of her. But where has she gone to?"

Lorand did not move a muscle to go and look for Czipra.

"Well we shall meet the dear child again soon," said Madame Balnokhazy,
noticing that they were waiting in vain. "Give me your arm, Lorand."

She leaned on Lorand's right arm, and motioned to Melanie to take her
position on the other side; but the girl did not do so. Instead she
clasped her mother's arm, and so they went along the street, the mother
waving back affectionately to Topandy, who gazed after them out of the
window.

Melanie did not utter a single word the whole way.

"The old fellow, it seems, is on bad terms with Sarvoelgyi?"

"Yes."

"Is he still as iconoclastic, as godless, as ever?"

"Yes."

"And you have been able to stand it so long?"

"Yes."

"And yet you were always so pious, so god-fearing; are you still?"

"Yes."

"So Topandy and Sarvoelgyi are living on terms of open enmity?"

"Yes."

"Yet you will visit us several times, while we are here?"

"No."

"Heaven be praised that once I hear a 'no' from you! That heap of
_yes's_ began already to make me nervous. Then you too are among _his_
opponents?"

"Yes."

Meantime they had reached the gate of Sarvoelgyi's house. Here Lorand
stopped and would proceed no further.

Madame Balnokhazy clasped Melanie's hand that she might not go in front.

"Well, my dear Lorand, and are you not going to take leave of us even?"

Lorand gazed at Melanie, who did not even raise her eyes.

"Good-bye, Madame," said Lorand briefly. He raised his hat and was gone.

Madame Balnokhazy cast one glance after him with those beautiful
expressive eyes.--Those beautiful expressive eyes just then were full to
the brim of relentless hatred.

When Lorand reached home Czipra was waiting for him at the door.

Raising her first finger, she whispered in his ear:

"That was the yellow-robed woman!"

Yet she had nothing yellow on her.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE FINGER-POST OF DEATH

Lorand threw himself exhausted into his arm-chair.

There was an end to every attempt at escape.

He had been recognized by the very woman who ought to detest him more
bitterly than anyone in the world.

Nemesis! the liberal hand of everlasting justice!

He had deserted that woman in the middle of the road, on which they were
flying together passionately into degradation, and now that he wished to
return to life, t