Panting, hot and beaming, the dancers now
mingled with the rest of the throng, and a pandemonium of laughter and
chatter soon filled the barn from end to end.

Elsa, in accordance with the custom which holds sway even at village
dances, was even now turning to walk away with her partner, whose duty
it was to conduct her to her mother's side. She felt wrathful with
Bela--as wrathful, at least, as so gentle a creature could be. She was
ashamed of his behaviour, ashamed for herself as well as for him, and
she didn't want to speak with him just now.

But he, still feeling dictatorial and despotic, had not yet finished
asserting his authority. He called to her loudly and peremptorily:

"Elsa! I want a word with you."

"I'll come directly, Bela," she replied, speaking over her shoulder. "I
want to speak to mother for a minute."

"You can speak to her later," he rejoined roughly. "I want a word with
you now."

And without more ado he pushed his way up close to Elsa's side, elbowing
Barna Moritz with scant ceremony. An angry word rose to the younger
man's lips, and a sudden quarrel was only averted by a pleading look
from Elsa's blue eyes. It would have been very unseemly, of course, to
quarrel with one's host on such an occasion. Moritz, swallowing his
wrath, withdrew without a word, even though he cursed Bela for a brute
under his breath.

Bela took Elsa's arm and led her aside out of the crowd.

"You know," he said roughly, "how I hate you to mix with that rowdy lot
like you do; and you know that I look on the csardas as indecent and
vulgar. Why do you do it?"

"The rowdy lot, as you call them, Bela," she replied firmly, "are my
friends, and the csardas is a dance which all true Magyars dance from
childhood."

"I don't choose to allow my wife to dance it," he retorted.

"And after to-morrow I will obey you, Bela. To-day I asked my mother if
I might dance. And she said yes."

"Your mother's a fool," he muttered.

"And remember that to-night I take leave of my girlhood," she said
gently, determined not to quarrel. "My friends like to monopolize me
. . . it's only natural."

"Well! They are not my friends, anyway, and I'd rather you did not dance
another csardas to-night."

"I am sorry, Bela," she said quietly, "but I have promised Feher Karoly
and also Jeno. They would be disappointed if I broke my promise."

"Then they'll have to be disappointed, that's all."

She made no reply, but looking at her face,