the room; after a few
moments, when her eyes were accustomed to this semi-gloom, she found
that she could see every familiar object quite distinctly; even the
shadows did not seem impenetrable, nor could ghosts lurk in the unseen
portions of the tiny room.

Of course there was no hope of sleep--Klara knew well the moment that
she looked on the dead man's face, that she would always see it before
her--to the end of her days. She saw it now, quite distinctly--especially
when she closed her eyes; the moonlit yard, the shadow that fell from
the tall sunflowers, and the huddled, dark mass on the ground, with the
turned-up face and the sightless eyes. But she was not afraid; she only
felt bitterly resentful against Andor, who, she firmly believed, had
played her an odious trick.

She almost felt sorry for Leopold, who had only sinned because of his
great love for her.

CHAPTER XXVIII

"We shall hear of another tragedy by and by."

And so in Marosfalva there was no wedding on the festival day of S.
Michael and All Angels; instead of that, on the day following, there was
a solemn Mass for the dead in the small village church, which was full
to overflowing on that great occasion.

Eros Bela had been found--out in the open--murdered by an unknown hand.
Feher Karoly and his brother, who lived down the Fekete Road, had taken
a cut across the last maize-field--the one situated immediately behind
the inn kept by Ignacz Goldstein, and they had come across Bela's body,
lying in the yard, with face upturned and eyes staring up sightlessly at
the brilliant blue sky overhead.

It was then close on eight o'clock in the morning. The dancing in the
barn had been kept up till then, even though the two most important
personages of the festive gathering were not there to join in the fun.

The bridegroom had not been seen since his brief appearance an hour or
two before supper, and Elsa had only just sat through the meal, trying
to seem cheerful, but obviously hardly able to restrain her tears. After
supper, when her partner sought her for the csardas, she was nowhere to
be found. Kapus Irma--appealed to--said that the girl was fussy and full
of nerves--for all the world like a born lady. She certainly wasn't very
well, had complained of headache, and been allowed by her mother to go
home quietly and turn into bed.

"She has another two jolly days to look forward to," Irma neni had added
complacently. "Perhaps it is as well th