"I did it for your sake. Will you not exchange?"

"No; I would not for the world wear that flower; I should think I had
stolen it from that poor girl."

"Will you really not accept it?"

"No!"

Gyuri threw the rose away, and it rolled down the hillside in the dust
and dirt.

Veronica gazed pityingly after the flower as long as it was visible,
then turned angrily to Gyuri.

"Is that the way to treat a flower? Had it hurt you in any way?"

"Yes," answered the lawyer shortly.

"Did it prick you?"

"It informed me of a very unpleasant fact."

"What was it?"

"It whispered the continuation of my last night's dream to me."

"What a little chatterbox!"

She turned her big eyes upon Gyuri and spoke in a jesting tone.

"I should have had a refusal!"

Veronica threw back her head, and turned her eyes toward heaven.

"Poor Mr. Wibra!" she exclaimed. "What misfortune to be refused in a
dream!"

"Pray go on, make as much fun of it as you like," he said bitterly.

"And are you sure you would have been refused?"

"Yes, now I am sure of it," he answered sadly. "You might guess now of
whom I dreamed."

"Of me?" she asked surprised, and the smile died away on her lips. "Of
me?" she stammered again, then was silent, descending the hill quietly
in madame's wake with bent head. She had lifted the skirt of her dress a
little to prevent its dragging in the dust, and her little feet were
partly visible as she tripped along with regular steps, treading on the
grass and flowers, which, however, were not crushed by her footsteps,
but rose again as she passed on.

A tiny lizard crossed their path, its beautiful colors shining in the
sunlight. But what a sad fate befell it! Just at that moment a giant
(well known in Besztercebanya) came that way, murmuring: "Why should it
live?" and bringing down a heavy heel severed the poor lizard's head
from its body.

Veronica just then turned round, and saw the cruel action; she felt
inclined to cry over the poor lizard, but did not dare to say anything,
for she herself began to be afraid of this Goliath, so she only murmured
under her breath: "Wretch!"

When they were farther down the hill she saw before her the rose he had
thrown away; there it lay, dirty and dusty, among the stones by the
roadside, and, obeying a sudden impulse, she bent and picked it up,
blowing the dust off its rosy petals, and then she placed it in the
bosom of her dress, where it seemed as though it were