A Bride of the Plains Part 26

CHAPTER XXI

"Jealous, like a madman."

"I came to see if Bela was still here," said Andor, as soon as the door had closed on Leopold Hirsch. "One or two chaps whom I met awhile ago told me that he had not been seen in the barn this hour past, and that there was a lot of talk about it. I thought that if he were here, I could persuade you . . ."

He paused, and looked more keenly at the girl.

"What is it, Klara?" he asked; "you seem ill or upset . . ."

She closed her eyes once or twice like someone just waking out of a dream, then she pa.s.sed her hands over her forehead and over her hair.

She felt completely dazed and stupid, as if she had received a stunning blow on the head, and while Andor talked she looked at him with staring eyes, not understanding a word that he said.

"Yes--yes, Andor?" she said vaguely. "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing much, my good Klara," he replied; "it was only about Bela . . ."

"Yes--about Bela," she stammered; "won't . . . won't you sit down?"

"Thank you, I will for a moment."

She moved forward in order to get him a chair, but she found that she could not stand. The moment that she relinquished the prop of the wall, her knees gave way under her and she lurched forward against the table.

She would have fallen had not Andor caught her and guided her to a chair, whereon she sank half fainting, with eyes closed and cheeks and lips the colour of ashes.

Just for the moment the wild thought flew through his mind that she had been induced to drink by one of the men, but a closer look on her wan, pale face and into those dilated eyes of hers convinced him that the girl was in real and acute mental distress.

He went up to the table and poured out a mug of wine, which he held to her lips. She drank eagerly, looking up at him the while with a strangely pathetic, eagerly appealing gaze.

When he had taken the mug from her and replaced it on the table, he drew a chair close to her and said as kindly as he could, for he did not feel very well-disposed toward the girl who was the cause of much unhappiness to Elsa:

"Now, Klara, you are going to tell me what is the matter with you."

But already she had recovered herself a little, and Lakatos Andor's somewhat dictatorial tone grated upon her sensitive ear.

"There's nothing the matter with me," she retorted, with a return of her habitual flippancy. "What should be the matter?"

"I don't know," he said dryly; "and, of course, if you tell me that it's a private affair of your own and none of my business, why I'll be quite satisfied, and not ask any more questions. But if it's anything to do with Bela . . ."

"No, of course not," she broke in impatiently. "What should Bela have to do with my affairs? Bela has been gone from here this hour past."

"And he is not coming back?" asked Andor searchingly.

"I trust not," she replied fervently, and the young man noticed that the staring, terror-filled look once more crept into her eyes.

"Very well, then," he said, rising, "that is all I wanted to know. I am sorry to have disturbed you. Good-night, Klara."

"Good-night," she murmured.

He turned to go, and already his hand was on the latch of the door when an involuntary cry, like a desperate appeal, escaped her lips.

"Andor!"

"What is it?" he said, speaking over his shoulder.

He didn't like the girl: she had been offensive and insolent to Elsa, the cause of Elsa's tears; but just now, when he turned back in answer to that piteous call from her, she looked so forlorn, so pathetic, so terrified that all the kindliness and chivalry which are inherent in the true Magyar peasant rose up in his heart to plead on her behalf.

"You were quite right just now, Andor," she murmured. "I am in trouble--in grave, terrible trouble. . . ."

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" he asked. "No, no, don't get up," he added hurriedly, for she had tried to rise and obviously was still unable to stand, "just stay where you are, and I'll come and sit near you. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Yes!" she whispered under her breath.

"What is it?"

"I don't know what you'll think of me."

"Never mind what I think," he said, a little impatiently; "if there's anything I can do to help you in your trouble I'll do it, but of course I can do nothing unless you tell me all about it."

She was trying to make up her mind to tell him, but it was desperately difficult.

She had always been so careful of her reputation--so careful that not a breath of real scandal should fall on her. She, of the downtrodden race, the Jewess whom even the meanest of the peasant girls thought it her right to despise, had been doubly careful not to give any loophole for gossip. She flirted with all the men, of course--openly and sometimes injudiciously, as in the case of Eros Bela on the eve of his wedding-day; but up to now she had never given any cause for scandal, nor anyone the right to look down on her for any other reason but that of her race and blood, which she could not help.

It was hard, therefore, to have to own to something that distinctly savoured of intrigue, and this to a man who she felt had no cause to be her friend. But the situation was desperate; there was that madman outside! G.o.d only knew of what he would be capable if he found that his jealous suspicions had some measure of foundation! And the young Count--ready to walk presently, without thought of coming danger, into the very clutches of that lunatic.

That of course was unthinkable. There had been murder in Leo's pale eyes when he fingered that awful-looking knife. The girl felt that such a risk could not be run: even the good opinion of the entire village became as nothing in her mind.

And of course there was the hope and chance that Andor would be chivalrous enough to hold his tongue. The young man's keen eyes had watched every phase of the conflict which was so distinctly reflected in the Jewess's mobile face. He waited patiently until he saw determination gradually a.s.serting its sway over her hesitation. The girl interested him, and she was evidently in great trouble. Though he had no liking for her, he was anxious to know what had disturbed her so terribly and genuinely intended to be of use to her. He had no doubt that the trouble had something to do with Leopold Hirsch. Everyone knew the latter's jealous disposition, and Andor had not been home half a day before he had heard plenty of gossip on the subject.

"Well, Klara?" he asked quietly after awhile, when he saw that she appeared to be more calm and more able to speak coherently. "You don't deny that you are in trouble. . . . You have half made up your mind to tell me. . . . Well, then, out with it. . . . What is it?"

"Only that Leopold is a swine," she blurted out roughly.

"Why? What has he done?"

"Jealous," she said; "like a madman."

"Oh?"

"And I'm at my wits' end, Andor," she moaned appealingly. "I don't know what to do."

"Hadn't you better tell me, then?"

She threw back her head and looked him squarely in the face with a sudden determination to end the present agonizing suspense at all costs.

"It is about young Count Feri."

"My lord?" he exclaimed--for, indeed, up to this last moment he had been quite sure in his mind that her trouble had to do with Eros Bela and with her impudent flirtation of this afternoon.

"Yes," she said sullenly, "he's a little sweet on me, you know--he admires me and thinks me amusing--he likes to come here sometimes, when he gets tired of starchy Countesses and Baronesses over at his castle.