"I know," said Mrs. Ershebet; "and I consented only to please my daughter. Speak, Vilma!"
But Vilma did not speak. She looked vainly for a form of words in which to prefer her suit.
"Am I to be informed of the matter or not?" said Tengelyi, impatiently. "She cannot have committed a crime!"
"Of course not, dear father. But you promised me not to be angry."
"To be angry? do I look like a tyrant? Tell me girl, where have you learned to fear your father?"
"No, father, I am not afraid of you," said Vilma. "If I did wrong, I know you will tell me that it was wrong, and I shall have your pardon for it. But I do not think I did wrong. You know there was an execution in the village, and you went away with Vandory, for you said you could be of no use to the poor people, and their sorrow grieved you too much. Mother and I remained at home, and saw all the horror. They took our neighbour's cows, and from John Farkash they took the pillows and blankets of his bed, and Peter's widow (you know she used to sell eggs, and do jobs in the town,) has lost her donkey. The son of the woman Farkash would not allow them to take his mother's bed away, and they beat him and bound him with cords, and took him to the justice's. They say he is going to prison to-morrow. We saw and heard all this," continued Vilma, wiping her eyes, "and we wept bitterly. Mother said it must be so, for the taxes are put on by law, and these poor people were not able to pay their dues. But I prayed that you might come home soon, for you read so often in your law-books, and I should say there must be some little law in those books providing that something at least ought to be left to the poor who cannot pay their taxes, hard though they may work."
"You are wrong, dearest child," said Tengelyi, "you would vainly look for such a law in my books. The nation have been so busy for the last 800 years, that they have not found time to make such a law."
"Have they not? Then I am afraid their laws will do little good, for they want God's blessing!" said Vilma, with a deep sigh. "But though the law may not, our Creed assuredly does command us to pity our neighbour's sufferings, and therefore I went to Mrs. Farkash to see whether I could not help them in some way. We are not rich, but we can do something for an honest man, and the Farkashes were always good neighbours."
"You did right, my daughter," said Tengelyi, whose eyes filled with tears. "You did right; may God bless you! I, too, have eaten the bread of poverty; and I will not shut my door against my neighbour."
"I thought so, too," said Mrs. Tengelyi, pressing her husband's hand.