"Yes, there was an accident, but in a short time there will be no traces of it, for the earring is here, madame's shoulder is here, it will be blue for some days, but what the devil does that matter, it is not the color makes the shoulder. And the carriage will be all right, too, when the smith has mended it."
"So those horses that were running away with a broken carriage...?"
"Were ours," said Veronica. "They took fright near the brickfield, the coachman lost his hold of the reins, and when he stooped to gather them up, he was thrown out of the carriage. In our fright we jumped out too. I did not hurt myself, but poor madame struck her shoulder on something. I hope it will be nothing serious. Does it hurt very much, Madame Krisbay?"
Madame opened her small yellow eyes, which till then had been closed, and the first sight that met them was Veronica's untidy hair.
"Smooth your hair," she said in French in a low voice, then groaned once or twice, and closed her eyes again.
Veronica, greatly alarmed, raised her hand to her head, and found that one of her plaits was partly undone.
"Oh, my hair!" she exclaimed. "The hairpins must have fallen out when I jumped out of the carriage. What am I to do?"
"Let down the other plait," advised Mravucsán. "That's it, my dear; it is much prettier so, isn't it, Wibra?"
"Much prettier," answered Gyuri, casting an admiring glance at the two black, velvety plaits, with a lovely dark bluish tinge on them, which hung nearly down to the edge of her millefleurs skirt.
So that was the priest's sister. He could hardly believe it, for he had imagined a fat, waddling, red-faced woman, smelling of pomade. That is what parish priests' sisters are generally like. The lawyer thought it was time to start a conversation.