"Well, serve the dinner," said Father János, for, of course, he could not keep his guests waiting, especially as Sztolarik wanted to return home as soon as possible.
So the dishes were brought in one after the other, but still there was no sign of Veronica; and Hanka had returned with the news that no one had seen her.
Gyuri sat in his place, pale and quiet.
"Perhaps she is in the apiary," suggested her brother, "or perhaps" (here he hesitated a minute, not knowing how to continue), "perhaps something unpleasant has taken place between you?"
Gyuri looked up surprised.
"Nothing has taken place between us," he said coldly.
"Then, Hanka, run across to the new house and look in the apiary. Please excuse her, gentlemen, she is such a child still, and follows her own whims. She is probably chasing a butterfly. Take some more wine, Mr. Sztolarik."
He was trying to reassure himself, not his guests, as he sat there listening to every sound, paying scant attention to the conversation, and giving many wrong answers.
Sztolarik asked if the bad weather this year had made much difference to the harvest.
"One or two," answered the priest.