They were handing round the tea, and the Countess X—— had just begun to sing the "Casta Diva," when Abellino's lackey sidled up to his master and whispered in his ear—
"I have just seen Miss Fanny Meyer descending from a carriage."
Abellino pressed into the servant's hand as many ducats as he happened to have about him, pulled himself together, and got up and looked at himself in a mirror. He was elegant and genteel, at any rate, that everybody would be bound to allow. His whole get-up was unexceptionable—his chin was clean-shaven, his moustache and whiskers were downright picturesque, his cravat was ravishing, and his vest magnificent.
And now the flunkey whose duty it was to announce the arrivals, entered the room (Abellino caught sight of him in the mirror), and announced in his ceremonious salon voice, "Madame Fanny de Kárpáthy, née de Meyer!"
"The deuce!" thought Abellino; "the wench is making pretty free with my name. Can she be taking me seriously? Well, she may do so if she likes. It doesn't matter much."
"Ah, a wedding!" exclaimed Mons. Griffard. "Then you are marrying, eh?"
"Oh, it is only a left-handed marriage," said Abellino, jocosely.
Some of the guests, full of curiosity, pressed forward to meet the new arrivals. The host, I mean Mr. Kecskerey, went towards the entrance; the lackey threw open the folding-doors, and a young lady entered, accompanied by a gentleman. For a moment the whole company was dumb with amazement. Was it the sight of the young lady that amazed them so? She was beautiful, certainly. A simple but costly lace mantle floated, wave-like,
round her superb figure; the rich tresses of her hair were covered by a slight veil of Brussels lace, which allowed her long curls à l'Anglaise to sweep down on both sides over her marble-smooth shoulders and ravishingly beautiful bosom. And then that face, that complexion like a faintly blushing rose, that look worthy of a goddess, those burning black eyes so full of vivacity and passion, and contrasting so strangely with the childlike lips suggestive of sleeping innocence, but harmonizing on the other hand with the dimples on her rosy chin and cheeks, set there surely for the undoing of any human soul who saw a smile upon them!
And there was a smile upon them now, as Mr. Kecskerey came forward without exactly knowing what to say.