Why, if she had been carried up to the heights of heaven or down to the depths of hell; if she had been fenced about in a rock-girt fortress, or if wrathful archangels had guarded her with flaming swords, she would not have been so completely shielded from him as by that talismanic name—"Madame John Kárpáthy!"
It was impossible for him to have any relations whatever with Madame John Kárpáthy!
Every eye that had sated itself with gazing on the beautiful young bride, strayed back to him, and every look fixed upon him was full of scorn and ridicule. The dandy, who was celebrating his uncle's wedding! The outwitted suitor, whose adored one gave her hand—not to him, but to his uncle!
It almost did Abellino good to see some one in the company who seemed to be as hard hit as himself—namely, Monsieur Griffard, and true, even now, to his malicious nature, he turned towards the banker and inquired mockingly—
"Qu'en dites vous, M. Griffard?"
"C'est bien fatal!"
"Mon cher Abellino!" said Fennimore, who chanced to be standing by him, and never had his thin drawling voice seemed so offensive, "it looks very much as if you owed me a thousand ducats. Ha, ha, ha!"
Abellino turned furiously upon him, but at that instant his eyes met those of Squire John, who
had just then reached the place where he was standing, with his wife under his arm, and introduced them to each other with the most benevolent smile in the world.
"My dear wife, this is my dear little brother Bélá Kárpáthy. My dear little brother, I recommend my dear wife to your kinsmanlike regard!"