"You remain here," he said, "I will leave you to yourself. I will wait in the cemetery outside, and if I can be of any service to you command me."
"Thank you, sir, I will go too; I have done what I came here to do."
The name of the dear departed was inscribed on the tomb in golden letters, and these letters gleamed forth in the light of the snow: "Madame Kárpáthy, nee Fanny Meyer."
The young artisan removed his cap, and with the same respect, the same reverence with which one touches the lips of the dead, he kissed every letter of the word "Fanny."
"I am not ashamed of this weakness before you," said Alexander, standing up again, "for you have a noble heart, and will not laugh at me."
Rudolf answered nothing, but he turned his head aside. God knows why, but he could not have met the young man's eyes at that moment.
"And now, sir, we can go."
"Where will you spend the night? Come with me to Szentirma!"
"Thank you; you are very good to me, but I must return this very hour. The moon will soon be up, and there will be light enough to see my way by. I must make haste, for there's lots for me to do at home."