"Joseph Gyáli."
Czipra put the ring on again. She was very contented with this discovery. The ring of an old love, who was a handsome man, excellent, and celebrated, was there on her finger. Peace was hallowed. Now she believed thoroughly in Melanie, she believed that the indifference Melanie showed towards Lorand was no mere pretence. The field was already occupied by another.
But if she was quite at rest as regards Melanie, she could be less assured as to the peaceful intentions of Lorand's eyes.
How those eyes feasted themselves every day on Melanie's countenance!
Of course, who could be indignant if men's eyes were attracted by the "beautiful?" It has ever been their privilege.
But it is the marvellous gift of woman's eyes to be able to tell the distinction between look and look. Through the prism of jealousy the eye-beam is refracted to its primary colors; and this wonderful optical analysis says: this is the twinkle of curiosity, that the coquettish ogle, this the fire of love, that the dark-blue of abstraction.
Czipra had not studied optics, but this optical analysis she understood very well.
She did not seem to be paying attention; it seemed as if she did not notice, as if her eyes were not at work; yet she saw and knew everything.
Lorand's eyes feasted upon the beautiful maiden's figure.
Every time he saw her, they dwelt upon her: as the bee feasts upon the invisible honey of the flower, and slowly a suspicion dawned upon Czipra. Every glance was a home-returning bee who brings home the honey of love to a humming heart.