And then in those beautiful eyes. Could he, on whom those two stars smiled, die? Could he wish for annihilation, at the very gate of Heaven?
And he found no small joy in the thought that he was to take that Heaven away from the opponent, who would love to bury him down in the cold earth.
Lorand began to yield himself to his fate. He desired to live. He began to suspect that there was some happiness in the world. Calm, secret happiness, only known to those two beings who have given it to each other by mutual exchange.
We often see this phenomenon in life. A handsome cavalier, who was the lion of society, disappears from the perfumed drawing-room world, and years after can scarcely be recognized in the country farmer, with his rough appearance and shabby coat. A happy family life has wrought this change in him. It is not possible that this same happy feeling which could produce that out of the brilliant, buttoned dress-coat, could let down the young man's pride of character, and give him in its stead an easy-going, wide and water-proof work-a-day blouse, could give him towards the world indifference and want of interest? Let his opponent cry from end to end of the country with mocking guffaws that Lorand Áronffy is no cavalier, no gentleman; the smile of his wife will be compensation for his lost pride.
Now the only thing he required was the eternal silence of the one man, who was permitted to know of his whereabouts, his brother.
Should he make everything known to him?—give entirely into his hands the duel he had accepted, his marriage and the power that held sway over his life, that he might keep off the threatening terror which had hitherto kept him far from brother and parents?
It was a matter that must be well considered and reflected upon.
Lorand became very meditative some days later.
Once after dinner Czipra grasped his hand and said playfully:
"You are thinking very deeply about something. You are pale. Come, I will tell you your fortune."