That name fairly magnetized Czipra.—Melanie's fiancé!—So the lover had come after his bride. What a kind fellow this Pepi Gyáli was! A really most amiable young man!
Gyáli quite misunderstood the favorable impression his name and appearance made on Czipra: he was ready to attribute it to his irresistible charms.
After briefly making the acquaintance of the old man, he very rapidly took over the part of courtier, which every cavalier according to the rules of the world is bound to do; besides, she was a gypsy girl, and—Lorand was not jealous.
"You have in one moment explained to me something over which I have racked my brains a whole day."
"What can that be?" inquired Czipra curiously.
"How it is that some one can prefer fried fish and fried rolls at Sárvölgyi's to cabbage at Topándy's?"
"Who may that someone be?"
"Why, I could not understand that Miss Melanie was able to persuade herself to change this house for that; now I know: she must have put up with a great persecution here."
"Persecution?" said Czipra, astonished:—the gentlemen too stared at the speaker.—"Who would have persecuted her?"
"Who? Why these eyes!" said Gyáli, gazing flatteringly into Czipra's eyes. "The poor girl could not stand the rivalry. It is quite natural that the moon, however sweet and poetic a phenomenon, always flees before the sun."