Then with Czipra's hand in his he walked long up and down his room without a word. Neither knew what to say to the other. They merely reflected how they could comfort each other's sorrow—and could not find a way.
This melancholy reverie was interrupted by Topándy's arrival.
"Now I beg you, Czipra, if you love me—" said Lorand.
If she loved him?
"To say not a single word to anybody of what you have seen. Nothing has happened to me.—If from this moment you ever see me sad, ask me 'What is the matter?' and I shall confess to you. But that pale face shall never be among those for which I mourn."
Czipra was rejoiced at these words.
"Let us show cheerful faces before my uncle and brother. Let us be good-humored. No one shall see the sting within us."
"And who knows, perhaps the bee will die for it—" Czipra departed with a cheery face as she said that. At the door she turned back once more:
"The cards told me all that last night. Till midnight I kept cutting them. But the murderer always threatens you albeit the green-robed girl always defends you.—See, I am so mad—but there is nothing else in which I can believe."
"There will be something else, Czipra," said Lorand. "Now I am going away with my brother to celebrate his marriage, then I shall return again."