The good grandmother, embracing Fanny's shoulder, related to her how many, many years ago they had waited one night for the two brothers to come, but that was a very awful night, and the waiting was very sorrowful. The wind howled among the acacias, clouds chased each other across the sky, hounds howled in the village, a hay-wain rattled in at the gate—and in it was hidden the coffin.—And the populace was very suspicious: they thought the ice would break its bounds, if a dead man were taken over it.
But now it was quite a different world. The air was still, not a breath of air: man and beast sleeps, only those are awake who await a bride.
How different the weather!
Then, all at once, a wain had stood at the gate: the servants hastened to open it.
A hay-wain now rattled in at the gate, as it did then.
And after the wain, on foot, the two brothers, hand in hand.
The women rushed to meet them, Lorand was the first whom everyone embraced and kissed.
"And your wife?" asked every lip.
Lorand pointed speechlessly to the wain, and could not tell them.
Desiderius answered in his place.