[20] Biscuit.
How I was scalded and reduced to nothing, how I blushed before Melanie! The idea of my learning to bake biscuits from M. Fromm! I should never be able to wash myself clean of that suspicion.
In my despair I found myself looking at Lorand. He also was looking at me. His gaze has remained lividly imprinted in my memory. I understood what he said with his eyes. He called me coward, miserable, and sensitive, for allowing the jests of great men to bring blushes to my cheeks. He was a democrat always!
When he saw that I was blushing, he turned obstinately toward Bálnokházy, to reply for me.
But I was not the only one who read his thoughts in his eyes; another also read therein, and before he could have spoken, my beautiful aunt took the words out of his mouth, and with lofty dignity replied to her husband:
"Methinks the baker is just as good a man as the privy councillor."
I shivered at the bold statement. I imagined that for these words the whole company would be arrested and thrown into prison.
Bálnokházy, with smiling tenderness, bent down to his wife's hand and, kissing it, said:
"As a man, truly, just as good a man; but as a baker, a better baker than I."
Now it was Lorand's turn to crimson. He riveted his eyes upon my aunt's face.