"Now, my angel," said he, "you remember I promised you I would dance the Szekler dance at your wedding. Have the goodness to pay attention, and you will see something that is not to be seen every day."
The Szekler dance resembles no other terpsichorean exercise, nor is it by any means easy of execution. It calls for sinews of steel and great suppleness of limb. To make it still more difficult, the performer is obliged to provide his own music by singing a merry popular ballad while he dances. He throws himself first on one leg, then on the other, bending his knee and sinking nearly to the floor, while he extends the other leg straight before him, raises one hand above his head, and rests the other on his hip. His heels must never touch the floor, nor may he, while bobbing thus comically up and down and trolling his lively ditty, suffer his face to relax from that expression of sober and dignified earnestness which marks the true Szekler. It is a dance and a display of great physical strength and endurance at the same time.
While Aaron's performance was still in progress, his brother Alexander broke through the circle of spectators and whispered something in his ear, whereupon the dancer immediately ceased his exhibition with the cry, "They have come!"
With an exclamation of joy Blanka sprang up from her seat. She wished to be the first to welcome the long-awaited pair.
"Sister-in-law," cried Alexander, "don't go out! Don't let her go out!"
But it was too late. Two horses stood before the door, and on one of them sat Zenobia. Blanka ran to her and took her hand.
"Have you come at last?" she exclaimed. "Oh, how long we've been looking for you! Let me help you down."
Zenobia, however, sat silent and made no move to dismount.
"Where is Jonathan?" asked Blanka.
"There he is." Zenobia pointed to the other horse, on whose back was bound a swathed form—a corpse.