"Make no such rash vow. You are but twenty-four years old. You were not born to be a Carthusian monk. The world is full of pretty faces and loving hearts, and even you are sure to find one for yourself."
"You know there is none among them for me," returned the young man.
"But what if I have already found one?"
"Your quest has been in vain, mother."
"Say not so," rejoined the other, tenderly drawing her son to her side. "Can you pass judgment without first seeing? She whom I have chosen is good and beautiful, and loves you fondly."
"She may be as beautiful as a fairy and as good as an angel, with a heart more full of love than even your own; yet I care not to see her."
"Oh, do not speak so rashly; you might repent it. I am sure you will retract your words when you see her face. Come, I will show it to you in the next room."
"It will have no effect on me," declared Ödön.
The mother led her son to the door and let him open it and enter first. There stood Aranka, trembling with expectant happiness.
Hastening to her own room, the baroness drew from her portfolio the memorable document dictated to her by her dying husband, and underscored with a red pencil the lines referring to the event which that day had witnessed.