She was well aware now of what her brother was accused, and never doubted for a moment what she ought to do. She ought to atone for his fault by an act of self-sacrifice. She must recognize the forgery as her real signature. But what then? The recognition of the signature must needs have consequences. What would be the result of her action?
She could see she had no help to expect from her husband. At every step she perceived that he eagerly sought occasion to quarrel with her and seized every pretext for avoiding her. And now to add to her embarrassment, there was this unlucky Mikalai accident. It seemed just to have come in the nick of time so far as he was concerned, just as if he had actually agreed with Fatia Negra that the latter should rob him on the high road in the most artful manner so that she might not have the slightest hope left of being relieved from her anxieties by the assistance of her husband. The baron, now could always end every tête-à-tête by remarking that that rogue Fatia Negra had relieved him of all his money, and he knew not how to make good his loss.
One day, while away from home hunting at Csáko, Baron Leonard learnt that the Countess Kengyelesy's latest ideal was Szilard Vámhidy and when chance soon afterwards brought him also to Arad, he could see for himself that the countess really did load the young man with distinction in society.
The circumstance began to irritate him.
This pale-faced youth with the big burning eyes had turned the head of his own consort once upon a time, and now he was making other enviable conquests. The idea occurred to Hátszegi to knock this "student chap" out of his saddle a second time. Heretofore he had never regarded the countess as a particularly pretty woman, but now he very readily persuaded himself that he was over head and ears in love with her.
He began to pay his court to her—and he was lucky. At least everybody believed it—himself included.
The countess always seemed pleased to see him, and the oftener he paid his visits, the less frequent grew the visits of Szilard. Occasionally they met at the countess's and then Szilard would hastily step aside, as vanquished rivals are wont to do when their conquerors appear. At last Leonard was a daily institution at the countess's, while Szilard only appeared there occasionally.
Yet one day, while Hátszegi was in the drawing room of the countess, paying his court to her most assiduously, Vámhidy entered sans gêne; whereupon the countess hastily springing up from her causeuse asked leave of the baron to withdraw for a moment and there and then conducted Vámhidy into her private boudoir and remained closeted with him for a good quarter of an hour, whilst Hátszegi, yellow with jealousy, was left alone with the countess's French companion, who could answer nothing but "oui" and "non" to all his remarks.
When the countess emerged from her room, she seemed to be in a very good humour. She accompanied Szilard all the way to the drawing-room door, pressed his hand, and when they parted at the door exchanged a significant look with him, at the same time touching her lips with her index finger—a very confidential piece of pantomime as any connoisseur will tell you.
And all this Hátszegi saw reflected in the mirror, opposite to which he sat.