"You saw it, eh? And did anybody else see it?"
Hátszegi was strangely surprised by this question.
"What is in your mind, Countess?" he asked.
"I am thinking, my dear friend, that you have some particular reason for playing the injured man, and I have read the whole tale of the Maccabees in some history or other of the Jews which you would now palm off upon the world as something new."
"Your jests are most unmerciful, Countess; but may I beg of you to give that piano a little rest, especially as it wants tuning. I should like to speak seriously to you for a moment or two."
"About the Maccabees, eh?" enquired the countess, laughing.
"No. About myself. I am quite serious when I say I have had losses. Your ladyship need not know how. But for all that I know what a gentleman ought to do after such a revelation as that with which the countess has just honoured me and which I accept as a most flattering mark of confidence."
"Impossible."
"What I say is never impossible; but what that student fellow has chosen to palm off on your ladyship that is impossible. He will not be able to help your ladyship without a great scandal. Naturally a mere attorney looks upon that as a matter of course. He does not understand that there are cases in which a person would rather spring into a well than risk her reputation in the eyes of the world by appealing to the courts for redress. I make your ladyship another proposal: I will exchange a bond of my own against the bond of the countess to an equal amount. I feel confident that the usurers will lend readily on my paper and will jump at the exchange."
"Oh, many thanks, many thanks! But, first of all, I should like to know what interest you mean to charge me; for I am not going to pay anything usurious again."