"But what's the matter? What has happened? Why do you laugh?"
"Listen to him!" cried the count, turning to the bystanders. "He actually has the impertinence to ask us why we laugh! Come, sir! where did you leave the Baroness Hátszegi?"
"I don't see what there is to laugh at at such a question?" replied Gerzson, in whose mind all sorts of dark forebodings began to arise.
"What have you done with the baroness? What have you done with our friend Leonard's wife, I say?" persisted the count.
"That is a perfect riddle to me," growled Gerzson in a low voice.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the count, "it is a riddle to him what has become of his travelling companion."
"But can any of you tell me what has happened to her? Is she alive?"
The count clapped his hands together and flung his round hat upon the ground.
"Now, that is what I call a leetle too strong! He asks: is she alive? Why, comrade, where have you been in hiding all this time?"
"A truce to jesting," cried Gerzson fiercely. "Tell me all you know about it, for it is no joking matter for me, I can assure you."