THE BLACK JEWELRY
It was during this time that Henrietta cherished the bizarre illusion that it was her vocation to cultivate the acquaintance of the honest but homely peasantry living around, in whose lowly circles a widowed protestant pastor's wife and a worn-out old miner were the principal personages. Her husband laughed good-humouredly at her vagaries, as he called them: "She is only a child," he cried, "let her play and cut out dolls' clothes for those who want them! When she has grown up, she will very soon look out for other diversions." "My dear child," he would sometimes say to her, "do exactly as you like. I only beg of you one thing: whenever you are tired of these innocent, well-meaning illusions and return to rough, prosaic, brutal reality; whenever you feel yourself deceived or wounded by those whom you may have implicitly trusted, pray recollect that you have a natural protector, a real friend—your husband!"
Thus it was that Hátszegi spoke to his child-wife on the rare occasions when they met together.
It was only rarely, for they saw nothing of each other for the greater part of the day. During the so-called honey-moon the husband and wife had scarcely spent half an hour a day in each other's company.
On one occasion the pastor went to Déva, and when he returned he had a lot to tell her ladyship of a fine young fellow, Szilard by name, who held the office of magistrate at Lippá. His other name he had forgotten, but Henrietta easily guessed it. Mr. Szilard had been very polite to him, the parson added, and had joyfully listened to all he had to tell him about Hidvár and its mistress; but when the priest had pressed him to pay a visit to that part of the country to see and admire its rare natural beauties, the young man had replied: "Anywhere in the world but there." What possible objection could he have against the district?
This piece of news gave Henrietta plenty to think about for days and nights together. So Szilard had not remained at Pest; he had followed her to the utmost confines of the realm; they were now quite close to each other and yet he would not see her. He seeks her out and avoids her at the same time. What a romantic dreamer!
And yet there was nothing romantic in it after all. Szilard had come to Arad county on a visit to Mr. Sipos's relations; he had been elected a magistrate there, and he did not approach Hidvár because he had no desire to run after a former sweetheart who was now another man's wife. As for Henrietta she had long ago earned from her husband's friends the name of the "little nun," the "little eremite" because nothing could entice her from her seclusion. If only they had known her thoughts!
One day, however, she surprised her husband by expressing a wish to go to the Charity Ball at a neighbouring mining town; it was for raising funds to build up again a burnt-down village.
Hátszegi, always courteous, bowed and consented.
Henrietta had made up her mind to go as simply dressed as possible. She wanted to be modest and humble, as it befitted a woman who, rich herself, envied everyone who was poor. While she was still in the midst of her preparations, she received through the post (Margari went to the nearest post-office once a week) a little sealed packet which, to judge from the postmark, must have been posted at Lippá. Before breaking it open, she locked herself in her room, like one about to commit a capital offence, and three times examined the seals which guarded it before she ventured to open it. The seal bore the impress not of a crest or an initial letter as usual, but of a single star. There could be no doubt whatever now as to who the sender was.