"Well, I will as soon as I have got my wits together. The last time I was at the Hortobágy inn was last year, on Demeter's day, when they engage the shepherds. Then they took me for a soldier, and I have not been in the place since."
"Sándor!" broke in the girl.
"Yes, Sándor is my name. So they christened me."
"Then you were not there three days ago, when the barmaid gave you the wine mixed with mandragora, which made you so ill?"
"I never was at the Hortobágy inn, nor did I see Miss Klári. It is half a year since I asked for any of her wine!"
"Sándor, you are lying for my sake!" cried the girl.
The judge grew angry.
"Do not try to mislead the authorities with your denials. The girl has already confessed everything—that she made you drink wine poisoned with mandrake roots."
"Why, then, the young woman lied," said the herdsman.
"But what reason could she have for accusing herself of a crime which entails such heavy punishment?"