Timar had to answer this address of welcome. He stammered and talked great nonsense. He had to control himself that he might not laugh aloud, and say to the worthy preacher, "Ha, ha! do not fancy that I had this idea in order to make your fortune; it was only to get a young rascal out of reach of a certain pretty girl, and if any good came of it, it is only by means of this woman here near me. Laugh then, good people!"
At table good-humor reigned. The dean and the steward were neither of them despisers of the bottle. The wit and anecdotes of the two old men made Timar laugh too; but whenever he cast a glance on Timéa's icy face, the laugh died on his lips. She had left her merriment elsewhere in pledge.
It was evening before they rose. The two old gentlemen reminded each other jocosely that it was quite time to leave, for the husband had returned to his young wife after a long absence, and they would have much to say to each other.
"Indeed you will do wisely to go soon," whispered Athalie to Timar. "Timéa has such dreadful headaches every evening, that she can not sleep before midnight. See how pale she is!"
"Timéa, you are unwell?" asked Timar, tenderly.
"There is nothing the matter with me," answered she.
"Don't believe her; ever since we came to Levetinczy she has suffered from headache. It is neuralgia, which she contracted by overtaxing her brain, and by the bad air here. I found a white hair in her head the other day. But she conceals her suffering till she breaks down, and even then she never complains."
Timar experienced in spirit the tortures of a criminal stretched on the rack. And he had not the courage to say to his wife, "If you are suffering, let me sleep in your room and take care of you." No; he was afraid of uttering Noémi's name in his sleep, and that his wife might hear it, as she was kept awake by pain half the night. He must shun his marriage-bed.
The next day they started for Komorn, and traveled by post, Michael sitting opposite the two ladies. It was a tedious journey: in the whole Banat the harvest was over; only the maize was still standing, otherwise they saw nothing but monotonous fields of stubble. None of them spoke; all three found it hard to keep awake. In the afternoon Timar could no longer endure the silent looks, the enigmatical expression of his wife; under pretense of wanting to smoke he took a seat by the driver in the open coupé, and remained there. When they got out at a post-house, Athalie grumbled at the bad roads, the dreadful heat, the annoying flies, the stifling dust, and all the rest of a traveler's trials. The inns are dirty, the food disgusting, the beds hard, the wine sour, the water impure, and the countenances of all the people frightful. She feels so ill all through the journey, she is quite knocked up, she has fever, and her head will burst: what must Timéa be suffering, who is so nervous?
Timar had to listen to these lamentations all the way, but Timéa never uttered a complaint.