To Vàsàrhely his sister-in-law said confidentially:
'Dear Egon, why did you not stay on the pusztas or remain with your hussars? You make le beau Sabran jealous.'
'Jealous!' asked Vàsàrhely, with a bitter smile. 'He has much cause, when she has neither eye nor ear, neither memory nor thought of any kind for any living thing except himself and those children who are all his very portraits! Why do you say these follies, Olga? You know that my cousin Wanda chose her lord out of all the world, and loves him as no one would have supposed she had it in her to love any mortal creature.'
He spoke imperiously, harshly, and she was silenced.
'What do you think of him?' she said with hesitation.
'Everyone asks me that question. I am not his keeper!'
'But you must form some opinion. He is virtual lord of Hohenszalras, and I believe she has made over to him all the appanages of Idrac, and his children will have everything.'
'Are they not her natural heirs? Who should inherit from her if not her sons?'
'Of course, of course they will inherit, only they inherit nothing from him. It was certainly a great stroke of fortune for a landless gentleman to make. Why does the gentilhomme pauvre always so captivate women?'
'What do you mean to insinuate, Olga?' he asked her, with a stern glance of his great black eyes.'