Whatever the purpose of the seemingly capricious wanderings of the young man, as he thrust obstinately and somewhat rudely through the crowds which opposed his progress, he was not to be diverted from it by the objurgations of some of those whom he thus elbowed on his passage, or the commendatory remarks of others, who noticed his good mien. His eye roved perpetually to every window at which a female form appeared; and, upon the approach of each coach that passed, he pushed boldly forward, to obtain as near a view as possible of its fair inmates. But he evidently sought some one particular form, which he found not in his unwearying scrutiny; for, as often as some fresh female face had been narrowly examined, followed sometimes with a moment's doubt, and then abandoned, he gently shook his head, with knitted brow, and an expression of disappointment, and, falling back, uttered an impatient sigh.
At a short distance from the youth followed a tall old man, in the hussar dress of an Hungarian domestic, who, in turn, pushed sturdily after him, never losing him entirely from his sight, and utterly heedless of the exclamations of those thrust aside, who, however they might spare their angry comments to the handsome young noble, bestowed them with double wrath upon his rude attendant. The look of the old man was one of discontent, as he thus pursued the capricious movements of the youth; and he gave vent to a continued string of muttered rough Hungarian oaths, whilst he pushed on, and muttered such phrases as, "he is distraught—he is utterly distraught with this silly boyish fancy!"
At length, as the dusk of approaching evening began slowly to fall upon the streets, as the crowd gradually lessened, as no more carriages rumbled heavily along the causeway, and as no more faces appeared at the windows, the young man paused in his hurried walk, uttered a still deeper sigh of disappointment, and leaning himself wearily against a doorway, sank his head downwards, and seemed lost in painful meditation.
His old attendant approached him, and after a time, seeing that his presence was unnoticed, and that the gloomy reverie of the young man continued, he addressed him in a tone in which rude familiarity and respect were strangely combined—
"Is my lord's young blood so hot, then, that he seeks to cool it by taking up his night-quarters under this airy gateway?" But seeing that the young man heeded him not, he muttered an inpatient "Teremtette!" between his teeth, and then, plucking at his master's dress, he continued—
"Have you no orders to give me, Master Otmar?"
"None, Farkas. No, leave me!" was the only reply vouchsafed.
"Look you, Master Otmar," pursued his attendant—"You are observed here—you are an object of attention, perhaps of mockery, to the passers-by."
"What mean you, Farkas?" cried the young man, in a tone of displeasure.
"Nay! if my lord is angry, I have no more to say," replied Farkas, drawing back.