The Yellow Rose Part 18

"Very well, sir. Please don't be angry. I'll bring more directly."

This time she came back with a whole bundle, and set all six in a row before him.

"That is better," said he.

"Shall I draw the cork?"

"Thanks! I can do it myself."

He took the first bottle, broke off the neck against the edge of the table, and poured the foaming beer into the tall gla.s.s beside him. It costs more like this, because the broken bottle has to be paid for; but then, "a gentleman is always the gentleman."

The girl moved off airily, shaking her sides flippantly as she went. Her golden ear-rings tinkled. Her hair was down again, no longer twisted round the comb, and the ribbon ends fluttered coquettishly behind her.

"As thou to me. So I to thee."

The csikos sat quietly drinking his beer, and the girl sang on the verandah:

"Hadst thou known what I know, Or whose sweetheart am I!

Not alone would I weep, Thou wouldst cry."

At the fourth line the door was shut with a bang.

By the time she reappeared again, three empty broken-necked bottles stood on the table. Klari took them, picking up the broken bits of gla.s.s into her ap.r.o.n.

After the third bottle, the lad's humour had changed, and as the girl fussed round him, he suddenly slipped his arm round her waist.

She made no demur on her part.

"Well, may one call you 'Sandor' again?" she asked.

"You always could. What did you want to say?"

"Did you ask anything?"

"Why are your eyes so red?"

"Because I am so happy. I have a suitor."

"Who?"

"The old innkeeper at Vervolgy. He is a widower with lots of money."

"Shall you accept him?"

"Why not, if they take me to him? Let me go!"

"_You lie, lie!_ You cover up your lying, and so lie worse than ever!"

cried the lad.

He removed his hand from the girl's waist.

"Will you drink more?" she asked.

"Why not?"

"But you'll get fuddled from so much beer."

"Much need of it too to quench the fire burning in me. See you give the one in there plenty of strong wine. Heat him up with it, so that we may match each other."

But she took good care not to tell "the one inside" "about the other"

out here.

The csikos took the matter into his own hands. He began to sing, selecting the mocking air with which they are wont to tease the cowherds:

"Oh I am the Petri cowboy bold, I guard the herd on the Petri wold.

My comrades can go Through the mire and snow; I lie on my feather-bed safe from cold."

Well thought! Hardly was the verse at an end before out came his man. In one hand he carried his bottle of red wine, with the tumbler turned over the top, in the other his cudgel. Setting down his wine opposite the csikos, he next laid his cudgel beside the other one, and then took his seat at the table exactly facing the other lad.

They neither shook hands nor spoke a word of greeting. Each gave a silent nod, like two between whom speech is unnecessary.

"So you are back from your journey, comrade?" asked the csikos.

"I'll be off again directly if I have the mind."

"To Moravia?"

"Yes, if I don't change my plans."

They both drank. After a pause the csikos began again.

"Are you taking a wife with you this time?"

"Where should I get a wife?"

"I'll tell you. ---- take your own mother!"

"She wouldn't give up being a Debreczin market-woman for the whole of Moravia!"

They both drank again.

"Well, have you bidden your mother farewell?" asked the csikos.

"I have bidden her farewell."

"And squared all your accounts with the overseer?"

"Certainly."