"The top boots which Banda Bela bought for me at the fair at Harom Szölöhoz. They were bought with the florin you gave to Banda Bela for his playing. They were so nice!" She dimpled prettily. "I am glad they gave you pleasure. Come, we will go in and hear Banda Bela play," said the Count, holding out his hand. Marushka slipped her hand into his and he led her into the house, entering by the large hall, on the walls of which hung deer horns and wolf heads, while a huge stuffed wolf stood at one end, holding a lamp in his paws. The Count was a great sportsman and had shot many of these animals himself in the forests of the Transylvania. Banda Bela tuned his violin and then began to play. It seemed to Marushka as if she had never before heard him play so beautifully. Many things he played, all soft and dreamy, with a gentle, haunting sadness through them, until at last he struck into a peculiar melody, a sort of double harmony of joy and sorrow, which he had never played before. "What is that, Banda Bela?" demanded the Baroness. "Who wrote it, what are the words?" "If you please, Your Graciousness"--the boy flushed, "it is but a Gypsy song of sorrow. The words are but in my own heart." "Strange boy," she thought, but at that moment the door opened and a lady hastily entered the room. She was tall and very beautiful, with great masses of corn-coloured hair and deep blue eyes, but her face had a look of terrible sadness. "Arpád!" she exclaimed. "What is this music? It makes me weep for my lost one and I am nearly blind with weeping now." Her eyes, seeking her husband's, fell upon Marushka, who during the music had been leaning against the Count, his arm around her. The Countess' eyes travelled up and down the little figure, then sought her husband's face with a sort of eager, frightened questioning. "Arpád!" she cried. "Arpád! Who is this child?" "Maria, my dearest! I have brought her here that you may tell me who she is," he said, trying to speak calmly. She drew the little girl toward her and Marushka went willingly and stood looking into the sweet face of the Countess. "Such a likeness," whispered the Baroness. "They are as like as two sisters." Then, all in a moment, the Countess gathered Marushka into her arms and covered the child's face with kisses. "You are mine," she cried, tears streaming down her face. "Mine! Arpád! I know it is our little daughter come back to us after all these years. My heart tells me it is she!" Marushka looked frightened for a moment, then she clung around her mother's neck, and the Baroness quietly drew Banda Bela from the room. From the hall the sound of the Gypsy boy's violin came as he played, with all his soul in his touch, the song of his father: "The hills are so blue, The sun so warm, The wind of the moor so soft and so kind! Oh, the eyes of my mother, The warmth of her breast, The breath of her kiss on my cheek, alas!" THE END FOOTNOTE: [14] "Come to me."