"Will you not marry?" "Never!" "Make no such rash vow. You are but twenty-four years old. You were not born to be a Carthusian monk. The world is full of pretty faces and loving hearts, and even you are sure to find one for yourself." "You know there is none among them for me," returned the young man. "But what if I have already found one?" "Your quest has been in vain, mother." "Say not so," rejoined the other, tenderly drawing her son to her side. "Can you pass judgment without first seeing? She whom I have chosen is good and beautiful, and loves you fondly." "She may be as beautiful as a fairy and as good as an angel, with a heart more full of love than even your own; yet I care not to see her." "Oh, do not speak so rashly; you might repent it. I am sure you will retract your words when you see her face. Come, I will show it to you in the next room." "It will have no effect on me," declared Ödön. The mother led her son to the door and let him open it and enter first. There stood Aranka, trembling with expectant happiness. Hastening to her own room, the baroness drew from her portfolio the memorable document dictated to her by her dying husband, and underscored with a red pencil the lines referring to the event which that day had witnessed. "Thus far it is accomplished," she said to herself. CHAPTER X. THE BETROTHAL. It was no longer a secret, but was in everybody's mouth, that six weeks after the funeral there was to be a betrothal ceremony in the Baradlay house, and the latter was, they said, to receive a new name. Friends and neighbours from the country around had been invited in the baroness's name to a family festival. There was a great bustle of expectation when it was announced that the hero of the day, Benedict Rideghváry, was coming, seated in a brand-new coach which was drawn by five splendid horses. On the box was perched a magnificent hussar, who sprang down to open the carriage door and to help the great man alight with all the dignity demanded by his lofty rank and the importance of the occasion. "My dear sir," one of the administrator's friends hastened to announce to him, with considerable concern in his tone, "I notice a good many strange faces in there." "Very likely, Zebulon," answered the administrator, briefly. "That is, I know the faces well enough," explained the other, "but the people are strangers to me." "I don't understand," returned Rideghváry, with a laugh. "Don't understand?" repeated Zebulon Tallérossy impatiently; "but you will understand as soon as you are pleased to look around. The hall is full of people belonging to the opposition; we know them, but we are not on terms of acquaintance with them."