By this time the administrator and those at his side were fairly dumb with astonishment. If Tormándy was spokesman for the bridegroom, what part was Paul Gálfalvy supposed to play? And who was to reply for the bride? The superintendent was expected to discharge that function, but he was nowhere to be seen. The confusion became still worse confounded when the Reverend Bartholomew Lánghy stepped forward in response to Tormándy's address, and in clear tones thus made answer: "Those ordained of heaven for each other let naught but death put asunder. Let them who are already one in love be joined together in holy matrimony." "The parson is crazy!" exclaimed Zebulon in utter bewilderment. But the solution of the enigma was not long delayed. The double doors at the farther end of the hall were thrown open and the procession of ladies entered, led by the widow Baradlay, who presented Aranka Lánghy to the assembled company as the bride. It was a beautiful sight,--the elder lady in a trailing black gown, a garnet diadem in her hair, and a long-unwonted smile lighting up her face and giving her the aspect of a beautiful queen; and the fair young bride at her side, in robe of white with white hyacinths for her ornaments and a modest blush adding its charm to her sweet maidenly dignity. Each type of beauty, so entirely opposite in character, was perfect in its kind. There was a murmur of surprise and admiration among the guests, and all pressed forward in eager expectancy. A marble table with a gold plate on it stood near the folding doors. Over the plate was spread a lace napkin. The bridal party took their places at this table, and the priest, Aranka's father, removed the napkin from the plate, revealing two simple gold rings. One of these he then put on Ödön's finger, and the other on Aranka's. Finally he placed the bride's hand in the groom's. No word was spoken, there was nothing but this simple ceremony; but it was impressive in the extreme. The whole company broke into cheers, and even Zebulon Tallérossy caught himself shouting to the full capacity of his lungs; he only recognised his mistake upon meeting the glance of the administrator, who looked at him with severe disapproval, whereupon the other endeavoured to atone for his misplaced enthusiasm by acting on a brilliant suggestion that suddenly occurred to him. "So there is to be a double betrothal," he remarked, blandly, to the would-be bridegroom; but the latter only turned his back upon him with a muttered imprecation. Administrator Rideghváry was the first to take his departure; but before he went he had a final interview with the woman whom he had hoped to claim as his bride that day.