THE BLACK JEWELRY It was during this time that Henrietta cherished the bizarre illusion that it was her vocation to cultivate the acquaintance of the honest but homely peasantry living around, in whose lowly circles a widowed protestant pastor's wife and a worn-out old miner were the principal personages.

Her husband laughed good-humouredly at her vagaries, as he called them: "She is only a child," he cried, "let her play and cut out dolls' clothes for those who want them! When she has grown up, she will very soon look out for other diversions." "My dear child," he would sometimes say to her, "do exactly as you like.

I only beg of you one thing: whenever you are tired of these innocent, well-meaning illusions and return to rough, prosaic, brutal reality; whenever you feel yourself deceived or wounded by those whom you may have implicitly trusted, pray recollect that you have a natural protector, a real friend--your husband!" Thus it was that Hatszegi spoke to his child-wife on the rare occasions when they met together.
It was only rarely, for they saw nothing of each other for the greater part of the day.

During the so-called honey-moon the husband and wife had scarcely spent half an hour a day in each other's company.
On one occasion the pastor went to Deva, and when he returned he had a lot to tell her ladyship of a fine young fellow, Szilard by name, who held the office of magistrate at Lippa.

His other name he had forgotten, but Henrietta easily guessed it.