She has to shut her door in the faces of her poor petitioners, for her husband will not allow any unnecessary expense.
Nay, more, they say that Hatszegi now keeps his wife's private jewels under lock and key to prevent her from pawning them and relieving the needs of the poor with the proceeds, as she was wont to do, and only brings them out on state occasions when he compels her to pile them all on her person.

Isn't that a humiliation for a woman ?" "If only you had become mine," Szilard mentally apostrophized poor Henrietta, "you would now have had a cosey little chimney-corner, and a nice little room all to yourself; and though I could not have bought you jewels, the best of every morsel of food we shared together would always have been yours." "And," pursued the countess, "most degrading experience of all, Hatszegi no longer attempts to conceal from his wife his outrageous _liaisons_ with pretty peasant women.

The thing has long been a byeword, though his wife knew nothing of it--but she knows it now.

Nor is this all, my dear Vamhidy.

Poor Henrietta's heart is suffering from another sorrow which she feels all the more keenly because it smarts unceasingly.