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After the prince had somewhat recovered from the effect produced upon him by Benjamin Vajdar's announcement, he gave himself up to the rapturous thought that now at last he could carry word to Rozina of his wife's death. He sought her presence without delay.
"In case the unpleasant affair which has called me to Rome is settled satisfactorily, I shall make over to you, as the one chiefly instrumental in effecting this settlement, the yearly allowance intended for me by the prince. For myself I retain nothing further, and wish nothing further, than my golden freedom." Vajdar's face glowed with feeling.
Benjamin Vajdar had left his affianced bride soon after seeing Princess Cagliari; he had then entered Cagliari's service as private secretary, and, a little later, divorce proceedings had been begun by the prince against his young wife. "Was it Mr. Vajdar's troubled conscience that made him leave us the moment you appeared?" she asked, after a pause. "No," said Manasseh; "he has no conscience.
"You would gain nothing by so doing," was Vajdar's cool retort. "I could not possibly forego the pleasure of your company, in whatever way you might choose to continue your journey." "What is your purpose in all this?" demanded Blanka. "To make you either as happy as a man can make a woman, or as wretched as only the devil himself can render a human being." "I defy you to do either."
"We signed a contract to-day for supplying our army there with forty thousand cattle," was Vajdar's reply. "Ah, that will make about two hundredweight of beef to a man," returned the other, reckoning on her fingers.
Indeed, we shall ourselves probably be the gainers by this arrangement, as the keeping of our books has become too heavy a burden for my wife, and she will be glad to be relieved. But enough of this at present; to-morrow we will discuss the matter more at length. Meanwhile Mr. Vajdar is welcome to our house." Benjamin Vajdar's emotions can better be imagined than described.
But the mocking smile changed the next instant to a sudden expression of disquiet, if not of actual fear. Manasseh Adorjan stood in the doorway, and Blanka noted a swift interchange of glances between the young men, like the flashing of two drawn swords. "That place is already engaged, sir," said Manasseh, quietly. Benjamin Vajdar's face flushed quickly, and then as suddenly paled.
It was a little portrait in an oval frame, a man's face, highly idealised by the artist, and yet strikingly true to life. Evidently the hand of love had depicted those lineaments. The eyes were bright, the lips wore a proud smile, the whole expression was one to charm the beholder. It was Benjamin Vajdar's likeness, and no ghost could have given Blanka a greater start.