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He raised his round, uneasy eyes to Andras, who was striving to appear calm, but whose lips twitched nervously. "It is impossible to rouse her," continued Vogotzine. "The, doctors can do nothing. There is no hope except in an an an experiment." "An experiment?" "Yes, exactly, exactly an experiment. "The doctor," said Andras, calmly, "would like your niece to see me again?"
The Prince believed Vogotzine to be less old and more acquainted with Parisian life than he really was, and it was a consolation to the father to feel that his daughter would have a guardian. Tisza did not long survive the Prince.
The brave old soldier had never understood much of the fantastic caprices of passion, and Andras seemed to him in this, as in all other things, just a little romantic. But, after all, the Prince was his own master, and whatever a Zilah did was well done. So, after reflection, Zilah's marriage became a joy to Varhely, as he had just been declaring to the fiancee's uncle, General Vogotzine.
In seven months her face, although still beautiful, had become emaciated, and had a transparent look. The little hand, white as snow, which she gave to Varhely, burned him; the skin was dry and hot. "Well, my dear Count," said Marsa, as she lay extended in a reclining-chair, "what news of General Vogotzine?" "The General is well. He hopes to return to Russia.
Vogotzine, his face crimson, stood by the chair, his little, round eyes blinking with emotion at each of these mournful, musical responses. "What is your name?" asked the doctor, slowly. She raised her dark, sad eyes, and seemed to be seeking what to reply; then, wearily letting her head fall backward, she answered, as before: "I do not know!"
It was in vain that sorrow had early made her a woman; Marsa remained ignorant of the world, without any other guide than Vogotzine; suffering and languid, she was fatally at the mercy of the first lie which should caress her ear and stir her heart.
He found Marsa charming. Pale as her white robe, with Tizsa's opal agraffe at her side, ready to clasp the bouquet of flowers held by one of her maids, she had never been so exquisitely beautiful; and Vogotzine, who was rather a poor hand at turning a compliment, compared her to a marble statue. "How gallant you are this morning, General," she said, her heart bursting with emotion.
"Then you consent? You will go?" He tried to utter some word of thanks, but Andras cut him short, saying: "I will order the carriage." "I have a carriage," said Vogotzine, joyously. "We can go at once." Zilah was silent during the drive; and Vogotzine gazed steadily out of the window, without saying a word, as the Prince showed no desire to converse.
It was on Andras's lips to refuse to see him; but, in reality, the General's visit caused him a delight which he would not acknowledge to himself. He was about to hear of hey. He told the valet to admit Vogotzine, hypocritically saying to himself that it was impossible, discourteous, not to receive him.
Old General Vogotzine was, in fact, the only living relative of Prince Tchereteff. In consideration of a yearly income, the Prince charged him to watch over Marsa, and see to her establishment in life. Rich as she was, Marsa would have no lack of suitors; but Tisza, the half-civilized Tzigana, was not the one to guide and protect a young girl in Paris.
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