United States or Venezuela ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
I am here, above all, to demand satisfaction for your atrocious action in having taken me as the instrument of your villainy." "I regret it deeply and sincerely," replied Menko; "and I am at your orders." The tone of this response admitted of no reply, and Yanski and Valla took their departure.
"Pardon before punishing the other!" exclaimed the Prince, angrily. The other! Yanski Varhely instinctively clinched his fist, thinking, with rage, of that package of letters which he had held in his hands, and which he might have destroyed if he had known. It was true: how was pardon possible while Menko lived?
"No, no," responded Fargeas; "we have only killed her stupor. Now leave her to us. Am I not right, my dear Sims? She can and must be cured!" Prince Andras had heard no news of Varhely for a long time. He only knew that the Count was in Vienna. Yanski had told the truth when he said that he had been summoned away by his friend, Angelo Valla.
The ideal of the Tzigana, as it is of most women, was loyalty united with strength. Had she ever, in her wildest flights of fancy, dreamed that she should hear one of the heroes of the war of independence, a Zilah Andras, supplicate her to bear his name? Marsa knew Yanski Varhely. The Prince had brought him to see her at Maisons-Lafitte.
If Count Josef Ladany rescued Menko from the police of the Czar, and, by setting him free, delivered him to him, Varhely, all was well. By entering the ministry, Ladany would thus be at least useful for something. The negotiations with Warsaw, however, detained Yanski Varhely at Vienna longer than he wished.
"What does the doctor say?" replied Yanski. "Does he hope to save her?" Zilah made no response. Varhely's question was the most terrible of answers. Ensconced in an armchair, the Prince then laid bare his heart to old Varhely, sitting near him. She was about to die, then! Solitude! Was that to be the end of his life?
A poor old blind man, cowering upon the steps of the sanctuary, was murmuring a monotonous prayer, like the plaint of a night bird. Yanski Varhely regarded the scene with curiosity, as he waited for the end of the ceremony.
"What remains to you if she dies?" said old Yanski, slowly. "There remains to you what you had at twenty years, that which never dies. There remains to you what was the love and the passion of all the Zilah princes who lie yonder, and who experienced the same suffering, the same torture, the same despair, as you. There remains to you our first love, my dear Andras, the fatherland!"
If Count Josef Ladany rescued Menko from the police of the Czar, and, by setting him free, delivered him to him, Varhely, all was well. By entering the ministry, Ladany would thus be at least useful for something. The negotiations with Warsaw, however, detained Yanski Varhely at Vienna longer than he wished.
She was aware that Count Varhely knew the Prince's most secret thoughts, and she was certain that Andras had confided all his hopes and his fears to his old friend. "What do you think would become of the Prince if I should not marry him?" she asked him one day without warning. "That is a point-blank question which I hardly expected," said Yanski, gazing at her in astonishment.
Word Of The Day