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Updated: April 30, 2025
Andras knew what a powerful superstition is attached by the people of Hungary to these deep lakes of Tatra, the "eyes of the sea," where, say the old legends, the most beautiful carbuncle in the world lies hidden, a carbuncle which would sparkle like the sun, if it could be discovered, and which is guarded by frogs with diamond eyes and with lumps of pure gold for feet.
When they had finished, the wintry night-wind bearing away the last notes of their war-song, the pistols of the hussars and the guns of the honveds discharged a salute over the grave. The earth and snow were shovelled in upon the body of Sandor Zilah, and Prince Andras drew away, after marking with a cross the place where his father reposed.
"What is it?" he cried; for Marsa's fingers were icy. It cost the young girl a terrible effort to prevent herself from losing consciousness. "But speak to me, Marsa," exclaimed Andras, "do not keep me in suspense."
The boat advanced very slowly, as if Prince Andras had given the order to delay as much as possible the arrival at Maisons-Lafitte, where the whole fete would end for him, as Marsa was to land there. Already, upon the horizon could be perceived the old mill, with its broad, slated roof.
I don't know anything!" "Ah! she is expecting him!" cried Andras. "When?" "I don't know!" "You told me it was to be this evening. This evening, is it not?" The old General felt as ill at ease as if he had been before a military commission or in the hands of Froloff. "Yes, this evening." "At Maisons-Lafitte?" "At Maisons," responded Vogotzine, mechanically. "And all this wearies me wearies me.
"Because Prince Zilah Sandor was valiant among the valiant," she replied, in answer to his question, "and he died because he would not wear the talisman which I offered him." Andras looked at the girl. "What talisman?" "Some pebbles from the lakes of Tatra, sewn up in a little leather bag."
And she, shuddering at the tones of his voice, not daring to say no, and to bid him an eternal farewell, let him depart, confident, hopeful, despite the silence to which she obstinately, desperately clung. Then, when Andras was gone, at the end of her strength, she threw herself, like a mad woman, down upon the divan.
The Tzigana made no reply; but, going to Andras Zilah, she took his arm; while Michel, as if nothing had happened, raised his hat. General Vogotzine, with flaming face, followed his niece, muttering, as he wiped the perspiration unsteadily from his face: "Fine day! Fine day! By Jove! But the sun was hot, though! Ah, and the wines were good!"
Aren't you going to thank me? Ah! you ingrate!" She ran and embraced Marsa, pressing her cherry lips to the Tzigana's pale face, and then rapidly disappeared in a mock flight, with a gay little laugh and a tremendous rustle of petticoats. Of all his friends, Varhely was the one of whom Andras was fondest; but they had not been able to exchange a single word since the morning.
Accompanying the Prince were Yanski Varhely, and an Italian friend of Zilah's, Angelo Valla, a former minister of the Republic of Venice, in the time of Manin. Andras Zilah, proud and happy, appeared to have hardly passed his thirtieth year; a ray of youth animated his clear eyes.
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