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Updated: June 17, 2025


"I shall not require you you may remain at home," said Imre, as, taking the bridle of one of the horses, vaulting lightly into the saddle, he pressed his csako over his brow and galloped from the castle. As he rode under the cross, he checked his horse and looked back. Was it of his grandmother's words, or of the golden-haired Jolanka that he thought? A white handkerchief waved from the window.

"Because he will seek you." "Did he then speak before you?" "As he lay wounded on that couch, he pronounced your name in his dreams. Are you not that Jolanka Bardy whom they call 'The Angel'? I knew you by your golden locks." The young girl cast down her eyes. "Then you think he will come?" she said in a low voice. And my relations?"

"My husband was just such a handsome youth when I lost him," sighed the widow lady as she embraced her nephew. "God bless you!" The little cripple threw his arms around his cousin's knees and, sobbing, entreated him not to stay long away. The last who bade farewell was Jolanka.

"Because he will seek you." "Did he then speak before you?" "As he lay wounded on that couch, he pronounced your name in his dreams. Are you not that Jolanka Bardy whom they call 'The Angel'? I knew you by your golden locks." The young girl cast down her eyes. "Then you think he will come?" she said in a low voice. "And my relations?"

"Jolanka!" exclaimed the stranger passionately. She started at the well-known voice, and, uttering a cry of joy, rushed to the window. "Oh, Imre!" she murmured, "are you come at last!" "Can I not enter? can I not speak with you?" The young girl hastened to unbar the door, which was locked on the inside, and as Imre entered she threw herself into his arms, while he pressed her fondly to his heart.

The large and lustrous deep-blue eyes were shaded by long dark lashes, and her complexion was pale as the lily, excepting when she smiled or spoke, and a slight flush like the dawn of morning overspread her cheeks. Jolanka was the orphan child of a distant relative, whom the Bardys had adopted.

They were those of Imre and Jolanka, but his features did not betray the slightest emotion. "You will know them probably," continued Lupey. "The young magnate, who escaped us at the pass, came for the girl in your absence, and at the same time stole your money, and, what is more, we found your pazsura upon him also." "Who killed them?" asked the Decurio, in his usual calm voice.

Jolanka felt that Imre was more than a brother to her, and the feeling with which she had learnt to return his affection was warmer than even a sister's love. The widow lady and the cripple were also in the grandmother's apartment; the child sat on a stool at the old lady's feet, and smiled sadly as the young man entered. "Why that sword at your side, Imre?" asked the old lady in a feeble voice.

The large and lustrous deep-blue eyes were shaded by long dark lashes, and her complexion was pale as the lily, excepting when she smiled or spoke, and a slight flush like the dawn of morning overspread her cheeks. Jolanka was the orphan child of a distant relative, whom the Bardys had adopted.

"Take his hand," said Jolanka, in her low, sweet accents; and then turning to Imre, "He saved your life he saved us both, and he will rescue our family, too." Imre looked at her in astonishment. The Decurio seized his arms and drew him aside.

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