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Updated: May 25, 2025
It was many months since these two men had met; but they had been long bound together by a powerful sympathy, born of quiet talks and confidences, in which each had told the other of similar sufferings. A long deferred secret hope troubled Labanoff as the memory of Marsa devoured Menko; and they had many times exchanged dismal theories upon the world, life, men, and laws.
What did it mean? Who had sent that despatch? Why had it caused Marsa such emotion? "In two days I shall know, at last, whether I am to live!" Who could make her utter such a cry? Who, if not Michel Menko, was so intimately connected with her life as to trouble her so, to drive her insane, as Vogotzine said? "It is Menko, is it not? it is Menko?" repeated Andras again.
She regretted having allowed Andras to depart without having told him on the spot, the secret of her life. She would not see him again until the next day, and she felt as if she could never live through the long, dull hours. She stood at the window, wrapped in thought, gazing mechanically before her, and still hearing the voice of Michel Menko hissing like a snake in her ear.
Do not read, do not read!" Andras, who had turned very pale, gently removed her grasp from the package, and said, very slowly and gravely, but with a tenderness in which hope still appeared: "Come, Marsa, let us see; what do you wish me to think? Why do you wish me not to read these letters? for letters they doubtless are. What have letters sent me by Count Menko to do with you?
And there was in this cry, in this "You!" ejaculated with a rapid movement of recoil-amazement, fright, scorn, and anger. "You!" she said again. And Michel Menko felt in this word a mass of bitter rancor and stifled hatred which suddenly burst its bonds. "Yes, me!" he said, braving the insult of Marsa's cry and look. "Me, who love you, and whom you have loved!"
The day after he had sent this letter to Maisons-Lafitte, Varhely received from Ladany a message to come at once to the ministry. On his arrival there, Count Josef handed him a despatch. The Russian minister of foreign affairs telegraphed to his colleague at Vienna, that his Majesty the Czar consented to the release of Count Menko, implicated in the Labanoff affair.
In spite of her sorrow and anguish, her beauty blossomed in the shade, and she seemed each day to grow more lovely, while her heart became more sad, and her despair more poignant. Then death, which would not take Marsa, came to another, and gave Menko an opportunity to repair and efface all. He learned that his wife had died suddenly at Prague, of a malady of the heart.
But I did not wish my vengeance to arrive too late, when what I had assumed the right to prevent had become irreparable." "I do not understand exactly," said Varhely. Menko glanced at Valla as if to ask whether he could speak openly before the Italian. "Monsieur Angelo Valla was one of the witnesses of the marriage of Prince Andras Zilah," said Yanski.
"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?
Andras beckoned Varhely to come to Marsa, who was white as marble, and said softly, with a hand on the shoulder of each of the two friends, who represented to him his whole life Varhely, the past; Michel Menko, his recovered youth and the future. "If it were not for that stupid superstition which forbids one to proclaim his happiness, I should tell you how happy I am, very happy.
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