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Updated: June 25, 2025
He felt an increased rage against the invisible Michel Menko, who had disappeared after his infamy; and it seemed to him that this Puck, this unknown journalist, was an accomplice or a friend of Michel Menko, and that, behind the pseudonym of the writer, he perceived the handsome face, twisted moustache and haughty smile of the young Count.
A word more exchanged with the valet, and Andras would have felt humiliated himself. But he had gained from the conversation the idea that Menko had not wished to insult him in his happiness, but to reveal all to him before the ceremony had yet been celebrated. It was as atrocious, but not so cowardly.
"Yes," said Menko, rapidly, "she often spoke of you, my dear Varhely. They taught her to love you, too. But," evidently seeking to turn the conversation to avoid a subject which was painful to him, "you spoke of Georgei. Ah! our generation has never known your brave hopes; and your grief, believe me, was better than our boredom. We are useless encumberers of the earth.
Marsa, her heart full of a melancholy which the twilight increased, repeated over and over again, with shudders of rage and disgust, those three words which Michel Menko had hurled at her like a threat: "I demand it!"
Menko was arrested by the Russian police on his arrival at the house of a certain Labanoff, or Ladanoff almost my name in Russian. This Labanoff, who had lately arrived from Paris, is suspected of a plot against the Czar. He is not a nihilist, but simply a malcontent; and, besides that, his brain is not altogether right.
"After all," he said to himself, "we shall soon find out. Monsieur Puck must be less difficult to unearth than Michel Menko." He rang for his valet, and was about to go out, when Yanski Varhely was announced. The old Hungarian looked troubled, and his brows were contracted in a frown.
No, for him! She was not vile enough to have lied, when she asked, implored, besought death from Zilah who held her life or death in his hands. "Yes, I had the right to kill her, but I have the right to pardon also," thought Zilah. Ah, if Menko were dead!
There were days when Menko did not value his life at a penny, and when he asked himself seriously if suicide were not the simplest means to reach the end; and again, at the least ray of sunshine, he became sanguine and hopeful to excess.
Menko, with his twisted moustache, his pretty smile and his delicate profile, was there, behind that door. A red streak of light from the salon where Marsa was showed beneath the door, which the Prince longed to burst open with his foot. With anger and bitterness filling his heart, he felt capable of entering there, and striking savagely, madly, at his rival.
And, I repeat, I have come to you to demand his release. Damn it! Such a demand is neither a threat nor a cases belli." The minister calmed the old hussar with a gesture. "No," he replied, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth; "but it is embarrassing, embarrassing! Confound Menko! He always was a feather-brain! The idea of his leaving diplomacy to seek adventures!
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