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"Then I shall only have to wait another week?" enquired Anicza, winding the locks of Fatia Negra round her fingers. "For what?" asked the adventurer. "Nay, but surely you know?" "Aha! of course!" said he smiling. "You mean you will only have to wait another week for me to cease to be your husband under a mask and become your real, true husband, eh? That is the end of all your thoughts, eh?"
It is not well that two such dangerous objects should repose on my heart. Look! I give them both to you." "Wherefore, Anicza?" "Take the things, I say, and keep them, for my guardian angel knows, I have told him, that with me they are not in a safe place. You do not know me yet."
But there was venom at the bottom of her heart, and she nourished it there. In a fortnight's time Fatia Negra visited her again. There was now nothing the matter with him, all traces of the life and death struggle had disappeared. Anicza was more affectionate towards him than ever.
"It is well, Domnule," said the watchman, "but let her at least take the oath which everyone here must swear." "I am ready," cried the girl boldly. "No, Anicza," replied Black Mask, "you shall swear to me a stronger oath even than that, you shall swear by our eternal love."
When Anicza entered her room she found hanging up beneath the ikon that gleamed and shone over her bed both the damaged ducat and the little cross which she had given to Fatia Negra two hours before. He must indeed be in league with the devil else how could he have got there, invisibly, so long before them?
Their awe of the mysterious and the unintelligible had made his comrades his slaves; he need have no more scruples concerning them. "Give me your right hand, Anicza," said he, "and give your other hand to your next neighbour, and let everyone take the hand of the person next to him."
And now there is a lot of false witnesses ready to swear that my father was the ring-leader and throw all the blame upon him, but it was Fatia Negra and nobody else as God knows." Every time the peasant woman mentioned Fatia Negra's name a spasmodic twitch convulsed Henrietta's pale features. "Gracious lady," continued Anicza, "I implore you by the tender mercies of God not to abandon me.
But Anicza was a Wallachian girl and Wallachian girls are jealous, revengeful and artful. That Saturday had arrived. Seven hundred torches lit up the Lucsia Grotto.
Wound ten times round her neck she wore a necklace of gold coins extending down to her bosom. On each side of her holsters peeped forth a double-barrelled pistol with an ivory handle. When the old man stopped to water his horse at the spring gushing forth from the black slate rock, he said to the girl: "Anicza, when did you speak last with Fatia Negra?" "Just a month ago.
Onucz approached him obsequiously and kissed the hand of his mysterious leader with profound respect, whilst Anicza approached him with roguish archness, adroitly feigning a superstitious fear of her magician of a sweetheart. "I am not afraid of you, Fatia Negra! though you come and go unseen. I fear you come not in God's name." "That is true. We are nearer methinks to the Kingdom of the Devil."
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