Prince Zilah -- Volume 2

lo, and Marsa sat alone in her chamber, where the white robes she was to wear next da

very life. There was no other alternative. No, no: since she had met this man, superior to all others, since he loved her and she loved him, she would take an hour of his life and pay for that hour

oad. The woman, tall, dark and faded, a sort of turban upon her head, held out her hand toward Marsa's carriage with a graceful gesture and a broad smile-the supplicating smile of those who beg. A muscular young fellow, his crisp hair covered with a red fez, her brother-the woman was old, or perhaps she was less so than she seemed, for poverty brings wrinkles- walked by her side behind the sturdy little ponies. Farther along, another man waited for them at a corner of the road near a laundry, the employees of which regarded him with alarm, because, at the end of a rope, the gipsy held a small gray bear. As she passed by them, Marsa involuntarily exclaimed, in the language of her mother "Be szo

Baroness Dinati, who attributed Michel's illness to a sword wound secretly received for some woman. This was the rumor in Paris. The young Count had,

in the habit of entering unoccupied houses and rifling them of their contents. They had even arrested an old vagabond, and accused him of the attempted robbery at General Vogotzine's; but the old man had answered: "I do not even know the house." But was not this Menko a hundred times more culpable than a thief? It was

r, to fate, for having punished the wretch by letting him live. Then she thought no more of him except to execrate him for hav

not the courage to do so. She had accustomed herself to the idea that a woman is not necessarily condemned to love no more because she has encountered a coward who has abused her love. She was in an

beautif

false, impossible, a lie, a phantasmagoria born of a fever, were Michel Menko, the past years, the kisses o

is breast-the military cross of St. George, with its red and black ribbon; the cross of St. Anne, with its r

it?" sai

ogotz

eing given him, h

as her white robe, with Tizsa's opal agraffe at her side, ready to clasp the bouquet of flowers held by one of her maids, she had nev

ning, General," she said, her

re, the orange-flowers which her mai

aid. "Not t

Mademo

sa. "And for my hair

d General riske

too vulgar, Marsa? By Jove! They d

rom the Tzigana cut short his hilarity; and, with a mechanical movement,

ish dressing, my dear,"

to wear, and he went out in the garden to breathe freer. While waiting t

ther. They will have a fine

ionable colony which inhabited the park and in the village forming the democratic part of the pla

?" demanded Vogotzine o

itants of Maisons who have come

a handsome uniform." And the General swelled out his breast as he used to do in the

ch hid the avenue, there was a sudden sound of th

he General, "

l, he wiped his moustache, and advanced to meet Pr

h, proud and happy, appeared to have hardly passed his thirtieth year; a ray of youth animated his clear eyes. He leaped lightly out upon the gravel, which cracked joyousl

why on earth he had not put on his national Magyar costume

ar Prince! I am in

smiled politely at the General's rema

replied Vogotzine, with a loud

t of all, accompanied by Paul Jacquemin, who took his eternal notes, complimenting both Andras and the General, the latter especially eager to de

uemin, who remained below, had already written down the description in his note-book), the little Barones

re, my dear child! You

as you are! And what g

which are so common, and

You are simpl

in the knowledge of her beauty, since she was about to be his, and yet

ose dreams where one seems to be viewing the life of another

he who was to be married, or that

elow," said the

said

trailing behind her, she descended the stairs, her little feet peeping in and out like two white doves, and appeared at the door of the little salon where Andras was waiting, she felt herself enveloped in an atmosphere of lov

re, my Marsa! And

one, and with a look, which touched

ve. Every one had withdrawn to the garden, to leave them alone in this last, furtive, happy minute, which is never found again,

ing consented, in her youth and beauty, to become the wife of a quasi- exile,

e, in which all the passion of her nature and her race vi

o her." Then, nestling close to Andras, and resting her dark head upon his shoulder, she continued: "We have a proverb, you remember, which says, Life is a t

, but gazing with her beautiful eyes, now moist, into the face of Andras, remained

ceased to exist for these two