d led four hardy hounds in a long leash.

"I see the trail of a fox, Martin," said the foremost horseman, calling
the attention of the one behind to the trail. "We can easily track him
through the fresh snow if we look sharp, and can catch him up before we
reach Karpatfalva."

The groom appeared to confirm his master's assertion.

"Follow the trail as straight as you can, and hand over two of the
hounds to me while I make a circuit of the wood yonder."

With that he took over two of the dogs, and sending his escort on in
front, turned aside, slowly wading through the snow. But the moment his
man was out of sight, he suddenly changed his direction, and strode
rapidly towards the pine grove.

On reaching the trench which surrounded it, he dismounted, tied his
horse to a bush and the dogs to his saddle bow and waded across the
narrow ditch. By the light of the snow it was easy to find his goal.

A large white marble monument arose by the side of a green tree, on the
top of it was the sad emblem of death, an angel with an inverted torch.

The horseman stood alone before the monument--this visitor was Rudolf.

Thus both of them had come at the same time, and it was the will of Fate
that they should meet there before the tomb.

Rudolf hastened confidently towards the white colonnaded monument and
stood rooted to the ground with amazement on perceiving the figure of a
man, apparently in a state of collapse, half sitting, half kneeling on
the pedestal. But the man was equally amazed to see him there.

Neither recognized the other.

"What are you doing here, sir?" asked Rudolf, who was the first to
recover his composure, drawing nearer to the pedestal.

Alexander recognized the voice, he knew that it was Rudolf, and could
not understand why he should have come to that place at that hour.

"Count Szentirmay," he said gently, "I am that artisan to whom you
showed a kindness once upon a time; be so good as to show yet another
kindness to me by leaving me here alone and asking no questions."

Then Rudolf recognized the young man, and it suddenly flashed across his
mind that the dead woman before she became Dame Karpathy had been
engaged to a poor young artisan who had so bravely, so chivalrously,
exposed himself to death for her sake.

Now he understood everything.

He took the young man's hand and pressed it.

"You loved this lady? You have come hither to mourn over her?"

"Yes, sir. There's nothing to be ashame