tood before the door, and on one of
them sat Zenobia. Blanka ran to her and took her hand.

"Have you come at last?" she exclaimed. "Oh, how long we've been looking
for you! Let me help you down."

Zenobia, however, sat silent and made no move to dismount.

"Where is Jonathan?" asked Blanka.

"There he is." Zenobia pointed to the other horse, on whose back was
bound a swathed form--a corpse.

"Jonathan!" cried Blanka, wildly.

"Your brother killed my father," Zenobia continued in a monotone, "and
my brothers killed your brother; and so it will go on now for nobody
knows how long."

Blanka was stricken speechless with horror, but Anna, who followed her,
broke out in lamentations, until a strong hand was laid on her from
behind and Aaron's voice was heard saying:

"Don't cry, don't make a noise! If the people inside hear you, they'll
come out and tear Ciprianu's daughter to pieces; and she is now our
guest."

Anna buried her face in Blanka's bosom.

"Alexander," said Aaron, softly, turning to his brother, "go in and tell
the gipsy band to play a lively reel. The company must be kept amused."

Meanwhile Manasseh had appeared.

"Manasseh," whispered Aaron, "come and help me lift our brother down
from the horse."

These words were to Manasseh like a dagger-thrust in his heart. His
knees trembled under him. But presently he manned himself and hastened
to untie the ropes that held the inanimate form on the horse's back.

Zenobia meanwhile went on talking in a low tone to Blanka. "In the
skirmish at Felvincz, the Hungarians had one man killed, and he was the
man. His horse carried him until I found him. You invited us to your
wedding, and here we are. Now you may, if you wish, take me in and say
to your guests, 'This is the daughter of that Ciprianu whose sons laid
waste Sasd and Felvincz and killed Jonathan Adorjan.'"

"Away, away!" stammered Blanka, waving her hand. She was terrified at
the thought of Zenobia's being found there by the people of Toroczko,
and perhaps suffering violence at their hands.

"Go in peace," said Aaron. "My people will not pursue you. Let bygones
be bygones between us. We owe each other nothing now."

"I owe you nothing, Aaron, but I owe something to your sister and your
sister-in-law for the very kind invitation they sent me; and that is a
debt which I will yet repay. To you, Manasseh, I have to say, remember
those parting words on Monastery Heights: 'We make peace with you and