swear to keep it; but if a traitor from your own number stirs up
dissension between us, then tremble!' Think of those words often. And
now farewell, and God bless you!"

With that she turned her horse about and rode away, breasting the wind,
which blew the snow into her face.

"Where shall we lay the body?" asked Aaron. "The house is full of
guests."

"Here, in our little cabin," said Blanka.

"What, in your bridal chamber?" gasped Aaron. "Oh, Father in heaven!"

But there was no other way. The two brothers bore Jonathan into the
little house, unswathed his cold limbs, and laid him in the bridal bed
until his coffin should be ready for him. So death entered the little
abode and was the first guest.

Blanka sat down on the edge of the bed and gazed at the dead face. The
resemblance between Jonathan and Manasseh was striking. This lifeless
image of her husband suddenly revealed to her all that had hitherto been
so carefully kept from her knowledge. When she met Jonathan in Kolozsvar
she had conceived of the war, to which so many stately cavaliers were
turning their horses' heads, as a kind of splendid tournament. She
remembered now the promise she had made to give the young soldier a kiss
on his return home, and recalled how he had begged her to keep her word
even though he came back dead. And he had come back dead, and now
claimed the fulfilment of her promise. She bent down over him, and as
she did so the illusion that it was Manasseh himself lying lifeless
before her, grew stronger still. She trembled as she touched her lips to
the dead man's marble brow, and with an outburst of sobs and tears she
called aloud, "Manasseh!"

He was at her side in a moment, bending over her and pressing her to his
heart. So he was not dead, after all. She recovered her self-control,
but she murmured in his ear:

"Oh, do not die! Never let me see you lying like that before me!"

Then she gave place to the three brothers, who likewise embraced the
dead man. One by one the other brothers came out of the house of
rejoicing and entered the chamber of mourning. Alexander had summoned
them. The guests, however, found nothing strange in their disappearance,
but merely gave themselves up the more unrestrainedly to the gaiety of
the occasion. That the bride and groom should have vanished so suddenly
was entirely in accord with established usage: the loving pair had, it
was taken for granted, sought the spot where all the delights of
pa