ied out with pain as he fell, then raised himself on one
elbow and met Manasseh's gaze.

"Kill me and be done with it," he muttered, in sullen despair.

But Manasseh remained standing with folded arms before him. "No,
Benjamin Vajdar," said he, "you shall not die by my hand. He who kills
Cain is seven times cursed. My promise to an angel whom you would have
destroyed is your safeguard. I shall neither kill you myself nor let any
one else lay hands on you. You are to live many days yet and continue
in the way you have begun, obeying the sinful impulses of your wicked
nature, and doing evil to those that have done nothing but good to you.
You weigh upon our house like a curse, but it is God's will thus to
prove and try our hearts. Fulfil your destiny, plot your wicked scheme's
against us, and then at last, broken, humbled, scorned of all the world
beside, come back to us and sue for pity at the door of those to whom
you have shown no pity. God's will be done!"

Manasseh allowed himself to use no reproach, no word of withering scorn,
in thus addressing his enemy. He even spoke in German, to spare the
fallen man's shame in the gipsy's presence. He had the horse in
readiness for its master, and bade the fiddler help him lift the injured
rider into the saddle and tie him there with ropes to ensure him against
a second fall, especially as one foot was now unfit for the stirrup.

"Aha!" cried the little gipsy, "a good idea! We'll take him alive and
show him off in Toroczko."

The fires in the village made the spirited horse restive and hard to
manage. Manasseh took him by the bridle and led him out of the church,
the gipsy following at the animal's heels.

"Turn to the right and begone!" whispered Manasseh to the rider, and he
caused the horse to make a sudden spring to one side.

"Oh, he's got away!" cried the gipsy, in great chagrin. "Why didn't you
let me take the bridle? Catch me bringing you another thousand-florin
prize, to be thrown away like that!"

"Never mind, my lad. From this day on you shall find a full trencher
always ready for you at our house. But now let us start for home."

* * * * *

Six weeks later Benjamin Vajdar made his reappearance in Vienna, the net
result of his expedition to Transylvania being, first, a heavy draft on
the bank-account of his chief, and, second, a limping gait for himself,
which proved a sad affliction to him on the dancing-floor.

CHAPT