In this position, with this face, under this
name,--was he not born again? Was that not a quite different man whose
life he was now leading? Had he not already ended that life which he had
played away _then_?

He would be a fool who carried his feeling of honor to such extremes in
relations with dishonorable men; and, finally, if there were the man who
would say "it is a crime," was there no God to say "it was virtue?"

He found a strong fortress for this self-defence in the walls of their
family vault, in the interior of which his grandmother had uttered such
an awful curse against the last inhabitant. Why, that implied an
obligation upon him too. And this obligation was also strong. Two
opposing obligations neutralize each other. It was his duty rather to
fulfil that which he owed to a parent, than that which he owed to his
murderer.

These are all fine sophisms. Lorand sought in them the means of escape.

And then in those beautiful eyes. Could he, on whom those two stars
smiled, die? Could he wish for annihilation, at the very gate of Heaven?

And he found no small joy in the thought that he was to take that Heaven
away from the opponent, who would love to bury him down in the cold
earth.

Lorand began to yield himself to his fate. He desired to live. He began
to suspect that there was some happiness in the world. Calm, secret
happiness, only known to those two beings who have given it to each
other by mutual exchange.

We often see this phenomenon in life. A handsome cavalier, who was the
lion of society, disappears from the perfumed drawing-room world, and
years after can scarcely be recognized in the country farmer, with his
rough appearance and shabby coat. A happy family life has wrought this
change in him. It is not possible that this same happy feeling which
could produce that out of the brilliant, buttoned dress-coat, could let
down the young man's pride of character, and give him in its stead an
easy-going, wide and water-proof work-a-day blouse, could give him
towards the world indifference and want of interest? Let his opponent
cry from end to end of the country with mocking guffaws that Lorand
Aronffy is no cavalier, no gentleman; the smile of his wife will be
compensation for his lost pride.

Now the only thing he required was the eternal silence of the one man,
who was permitted to know of his whereabouts, his brother.

Should he make everything known to him?--give entirely into his hands
th