to become his wife; and the sad,
closed church produced upon him the effect of a tomb.

He dragged himself away from the contemplation of the stone threshold,
where slept the tired man--drunk perhaps, at all events happier than the
Prince--and proceeded on his way through the woods to the abode of Marsa
Laszlo.

There was, Zilah remembered well, quite near there, a sort of narrow
valley (where the Mayor of Maisons was said to have royally entertained
Louis XIV and his courtiers, as they were returning from Marly), a lovely
spot, surrounded by grassy slopes covered with violets, a little shady,
Virgilian wood, where he and Marsa had dreamed away many happy hours.
They had christened it The Vale o f Violets. How many memories were in
that sweet name, each one of which stabbed and exasperated Zilah, rising
before him like so many spectres.

He hastened his steps, repeating:

"He is there! She is waiting for him! Her lover is there!"

At the end of the road, before the villa, closed and silent like the old
church, he stopped. He had reached his destination; but what was he about
to do, he who--who up to this time had protected his name from the
poisonous breath of scandal?

He was about to kill Menko, or to be killed himself. A duel! But what was
the need of proposing a duel, when, exercising his rights as a husband,
he could punish both the man and the woman?

He did not hesitate long, however, but advanced to the gate, saying,
aloud:

"I have a right to enter my own house."

The ringing of the bell was answered by the barking of Duna, Bundas, and
Ortog, who tore furiously at their iron chains.

A man presently appeared on the other side of the gate. It was a domestic
whom Andras did not know and had never seen.

"Whom do you wish to see?" asked the man.

"The Princess Zilah!"

"Who are you?" demanded the man, his hand upon the inner bolt of the
gate.

"Prince Zilah!"

The other stood stock-still in amazement, trying to see, through the
darkness, the Prince's face.

"Do you hear me?" demanded Andras.

And, as the domestic opened the gate, as if to observe the appearance of
the visitor, the Prince gave it a nervous push, which threw the servant
backward; and, once within the garden, he came close to him, and said:

"Look well at me, in order that you may recognize me again. I am master
here."

Zilah's clear eye and imperious manner awed the man, and he bowed humbly,
not daring to speak.

Andras t