th a sword. Half-fainting she stared at her
husband as if doubting whether his words could have been in earnest or
whether she ought not to take them for a horrible jest.

"You are unhappy," Banfy went on, "and I cannot help you. You love to
dream and I do not understand you in the least. Possibly my soul does
hurt yours, but it is unintentional. It is a fact that your feelings
hurt mine and that I will not endure. I recognize no tyrant over me,
not even in love. I will not be importuned even with tears. Let us
tear our hearts apart. Better for us to do it now while they would
still bleed, than to wait until they fall apart naturally. Better for
us to separate now while we love each other, than to wait until we
come to hatred."

During this terrible speech the lady struggled, gasping for breath, as
if some dread phantom oppressed her heart and robbed her of speech,
until at last her passion made its way by force and she uttered the
piercing cry:

"Banfy, you have killed me!"

Her voice, the expression of her face, seemed to make Banfy tremble;
and though he was already on the point of leaving the room in haste,
he stopped half-way and looked once more at his wife. He did not
notice at this moment that the door had opened and that some one had
entered. He saw only that in the face of his wife, so ravaged with
despair, there came suddenly an indescribably distressed smile; this
forced smile on her agonized features was something terrible. Banfy
thought his wife was losing her mind. But Madame Banfy rose, bustling
from her seat and cried out,

"Anna, my dear sister," and rushed to the door.

Then for the first time Banfy turned toward the door and saw Anna
Bornemissa, wife of Michael Apafi.

This keen-eyed woman had not failed to take in the situation in which
she had surprised these married people, although they knew well how to
assume a calm air in an instant; but she acted as if she had noticed
nothing. She drew Margaret to her breast and extended her hand to
Banfy in the most friendly fashion. Her sister had not yet fully
recovered.

"I heard your voices outside," said Madame Apafi, "and that is why I
came here without being announced."

"Oh yes, we were laughing," said Madame Banfy, and made haste to dry
her tears with her handkerchief.

"To what circumstances are we indebted for this extraordinary good
fortune?" asked Banfy, hiding his confusion behind rare courtesy.

"As you did not bring my sister to