the fierce black, but rather nut-brown
eyes, showing fire and light, yet now so cold. The nose and the oval
of her face were delicately formed, her lips when her mouth was closed
were gentle and delicate. The rest of her features seemed to be making
an effort not to share her smile, and the mouth when open was proud
and authoritative.

"What, still awake!" she said to her maids. Her voice had a pleasant
ring although the lower tones were subdued by sorrow.

"We wished to sit up for your ladyship so that you would not have to
wait outside for us," answered the old woman, bustling about her
mistress and taking the heavy cloak from her shoulders.

"Is not Andy back yet?" asked Madame Apafi, in a voice almost stifled.

"Not yet, but I am expecting him every moment." The lady sighed
deeply. How much suppressed sorrow, how many vanishing hopes, what
depths of resignation lay in that sigh! Before the strong soul of this
woman passed the many sufferings of her joyless life, her struggles
with fate, mankind and her own heart; her love had been grafted upon
pain that could bring forth wishes only--no pleasures. Another year
of her life had passed, rich only in struggles. With the industry of a
bee, she had succeeded in getting together a few offerings for the
single purpose of her life, and who knew how many more such years
there must be before she could attain it: thus far, she had only work,
patience and a joyless love. Madame Apafi forced her countenance back
into its wonted coldness, bade her servants good-night and was just
going to her room, when Clara kissed the hand of her mistress, causing
her to look at the maid with astonishment. She felt a hot tear on her
hand, which had come in spite of the maiden.

"What is the matter with you?" asked the lady, taken aback.

"Nothing is the matter with me," sobbed the maiden, "but you--most
gracious lady--I am so sorry for you. I have for a long time been
thinking of something, but have never dared tell it. We often talk of
it--how our master has been taken prisoner, and how hard it is to get
his ransom;--I mean my friends in the village;--all of us have
necklaces with much useless gold and silver coin on them, and so we
girls have agreed to put this money together that we have no use for
and give it to you, gracious lady, to send off as ransom for our
master." Madame Apafi pressed the hand of her maidservant and a tear
came to her eye.

"I thank you, my girl," she said, to