ounced the Decurio's name, and produced his pazsura.

The Wallachian examined it on every side, and then stepped back to let
the stranger pass, after which, he once more laid down his scythe and
cap, and knelt before the shrine.

The stranger knocked at the Decurio's door, which was locked; and an
armed Wallachian appeared from behind the rock, and informed him that
the Decurio was not at home, only his wife.

"His wife?" exclaimed the stranger in surprise.

"Yes, that pale girl who fell to him by lot."

"And she is his wife?"

"He told us so himself, and swore that if any of us dared so much as
lift his eye upon her, he would send him to St. Nicholas in paradise."

"Can I not see her?"

"I would not advise you; for if the Decurio hears of it, he will make
two halves of you; but you may go round to the window if you
like--only let me get out of the way first, that the Decurio may not
find me here."

The stranger hastened to the window, and, looking in, he saw the
young girl seated on an arm-chair made of rough birch boughs, with a
little prayer-book on her knee; her fair arm supporting her head,
while a mass of golden ringlets half veiled her face, which was pale
as an alabaster statue; the extreme sadness of its expression
rendering her beauty still more touching.

"Jolanka!" exclaimed the stranger passionately.

She started at the well-known voice, and, uttering a cry of joy,
rushed to the window.

"Oh, Imre!" she murmured, "are you come at last!"

"Can I not enter? can I not speak with you?"

The young girl hastened to unbar the door, which was locked from the
inside, and as Imre entered she threw herself into his arms, while he
pressed her fondly to his heart.

The Wallachian, who had stolen to the window, stood aghast with
terror, and, as soon as the Decurio arrived, he ran to meet him, and
related, with vehement gesticulations, how the girl had thrown herself
into the peasant's arms.

"And how did you know that?" asked Numa, coldly.

"I saw them through the window."

"And how dared you look through my window? Did I not forbid you? Down
on your knees instantly, and pray!"

The Wallachian fell on his knees, and clasped his hands.

"Rebel! you deserve the punishment of death for having disobeyed my
commands; and if you ever dare to open your lips on the subject,
depend upon it, you shall not escape!" And with these words, he strode
away, leaving the astonished informer on his knees, in which