Varhely, after a casual examination of the ruins of an old castle which formed one side of the square, was about to return to the church, when a domestic in livery pushed his way through the crowd, and raising himself upon his toes, peered into the church as if seeking some one.  After a moment the man approached Yanski, and, taking off his hat, asked, respectfully: 

“Is it to Monsieur Varhely that I have the honor to speak?”

“Yes,” replied Yanski, a little surprised.

“I have a package for Prince Andras Zilah:  would Monsieur have the kindness to take charge of it, and give it to the Prince?  I beg Monsieur’s pardon; but it is very important, and I am obliged to go away at once.  I should have brought it to Maisons yesterday.”

As he spoke, the servant drew from an inside pocket a little package carefully wrapped, and sealed with red sealing-wax.

“Monsieur will excuse me,” he said again, “but it is very important.”

“What is it?” asked Varhely, rather brusquely.  “Who sent it?”

“Count Michel Menko.”

Varhely knew very well (as also did Andras), that Michel had been seriously ill; otherwise, he would have been astonished at the young man’s absence from the wedding of the Prince.

He thought Michel had probably sent a wedding present, and he took the little package, twisting it mechanically in his hands.  As he did so, he gave a slight start of surprise; it seemed as if the package contained letters.

He looked at the superscription.  The name of Prince Andras Zilah was traced in clear, firm handwriting, and, in the left-hand corner, Michel Menko had written, in Hungarian characters:  “Very important!  With the expression of my excuses and my sorrow.”  And below, the signature “Menko Mihaly.”

The domestic was still standing there, hat in hand.  “Monsieur will be good enough to pardon me,” he said; “but, in the midst of this crowd, I could not perhaps reach his Excellency, and the Count’s commands were so imperative that—­”

“Very well,” interrupted Varhely.  “I will myself give this to the Prince immediately.”

The domestic bowed, uttered his thanks, and left Varhely vaguely uneasy at this mysterious package which had been brought there, and which Menko had addressed to the Prince.

With the expression of his excuses and his sorrow!  Michel doubtless meant that he was sorry not to be able to join Andras’s friends—­he who was one of the most intimate of them, and whom the Prince called “my child.”  Yes, it was evidently that.  But why this sealed package? and what did it contain?  Yanski turned it over and over between his fingers, which itched to break the wrapper, and find out what was within.

He wondered if there were really any necessity to give it to the Prince.  But why should he not?  What folly to think that any disagreeable news could come from Michel Menko!  The young man, unable to come himself to Maisons, had sent his congratulations to the Prince, and Zilah would be glad to receive them from his friend.  That was all.  There was no possible trouble in all this, but only one pleasure the more to Andras.