But he himself had not the right to dispose of Marsa’s liberty; the consent of the Prince was necessary.  It was in vain for Andras to refuse to have his life disturbed; it was absolutely necessary to find out from him what should be done with Marsa, who was his wife and Princess Zilah.

The General also felt that he was incapable of understanding anything, ignorant as he was of the reasons of the rupture, of Zilah’s anger against the Tzigana, and of the young girl’s terrible stupor; and, as he drank his cherry cordial or his brandy, wondered if he too were insane, as he repeated, like his niece: 

“I do not know!  I do not know!”

He felt obliged, however, to go and tell the Prince of the opinion of the illustrious physician of Salpetriere.

Then he asked Zilah: 

“What is your decision?”

“General,” replied Andras, “whatever you choose to do is right.  But, once for all, remember that I wish henceforth to live alone, entirely alone, and speak to me neither of the future nor of the past, which is cruel, nor of the present, which is hopeless.  I have determined—–­”

“What?”

“To live hereafter an absolutely selfish life!”

“That will change you,” returned the General, in amazement.

“And will console me,” added Andras.

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PRINCE ZILAH

By JULES CLARETIE

BOOK 3.

CHAPTER XXIV

A LITTLE PARISIAN ROMANCE

The very evening of the day when the package of letters had killed in Andras all happiness and all faith, the Hungarian prince presented himself in the Rue d’Aumale, to seek Michel Menko.

Menko!  That boy whom he had loved almost as a brother, that man for whom he had hoped a glorious future, Michel, Michel Menko, had betrayed him, and struck him with the perfidy of a coward.  Yes, at the door of the church, when it was too late, or rather, at a time when the blow would be surer and the wound more deadly—­then Menko had said to him:  “My dear Prince, the woman whom you love, the woman whom you have married, has been my mistress.  Here, read, see how she loved me!”

Had Michel been before him, Andras would have seized the young man by the throat, and strangled him on the spot; but, when he reached the Rue d’Aumale, he did not find Menko.

“The Count left town yesterday,” said the servant, in answer to his question.

“Yesterday!  Where has he gone?”

“The Count must have taken the steamer to-day at Havre for New York.  The Count did not tell us exactly where he was going, however, but to America, somewhere.  We only know, the coachman Pierre, and myself, that the Count will not return again to Paris.  We are still in his service, however, and are to await his orders.”