Hesitating a little, the servant added: 

“Have I not the honor to speak to Prince Zilah?”

“Why?” asked Andras.

The valet replied with a humble but very sincere air: 

“Because, if Monseigneur should hear from the Count, and there is any question of the package which I took to Maisons-Lafitte this morning for Monseigneur—­”

“Well?” said Andras.

“Monseigneur would greatly oblige me if he would not let the Count know that I did not fulfil his orders last evening.”

“Last evening?  What do you mean?  Explain yourself!” said the Prince, sternly.

“When he left yesterday, the Count expressly ordered me to take the package to Monseigneur that very evening.  I beg Monseigneur’s pardon; but I had an invitation to a wedding, and I did not carry out the Count’s instructions until this morning.  But, as Monseigneur was not at home, I took the train to Maisons-Lafitte.  I hope that I did not arrive too late.  The Count was very particular about it, and I should be very sorry if my negligence has done any harm.”

Andras listened, gazing intently upon the face of the servant, who was a little discountenanced by this silent inquisition.

“So Count Menko wished the package to be delivered to me yesterday?”

“I beg Monseigneur not to tell the Count that he was not obeyed.”

“Yesterday?” repeated Andras.

“Yes, yesterday, Monseigneur.  The Count departed, thinking it would be done; and, indeed, he had a right to think so.  I am very careful, Monseigneur, very careful; and if Monseigneur should some day have need of a—­”

The Prince stopped the valet with a gesture.  It was repugnant to Andras to have this man mixed up in a secret of his life; and such a secret!  But the domestic was evidently ignorant what a commission Menko had confided to him:  in his eyes, the package, containing such letters, was like any other package.  Andras was persuaded of this by the attitude of the man, humiliated at having failed in his duty.

A word more exchanged with the valet, and Andras would have felt humiliated himself.  But he had gained from the conversation the idea that Menko had not wished to insult him in his happiness, but to reveal all to him before the ceremony had yet been celebrated.  It was as atrocious, but not so cowardly.  Menko had wished to attack Marsa, rather than Andras; this was visible in the express commands given to his valet.  And upon what a trifle had it depended, whether the name of Zilah should be borne by this woman!  Upon what?  Upon a servant’s feast!  Life is full of strange chances.  The hands of that low-born valet had held for hours his happiness and his honor—­his honor, Andras Zilah’s—­the honor of all his race!

The Prince returned to his hotel, which he had left that morning thinking that he would soon bring there the woman he then adored, but whom he now despised and hated.  Oh! he would know where Menko had gone; him he could punish; as for Marsa, she was now dead to him.