She began to love her husband.
When early next morning the carriage stood in the courtyard of Hidvar.
Henrietta awoke in her husband's arms: there she had been sleeping for a long time.

When she looked round and encountered Hatszegi's bright manly glances it almost seemed to her as if the dreadful scene of the night before was a mere dream, from which it was a joy to awake.

When her husband kissed her hand before departing for his own room, Henrietta pressed _his_ hand in return and gave him a grateful smile.
But what then was the key to this horrible mystery?
Who could have hit upon the idea of sending this jewelry?
There was not a gleam of light to go by.

An enigma closed the way to every elucidation, and this enigma was--Fatia Negra.

How did the jewelry get out of his hands into Henrietta's?
What was the motive for such a transfer?
And who was the man himself?
This thought gave Henrietta no rest.
Why could they not seize this famous robber?
First of all, she kept on asking her husband about it, and he replied that the whole story about Fatia Negra was only a Wallachian fable.