Avoid us--and forget me forever--your affectionate--respectful--friend who will ever mention you in her prayers--and whom you have treated as a daughter--HENRIETTA." Gerzson's first feeling on reading this letter was one of relief--evidently Henrietta was not angry with him or she would not have alluded to herself as his daughter! There must therefore have been some other reason for her turning back other than the squabble between them which Hatszegi had so industriously circulated.

Well, he would settle accounts with Hatszegi presently.
What he found especially hard to understand, however, was the mysterious warning contained in the letter.
"Well, my dear parson," he said to himself, "I very much regret having to arouse you from your slumbers, but there's nothing else to be done," and, unscrewing the coach lamp, he took it with him and went towards the house.
The hall door was closed, he had to shake it.
The parson was evidently still awake, his voice resounded from within the house: "All good spirits praise the Lord!" "Amen! 'Tis I who am at the door.

Let me in reverend father." The priest immediately opened the door and, full of amazement, asked Mr.
Gerzson what had happened.
"Read that!" said Gerzson handing him the letter and lighting him with the lamp.
"This is the baroness's writing," said the priest, who immediately recognized the script.
"What do you say to its contents ?" "I say that you must get away from this place immediately.

I quite comprehend the meaning of the baroness's directions." "What! fly from a man whom I have just called out ?" "No, you must fly from the man you have _not_ called out." "I don't understand." "You will one day, but there is no time for parleying now.

First of all, put on my garments, while I dress up in peasants' clothes." "Why ?" "Why! Because I must be your guide through the mountains.