"Here is my pocketbook to begin with, and I will open an account for you with a Czernovicz banker." What was most important of all, the smooth-tongued secretary had entirely omitted,--namely, that the subject of his ingenious story was at that moment alive and well, and waiting to see the sun rise over the Toroczko hills.
After the prince had somewhat recovered from the effect produced upon him by Benjamin Vajdar's announcement, he gave himself up to the rapturous thought that now at last he could carry word to Rozina of his wife's death.

He sought her presence without delay.
The marchioness, cosily ensconced on her sofa, was either asleep, or feigned to be, when Cagliari entered and whispered in her ear: "Rozina, my wife is dead!" Her eyes opened and a quick flush of pleasure overspread her face.

"How?
When?
Where ?" she asked eagerly.
"At Nagy-Enyed--killed by the insurgents." "Nonsense!" cried the marchioness.

"Who told you so ?" "My private secretary, your favourite, Benjamin Vajdar.

He has just read it in the despatches received at the war office." The listener's eyes flashed with scorn.
"I am telling you the truth," asserted the other, vehemently.