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1885.] me the man I love; you have robbed me of the love of István Tolnay."

The word was spoken at last, the name was said; their eyes met steadily. They looked at each other, these two women, as only rivals can look, – the one so splendidly dark, the other so gloriously fair: the one like light, the other like shade, yet both so beautiful. The black eyes were the deepest, the most intense in the heat of their slow-smouldering fire; but the grey eyes could flash as brightly, and that slight figure could draw itself up with as much proud self-reliance.

"And you sent for me to tell me that?" said Gretchen, in a voice which was hardly quite steady.

This sudden attack, so cruelly plain, so plainly pathetic, seized upon her soul with a fearful strength. It was too little European, too much oriental; there was not enough of regard paid to the polite usages of society, and there was too much of bare, unadorned, purely human feeling. Human feeling in this undisguised state is so seldom to be seen nowadays, smothered as it is in conventional wrappings six-fold thick, that when it is seen out of its wrappings, it startles us disagreeably, as something jarring, something raw – something too strong, too coarsely vigorous, for our tenderly bred nerves.

"Yes, I have sent for you to tell you that, mademoiselle."

"Then, Princess, I think I shall go home," said Gretchen, rising.

"I think not," said the Princess.

"And why not, pray?"

Tryphosa's eyes travelled round the room, and came back to Gretchen.

"Because the door is locked."

"I don't believe it," said Gretchen, and she went to the door and tried it. The handle moved freely, but the door remained fixed. She remembered now that whispered word of direction to the servant, and a sort of terror came over her. Was she caught in a trap?

She went to the window; it was half closed, and from the hillside opposite, where the moonlight was creeping down, chary of its precious beams, the sound of the wailing Flügelhorn still floated dismally on the air.

"I can call for somebody to open the door," she said, turning to Tryphosa. "I think I shall call."

"You will not."

The words were very slowly said, very calmly, and yet very decidedly.

They took hold of Gretchen as if they had been living hands. She began to understand the latent strength which existed deep down in this woman's soul – so deep down that a reflection of it rarely reached the surface.

"I shall not let you go," said Tryphosa, in the same subdued voice, "until you have told me what I want to know, and until I have told you what you must know. Let us not argue. I mean to do it, and I am very desperate."

Gretchen felt that what she said was true, and that what she meant to do, she would do. Against her own positive will, she obeyed.

She sat down again impatiently, and, snatching up the second feather-fan from the table, began to fan her face.

"Princess," she said, with a sort of rebellious resignation, "if you have indeed any questions to ask me, please ask them quickly. Though you have me in your power at this moment, you cannot intend to keep me prisoner all night."