Ershebet wept.
"Weep, wretched woman, weep!" continued Tengelyi, "though your tears cannot atone for your offence. Was there ever a better child, or one more loving? and see what you have made of her! She was my pride; my heart became young when I saw her. I forgot the past. I might almost have loved mankind, because she was of their kind, and because they praised her. But now I must blush when her name is mentioned. I dare not raise my eyes, and am a criminal for no crime of my own!"
"For God's sake, pity me!" cried Mrs. Ershebet; "if you love me,—if you ever did love me, pity me!"
"If I ever did love you? God knows that I did! Did I ever speak an unkind word to you? did I not listen to your wishes? did I not tell you all my thoughts? and how did you requite me for all this love? I entreated you not to receive young Rety in my house, and you promised it, and, at that very moment, you thought of deceiving me. Akosh knew the day on which my command was to be infringed! You taught your daughter to deceive me. You waited for your guest in my absence. You trembled at the thought of my approach! This is what you did for all my love!"
"God sees my heart, Jonas. He knows that I do not deserve this!"
"Silence! don't speak to me unless you wish me to curse the day on which I led you to the altar and brought you to this house!"
His violent speech was interrupted by Vilma, who, rushing into the room, threw herself at his feet.
"Father!" cried she.
He stood still. He looked at his daughter, and felt that his heart was indeed broken. All his passion was softened into grief. The hand which he had raised for a curse dropped, and rested on the head of his child.
"Can you pardon your own Vilma?" said the girl.