"Mr. Rozgonyi did not allow much time for questions. He just said that he had brought some stone-masons with him; and apparently they had come to pull down and not to build, at least in the first place, for he wound up by saying that the king was going to have the stones used to build a church and monastery in the nearest village. There would be enough for three, I should think!"
"And did Miss Esther ever think of the poor beggar boy?"
"To be sure! But I thought more of the valiant Alpári János [John], who was so brave as to come into Mr. Samson's hiding-place, and then so clever as to get the wicked tyrant into his hands. But, Sir Knight, I felt afraid of you too, and I must confess that I am rather afraid of you still. For—you are certainly very clever at pretending and making believe to be what you are not; and when one finds it all out, how is one to believe anything you may say?"
"Good Esther!" said Michael, looking a little shamefaced, "but didn't I keep my promise to you? I said you should be released, and you were."
"True," admitted Esther.
"And if I acted the part of a dissembler with Mr. Samson, I was not my own master, you know; I belonged to the king, and was obeying his orders, not following my own fancies and wishes. But as regards yourself, I have never dissembled at all, from the time when first I began to make your acquaintance, and it rests with you to put my sincerity to the test."
"How do you mean? But I see we have been chattering away a long time.—Euphrosyne, light the candles.—And you, sir, must go, if you please; we have talked enough for to-day."
But though Esther dismissed him now, no day passed after this without his coming to see her; and both she and Euphrosyne seemed to be always glad to see him and to listen to all he had to tell them, first about his own life and adventures, and the king whom he was never tired of extolling, and then about the day's incidents, his work and his studies, and what was going on in Buda; for they lived very quietly, and saw and heard but little of the outside world. Often, too, Esther would bring out her harp and play and sing. Her voice had gained in power and richness during the past two or three years, and she had had some teaching from one of the king's musicians; but nothing pleased Michael so well as to hear her sing the favourite old songs which he remembered of old, except—to hear her sing his own.