“The Princess Zilah!”
“Who are you?” demanded the man, his hand upon the inner bolt of the gate.
“Prince Zilah!”
The other stood stock-still in amazement, trying to see, through the darkness, the Prince’s face.
“Do you hear me?” demanded Andras.
And, as the domestic opened the gate, as if to observe the appearance of the visitor, the Prince gave it a nervous push, which threw the servant backward; and, once within the garden, he came close to him, and said:
“Look well at me, in order that you may recognize me again. I am master here.”
Zilah’s clear eye and imperious manner awed the man, and he bowed humbly, not daring to speak.
Andras turned on his heel, mounted the steps, and entered the house; then he stopped and listened.
She was with him. Yes, a man was there, and the man was speaking, speaking to Marsa, speaking doubtless of love.