Varhely, after a casual examination of the ruins of an old castle which formed one side of the square, was about to return to the church, when a domestic in livery pushed his way through the crowd, and raising himself upon his toes, peered into the church as if seeking some one. After a moment the man approached Yanski, and, taking off his hat, asked, respectfully:
“Is it to Monsieur Varhely that I have the honor to speak?”
“Yes,” replied Yanski, a little surprised.
“I have a package for Prince Andras Zilah: would Monsieur have the kindness to take charge of it, and give it to the Prince? I beg Monsieur’s pardon; but it is very important, and I am obliged to go away at once. I should have brought it to Maisons yesterday.”
As he spoke, the servant drew from an inside pocket a little package carefully wrapped, and sealed with red sealing-wax.
“Monsieur will excuse me,” he said again, “but it is very important.”
“What is it?” asked Varhely, rather brusquely. “Who sent it?”
“Count Michel Menko.”
Varhely knew very well (as also did Andras), that Michel had been seriously ill; otherwise, he would have been astonished at the young man’s absence from the wedding of the Prince.
He thought Michel had probably sent a wedding present, and he took the little package, twisting it mechanically in his hands. As he did so, he gave a slight start of surprise; it seemed as if the package contained letters.