It was now the turn of my own heart to stop beating. That female shape was Bessy—the sea-eyed beauty!
How came they two to be together? How came they to be both here at the same time?
But it was no vision. The fair lady recognised me instantly. Her face, red already from her mountain scramble, could be no redder at the sight of me, nor could her bosom heave more than it was heaving now; but on her face there was a sort of holding-back expression.
Friend Valentine perceived the look of amazed inquiry on my face, and turning with true histrionic humour towards his lady-companion, introduced her to me with the words, "My grandmother!"
At this witticism the lady laughed, and I had sufficient self-control not to reply to this introduction with a single word.
"Then come to my bosom, my son, for I am thy grandfather."
"It is very strange we should meet here," I put in.
But my friend's features suddenly darkened as if he were obeying a stage direction like, "here he suddenly assumes a grave face."
"First of all, my dear friend," said he, "I demand your word of honour not to reveal to any one in the created world that you have seen me. You know that I am now Tihamér Rengetegi till the old blonde hair grow again (what I'm wearing now is a wig); for a heavy price is fixed upon my head. A word, and I am lost. Your parole that you'll say nothing about me?"
"The promise must be mutual, then," I replied. "I just as solemnly require you to say not a word to anybody about me, for I also am in hiding here."