"Do not be alarmed, Princess." The words came in a firm, manly voice that thrilled the hearer; she recognised the tones. Manasseh Adorjan stood before her. "I could not gain admittance by the front door," he explained, "so I went around to the garden gate."
"And how is it," asked Blanka, "that you have come to me at the very moment that I was seeking you?"
"I wished, first, to bid you farewell. I am going home, to Transylvania, for my people are in trouble and I must go and help them. As long as they are happy I avoid them, but when misfortune comes I cannot stay away. War threatens to invade our peaceful valley, and I hasten thither."
"Has the hour come, then, when you feel it right to kill your fellow-men?"
"No, Princess; my part is to restore peace, not to foment strife."
Blanka's hands were clasped in her lap. She raised them to her bosom and begged her fellow-countryman to take her with him.
The colour mounted to his face, his breast heaved, he passed his hand across his brow, whereon the perspiration had started, and stammered, in agitated accents:
"No, no, Princess, I cannot take you with me."
"Why not?" asked Blanka, tremulously.
"Because I am a man and but human. I could shield you against all the world, but not against myself. I love you! And if you came with me, how could you expect me to help you keep your vows? I am neither saint nor angel, but a mortal, and a sinful one."