"That is not true, sir! That I deny!"
"What! Not true! There are people who have seen her."
"Who?"
"Clement, the Patrol-officer."
"Clement the poet? Ah! We all know that lying is the masterpiece of poets."
"Very well, my lord baron. As you deny everything, I will try to get to the bottom of the matter myself. I will therefore go in person to the place in question, and if I find confirmation of that whereof you are accused, let me tell you that a threefold punishment awaits you: first, for the rape of the Turkish girl; next, for the violence done to a princely messenger; and thirdly, for adultery. Each one of these deeds is sufficient in itself to hurl you down from your presumptuous height. My lord Csaky, lead us to this place; and you, my lord Denis Banfi, will in the meantime remain here."
Banfi stood there with a bloodless face, and his feet rooted to the ground.
Meanwhile his wife had risen from her seat, and rallying all her strength with a supreme effort, stepped in front of the Prince and said—
"Sir, pardon my husband! He knows nothing of this thing—the fault is mine—the woman whom you seek turned to me for protection in her hour of need—and—I concealed her in that place—without my husband's knowledge."
Every word she spoke seemed to cost the pale, fragile lady superhuman exertion. Banfi turned very red and cast down his eyes before her. The Princess looked triumphantly at her sister and pressed her hand.