"Nothing," replied the girl, sobbing; "it is only that I feel so sorry for your ladyship. I have long had an idea in my head, but have never yet dared to express it. We have often talked about our master's captivity and his grievous ransom. We village girls have all of us got necklaces of gold and silver coins which are no good to us. So we have agreed among ourselves to club together all this money now lying idle and give it to your ladyship towards our master's ransom. It may not be much, but still is something."
Lady Apafi, her eyes glistening with involuntary tears, pressed hard the peasant girl's trembling hand.
"I thank thee, my girl," she said, deeply touched. "I prize thy offer more highly than if my sister Banfi had placed ten thousand gold chains at my disposal. But God will also be my helper. In Him is my trust."
At that moment the trampling of horses was heard in the courtyard and the dogs fell to barking.
"Who can that be? Robbers, perhaps!" stammered the old nurse, and neither of the two servants durst approach the door.
Then Dame Apafi took the light from the table, stepped to the door, opened it, and looked out into the courtyard.
"Who's there?" she cried, loudly and clearly.
"We!—I mean to say I," returned a hesitating voice, which all three immediately recognized as Andy's.
"Oh, 'tis you? Come hither quickly!" said Lady Apafi joyfully, pushing Andy into the room, who was plainly very much confused, for he kept on twirling about his hat in his hands, and looked sheepishly at the floor.
"Well, did you see him and speak to him? Is he well?" asked Lady Apafi impetuously.