"I will not be separated from you!" she declared. "I am yours, yours for ever, yours in life and in death, your beloved, your wife, ready to sacrifice all for you, to suffer all!"
At length she recovered her composure somewhat, and, lifting her tearful eyes to heaven, breathed a solemn vow: "To you, my friend, my lover, my all, to you or to the grave I dedicate myself. No power on earth shall tear me from you. For your sake I will leave kith and kin, abjure my faith, disown the mother who bore me, if they stand in the way of our happiness. For you I will go into exile and wander over the earth as a homeless beggar. Whatever your destiny,—be it life or be it death,—I will share it."
The exaltation of the moment quite robbed Jenő of his last bit of reason. Was it all a dream, or was it reality, he asked himself.
Neither one nor the other, dear Jenő, but an excellent bit of play-acting. Poor credulous youth! It is all a part of a well-laid and far-reaching plot, of which you are the innocent victim.
After leaving her lover, Alfonsine did not return to the drawing-room, but hastened to her maid's chamber, where she learned that Sister Remigia was waiting for her in her room. First removing, with Betty's help, the traces of her scene with Jenő, Alfonsine hurried to meet the nun.
"Is Major Palvicz here?" she demanded.
"No," answered the sister; "he only returned yesterday from his pursuit of Captain Baradlay, whom he failed to overtake."
"Did he send an answer to my letter?"
"Yes; there it is." Sister Remigia handed Alfonsine a note, and then crossed the corridor to Antoinette's room.
Alfonsine remained behind to read her letter. She first locked her door, to guard against surprise, after which she sat down at her table and broke the seal.