The colour suddenly faded from the young lady's cheeks.
"Otto Palvicz?" repeated Sister Remigia. No one else uttered the name.
"Yes," returned Rideghváry, "the courier who was despatched to us was an eye-witness of the encounter between Otto Palvicz and Richard Baradlay. They aimed their swords at each other's heads both at the same time, and both fell at the same instant from their horses."
There were now two pale faces turned anxiously toward the speaker, who continued with cruel deliberation:
"Baradlay still lives; Otto Palvicz is dead."
Edith sank back with a sigh of relief and folded her hands as one who gives thanks in silence, while Alfonsine, her features convulsed with rage and despair, sprang up from her chair and stood looking down wildly upon the speaker. Her mother turned to her in alarm. Was she about to betray her carefully guarded secret? But the girl cared little then what she said or who heard her.
"Cursed be he who killed Otto Palvicz!" she exclaimed, with an ungovernable outburst of passion; and then, overcome by her feelings, she sank down on the sofa, sobbing violently. "Oh, my dear Otto!" she moaned, and then, turning again to Rideghváry: "There is no one in this city or in the whole world that can hate better than you and I. You know all: you have seen me and heard me. Is there any retribution in this world?"
"Yes," answered Rideghváry.
"Find it for me, even if hell itself has to be searched for it. Do you understand me?"
"We both understand each other," was the quiet reply.