"And if at any time your hatred slumbers or your zeal slackens, come to me."
"Never fear," returned Rideghváry; "we shall see ourselves revenged in good time—though the heavens fall. We will turn all Hungary into such a scene of mourning as will live in the memory of three generations. For the next ten years black shall be the fashionable colour to wear. I hate my country, every blade of grass that grows in its soil, every infant at its mother's breast. And now you know me as I know you. Whenever we have need of each other's aid, we shall not fail to lend it."
So saying, he took his hat and departed without bowing to any one in the room.
Sister Remigia, as in duty bound, sought to administer spiritual consolation and advice to Alfonsine. "Throw yourself in your affliction on Heaven's mercy," said she with unction, "and God will not fail to strengthen and console you."
Alfonsine turned upon her with a wild look. "I ask nothing of Heaven's mercy," she retorted; "I have ceased to pray."
The nun folded her hands piously and sought to soothe the passionate young woman. "Remember," she urged, "that you are still a Christian."
"I am a Christian no longer," returned the other. "I am a woman no longer. Just as there are creatures on earth who cease to be women, call themselves nuns, and do nothing but pray, so there are others that cease to be women and do nothing but curse—or worse if they can."
Sister Remigia, shocked by these impious words, which it was sacrilege even to listen to, gathered up her cloak and hastened to depart, motioning to Edith to follow. But Alfonsine barred the young girl's way and held her back.
"You are not to return to the convent," said she; "you will stay here with us."
The pious nun did not stop to remonstrate. She was only too glad to escape from the house.