The General stared stiffly for a time at the young man, then he read the letter through in silence, finally refolding it and thrusting it into his breast-pocket.
Then he turned to the window, and remained for a long time in a brown study.
Suddenly he turned once more towards the youth and said:
"Sir, devise some means whereby I may save this man. Find, I say, some way or mode of salvation compatible with soldierly honour, and I will pursue it."
The youth, surprised, overcome, rushed towards the General, seized his muscular hand, and would certainly have kissed it had not the General drawn it back.
Vértessy was very near losing his composure.
"Stay here!" said he. "There you have," pointing at Cornelia, "a confederate who would also take the stronghold by assault. Deliberate together, and devise some expedient. I leave you to yourselves."
And with that he quitted the room, leaving the young man alone with his wife.
And when he had gone, when the door had closed to behind him, the figure of the strange youth lost its soldierly bearing, and his limbs with a painful spasm subsided into that picturesque pose in which artists generally represent Niobe, or the Daughters of Sion mourning by the willows of Babylon. Every trace of energy and vigour vanished from his face, his eyelids closed over his tearful eyes, and his lips parted with an expression of the deepest emotion. Once more he raised his languishing head to show his strength of mind, but the effort was useless. In the presence of a woman such affectation was no longer possible, and when his eyes met those of Cornelia, he suddenly burst into tears, fell sobbing on his knees before her, seized her hand, pressed it convulsively to his breast, and trembling and gasping, said to her in a voice full of agony:
"Oh, madame, by the tender mercies of God, I implore you to help me and not forsake me."