For a moment a smile of delight flashed across the General's face, which immediately afterwards, however, formed into still darker folds than before.
Hastily transferring the command to his first lieutenant, he hastened to his dwelling, promising to be back in a moment.
It must indeed have been a matter of importance to have constrained Vértessy to quit the post becoming a soldier at such a moment.
He hastened as fast as he could go to his wife's bedchamber.
The curtains had been let down, in the semi-obscure alcove lay a pale woman, seemingly a corpse which, nevertheless, was suffering the torments of life.
Domestics were gathered round the bed, at a table sat the doctor writing something.
Vértessy had already unfastened his sword outside so as to avoid making a clatter. He now rushed to Cornelia's side, seized her trembling, sweat-covered hand, and, pressing it to his lips, inquired:
"How do you feel?"
"On the threshold of death," answered the lady, and with her other arm she drew down her husband's head towards her that she might kiss it. Her whole face was as white as marble, and the cold sweat stood out upon her forehead like pearly beads.
"The coming hour has secrets of its own, Vértessy," lisped the lady, pressing Vértessy's hand in her own, "whether it be good or evil, joy or death."