"In God's hands," whispered the lady, raising her glorious eyes. "God chastises and is merciful as it seemeth Him good."
Her convulsive pressure showed Vértessy what she must be suffering.
"There is mercy with God," faintly murmured the lady once more.
Vértessy felt his heart tremble at these words. An hour before he also had said: "With God there is mercy," and that to a man who had promised himself a long life.
The lady turned towards him with a languid look, pressed both her husband's hands to her breast, and looking long and painfully into his eyes, she asked:
"Will God be merciful to me?"
"To thee, my angel?—yes!—oh yes!" stammered the General.
"And have you also been merciful to him who begged you for mercy?"
Vértessy could not meet that look, he could find no words to answer that question.
"Vértessy! One death demands another, judgment is requited with judgment. I am standing on the edge of the grave, do not let me die."