And then he called her a name, a low, degrading name, the worst of all names that a man can call a woman.
With a hiss of rage the virago rushed upon him with the frantic idea of plunging her knife in his heart.
But nay, not so.
Her face was white with fury, her whole frame trembled.
"I became that all through you!" she gasped with husky rage. "But you will not mock me for it much longer. Do you see your grandchild here in my power?"
"You swore you would not hurt her."
"I swore I would not kill her, but I will make her what I was. By Heaven and Earth and all the torments of Hell, I swear I will do it."
"Woman!" stammered Hétfalusy, and his face lost at last its expression of stony endurance.
"Ha-ha!" cried the virago, with a laugh like the howl of a wild beast. "The last scion of the house of Hétfalusy will do credit to a house of ill-fame. Look how lovely she is! Look at her face, her figure, her eyes! As innocent as an angel too! Ah! you are weeping now, are you? But you will have to weep tears of blood, you accursed old wretch, for what I say I mean to do!"
"Woman, if you believe in God——" began the old man, writhing to free himself from his bonds.