"So indeed it is," said Cornelia sadly.
"And how came you to know it before it has been officially reported to me?"
"My uncle is a magistrate there, and he told me. He came from thence in his carriage, while the prisoner was being brought along on foot."
"They are bringing him hither—hither to me," groaned the General impatiently and turning pale. "They will hand him over to me, and I shall have to pronounce judgment upon him."
How he feared, how he shuddered at the thought!
"You could not have told me a worse tale," resumed the General, turning to his wife, and supporting her tender little head against his bosom. "That is a sad, a very sad story."
"But the end has yet to come."
"Yes, and the saddest part of it is that the end of it is in my hands."
"And to my mind it could not be in better hands."
"How can you say that? Is not every member of the Hétfalusy family my personal enemy? If I could forget everything else, must I not remember that they have insulted you? Why, this very young windbag actually insulted you, you my wife, at a public assembly, and now Fate has cast him at my feet, him the last scion of the family, and I must be his judge and pronounce sentence of death upon him! The whole world will believe that I have gladly taken advantage of this grievous opportunity of revenging myself in the most bloody, the most exemplary manner upon my enemies! They will fancy that I condemn the son of my bitterest enemy to the gallows because I am thirsting for his blood. And you say it is well that it should be so!"