"See, it mocks me still and is unbroken!" said Banfy, with blazing eyes.
Azraele sprang up, caught up the glass and crushed it under her feet.
Then Banfy took the third glass.
"This glass for Transylvania!" And he emptied it, but when he had taken it from his lips the smile died from his face and instead of hurling it at the wall he set it on the table. A cold shudder ran through his whole frame at the meaning of his own words, "This glass for Transylvania!" He did not take his hand from the glass but timorously attempted to raise it from the table, when the glass without visible cause cracked and fell into fragments in his hand. The diamond ring on his finger had scratched the glass and like all badly cooled crystal, it went to pieces at the slightest scratch. Banfy sprang back in terror as if he had seen an omen.
The girl took up his glass and with lips quivering with passion cried out, "And this glass for love!"
The words recalled Banfy from his bewilderment to the present surroundings.
"For me there is no love!"
"Your heart has been full of lofty plans. Fate had determined you to be the ruler of a country and perhaps the hero of half a world,—a man who should fill a page of history with his name."
"All that is past," said Banfy, "I am nobody and nothing!"
"Ah!" cried Azraele. "Have your enemies triumphed over you?"