Henrietta saw how the crowd made way, how everyone stepped aside at this word of command; she saw even the shaking widow sit down somewhere; but then everything began to grow black before her eyes and she sank swooning into the arms of the man whom, hitherto, she had hated so much, and who in this most awful moment had been her sole deliverer! When she came to again, she found herself in the carriage. Her husband had not stayed a single instant longer in that town, but was conveying her, though it was now night time, straight to Hidvár.
It is not very advisable to travel in pitch-black darkness along mountain roads. Henrietta could gather from the slow jolting of the coach that they were proceeding very cautiously. She opened the window and peeped out. She then saw her husband walking along by the side of the coach with a lantern in his hand picking his way. The coachman was sitting on the box and the heyduke was close to the carriage in order to steady it over the more difficult places.
A voice within her reproached her for hating this man so long—how could she have done it? He had always been delicacy itself towards her, he had never demanded anything of her, and no doubt the reason why he had held back from his young wife for a time was because he would not importune her with his presence—her who had now learnt to recognize him as her sole protector!
After a vast amount of jolting and tumbling about, they got at last on to a regular road again. Here the baron halted the coach and looked inside it. When he saw that Henrietta was awake, he asked her if she wanted anything, and whether she would allow him to sit down beside her.
Henrietta had resolved to tell her husband everything at the very first question, everything, even to her most secret enthusiasms; nay, even that which God alone could read in her heart. But Hátszegi gave her no opportunity of doing so.
"My dear Henrietta," said he, "don't imagine for a moment that I shall trouble my head as to how you came into possession of that mysterious jewelry, or why you should have chosen them out of all your bijous to wear on this particular evening. I have charged myself with all the responsibility in the matter. I could not think of anything more appropriate to say at the moment. Only one thing I beg of you: tell me no lies. Act as if you had received the jewelry from me. I will so arrange the matter that nothing more will be heard about it. Such things may happen to anybody. The only awkwardness about the business is that the things were recognized in such a public place, and that the former possessor of the ornaments is so extremely nervous. Don't be afraid! Give me your hand! Why do you tremble so? I'll guarantee that there shall be no unpleasant consequences for you. In case, however, you did not receive this jewelry from your dear grandfather, I ought, I think, to write to the good old man and put his mind at ease by letting him know that I gave it you, as goodness only knows what Rumour may whisper in his ear."
Could any man have asked his wife for a confession more tenderly?
"Shall I write to him?"
"Yes, write," said Henrietta, and with that she fell upon her husband's bosom and began to sob bitterly—and a husband's breast is no bad place for a wife's flowing tears.
Henrietta was forced to confess to herself that her husband, at least so far as she was concerned, was a man of noble and tender sentiments. From henceforth she began to regard him through a glass of quite another colour; she began to believe that the faults she had noticed in him were only the usual bad habits of his sex, and began to discover all sorts of hidden good qualities in him. She began to love her husband.