"Oh! take care no ill befalls you!"
"Befalls me!" cried the Prince, proudly smiting his herculean breast.
The lady flung herself on her husband's neck with the confidence of a child, and lifting from his head his saucy bonnet with its eagle plume, which gave him such a brave appearance, and smoothing down his curls, kissed his bonny face, and forgot all her thoughts and visions of the bygone night.
The Prince withdrew, and Mariska opened her window and looked out of it to see him mount his horse.
While the Prince was going downstairs, a dirty Turkish cavasse in sordid rags entered the courtyard, from which at other times he was wont to fetch letters, and mingled with the ostlers and stablemen without seeming to attract attention.
A few moments later the Prince ordered his horse to be brought in a loud resonant voice, whereupon the cavasse immediately came forward, and producing from beneath his dirty dolman a sealed and corded letter, pressed it to his forehead and then handed it to the Prince.
The Prince broke open the letter and his face suddenly turned pale; taking off his cap, he bowed low before the cavasse and saluted him.
O Prince of Moldavia! to doff thy eagle-plumed cap to a dirty cavasse, and bow thy haughty manly brow before him! Whatever can be the meaning of it all? Mariska's heart began to throb violently as she gazed down from her window.
The Prince, with all imaginable deference, then indicated the door of his castle to the cavasse and invited him to enter first; but the Turk with true boorish insolence, signified that the Prince was to lead the way.
Suddenly, in an illuminated flash, Mariska guessed the mystery. In the moment of peril, with rare presence of mind, she rushed to her secretaire, where her jewels were. Her first thought was that the cavasse had come for her husband; he must be bribed therefore to connive at his escape.