The Prince gazed gloomily in front of him, his lips trembled. Then he turned his face round and shading his eyes with his hand, gazed away into the distance. On the same road by which he had come a cloud of dust could be seen rapidly approaching.
"Those are our pursuers," he moaned despairingly; "there is nothing for it but to die."
"Nay, my master. Over yonder is a mountain path which can only be traversed on foot. With worthy Szeklers or Wallachs as our guides we may get all the way to Poland through the mountains. Why not take refuge there?"
"And my wife?" asked the Prince, looking round savagely and biting his lips in his distress; "she cannot accompany me."
All this time Mariska had remained, benumbed and speechless, gazing at her husband—her heart, her mind, stood still at these terrible tidings; but when she heard that her husband could be saved without her, she plunged out of the carriage and falling at his feet implored him, sobbing loudly, to fly.
"Save yourself," she cried; "do not linger here on my account another instant."
"And sacrifice you, my consort, to their fury?"
"They will not hurt me, for they do not pursue an innocent woman. God will defend me. You go into Transylvania; there live good friends of mine, whose husbands and fathers are the leading men in the State; there is the heroic Princess, there is the gentle Béldi with her angel daughter, there is Teleki's daughter Flora—we swore eternal friendship together once—they will mediate for us; and then, too, my rich father will gladly spend his money to spare our blood. And if I must suffer and even die, it will be for you, my husband. Save yourself! In Heaven's name I implore you to depart from me."
Ghyka reflected for a moment.
"Very well, I will take refuge in order to be able to save you."