She laughed scornfully; not she but Michael was the prisoner.
"I know much—all," she replied; "enough to bring us all to perdition. Myself and the other, and you too."
Michael's blood froze in his veins. "Tell me all."
"That is what I came for. But listen quietly to the end, that I may tell you things which lead to madness, if not death."
"One word first, is Timéa unfaithful?"
"She is, and you will be absolutely convinced of it."
In Timar's heart a nobler feeling arose to protest against this suspicion. "Take care what you say!"
"Your saintly picture, then, came down out of its altar-frame to listen to a report which said that the noble major had fought on her account with some strange officer, and wounded him so badly that his own sword broke in two over the head of his adversary. The picture heard this rumor. Frau Sophie told her, and the eyes of the saintly image shed tears. Perhaps you are a heretic, and do not believe in miraculous tears. But it is true; and Frau Sophie told the noble major next day. Frau Sophie loves to be a go-between; she loves flattery and intrigue. The reported tears had the result that Frau Sophie brought back a box and a letter from the major. In the box were the half-broken blade and the handle of the sword with which the major had fought. It was a souvenir."
"Well, there is nothing wrong in that," said Michael, with affected calm.
"Ah, yes, but the letter!"