'Wanda, I am here!' said Vàsàrhely, softly, as he bent over her. She looked at him with eyes full of unspeakable agony.
'Is it true?' she murmured.
'Yes!' he said bitterly between his teeth.
'And you knew it?'
'Too late! But Wanda—my beloved Wanda—trust to me. The world shall never hear it.'
Her eyes had closed, a shiver ran through all her frame. 'Olga?' she muttered.
'She is in my power. I will deal with her,' he answered. 'She will be silent as the grave.'
She gave a long shuddering sigh, and her head sank back upon her pillows.
Vàsàrhely fell on his knees beside her bed, and buried his face on her hands.
'My violated saint!' he murmured. 'Fear not; I will avenge you.'