“If I could think so. But I fear.”
“You need not fear now, dearest,” he said reassuringly.
“It is not for myself, but for you,” she returned. “Zarka is vindictive and cruel; he will never rest till he has revenged himself for his defeat to-night.”
“He is utterly discredited now,” Von Tressen urged. “When this is known he will be a criminal and a fugitive.”
“But a desperate one.”
“Perhaps. But you will not make me afraid of him.”
They had now reached the farm, and giving the astonished Harlberg in a few words an account of what happened at Rozsnyo, the four men made for the encampment, harnessed the horse, and pushed forward to the town. Having seen Prince Roel safely to the principal inn of the place, and leaving Galabin and D’Alquen with him, Von Tressen drove back to Gorla’s Farm.
All was quiet; there seemed to have been no further attempt on Zarka’s part, although, in his present desperate position, this had been far from unlikely. Securing his horse by the gate, Von Tressen kept watch over the place until well into the morning, when the inmates of the house were astir. Then he went in to talk over with Harlberg and Philippa the arrangements for their immediate departure from the forest. The General was in good spirits, rejoicing in his freedom to resume his real name and at the prospect of release from his exile, and quite content to accept the engagement between Von Tressen and Philippa, since the Count was now an impossibility.
After breakfast Von Tressen drove off to the encampment in order to have their things packed, as he intended to make the journey with Harlberg and Philippa. He had arranged to meet Galabin there, and as he drove up found his friend awaiting him.
The preparations for their departure were set about quickly. The servant, Bela, was busy filling a basket with cooking utensils while Von Tressen and Galabin were packing their valises inside the tent. Suddenly the light was intercepted. Both men turned quickly, to see standing in the entrance the figure of Count Zarka. His lowering face was hideously disfigured by a great dark swelling across the cheek and forehead; his eyes, notwithstanding that one was half closed, seemed to sparkle with hate, and the teeth were displayed in a set grin. Neglecting all his customary parade of salutation he stood there quite still, moving nothing but his lip as he said: