h the sun, the leaves of acacias and willows
lay still, and even the turbulent waters of the Maros seemed momentarily
hushed.

"Is that true, Andor?"

It was Elsa's voice that spoke, but the voice sounded muffled and dull,
as if it came from far away or from out the depths of the earth. Then,
as Andor made no reply, but gazed on Elsa in mute and passionate appeal,
like a man who is drowning would gaze on the shore which he cannot
reach, Klara said slowly:

"Oh! it's true enough. You cannot deny it, can you, Andor? You wanted
your revenge on me, and you wanted to be rid of Bela--you wanted Elsa
for yourself, but you didn't care one brass filler what would become of
me after that. You left me without a thought, lonely and unprotected,
knowing that a madman was prowling outside, ready to kill me or any man
who came along. You gave Bela that key, didn't you? . . . and told him
nothing about Leopold--and you didn't care what became of me, so long as
you got rid of Bela and could have Elsa for yourself."

"And now you have had your say, Klara," said Andor, breaking with a
mighty effort the spell of silence which had held him all this while;
"you have made all the mischief that you wanted to make. Suppose you
leave us alone now . . . Elsa and me . . . alone with the misery which
you have created for us."

Then, as for a moment she didn't move, but looked on him through
narrowed lids and with a sneer, half of pity and half of triumph, he
continued with a sudden outburst of fierceness:

"Well! you have had your say! . . . Why don't you go?"

Klara shrugged her shoulders and said more lightly:

"Oh, very well, my friend, I'll go. . . . Good-bye, Elsa," she added,
with sudden earnestness. "I don't suppose that you want to shake hands
with me--and I dare say it's no use asking you to think kindly of
me--but I wish you would try and believe that I am sorry I lost myself
as I did. I don't think that I ever would have told you if I hadn't seen
_him_ looking so happy and so complacent after the horrible, dirty trick
which he played me. People used to say that I had a good heart, but, by
the Almighty, I declare that I seem to have lost my head lately. That's
what I say, Elsa. It's all very well, but what about me? What had I
done?--and now, look at my life! But don't you fret about him or any
other man. Take my word for it, men are not worth it."

And having said that she turned on her heel and slowly walked away,
leaving beh