el, when, exercising his rights as a
husband, he could punish both the man and the woman?

He did not hesitate long, however, but advanced to the gate, saying,
aloud:

"I have a right to enter my own house."

The ringing of the bell was answered by the barking of Duna, Bundas, and
Ortog, who tore furiously at their iron chains.

A man presently appeared on the other side of the gate. It was a
domestic whom Andras did not know and had never seen.

"Whom do you wish to see?" asked the man.

"The Princess Zilah!"

"Who are you?" demanded the man, his hand upon the inner bolt of the
gate.

"Prince Zilah!"

The other stood stock-still in amazement, trying to see, through the
darkness, the Prince's face.

"Do you hear me?" demanded Andras.

And, as the domestic opened the gate, as if to observe the appearance of
the visitor, the Prince gave it a nervous push, which threw the servant
backward; and, once within the garden, he came close to him, and said:

"Look well at me, in order that you may recognize me again. I am master
here."

Zilah's clear eye and imperious manner awed the man, and he bowed
humbly, not daring to speak.

Andras turned on his heel, mounted the steps, and entered the house;
then he stopped and listened.

She was with him. Yes, a man was there, and the man was speaking,
speaking to Marsa, speaking doubtless of love.

Menko, with his twisted moustache, his pretty smile and his delicate
profile, was there, behind that door. A red streak of light from the
salon where Marsa was showed beneath the door, which the Prince longed
to burst open with his foot. With anger and bitterness filling his
heart, he felt capable of entering there, and striking savagely, madly,
at his rival.

How these two beings had played with him; the woman who had lied to him,
and the coward who had sent him those letters.

Suddenly Marsa's voice fell upon his ear, that rich, contralto voice he
knew so well, speaking in accents of love or joy.

What was he waiting for? His hot, feverish hand sought the handle of his
pistol, and, striding forward, he threw open the door of the room.

The light from an opal-tinted lamp fell full upon his face. He stood
erect upon the threshold, while two other faces were turned toward him,
two pale faces, Marsa's and another's.

Andras paused in amazement.

He had sought Menko; he found--Varhely!

CHAPTER XXXIII. THE DUEL

"Yanski!"

Marsa recoiled in fear at hearing