.

"Only almost?" repeated the dissatisfied Henrietta.

"So far the game is neither over nor lost."

"Did Fatia Negra appear at the hut in the ice valley?"

"Pardon, my lady, but please never mention that name before me, for on
hearing it everything I look upon grows red, and every limb of my body
begins to tremble. You see, my hands are trembling now. Let us speak of
him in future as the Unknown; so far as I am concerned he shall
henceforth be the Unknown for ever more."

"Then you met him there?"

"Suffer me, my lady, to rally my scattered wits a bit. Oh! what a
horrible night this has been! When I look back upon it, I feel giddy.
But anger and despair sustain me. Oh! what have I not sacrificed for
that man, for that devil, and oh! how I have been betrayed! But why
should I worry your ladyship with my misery! Listen to what happened.
When your ladyship left me the other night, I immediately saddled my
horse and set off for the ice valley. The way thither is very bad,
dangerous in fact, but fortunately the moon was high and bright and made
it easier for me to find the path. The Pole star was already sinking
when I reached the bottom of the valley, and I could see from afar that
there was a light still burning in the goatherd's little hut. The night
owls soon drove it out of my eyes, for in that valley dwells so many
owls, and they are so bold that the tips of their wings brush against
people's faces as they sweep past. I had known Mariora for a long time,
while she still lived at home with her father, but since she became Juon
Tare's wife we have only seen each other occasionally and at long
intervals, and then too only when I visited her, for she, the
poorly-married woman, never came to visit us--the rich people. On
reaching the hut, I tied up my horse and tapped at the little window,
through which one cannot peep as, instead of glass, the window-frames
are filled with opaque mica which Juon Tare himself discovered amongst
the hills. Mariora recognized my voice and hastened to unbar the door.
She was much surprised and much delighted to see me at that hour. She
embraced, kissed me, and burst into tears. At first I thought it was
from pure joy,--then I thought she pitied me. 'Is there anything wrong?'
I asked. Then she pulled herself together, dried her tears and said: 'I
have an invalid on my hands.'--'Your child?'--'No, Ursu.'--It was just
as if a viper had stung me.--'Ursu sick?' I cried.--'Yes, I don't know