Agenor immediately informed Judith they would leave Borky the following day. She was ready, she answered, but their route must be through her native town. "Why?" "So I can beg my father's pardon." He started. The news of her father's death would certainly affect her keenly, and if she was once in the town the news of the marriage would be sure to leak out. So he entreated her to spare herself that excitement. "You know it will be useless; that he will never forgive the Christian." "I must try," she answered. "I owe it both to myself and to him. My father shall not think of your wife as a dishonored and light-minded creature. If he chases the Countess Baranowski from his doors, then at least my conscience will be clear." In vain he tried to dissuade her, without giving some plausible reason. Finally he conceived an idea which might avail. "The Countess Baranowski must not run a risk of being chased from any door," he declared. "You owe that to me." The effect of this speech was such that he repeated it, urging her to have regard for the honor of his name. She wept bitterly. "This is worth more to you than the peace of my soul." Yet she submitted, only begging permission to send a letter to her father. A few hours after she brought the letter, praying him, on his word of honor, to send it. "My word of honor!" he repeated, with pale lips. A few seconds after she had left the room he watched the letter shrivelling up in the fire, and he asked himself, "In what do I differ from those creatures I despise?" But, away, away! was his one desire, until he was in the carriage. Learning caution by the words of Wroblewski, he chose a way that took him out of the province quickly, going through Southern Hungary to Fiume, and thence by steamer to Ancona. What comforts money could secure they had. A courier travelled in advance, caring for everything. But, nevertheless, it was a dreary journey, over snowy roads and through barren, thinly populated mountainous districts, and no amount of money could make the miserable inns comfortable. The travelling was slow, not only because of the almost impassable roads, but also because of Judith's state of health. She was so weak and pale, and her thin face looked so tired and sad. "If we were only at Klausenberg!" she kept sighing. He had told her this was the place where they could first expect letters from home. When they were there, how could he comfort her for not having a letter from her father? Wroblewski wrote that Raphael had begun an action for abduction, and had bribed the judges to extraordinary energy. He hoped to pacify them, but it would demand great sacrifices. The count sent him the sum he demanded, but asked himself, nervously, "Will it do any good?"