"Now," he said to him, "you have no longer only a brother, my dear Varhely; you have also a sister who loves and respects you as I love and respect you myself." Yanski's stern face worked convulsively with an emotion he tried to conceal beneath an apparent roughness. "You are right to love me a little," he said, brusquely, "because I am very fond of you--of both of you," nodding his head toward Marsa. "But no respect, please. That makes me out too old." The Tzigana, taking Vogotzine's arm, led him gently toward the door, a little alarmed at the purple hue of the General's cheeks and forehead. "Come, take a little fresh air," she said to the old soldier, who regarded her with round, expressionless eyes. As they disappeared in the garden, Varhely drew from his pocket the little package given to him by Menko's valet. "Here is something from another friend! It was brought to me at the door of the church." "Ah! I thought that Menko would send me some word of congratulation," said Andras, after he had read upon the envelope the young Count's signature. "Thanks, my dear Varhely." "Now," said Yanski, "may happiness attend you, Andras! I hope that you will let me hear from you soon." Zilah took the hand which Varhely extended, and clasped it warmly in both his own. Upon the steps Varhely found Marsa, who, in her turn, shook his hand. "Au revoir, Count." "Au revoir, Princess." She smiled at Andras, who accompanied Varhely, and who held in his hand the package with the seals unbroken. "Princess!" she said. "That is a title by which every one has been calling me for the last hour; but it gives me the greatest pleasure to hear it spoken by you, my dear Varhely. But, Princess or not, I shall always be for you the Tzigana, who will play for you, whenever you wish it, the airs of her country--of our country--!" There was, in the manner in which she spoke these simple words, a gentle grace which evoked in the mind of the old patriot memories of the past and the fatherland. "The Tzigana is the most charming of all! The Tzigana is the most loved of all!" he said, in Hungarian, repeating a refrain of a Magyar song. With a quick, almost military gesture, he saluted Andras and Marsa as they stood at the top of the steps, the sun casting upon them dancing reflections through the leaves of the trees. The Prince and Princess responded with a wave of the hand; and General Vogotzine, who was seated under the shade of a chestnut-tree, with his coat unbuttoned and his collar open, tried in vain to rise to his feet and salute the departure of the last guest. CHAPTER XXII A DREAM SHATTERED