For a few minutes after Jéza's exit from Leonin's box the arena was quite empty, save that two Moorish girls in Turkish costume were busy smoothing the sand,--a sign that an equestrian act was to follow. A knock was heard at the door of Leonin's box, and he went to open it. A servant stood without, bearing a letter on a silver tray. "What have you there?" asked Leonin. "A letter for the other gentleman, sir." "How did it come?" "A courier brought it, sir, with instructions to find the gentleman without delay, wherever he might be." "Fee the courier and send him away." Leonin took the letter and fingered it a moment. Its seal was black and its address was in a woman's hand. "Here is a billet-doux for you," said he, as he handed the letter to Ödön. "The Princess N---- sends you word that she has taken arsenic because you failed to claim her hand for the quadrille." With that he turned to the grating and drew out his opera-glass, as if resolved not to lose a moment of Jéza's impersonation of Mazeppa; but he added, over his shoulder, to Ödön: "You see, in spite of my precautions, we failed to cover our tracks. Oh, these women have a thousand-eyed police in their service, I verily believe. They have us watched at every turn." The overture began. At the ringing of a bell the blind musicians struck up the Mazeppa galop. Behind the scenes could be heard the barking of the dogs which, as a substitute for wolves, were to pursue Mazeppa as he was borne away, fast bound upon a wild horse's back; and the cracking of whips also sounded, arousing the horse to a livelier display of his mettle. Finally the beating of the animal's hoofs was heard, a loud outcry was raised, and Mazeppa's wild ride began amid cheers and hand-clapping from behind the gratings. "Oh, beautiful! Infernally beautiful!" exclaimed Leonin. "Look, Ödön, look! See there!" But what did he behold as he turned his head for an instant toward his friend? Ödön's hand was over his eyes and he was weeping. "What is the matter?" cried the other in amazement. Ödön handed him the letter without a word, and he read its brief contents, which were in French. "Your father is dead. Come at once. "Your affectionate MOTHER." Leonin's first impulse was one of resentment. "I'd like to get hold of that blockhead of a courier who brought you this letter. Couldn't he have waited till morning?" But Ödön arose without a word and left the box. Leonin followed him. "Poor fellow!" he exclaimed, seizing his friend's hand. "This letter came very _mal à propos_." "Excuse me," returned the other; "I must go home." "I'll go with you," was the hearty response. "Let those stay and see Mazeppa who care to. We promised that we would go with each other to hell, to heaven--and home. So I shall go with you." "But I am going home to Hungary," said Ödön. Leonin started. "Oh, to Hungary!" "My mother calls me," explained the other, with the simple brevity of one overcome with grief.