Zudár kept conversing for a long time with Elise in the darkness, and assuring her that he should never go to sleep--nevertheless, suddenly, there was a deep silence, followed presently by a deep, thunderous snore, only interrupted from time to time by cries of terror, as if the sleeper were tormented by evil dreams, and at such times he would fling himself violently against the sides of the bed. The child did not sleep. Resting on her elbows she lay there listening and gazing steadily into the vision-haunted darkness. Presently it seemed to her also as if a large concourse of people was moving backwards and forwards along the wall outside, and a great deal of whispering appeared to come from the kitchen. Suddenly she heard a soft knocking at the door, and the voice of Dame Zudár inquired: "I say, Betsey! is your father asleep?" "Yes," stammered the little girl. "Some people have come hither from Kassa, they don't understand German, come out and speak to them!" The little maid hastily put on her clothes and, opening the fast-locked door, went out into the kitchen. * * * * * Peter Zudár was continually tormented by evil dreams. Danger to Elise was the ever-recurring subject of his nightmares. Now he saw her wandering among rocks overhanging dizzy abysses, and would have stretched out his hand to lay hold of her and draw her back, but his hand could not reach her. Now a fierce wolf was pursuing the child, and he would have run after it with a gun, but his legs refused their service, or he forgot where the gun was, or it refused to go off. Suddenly a shrill scream sounded in his ear. "Father!" Up he jumped. That cry had pierced through his heart, through every fibre of his body. It was Elise who was calling. "Elise! Elise, my child! are you asleep? Were you calling just now?" he inquired softly. Receiving no answer he turned towards the child's bed, which lay at the foot of his own, and sought for her little head on the pillow with his hand. She was not there. The same instant he heard the key of his room-door turning in the lock outside. With one bound he was at the door. Not a word did he say, but he shook the door till it trembled on its hinges. At that moment he heard hasty footsteps quitting the kitchen and the hall, and once more imagined he could distinguish Elise's stifled moans. Redoubled fury lent gigantic strength to his Sampsonian frame. The door burst into two pieces beneath the pressure of his hands, and the upper portion containing the lock remained in his clenched fist. He roared aloud for the first time as he rushed into the kitchen. It was no human voice, no intelligible sound, but the roar of a savage lion whose den has been broken into, and who scents the flesh of the huntsman. And in response to this savage roar there arose from the courtyard the mocking yell of hundreds and hundreds of human voices, intermingled with laughter, curses, and threats.