The General was deeply affected by these words. The heart of the iron man trembled. "Merciful God...!" "Old Hétfalusy had a stroke when the dreadful tidings reached him." "No, _no_! He did _not_ deserve so much suffering. Fate has been more rigorous towards him than he deserved." "And as if this were not enough--you knew Hétfalusy's son who became a soldier?" "I knew him. He was a hot-blooded youth, warfare might have made a good soldier of him." "Well, he quarrelled with his captain in Poland and fired a pistol at him." "A misfortune, a great misfortune," said the General, pressing his fists so tightly together that if there had been anything inside them it would have been crushed to pieces. "After this deed the youth fled." "That is worse still," murmured the General, and he pressed his iron fists still more violently together. "And if I am not mistaken, this is the third time that he has run away." There were now two beads of sweat on the General's forehead; he would have wiped it dry with his hand, but he could not, for his fists were firmly clenched, and it never occurred to him to open them. "My dear Cornelia," said he, "if you know where this young man now is, I implore you to tell me nothing about it. You know that I ought not to hear it." "You very soon will know all about it; the unhappy youth appeared in his father's house on the very day when his sister and her son lay in their coffins." "Then he has been arrested," cried the General quickly. "What makes you think that?" "Because his own father would be the first person to deliver him up." Cornelia regarded her husband with amazement. "Is it not so, I say?" he cried passionately, springing from his seat "Hétfalusy has given up his fugitive son, I'll swear he has, even if I had not been told it beforehand." "So indeed it is," said Cornelia sadly. "And how came you to know it before it has been officially reported to me?" "My uncle is a magistrate there, and he told me. He came from thence in his carriage, while the prisoner was being brought along on foot." "They are bringing him hither--hither to me," groaned the General impatiently and turning pale. "They will hand him over to me, and I shall have to pronounce judgment upon him." How he feared, how he shuddered at the thought! "You could not have told me a worse tale," resumed the General, turning to his wife, and supporting her tender little head against his bosom. "That is a sad, a very sad story." "But the end has yet to come." "Yes, and the saddest part of it is that the end of it is in my hands." "And to my mind it could not be in better hands."