"How can you say that? Is not every member of the Hétfalusy family my personal enemy? If I could forget everything else, must I not remember that they have insulted you? Why, this very young windbag actually insulted you, you my wife, at a public assembly, and now Fate has cast him at my feet, him the last scion of the family, and I must be his judge and pronounce sentence of death upon him! The whole world will believe that I have gladly taken advantage of this grievous opportunity of revenging myself in the most bloody, the most exemplary manner upon my enemies! They will fancy that I condemn the son of my bitterest enemy to the gallows because I am thirsting for his blood. And you say it is well that it should be so!" "I said it and I will stick to it. I am quite confident that you will save him." "_I_ save him?" cried the General, opening wide his blue eyes with amazement; "it is impossible." "I believe that General Vértessy, that rigorous, inflexible man, whom his admirers and his detractors alike called 'the man of iron,' who has never relaxed the rule of discipline to favour friend or kinsman, will do everything in his power to make an exception for once in his life, and save the son of his enemy from the rigour of the law. Oh! I know this gentleman right well, I am confident that so he will act." "It is impossible, impossible; if he were my own brother I would not save him in his unfortunate position." "A brother you could not save, I'll allow; but this youth--oh, yes! I am persuaded that you will not be satisfied till you have devised some method of saving this unfortunate youth." And in saying this, she knew right well how to read the very depths of the heart and mind of the man of iron. The General impatiently quitted his wife's room, but the moment he had crossed its threshold, there was not a trace of impatience to be seen on his face. The orderly was still standing in the ante-chamber and, turning on his heels in the direction of the General, presented to him the sealed dispatch which he had thrust into his bosom. It was the official report of the arrest of the deserter. The General made a sign to the soldier that he might depart. Then the General returned to the room he had quitted, spread out the document in front of him, sat down over it, supported his head in his hands, and for a long, long time struggled with oppressive and wearying thoughts. CHAPTER VIII. THE POLISH WOMAN. "Who is at home here?" inquired a strong sonorous voice at the door of the headsman's dwelling, and immediately afterwards a shape huddled up in a grey mantle passed through the kitchen door. By the hearth were sitting Ivan and the woman of the house, it was a dark tempestuous night outside; it might have been about ten o'clock and every door was closed. The youth and the woman gazed stupidly at the stranger and said nothing.