"I'm bringing your little deserter back," said her god-father, jestingly. "Don't be angry with her! Judge the case for yourself; she came upon me unawares with her cause, and who could withstand such pleading, eh?" The head-notary now understood. Father and daughter looked for a minute at each other, then the girl threw her arms round his neck. He kissed her forehead, and whispered: "You were the only one who could do it!" It was a consoling word for her. Yes, if everyone else in the world had the right to persecute and vex the prisoner, she, at least, had the equal right to protect and console him. She said nothing, but ran away into the kitchen. Their guest could hear that outside a hen was being killed, and guessed what was going forward. He stopped on chatting with Tárhalmy, so that Mariska should have time to fulfil her kindly task. When she re-entered the room, after half an hour's absence, her face was red, as if she had been standing over the fire--or was it some deeper cause? Her god-father patted her cheek, and promised to come again, as he took his leave. But he would not permit his host to accompany him, for he wanted to go and see the culprit for himself, so he made his way to cell number three. It was a pleasant spacious room, with two beds in it, as well as other furniture. There was no one else in it but Ráby. He was seated at the table, and eating a freshly cooked fowl, which he seemed to be relishing mightily. But when the governor entered, the prisoner rose, and was evidently anxious to show a brave front. "Your humble servant," murmured his guest, as he looked round the room. "Well, is your worship content with your new quarters, pray?" "As far as any man who is innocent of the crime whereof he is accused can be content with his prison," answered Ráby. "Ah well, that will be proved at the trial. But at least as long as the affair lasts you are well lodged here, I hope. Also you have something to eat, I see, and some clean linen." "I fancy my former serving-maid must have brought it for me from home. She was a very devoted servant." "Oh, you think it's she, do you? Well, there are other devoted people in the world who remember Mr. Ráby's needs, I fancy, as well. Books too, I see, and well-chosen ones. Well, there's a difference between this and your earlier lodging at any rate." Ráby felt the blood mount to his head, but he would not betray his resentment. "My arrest was a wholly unjust one," he said bitterly. "If no regard is shown to the Hungarian nobleman, at least, the imperial mandate should be respected." "So you think that the turn for the better your affairs have taken is owing to the Emperor's intervention, do you?" "I am convinced that his Majesty would not allow his devoted servant to perish," answered Ráby.