"Is it possible they didn't tell you who the prisoner was that was to share your cell?" he asked. "I did not even ask," admitted Ráby, "who it might be." "Then I will tell you--his name is Karcsatáji Miska." "Gyöngyöm Miska?" "Don't make a mistake!" pursued the highwayman, "and think I let myself be taken: I am here solely through my own fault. It's a strange story, I'll tell you more about it later, I can't talk on an empty stomach!" And thereupon, he took out a big flask of brandy from a case, and produced some glasses and white bread, and called upon his companion to join him. But Ráby stood coldly aloof. He could not forget that before him stood the man who had so cruelly wronged him, the man who had been the chosen lover of Fruzsinka! All the manly pride of his nature revolted at the thought. Yet he could not help a feeling of satisfaction that the man for once had been judged on his deserts, and what those were, Ráby knew only too well. But that his rival should be thus sharing his prison and partaking the same fate--this was indeed a strange turn for events to take. When dinner-time came the highwayman knocked on the wall for the heydukes, who promptly responded to the signal, and hastened to serve quite a luxurious meal, but Ráby excused himself on the score of his dining at a later hour. His host did not press him, but so vigorously tackled the good fare, that soon the dishes were cleared completely. Ráby, the while, had leisure to meditate on the course events had taken. It gave an exquisite edge to his misery to be penned up in the same room with a man he hated. Yet such a man, since he was still keeping up apparently his relations with the world outside, could help him vastly, and would be a better prop to rely on than the gipsy-carrier: he had simply to give letters to the heydukes, and they would deliver them as bidden. Yet his better self revolted at the notion of being helped by Karcsatáji, for, in his inmost soul, he had nothing but the bitterest contempt for this highway robber, who had been the lover of Fruzsinka. No, he would receive no favours, were it liberty itself, from such a hand! CHAPTER XXXI. As soon as Karcsatáji had finished his meal, he turned to Ráby. "Are you inclined for a chat, Mr. Ráby?" he said, as he lighted his pipe. "Because if you are, this will be our chance to discuss the world in general, and our own corner of it in particular." "I am all attention," answered Ráby coldly. "You will be still more so when you hear my story, I fancy. We two are companions in adversity (only you have got over the worst of it), since we are both the victims of a worthless woman, curse her!" "I will not curse her," said Ráby quietly.