"It is a bit difficult for my little girl to grasp, isn't it?" went on Tárhalmy kindly. "Unfortunately the Emperor does not understand how to deal with our constitution. For instance, the members of our governing body are chosen every three years, so that if any among them are proven to be unworthy of the office, they can be rejected at the end of their term. But the Emperor stretches his prerogative, and rules that these offices are to be held for life. And as long as he persists in tampering with our constitution and interferes with the existing order in the state, so long will Hungarians put every hindrance in the way of his emissaries. Nay, they would rather condone the misdeeds of corrupt officials than reach the hand of fellowship to an idealist like Ráby, who is inspired by a noble belief in the righteousness of his mission, and sincerely imagines he is going to free the people of this land from long-standing ills. That is why they make him suffer for his boldness, and will make him suffer yet more, if an evil chance brings him hither once again. He will find the anger of the entire nation aroused against him. Moreover, now that the whole nation is incensed with the Emperor for carrying on the war against the Turks with his Russian allies, and is refusing him both subsidies and recruits, it is less likely than ever to view those who carry out his reforms with favour. And meantime, we honest well-meaning folk who only desire to live at peace with God and our neighbour as Christians should do, have to stand shoulder to shoulder with rogues and vagabonds to protect our country's interests." The head-notary turned sadly away and left the room, and Mariska sunk into a silent reverie. Her father returning, suddenly put his head in at the door. "Are you quite sure, little one, that you understand all I have been saying?" he asked somewhat anxiously. "Father dear, I am going to write it all down straight away," returned the girl, "and may I send it to Ráby?" she added shyly. "You may if you like," whispered Tárhalmy, strangely touched at her request. And Mariska set about making herself a new pen in order to do justice to the projected document. CHAPTER XXXVIII. Mathias Ráby kept as far as possible out of Vienna society after his arrival in the capital. He never appeared at Court, and rented a modest apartment in Paternoster Street without giving his address to anyone. It was not only that he wanted to be undisturbed so as to fulfil a difficult and important work, but that he felt that a turning-point in his life had come, which implied a momentous decision on his part. His common-sense told him that so far the tragedy which he had lived through was only a huge jest for the Vienna public, who enjoy nothing so well as a joke. That the bold Magyars had played off this trick on the Emperor himself made the whole jest all the grimmer. For them it mattered not one jot who the victim was, as long as they had their laugh.