"You will be rewarded for this," gasped the wretched woman. "I shall not trouble you long, for I shall not live over to-morrow." And when Tárhalmy, having found a maid to wait on her, was leaving the room, she called him back to whisper: "I know you have a daughter you love dearly. Send her away immediately from this house, so she escape the contagion I have brought with me." Tárhalmy hastened to warn Mariska that she might go to the house of her aunt at Buda, and told her who the prisoner really was. But the girl was terrified at the thought of leaving Ráby, perhaps to starve, nor did she shrink at the idea of nursing Fruzsinka, but begged her father to let her remain at home, and tend the sick woman. But Tárhalmy would not let her carry her self-abnegation so far. Meantime, the doctor came, and deceived by the patient's symptoms, which seemed to him those of an ordinary fever, made a false diagnosis of Fruzsinka's case, and failed to recognise her malady for what it really was--the oriental plague, which was then raging in the near East. But the plague-stricken woman would not allow a soul to come near her, and refused all attempt at help or consolation, for she, being a Calvinist, would not even see the kindly Capuchin friar who came to offer his services. And Mariska was allowed to remain till the news of Lievenkopp's threatening mission determined her father to send her away. As for that officer's demand, it was, deemed Tárhalmy, a question to be settled by the Pesth tribunal, and the still closed door of the prisoner's dungeon would be the answer to the Emperor's mandate, whilst the prisoner himself, when it came to the execution of justice, should know who was master in Pesth! Surely Tárhalmy had good reasons for sending his daughter away. Thus was Ráby bereft of his guardian-angel, and so it came to pass that his evil genius, his wretched wife, lay dying in the room over his dungeon. But Fruzsinka's prophecy came true; she died the next day, and was promptly buried. No one mourned the dead woman, as no one had excused her. CHAPTER XLIX. The fateful day broke at last and found the Pesth authorities still in council; their vigil had lasted throughout the night. It was no light question to be decided: nothing less than the authority of the Hungarian constitution, and whether or not it should resist the armed force which menaced it. Many among them pitied the prisoner and deemed him guiltless in their own hearts, but the law had to be justified--at whatever cost--and Ráby's acquittal would have embodied the breach of that law. Thus it was that no voice was raised on his behalf, and his condemnation was a foregone conclusion. It was with difficulty the prisoner could stand, so exhausted was he; and when he looked in the faces of his judges, he found there no mercy.