The Wallachian, who had stolen to the window, stood aghast with terror and, soon as the Decurio arrived, he ran to meet him, and related, with vehement gesticulations, how the girl had thrown herself into the peasant’s arms.

“And how did you know that?” asked Numa coldly.

“I saw them through the window.”

“And dared you look through my window?  Did I not forbid you?  Down on your knees, and pray!”

The Wallachian fell on his knees, and clasped his hands.

“Rebel! you deserve your punishment of death for having disobeyed my commands; and if you ever dare to open your lips on the subject, depend upon it, you shall not escape!” And with these words he strode away, leaving the astonished informer on his knees, in which posture he remained for some time afterwards, not daring to raise his head until the Decurio’s steps had died away.

As Numa entered the house, the lovers hastened to meet him.  For an instant or two he stood at the threshold, regarding the young man with a look of silent reproach.  “Why did you come so late?” he asked.

Imre held out his hand, but the Decurio did not accept it.

“The blood of your family is on my hand,” he whispered.  “You have let dishonor come on me, and mourning on yourself.”

The young man’s head sunk on his breast in silent anguish.

“Take his hand,” said Jolanka, in her low, sweet accents; and then turning to Imre, “He saved your life—­he saved us both, and he will rescue our family, too.”

Imre looked at her in astonishment.

The Decurio seized his arms and drew him aside.  “She does not know that they are dead,” he whispered; “she was not with them, and knows nothing of their fate; and I have consoled her with the idea that they are all prisoners, she must never know the horrors of that fearful night.”

“But sooner or later she will hear it.”

“Never! you must leave the place and the kingdom.  You must go to Turkey.”

“My way lies towards Hungary.”

“You must not think of it.  Evil days await that country; your prophets do not see them, but I know, and see them clearly.  Go to Turkey; I will give you letters by which you may pass in security through Wallachia and Moldavia; and here is a purse of gold—­do not scruple to accept it, for it is your own, it belonged to them.  Promise me, for her sake,” he continued earnestly, pointing to Jolanka, “that you will not go to Hungary.”

Imre hesitated.  “I cannot promise what I am not sure I shall fulfill; but I shall remember your advice.”

Numa took the hands of the two lovers, and, gazing long and earnestly on their faces, he said, in a voice of deep feeling, “You love one another?”

They pressed his hand in silence.

“You will be happy—­you will forget your misfortunes.  God bless and guide you on your way!  Take these letters, and keep the direct road to Brasso,[9] by the Saxon-land.[10] You will find free passage everywhere, and never look behind until the last pinnacles of the snowy mountains are beyond your sight.  Go! we will not take leave, not a word, let us forget each other!”