indeed a romance; and, what is more, a romantic romance. A romance which
has no resemblance to--you have invented the word--those brutalistic
stories which you are so fond of."

"Which I am very fond of, Baroness, I confess, especially when they are
just a little--you know!"

"But this romance of Prince Andras is by no means just a little--you
know! It is--how shall I express it? It is epic, heroic, romantic--what
you will. I will relate it to you."

"It will sell fifty thousand copies of our paper," gayly exclaimed
Jacquemin, opening his ears, and taking notes mentally.




CHAPTER III

THE STORY OF THE ZILAHS

Andras Zilah, Transylvanian Count and Prince of the Holy Empire, was one
of those heroes who devote their whole lives to one aim, and, when they
love, love always.

Born for action, for chivalrous and incessant struggle, he had sacrificed
his first youth to battling for his country. "The Hungarian was created
on horseback," says a proverb, and Andras did not belie the saying. In
'48, at the age of fifteen, he was in the saddle, charging the Croatian
hussars, the redcloaks, the terrible darkskinned Ottochan horsemen,