Had she ever, in her wildest flights of fancy, dreamed that she should hear one of the heroes of the war of independence, a Zilah Andras, supplicate her to bear his name?
Marsa knew Yanski Varhely.

The Prince had brought him to see her at Maisons-Lafitte.

She was aware that Count Varhely knew the Prince's most secret thoughts, and she was certain that Andras had confided all his hopes and his fears to his old friend.
"What do you think would become of the Prince if I should not marry him ?" she asked him one day without warning.
"That is a point-blank question which I hardly expected," said Yanski, gazing at her in astonishment.

"Don't you wish to become a Zilah ?" Any hesitation even seemed to him insulting, almost sacrilegious.
"I don't say that," replied the Tzigana, "but I ask you what would become of the Prince if, for one reason or another--" "I can very easily inform you," interrupted Varhely.

"The Prince, as you must be aware, is one of those men who love but once during their lives.
Upon my word of honor, I believe that, if you should refuse him, he would commit some folly, some madness, something--fatal.