And do come as soon as you can my dear Henri;I am waiting impatiently for you.Besides, the country is magnificent, and this district in Lower Hungary is just the thing to interest an engineer. Were it only from that point of view, you would not regret making the journey.

Very Heartily Yours,

Marc Vidal

Thus ended the letter which I received from my brother on 4th April, 1757.

No premonitory warning marked the arrival of this letter, which reached mc in the usual way, by the successive interventions of the messenger, the porter and my valet, who, without imagining the importance of his gesture, offered it to me on a salver with his accustomed calm.

And I too was calm when I opened the letter and when I read it right to the end, right to these last lines which nonetheless contained the seed of the extraordinary events in which I was to be involved.

Such is the blindness of men!It is thus that, unknown to them, there is secretly woven the mysterious drama of their fate!

My brother was speaking the truth.I do not regret that journey.But am I right to describe it?Are there not some things regarding which it is better to keep silent?Who will put faith in so strange a story, which even the most daring poet would hardly have dared to write?

Well, so let it be!I shall run the risk.Whether I ought to be believed or not, I am giving way to an irresistible need to live once again this series of amazing events, to which my brother's letter forms, so to speak, a sort of prologue.

My brother Marc, then twenty-eight years old, had already obtained a gratifying success as a portrait-painter.The most tender, the closest affection bound us together.On my side, too, there was a little paternal affection, for I was his elder by eight years.While still young, we had been deprived of our father and mother and it had been myself, the big brother, who had undertaken to educate Marc.As he showed an amazing aptitude for painting.I had urged him into that career, in which he was to gain a well-merited success.

But here was Marc on the eve of getting married.For some time now he had been staying at Ragz, an important town in Southern Hungary.Several weeks spent at Budapest, where he had painted a number of successful and wellpaid portraits, had enabled him to appreciate the welcome which artists receive in Hungary.Then he had gone down the Danube from Budapest to Ragz.

Among the foremost families of the town was that of Doctor Roderich, one of the most renowned physicians in all Hungary.To a considerable inheritance he had added a large fortune gained in the practice of his art.During the holidays which he allowed himself every year and which he spent in travelling, the rich invalids deplored his absence.So did the poor, for he never refused them his services.nor did his charity disdain even the most humble, and this had gained him universal esteem.

His family consisted of the Doctor himself, his wife, his son Captain Haralan, and his daughter Myra.Marc had not been able to frequent that hospitable house without being touched by the young lady's grace and beauty, and this had greatly prolonged his stay in Ragz.But if Myra Roderich attracted him, it is not too much to say that he had attracted her.It will be agreed that he deserved it, for Marc was—thank Heaven he still is!—a fine charming fellow, somewhat about middle height, with lively blue eyes, chestnut hair, a poet's forehead, the happy expression of one to whom life offers itself in its pleasantest aspects, a friendly character with the temperament of an artist fanatically devoted to beauty.

As for Myra Roderich, I knew her only through Marc's impassioned letters, and I was burning with a desire to see her.My brother wanted no less to introduce me to her.He begged me to come to Ragz as head of the family, and he insisted that I should stay at least a month.His fiancée—he never stopped telling me—was impatiently waiting for me;and as soon as I arrived they would fix the wedding-day.But first Myra wanted to see with her own eyes, her future brother-in-law, whom he had extolled so highly in every way—that was really how she expressed herself, it seems!The least thing one can do is to be able to judge for oneself the members of the family which one means to enter.Indeed, she would not say the fatal yes, until Henri had been introduced by Marc.

All this my brother excitedly told me in his letters, and I could feel that he was head-over-heels in love with Myra Roderich.

I have explained that I knew her only by Marc's enthusiastic words.And yet, as my brother was an artist, he would have found it easy to take her as his model, and to send her on canvas, or at least on paper, in a graceful pose and clad in her prettiest dress.I would then have been able to admire her, de visu, as they say.But Myra would not agree.It was in person that she would appear to my dazzled eyes, declared Marc, who, I fancy, had not tried too hard to make her change her mind.What the two of them wanted was to get Henri Vidal to put his engineering on one side, and to show himself in the Roderich drawing-room as the first of the wedding-guests.

Did it take so many reasons to make me decide?Most certainly not, and I should not have allowed my brother to get married without being present at the wedding.Before very long I should make the acquaintance of Myra Roderich, and that too before she had become my sister-in-law.

What was more, as the letter had told me, I should find it both pleasant and profitable to visit that part of Hungary.This is above all the country of the Magyars whose past is so rich in heroic deeds, and who, refusing to mix with the German peoples, have taken a leading place in the history of Central Europe.

I decided to travel partly by post-chaise, partly down the Danube, on the journey out, and by post-chaise all the way when I came back.Everything showed the magnificence of this river, which I should follow only beyond Vienna.If I did not traverse the seven hundred leagues of its course I should see at least its most interesting part, across Austria and Hungary as far as Ragz, near the Serbian frontier.

It seemed to me that three months would be enough for the journey I had in mind.I would spend a month between Paris and Ragz;Myra Roderich would not be too impatient and would allow the traveller this delay.After a stay of the same length in my brother's new fatherland, the rest of the time would be devoted to my return to France.

After putting my urgent affairs in order and getting some documents which Marc needed, I made ready for the start.

My preparations were quite simple and did not take up much time, as I did not mean to load myself with luggage.I would only take one trunk, of reasonable size, containing the ceremonial attire necessitated by the solemn event which called me into Hungary.

I need not worry about the language of the country, having become familiar with German during my travels.As for the Magyar tongue, perhaps I should not find too much difficulty in understanding it.Moreover, French is spoken fluently in Hungary, at least among the upper classes, and my brother had never had any trouble on this account beyond the Austrian frontier.

‘You are French, you have a citizen's rights in Hungary, 'a nobleman had said to one of our compatriots, and in that cordial sentence he had interpreted the feeling of the Magyar people towards France.

So I wrote to Marc in reply to his last letter, begging him to tell Myra Roderich that my impatience was as great as her own, and that the future brother-in-law was burning with anxiety to know his future sister-in-law.I added that I was going to set out quite soon but that I could not be certain what day I would arrive at Ragz, that would depend on the chances of the journey.But I assured my brother that I would certainly not lag on the way.So if the Roderich family wished it, they could without further delay fix the date of the marriage, towards the end of May.

‘Please don't overwhelm me with curses, 'I ended, ‘if all my stages are not marked by a letter informing you of my presence in this town or that.I shall write sometimes, just enough to allow Mademoiselle Myra to estimate the number of leagues which still separate me from her home.But later on I shall tell you in good time the hour, and if possible the minute, when I shall arrive.'

On the evening of my departure, 13th April, I went to the office of the Police-Lieutenant, with whom I was on friendly terms, to bid him farewell and to get my passport.In giving it to me he loaded me with a thousand compliments for my brother, whom he knew by reputation and personally, and whose proposed marriage he had heard of.

‘I know too, 'he added, ‘that the family of Doctor Roderich, which your brother is going to enter, is one of the most honourable in Ragz.'

‘Somebody's mentioned it to you?'I asked.

‘Yes, only yesterday, at a party given by the Austrian Ambassador which I attended!'

‘And who gave you this information?'

‘An officer from Budapest, who had got friendly with your brother during his stay in the Hungarian Capital;he praised him very highly.His success was remarkable, and the welcome which he had received at Budapest he also found waiting for him at Ragz.That ought not to surprise us, my dear Vidal.'

‘But, 'I insisted, ‘that officer didn't spare his praise regarding the Roderich family?'

‘Surely not.The Doctor is a savant in every sense of the word.He is renowned throughout Austria-Hungary.He has received every distinction, and on the whole it is a splendid marriage that your brother's going to make, for it seems that Mademoiselle Myra Roderich is a very attractive person.'

‘You won't be surprised, my friend, 'I replied, ‘when I tell you that Marc thinks she is, and that he seems very much smitten with her.'

‘That's all for the best, my dear Vidal, and I would like you to convey my congratulations and my good wishes to your brother, whose happiness will be enough to make everybody jealous……but, 'my friend hesitated, ‘I don't know if I am committing an indiscretion……in telling you……'

‘An indiscretion?'I was amazed.

‘So your brother hasn't told you that a few months before he reached Ragz……'

‘Before he reached Ragz……?'I repeated.

‘Yes……Mademoiselle Myra Roderich……After all, my dear Vidal, it's possible that your brother didn't know about it.'

‘Explain yourself, my friend, because I can't see at all what you are driving at.—

‘Well, it seems—which ought not to surprise us—that Mademoiselle Roderich has already been sought after, and what is more, by a personage who, it seems, is not of the most estimable type.That, at least, is what my friend the officer told me;it happened five weeks ago, while he was still at Budapest.'

‘And this rival?'

‘Doctor Roderich showed him to the door.'

‘Well then, there's no need to worry about him.Anyhow, if Marc did know he had a rival, he's not mentioned it in his letters.Indeed, he hasn't said a word about it.So it can't be so very important.'

‘That's quite true, my dear Vidal, and yet the claims of this personage to the hand of Mademoiselle Roderich have made some stir in Ragz, and are maybe more important than you think.'

‘No doubt, and you've done well to warn me, so long as it's not mere gossip!'

‘No, the information is quite serious.'

‘But the matter isn't, 'I replied, ‘and that's the main thing.'Then as I was going.‘By the way, my friend, 'I asked, ‘did the officer mention the name of this rival who’s been shown the door?’

‘Yes, '

‘And he's called?'

‘Wilhelm Storitz.'

‘Wilhelm Storitz?The son of the chemist, or rather of the alchemist?'

‘Exactly.'

‘Well, that is a name!The name of a savant whose discoveries have made him famous.'

‘And of whom Germany is justly very proud, my dear Vidal.'

‘Isn't he dead?'

‘Yes, several years ago, but his son is still alive;and what's more, according to my informant, this Wilhelm Storitz is a disquieting sort of man.'

‘Disquieting?What do you mean by that, my friend?'

‘I don't know how to tell you, but, to believe my officer friend, Wilhelm Storitz isn't, like other men.'

‘Well!'I joked, ‘that's something really interesting!Has this lovesick swain got three legs, or four arms, or only a sixth sense?'

‘It isn't very clear, 'laughed my friend, ‘but I have to suppose that the term applies rather to the moral than to the physical condition of Wilhelm Storitz, of whom, so I am led to understand, it's as well to be wary.'

‘And we shall be wary, my friend, at least until the day when Mademoiselle Myra Roderich shall become Madame Marc Vidal.'

Thereupon, without otherwise troubling myself about this information, I exchanged a cordial hand-shake with the lieutenant of police, and went home to finish my preparations for my departure.