Front matter (continued 2)

"Yes, madam," said Rakoczy; "the tocsin is certainly sounding."

"The people have broken faith again," said she. "I wonder the prince stoops to treat with them."

"If you will permit me," said Rakoczy, "I will find out what is happening, and bring you a report. My friends will stay with you in case there should be danger."

This proposal was agreed to, and as soon as he had gone we moved to the back part of the building, from which the southern part of the city could be seen.

It was plain that the terrible struggle had recommenced. To the clanging of the great bell were added the sharp fire of musketry, the heavier booming of the cannon, and the shouts of the combatants.

Suddenly, from the direction of the imperial stables, came a flight of shells and a line of fiery rockets, which fell hissing and sputtering on the doomed houses.

It seemed as if the horrors of the twenty-eighth were to be repeated. The flames from the burning buildings illumined the sky in several different parts of the town, and we anxiously awaited the return of Rakoczy to learn the reason for these strange doings.

It was one o'clock when he came back, and by that time the firing had ceased.

"It is all over now," he said. "The imperialists are in possession of the gates, and are disarming the National Guard. This last fight was a mistake. The leaders gave no orders for it; but the people grew excited, said they were betrayed, and, rushing to St. Stephen's, sounded the tocsin. Of course that set all the hot heads in motion, and very soon they were at their posts on the barricades and the bastions. Windischgratz replied promptly, as you would observe, and the magistrates, hoping to stop such a senseless fight, took the keys of the city to him on the glacis. The troops are working hard to put out the fires, and I think the Viennese have seen the last of their insurrection."

"It will be rather awkward for the leaders," I remarked, thinking of the handsome young captain.

"They are like eels," said the baroness spitefully, "and will manage to wriggle out of it."

"If they are half as clever as Captain von Theyer, they will be in no danger," exclaimed Theresa. "He will persuade his judges that everything he has done has been for the emperor."

"A tongue of silver is a very good gift, sometimes," observed Rakoczy.

"I should think a steel blade would be of more importance to a soldier," retorted Stephen.

"It cannot do half as much mischief!" cried Theresa merrily. "But, are you going?" for my brother had risen.

"It is necessary," he answered, with the quiet, half-pathetic smile peculiar to him. "You do not need us longer; your friends are at hand. We, on the contrary, have to seek ours."

"Which means you are about to join the ranks of our enemies?"

"We are Hungarians, and should be disgraced if we stood idly by while our countrymen fought for liberty."

"I suppose you are right," said the baroness; "but it is a great pity. However, I hope the conflict will be short; and though I must wish for the success of my own side, I trust that God, who watches over each of us, will bring you safely through the fight."

"We shall never forget what you have done for us," said Theresa softly, and her proud eyes strongly suggested tears.

We wished them good-bye; and even when in the street I, for one, looked back to catch a last glimpse of the pretty fräulein as she waved her hand from the window in farewell.

"And now for Hungary!" cried "The Joyous," "though I fear we must travel afoot: horses are not to be had for love or money."

"We can walk," replied my brother. "I have had more than enough of Vienna."

"I believe George is sorry at leaving the pretty Austrian."

"And her mother," I added, trying to make a laugh of it.

At this "The Joyous" smiled, saying I was a hypocrite, and that it would be well to take me away with all speed.

The streets were filled with soldiers, both Croats and Austrians, so we felt little surprised at finding a party of the latter drawn up near the house in which we lodged.

There were two or three trifling articles belonging to us in our rooms; so, while Stephen settled accounts with the proprietor, Rakoczy and I ran upstairs. My brother shortly rejoined us, the things were packed in a small handbag, and we were ready to depart, when some one knocked at the door.

"Come in!" cried I briskly, and an officer in the Austrian service entered.

"I extremely regret my errand," said he pleasantly; "but duty is duty, and you must consider yourselves my prisoners. Feeling sure you would not care to make a scene, I have left my men in the street. You have simply to give your parole not to attempt an escape, and I shall not use force."

"Very kind of you!" exclaimed Rakoczy. "But isn't there some mistake?"

The officer took a paper from his pocket.

"Stephen and George Botskay and John Rakoczy," he said, and proceeded to read descriptions of our persons--accurate, indeed, but expressed in very flattering language.

"Come!" laughed "The Joyous;" "after that it will be uncivil to refuse our parole."

"And quite useless," I added in Hungarian. "If we escaped the officer, we could not leave the city."

"What do you say, Stephen?"

"Surrender is a poor way of beginning a fight."

"So it is!" laughed our companion; "but, as your brother remarked, we can't help ourselves. The question is, Shall we walk to prison as gentlemen, or be dragged there as criminals? So, by your leave, I'll take advantage, in all our names, of the offer we have received."

Our captor, who was certainly a very polished gentleman, did all he could to soften the blow.

Very few people noticed us as we walked towards the infantry barracks, where we were to be detained till further orders.

The officer did not know the reason of our arrest; but he assured us the victors were acting mercifully, and, unless our fault had been extremely grave, we need not fear.

At the barracks the soldiers offered us no indignities, which was in striking contrast with their treatment of some students brought in at the same time, whom they loaded with abuse and even struck.

They looked on these enthusiastic youths as the authors of all the mischief, and to a certain extent they were doubtless right.

Our prison was a small, square room with whitewashed walls, bare of furniture, but having benches round the sides.

"Well," said I in disgust, "what are we to do now?"

"Go to sleep, and dream we are in Pesth," replied Rakoczy, lying down on one of the benches.

Stephen paced backward and forward restlessly.

"I don't understand it at all," he observed. "Why have they arrested us? What can we be charged with?"

"Depends upon who our accusers are," answered Rakoczy. "It is plain that some kind friend has denounced us by name to the Austrian general."

At once I thought of Count Beula, but John shook his head.

"I think not. The count owes us a grudge, but he will pay his debt in Hungary, not here. My idea points to a different man altogether--a clever and unscrupulous fellow, who has no wish to see an Austro-Hungarian alliance."

He looked meaningly at Stephen, who nodded.

"Don't speak in riddles!" I exclaimed irritably. "Tell me in plain words what you think!"

He clapped me on the back, and after indulging in a little good-humoured chaff, explained that in his opinion we owed our arrest to Captain von Theyer.

"It's this way," he continued, laughing at my surprised looks. "There's no doubt that the captain cares a good deal for the pretty Theresa. It is equally certain that he has no friend in the baroness."

"Well?" I said.

"Don't be impatient. I'm coming to the point. Had this insurrection proved successful, Von Theyer would now be a very important person, and his influence worth securing, even by the powerful Baroness von Arnstein. Unluckily for him, it has fizzled out like a damp squib; so he has seized the first opportunity of making his peace with the victors."

"What has that to do with us?"

"Much. For one thing, he thus shows his zeal in the cause of the imperialists. In the second place, he would not be too pleased at finding how friendly we had become with the fräulein."

"Do you mean the fellow is jealous of us?" I said, blushing crimson.

"Of me," replied Rakoczy, curling his moustache and looking very grave.

I half suspected he was quizzing me, but could not feel quite certain, till I caught him winking at Stephen, when they both laughed.

"The jest won't prove quite so pleasant if we're locked up till the end of the war," I said; but of that Rakoczy had no fear.

However, we had spent several tedious days in our temporary prison, when one morning a party of soldiers came to escort us to the general, who was inspecting the barracks.

Prince Windischgratz, attended by several members of his staff, was in a room in the officers' quarters.

He was a noble-looking old man, dressed in full uniform, with his breast covered by medals and ribbons--mementoes of many hard-fought campaigns. His face was mild and humane, but the firm chin and the latent fire in his eyes showed that he could be severe when necessary.

Addressing us in a mild voice, he asked us how it happened that we were found in Vienna with arms in our hands.

Rakoczy was about to reply when Stephen forestalled him, which I regretted, as my brother was not remarkable for the calmness of his language.

"Before answering that question," he said hotly, "we have a right to know by whose authority three peaceable travellers have been arrested like criminals, and deprived of their liberty."

Several of the officers uttered angry exclamations, but the prince smiled good-naturedly.

"There is some difference between peaceful travellers and armed rebels," said he; "and you are suspected of being the latter."

"It is false!" retorted my brother flatly.

"Appearances are against you. You were seen at the bridge of Tabor, and at least one of you is supposed to have joined in the disgraceful murder of the noble Count Latour."

"Hungarians are not assassins," said Stephen coldly.

"The friends of Count Lamberg speak differently," interrupted one of the officers with a bitter sneer.

"You are ungenerous, sir, to taunt the Hungarian nation with the crime of a handful of ragamuffins," I said.

"Yes, yes," exclaimed the prince; "but that is not the point. Can you deny the charges made against you?"

Stephen glanced round him indifferently; he would not deign to answer, and I followed his example.

Rakoczy, however, still smiling and confident, spoke for all.

"You have asked a question, prince," he said, "and you shall have a reply, though it may not be to the liking of some of these gentlemen. We were all three present at the attack on the bridge, and when your general fell, I by main force prevented my friend Stephen Botskay from throwing himself single-handed against the rebels. As to the murder of Count Latour, George Botskay risked his life time and again to save him, not from Hungarians, but from Austrians. Do you see this wound?" and he bared his arm. "That was done by an Austrian pike. Would you know why that gallant lad's head is swathed in bandages? Ask your fellow-countrymen, prince. The answer will show you that not Hungary alone harbours assassins."

"Talk is cheap," sneered the officer who had spoken before. "Why, that very fellow was at the first barricade in the Prater!"

"Is that so?" asked the prince.

"Yes," said Rakoczy simply; "I was there."

"Which many a poor fellow had reason to be thankful for," I interrupted. "More than one man in your ranks to-day owes his life to John Rakoczy's bravery."

"At this rate, your highness, it will soon appear that the town was captured by these heroes," chuckled a grizzled veteran.

I concluded that the speaker was of high rank, as every one laughed at his remark, as if he had said something witty.

They were still enjoying the joke when the door opened and another officer entered the room.

He was a man past the prime of life, with grey hair and white moustaches, but alert, strong, and vigorous. His sight was keen, his bearing martial, and the deep scars of two wounds long since healed bore witness to his courage as a soldier.

His entrance attracted notice, and the prince himself stepped forward to greet him.

The others withdrew a little way, leaving the two chiefs together, and they immediately began talking very earnestly. From time to time they both looked at us, and gradually a pleasant smile spread over the prince's face.

At length the conversation was finished, and the prince, turning to his staff, said,--

"Gentlemen, we owe these brave Hungarians an apology for our suspicions. Instead of aiding the rebels, they have acted in a very noble manner, and to them Baron von Arnstein is indebted for the lives of his wife and daughter.--Baron, these gentlemen are no longer our prisoners; I wish they could be counted amongst our friends."

"That would follow naturally," said Rakoczy, "if every Austrian were a Prince Windischgratz."

"I cannot accept the compliment; it would be unfair to my brave colleagues," the general replied. "However, I can thank you all three for your generous behaviour, which I do most heartily."

We replied in the same spirit, and, accompanied by Baron von Arnstein, left the room.

That nobleman could with difficulty restrain his emotion; he thanked us twenty times while crossing the barrack square, and urged us repeatedly to return home with him. I should have liked this famously; but Stephen was anxious to leave the city, and I did not wish to thwart him.

Accordingly, after our weapons were restored, it was agreed that the baron should conduct us through the Austrian lines. He had only heard of his daughter's rescue that morning, and, knowing there were three prisoners bearing the same names as those mentioned by his wife, had immediately hurried off to Prince Windischgratz.

"I do not ask where you are going," he said, as we passed through the city gate into the ruined suburb, "but I could wish that your steps pointed westward rather than to the east."

"Perhaps it will be as well not to tell you," replied Rakoczy with a smile; "but if ever you need a friend in the Hungarian army, let one of us know."

"It is a terrible business, but we at least must not quarrel. Still, I cannot understand why you and gallant lads like these should be so eager to fight for a republic. I should have thought you were royalists to the backbone."

"So we are," said Stephen promptly. "Royalists and loyalists too, if the emperor will but grant our rights."

"What do you think, then, would happen, if by any means the war should end in your favour?"

"We should force the emperor to restore our constitution, and then return to our allegiance."

"Shake hands all round," said Rakoczy genially.

The baron shook his head.

"Pardon me," he said; "but I am getting an old man, and years bring experience. You deceive yourselves, or rather, have had dust thrown in your eyes. Kossuth and his friends are not fighting for a restored constitution, but to make Hungary a republic. Victory on your side will mean an exchange of Ferdinand the king for Kossuth the dictator."

"Then," exclaimed Stephen sternly, "defeat will be more welcome than victory, for, if what you say be true, the land will swim in blood. Here are three royalists whose forefathers drew the sword for Maria Theresa, and there are scores of thousands like us."

"You will hear our armies join battle to the cry of 'Long live Hungary and King Ferdinand!'" said Rakoczy. "We don't want a republic."

This talk of the baron's, so like what we had before heard, set us thinking, and it was in rather a sad humour that we crossed the Austrian or rather imperialist camp.

The baron saw us in safety to the farthest outpost, where we stopped to wish him farewell.

"Good-bye," he said kindly. "I cannot pretend to hope your armies will prove successful, but from my heart I wish you personally good-luck in your venture. Our people will do you no harm, except to make prisoners of you; but mind the Croats--they are rather bloodthirsty, and not over well disciplined."

We thanked him for his advice, sent back a friendly message to his wife and daughter, and then set out on our journey.

"A fine fellow," remarked Rakoczy, throwing a glance back. "I hope we shall never meet him in a charge."

CHAPTER VI

HARD WORK AT PESTH.

"Rakoczy! Not dead? Where did you spring from? Vienna? Been helping the prolétaires? No? Then you must have been plotting treason with the imperialists. But come into my tent. Who are your companions? I can see they are true Magyars. Sons of the late General Botskay?--Welcome, my lads! Your name alone would draw a welcome from any Magyar in the country."

A tall man, plainly dressed in the uniform of a major of Honveds, having a strong, wiry, but spare frame, his hair cut quite close to his head, sharp eyes--their light half hidden behind spectacles--his face hard and weather-beaten, with a reddish undergrowth of beard; such in appearance was Arthur Görgei, who was to become, without exception, the most famous general in Hungary.

From Vienna we had journeyed to Presburg, and thence to Raab, following the Hungarians, who were moving back on Comorn, and overtaking them at Raab.

Rakoczy, who had known Görgei in private life, immediately inquired for the general, and we were conducted to him.

"Haven't any refreshments to offer you," he continued, when we were inside the tent; "but never mind--somebody has."

He went to the opening, and we heard him say,--

"Here, Sturitz! Borrow me a bottle of wine or two, and some glasses.--So, old fellow, you've been watching the fight? Didn't you long to join in? How did the good citizens like to see our retreat from Schwechat?"

"Not at all. They were dumfounded. They couldn't believe it possible that the Hungarians were running away."

The general clapped the speaker on the back, and laughed with the most frank good-humour.

"Run!" he exclaimed; "that word tells nothing! They rushed headlong over one another; they threw away what weapons they had and vanished. Moza was in chief command, and he sent me with a brigade to attack Schwechat. We were a mile and a half from our supports. Windischgratz sent his horse-artillery at us, and, heigh, presto! the brigade was gone. Out of nearly five thousand I saw only one man, and he was an old soldier on the sick list."

"But what did the other brigades do?"

Görgei pushed up his spectacles and looked at us with a twinkle.

"The other brigades? The supports?" he said. "Oh, they took to their heels before my fellows did; but they'll all make capital soldiers after a few months' drill. Here comes Sturitz with the wine, and we'll drink their healths."

"Capital chap, this Sturitz, to send borrowing," remarked Rakoczy, sipping his wine. "He brings good stuff."

"And, better still, forgets where it came from, so that he can never repay it. So, my lads, you've come to join the army? Well, there's one thing; your father's sons will never show the men how to run away."

"One moment, general," said Stephen. "Can you tell me what we're supposed to be fighting for?"

Görgei looked from my brother to Rakoczy, who said,--

"In truth, general, things seem a little bit mixed. Over in Vienna they talk as if we wanted to set up a republic."

"A republic?" cried Görgei. "What stuff! Haven't they read history? Don't they know that Hungary is royalist to the core? Why, if the king came to this camp, the men would carry him shoulder high from one end of it to the other. Why, at Schwechat they ran away to the cry of 'Long live King Ferdinand!'"

"That ought to be proof enough," replied Rakoczy, laughing, "and I'm glad to hear it; because, like these lads, I've no idea of spilling my blood in order to make Kossuth dictator."

"You're going to fight, my dear fellow, and not bother your head about politics. First, though, there's a lot of work to be done. We want ammunition and stores of all sorts, and, as much as anything, we want soldiers; we've plenty of men."

"You aren't going to turn me into a drill-sergeant?"

"I am though. 'Right! Left! Keep your heads up there! Close up on the right!' That will be your work for the next week or two, while I dodge about here, and make Windischgratz believe we're burning to fight."

"Where am I to go?"

"Pesth, with the rank of major. Tedious work you'll find it, and no glory either; but you'll do more good there than marching and counter-marching with me. Now, as to these lads. Which is it to be--a showy uniform or downright hard grinding?"

"Take them on your staff," suggested Rakoczy. "They'll get both then."

"Haven't room for more than one."

"Let that be Stephen," I exclaimed promptly.

"Take George. He is the better horseman," said my brother.

"Toss for it!" cried the general, taking a coin from his pocket; "but don't stick to this bit of silver. I keep it as a curiosity; it's almost the only one in the country."

The spin of the coin decided in favour of Stephen, and it was accordingly settled that he should remain with the army, while I went to Pesth as a lieutenant of Honveds.

We had drunk another glass of wine to the success of the coming campaign; and Görgei, having made out the necessary papers, gave Sturitz orders to furnish us with horses.

Then, with kindly thought, the general took Rakoczy outside, leaving me to wish my brother farewell.

It was the first time in our lives we had been called on to separate, and the parting was a sad one to both of us; but we made a fine show of good spirits, and talked confidently of seeing each other again in a few weeks.

"There's Sturitz with the animals," said Stephen, as the clatter of horses' hoofs sounded outside the tent. "Well, good-bye, dear old fellow."

"Don't be too venturesome," I replied, and returning the pressure of his hand, followed him to where the general stood with Rakoczy.

"Here you are, George," cried the latter gaily. "Thanks to the chief, we start the war on horseback, however we may finish."

"Remember," said the general, "drill, drill, drill, and plenty of rifle practice."

"We'll bear it in mind, general, and teach the fellows how to hit a windmill at least.--Now, George, up you get," and he swung himself into his own saddle with the ease of a practised rider.

Glancing back, I saw Stephen waving his cap, and Görgei with his hands behind his back and his head bent forward, already plunged in deep thought.

The weather was bitterly cold, and the roads were abominable; but we rode thoroughbred Magyar horses, which carried us at a rattling pace.

I was, in truth, rather miserable at leaving my brother; but the crisp, keen air, the sharp gallop, and the merry spirits of my companion soon chased away my melancholy.

"Wonderful man, Görgei," he said, when the horses, having settled down to a slower pace, made talking possible. "Kossuth did one good thing in giving him a high command. Hard as iron, and a born soldier."

"Has he ever seen service?"

"Only for a short time as a lieutenant in the bodyguard. But he has a spirit which nothing can break, an energy that never tires; and he can endure as much fatigue as any man in the country. I knew him and his brothers when they were youngsters; in fact, we were boys together. They were in good circumstances, but their mother brought them up to live hard. They learned early to take the rough with the smooth, and to laugh at hardships. They never felt the cold in the bitterest winter, and when the rain soaked them through, why, they just got dry again."

"Where are the others?"

"Don't know; but wherever the hardest work's to be done, you may be sure. Stephen will find his job tougher than ours."

"It will please him the more. By the way, I wonder if Count Beula escaped from Vienna?"

"Most likely. Bern did. Görgei told me they smuggled the Pole out, shut up in a coffin. That's how the story runs, whether true or not; but, at any rate, Bern's in Transylvania with 25,000 good fighting men."

"It's very good of the Poles to help us, but I'd rather see a Hungarian army led by a Magyar chief."

"So would I. Still, we ought not to grumble with the bridge that carries us over the stream."

Sound advice, no doubt, though it scarcely satisfied me, and I was to think a good deal more about it before the campaign finished.

The journey to Pesth passed without incident, as we were amidst friends; and the morning after our arrival in the city we began our new duties.

As the general had stated, there were numbers of men willing and eager to join the army, but they were without weapons, except hay-forks and such like implements, and had not the faintest notion of military drill.

However, they were enthusiastic, and if not patient, at least tractable; so their instructors hoped to make something of them before long.

The drill-ground was the great plain or field of Rakos, behind the city, which in olden days was the meeting-place of the Diet, when our Magyar forefathers, attended by their vassals, assembled to discuss the affairs of the nation.

Once again the place was filled with men who had come together in thousands--ploughmen, carters, shepherds, miners--not to talk, but to learn how to fight the enemies of their country.

To a military veteran the spectacle must have afforded ample food for fun and amusement. Rakoczy laughed without stint.

Thousands of men, grouped in small detachments, were going through the elementary steps--men drawn from all parts of the kingdom, and dressed in every conceivable style, but for the most part true Magyars.

Here a peasant, in loose black linen shirt, black trousers, embroidered waistcoat, and gay-coloured jacket, wearing gaiter boots and a large-brimmed Spanish-looking hat, jostled a neighbour in a sheepskin coat, with a hat made of rushes, and huge sandals on his feet.

Here one saw a group of hardy fellows arrayed in embroidered petticoats and kalpags--the national caps, made of fur and adorned with feathers; there, men from the south with broad felt hats, leather girdles, gatya or full white linen trousers, and shirts that scarcely reached to the waist.

In one respect, however, they were all alike--they were dreadfully in earnest and bent on learning their new trade.

It was early morning when we went out to the Rakos; the sun had set when we returned to the city.

All day long we had been hard at work drilling one squad after another, till our limbs ached and our throats were parched as the crater of a volcano.

Rakoczy soon threw off the feeling of fatigue, and after dinner strolled with others of the officers into the town; but I was thoroughly tired, and slipped off to bed.

Certainly Görgei spoke truth when he described the work as tedious and without glory; but it had to be done nevertheless, and for several weeks the unceasing toil continued.

There was little variety in our lives just at that time. We went out in the morning, drilled the recruits all day, and returned at night tired as dogs.

Early in December we learned that the emperor had abdicated in favour of the young archduke, Francis Joseph, that Prince Windischgratz was almost ready to march, and that Jellachich had already started.

Though hearing nothing of Stephen, I did not feel uneasy, as thus far Görgei had only made a show of fighting to delay the enemy's advance while we were shaping an army.

From the second week in December every day brought a rumour of some sort, which we had more leisure to talk over, as the darkness made late drill impossible.

Rakoczy and I spent Christmas Day in marching with a batch of passed recruits to a small village situated several miles from the city, where a body of troops had been stationed.

The weather was simply detestable. First it rained in torrents, then it snowed, and the snow froze before reaching the ground, and, but for the bundas or overmantles in which we were wrapped, we should have perished on the march.

To add to the charm of the situation, the guide mistook the route, and we wandered about for several hours, stiff with cold and hollow from hunger.

When we did reach the village, the welcome from the troops made us forget the discomforts of the journey; and as our duties ended in handing over the fresh soldiers to the commandant, we spent the evening very agreeably with the officers.

The next morning, before starting for Pesth, we learned that Görgei, having abandoned Raab, was falling back on the capital, and that General Perczel was being hard pressed by the Croats under Jellachich.

Two or three days later the news came of Perczel's defeat at Moor, and a message from Comorn announced that Windischgratz had summoned the fortress.

Görgei was now manoeuvring to join the remnants of Perczel's army, in which he afterwards succeeded; but the news of these disasters caused great consternation in Pesth, and the members of the Diet determined to remove the seat of government to Debreczin.

On the last day of the year 1848, crowds of old men, women, and children left the city, and my heart ached, as I watched them toil painfully onwards, to think of the terrible march that lay before them.

However, as the man in Vienna had said, rose-water and kid gloves go ill with revolutions; but I wished it was possible to lift the burden from the shoulders of those so ill fitted to bear it.

That same night a grand reception was held in the palace of Count Szondi, and as invitations had been sent to all the officers still in the city, Rakoczy and I went.

I have often thought since of that magnificent spectacle. The brilliant uniforms of the soldiers, the sparkling eyes of the beautiful Magyar ladies, who were all dressed in the national costume, the ruby velvet dolmans of the wealthy citizens, the gorgeous dresses of the nobles, the brilliant lights from burnished chandeliers, the handsome furniture, the rugs of ermine and sable, the masterpieces of famous Hungarian artists hanging on the walls in heavily-gilded frames, the incessant sparkle and play of diamonds as the guests glided hither and thither, presented a scene that one does not easily forget.

Hitherto my time had been so fully occupied that I had not been able to seek out old friends, and now most of them had departed; but here and there I saw a familiar face and heard a voice that recalled to me the joys of bygone days.

Chief amongst the guests, and surrounded by a group of distinguished men and beautiful women, stood a remarkably handsome man, above the average height, straight, and of a fine athletic build.

His black, curly hair hung over his shoulders, his well-trimmed beard covered his breast. The manly expression of his face and the fiery glow in his eyes formed a true index to his bold, headstrong, and enthusiastic nature. He looked fit to be, as he was, the leader of the Magyar nobles who had taken up arms against the Austrian oppression.

This was Count Louis Batthiany before the evil days, alas! so soon to come, fell upon him.

Towards midnight there arose a great stir in the crowded assembly, a movement of feet, a craning of necks, a low hum which quickly swelled in volume; and turning round I saw that another distinguished visitor had entered the room.

Watching his almost royal progress through the brilliant throng, I thought of the words spoken by Baron von Arnstein, and looked on coldly.

But though, unlike the majority of my fellow-countrymen, I had early been prejudiced against Louis Kossuth, I have no wish to deny his marvellous and almost superhuman gifts.

A true Hungarian, he loved his country with fond affection; but his views were not mine, and even in those days I thought him wrong.

A man of medium height and wiry frame, he passed through the crowded room with dignified carriage and grace of movement. The paleness of his oval face was very striking, and his high, open forehead betokened keen intelligence. His eyes were blue, and though naturally dreamy, they often flashed fire; his eyebrows were dark and thick; and over his chestnut hair he wore a wig. He had a small, well-formed mouth, fine teeth, firm, round chin, and delicate white hands with tapering fingers like those of an artist.

He wore a plain Honved uniform, over which was thrown a grey mantle.

The count stepped forward to meet him, and the two talked together earnestly, but in low tones.

"Kossuth is a great man!" exclaimed a portly civilian standing near us.

"True, friend!" replied Rakoczy, with his ever-ready smile, "but Hungary has no lack of great men; they grow as thick as robinias in the gardens."

"Kossuth is a splendid talker."

"Right again, friend," said my companion dryly. "His eloquence has created the raw material which Görgei will fashion into an army. Some talk, some fight; let each man stick to his trade."

"I hope," said the citizen mildly, after a glance at our Honved uniforms, "that Görgei will be able to make something of you."

Rakoczy laughed so heartily that several people turned to discover the reason of his mirth, and we thought it best to move away from the mild-mannered but caustic civilian.

Soon after this Kossuth left, taking Batthiany with him, and the rest of us moved into the large banqueting-hall, where refreshments had been laid.

At the last stroke of midnight Count Szondi rose, and a great hush fell on the brilliant assembly as the old noble with his venerable white locks faced us.

"Magyars!" he said, and the veteran's voice was firm and clear as a bell, "the year is dead; we do not mourn it. The new year is born, and with it a glorious future for Hungary. The Magyar is in arms; let those beware who seek to thwart him. Magyars, let us drink to the prosperity of the sacred fatherland."

The words were few and simple--the speaker was no orator; yet, as he raised the brimming glass to his lips, a fit of wild enthusiasm seized every man and woman in that spacious hall.

The men cheered again and again till their voices were hoarse; the women joined in the plaudits, their eyes sparkling, their cheeks aflame with excitement. Handkerchiefs fluttered and ribbons waved in the air; the scene became indescribable.

An officer said something, I know not what, but the next moment Rakoczy was at the farther end of the room, mounted on a chair.

The sight of his handsome face arrested attention; the hubbub gradually died away. Profound silence followed. The people, thinking he was about to speak, listened eagerly.

I have mentioned that Rakoczy had a magnificent voice, but until that night I had not even dreamed of its power.

The lights, the wine, the beautiful faces of the Magyar ladies, the martial aspect of the men, the stirring excitement of the time, the dangers surrounding our beloved country, the knowledge that thousands of our comrades were in arms against the foe, all helped to enhance the effect, but much was due to Rakoczy himself.

We stood, I repeat, motionless as statues, gazing at him, when suddenly there issued from his throat, echoing and re-echoing through the hall, the first notes of the National Hymn.

We held our breath; tears were in the eyes of some; half-choking sobs came from the throats of others; bosoms heaved and cheeks burned like fire; men, unable to restrain their emotions, clinched their hands till the finger nails dug into the palms.

Loud and clear the martial notes rang out. They spoke to our hearts; they called us to battle, to death if need be, in defence of our fatherland.

We hung upon them breathlessly. Our hands unconsciously gripped the hilts of our swords. The hot blood tore through our veins. We heard nothing, were conscious of nothing, but the glorious Magyar hymn whose notes throbbed in every fibre of our bodies.

The first verse was finished, and as Rakoczy began the second every voice joined in. The restrained excitement had burst its bonds like the Danube in flood. It could no longer be held back; it was bound to find a vent, and it found it in song.

I know little of music, but grander music was never heard than that in the banqueting-hall of Count Szondi when the year 1849 was born.

As the last notes died away, the cheering was frantically renewed. Women sobbed openly, and there were few men iron-nerved enough to hide their emotion.

Then, with a ringing "Elijen Szondi!" in honour of our host, we broke up and passed singly or in groups into the street.

The night was dark and dreary, snow lay thick on the ground, a storm of frozen sleet hurled itself into our faces, and the bitter cold made us shiver beneath our fur-lined mantles.

"A wonderful contrast this," I exclaimed, setting off with "The Joyous" and several other officers for the barracks.

"As great as that between Hungary united and Hungary divided against itself," replied one of them.

"Or as that between Batthiany and Kossuth," suggested Rakoczy, after which we lapsed into silence.

CHAPTER VII.

A FIGHT IN THE MOUNTAINS.

"George!"

I had not been in bed an hour, and it was quite dark, when Rakoczy's voice wakened me from a sound sleep.

"Turn out and dress quickly," he continued. "We are ordered to Waitzen; the men are under arms."

"All right," I replied sleepily, and tumbling out grazed my shins against an iron box.

"Drawn blood already?" Rakoczy queried with a laugh. "What a desperate fellow you are!" and as he went away I heard him still chuckling to himself.

After a vain attempt to dress in the dark, I procured a light, and having made a hasty toilet hastened to the officers' messroom.

Several men were already there, scalding their throats with boiling coffee, and eating the next two or three meals before starting--a very good plan, too, as experience soon taught us.

As Rakoczy rightly said, on a campaign there is nothing like being a day in advance of your proper meals. Passing me a cup of steaming coffee and pointing to the eatables, he exclaimed, "Fall to, Botskay. There's no ceremony this morning."

"Morning?" cried a youngster who, having burned his throat, was glad to give vent to his ill-humour. "You don't call this morning? Why, I hadn't got to sleep before they woke me up again. Why didn't they tell us before, and save us the trouble of tumbling in?"

"Don't know," replied Rakoczy innocently. "Ask some one else."

We were laughing at Rakoczy's pretended simplicity, when another man, coming in, said,--

"Jolly, this, isn't it? It's as black as pitch outside, and hailstones the size of walnuts are falling. Anybody know what it's all about?"

"Which? The hailstones or the blackness?" asked Rakoczy.

"This sudden turn-out. A pity we hadn't stayed at Szondi's a couple of hours later."

"I heard a rumour that Görgei had sent a messenger to say he was retreating with the Austrians on his heels."

"He should imitate the horses and kick out behind."

"I expect he will show fight at Ofen."

"With a crowd of peasants? Not likely. His best plan is to fall back."

"What an oversight that the general didn't put us on his staff!" said Rakoczy. "We could have given him a lot of useful information."

"There's the bugle, gentlemen! Ach!" as some one opened the door; "what a blast!"

I wrapped my mantle round me closely, took another pull at the hot coffee, and went into the barrack-yard.

Two or three hundred men were drawn up in waiting. They were to convoy a huge store of food and ammunition to Waitzen.

Rather to my disgust, I found that Rakoczy and I were to look after the carts, and a wretched time of it we had.

For several hours we trudged along in the blackness of the night, while the hailstorm beat down upon us in fury.

The roads were execrable, and frequently we were compelled to stop while the teamsters got their animals out of the holes into which they stumbled.

This first spell of active service was hardly to my liking, and even upon reaching Waitzen things were very little better.

However, a merry heart is a golden cure for most ills, and it was not easy to be miserable where Rakoczy was.

He laughed at everything, found amusement in the storm, made light of the bitter cold, professed that half a dinner was better than a full one, and that he preferred to sleep on the floor, because there was no chance of falling out of bed.

After waiting two days at Waitzen we learned that Görgei, by a sharp manoeuvre, had joined hands with Perczel, and that the Austrians were marching into Pesth.

Many of us had wondered at being sent with stores to Waitzen, but now we began to understand something of our leader's foresight.

Leaving the main army to retreat behind the Theiss, Görgei, making a great show with his scanty numbers, turned north to join us, and this drew the bulk of the Austrians on his own track.

Amongst the first of the advance-guard to arrive at Waitzen was my brother Stephen; and though he had little leisure for conversation, the meeting did us both good.

He was looking a trifle thinner, but in good health, and related with much glee his experiences with the general. According to his account, he lived almost entirely in the saddle, slept at odd times where he could, ate what he could pick up, and had not once taken off his clothes since we left him.

Of the general he spoke enthusiastically.

"Görgei never gets tired," he said. "He is made of iron, and can do without sleep. As to riding, I never saw any one like him. After a day's hard work he'll jump into the saddle and ride to the outposts at full gallop on a pitch-dark night and in the stormiest weather. At first I used to ache in every muscle, but I'm getting used to it. Now I'm off to Kremnitz."

For several days longer we remained at Waitzen picking up recruits from the north, and then moved on towards Kremnitz.

Rakoczy and I had been regularly appointed as major and lieutenant in the 9th Honved regiment, the men of which were well equipped and in fairly good spirits.

The recruits had brought our numbers up to about twenty thousand; and, leaving Kremnitz, we marched in a south-west direction to make Windischgratz believe we were striking at Vienna. In this we succeeded, and thus prevented the Austrian general from crushing our main army, then in full retreat to Debreczin, behind the Theiss.

Having accomplished his object, Görgei once more broke fresh ground, and led us into the mountains, in order to draw off a part of the Austrian force, and, by a round-about route, to rejoin the principal army.

I was certainly serving a rough apprenticeship to the trade of war.

The roads were covered with ice, the valleys were piled with snow through which we had to force a passage, sometimes being sunk in it almost to our arm-pits; and as we stumbled along, huge avalanches thundered down the rocky cliffs that on either side overhung our path.

The majority of the soldiers, having newly joined, lost their spirits, which made the officers' work much harder; but we kept them going somehow, and struggled up and through the narrow defiles with the Austrians in our rear, and, for aught we knew, in front as well.

At the beginning of the last week in January, the frost broke up quite suddenly, and the narrow valleys were flooded by water, which swept through the gorges, carrying with it great pieces of floating ice.

As our regiment led the way, we were the first to bear the brunt of this new danger.

"Steady, men!" cried Rakoczy. "Plant your feet firmly on the ground and lock arms, or you'll be carried away."

The men responded instantly, but for a long time they could make no headway against the torrent.

Again and again we led them forward, but each time it was only for a few paces.

The noise of the rushing waters, the blows from detached pieces of ice, the difficulty of securing a foothold, told on the men's nerves, and kept them from fronting the danger.

The colonel stormed, Rakoczy begged and prayed, taunted them with cowardice, mocked at their fears, and called them frightened children--all in vain; forward they would not go.

The general himself tried, and failed to put heart into them. Then he whispered something to Stephen, who, with a smile, turned and disappeared.

Suddenly there came a shout from the rear, feeble at first, but rapidly increasing in volume.

"Push on! Quick! Quick! The Austrians are on us! The enemy! The enemy!"

The greater danger swallowed up the less. The very dullest recruit could understand what would happen if the Austrians attacked us in that horrible defile, and in a short time we were boldly striding through the torrent. Those who would have lagged behind were dragged on by their companions; and so, fighting, pushing, struggling, shouting, we won our way bit by bit till we had safely passed the most dangerous places.

However, the Austrians did not put in an appearance; and when I asked Rakoczy what had become of them, he laughed gaily.

"Gone back to where they came from, most likely!" he said.

"Where's that?"

"Görgei's brain."

"What? Was it simply a trick?"

"Ask Stephen when you get a chance; he ought to know."

"And I've been expecting every minute to see the blaze of their guns from the heights!"

"Wait till we get nearer the summit; that's where the real danger lies. The Austrian Schlick is coming down post-haste from Galicia, and he's a tough fighter."

Three days after this conversation the truth of these words was brought home to us in a very striking manner.

Görgei, who, as usual, was in advance, had sent forward his scouts. A few light guns, which by incredible labour had been dragged up the defiles, came next, and were followed by the 9th Honved regiment.

Several other regiments followed at intervals, while the others were ascending by different routes, keeping in touch, however, with the main body, and all converging on one pass, which it was hoped the Austrians had not seized.

Unfortunately, Schlick had been too quick for us, and the scouts returned with the information that the mouth of the pass was blocked by huge boulders, behind which a formidable body of troops with heavy guns was stationed.

The regiment halted; Görgei went to reconnoitre, and at once the artillery were ordered to advance, with the 9th in support. The men were weary and footsore, half-starved, numbed with cold, depressed by this everlasting retreat, and I doubted very much if they were equal to the work in front of them.

Suddenly the great guns thundered out, and our own replied; the unequal artillery duel had begun.

We moved up steadily, and the sharpshooters, running forward and getting whatever cover they could, picked off the Austrian gunners.

Our own artillerymen worked their pieces bravely, but were altogether overmatched.

The place must be taken by storm, and the assault fell to the share of the 9th.

I thought of the barricade in the Prater, and remembered how I had pitied the brave fellows who had thrown away their lives in the attempt to carry it.

Now I was in a similar position, and my heart beat quickly as I stood there waiting for the word of command.

The men, for the most part, looked downcast, as if they did not enjoy the prospect, and indeed it was a terrible trial for young troops.

Rakoczy's handsome face lit up with his usual smile as he nodded to me pleasantly.

At length the artillery fire on our side ceased, the word rang out, the regiment moved forward.

The order was that no man should stop to fire; but our fellows were not veterans, and it was disregarded.

Still, considering that hardly one of us had been under fire before, we did not do so badly.

Görgei gave us a cheer as we passed the staff; Stephen waved his hand to me, and we were gone.

Into the mouth of the pass we rushed, so close to the great boulders that we could distinctly see the muzzles of the black guns.

"Forward!" cried the colonel, waving his sword.

"Forward!" echoed Rakoczy, still smiling; and we ran with such speed that the first discharge checked only those who fell.

The second threw us into some disorder. The colonel was killed outright by a cannon-ball, but Rakoczy took command and led us on gallantly.

We had, however, lost many men; and when, for the third time, the iron balls tore through our ranks, the survivors would have no more of it.

Back they went helter-skelter, tumbling over one another in their eagerness to seek shelter, Rakoczy's orders being unheeded in the stampede.

The attack had hopelessly failed, and it was plain to all that the bravest troops would only be thrown back crushed and bleeding from that lane of death.

The check was a serious one. To turn the position by another pass would cause a delay of several days, which might ruin the whole cause, for we did not know that Windischgratz was still in Pesth.

The artillery duel began again, while we re-formed our ranks and looked about us gloomily.

On our right and left huge precipices, covered with ice and snow, towered skyward.

If only it were practicable to scale them, we might yet drive the Austrians out.

I could not keep my eyes from the cliffs, nor dismiss the idea from my head.

Fifty good shots perched up there could pick off every artilleryman who stood by the enemy's guns.

There were numerous mountaineers in the regiment, and I myself had always been reckoned a good climber.

I had just escaped death; but unless some other plan was discovered, Görgei would fling us at that barrier until those who survived--if there were any--did get over. In fact, he could not help himself.

And if death came while I was scaling the cliff, why, the result was no worse than if it met me in the narrow path.

I went to Rakoczy and told him what was in my head.

Just for an instant he turned pale, and the smile left his face, but he soon recovered his composure.

"There are a hundred chances of death in fifty yards," he said, "and a thousand when the Austrians see the dodge."

"There are five thousand in front of us," I answered. "Still, that isn't the point. Will you give me an axe and leave to go?"

"I wouldn't order or even ask you to try; but if you're bent on it--"

"It may save hundreds of lives."

"Then I'll borrow you a hatchet, and call for volunteers."

He turned to the regiment. "I want twenty men fond of mountain-climbing to go on a little excursion with Lieutenant Botskay."

More than half the regiment stepped to the front, and, selecting a score, I told them what we were going to do.

The major sent for some hatchets, and then informed Görgei, who instantly dispatched a cloud of sharpshooters to distract the enemy's attention.

Unbuckling my sword, I gave it to Rakoczy, and, in case of accidents, wished him good-bye.

Stephen had been sent on an errand by the general, and I was rather pleased than otherwise by his absence; the knowledge that he was below, gazing up at me and trembling for my safety, might have preyed on my nerve.

My twenty men--all muscular, wiry fellows--laid aside their rifles, and, axe in hand, stood ready to mount.

Fifty of the finest marksmen waited beneath the cliff, ready to follow in our track if we should find or cut a path, and to protect us from the enemy's fire.

Meanwhile, the sharpshooters at the front, snugly sheltered behind rocks and boulders, discharged their rifles incessantly, and, without doing much damage, kept the Austrians well employed.

Our starting-point was a ledge, to which we were hoisted on men's shoulders, and which was so narrow that we could barely preserve a footing.

A hum of sympathy rose from the ranks as I cut the first notch; but for the fear of attracting attention it would have been a roar of cheering.

Rakoczy had said truly there were a hundred chances of death in fifty yards. The cold was so intense that several times the hatchet was within an ace of slipping from my fingers; and once, while attempting to hang on by a jutting ledge, I must have rolled over but for the man behind me. The first part of the journey we did in single file, and of course each climber made the way easier for the next one, so that it became possible for Rakoczy to send on the soldiers with rifles.

Up in the pass our light guns had been partly silenced; but the sharpshooters were busy firing as fast as they could load, and so making the Austrians believe that another assault was to be delivered.

To this end, also, the 9th Honveds had been drawn up and placed in position, but out of the line of fire, as if they were only awaiting the support of the next regiment in order to charge.

We had reached an immense wall of ice, perpendicular, smooth, and of almost unbroken surface, and I was regarding it with dismay, when the man behind me exclaimed, "To the right, lieutenant! There seems to be a tiny path; we can creep round."

There was a tiny path indeed, so narrow that we had to press against the wall like flies, and I doubted the wisdom of attempting to pass.

"It will get wider, sir; and once round, the rest will be easy."

I gave one last thought to my friends and put my foot on the ledge.

In spite of the ice and snow and the bitter, freezing wind I was hot enough now--so hot that my body was bathed in perspiration.

Placing the fingers of my left hand in a small crevice, I cut a little nick farther on, and thus, step by step, made my perilous way.

Half-way across I was seized by a fit of terror, and clung to the wall helplessly like a frightened child, not daring to move, hardly, indeed, to breathe.

Something had unnerved me; I scarcely knew what. There had been a rasping of ice, a sound as of slipping feet, a groan of anguish promptly suppressed, and I felt as if the angel of death had lightly brushed me with his spreading wings.

The sound of an unfamiliar voice brought me to my senses. A man was speaking, but it was not Szemere, the one who had up till now been my close attendant.

"Hold tight, sir. Szemere has gone over--missed his footing."

I shuddered to think of the poor fellow's awful fate, but, strangely enough, the knowledge of it restored my courage. I ceased to tremble, braced myself up, and cut another notch. Down below, the unequal fight was being waged in the pass. We could hear the roar of the heavy guns, the sharp, crisp rattle of the musketry, the shouts of the combatants, while we hung like a line of flies to the face of the cliffs.

At length, with every muscle strained, with aching limbs, with scratched face, and bleeding fingers, I cut the last notch, and stood in comparative safety.

The next man, a light, wiry fellow, he who had told me of Szemere's death, cut the notch deeper, and as he did so the axe slipped from his nerveless fingers and went clattering down the abyss.

The brown of his face turned to a greyish-white colour; his legs tottered; his teeth knocked together; his hold loosened; in another second he would be gone!

I never could clearly understand what happened then. I remember dimly that my arms were locked round the fellow's waist, that our bodies were swaying to and fro, that by force of instinct I used all my strength to swing backward.

In this I must have succeeded, for presently I found myself lying on the flat of my back, still hugging the soldier. A pull at my flask of silovitz set me right, and then I forced some of the liquor into the mouth of my companion. Directly the poor fellow recovered from his stupor he knelt and kissed my hands, saying gratefully,--

"My life is yours, sweet master. Mecsey Sándor is your servant for ever and ever."

We in Hungary adopt the plan of placing the surname first; English-speaking people would call the man Sándor or Alexander Mecsey.

Several of the others now joined us; and, as the dead Szemere had foretold, the most difficult part of the journey was past. We were no longer compelled to march in single file, but could spread out, and thus allow the riflemen to follow closely.

Now walking upright, now crawling on our hands and knees, we drew near to the Austrian position, when a volley from the enemy showed they had discovered us.

Bidding my men lie low, I drew a small flag from my pocket, and, standing proudly erect, waved the glorious red, white, and green colours to the breeze.

The men of the 9th greeted the flag with a tremendous shout, which went echoing and re-echoing up the mountain sides. The Austrians fired fast and furiously, but in their excitement they aimed badly.

We with the axes, of course, could do nothing more, but the riflemen, taking shelter, poured in a terrible fire, against which the enemy were powerless.

The men at the guns went down one after another; and every minute our fire became more severe, as Rakoczy continued to feed us with fresh volunteers.

The Austrian chief made a gallant effort to reach us, and we saw his white-coated infantry helping each other to scale the smooth walls.

The attempt proved vain, as it was bound to do. The men slipped and scrambled, fell, and rolled to the bottom--many to lie there for all time.

Those who climbed highest were greeted by the bullets of my hidden marksmen; and though the white-coats advanced with their wonted bravery, they struggled and died in vain.

So plain was this that the leader, while still maintaining a brave show against Görgei, began to draw off his troops, and from our vantage-place we watched them sullenly retire.

Very slowly and steadily they went, while we, springing to our feet, cheered again and again.

Down below, our comrades secured the abandoned post, leaving the next regiment, which had suffered hardly at all, to pursue the enemy.

It was a trying task to descend, especially as we had several wounded men to carry, but the knowledge of victory cheered our spirits; and at length, with the loss of only two or three men, we reached the pass.

How our regiment cheered as we ranged ourselves to receive the general! He stood fronting us, his head bent forward, his hands behind his back as usual.

"Gallant lads, one and all," he said; "yours is to-day's victory."

We answered with an "Elijen Görgei!" and when he departed, the men of the regiment crowded round to congratulate their comrades.

As for me, the "Well done!" of Rakoczy, who was now colonel, and Stephen's warm embrace, were sufficient reward; but Görgei thought otherwise, and I, who had entered the pass as a simple lieutenant, left it as a captain.

CHAPTER VIII.

A DRAWN BATTLE.

The taking of the pass, described in the preceding chapter, was the first really stubborn affair we had been engaged in, but during the remainder of the journey the enemy attacked us many times.

Soldiers have told me that, from a military point of view, the march was a brilliant one, and that it stamped our leader as a most accomplished general.

To us it was exceedingly wearisome and distressing. We had very little food, and that the coarsest. Our boots were dropping to pieces, our uniforms were in rags and tatters. Often we forced a passage through ice and snow knee-deep. Frequently the fog enveloped us so thickly that a man could not see his neighbour, and that in a place where a false step meant death.

At night our bivouac was the snow-covered ground, where, wrapping ourselves in our bundas, we tried to forget our misery for an hour or two in sleep.

In addition, the Austrians gave us plenty of employment in the fighting line, especially near the summit, where they occupied the passes in force.

However, as Görgei had resolved to reach Kaschau, to Kaschau we had to go; and by dint of climbing and fighting we at length forced the mountain barriers, and began the descent of the valleys.

During the march I saw Stephen scarcely at all, but Rakoczy and I were constantly together; and my friend more than ever justified his old name of "The Joyous."

The hardships of the journey had no terrors for him. He appeared warm in the bitterest cold, and when every one else was soaked through, he, to judge by his smiling face, was dry and comfortable.

He joked with the men on their troubles till the poor fellows almost began to believe they were grumbling about nothing.

"Cold?" he would say. "Nonsense! Why, you're glowing as if you'd just come from a vapour-bath. Footsore? I wouldn't like to challenge you to a race for a hundred gulden. Andras, how pleased you'll be when the war's ended to say, 'I went over the mountains with Görgei.' Your neighbours will never let you pay for a bottle of silovitz all the rest of your life. 'The cosiest seat in the inn for Andras,' everybody will say. 'He is a warrior, if you like.' Why, the maidens won't dance with another man in the room while you're there. Look at Janko," as a burly fellow shot head foremost into a snowdrift. "I'll warrant he expects to find something good in there. Lucky fellow, Janko!"

Sometimes he would start one of the fiery, soul-stirring, popular songs, when the whole regiment, joining in and forgetting all else, would swing along quite cheerfully.

At night, while we lay on the snow-covered ground, our teeth chattering with the cold, he would amuse the officers by his glowing descriptions of the mountains in the summer-time.

"The noblest mountains in the world!" he would say with enthusiasm. "It is a treat to saunter through the miles of beautiful pine forests, or to gather the lovely gentians and forget-me-nots, blue as if they had dropped from heaven, or to linger by the edge of some boulder-wrapped lake, and gaze into its clear green waters. In the early morning, when myriads of dewdrops sparkle and flash like countless diamonds, and the sun paints the cliffs with warm gold and crimson and purple hues, the place is like paradise. Then to stand on the summits and gaze over the fruitful plains, yellow with ripening grain--ah, I tell you it is a treat to wander amongst the Carpathians!"

Then some one would point out in a jesting spirit further delights to be enjoyed--the splendid mists, which drenched us to the bone, and prevented us from seeing the frightful chasms, down which we might tumble; the bitter cold, but for which we should not appreciate the comfort of our bundas; the slippery ice, which provided us with endless fun and a cracked head occasionally.

Gradually we would drop off into a restless sleep, and in the morning pinch ourselves hard, to discover if our limbs still had any feeling.

The march towards Kaschau was marked by a series of desperate fights with the troops under the Austrian general Schlick.

Sometimes they took up a favourable position, which it cost the lives of many brave men to capture; sometimes, creeping quietly through the darkness, they made an attack just when, wearied out by the toils of the day, we had fallen asleep.

The last of these assaults was of a very determined nature, and for a time had every chance of succeeding.

We were within a day's march of Kaschau, and had covered many weary miles since the morning.

A thick fog had come up with the night--so thick, indeed, it was that it closed us in like a curtain.

Most of the men fell asleep directly they lay down, and very soon there was not a sound to be heard in the camp.

Towards midnight I was awakened by a wild shouting, and springing to my feet, found that the Austrians were in the midst of us.

The fight that ensued was of the weirdest kind. In the darkness friend could not be distinguished from foe, and many a man lost his life by sword or bayonet thrust without seeing the hand that struck the blow.

Rakoczy's voice kept his regiment well together, and owing chiefly to the steadiness of the 9th Honveds the Austrians were finally repulsed.

Like ghosts they had come, like ghosts they vanished; and but for the groans of the wounded, we might have regarded the whole affair as a bad dream.

However, for the officers, at least, there was no further rest; and though the men went to sleep again, we were kept busy doubling the sentries, restoring order, and seeing after the poor fellows who had been hurt.

Very glad we were when morning came; and having eaten our breakfasts, which occupied little time, we set out for Kaschau.

I think Schlick's daring venture must have cost him dear; at any rate we saw no more of the enemy, and in the evening arrived, footsore and hungry, at Kaschau, where an army corps under General Klapka met us.

Rakoczy pointed out the general to me, and said that, next to Görgei, he was the finest soldier in the army.

In figure he was rather short, but exceedingly well shaped, and he had the oval face, black whiskers and moustache, and fiery, dark eyes of the true Magyar.

His features were refined, his manners those of a high-born gentleman, and his expression was so mild and gentle that in private dress he would hardly have been taken for a soldier.

Yet so brilliant was to be one, at least, of his exploits that his name will live for ever in the memories of his Magyar comrades.

At Kaschau we remained several days, both in order to recover from our fatigue and to obtain a fresh supply of ammunition, as the men had almost come to their last cartridge.

From Kaschau we proceeded to Mischkolz, where Dembinski joined us with another army; and here, to our disgust, we learned that the Polish leader had been made commander-in-chief.

"That's Kossuth's idea," said Rakoczy, "and very badly he'll find it work."

Stephen, who at last had found time to spare an hour with us, was very indignant.

"A Magyar army has no need of a Polish general," he exclaimed, "especially when it counts such men as Görgei and Klapka among its leaders."

"The Pole is a republican," I remarked, thinking of the talk at Vienna. "Görgei is a royalist."

"And his proclamation did him little good with the Kossuth party."

Rakoczy here referred to the address our general had published, in which he declared his army "would oppose itself to all those who may attempt by republican intrigues in the interior of the country to overthrow the constitutional monarchy."

"If Görgei held up his little finger, the army would sweep Kossuth and his Poles out of the country!" my brother cried warmly.

"But he won't, and I'm glad of it," said Rakoczy. "Let us settle with the Austrians first; 'twill be time enough then to fight one another. It's a good rule not to pick up more than you can hold."

What Görgei and Klapka thought of the matter I cannot say; but it took a good deal of enthusiasm out of the soldiers, who had learned to look on Görgei as their natural chief.

However, as Rakoczy well said, the Austrians must be dealt with first; and as Windischgratz was advancing, we broke up our camp, and marched, forty thousand strong, with two hundred and twenty-five guns, to Kapolna, on the road between Pesth and Debreczin.

Here we occupied a strong position on the heights near the town, each wing resting on a ruined village, with our splendid artillery and several squadrons of veteran hussars in the centre.

Daylight had scarcely broken on the morning of the twenty-sixth of February, when the sounds of heavy firing announced that the battle had begun.

My regiment was stationed on the left, and at first I had ample leisure to view the struggle in the centre and on the right.

Compared with this tremendous fight, our encounters with Schlick in the mountains were little more than playing at war.

In the centre, forty great guns on either side, served by skilful gunners, thundered away at each other. Farther along, the Austrian leader hurled battalion after battalion against our right wing.

By means of a field-glass I saw what happened to the first, and the fate of several others was like it.

A great, white-coated mass, looking grey, however, in the early morning, went forward slowly, it appeared to me, yet firmly. A few figures in the front formed a sort of spear-head, which should help the mass to pierce a way.

These greyish-white dots were officers. One carried what might have been a handkerchief; really it was the famous black and yellow colours.

The mass moved on slowly, steadily, firmly. On the right of it shot and shell flew screaming and hissing; flashes of fire burst from the guns; the earth shook with the discharges; a curtain of smoke shut out my view.

When it lifted I looked for the battalion. Yes, there it was, compact as ever, undisturbed by the terrible fight going on elsewhere, and marching steadily towards its destination.

Suddenly some tiny curls of whitish smoke were wafted from the heights. The battalion halted. There was a movement in the ranks--I could not tell what; then the mass advanced again. But as it moved away, I noticed that some parts of it had, so to speak, dropped off; and from this point there began a confused line of dots, thin in some places, thicker in others.

The column had become smaller, and each time the little puffs of curly smoke appeared, it seemed to quiver, as if with cold, and the line of dots was made longer.

The spear-head had done its share towards forming the track. The sides and base of it had vanished, but the apex remained. It was the man with the handkerchief, which he continued to wave without once looking back.

I watched him with intense fascination, till once again a thick black cloud drifted across my lens.

When the battalion next came into sight, it was considerably smaller, and it had left a heap much higher than any of the others about thirty yards in the rear; but the one remaining point of the spear-head still waved its black and yellow folds to and fro.

Suddenly the movement of the mass increased in speed, but it was still one body, save for that detached point in the van.

To it something--I could only guess what--at last happened.

The flag disappeared, the greyish-white figure sank to the ground. I choked back a sigh of regret, when flag and figure came into sight again, only the former had changed its position from right to left.

Now, too, the white puffs came out quicker from the heights; and as the pace of the column increased, so did these curly little clouds.

Then, as I looked, the battalion stopped dead; half of it sank to the ground; the rest, each part separated from its neighbour, fell to pieces; and the various atoms, without any appearance of order, ran back quickly along the track so recently made.

One figure alone moved slowly--it was the apex of the spear-head, the shaft of which had broken; and in spite of the yellow and black colours, I was downright glad to see the flag returning.

"Steady, my boys, steady! Don't fire till you get the word. Remember our general trusts to the 9th Honveds."

The words and the cheer that followed them brought me back with a rush to the reality of my own position.

That which had engaged my attention as a spectator I was about to take part in as an actor.

Two battalions were advancing at the double across the plain, and others had formed up in support.

We held one of the keys of the position, and Görgei himself, trusting to Rakoczy's influence, had placed us there.

If we retreated, the battle would be lost; and no subsequent victory could ever wipe out our disgrace.

Looking at the men's faces, I did not much fear the result. The time had gone by when the 9th would run away at the first shot, as this very battle was to prove.

Steadily the men waited, trusting implicitly in their colonel, while the two battalions crossed the plain and dashed at the heights.

"Fire!"

Sharp and clear the word rang out, and every trigger was pulled at the same instant, as if the regiment had been a machine.

Down below, the slaughter was terrible; but we had to deal with some of the best fighting men who had ever followed the Austrian eagle into the battlefield.

Only the dead stopped at the foot of the heights; all the others, even the wounded, pressed on, and the arrival of the second battalion more than made up for those who had fallen.

Up they came, scorning death, and contemptuous of the Hungarian peasants so recently converted into soldiers.

But "John the Joyous" led us, and we had learned many lessons during our march over the mountains with Görgei.

Standing our ground firmly, we poured volley after volley into the midst of the climbing Austrians.

Still the survivors advanced, and, fed from below, maintained their numbers, while many of our fellows began to drop.

The colonel was everywhere, and his cheery voice encouraged those under his command.

While most of the Austrians came on, climbing and firing in the open, many adopted the wiser course of seeking cover, whence they could pick us off without much risk.

Several men of my company lost their lives in this way; but the fight came at length to a hand-grip, and it was no longer a question of bullets, but of bayonets.

Twice by main force we flung our assailants back; but they returned to the charge, cheering loudly, as if bent upon turning us out or of losing every man in the attempt. We on our side would not give way, and so the stubborn fight continued.

The enemy were continually reinforced; our losses were not made good, and the longer the struggle lasted the more unequal it became.

For myself, I feared that the attack would prove too strong; and, as Rakoczy told me afterwards, he was of the same opinion.

One would not have thought so, however, at the time of the fight. His face was full of confidence; his voice had not lost an atom of its usual cheerfulness. To his troops his presence appeared everywhere as an omen of victory.

Still the position was growing desperate, and though we might have held our own for a while longer, the enemy must finally have captured the heights, as there would have been no one left to defend them.

The colonel had posted my company at a spot where the ascent was fairly easy, and, had the white-coats once broken through, they would have turned the position from the top.

"You must die where you stand," he had said, "for the honour of the Magyars," and we had answered with a cheer.

But the enemy were not at our throats then as they were now, cutting and stabbing, or, seizing us bodily, trying to hurl us over the cliffs.

Still we held our ground, though the company was sadly diminishing in numbers, and every fighting-man who survived was more or less seriously wounded.

I had twice escaped death myself, through the devotion of Mecsey Sándor, who, since the affair in the pass, had taken every opportunity to show his gratitude.

On the second occasion I was engaged hand to hand with an Austrian sergeant, sword against bayonet, when, my foot slipping, down, I went, completely at the fellow's mercy.

Sándor, who though hotly engaged evidently kept one eye on me, was at my side in a moment, and, parrying the sergeant's blow, dealt one himself.

My men cheered as I rose to my feet and again dashed into the thick of the fight.

Then it was that, in the very wreck of our fortunes, a cry rose from the rear--a cry that made our blood hot, and victory, at least in that particular corner of the field, certain.

"Görgei! Görgei! elijen Görgei!"

Louder and louder it grew, putting heart into every man; even the poor fellows on the ground, raising themselves with difficulty, helped to swell the chorus.

Riding along the heights, the general had seen how terribly we suffered, and springing from his horse without a moment's hesitation, had run to our help.

The staff, leaving their animals, followed; and I saw Stephen, his handsome face ablaze with passion, catch his leader, and side by side with him shoot forward into the press.

The reinforcement was few in numbers, but Görgei counted a host in himself, and the sight of his tall, spare frame and spectacled, weather-beaten countenance inspired us all with new courage.

The Austrians now gave way slowly, still fighting with sullen desperation; but we pushed them harder and harder, broke them up into little knots, forced them into a run, till, thoroughly disorganized, they reached the plain a beaten crowd.

Here their misfortunes were by no means at an end. A regiment of hussars, issuing from a wood on the right, scattered those who still kept together, and turned what was already a bad defeat into a total rout.

The cheers for Görgei rose again with tenfold vigour; but the general, taking Rakoczy by the hand, exclaimed, "Colonel, you and your brave lads have done to-day what I shall never forget. I trusted you to hold this position, and you have held it. Through me Hungary thanks the gallant 9th Honveds."

Then, amidst another wild outburst of cheering, he went back to the summit.

While his chief talked thus to Rakoczy, Stephen came to me.

In the struggle he had not received a scratch; but it was different with me, and my brother's face looked very grave.

"It's all right, old fellow," I said, trying to speak lightly. "Not one of these cuts is really dangerous. I'm only a little faint through loss of blood. A night's rest will put me straight."

He shook my hand warmly and followed his chief, but I noticed that more than once he turned and looked back sorrowfully.

The combat, which had lasted for six hours, now ceased on the two wings, but continued in the centre with unabated fury.

There the great guns were massed, and the veterans of both armies strove, the one party to oust its opponents, the other to maintain its position.

The guns roared, sheets of flame sprang from their muzzles, shot and shell tore, screaming, through the air. Occasionally what appeared a solid body of living fire shot skyward, accompanied by a loud report, as a powder-tumbrel was struck by one of the flying missiles.

Then for a time everything would be hidden by a dense bank of smoke, and we waited breathlessly to see it lift. But though human courage may be inexhaustible, there is a limit to human endurance; and at last, as if by common consent, both sides ceased to struggle.

"A drawn battle," said Rakoczy, "and I don't think we've had the worst of it. George, you'd better find a surgeon and have those wounds dressed. We shall have to fight again in the morning."

As I had told Stephen, my hurts were not dangerous, and directly the surgeon had bound them up I returned to the front.

The men lay on the hard ground with only their bundas to shelter them from the bitter, piercing cold that crept into their very marrows.

Rakoczy, with several officers and the least fatigued of the troops, was going about succouring the wounded; but he would not allow me to help, insisting that I needed rest. So, wrapped in my mantle, I lay down, and sad at heart watched the myriads of brilliant stars that shone in the unclouded sky.

CHAPTER IX.

THE RETREAT.

In spite of the cold I fell asleep at last, and did not waken until the morning.

The Austrians were already stirring--indeed, they had been under arms since the dawn; and I saw by the aid of my glass that three batteries had been pushed forward nearer the town.

I snatched a hasty breakfast, consisting of a piece of black bread, a slice of bacon, and a draught of silovitz, afterwards taking command of my shattered company.

The daylight, alas, showed only too plainly the havoc caused by the recent conflict. Many familiar faces were absent from the ranks, and a large number of those who answered to their names were wounded.

Still, the satisfaction of knowing we had stood our ground cheered us, and we looked forward to the coming attack without much fear for the result.

"Feel equal to another bout?" asked the colonel, coming up to me.

He had not slept since the fight began on the previous morning, but his eyes were as bright and his carriage as jaunty as ever.

"Daresay I shall get through somehow," I answered. "But what are the others waiting for? Have they had enough? The attack seems to hang fire a bit."

"Windischgratz won't strike till he can make pretty sure of hitting the mark. Probably he expects Schlick to join him."

"According to the scouts, Schlick can't arrive till it's all over."

"Don't make too sure. Schlick's a perfect demon when the guns begin to speak. His corps would have to march all night if there was a chance of getting up in time. Anyway, had I been Dembinski, I should have forced the fighting directly day broke; but no doubt the old man knows his business."

Rakoczy walked on, passing along the lines smiling good-humouredly, joking with the men, praising them for their behaviour of yesterday, and putting them in famous spirits. Certainly one had not far to seek the reason of his popularity.

Meanwhile the morning advanced, and about seven o'clock the enemy's heavy guns opened fire at Kapolna.

Evidently the attack was to be conducted on a different plan, and very soon the cause of the alteration became plain.

Our position not being threatened, we were able to look about, and from the height obtained a good view of the field.

It was just eight o'clock when Rakoczy, passing his glass to an officer, exclaimed, "That's what I feared. See the column of smoke there on our right?"

"The enemy are spreading themselves out too far. Dembinski could easily cut off their left. The Pole is getting too old for active service. Why doesn't he push forward a couple of battalions quickly?"

Rakoczy smiled. "You don't know what that column of smoke means," he said. "It's a sign that Schlick has arrived with a fresh army corps."

"Impossible!" cried one of the officers. "His men would all have dropped on the march."

In spite of our astonishment, however, the Austrian general was on the field, and pounding away at our right wing with terrific effect.

His arrival put fresh heart into our opponents, and they moved forward in the centre, redoubling their fire on the wretched town. The tide of battle set steadily towards our centre and right, leaving us simple spectators.

I suppose it was important to keep possession of the heights, yet it seemed a pity to stand thus idly while our comrades were fighting so desperately.

Of the combat on our right we saw little, but in the centre we could distinctly see the rush of the two Austrian battalions as their officers led them against the town.

A fierce musketry fire checked them for a second, and I thought they would fall to pieces; but no--the two-headed eagle showed the way, and the brave infantry followed the national symbol.

On they went, and with an exulting cry swept into the town, from which there immediately arose tongues of fire.

The combat was now hidden from us, and we watched in the greatest excitement for what would happen.

The fight inside the town was of the most bitter nature, but, little by little, our comrades were forced back, rushing out at last in a disorderly crowd.

A couple of hundred yards away they stopped their flight, re-formed, and, led as far as we could tell by Dembinski in person, made a gallant but unsuccessful attempt to regain the town.

Three times they returned to the attack; but the Austrians, now reinforced, proved too strong, and at length, sallying out, drove the Magyars back to a farm-house, round which a fierce conflict was maintained.

It was at this time that Stephen rode up with an order for our colonel, and instantly the regiment was on the move.

My brother's face brightened when he saw me, and he stopped to say a word or two.

I asked him how the battle was going, and he replied in a whisper, "Altogether against us; and only Görgei's bravery has kept the right. Good-bye! In an hour there will be an avalanche."

Stephen might well have made the time shorter: in half an hour we were face to face with the signs of the coming rout. At first only a few men here and there scudded away as fast as their legs would carry them, but their fright was contagious. It spread from regiment to regiment, from man to man.

The officers in vain attempted to stay the retreat. The infantry broke up in disorder, each man trying to save himself; the artillery, infected by the sudden panic, wheeled their guns round and galloped off as fast as the horses could travel. The famous hussars, almost alone, retired slowly and in beautiful order.

Our own regiment, influenced by the sight of the fugitives, showed signs of unsteadiness; but Rakoczy, in his usual cheerful manner, threatened to shoot the first who ran, and thus averted the danger.

Very fortunate indeed it proved that the men kept their ranks, as we were suddenly assailed by a body of hussars, who did their best to ride us down.

"Steady, my lads!" cried the colonel. "Keep shoulder to shoulder. If you give way, we're lost."

The leader of the hussars was a handsome young fellow with fair hair and blue eyes, and even in the stress of the fight I recognized Captain von Theyer, one of the leaders of the Viennese insurgents.

He caught my astonished look, and dashed at me sword in hand; but a bullet struck his horse in the chest, and the animal reeled over heavily.

A trooper sprang to the ground, and, dragging his leader free, helped him to mount his own horse, and carried him out of the fray.

"A gallant fellow and a gallant deed," I said, thinking of the trooper, as the hussars galloped off.

"Well done, lads!" cried Rakoczy. "They will learn to respect the 9th Honveds."

We had, however, not yet finished with the hussars, who, led by Von Theyer, returned again and again to the charge, striving desperately to break our ranks.

Met each time by a rain of bullets, they wheeled and galloped away, though twice Von Theyer brought them within touch of the bayonets.

It seemed odd that a prominent revolutionist should thus be leading a charge of Austrian cavalry; but whatever his politics might be, there was no questioning his bravery.

Three times we sent them back with many empty saddles, but their fair-haired young leader was not to be denied.

"Steady!" exclaimed the colonel. "Keep your fire! Here they come!"

They made a brilliant show with their shining breastplates and helmets and nodding plumes as, holding their sabres ready, they thundered down on us.

"Fire!"

Steady as rocks, the Honveds kept their ground; the rifles blazed out; the hussars were checked.

No! Here they were amongst us, cutting and slashing; and foremost of them all rode Von Theyer.

A superb rider and a fine swordsman, he was the beau ideal of a cavalry leader, and handled his men splendidly.

As if I were the special object of attack, he rode straight at me, and crying, "Remember Vienna!" struck furiously with his sword.

With difficulty I parried that blow and several others; but Von Theyer stuck to his work, and the glittering steel flashed incessantly about my head.

I was kept far too busy to see how the fight went elsewhere, but every now and then I heard Rakoczy's cheery voice, and guessed that all was well.

Suddenly there rose a cry in German of "Back! back!" and Von Theyer, roused to a sense of his men's danger, reluctantly drew off.

It was high time. Bearing down from the left, came two squadrons of our own hussars, mounted on magnificent horses, which carried them straight through the disordered ranks of the Austrians.

Then my young opponent showed his value as a leader. With skill equal to his bravery he got his men together, and with little extra loss, as far as could be judged, retired in good order.

"That fellow meant business," said the colonel, as we continued the retreat. "See what comes from interfering in the concerns of other people."

"What do you mean? I haven't done anything to make him angry."

"Ha, ha!" laughed Rakoczy. "What about saving the fräulein's life? Do you think this young gallant likes you any the better for getting into the lady's good graces? I'm glad to see you blush; it shows there is some blood left in your body, which I began to doubt."

Later on I thought a good deal of this little speech, for I had never forgotten the fair young girl in Vienna; but just then there were many things to distract my attention.

Except for our own regiment and the regular cavalry, the Hungarian army had become a helpless, drifting mob.

Heavy guns, baggage-wagons, creaking carts filled with the wounded, infantry without arms, dismounted horsemen, knots of soldiers separated from their officers, some running, others moving with a dogged sullenness, were all jumbled together in extraordinary confusion.

Had the Austrians followed up their victory, they could have swept us all, bag and baggage, into the Theiss.

Fortunately the pursuit was confined to a single brigade, and even that we had the utmost difficulty in beating off.

About two miles eastward of Kapolna, Görgei rode up, attended by his staff, and a ringing cheer greeted his arrival.

His cap was gone, his clothes bore the marks of close hand-to-hand fighting, there was blood on his cheeks, yet he did not look downcast--only savagely determined.

"Colonel," he said, "do you see that wood? Your regiment must hold it for the next two hours--three, if possible, but two for certain."

"We'll hold it, general, living or dead," replied Rakoczy.

"Good! If I can stop any of those wretched runaways, they shall support you."

"We'll do it by ourselves, general," cried an old sergeant; and the men, repeating his words, cheered loudly.

The general's face lit up with a proud smile.

"I'll trust you, my fine fellows!" he said, and off he dashed at full gallop, the officers of the staff trying in vain to keep pace with him.

We reached the wood and took up a position, just in time to receive the attack of a lancer regiment, which came on with gaily fluttering pennons.

Down toppled the first rank, horse and rider, as the rifle fire blazed out. The others, wheeling to right and left, galloped off in two long lines.

Again they came, but it was cruel work for them. Hardly an enemy could they see, yet the bullets sped fast and true, and hardly a lance-point reached the line of rifles.

Then, to complete the misfortune of these gallant fellows, the hussars, making a brave show in their gaudy trappings, again came to our assistance, riding up from the left, and, before the lancers had time to re-form, scattered them in all directions.

"A cheer for the hussars, my lads!" cried Rakoczy, and we sent up a shout that might have been heard a mile off.

The brave fellows waved their sabres in response as they galloped past to their former position on the left of the wood, out of sight, but ready to lend us a helping hand.

The time dragged on very slowly. The lancers had disappeared, but a regiment of Croats took their place, and peppered us from a distance with their long guns.

Then we heard on our left the rattle of sabres, the clash of steel against breastplate and helmet, "Forward! forward!" in German, and knew that our friendly hussars were engaged in fierce conflict.

At the same time the Croats, like savage dogs unleashed, bounded across the open ground.

The Honveds stood firm, and fired as fast as they could load; but in the excitement the bullets flew wide, and though many of the southern warriors fell, we could not stay the onslaught.

They had left their stanitzas behind, and with wild yells came on, their famous red mantles fluttering in the wind, their terrible handjars gripped tightly.