Front matter (continued 3)

Our men continued firing till the very last instant, then a hand-to-hand struggle began.

The active Croats jumped like wild cats at our throats, and it was a case of life or death with every man thus attacked. None asked for quarter, none thought of giving it; it was a terrible life-and-death struggle between Croat and Magyar.

Had half a battalion been sent to the help of our assailants, we must have been driven out, so evenly were the scales balanced; fortunately they were left to do the work by themselves, and just failed.

Every minute after the first rude shock helped us, for the hot fit of the Croats cooled, while the Magyars fought with increased stubbornness.

Finally, we pushed them out of the wood, and the ping of the bullets was heard again as the Magyars, reloading their rifles, poured a volley into the midst of the fugitives.

I watched them go, and then, faint from loss of blood, leaned against a tree.

Another victory such as that, I well knew, would clean out the 9th Honveds, and so did Rakoczy; but he didn't say so.

On the contrary, I heard him praising the men for their bravery, and telling them that with another good regiment they could drive the Austrians back to Vienna.

When he caught sight of me he said softly,--

"Hurt, George?"

"Another scratch," I replied faintly; "but, I say, colonel, what has become of the hussars?"

"Vanished. Beaten off by numbers, I expect. We shall have those lancers gliding amongst us soon; but come and lie down behind a tree for a while. The two hours are nearly up, and we shall be moving."

"No, I shall be all right; but isn't that a cloud of fog?"

"It is, my boy--the jolliest fog you've ever seen, and just in the nick of time. That will stop the Austrians better than a thousand bayonets. Well, if you won't lie down, you won't.--My lads, I don't think Captain Botskay's company need hang their heads when the battle of Kapolna is mentioned;" and he went on his way, carrying encouragement to every part of the line.

Rakoczy had blessed the fog; and, indeed, it proved of the utmost service to us.

Without our knowing it, the situation had become critical. The friendly hussars had been compelled to retreat; the Austrian lancers were working round our left; the Croats, mad for vengeance, were clamouring to be led to the attack; and two light batteries had been pushed up to shell us from the wood.

At the very first discharge of the cannons, Rakoczy retired the greater part of the regiment, confident that the enemy would not attack for some time.

My company was left to further the deception, and between the discharges of the big guns the men kept up a vigorous musketry fire, which, though it did little or no damage, warned the enemy we were still in our places.

It was gloomy work standing there in the thick fog, while the shot and shell screaming over our heads lopped the branches from the trees or tore great holes in the ground. Occasionally a man would sink with a deep groan, but for the most part we were untouched; and when at length the colonel sent us word to withdraw, we were able to carry off all our wounded.

The fog by now had become so thick that we could not see the trees, though we felt them frequently; but out of the wood the marching was easier.

We tramped on in the midst of the darkness like a regiment of lost souls.

The earth was blotted out completely. It was worse even than what we had encountered in the mountains. We could see nothing, and hear nothing beyond the muffled sound of our own footsteps.

As far as I could tell, we might be marching right into the midst of the Austrian troops.

The fog filled our nostrils and throats, almost choking us.

The intense silence was appalling. For my part, I should gladly have welcomed the roar of hostile cannon, just to be sure we were still in the land of the living.

The wound in my shoulder, which Mecsey Sándor had bandaged, bled afresh; my head grew heavy; my eyes ached with pain; I felt hardly able to keep upright. Once my foot slipped, and the man against whom I stumbled, taking my arm, supported me.

I was ashamed of my weakness, yet it was good to lean upon a strong arm, and for a time I walked quite steadily.

An extraordinary accident put an end to my powers of endurance, and left me with no more strength than that of a baby.

We were walking step for step, my companion and I, when suddenly I brought my foot, not to the ground, but into the air, and pitching forward, fell into icy-cold water.

My companion came too. Others followed us, some dropping clear into the water, some breaking holes in the coating of ice that before our arrival had covered its surface.

In the thick fog we had walked into a stream. Fortunately it was of no great depth, the water being only up to our waists; but the shock, the bitter cold, and the struggle for breath took away all my remaining strength.

The soldier, however, kept firm hold, and pulling me on my feet, pushed and dragged me till we reached the opposite side, when another man pulled me out.

Concerning the rest of the inarch I remember very little. Two men seemed to be carrying me cradle-fashion, and occasionally a tall, dimly-seen figure put some food into my mouth.

Sometimes they placed me on the ground, where I stayed for hours; then raising me again they carried me as before.

The fog went with us all the time, so I could not divide night from day, and no sound ever broke the weird silence.

At last there came a time--how long or short soever from the beginning of the journey I did not know--when I saw the burning of many lights, as of huge watch-fires, and heard the shouting of men.

My bearers joined in the noise, and then, putting me down, fell to waving their arms violently, and the black shadows going to and fro across the lights looked like windmills.

After that they took me to some covered place, where, being warm and comfortable, I straightway fell asleep.

From then my impressions grew more distinct. I remember seeing Rakoczy's face, which looked less cheerful than usual, and the spectacled countenance of Görgei.

I thought Stephen also looked sorrowfully at me, but that was a dream, as I afterwards discovered.

It would have suited me to lie thus snug and cosy for ever; but the march was not ended, and one day I was carried into the open and placed in the bottom of a cart.

Several other men were already there, and one in particular groaned most miserably at every jolt of the clumsy vehicle.

Of course, I saw little of what went on, but the fog had departed, and the blessed light of day itself cheered me, while it was good again to hear the different sounds--the rumbling of wheels, the neigh of horses, the shouts of the drivers, the steady tramp, tramp as of the marching of thousands of men.

That ghostly regiment, gliding through the blackness, unseen, unheard, had in my weakened state preyed on my nerves.

Now I was really in the land of living beings again, and I smiled to myself at hearing the crack of the carter's whip, and the familiar words addressed to the horses.

Somewhere on the journey we halted a long, long time, and at length proceeded very slowly and cautiously.

We were crossing the Theiss on a narrow and temporary bridge, though the infantry had gone over on the ice.

Soon after this the wounded man at my side ceased his groaning, which enabled me to go to sleep; but I did not guess that the poor fellow would never disturb any of us again.

The next time the wagon halted, a man, clambering into it, brought a flask, from which several of us drank.

The stuff, whatever its name, had a strange flavour, something like new milk; but it warmed me all over, and even before the cart again started I was sound asleep.

CHAPTER X.

ON THE SICK LIST.

I awoke to find myself lying on a heap of straw in a mud hovel, having one very narrow door, and a window about a foot square, through which the daylight tried to force a way.

The meagre light from two candles showed that I was not the only inmate of this poverty-stricken dwelling.

Ranged round the walls were five other figures, each on a bundle of straw and wrapped in a bunda.

The air was very close, and there was a strong smell of pigs, which made me think that some unfortunate animals had been turned out, or perhaps converted into pork, to make room for us.

However, I felt warm, and warmth in those days was the greatest happiness.

I positively shuddered at the mere remembrance of the intense cold of the last week or two.

It was all very calm and still, when a man in the opposite corner sat up, and in a high-pitched voice began to sing with all his might the well-known revolutionary song of Petöfi--"Rise, Magyars, rise!"

He was evidently in a high state of fever and perfectly delirious, but he went right through the song without a mistake or a pause, and finished by cheering lustily for Hungary.

Seen by the dim light, the spectacle was wonderfully striking. The bandages stained with blood, the face deadly white, the large, dark, fiery eyes burning with fever, the thin arm, freed from its covering, energetically beating time--all these moved me profoundly.

"That's Petreskey," said the man next to me. "He takes a fit every now and then and makes that row. We came from Kapolna in the same cart, and if the black and yellow dogs hadn't shot my arm off, I'd have pitched him out. Who wants to hear that stuff? Lie down, will you, and let a fellow go to sleep."

"Shut up, Janko! Can't you see the chap's out of his mind? Let the poor beggar sing. It does him good."

"Shut up yourself!" growled my neighbour. "D'you think I want to lie here listening to that rubbish when my good right arm's gone from the shoulder? 'Rise, Magyars, rise' won't put that on again."

Meanwhile Petreskey, staring round the room with his wild eyes, broke out again, and sang till he was too weak to utter another note.

The two other men had taken no notice of the incident, but lay on their straw like logs.

I tried to get into talk with the surly Janko, but he only grunted morosely and covered his head with his bunda.

The next man, however, told me we had crossed the Theiss, and were now encamped at Tisza-Fured, on the road to Debreczin, but more than that he did not know.

Towards noon a surgeon paid us a visit; but before that we had been fed by two soldier-servants, and I for one thoroughly enjoyed the hot, nourishing broth which they brought.

The surgeon seemed a tender-hearted fellow, and had a kind word for every man in the room, even the bad-tempered Janko. He came to me last, and asked if I were not George Botskay, a captain in the 9th Honveds.

"What there is left of him," I answered; "but there doesn't appear to be much."

"Nonsense! You'll be marching to Pesth in a week or so. Now you're fit to be moved, we must take you out of this. I'll see your colonel."

I was glad to hear Rakoczy still lived, and inquired anxiously after Stephen.

"On General Görgei's staff?" asked the surgeon pleasantly. "Oh yes, but he is hardly ever to be found; the general keeps him galloping about the country day and night. At present I believe he is at Debreczin. Keep up your courage; you've pulled through the worst of it."

This was pleasant hearing, and when the surgeon finally departed I nestled down on my heap of straw with quite a feeling of content. The day and night passed without further incident, except that the poor, crazed Petreskey woke me up from a sound sleep by another vigorous performance of "Rise, Magyars, rise!"

Soon after breakfast the door opened, and Rakoczy entered, his face beaming with smiles, his eyes bright and sparkling.

Stephen had once compared him with a sunbeam, but to me that morning he seemed more like a million sunbeams rolled into one.

At the sight of him even Janko forgot to look sulky, and saluted with his remaining arm.

None of the patients belonged to his regiment, but he went to each in turn, soothing the excited Petreskey, and speaking kindly words of sympathy and cheer to all.

When, having satisfied himself that not one of the poor fellows would feel himself neglected, he came to me, he was fairly bubbling over with pleasure.

His lips twitched nervously, and I believe his eyes were moist; but he carried the matter off in his usual jocular way.

"Well, George," he exclaimed, laughing, "I hear the silovitz got into your head, and you pushed poor Mecsey Sándor into the river. There's nothing like a cold bath when the brain's heated; but 'twas rather rough on Sándor, who had drunk none of your plum brandy. However, the poor fellow bears no malice, and will be glad to see you in your sober senses again."

"Then it was Mecsey who saved my life?"

"Truth, you may say that. He hauled you out from under the ice, and pushed you on to dry land."

"What a night it was! I should think the whole regiment had a drenching."

"Yes, but they didn't go at it in your hot-headed way. After your company had found the stream, the others walked in quietly, and out at the other side. Görgei says he didn't think you were in such a hurry to retreat."

"Don't poke fun, but tell me what happened. Were there many lives lost?"

"At the water-jump? No. A few ugly bruises covered the mischief. We lost heavily in the wood though, and have had to fill up the gaps with raw material. You'll be sorry to miss the chance of drilling the recruits."

"Had quite enough of that at Pesth," I replied, laughing.

"And a very fine drill-sergeant you'd have made by sticking at it; but I'm keeping the men outside waiting. They're going to take you to another hut. It's quite as dirty as this; but you'll have more room, and be with the officers of your own regiment."

He went to the door and called two men, who carried me out tenderly to an ambulance, and then, helped by two comrades, bore me some two hundred yards over very rough and uneven ground to a hovel which might have been twin brother to the one I had just left.

There were the same narrow door and square foot of window, while the furniture consisted of three bundles of straw, two being already occupied. My nose also informed me that the former inmates of the place had been on terms of social intercourse with the pigs.

"Gentlemen," said the colonel, "I have brought Captain Botskay to share your apartment."

At the sound of the colonel's voice the figures on the straw showed signs of life, stirred, and finally sat up, when I recognized them as two young lieutenants named Thurzo and Dobozy.

"Glad to see you, captain," said the first, adding quickly, "That is, sorry you've been hurt, but right glad of your company."

Dobozy had been wounded in the wood, and I had sent him to the rear, which he remembered and now gratefully acknowledged.

"I must be off," said the colonel, "but will look in to-morrow. Meanwhile I'll send Mecsey Sándor to wait on you; he'll be delighted, and you can't very well push him into another river."

The soldiers had carried me with great care, but even so my limbs ached with the jolting, and after a little talk with my companions I was glad to drop into a sound sleep. Towards the evening Sándor arrived, and I thanked him warmly for what he had done.

"'Twas nothing, captain," replied he stolidly--"nothing at all compared with what you did for me in the mountains. You risked your life; I didn't."

"You saved mine, though, and I shan't forget it."

Neither of us spoke on the subject again; but I resolved that, when the war ended, the honest fellow should have reason to remember his brave act.

The two lieutenants were already strong enough to hobble about, but several days passed before I was able to join them.

Rakoczy called every morning, sometimes in the evening as well, and his visits did more toward our recovery than all the doctor's stuff.

One day, however, he came to say good-bye. The regiment had received orders to recross the Theiss.

"We're going to drive the Austrians out of Szolnok, unless they take it into their heads to drive us back to Tisza-Fured. Bern has done wonders in Transylvania. The white-coats called the Russians in to help them, but the Pole has cleared the country of the lot. The news has put heart into Vetter, and he intends to move forward with the whole army."

"What has Vetter to do with it?" I asked in surprise.

"Oh, I forgot you didn't know. He's the new chief. There's been a bit of a squabble, and Dembinski had to stand down; but it's all right now. Make haste and get well, or you'll have no share in planting the red, white, and green colours on the walls of Vienna;" and he went out, laughing merrily.

I asked my comrades what the colonel meant by a squabble, but neither knew what had happened. Both, however, rejoiced at the fall of Dembinski; and Dobozy, who had been wounded at Poroszlo, said there was some angry talk among the officers of Görgei's brigade at that place.

We questioned Sándor, but he knew little beyond the fact that there had been a general kravalle, or brawl, which brought Kossuth post-haste from Debreczin, and ended in Vetter being proclaimed commander-in-chief.

The doctor told us the same story, but with few fresh details; and it was not until Stephen found time to hunt me up that we learned the truth.

My brother had altered much in the short time since the war broke out.

From a boy, he seemed to have become a man all at once, and I cannot say that I liked the change.

To me he was the same loving brother he had always been, and we embraced each other with every mark of affection; but there was a sternness of purpose in his face and a determined courage that I thought ill suited one who was really little more than a lad.

The two lieutenants had very considerately gone outside, but now I called them in and introduced them to my brother.

"The general gives you little leisure time," Thurzo remarked.

"Very little," replied Stephen; "but then he gives himself less. I doubt if even Kossuth works harder."

"Glad to hear you give the dictator his due."

"Oh, I don't deny that Kossuth is an extraordinary man, a genius of the first water, and in his way a devoted patriot. Whether we win or lose the game, Kossuth's name will live for ever. Without his marvellous eloquence we couldn't have carried on the war; but though I admire the man I doubt his object. Kossuth the patriot deserves well of his country, but Kossuth the democrat is another person. We don't want a French revolution in our country."

"Bravo!" cried Dobozy. "Hungary a kingdom is my motto; and not Hungary a republic."

"The 9th Honveds are all royalists," remarked Thurzo quietly.

"And every regiment in the brigade," said Stephen. "Kossuth discovered that not very long ago."

"Tell us about it, Stephen. We've only heard just the bare outline."

"Well, the fuss began at Poroszlo during the retreat. As you know, Görgei's brigade did the covering work, and halted at Poroszlo. The place was strongly entrenched and fortified, and Dembinski sent orders that we were to occupy a position in front of the guns. You may be sure Görgei wasn't such an idiot as to obey, and the general talked about putting him under arrest. He sent off a messenger full speed to Debreczin, but by the time Kossuth arrived the game was over."

"What had happened?"

Stephen smiled grimly; he seemed to have forgotten how to laugh.

"We promptly shut the Pole up," he said; "and Kossuth found his chief general a prisoner."

"And he submitted?"

"What else could he do? We were all in one mind. So the upshot of the matter was that the Diet gave the command to Vetter."

"Not to Görgei?"

"No," said Stephen bitterly. "It's my opinion they're jealous of him. By the way, your regiment has distinguished itself at Szolnok. It led the attack, and fairly drove the Austrians out of the town."

"Well done, 9th Honveds!" exclaimed Thurzo. "Wish I'd been with them!"

"There will be enough and to spare of fighting before the war ends," said my brother. "The army moves in a few days for Pesth."

I asked him to look in again before they left, and he promised to do so if Görgei gave him a chance.

When he had gone, my comrades talked over the news, and it was plain that, like myself, they foresaw trouble in the future.

Thurzo put the matter very straight.

"If the Austrians win," he said, "we shall all have to pay, and a very dreary performance it will be. If the victory falls to us, we shall very soon be flying at one another's throats."

"The army is with Görgei," I said.

"But Kossuth has a powerful following, and the Poles will help him to a man."

"Worse still," said Dobozy. "Hungary is fast becoming the dumping-ground for the republicans of every country in Europe. Germans, Italians, French are all swarming over here like carrion-crows to a dead horse."

"They wish to help the cause."

"By forming a republic," replied Dobozy angrily; "and we won't have it. I'm like your brother, and think Kossuth a great genius; but he isn't the only man in Hungary."

I record these remarks, because they serve to show how, even at this early period of the campaign, a wide gulf was opening between the two parties in the country. Later, it formed a deep grave in which we buried our hopes.

Before the war ended we proved up to the hilt the truth of that old saying, "A house divided against itself cannot stand."

Another day passed, and then Stephen came to say good-bye.

"I'm off with an important order for General Damjanics," he said. "The camp breaks up to-morrow. Why do you look so gloomy? You're mending nicely, and will be fit to travel in another week."

"I hope so. It isn't pleasant to be left behind when others are going to the front."

"Fortune of war, George, and it's no use grumbling. Well, good-bye; we shall meet in Pesth."

I embraced him rather sadly, and, going outside, watched him mount and ride away.

All that day we looked on at the preparations for the march, and early the next morning went to see the breakup of the camp. The men, who were in good spirits, sang at their work, cheered the generals--Görgei and Klapka in particular--and showed a willing eagerness to be led against the enemy.

There must have been fifty thousand of them altogether, besides a host of camp-followers, and they were filing past till late at night--batteries of artillery accompanied by smart, keen-looking gunners; dashing hussars in their showy uniforms; veterans who had made good many a desperate fight under the black and yellow banners; home-trained Honveds drilled into decent soldiers; raw recruits indifferently armed, but supposed to be valuable on account of their enthusiasm; while over all flew our glorious red, white, and green colours.

We went back to our hovel, where the patient Sándor had prepared supper, and drank a glass of silovitz to the success of our comrades.

I pass over the chronicles of the next week. They would prove but dreary reading, since we had nothing to do from morning till night but grumble at being left behind.

The unfortunate doctor was so baited and badgered that at last, I verily believe, in sheer self-defence, he reported us as fit for service; and one fine morning, though the weather was still bitterly cold, we left Tisza-Fured with about a hundred soldiers, who were going to rejoin their various regiments.

Having plenty of provisions, we followed in the track of the army, as being the safest and most direct route; and everywhere the inhabitants of the villages through which we passed gave us a hearty welcome.

At Kapolna, the scene of our former defeat, we made a long stay, having arrived there about noon, and not leaving till next morning.

The town presented a very melancholy appearance. Many of the houses were burned to the ground, and in every direction traces of the fierce fight were plainly visible.

Still, the sufferings of the people had not weakened their loyalty to the cause, and the leading citizens feasted us generously.

For the first time since leaving Pesth I slept in a real bed, and the sensation was quite novel.

It was so extremely comfortable that I did not wish to turn out the next morning, but Sándor kept up such a tremendous hammering at the door that I was compelled to rise. I learned from my host that Görgei, with the seventh corps, was marching towards Hatvan; while Vetter, commanding the main army, was trying to push himself in between Jellachich's corps and Windischgratz, the latter of whom lay at Godolo.

Where we should find the 9th Honveds I could not tell, but decided to join Görgei, on the chance that they were with him.

After a hearty breakfast, I went into the street, where the men were already assembled under Thurzo and Dobozy.

Hitherto there had been little fear of danger; but now I took some precautions, since we might likely enough meet with the scouting parties either of Windischgratz or Jellachich, the latter of whom made very free use of his cavalry.

Many of the inhabitants assembled to give us a parting cheer, and we set off in high spirits.

The governor had provided me with a couple of trustworthy guides, as he feared the Austrians held the highroad, and we had no wish to run into their arms.

The ground was covered with snow over a foot deep, and we stepped out as briskly as we could, to keep ourselves warm. I had left the heavy carts which had contained our provisions at Kapolna, dividing what was left of the food equally amongst the men; and this proved fortunate, as the lumbering vehicles would have hindered us greatly.

In the evening we reached an isolated village, and nearly terrified the good people out of their wits, as, in the gloom, they mistook us for the enemy.

However, the matter was soon put straight. The men were willingly received into the houses and made welcome; while I, having posted the sentries, went to sup with the curé--a very hospitable and obliging host.

Twice during the night I visited the sentries, finding all quiet; and on the following day the guides told me they thought the most dangerous part of the journey was past. This proved right; nowhere did we meet with a trace of the Austrians, while the villagers assured us we should soon overtake Görgei.

The guides again took to the highroad, which after-events showed we need not have left, and we continued our march until within a mile or two of the village called Hort. Here we came upon a number of camp-followers, who said Görgei was attacking the Austrians in the village, and almost at the same time there fell on our ears the roar of heavy guns. My men were fatigued by a long march, but they brightened at the sound of the familiar music, and were for running forward to help in the fight; but I thought Görgei might be trusted to win the battle without the aid of my scratch detachment, and proceeded at the ordinary pace. By the time we reached Hort, our comrades were driving the Austrians through the streets of Hatvan, and finally over the river Zagywa.

"Just our luck!" grumbled Thurzo, as I halted the men in the town and looked about for a responsible officer; "half a day sooner, and we should have been in the thick of it. Listen! There's a big fight going on down by the river."

"Our fellows trying to capture a bridge, most likely," observed Dobozy, which was really the case.

"Beg pardon, captain," said Sándor, "but there's a man of our regiment going to the rear; perhaps he can tell us where the colonel is."

This was a good idea, and I put the question to the man, whose arm was gashed by a sabre cut.

"Outside the town, captain," he replied. "In a field to the right."

After thanking the man, I set my detachment in motion once more, glad at the thought of again meeting my genial friend.

CHAPTER XI.

GÖRGEI TO THE RESCUE.

The noise of the battle died away as we left the town and made for the field where the 9th Honveds were resting after their exertions. As usual they had been pretty roughly handled; but Görgei had found time to thank them for their bravery, and that paid for everything.

Some were eating and drinking; others, wrapped in their bundas, were already fast asleep. The colonel was just returning from visiting the wounded.

"Hallo!" he exclaimed; "what are you doing here? Thought you were at Tisza-Fured. Who are those fellows?"

"They've just come from hospital to rejoin their regiments. I thought perhaps you'd tell me what to do with them."

"All right. I'll attend to it.--Glad to see you, Dobozy.--A little bit too late for the fight, Thurzo. We've had another turn at our old friend Schlick. Hot while it lasted; but we carried too many guns for him. Plucky chap, though. I'd invite you into my tent if I had one; but you can take your choice of the ground--there's plenty to choose from.--Any of my fellows amongst that lot, Botskay? Thanks. Let them stand out.--Back again, my lads? Good-luck to you.--Now, George, come along and we'll dispose of the others; they look as if they want a rest."

The colonel rattled on in his lively strain, passed the men on to the proper authorities, stopped here and there to joke with his friends, and then took me back to the regiment, where we joined the other officers at their evening meal.

"Yes," he said cheerfully, in answer to some remark, "things are shaping well at present. If only Görgei had a free hand, the white-coats would soon be bundling out of Pesth."

This seemed to be the general opinion, though here and there one heard a word in praise of Vetter, and even of Dembinski, the late chief.

It was the second day after the affair at Hatvan when Stephen rode up to the quarters of the 9th Honveds.

"I expected to find you here," he exclaimed cheerfully. "Feel all right again?"

"Thanks, old chap; I'm as well as ever. As for you, this soldiering seems to suit you perfectly. Haven't seen you look so smiling for ages."

He actually laughed. "Not heard the news? Well, it will be known in an hour or two. Vetter's resigned, and Görgei has been made chief."

"Then we can begin to pack up?"

"Yes. There won't be much rest for any one till we're in Pesth."

"And not much then."

"No. Of course, I don't claim to be in the general's secrets, but I know him well enough to feel sure he won't stop till we get to Vienna. By the way, that reminds me of a queer circumstance. Do you remember Von Theyer?"

I nodded briskly.

"He's turned imperialist, and is either a captain or major in the hussars. The fellow made a dead set at me the other day, and I should advise you to be careful."

Thereupon I related what had happened at Kapolna, upon which Stephen repeated his warning more seriously, saying that in Von Theyer I had, no doubt, a special and determined enemy.

"If possible, he will do you mischief," he continued; "so be on your guard. Plainly he is a very clever fellow, or he would not so easily have hoodwinked the authorities, and he has courage enough for anything."

"Yes, he makes a dashing cavalry leader; but why should he be so bitter against us? We haven't harmed the fellow."

Stephen smiled, and made almost the same remark as Rakoczy at Kapolna.

"Have you forgotten the fräulein?" he asked. "No, I see you have not by the blush on your face. Well, my boy, Von Theyer wants to keep the fräulein's favours for himself. Understand?"

I nodded lightly, and Rakoczy coming up at the moment, the talk took a fresh turn.

Stephen's news soon spread, and, in our part of the army at least, gave general satisfaction.

Officers and men alike had perfect confidence in Görgei's judgment, and the only fear expressed was that he would be hampered by the orders of the civil government.

For a time, however, we were too busy with the work of preparation to think much of anything else.

Exactly what was in hand, of course, we did not know; but on the night of the third of April a rumour spread through the camp that the army would march at daybreak.

Directly after breakfast the regiments mustered, arms were examined, instructions issued to officers; and as soon as it was well light we moved out in three divisions by the highroad running to Pesth.

Görgei commanded in person, and under him were Generals Klapka, Aulich, and Damjanics.

Our regiment formed part of the first corps, which advanced by the right, keeping in touch, however, with the two others. Görgei had left fifteen thousand men at Hatvan, but we were still nearly thirty thousand strong; and our object apparently was to prevent Jellachich from joining the main army under Windischgratz.

"There's the first move," cried young Thurzo excitedly, as away on our left one of Aulich's batteries opened fire.

"And the answer to it," said I, as the enemy responded with a terrific storm of shot and shell. "It must be warm over there."

The battle soon developed, not reaching us, however, though occasionally we caught glimpses of it as we marched on to take up our position near the village of Tampio-Biscke.

From a mounted messenger sent in search of Klapka we learned that the Croats, by a brilliant charge, had captured four guns, but were afterwards driven back, and could now barely hold their own.

Jellachich was anxiously awaiting aid from the Austrians. Should it not come, his army would almost certainly be destroyed.

"Rather uninteresting work this," grumbled Thurzo. "Why, we were almost as lively down at Tisza-Fured."

"Can't make out exactly why we are here," answered a comrade. "We aren't actors, for certain; while, as spectators, we get a very poor view of the performance."

"Listen!" I interrupted as a thunderous roar of heavy guns broke out apparently close upon us. "The Austrians are over the river."

"Hurrah!" cried Thurzo; "now for our share in the fight!"

Poor fellow! I have often wondered since if he would have shown such eagerness had he known what was coming.

Rakoczy spoke a word to the men, exhorting them to be steady; then we stood awaiting orders.

They did not come. The roar of the guns was unceasing, drowning the rattle of musketry and the shrieks of the wounded; the blinding flashes played perpetually round their muzzles; our advanced guard was nearly annihilated, though that we only guessed.

We leaned on our swords and wondered, while the men fumbled impatiently with their firearms; Rakoczy alone, smiling and genial, showed neither uneasiness nor concern.

Suddenly an officer dashed up, hatless, bleeding, and holding his reins in his right hand. He spoke to the colonel, who, without a moment's delay, gave orders that the regiment should advance at the double.

From that moment the horror of the fight began for us.

Moving out from the low sand-hills that had hitherto sheltered us, we found ourselves very shortly in the thick of it.

The Austrians had placed their batteries in such an admirable position that not only were our guns partly silenced, but the head of the column was blown clean away.

One battery pumped shot and shell into our flank as we went by, while another continued to draw lines through the troops in front of us.

I concluded that we were required to support an attack on the guns, when a loud cry from the men announced that something was happening.

I have never seen a more peculiar sight.

The remnant of the column began to bend from one side to the other, for all the world like a boat rocking in the water. The movement was slow at first, but it soon increased in speed, and then the column broke in pieces.

At this the Austrians, plying the guns with renewed vigour, literally swept the plain with their fire, which put an end to the shattered column.

In an instant a fine body of disciplined soldiers was changed into a fear-stricken mob flying for dear life.

Away went bayonet and rifle, cartridge-pouch, and everything that by impeding flight might lessen the chance of safety.

A shiver of indecision passed through our regiment at the sight; but Rakoczy's calmness stopped the mischief, at least for a time, and, under his directions, we opened our ranks to let the runaways through.

On they came, shouting, yelling, and so blind with fear that I believe many of them did not recognize us.

To stop them just then would have been impossible; it would be well if they did not carry the regiment off in their wild career.

With heads bent and muscles stretched to breaking-point, they thundered along, seeing nothing, caring for nothing, except to get away.

Young Thurzo, mad with shame and rage, shook his fist and called them bitter names, any one of which at another time would have cost him his life.

Now they passed unchallenged; the fugitives heard nothing but the hissing of those terrible Austrian shells that had cost the column so dearly.

Chiefly through the colonel's influence, the regiment stood firm, and, directly the runaways were past, proceeded to re-form its ranks.

A moment's glance to the front, however, showed that another disaster was in store.

Windischgratz, noticing the break-up of the column, ordered the battery to cease firing, and immediately launched two cavalry regiments--one of cuirassiers, one of hussars--to finish the work.

We were, as I have already said, in the very act of reforming when they dashed at us.

With five minutes' grace we might have made somewhat of a stand, but now they were too quick for us.

I heard the colonel's "Steady, lads, steady! Stand your ground!" and then a blazing volley of musketry that brought down many a stalwart trooper.

The cuirassiers were astonished by this warm reception, but they could not turn back if they would--their speed was too great.

Helmets and cuirasses flashed in the sunlight as the horsemen sprang into our ranks, cutting and slashing on all sides.

There are many safer places than a broken square in a cavalry charge.

Before the Honveds found a chance of running away they fought desperately, stabbing with their bayonets at men and horses, or making serviceable weapons of their clubbed rifles.

In such a mêlée it was almost necessarily a case of every man for himself; but a few of the officers stuck together, and by degrees gathered round them the steadiest of the men.

The colonel was at their head, and I joined them with young Thurzo, who was wild with grief. He had taken part in two battles, and each had ended in defeat.

By this time the larger part of the regiment was in full flight, and the cuirassiers, finding the way open, followed in pursuit.

We formed ourselves into a square, officers and privates shoulder to shoulder, with Rakoczy on foot to lead us.

I had caught the colours as they dropped from the grasp of the man who bore them, and they still fluttered bravely overhead.

I have said that Windischgratz sent out two cavalry regiments, and the second now charged hotly on our poor remnant.

Amongst the officers Von Theyer showed conspicuously, and, as before, he paid me special attention, which was flattering but uncomfortable.

However, we beat the hussars off time and again, and continued to retire steadily, though not without great loss.

It was pitiful to see man after man drop dead or grievously wounded, but the others closed up and ever showed an unbroken front.

Poor Thurzo, whom I had learned to like well, and who marched out so gaily to the fight that morning, met his death here. Two troopers dashed at him with uplifted sabres: one he shot dead with his pistol; the other cleft him from head to chin.

Poor fellow! He had been much afraid that Aulich's corps would get all the fighting.

There he lay dead, and his greatest friend could do no more than give him the fleetest of passing thoughts.

Back we went steadily; and, though death was busy in our ranks, yet the square grew larger, for many fugitives belonging both to our own and other regiments joined us.

How the battle went elsewhere it was impossible for us to guess, but the utter rout of our corps was painfully apparent.

Once we set up a cheer as a small party of cuirassiers went galloping back, but the cheer changed into a cry of rage when we saw they were dragging a captured gun.

Another and another followed. The hussars yelled exultingly, and, nerved by the sight, made another effort to break the square.

Instantly we halted; the front rank men kneeled down; the rifles were levelled; there was a line of light, a loud report, and once more the hussars were thrown back.

It was just after this that a shout arose which put heart into the most depressed.

From the throats of thousands there leaped a cry of "Görgei! Görgei!" The runaways stopped in their headlong flight. A part of Damjanic's division hurried to the scene, and flung themselves across the path of the victors.

The rout was stayed. The Austrians who had followed in the wake of their cavalry were brought to a standstill; the battle, which had passed us, now began to return. Our eyes danced with joy as we saw the white-coats come back at a run.

Following them closely, Görgei and his staff rode at the head of Schwartzenberg's Hungarian regiment. Rakoczy, seizing his opportunity, led us forward to join them.

The tide had turned with a vengeance.

Back went the Austrians--horse, foot, and field-guns--not exactly broken, yet in extreme disorder, and seeking shelter under their two fixed batteries.

Now we had a taste of the reception our advanced guard had met with earlier in the day, and understood how it was they failed to hold their ground.

Görgei quickly made up his mind what to do.

We saw him speak to his staff, and two officers darted off, one towards us, one towards the rear.

Our messenger was Stephen, his face flushed, his eyes glowing with excitement.

He dashed up to the colonel, saluted, pointed with his sword, delivered his message, threw me a kindly look in passing, and was gone.

Rakoczy lost not a moment, but, pointing to the battery, exclaimed quietly, "My lads, the general says we are to take that battery; the sooner we reach it the better."

The men cheered in reply; but many a lip twitched nervously, and more than one face paled, for the colonel's words were a message of death.

The colonel knew it too; and, as we started, he gave my hand a slight pressure as in token of farewell. But his voice was firm, his face full of quiet confidence, his glance proud and smiling. The sacrifice was for his country: let it be made.

Then away we went, and at the same moment the veterans from Damjanic's division started for the second battery.

Unfortunately, there was little cover on our route; and, as the colonel had said, our best plan was to reach the sandhill where the battery was posted in the shortest possible time.

A terrible fire opened on us at once, but the first flight of shells passed harmlessly; the second killed a few men and smashed the flag-pole I carried; at the third we flung ourselves into a gully of sand, Rakoczy alone remaining upright.

Then, springing to our feet, we ran on, cheering frantically as a regiment of hussars dashed up from the right straight at the flank of the battery.

The horsemen were still a long way off, but they rode hard, and would reach the guns in time to give us help.

"Forward! forward!" shouted Rakoczy; and the brave fellow, fleet of foot as a deer, led the way several yards in advance.

Still carrying the shattered pole, I toiled on, while the great guns, belching forth fire and flame, poured their deadly missiles into the midst of us.

Once, tripping over a prostrate body, I fell to the ground heavily, and lay for a moment half-stunned; the next I was on my feet, and running with all my might to get a place in the front.

"The flag!" I gasped, overtaking the rear. "Make way for the flag!"

Everywhere now the Austrians were making a stubborn last stand. If only they could roll us back ever so little, the day would be theirs.

Through a rift in the smoke-cloud I saw a hussar regiment ride out from behind the battery, and guessed they intended to meet the charge of our own horsemen half-way.

The curtain dropped again; I could see no more. Rakoczy was still unhurt, for his voice sounded clearly above the din, and the men responded to his cry of "Forward!" with a cheer.

Then we were there, so unexpectedly that I stared amazedly at the long, black monsters which the gunners could not spike.

I sprang on one and waved the colours, while the men cheered madly.

Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, there went by a ragged line of horsemen, spurring hard, and leaning over the heads of their animals that, with foam-splashed lips, distended nostrils, and heaving sides, strained every muscle.

We gazed open-mouthed at the apparition, and then gave ourselves up to renewed cheering as our own hussars--Stephen riding neck by neck with their colonel--dashed in pursuit.

Farther away on the left, the regiment of veterans, having captured the battery, was engaged in fierce conflict with a body of infantry. Now from all sides our friends were hurrying up, and the Austrians, overwhelmed by numbers, fled over the Tapio River towards Koka, where they sheltered behind the sand-hills. As for us, we halted on the ground it had cost us so dear to win; and the colonel immediately sent me to collect the runaways from the regiment, and bring them back.

This I did with exceeding difficulty, as the whole of Klapka's corps was in a terrible state of confusion. Then, with Dobozy and half a dozen soldiers, I proceeded to search for the body of the hapless Thurzo.

I picked up the sword which had dropped from the nerveless fingers, while Dobozy cut a curl from the dead lad's raven hair.

"For his mother," he said softly, not attempting to hide the tears that gathered in his eyes. "He was her only son, and she is a widow."

The men carried the body to a small wood nearly half a mile away, and there, with the sweet-smelling pines swaying mournfully overhead, we buried him, marking the place by a rude cross.

"It will comfort her, when the war is ended, to come and pray beside it," said Dobozy, as we turned sorrowfully toward the spot where our regiment was stationed.

We were not very cheerful in camp that night. We were tired out with marching and fighting, saddened by the loss of many brave companions, while the shame of that morning's rout hung over us like a pall.

True, the Austrians had finally been repulsed; but the credit of that was not ours. That belonged to Görgei and the veterans of the second division.

The runaways were sulky and ashamed; the officers--some of whom had been literally carried off by the crowd of fugitives--were furiously angry.

For myself, I was on fatigue duty till a late hour, and Dobozy volunteered to help me: hard work would divert his mind somewhat from dwelling on the death of his comrade.

It was nearly midnight when we rejoined our brother-officers, who, wrapped in their mantles, lay in a ring on the ground. Some had forgotten the disaster in sleep, others were still chatting quietly over the events of the day.

Rakoczy was absent; he had been sent for by the chief, who wished to consult him, or more likely, perhaps, to give him some orders for the morning.

Dobozy and I lay down side by side, wrapped ourselves in our mantles, and tried to snatch an hour or two's sleep.

In this my companion happily succeeded, but I was less fortunate, being weighed down by a sense of uneasiness as to my brother's fate.

After that momentary glimpse of him riding at the head of the hussars, he had vanished, and no one seemed to know what had become of him.

True, he might have rejoined Görgei, and been sent with a message to Aulich; but the general gloom of the day made me nervous and fanciful, and I lay awake until Rakoczy returned.

"Stephen?" he said, in answer to my anxious questioning. "No, I certainly didn't see him; but what of that? Görgei's aides flit about like ghosts in a stage-play. They aren't supposed to be like ordinary mortals, who want food and rest. Cheer up, my boy; I really don't think there's any reason to worry. If Stephen had come to grief, Görgei would have known and told me, you may be sure. Clear your head of these notions, and go to sleep. We're likely to have a hard day to-morrow."

This was sensible advice, and I tried to act on it; but after all, I must confess, there was little sleep for me that night.

CHAPTER XII.

A SORROWFUL VICTORY.

"Conquer to-day, or back behind the Theiss! Such is the alternative; I know of no other. Damjanics still continues the battle. Aulich advances; Klapka has stopped his retreat. Forward! We must conquer!"

These were the words which greeted us from our brave chief, when once again we stood in battle array, and they warmed our blood like a draught of generous wine.

I understood little of the general's plans, except that at all costs he purposed keeping Jellachich and the Austrians apart.

On the extreme left, Aulich and a part of the second division advanced through a spur of the Isaszeg forest; in the centre our cavalry and artillery had gathered; we of Klapka's corps, with a small part of the second division, occupied the most northern spur of all.

As we reached our positions, Görgei rode down, attended by his brilliant staff.

I looked eagerly for Stephen, and my heart sank when I saw he was not there.

Görgei was no orator like Kossuth. As a rule he spoke with his sword, and very clearly did he make himself understood.

This morning he treated us to a little harangue. It was not long, but very effective.

"My lads!" he said, and his voice rang out like a trumpet-call, "there is only one thing I ask you to do--stand where you are till the sun goes down. Will you do it?"

Like one man, the broken remnant of Klapka's corps shouted their answer; and the general, whose face beamed with pleasure, rode off amidst enthusiastic cries of "Elijen Görgei!"

In the centre, a part of the forest had burst into flames, and the wind, blowing from the south, spread the smoke over our right like a curtain.

At times it was so thick we could neither see nor be seen. Again it would lift, and reveal to our straining eyes some portion of the battle.

The artillery duel in the centre proceeded with the utmost vigour, but it seemed to us that the Austrian fire gradually grew weaker and slacker. Two tremendous explosions, one after the other, announced the blowing up of a considerable quantity of ammunition, and for a while the fire ceased.

Aulich's corps was by this time hidden from view in the forest, but by the sound of his light guns we could tell he was making uninterrupted progress.

Thus far we ourselves were merely spectators of the battle, but now several infantry regiments appeared on our right, and poured a destructive fire into our ranks.

We paid back what we could of their favours; but they had the advantage of us, and Klapka had just given orders to turn them out when they themselves rushed forward to the charge.

The onslaught was sudden and violent, but the Magyars, burning to atone for yesterday's panic, actually left the shelter of the trees in order to engage their enemy the sooner.

So eager, indeed, were the 9th Honveds that they got entirely out of hand, and having defeated a body of the enemy, chased them much farther than was prudent.

A well-directed cavalry charge would at this moment have cut the regiment in pieces.

As it happened, Klapka's men were successful all along the line, which helped us to return without mishap.

The tremendous cannonade in the centre, which had partly died away, now broke out afresh. The wind, veering again, swept the smoke from the burning forest right across our position, shrouding us completely.

When next we were able to catch a glimpse of the battle, our men raised a loud cheer and flourished their rifles excitedly, to the great danger both of themselves and their comrades.

Far in advance of us, and on our left, the soldiers of Aulich's division were pushing the Austrians before them, and thus far Görgei's plans had proved a success.

At this sight our own opponents made a desperate effort to drive us from the spur of the forest which we held, and for a while longer the fight raged with great fury.

Görgei's words, however, still rang in our ears, and not a man made a backward step.

About this time my anxiety concerning Stephen was relieved. The general, seeing what tremendous efforts the enemy made to roll us back, rode up to give us some little encouragement, and amongst his staff I saw my brother, apparently unhurt, but looking very tired.

Stephen gave me a bright nod as the general cantered along, praising the men, bidding them hold out a little longer, and assuring us all that the battle was practically won.

Görgei had hardly gone when our opponents rallied for a final attack.

It was growing dusk by now, and we felt sure that everything in our part of the field depended on the next half-hour.

An Austrian success would wipe out all the advantage Aulich had obtained; while if we stood firm, the enemy must retire in every part of the field.

The part to be played by the 9th Honveds was very simple, yet I must admit we did not like it. A shadow of annoyance passed over even Rakoczy's face when the order was brought from Klapka.

Every man in the regiment burned to advance, instead of which we had to stand still and supply a steady target for the enemy's fire.

Fortunately the attack did not last long. The other regiments, turning on us as on a pivot, swung round in a flanking movement, and presently the Hungarian cry of "Forward! forward!" told that our comrades were driving the enemy before them.

"Now," exclaimed our colonel genially, "if Aulich has taken Isaszeg, the affair is over."

But had he? No one could tell. His corps had vanished completely, and the fast-approaching night swallowed everything in gloom.

Two hours longer we stood to our arms, ready at any moment either to advance or to repel any fresh attack.

It was dreary work waiting, and the men were so tired that many fell asleep while standing in the ranks.

Suddenly there rose a sound of cheering, a vigorous "Elijen Görgei! Elijen Aulich!" and the welcome news flashed from regiment to regiment, from man to man, that Aulich had chased the Austrians out of Isaszeg.

The knowledge of this success made new men of us. We forgot our fatigue, and lay half through the night joyfully discussing the probable results of the battle.

Every one agreed that the Austrians would now be compelled to fall back on Pesth. Very few, if any, suspected that from our victory was to spring the ruin of the national cause.

Görgei was not the man to let the grass grow under his feet, and the next day Klapka and Damjanics received orders to march on Waitzen, the town standing on the bend where the Danube sweeps round to the south, while one corps remained behind to hoodwink Windischgratz.

Nothing of interest occurred during the march, and we reached Waitzen on the morning of April 9 without having met a sign of the enemy.

The town was unfortified; but the Austrian general, Gatz, commanding two brigades, had resolved upon a vigorous defence, as we soon found.

The 9th Honveds formed part of the vanguard, and after a sharp struggle we succeeded in forcing a way into the streets.

Here our progress was instantly checked. The old-fashioned lane in which we found ourselves was so narrow that the inmates of the houses, by leaning out of window, could almost shake hands with their opposite neighbours.

Across this lane three barricades had been constructed in such a manner that, while the second commanded the first, the third overawed both.

Carried away by what was, perhaps, a natural impulse, the men, without waiting for orders, rushed at the nearest barrier, and were mowed down in scores.

I suppose it is the sense of being shut up in a corner, with little chance of escape, that makes street fighting so savage. Certainly I have never seen so furious a conflict in the open field as behind the barricades in Waitzen.

From the shouts and cries of the combatants, and the firing of guns, we recognized that our comrades were fighting their way, step by step, in other directions, and I for one hoped some of them would come to our assistance by taking the barricades in the rear.

The attack having failed, the men came dropping back in disorder, being exposed not only to the fire from the barrier, but also from the windows of the houses, which were garrisoned by soldiers.

Meanwhile, the pressure behind being relieved, the colonel rallied the regiment into something like order again.

"It's no use trying for the barricade like that, my lads," he exclaimed cheerfully; "we're only knocking our heads against a stone wall. What we have to do is to clear the houses one by one."

This was really the only workmanlike way of doing the business, though it added much to the horrors of the combat.

The Austrians inside the buildings forced us to fight for every room in each house. They made a barricade of every article of furniture, and a fortress of every staircase. While we fought those below, their comrades in the upper stories picked us off with their rifles; and when their ammunition was exhausted they clambered over to the next house, or dropped into the street.

In this fashion we worked our way to the buildings overlooking the first barricade, which now became useless, and was immediately abandoned.

The last man to leave was their leader, and at sight of him my heart beat fast.

He stood on the barricade, coolly directing the movements of his men, while the bullets fell round him like hailstones.

In one hand was his sword; in the other he carried the black and yellow flag of his country.

He did not seem in any kind of hurry, but waited patiently till the soldiers had entered the houses; then, and not till then, he left his post.

He had not seen me; but I recognized him at once, and trembled for his safety.

I had never met this noble veteran since leaving Vienna, and had hoped the war might end without our coming face to face. How could I ever look into the pretty fräulein's eyes again if by any chance my sword should cross that of her father's?

For this Austrian leader, whose bravery even the Magyars applauded, was Baron von Arnstein, and it was plain he would yield that narrow passage only with his life.

Happily, perhaps, I had little leisure for thinking. The first barricade being down, the fight continued with redoubled fury.

And now, adding new horror to the scene, fire broke out; and by the time we had fought our way to the second barricade, it was necessary for both sides to abandon the houses.

The third barrier must be taken by a rush along the narrow lane, or not at all.

By this time the regiment had lost half its strength. Both the majors were down--dead or wounded, we knew not which--and many other officers; but the survivors, instead of being cowed by this great loss, were only the more eager to go on.

So, in the midst of the smoke and the flames from the burning houses, we took our lives in our hands and ran, Rakoczy leading.

"Forward!" he cried. "Forward!" echoed the Honveds, and a spectator would have thought our fierce rush alone must have swept the Austrians into eternity.

But on the barricade, still grasping the black and yellow flag, there stood a man to whom fear was an unknown quantity, and whose one idea was to do the duty entrusted to him.

I watched him with the keenest interest as he collected his forces to withstand the shock.

Rakoczy saw him too, and his genial brow clouded. It grieved him sorely to think he must fight against his old acquaintance; but, like the Austrian baron, the Magyar had a duty to perform, and there was no trace of faltering in his voice as he urged his men to the assault.

The next moment the white-coats poured in their volley. Many of our fellows dropped, Rakoczy amongst them. The rest of us rushed on wildly, to be stopped by a second volley more destructive than the first.

Then some one shouted lustily that the colonel was dead; and the Honveds, with victory within their grasp, ran back, while the enemy cheered exultingly.

Sad at heart, I returned to the spot where my gallant friend had fallen and, with the help of Mecsey Sándor, who followed me everywhere like a shadow, bore his body back.

It was terrible to think I had not time even to find out if he were really dead!

We laid him down reverently, and I immediately began to re-form the broken regiment; for so fierce had been the fighting, that of the officers able to enter action I was the senior.

Very gladly I would have yielded the honour and responsibility to another; but as that could not be, I resolved to do my best.

"Will you follow me, my lads?" I cried, when we were again ready.

"We will!" they answered, with a shout.

"Then come on! Over the barricade this time!"

It is curious how a phrase, or sometimes even a word, will work on a number of men acting together.

There is nothing very striking in "Over the barricade this time!" yet the words were caught up by the soldiers, repeated again and again, and more than one man died with them on his lips.

They sounded high and clear above the noise of the first volley, and as we pressed on the wounded sent them after us feebly.

I really believe they kept us going after the next volley fired at close range, and certainly they were roared out most lustily as the first of the stormers appeared on the stronghold.

It was Dobozy carrying the colours; but he missed his footing and fell down, half stunned, but otherwise unhurt.

A little, muscular fellow picked up the fallen flag, and sprang with it to my side, while the others rushed pell-mell after us.

I had purposely avoided Von Arnstein, who was to the right of me; but, like a true leader, he soon scented where the danger was greatest, and cut a way to that part of his stronghold where the red, white, and green proudly waved.

Twice we went back to the very edge of the barrier, and once the colours were snatched from our grasp by a grizzled veteran, who laughed defiantly as a Magyar cut him down.

To right and left of us the flames of the burning buildings threw a lurid glare on the scene, and some one excitedly shouted that the barricade was on fire.

We heard the shout, but it had no effect on the fighting. It did not prevent a blow being struck, nor cause the foot of Magyar or Austrian to move an inch backward.

We had gripped one another, as it were, by the throat, and hung there like bulldogs.

When I look back at that terrible fight, I find the picture for the most part blurred and indistinct; but there is just one tiny part of it whose colour is vivid and its drawing bold.

It will always be so, I suppose, though I do not care to see it.

Over and over again I had gone out of my way to avoid the gallant leader, had plunged with foolhardy recklessness into the greatest dangers, and he had followed my steps with strange persistence.

I do not think he had a moment's suspicion who I was until at last the chances of the fight brought us face to face.

That is the one corner of the picture where the colours have not faded. All around is a blur; but two figures stand out lifelike.

One is that of a youth with torn uniform, his smoke-begrimed features working with excitement, his sword held in the most awkward manner either for attack or defence.

The other is the figure of an old man, his breast covered with medals and decorations, of commanding carriage, and with a proud look in his keen blue eyes.

Close by, my fancy paints the face of a beautiful girl gazing mournfully at the youth and the old man--the Magyar and the Austrian.

I know it is not really there, yet I see it as plainly as I did on that terrible day in the years gone by.

The tide had at last turned in our favour; the Austrians were yielding slowly, when their leader made his final effort. Cheered by his voice, they rallied once more, and then it was we met.

The look which flashed from his eyes to mine occupied the merest fraction of a second, yet I shall never forget it.

I read there astonishment and sorrow, then a certain hardness, as if the brave old warrior were calling duty to his aid.

With him the struggle ended, and the soldier, not the friend, gained the victory.

I saw his determination quite plainly, and yet could not bring myself to parry the blow. Who could tell what might happen if once our swords crossed?

Theresa was looking into my eyes, and, as I lowered my weapon, she smiled upon me approvingly and vanished.

Perhaps the baron would have drawn back; but he was in the very act of delivering his stroke, and I nerved myself to meet it.

The sword shone red in the glow of the flames; but before it descended another piece of steel flashed past me, and pierced the baron's chest.

Mecsey Sándor had no scruples in killing any one to save his master's life, which the faithful fellow undoubtedly had done.

At the fall of their chief the Austrians abandoned the position, upon which I ordered the regiment to fall in a little beyond the burning houses.

Just then a man clapped me lightly on the shoulder, saying, "Thanks, George!" and, turning, I beheld the colonel.

The men recognized him too, and broke into hearty cheering.

"We have suffered so severely," I said, "that I stopped the pursuit."

"Quite right. Let others follow; we must see to the wounded, or they will be burned to death. The barricade's in a blaze, and--"

"The baron!" I exclaimed. "He lies there, dead or dangerously wounded. Let me have some men."

"As many as you please. Dobozy--"

I hurried off at once, and, selecting a score of fellows, ran to the barrier, which appeared to be enveloped in flames. True, it was not quite as bad as that, but we had barely time to remove the injured and some of the dead when the whole pile fell in with a crash, and the heavens were reddened by a broad sheet of flame.

I found Von Arnstein just where he had fallen, and had him carried to a house some distance off, where I went, immediately the work of rescue was finished.

Our comrades had been equally successful in other parts of the town, and Waitzen was in our hands, though we had paid a heavier price for it than was reckoned on.

In a state of utter dejection I entered the room where the baron lay on a bed, and it scarcely needed the surgeon's significant gesture to kill the tiny germ of hope in my breast. I crossed the room with noiseless steps and looked at the dying man.

The surgeon had cut away a part of his coat and shirt, the more easily to get at the wound, but a glance showed even to me that all his skill was vain.

Mecsey Sándor's arm was strong, and in defence of his master he had struck with all his might.

The veteran's face was bloodless, but he lay quite still, and I rejoiced to think he suffered little pain.

As I bent over him his eyes opened, and he gazed at me languidly, but without a sign of recognition.

"Baron," I said softly, "don't you know me, George Botskay, the young Hungarian you saved from prison? I was once able to do a little service for your daughter."

How much of this he understood I cannot say, but the last word certainly made an impression, for a happy smile lit up his wan face, and he murmured to himself what sounded like "Tessie."

This I took to be an endearing name for his daughter.

His strength was soon exhausted, his eyes closed again, and I thought he was dead.

"No," said the surgeon, "he will rally at the end; it cannot be far off."

"An hour?"

"More likely two. He is a strong man, or he would have gone before this."

Borrowing a piece of paper from the owner of the house, I wrote a note to Rakoczy, requesting leave to stay with the baron, and sent it by a soldier. Then I sat down by the bedside to wait for the end.

CHAPTER XIII.

A VISIT FROM STEPHEN.

The surgeon, who could do nothing further, slipped out quietly, asking as he went if he should send any one to bear me company.

I shook my head, preferring to keep that solemn watch alone.

In truth, my heart was exceedingly sad both for the dying man and for his dear ones in Vienna, who would await his return in vain.

The manner of his death also sorely grieved me. Certainly my hand had not struck him down, but Sándor had slain him to save my life.

It was foolish, perhaps, to dwell on the thought, but I could not thrust it out. I felt that but for me the baron would still have been at the head of his regiment.

The house was very still, and even the noises from the captured town failed to reach me.

The fires in the street had been extinguished, but now the glowing crimson of the setting sun flooded the room, and as its light fell athwart the bed the dying man moved restlessly.

"Let it burn!" he muttered. "All the better for us. Ready? Mind your aim! Fire!"

His eyes were wide open, gazing with intense keenness across the room.

"Ach!" he continued. "They have it now! Who? The colonel? That will stop them! Sorry--knew him--Vienna. What? Again? Steady now! Here they come!"

His brow was wet with perspiration, and, as I bent over to wipe it off, the dying glory of the sun shone full into my face.

At this the baron's excitement increased, and he muttered to himself at a great rate, while I, dipping a rag in water, bathed his forehead continually.

By degrees he became calmer; the wild light died from his eyes; he ceased to mutter, and presently looked into my face with a reasoning though puzzled expression.

"George Botskay," I said, trying to help his memory. "Don't you know? You stood my friend in Vienna."

He smiled faintly, but with intelligence, and, moving his hand, pointed to the window, as if wishing to direct my attention to something outside.

"The barricade?" I ventured questioningly.

He smiled again and dropped his hand in mine.

"Good lad," he murmured; "I saw and understood--afterwards."

"I am sorry," I began; but he checked me, saying,--

"A soldier's death, my boy. That is best--for me."

He was getting very weak now, and I heard him with great difficulty.

Some words I did not hear at all, and others only imperfectly; but I managed to understand what he wished done, and promised to do it.

His requests, poor fellow, were very simple. He desired only that the miniature of his wife, which hung round his neck, should be given to Theresa, and his massive wedding-ring to the baroness.

As I gently drew the latter from his finger, his mind wandered once more, and he talked to himself of bygone days and events of which I knew nothing.

From the delights of peace he passed to the horrors of the battlefield, and then right back to the time of his childhood, when he was a happy, careless boy at his mother's side.

Here he ended, and, rather to my surprise, just as the last gleam of the setting sun faded, he died with the sacred name of "mother" on his lips.

Taking a long look at the face now so calm and still, I covered it reverently, and went away on tiptoe, as if the noise of my footsteps could disturb the dead.

Outside I met the colonel, and returned with him to the room.

"Poor fellow!" he exclaimed, after gazing a moment at the white face. "What a blow for the pretty fräulein! I'll warrant he made an idol of her. War's an awful thing, George, when you come to strip the gilding off. I would not like to have the responsibility of one on my shoulders, though I'm a soldier born and bred. How many thousands of widows and orphans are cursing us at this very moment! Well, well; we must give the baron a decent funeral in the morning," and he led me away.

The town seemed very quiet after the tremendous uproar of the day.

The fires had been put out; the Austrians were in retreat; and our army was chasing them into that very mountain district where Görgei had led us in January.

Our own regiment, having suffered so severely, was left behind, and I really felt glad of the change.

The colonel had taken up his quarters in a decent house, and there at supper we were joined by the surviving officers of the regiment.

Several of the absentees were dead, but the majority were in hospital, and, though badly wounded, expected to recover.

"Just like our luck!" said the colonel, as we sat chatting over what had happened. "We took the very strongest street in the town. The other fellows had a pleasure jaunt, compared with our march."

"Who was the Austrian officer?" asked a sublieutenant. "I hope he escaped; he was a splendid chap."

"That was Baron von Arnstein," the colonel replied. "I'm sorry to say he was killed. I mean to bury him to-morrow with military honours."

"He deserves all the respect we can show him," Dobozy chimed in.

"There's one thing puzzles me, colonel," I said, "and that is, how you escaped. I saw you fall, and thought you were dead."

For the first time that night Rakoczy's face lit up with his genial smile.

"I carry a bullet-catcher," he answered pleasantly; and taking a massive gold watch from his breast-pocket, he handed it to me.

"They've spoiled it as a time-keeper," he continued, "but it will come in as a curiosity."

The watch had a double cover, and was enclosed in a bag of thick chamois leather, a part of which had been forced into the case by the impact of the bullet.

The case itself was badly battered and the works smashed.

I passed it to the other fellows, who examined it in profound astonishment and warmly congratulated the colonel on his marvellous escape.

"Yes," said he brightly; "but for that watch Görgei might have looked for a new colonel."

"We prefer to keep our old one, though he does wear a watch that won't tell the time," I remarked.

Dobozy asked if it could be mended, but the colonel said he preferred keeping it as it was, which I certainly should have done.

We did not sit long, having to rise early; and in the morning, as soon as it could be managed, Rakoczy turned out the regiment to pay the last honours to our valiant opponent.

We buried him in the Catholic cemetery, where I made arrangements for a handsome stone to be erected in his memory. It stands there to this day.

When all was over, the men marched back to the strains of martial music, while I felt as sorrowful as if we had been assisting to bury a valued friend.

Fortunately, a soldier on active service has little leisure in which to indulge his grief, and thus it was with me now.

So greatly had the regiment lost in officers that the survivors were compelled to do more than double duty, and for several days I had not an hour to myself.

One event, though not exactly bearing on my story, must be chronicled, since it shows the generosity of Görgei's nature.

During the fierce fighting on the ninth of April the Austrian general, Gatz, had fallen while at the head of his men, and our chief, anxious to honour the memory of a gallant adversary, did on a large scale what we had done for Von Arnstein, and accorded him a magnificent military funeral.

The display was of a most imposing description, and when the body of the brave Austrian had been laid to rest, the ceremony was concluded by the discharge of a hundred guns.

Meanwhile, grave events were taking place. Just as the battle of Isaszeg had cut off the Austrian right wing, so now their left was completely broken up, and it became plain that Windischgratz must evacuate Pesth.

"Another stroke like the last," said Rakoczy one evening as we sat chatting in his room, "and the thing will be done."

"Unless Kossuth's party should try to drive too hard a bargain."

"Oh no," replied the colonel cheerfully. "The Austrians know exactly what we want. The emperor has only to be crowned King of Hungary, and swear to restore our ancient rights. He will do that as soon as our army appears under the walls of Vienna."

"It isn't much, especially when--"

A loud banging at the door cut the sentence short, and in walked my brother, looking flushed and excited.

Neither of us had seen him since the meeting at Isaszeg, and we had not the faintest notion he was in Waitzen.

He shook hands with us warmly, drank a glass of wine which Rakoczy poured out, and sat down.

"Care to turn in?" asked the colonel. "My bed's doing nothing, and you look tired."

Stephen shook his head. "I'm off in a couple of hours; only waiting to rest my horse."

"There's nothing wrong, I hope?"

"Nothing wrong!" exclaimed my brother. "Everything's wrong! Haven't you heard the news from Debreczin? Here, read this!" and he drew a printed paper from his pocket.

The colonel spread it on the table, and as he read the contents aloud I began to understand the meaning of Stephen's words.

The document, signed by the members of the National Diet, proclaimed in vigorous language the independence of Hungary. The House of Hapsburg-Lorraine was deposed, its members banished from the country, and Hungary, as a free state, was to be governed by Kossuth.

"What do you think of it?" asked Stephen testily, as if we had drawn up the proclamation.

"'Twould be rather more to the point to know what Görgei thinks of it," the colonel replied in his cool way. "I suppose he wasn't consulted over this--waste paper?"

"Yes he was, and went dead against it. Kossuth came to Godolo, and there was a very stormy meeting, I can tell you."

"What did Görgei say?"

"That we didn't want a republic, and wouldn't have one. That our soldiers were royalists, and in arms to defend the constitution--not to depose the king. In short, that Kossuth's scheme would plunge the country into misery."

"It means a Russian invasion," remarked Rakoczy. "It means the loss of all the Sclavonic states, and Hungary dragooned into another Poland."

My brother tossed his head contemptuously. "We would chance all that," he said. "A Magyar doesn't stop to count the odds against him; but we aren't going to spill blood like water, just to make Kossuth dictator!"

"We can't draw back now," I said.

"That's just it. We must either continue fighting, or desert our country when it has the greatest need of us."

"Stuff!" said Stephen. "Were I Görgei, I would settle the matter in a month."

Rakoczy bubbled over with laughter; but, seeing how much in earnest my brother was, he tried hard to keep a straight face, and asked how he proposed to do it.

"It's very simple," Stephen replied. "The army is devoted to Görgei, and will do what he wishes. Let him swoop down on the Austrians, win another battle--which would be easy enough--and then offer to close the war, on condition that our ancient rights are restored."

"And what of this?" I asked, laying my hand on the declaration of independence.

"Pooh! It will be useful to the people for wrapping up parcels."

"I believe the plan would work out all right," said Rakoczy thoughtfully, "but we mustn't try it. Don't you see, my boy, that it would open a civil war, and we should have to join the Austrians in crushing our own people. No, no. Rather let Hungary become an Austrian fief than that Magyar should destroy Magyar."

"The other side doesn't study that."

"All the more reason why we should. How would you like to help the Austrians burn down Pesth, because Louis Kossuth was inside it?"

Stephen turned away with a shudder. "It seems that we must tie our own hands," he remarked gloomily.

"You've hit it exactly; but we can untie them to fight against the enemy. By the way, our acquaintance, Baron von Arnstein, is dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that. What a blow to his pretty daughter!"

"And to the baroness. But come; in the general excitement I quite forgot to ask you to eat," and the colonel ordered supper to be laid immediately.

We had barely finished when a clatter of hoofs was heard outside, and a soldier brought word that Captain Botskay's horses were ready.

"Then I must go," exclaimed my brother, "though that wretched paper has taken the heart out of my work."

"Yes," said the colonel, after he had gone. "This precious document will work the cause more harm than the loss of a dozen battles."

Now I would not have you suppose we bore any ill-will to Louis Kossuth and his party; but we did not belong to them, their aims were not ours, and, in addition, we believed they were grasping at more than they were able to hold.

Of Kossuth's genius and marvellous eloquence, of his untiring energy, his passionate love for Hungary and hatred to Austria, I have already spoken.

He caused the raw material of armies to start from the soil; he created money, manufactured guns, turned the ploughshares into swords and bayonets, stored ammunition, roused the people to the highest pitch of enthusiasm, and was, in short, the mainspring of the revolution amongst the civilians.

He did not profess to be a soldier, and the taunts that he never appeared on the battle-field, except to run away, I held to be both unjust and ungenerous. His place was at the council chamber, not in the camp. Whether he was ambitious for himself, I know not; and it matters little, as the gulf between us was so vast that it could not be bridged.

We, the party of the nobles and most of the old soldiers in Görgei's army, wished only to regain our ancient rights. Kossuth and his friends openly endeavoured to make Hungary into a republic. In the days of our adversity the little rift was not seen; now it suddenly became a yawning chasm.

From the general to the private arose murmurs of discontent, and I verily believe that, had Görgei done what my brother proposed, he would have carried the army with him to a man.

Some even to this day blame him for not exerting his strength at the critical moment; but when I think of the awful misery which must have followed, I am glad that he acted as he did. Each day now brought us news of some further success. Everywhere the Austrians fell back, until at length we heard that our centre had entered Pesth, which the enemy had evacuated on the previous day.

Much to our surprise, there came with this information an order for the 9th Honveds to fall back on the capital.

Rakoczy, of course, instantly set about obeying, but he was obviously ill at ease, as Görgei was still chasing the flying Austrians to Presburg.

"It seems to me we ought to march forward to Vienna, not back to Pesth," he exclaimed.

I pointed out that the Austrians had probably left a garrison in Buda.

"Well? What of it?" he asked. "You don't suppose we're going to waste precious time there, while the imperialists rally? Why, all we have to do now is to keep them running till they reach Vienna. I really thought you were a better soldier than that, George."

"I daresay you will find me up to the government standard," I replied, laughing at the wry face he made.

Several of the officers and many of the men were by this time fit to resume duty, but numerous familiar faces were still missing when the regiment started on its way to Pesth.

We found the capital filled with citizens and soldiers in a state of high glee. Now that the Austrians had really disappeared, they thought that the war was over and done with.

Our regiment, which received quite an ovation from the crowd, was quartered in the barracks, and during several days we had leisure to roam about the bright and beautiful city.

The red, white, and green stripes fluttered proudly from the tops of the magnificent palaces. Nobles and ladies rode by in handsome carriages drawn by fine Hungarian horses. The streets were crowded by soldiers in uniform and citizens dressed in the national costume. Every one was in the highest spirits and the utmost good-humour.

One blot existed on the pleasant scene--the black and yellow flag floating from the Buda fortress (on the other side of the river), which sheltered General Hentzi with 3,000 veterans and 90 guns; but for the moment it was ignored.

"What a magnificent spectacle!" exclaimed Rakoczy, as we strolled one morning along the river embankments, and gazed at the blue waters of the mighty Danube. "I sometimes think there can scarcely be a finer sight in the world than the twin cities present. Look at the Blocksberg on the other side of the river."

"A fine place to batter the fortress from," I said.

"Oh! let us forget the war a bit; we shall soon be in harness again."

"Very well. We'll talk about the feats of civilization. There's a fine example!" and I pointed to that triumph of engineering skill, the noble suspension bridge built by an Englishman named Clarke; it joins the two cities by spanning the river.

I had rarely seen my friend so strangely moved. His face became quite sad, his eyes were dim, and when he spoke his voice was husky.

"Hungary owes that, as she owes almost everything else in modern years, to as true a patriot as ever lived," he said softly. "You did not know Count Stephen Szechenyi?"

"Only by repute," I answered.

"No; his best work was done before your time. He was Hungary's great man, George. Kossuth, Batthiany, and Görgei have simply entered into the fruits of his labour. He built the foundations sure, and firm, and strong. It was in '25 that he rose in the Diet, and addressed the assembly in the Magyar tongue; till then the debates had been conducted in Latin. He toiled early and late, in season and out of season. He gave his fortune, his brains, his leisure, to his country; even his reason was sacrificed; and now, a broken and helpless wreck, he is an inmate of an Austrian lunatic asylum. Patriot and martyr, he has been cast aside like a broken reed. The people have a fresh hero now--one who can tickle their fancies and flatter their vanity by his burning eloquence--a brand-new hero, my boy. Let the old one go rot."

We walked on a little way in silence, and then with his usual cheery smile my companion added,--

"The fit doesn't come often, and is soon over, but it's hot while it lasts. Really, though, when I think of Count Stephen's ruined life, and how he was tossed aside at last, I feel awfully wild. Now let us turn back; there's still time for a stroll in the town before we are due at the barracks. Hallo! there's Count Beula. Pass him with a nod if you can; I don't like that fellow."

However, the count, whom we had not seen since the revolt in Vienna, had no mind that we should pass unrecognized.

He was dressed in the uniform of a staff officer, and walked with a military swagger that was not without a certain grace.

At first he affected astonishment at seeing us in the Honved uniform, saying he thought we had joined the Austrians. Then he congratulated us on the declaration of independence, and hoped we should have a part in the capture of Buda.

All this he spoke in the smoothest tones, choosing his words so that they might wound and yet afford no handle for offence, smiling when he hurt us most, pretending he thought we were pleased, and inquiring for Stephen, whom he hated, as if the two were the closest friends.

I, being young, could not conceal my annoyance; but Rakoczy gave the count smile for smile, jest for jest, praise of Kossuth in return for praise of Görgei, and, in fact, as the French say, a Roland for his Oliver every time.

"A clever, smooth-tongued rascal," exclaimed he, when at length the count took himself off. "I wonder where he has been."

"At Debreczin, most likely; he's just the sort of man to do his soldiering in the drawing-room."

"I'm not so sure of that. A boaster isn't always a coward. Did you hear what he said about the taking of Buda?"

"Yes."

"That comes from Kossuth, you may depend; and if so, all is lost."

"Unless Görgei interferes."

"Ah!" said the colonel, "he loves his country too much for that," and we walked on without further conversation.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE QUARREL WITH COUNT BEULA.

One result of the declaration of independence was an inrush of foreigners: Poles, Germans, French, Italians swarmed into the country on all sides.

These men were all red-hot republicans, and, except the Poles, fought not so much out of love to Hungary as from hatred to the Austrian government.

Naturally they helped to swell Kossuth's party, and talked loudly of maintaining the struggle till Hungary was acknowledged an independent republic; while some, going still farther, demanded that the Russians should be expelled from Poland, and the two countries joined together.

At first, however, the real dispute centered on the next step in the war. Görgei, who had returned to Pesth, pointed out that by staying to capture Buda we should lose our only opportunity of crushing the Austrians while they were still weak and feeble.

Kossuth, on the other hand, had resolved that Buda should first fall; and at length the general reluctantly yielded.

It was a great mistake, and we of the army felt it to be such; but a soldier's duty is to obey, and not to question.

Amongst ourselves and in the city we talked hotly enough, and many passionate words were spoken in the heat of anger.

On our side, none were so furious as Stephen, who had come to Pesth with his chief.

He expressed his opinions freely, gaining thereby no love from the foreigners, and openly boasted that he would not be chained to the triumphal car of Louis Kossuth.

Several times I begged him to moderate his language; but he only laughed, saying that, now Kossuth had made Hungary free, there was no need for him to be silent.

I was the more amazed at my brother's behaviour, because it was so much out of harmony with his real character; but there seemed to be a kind of spell on him, which he was unable to shake off.

One evening he was holding forth to Rakoczy, myself, and several others in a restaurant, when Count Beula entered with some friends.