Volume 2 — CHAPTER I. (continued 2)

The lady of the house, too, hastened to the door to receive her guests, and to offer them breakfast, which Mr. Catspaw volunteered to decline for himself and partners, saying that it was eleven o'clock, and that they must make haste to commence business.

"We cannot possibly get through the case to-day," observed Mr. Kishlaki.

"And why not, domine spectabilis? Why not?" asked the assessor. "Please to consider that the court-martial must sit till the execution is over; and to-morrow I must be at home, for there's the ploughing and the potato harvest."

"Of course!" cried Shoskuty. "We are commissioners of courts-martial, and a court-martial we are bound to make of it. The culprit is in attendance, we are five commissioners; my young friend Völgyeshy has come to assist us. It will take him just ten minutes to write the verdict. God forbid," continued he, with a low bow to the lady of the house, "God forbid that we should trouble your ladyship longer than we can help!"

"No trouble, indeed; no trouble whatever!" cried Lady Kishlaki, with a burst of genuine good-natured hospitality; "but I trust you do not mean to hang the poor fellow?"

"Of course we do!" laughed the assessor. "I've sat in fifteen courts-martial in the course of my life, and we never rose without hanging the culprit. Courts-martial are for that sort of thing, you know."

Lady Kishlaki had been solicited by Viola's wife to interfere in her husband's behalf. The good old lady did all she could for the poor woman. She assigned a room to her and the children, and, moved by Susi's entreaties, she promised to save Viola's life, if a woman's tongue could save it. But the determined tone in which the assessor delivered his last sentence, showed her how little hope there was. She replied, nevertheless, that Viola was perhaps less guilty than people fancied.

"I most humbly beg your ladyship's pardon," replied Baron Shoskuty, with his proverbial politeness; "whether his guilt be greater or lesser, it's all the same to us. The only question to ask is, 'Is the prisoner a robber or not?' We do not care whether he killed a hundred people, or whether he never took human life, whether he stole a million or a fourpenny piece; all we ask is; is he a robber? and how was he taken? If taken in arms, and in the fact of actual resistance, we hang him, so please your ladyship."

"But it does not please my ladyship. You cannot possibly hang the poor fellow for a few pence!"

"Nothing more simple," said the assessor, with great unction, "if the case come within the jurisdiction of a court-martial. I have seen cases in which the man whom we hanged would have been let off with a fortnight's confinement by the ordinary courts; but as he fell into our hands, we tied him up."

"I am a weak and ignorant woman," retorted Lady Kishlaki, with increasing vehemence; "but if I'd been there, I'll warrant you, you would not have done it!"

"Of course not! Nothing more natural!" replied Baron Shoskuty, who never let an opportunity go by of paying a compliment to a lady; "your ladyship is the milk, nay, the cream of human kindness! We are rude and uncharitable men. The county has sent us to make an example, and we are bound to make one."

"I beg your pardon," said Mr. Catspaw, who had given unmistakeable signs of impatience; "time presses,—hadn't we better begin?"

"If you like," said Kishlaki, greatly confused, "we have to examine the witnesses and——"

"We'll soon get the better of the witnesses," said Mr. Skinner. "There is no difficulty in the case. We'd get twice through it before dinner time."

"Viola is as guilty as anybody ever was!" cried Mr. Catspaw, as he walked to the door.

"If he is, it will be shown by the evidence," said a loud sonorous voice; "one ought never to pre-judge a case."

Everybody looked at Völgyeshy, who had spoken the last sentence. The attorney walked up to Mr. Skinner and whispered: "I don't like the fellow!" But Lady Kishlaki, who had hitherto paid no attention to the ill-favoured young man, looked kindly at him.

"You are right," said she; "it's hard that a man should be judged before his case has been inquired into. I know you will pity him."

"I am not an assessor, and have no vote," replied Mr. Völgyeshy, as he left the room with the rest of the party. Mr. Kishlaki remained alone with his wife.

"Consider, Valentine," said she, taking him by the hand—"consider that a sentence of death cannot be pronounced unless the judges are unanimous. Every one of you is highly responsible for the death of this man."

"I know, my love; and if it depends on me—that is to say, if it is possible—I am not bloodthirsty, you know, but——"

"I know you must do your duty; but pray consider that the life of a man, if once taken, cannot be restored!"

"I will do all I can!" sighed the old man, cursing the day on which he accepted his office; and leaving the room, he followed his colleagues to the steward's office, where everything was prepared for the accommodation of the court. Servants, and peasants armed with pitchforks, were posted at the gate to keep the crowd at a distance. Under the shed stood Viola, tied to a post and surrounded by haiduks and Pandurs. In the hall were Tzifra, and Jantshy, the glazier, who had been summoned as witnesses for the prosecution; and at a distance stood the Liptaka and the smith of Tissaret, who volunteered to give evidence for the defence.

"God have mercy upon his soul!" said the Liptaka. "I have little hope."

"So have I," said the smith; "and the thing which grieves me most is that the two rascals there are going to escape," he added, pointing at Tzifra and the Jew.

"I'd like to know who'll hang him!" said an old woman to her neighbour. "I trust they'll have a clever hangman! They say people suffer dreadfully if the hangman does not know his trade."

"Indeed, I heard them say that there's a gipsy that'll hang him. Mayhap it's the sheriff's gipsy. Look there!—there he is. Look how he casts his eyes around! Dear me! I'm afraid of him!"

"Don't talk such nonsense, Verush," said an old man; "Peti is Viola's friend. It's he that brought the children from Tissaret. Did you not see him talking to Viola's wife? Susi would not talk to him in that way, if he were the man that is to hang her husband. Not even yourself would have done that when your husband was alive. But I say, Verush, you'd not occasion for a hangman, eh? You are the woman can worry a man to death and be never the worse for it, eh?"

"How dare you say so!" screamed the widow. "Didn't I have a doctor in his last illness?"

"Never mind!" said another woman. "Tell me who is going to hang him."

"I don't know," said the man.

"Perhaps they won't hang him. They'll give him a pardon."

"A pardon, indeed!" said the man. "Don't you see it's a court-martial. You may whistle for a pardon, if you please."

"What is a court-martial?"

"Why! don't you know? A court-martial is—why it's that the gentlemen sit down together and consult, and hang some one. That's as it ought to be."

"But suppose no one hangs him?"

"How can you ask such stupid questions? To hang a man you must have him first; but who ever heard of a man being sentenced to hanging and let off for the want of a hangman?"

"Just so; but suppose it were to happen after all? What then?"

"Hang me if I know! perhaps the gentlemen themselves will hang him, or they'll hang themselves with disappointment and vexation."[25]

The proceedings of the court commenced meanwhile by the swearing in of the judges, the reading of the articles of court-martial, and by Mr. Skinner's laying on the table a written form of indictment, or, in Hungarian judicial language, the "species facti." Mr. Völgyeshy's conduct, while these preliminary forms were being got through, was such as to fill the judges with astonishment and disgust. Not only did he read the articles with a loud, clear voice, slowly enunciating and pronouncing every word, instead of giving merely the heads of the various paragraphs; but he also interrupted Mr. Skinner, who wished to relieve the dulness of the lecture by a friendly chat with his neighbour on the bench, by reminding him that the articles were read for the purpose of being listened to. But the disgust of the court was infinitely increased when, after the reading of the "species facti," and when they were just in the act of sending for the prisoner, Völgyeshy stopped the proceedings by protesting that the "species facti" was by no means such as to warrant the jurisdiction of a court-martial in the present case.

"Not warrant the jurisdiction of a court-martial!" said Mr. Skinner; "and how dare you, Mr. Völgyeshy, dare to say so to me—the oldest judge of the county? On my word and honour, sir, you come it strong, sir!"

"You are mistaken if you misconstrue my words into an intention of offering you an insult."

"Intention? Insult? Why, sir, it is an insult! it's a downright, root-and-branch, roaring insult, that's what it is!" shouted Mr. Skinner; and, turning to the court, he continued:—

"I intreat this praiseworthy court to consider chapter vi. paragraph 8., where it is provided that 'A recital of the facts is to be submitted to the court, stating the crime of which the prisoner stands accused, his Christian and surname, and his age, the latter to be written with words and letters instead of with the signs of numbers, &c. &c.'

"Now look at my report! Does it not state the facts, the crimes, the names of the prisoner? does it not state his age, and, you will observe, his age according to the instructions? Does this gentleman mean to insinuate that I am not able to write a 'species facti?' that I am too stupid to take a man's age down according to instructions? This is the worst thing I ever heard of! It's downright pettifogging, that it is; and I won't be treated in this way, that I won't, no, not by any man, and least of all by you, sir!"

The president and the assessors did their best to calm the fury of the worthy magistrate; but if that fury was intended to prevent Völgyeshy from urging his protest, it proved a signal failure, for the young man persisted in declaring that he was fully convinced of Mr. Skinner's ability to make out a correct statement of the facts, but that this very correct and authentic statement of the facts did not show that the robber had been overtaken and captured in the course of an uninterrupted pursuit; "for this," added Mr. Völgyeshy, "is one of the first conditions of a case for a court-martial."

"Not an uninterrupted pursuit!" roared Mr. Skinner; "why, a price has been offered for his head; for months he has been hunted through the county, and here's this lad wants to deny the uninterrupted pursuit!"

"Just so, domine spectabilis!" said the assessor, smiling; "it's the worst plea I ever heard of,—denique, our friend is young. But let us see the culprit."

"And I tell you again," said Völgyeshy, "that this report does not prove an uninterrupted pursuit. Viola's last crime was his theft in the house of the notary of Tissaret, and the pursuit was neither instantaneous nor uninterrupted."

"If it's not a case for a court-martial," said Kishlaki, eager to escape from the discharge of his painful duties, "we had better send it to the sessions. For inasmuch——"

"For God's sake, do not say so! What a shame if Viola were to go to the sessions! I am sure they'd rob us of the right of court-martial; and it would serve us right, if we were to allow such a case to escape us."

"It seems Mr. Völgyeshy is not aware that courts-martial are held to try and execute thieves and robbers," said Mr. Catspaw; "and that in the case of any such person being pursued, and making an armed resistance, there can be no question as to the jurisdiction of the court."

"I am fully aware of it, sir; but in what manner does this report show that Viola is a robber?"

Here the assessor Zatonyi held up his hands.

"How is it shown?" said he; "does not the report set forth that Viola is a robber? Don't you see r-o-b-b-e-r? If that does not mean robber, I'll try myself by court-martial, and hang myself too."

"I beg your pardon," cried Baron Shoskuty, "I will explain the matter to Mr. Völgyeshy. He is young, and wants experience; for such things are not to be learnt from books. You see, sir, the articles of courts-martial give us long explanations about the cases and individuals to which the term of robber applies. These explanations are very good in their way; excellent, sir! but, sir, they are not practical. He is a robber in Hungary whom public opinion designates as such. Vox populi, vox dei! and if such a person resists an arrest, he is de jure tried by court-martial, and hanged."

"Merely for resisting the arrest?"

"Yes," said Baron Shoskuty, majestically, "merely for that reason. Resistance to the law is criminal, except in the case of noblemen."

"But surely we are not here to discuss law matters," said the assessor. "Besides, Mr. Völgyeshy has no vote. If any of the other gentlemen stick to the question, we'll divide, and there's an end of it."

"All this is very well," said Kishlaki, "but I'd like——"

"I say luce meridiana clarius! brighter than the light of day. The case is within our jurisdiction. But no matter—let us divide."

The result of the division was that the witnesses were called in. The examination showed the most astonishing correctness of Tzifra's former evidence; every point of which was confirmed by the statements of Jantshi, the Jewish glazier. When the witnesses were sent out of court, Zatonyi offered his snuff-box to the court, saying:—

"Duo testes omni exceptione majores. Two honest witnesses——; why, gentlemen, there can be no doubt——"

"Indeed!" sighed Kishlaki, "and they swore to their depositions. When that Jew cursed himself as he did, I could not help shuddering. They cannot possibly tell us an untruth!"

The justice spat on the floor with joy, protesting that he had never met with better witnesses.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Völgyeshy; "I, for my part, cannot believe a word of the evidence. These witnesses tell us much the same story, but then it is too much the same story; in short, my opinion is, that it is a got-up story."

"This is too bad! indeed it is!" said Zatonyi, "to doubt the truth of the evidence because the witnesses agree in their statement of the facts. I never heard of such a thing!"

"Nor I!" cried Shoskuty. "To think that the depositions of the two witnesses should be exactly alike, even in the smallest particular, and to hear this gentleman speak of got-up stories and the like,—really it is too bad. Denique, he is an advocate."

"And proud of his profession!" interposed Völgyeshy. "But still, it is my duty to inform the court that the extraordinary harmony in the depositions of the two witnesses has convinced me of——"

"If you think so," said Kishlaki, "I think we had better——"

"He does not think so," said Mr. Catspaw, with a forced smile. "It's our nature, sir; we cannot help it. We are fond of desperate cases, we dote on them. The more desperate a case is, the greater the pleasure it gives an advocate to stop or delay the proceedings."

"Mr. Catspaw is mistaken," said Völgyeshy; "the question is far too serious to admit of any joking. But I appeal to you; tell me, is not Tzifra notorious for being a thief and a robber?"

"Certainly not!" cried Mr. Skinner. "Janosh St. Vilmoshy—for the court ought not to deal in slang and in nicknames—Janosh St. Vilmoshy, I say, is an honest man. Ever since he was dismissed from gaol, he has led a better life. He has cut Viola and his gang; and, in short, done his best to blow upon the prisoner."

"Very well!" said Völgyeshy; "for the sake of argument we will grant that this fellow, Tzifra, or Janosh St. Vilmoshy, or whatever his name may be, is an honest man, after having been a robber all his life, and after having passed the greater part of it in the county gaol. Now what does he depose? Firstly, that Viola informed him of his intention to commit the robbery. Now this is incredible, if we are to believe that the witness spurned his former associates, and turned to an honest life. But let us go on. Why, if this Janosh St. Vilmoshy knew of the intended robbery, why did he not step in and prevent it?"

"Yes! yes! this time you are wrong, Skinner," said Kishlaki; "he cannot possibly be an honest man."

Mr. Skinner looked confounded. Völgyeshy went on:—

"In the second instance, the witness declares that on the night of the robbery he walked up to the village of Tissaret, when he was startled by the report of a gun and by Viola's appearance, who ran past him carrying the said gun in his hand. Now why did the witness go to Tissaret? Why was he not at Dustbury, to vote at the election? How does it happen that no one saw him at Tissaret? and why did he come all the way from Dustbury, and at night too, unless he had some business of some kind with somebody in the village?"

"Indeed this looks very suspicious, very suspicious,—on my soul it does!" said Kishlaki; and the assessor, taking a pinch of snuff, declared that their best plan would be to arrest Tzifra too, and to put him in irons.

"Very well. Now all I ask is, where are your credible witnesses? You ought to have two, you know," said Völgyeshy, with a great feeling of superiority.

"Ah!" said the assessor. "A most judicious remark, on my soul! We cannot at present proceed against Tzifra, because we want his evidence."

"But we can never ground a capital sentence on the evidence of such a person!"

"You have no vote, sir!" replied Zatonyi; "and we, who have a vote, do not ask your advice. Had we not better send for the prisoner?" added he, turning to Kishlaki.

Völgyeshy sighed, and the court had just resolved to send for the prisoner, when it was said that two witnesses wished to be examined, and, the president having given his permission, the old Liptaka entered the apartment. The old woman made no mention of the fact of her having seen Viola in Tissaret on the night of the robbery. She protested that the prisoner was under such great obligations to the notary, that he could not possibly have been guilty of so atrocious a crime; and further, that Viola, whose wife was her friend and relative, had many weeks ago informed her of a plot to steal the notary's papers, bidding her at the same time put the notary on his guard.

"And who did Viola say were they that intended to steal the papers?" said Mr. Skinner, with a sneer.

"He did not mention any names, but he spoke of some great people."

"Stuff and nonsense!" cried Mr. Catspaw.

"I swear it; it's the truth!" said the old woman. "I've told it on my oath, and I would not tell a lie,—no, not for all the treasures on earth!"

"Did you give Viola's message to the notary?"

The woman was silent.

"Speak out, my good woman!" said Kishlaki; "you have no cause to fear."

"I know it, sir, and I cannot tell a lie, though I would. I will confess that I did not say any thing to the notary, because I was afraid old Tengelyi would send Susi away, if he were to know that Viola had entered his house."

Messrs. Skinner and Catspaw looked at each other and smiled.

"Is this all you have to say?" asked Mr. Catspaw.

"Yes, sir."

"Very well; you may go."

She was followed by the smith, who deposed that after the report of the gun he hastened to the notary's house, and pursued the murderer, whom he identified as Tzifra. He swore that the person he had pursued was Tzifra, not Viola.

The second witness having been dismissed, and his depositions taken down in writing, the two witnesses were called back for the purpose of signing the depositions. This done, the court sent for Viola. Mr. Skinner meanwhile did his best to discredit the statements of the last two witnesses, whose evidence, he protested, was not worth the paper it was written on.

"That old hag," said he, "is Viola's kinswoman. Her evidence is quite inadmissible; and as for the smith, he is always drunk, especially at night, and nothing is more likely than his mistaking Viola for Tzifra."

"Very true," said Kishlaki.

"Nevertheless the evidence is deserving of some consideration," interposed Völgyeshy, "especially respecting the credit to be placed in Tzifra's, or, if Mr. Skinner likes it better, in Mr. St. Vilmoshy's statements. The very man who commits the crime has often been found to depose against another."

"There is a deal of truth in that," said Kishlaki.

"I say!" cried Zatonyi, "that's a bright idea! We'll hang them both."

"Nonsense, amice!" said Shoskuty; "the other man is not before the court-martial."

"If you arraign him, you may do so," said the assessor. "I know of a precedent. I know of a thief who was just on the point of being turned off, when he saw an accomplice among the crowd. He points him out; the judge sends his men to arrest him. The fellow runs away, they overtake him, and, by G—d! the rascal shows fight. Was it not glorious! They take him back and hang him, on the spur of the moment, by the side of the other fellow; and the judge put into his report that he had hanged two thieves instead of one."

"Devil of a mess he got himself into," said Shoskuty. "Queer notion that!"

"Mess? oh yes, he got into a mess; for now-a-days there's not a knave so bad but he finds somebody who takes his cause up: and, in short, they tell me the judge would have lost his place if he had not resigned, but that was all."

"It was a murder!" cried Völgyeshy—"neither more nor less than a murder!"

"My friend," said the assessor, with a pitying glance at Völgyeshy, "denique, you don't know the world. However, I do not mean to urge my view of the case: all I can say is, it's a pity if we do not hang the two. But here's the prisoner!"

The door opened, and Viola entered, chained, and surrounded by armed men.

CHAP. VI.

The appearance of the prisoner produced a profound sensation in the court. Kishlaki felt deep pity for his misfortunes, though he could not but admit that his fate was in part merited. Völgyeshy, who had heard enough to convince him that there was no hope of the court pronouncing in favor of Viola, shuddered to think that the man whom he saw was doomed to die before sunset. Mr. Catspaw showed great uneasiness when he heard the rattling of the chains; and Shoskuty, who had never seen the robber, was quite as much excited by his curiosity as Mr. Skinner by the feelings of ill-dissembled triumph with which he watched the prisoner's features and carriage. Zatonyi alone preserved his habitual composure.

"At last you've put your head in the snare, you precious villain!" cried Mr. Skinner. "Well, what do you say? Whose turn is it to be hanged? Yours or mine, eh?"

The president of the court looked amazed; but Mr. Skinner laughed and said:

"Perhaps you are not aware of my former acquaintance with Viola? There's a bet between us two, who is to hang first; for that fellow has sworn to hang me, if ever I fall into his hands. Is it not so, Viola?"

"No!" said the prisoner, "it's not so. If I swore I would be revenged, it is well known that I had good cause for it; I have to thank this gentleman for my wretched life and shameful death. But I never vowed to hang you!"

"Never mind!" shouted the justice. "You are humble enough now that you are in the trap; but I am sure you would have kept your word, if you had been able to put your hands upon me. I, too, have sworn an oath, to hang you where I find you—now tell me who has the worst of it?"

"I know that all is over with me," replied Viola, fixing his dark eyes upon the justice; "there is no one to take my part—I know I must die; but it is cruel to insult a dying man."

Völgyeshy, who was scarcely able to repress his feelings, interfered, and protested in Latin that there was a vendetta between the accused and one of the judges, and that another judge must be found. But his protest had no other effect than an admonition, which the president gave Mr. Skinner in very bad Latin, to eschew such light and irrelevant conversation; and the court commenced forthwith to examine the prisoner.

Viola replied calmly and simply to the questions which were put to him; and at last, as though wearied by the length of the examination, he said:

"What is the use of all this questioning? It is a pity the gentlemen should lose their time with me. Mr. Skinner has told me that I am to be hanged; why, then, should I waste my words in an attempt to save my life? I'll confess any thing you like, I don't care what it is; for, believe me, if it had not been for my family, I would never have waited till this day. I would have hanged myself in the forest, to make an end of it, I assure you."

"But how can you possibly confess, when you are ignorant of what you are accused of?" said Völgyeshy. "You stand before righteous judges. Speak out, man, honestly and freely, as you would speak to God; for, believe me, the judges are by no means agreed upon your sentence."

"Thanks to you for your good will," said the culprit; "but I know there is no help. I am a robber; I have been taken in arms; they will hang me. They may do it; but let them make haste; and spare me your questions!"

Mr. Catspaw, who showed some uneasiness, interposed, and said:

"If he refuses to confess, we cannot force him: it is expressly set forth in the articles, that no violence is to be used to obtain a confession. Our best plan is to read the questions to him, and if he refuses to answer to them, why it's his own business, not ours."

"No!" said Völgyeshy; "this man ought to know that his fate does not depend on the decision of the worshipful Mr. Paul Skinner; that the court are prepared to listen to his defence, and that the verdict will be dictated neither by hate nor revenge, but by pure and impartial justice. If the prisoner knows all this, which it appears he does not, he may possibly be induced to reply to the charges."

He turned to Viola, and continued:

"Speak out, my man. Your life is in the hands of these gentlemen, who have to answer for it to God, your judge and theirs. Pray consider that unless you speak, there is no hope for you. Think of your family; and, tell us plainly, is there any thing you have to say for yourself?"

Kishlaki was deeply moved; Mr. Catspaw cast an angry look at the speaker; and Zatonyi yawned.

"I will not speak in my own defence!" said the prisoner.

"Pray consider," urged the young lawyer; "the court will listen to any thing you may say. These gentlemen have a painful duty to fulfil; but they are far from wishing to take your life. If you can give us any excuses, do so, by all means."

"It is provided, in Chapter 6. of the Articles, that the prisoner shall not be wheedled into a confession," said Zatonyi, with an expression of profound wisdom.

"Gentlemen," said Viola, at length, "may God bless you for your kindness, and for your wishing to help me! but, you see, it's all in vain. There are, indeed, many things I might say in defence; and when I go to my God, who knows all and every thing, I am sure He'll judge me leniently; but there is no salvation for me in this world. You see, your worships, there is no use of my telling you that, once upon a time, I was an honest man, as every man in the village of Tissaret can prove. What is the use of my saying that I became a robber not from my own free will, but because I was forced to it; that I never harmed any poor man; that I never took more from the gentry, in the way of robbing, than what was necessary to keep life in my body; and that I never killed any one, unless it was in self-defence? Am I the less punishable for saying all this? No. Whatever my comrades may have done is scored down to my account. I am a robber, and a dead man."

"All this may serve to modify the sentence. But what do you mean by saying that you were forced to be a robber?"

"Ask his worship, the justice of the district," said the prisoner, looking at Mr. Skinner: "he knows what made me a robber." And he proceeded to tell the tale of his first crime.

"It's true; it's as true as Gospel," sighed Kishlaki. "I came to Tissaret on the day after the thing had happened, when the sheriff told me all about it."

"Nihil ad rem!" said Zatonyi.

"But what does it avail me?" continued the prisoner, whose pale face became flushed as he spoke: "what can it avail me to tell you all the revolting cruelties which were practised against me, and which to think of gives me pain? Am I the less a robber? Will these things cause you to spare me? No; I ought to have suffered the stripes, and kissed the hands of my tyrant; or I ought to have left my wife in her darkest hour, because nothing would serve my lady but that I should drive her to Dustbury. How, then, could I, a good-for-nothing peasant[26], dare to love my wife! How could I dare to resist when the justice told them to tie me to the whipping-post! But I dared to do it. I was fool enough to fancy that I, though a peasant, had a right to remain with my wife; I could not understand that a poor man is a dog, which any body may beat and kick. Here I am, and you may hang me."

"I'll tell you what, you'll swing fast enough, my fine fellow!" said Zatonyi, whose cynicism was not proof against the prisoner's last words. "What, man! hanging's too good for you; that's all I have to say!"

"You see, sir," said Viola, appealing to Völgyeshy, "you see, I told you there is nothing that can excuse me in the eyes of mankind. But there's a request I have to address to the court."

Mr. Catspaw trembled, as the prisoner went on.

"When I left the burning hut in which Ratz Andor shot himself, I held some papers in my hands, which were stolen from the house of the notary of Tissaret."

"So you confess to the robbery?" cried Zatonyi.

"No, sir; I do not. God knows, I am guiltless of that robbery," cried Viola, raising his hands to heaven: "but that's no matter. All I say is, that I had the papers, and that I took them away with me; and if you mean to prove by that that I committed the robbery, you may. I do not care: all I say is, that I took the papers with me."

"It's a lie!" murmured Mr. Skinner.

"No; it's not a lie: it's the truth, and nothing but the truth! When I left the hut I was blind and unarmed: I held the papers in my hands, and I felt some one snatch them away from me—I can take my oath on it!—and my senses left me; when I recovered I was bound, and in the hands of the Pandurs and peasants. They dragged me to St. Vilmosh. I asked for the papers, for they belong to Mr. Tengelyi; and it was for their sake I surrendered, because I did not wish them to be burnt; for they are the notary's important papers. But I understand that, when I left the hut, there was no one by except the justice and Mr. Catspaw; and the justice says that I had no papers. I most humbly beseech the court to order the justice to give those papers to the rightful owner."

"May the devil take me by ounces if I've seen the least rag of paper!" cried Mr. Skinner.

"Sir," said Viola, "I am in your power: you may do with me as you please; you may hang me if you like; but, for God's sake! do not deny me the papers. I am under great obligations to Mr. Tengelyi. He relieved my family in the time of their distress; and I wish to show my gratitude by restoring those papers to him. I have come to suffer a disgraceful death——"

"You impertinent dog!" cried Mr. Skinner; "how dare you insinuate? how dare you say? how dare you—— I am insulted; I insist on the court giving me satisfaction."

"I am in the hands of the court," said the prisoner. "Beat me, kick me, torture me; but give me the papers!"

"I am sure it's a plot," whispered Mr. Catspaw to the assessor. "Tengelyi declares that his diplomas are gone. Who knows but he may be a patron of this fellow?"

"Nothing is more likely," replied the assessor.

"What, fellow! what, dog! do you mean to say that I stole the papers?"

"All I say is, that I had the papers in my hands, and that some person took them away. I wish the court would please to examine the Pandurs, who will tell you that nobody was near me but the justice and Mr. Catspaw."

"This is indeed strange," murmured Mr. Kishlaki. Mr. Skinner pushed his chair back, and cried,—

"The court cannot possibly suffer one of its members to be accused of theft!"

"Yes, too much is too much," said Zatonyi, with a burst of generous indignation: "if you do not revoke your words, and if you do not ask their worships' pardon, we will send you to the yard and have you whipped!"

Viola answered quietly, that he was in their worships' power, but that he would repeat what he had said to the last moment of his life; and Zatonyi was just about to send the prisoner away to be whipped, when Völgyeshy reminded him in Latin that the Sixth Chapter of the Articles made not only prohibition of what the assessor had been pleased to term "wheedling," but also of threats and ill-treatment.

Baron Shoskuty remarked, that the young lawyer's explanation of the articles was sheer nonsense, for the prisoner would not be under restraint, if Mr. Völgyeshy's commentaries were accepted as law. He might call the worshipful magistrates asses; nay, he might even go to the length of beating them, without suffering any other punishment than being hanged. This able rejoinder induced the judges to re-consider Mr. Zatonyi's proposition to inflict corporal punishment on the prisoner, and nobody can say what would have come of it, but for the firmness of Völgyeshy, who protested that he would inform the lord-lieutenant and the government of any act of violence to which they might subject the culprit. This threat had its effect. Baron Shoskuty, indeed, was heard to murmur against the impertinence of young men; while Mr. Zatonyi made some edifying reflections about sneaking informers: but this was all. No further mention was made of the whipping.

While the above conversation was being carried on in a tongue of which he could but catch the sounds, and not the meaning, Viola stood quietly by, although a lively interest in the words and motions of the speakers was expressed in his face. Messrs. Catspaw and Skinner conversed in a whisper. At length the attorney turned round and addressed the court:—

"As the prisoner has thought proper to accuse me," said he, "it is but right that I should be allowed to ask him a few questions. You said I was near you when you left the hut, did you not? Now tell me, did you see me at the time?"

"No, I did not; I was blind with the smoke and fire in the hut: but the peasants told me that the two gentlemen were near me, and I felt somebody snatch the papers from my hand."

"Do you mean to say that the smoke in the hut was very dense?"

"I could not see through it; at times the flames were so fierce that they nearly blinded me."

"But how did you manage to save the papers?"

"They lay by my side on my bunda. I seized them, and took them out. They were wrapped in a blue handkerchief."

"He speaks the truth," said Mr. Catspaw, smiling; "or, rather, he tells us what he believes to be the truth. He held something in his hand, when he rushed from the hut more like a beast than like a human creature, I assure you, my honourable friends. I was not at all sure whether it was not a weapon of defence; I snatched it away, and on examination I identified it as a most harmless handkerchief, which certainly was wrapped round some soft substance. But," continued he, addressing the prisoner, "if you fancy you saved the papers, my poor fellow, you are much mistaken, indeed you are! My dear Mr. Skinner, pray fetch the parcel which we took from Viola at the time of his capture."

Mr. Skinner rose and left the room.

"The papers were in the handkerchief, I'll swear!" said Viola; but his astonishment and rage were unbounded when the judge returned with the parcel, which, on examination, was found to contain a pair of cotton drawers. He knew it was the handkerchief, the same in which he had wrapped the papers, and yet they were not there! How could he prove that they had been stolen?

"I trust my honourable friends are convinced," said Mr. Catspaw, "that the wretched man has no intention of imposing upon the court. I believe, indeed nothing can be more probable than that he was possessed of Tengelyi's documents; and it is likewise very probable that he intended to save those papers; but, according to his own statement, he was half blind with the fire and smoke, and instead of the papers he took another parcel—some other booty perhaps. Nothing can be more natural——"

"Yes, indeed!" interposed Baron Shoskuty. "Nemo omnibus!—you know! Awkward mistakes will happen. Perhaps you will be pleased to remember the fire in the house of the receiver of revenues in the —— county. The poor man was so bewildered with fear, that all he managed to get out of the house was a pair of old boots. The whole of the government money was burnt. The visiting justices found the money-box empty—empty, I say! All the bank notes were burnt, and nothing was left but a small heap of ashes."

"Gentlemen!—--" said Viola at length; but Mr. Catspaw interrupted him.

"I implore my honourable friends not to resent any thing this wretched creature may say! I am sure he speaks from his conscience; nor is he deserving of chastisement. He is a prey to what we lawyers term 'Ignorantia invincibilis!'"

"Of course! of course!" said Baron Shoskuty. "It's a legal remedy, you know."

"Gentlemen!" said the prisoner, "I am a poor condemned criminal; but the judge and Mr. Catspaw are mighty men. And I am doomed to appear this day before God's judgment-seat! What motive should I have for not telling you the truth? May I be damned now and for ever,—yes, and may God punish my children to the tenth generation,—if the papers were not in this very cloth!"

"I told you so!" said Mr. Catspaw, still smiling. "I knew it. This man is doting,—'borné,' to use a French term. He'd say the same if we were to put him on the rack!"

"It is all very natural," said he to the prisoner. "You've made a mistake, that's all. Pray be reasonable, and consider, if you had brought Mr. Tengelyi's papers from the hut, what reason could I, or Mr. Skinner, have for refusing to produce them?"

"Of course!" said Baron Shoskuty. "What reason could these gentlemen have? How is it possible to suppose such a thing?"

Viola was silent. He stood lost in deep and gloomy thoughts. At last he raised his head, and asked that the attendants might be sent away, adding, "I am in chains, and there are no less than six of you. You are safe, I assure you."

The room was cleared. Viola looked at Mr. Catspaw, and said:—

"What I have to tell you, will astonish you all, except Mr. Catspaw. I never wished to mention it, and I would not now allow the servants to hear it, for my wife and children live at Tissaret, and the Retys may perhaps be induced to pity the poor orphans. But if it is asked what reason the attorney can have for not producing the notary's papers, I will simply say that Mr. Catspaw is most likely to know his own mind and his own reasons, and good reasons they must be, to induce him to bribe somebody to steal the papers,—for, to tell you the truth, it was he who planned the robbery."

The attorney trembled.

"Really, this man is malicious!" cried he. "I am curious to know what can induce him to accuse an honest man of such a thing?"

"Don't listen to his nonsense!" said Baron Shoskuty.

But Mr. Völgyeshy insisted on the prisoner's being heard, and Viola told them the history of the robbery, from the evening on which he listened to the attorney's conversation with Lady Rety, to the night in which he seized the Jew in Tengelyi's house, knocked him down, and fled with the papers. The only circumstances which he did not mention were, the fact of his having been hid in the notary's house when Messrs. Catspaw and Skinner pursued him in Tissaret, and his conversations with the Liptaka and Peti. Mr. Catspaw listened with a smile of mingled fear and contempt; and when Viola ceased speaking, he asked for permission to put a few questions to the prisoner.

"Not, indeed," said he, "for the purpose of defending myself or Lady Rety against so ridiculous an accusation, but merely to convince this fellow of the holes, nay, of the large gaps, in his abominable tissue of falsehoods." And turning to Viola, he asked:—

"Did you inform anybody of the conversation which you pretend to have overheard between me and Lady Rety?"

"No, I did not."

"Pray consider my question. Is there any one to whom you said that some one wished to steal the notary's papers? We ought to know your associates. Now, did you not speak to Peti the gipsy, or to that old hag, the Liptaka?"

Viola persisted in denying the fact. He was too well aware of the disastrous consequences this avowal would have for his friends.

Mr. Catspaw went on.

"Where did you hide at the time we pursued you in Tissaret?"

Viola replied that he was not in Tissaret.

"Do you mean to say you were not in the village?"

"No!"

The attorney sent for the old Liptaka, to whom he read her depositions, from which it appeared that the prisoner attempted to inform Tengelyi of the intended robbery.

"What do you say to this evidence?" added he.

"That it is true, every word of it. I'll swear to the truth of my words!" said she.

"Viola has confessed," said Mr. Catspaw, "that he told you of the matter, when hiding in the notary's house, while we pursued him through Tissaret. Is there any truth in this statement?"

The Liptaka, feeling convinced that Viola must have confessed as much, said it was quite true, but that Tengelyi was ignorant of the prisoner's presence. The old woman was sent away, and Mr. Catspaw, turning to the court, asked triumphantly:—

"Did you ever hear of such impertinence? The prisoner protests that he did not inform anybody of the alleged intended robbery; and the old woman swears that Viola did inform her, for the purpose of cautioning the notary. Then, again, the old woman did not say any thing to the notary, without having any ostensible reason for not doing what she alleges she promised to do. The prisoner will have it that he was not in Tissaret at the time we pursued him; and the witness—why, gentlemen, the witness deposes that the subject in question was mentioned to her at that very time. I say, you great fool! if you had time for another batch of lies, I would advise you to make out a better story. But let us go on. Who told you that the Jew and Tzifra intended to rob the notary?"

"I cannot answer that question," replied Viola.

"Indeed? What a pity! I'd like to know the gentleman who gives you such correct information; unless, indeed, you keep a 'familiaris,'—a devil, I mean."

"The only thing I told you was, that I knew of the robbery."

"But how did you know of it?"

"The Jew and Tzifra talked about it in the pot-house near Dustbury."

"Were you present? Did you hear them?"

"No! I had it from a friend."

"I'm sure it was your 'familiaris,'—your devil, you artful dodger!" said Mr. Catspaw, smiling; "but since you knew that the robbery was to take place, why did you not inform the justice of it?"

"I was outlawed; a prize was offered for my head."

"Indeed, so it was; but your friend, why did not he inform the proper authorities? Was he also wanted? and if so, why did he not inform Tengelyi, or Mr. Vandory, who I understand has likewise lost his papers?"

"I cannot tell you. Perhaps he did not find the notary. At all events, he knew that I would prevent the robbery, so he told me of it."

"A very extraordinary thing, this!" said Mr. Catspaw; "for a man to apply to a robber with a view to prevent a robbery! And you wanted to prevent the robbery, did you not? Now tell me, did you set about it by yourself? And what became of your comrade,—I mean the man who told you about it? Did he, too, go to Tissaret?"

"There was no occasion for it."

"Still it is very extraordinary that you should not have hunted in couples, knowing as you did that there were two men to commit the robbery. What a capital thing for you if you could summon your comrades to explain it all! For if some went to Tissaret to prevent the robbery, there can be no harm in our knowing who your comrade is. He ought to be rewarded for his zeal."

"I had no comrade. I was alone!" said Viola.

"Very well, you were alone; let it be so. Whom did you see in the notary's house?"

"No one but the Jew; he who is now waiting in the hall."

"Did you see Tzifra?"

"No. The Jew alone was in the house."

"But the Jew swears that it was you who committed the robbery!"

"I don't care. I've said what I've said."

"Is there any thing else you have to say?"

"No."

"Very well. I've done with you," said the attorney, as he rang for the servants.

"Take him away," said he, as the haiduks made their appearance. Viola turned round and left the room.

CHAP. VII.

The contradictory statements of Viola and the Liptaka, and the character of improbability which seemed to swim on the very surface of the charge against Mr. Catspaw and Lady Rety, convinced the court that the whole of Viola's confession was a stupid and malicious attempt to save his life by means of another crime,—we quote Mr. Skinner's elegant address to his friends. Völgyeshy himself could not pretend to give a moment's belief to so utterly ridiculous a story.

"The business is as clear as daylight," said the assessor, at the close of Mr. Skinner's speech. "The culprit makes no denial. All we have to do is to make him sign his depositions, to confront him with the witnesses, and to pronounce the sentence. It's just two o'clock. The prisoner ought to have three hours to say his prayers in, and the sun sets before five. My opinion is that we ought to look sharp!"

"I do not see why," said Kishlaki, whose anxiety increased as the proceedings drew to a close.

"Why, indeed? Did I not tell you that I must go home to-night? There are the potatoes, and the ploughmen, and what not!"

"We ought, indeed, to make haste," cried Baron Shoskuty, who, it appeared, cared more for his dinner than for the sentence. "We cannot allow our beautiful hostess to wait dinner for us."

"You cannot finish the proceedings to-day!" interposed Völgyeshy. "The prisoner's depositions are of great length. I want at least two hours to transcribe them from my notes."

"Nothing of the kind!" cried Mr. Skinner. "After Viola's capture I examined him in the presence of Mr. Kenihazy. He has not since thought proper to alter or revoke any thing in his former depositions; and though I am sure you would do the thing more elegantly and neatly, yet I flatter myself that our work will do for the present."

To this Völgyeshy replied, that though the prisoner had not indeed altered or protested against his first depositions, still that he had said many things which were not mentioned in the minutes of the first examination, and that these additional details ought also to be carefully added to the body of the evidence.

"What the deuce do you mean?" said Shoskuty, with a degree of astonishment which did honour to his sense of justice—"can you think of mentioning that Mr. Catspaw and the sheriff's lady intended to rob the notary of his papers?"

"Of course. Any thing the prisoner may have said in court."

"This is truly monstrous!" cried Mr. Skinner.

"You know your duty, but allow me to inform you that I know mine. It is yours to judge: it is mine to record the proceedings."

"Sed rogo, domine spectabilis!" cried Zatonyi, "is your head turned? What on earth are you thinking of?"

"Of my duty," replied Völgyeshy; "it is my duty, I take it, to make a clear and perfect statement of the case."

"But in every case there is a deal of irrelevant matter. Suppose the prisoner were to preach us a sermon, or he were to give us the prescription of a plaster for corns and bunions, would you state that kind of thing?"

"My opinion of the prisoner's statements is, that they are not irrelevant."

"But, my dear friend," said the Baron, with the greatest possible politeness, "only please to consider that our friend Zatonyi must go home to-night on account of his potatoes, which he will be prevented from doing if you persist in your intention of taking down all the nonsense which the culprit told us. And pray consider, dear sir, that Lady Kishlaki's dinner will be spoilt! It's but common politeness to make an end of it, and have done."

"The life of a fellow creature is at least quite as much worth as Mr. Zatonyi's potatoes; and, as for common politeness, I, for one, care more for common fairness."

"I should think so!" muttered Zatonyi.

"But, sir, you are uncommonly stiff-necked!" sighed the Baron.

"Why," said Mr. Kishlaki, nervously, "it strikes me that we had better adjourn till to-morrow morning. By that time, I trust, Mr. Völgyeshy will have completed his labours, and Mr. Zatonyi——"

"No! it's utterly impossible! Nobody can be more zealous than I am. I am always at sessions, always! but to neglect my household duties for a mere whim—an idle fancy——"

"God forbid that you should!" said Kishlaki, kindly. "But since Mr. Völgyeshy tells us that he feels in conscience bound to take down the whole of the prisoner's depositions, and since he cannot possibly do it in half an hour——"

"Ej Bliktri!" said Zatonyi, angrily; "I've attended a score of courts-martial, and in cases too which it would take a common court many months to come to the bottom of, and for all that we never wanted more than a day for the trial and hanging; and am I to be stopped by this case? I never heard of such pretensions as Mr. Völgyeshy's! It is said in the articles that the prisoner is to sign his depositions; that his name, age, crime, and the manner of his capture are to be mentioned in the said depositions; but it is nowhere said that they must contain any nonsense which the prisoner may be pleased to talk; and I ask you, Mr. Völgyeshy, sir! why on earth do you persist in your extraordinary, and, let me say, ridiculous conduct?"

"Because I think it requisite for the credibility of the proceedings; and besides, you are aware that a suit on the question of noble descent is being preferred against the notary of Tissaret. This suit is materially affected by Viola's confession, which proves that certain papers were feloniously taken from the notary's house."

"It strikes me," exclaimed Mr. Catspaw, "that there are persons who insist on my own name, and especially that of my Lady Rety, being mentioned in the minutes, and in a highly insulting and offensive manner too. Well, be it so! Lady Rety will at least have one advantage, that of knowing her friends; for everybody must see that to mention this affair is perfectly gratuitous."

"God forbid!" said Baron Shoskuty, "that any thing should be recorded in the minutes which might give her ladyship only a moment's uneasiness; indeed——"

"Tot capita, tot sensus," proceeded the attorney; "but my honourable friends must admit that my Lady Rety and your humble servant cannot feel pleased with Viola's calumnious statements being sent to his Excellency and the government, particularly since the robber's death deprives us of all means of proving the falsehood of his statements. And I put it to you whether it is becoming and decent in a man of Mr. Völgyeshy's character and position to make the duties of his office serve him as a means for his revenge? for we all know that he is among the most zealous of Mr. Rety's opponents."

"It's really infamous, that it is!" cried Mr. Skinner.

"I won't suffer it!" growled the assessor.

Shoskuty shook his head, and bewailed the factious spirit of the county, which caused certain individuals to take advantage of judicial proceedings, for the purpose of annoying their political adversaries.

Mr. Kishlaki, who had his reasons for avoiding any thing in the shape of a quarrel with the Rety family, endeavoured to mediate between the hostile parties. "I am sure," said he, "Mr. Völgyeshy has no idea of insulting our respected sheriff, though he forgot that his intention must necessarily grieve the illustrious family of the Retys. If the papers remained in the archives of the county, there could be no harm in your recording the whole of the evidence; but as this is not the case, I am sure, sir, you cannot wish to annoy one of the greatest families of the county; for I take it you must be aware of the truth of Mr. Catspaw's argument, that the death of the prisoner deprives the very respectable persons whom he has slandered of the means of putting him to shame."

"What prevents Mr. Catspaw from preserving the means of defence?" said Völgyeshy, with a flush of generous excitement in his pale cheeks.

The worshipful gentlemen looked amazed, but the lawyer proceeded:

"A single dissentient vote is enough to save the prisoner's life. If Mr. Catspaw thinks that Viola's confession is likely to injure him or Lady Rety, let him give that vote, and thus preserve the possibility of disproving Viola's statements."

"Oh, yes!" cried Mr. Kishlaki, eager to obtain the two objects next to his heart, namely, the liberation of the prisoner and the conciliation of the Rety family. "Yes, sir; to show my high respect for the sheriff, I am ready to give that vote!"

"Per amorem! Domine spectabilis!" shrieked Zatonyi; "do you mean to say that the fellow is not to be hanged?"

"Shocking! shocking!" sighed Baron Shoskuty, with an appealing look to heaven; "the robber is in our hands; our honourable friend Mr. Skinner has covered himself with glory, and risked his life, in capturing him; he indicts him before a court-martial, and we—we discharge the fellow! Nobody ever heard of such a thing!"

"I, for one," cried Mr. Skinner, "won't allow you to make a fool of me! What the devil! is a man to risk his life for nothing? You won't catch me again at this kind of thing, I assure you!"

"Not hang the rascal?" roared Zatonyi. "I've attended scores of courts-martial, but I never heard of any thing like it. It's prostituting justice! it's protecting crime! it's——"

"Of course; so it is," said Baron Shoskuty; "it's putting a premium on robbery! it's a deleterious example!"

"Public safety will go to the dogs!" howled Mr. Skinner; and they all spoke at once: "Scandalous!—infamous!—new doctrines!—fautores criminum!—disgrace!" such were the words which predominated in this Babel of angry voices, until Mr. Völgyeshy at length silenced them. He protested what he wanted was not the liberation of the prisoner, but the transmission of the prosecution to the ordinary court.

"Of course!" sneered Mr. Zatonyi; "are we not aware of the practice of the court? I know of three cases,—I was not present, for if I had been I would not have allowed it; but I know of three cases in which the prisoners were sent to the courts; and what was the consequence? Why, one of them was sentenced to three months', and the second to a year's imprisonment; as for the third, they let him off altogether, though I'd bet you any thing the fellow was a robber. Don't you think, sir, we are so green as all that! The county has the right of court-martial for the purpose of using it; and use it we will!"

"I do not think that the courts-martial were granted under the express condition that a few people should be hanged every year," said Völgyeshy.

"It appears," said Mr. Catspaw, "that the liberation of the prisoner, or, at least, his prosecution in a common court, has been proposed for the purpose of favouring the Lady Rety and me. But I feel myself authorised to protest, in Lady Rety's name, that neither she nor I can consent to the court allowing themselves to be influenced by any private feelings in our favour, however flattering those feelings may be to her ladyship."

"Mr. Catspaw, sir, you are a gentleman!" said Baron Shoskuty; and the question was at once put, whether the prisoner's first depositions should be authenticated, or whether it was advisable to make out a new relation of the facts, and to adjourn the sentence to the following day. Kishlaki advocated the second alternative; but he was overruled by the court, and nothing was left to Völgyeshy but to declare that he would not and could not obey the instructions of the court. Kishlaki was greatly shocked by this declaration; Zatonyi swore; the Baron rose, and shaking his most honourable friend's hand, he entreated him to pardon them if their resolution was offensive to him.

"Consider the homo sum, amice! consider the nihil humanum!—we all pay unbounded respect to your principles and talents, but to the majority you ought to submit. Consider that every body does so, and I am sure you will see——"

But Völgyeshy protested that he could not, in the present case, join the decision of the majority, though he acknowledged he had no legal remedy against them. That was the reason why he wished to withdraw. His firmness, or (as Shoskuty called it) obstinacy, threw the court into hopeless confusion, and there is no saying what they would not have done, if Mr. Catspaw had not volunteered to discharge the functions of a notary.

"Sir, your offer is accepted, gratefully accepted, I say," cried Zatonyi. "Mr. Völgyeshy, who has just entered the service, will in time find out that a man is none the worse for doing his duty according to the decision of a majority. Leave him alone with his principles! he'll soon get tired of them, I'll warrant you!"

"Mr. Völgyeshy," said the attorney, with a sneer, "has brought the matter to this point for the purpose of saving the prisoner's life,—a noble and generous feeling, gentlemen, especially in this time of general philanthropy,—quite a romantic feeling, I assure you, gentlemen. But we, who are older, and, let me say so, tougher, cannot imitate his example, though I trust the noble young man gives me credit for appreciating his motives. As I told you, I am ready to officiate in his place; but I think Mr. Völgyeshy, seeing that his refusal to act has no effect upon us, will not persist in his refusal. Am I right, my generous young friend?"

But the generous young friend rose, and pushing his batch of papers to Mr. Catspaw, he declared that nothing could induce him to take a part in the proceedings, which he went to the length of designating as an act of judicial tyranny.

This bold declaration called forth a fresh torrent of abuse.

"Disgraceful!" cried Mr. Skinner.

"It's infamous!" said Zatonyi.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, sir!" snarled Mr. Catspaw.

"Gentlemen," said Völgyeshy, when their frantic rage had in a manner subsided, "I meant no offence to any of you. Allow me to explain what I said."

"Explain? What the devil do you mean to explain, sir?" cried Zatonyi. "Do you mean to say, sir, that we are murderers? Are you aware that you have no vote? To insult the judges is an infamous act; d—n you, sir, you're infamous, sir!"

"Yes!" said the Baron; "let us pass a resolution to that effect."

"Do you mean to do it by court-martial?" asked Völgyeshy, with a scornful smile.

"Yes, sir! In any way, sir! I'm sure I don't care. Whoever insults the judges or the court is infamous! That's written law, sir! it's in the corpus juris. And you'll find it law, sir, and to your cost, sir!"

"It is ad horribilationem!" groaned Zatonyi.

"You may, if you please, pass a resolution of infamy against me," said Völgyeshy; "but permit me, not indeed for the sake of those who care for nothing except the execution of the prisoner, but out of love and respect for your president——"

"Captatio benevolentiæ!" cried Zatonyi. "Our respected president wants no flatteries from the like of you!"

"——direct the attention of the court——"

"The attention of the court wants no direction whatever," said the Baron.

"——to the heavy responsibility which rests with every one of you, if the present proceedings are brought to a fatal end."

"What, the devil! are the judges to be made responsible? I never in all my life——"

"Halljuk! halljuk!" said Kishlaki, who listened with great eagerness.

Völgyeshy took the articles, and pointed out to the court that their safety consisted in the strict legality of their proceedings, and that the present case did not come within their jurisdiction.

"Crassa ignorantia!" said Zatonyi, contemptuously, "as is but too common among the young gentlemen of the present day. Viola's case is a court-martial case with a vengeance!"

"But the details——"

"Crassa ignorantia!" cried the assessor, raising his voice. "Did he not resist the capture? Did he steal Tengelyi's papers because they were eatables? which, I admit, would constitute an extenuating circumstance; or is he under age, or a lunatic? Or is the gang to which he belongs indicted before any court at law?"

Völgyeshy remarked, that the case was so intricate that it would take the court at least three days to sift it.

"Three days, indeed! I'd do away with twenty of these rascals in much less time than that!"

"It seems you have forgotten what the prisoner said concerning certain accusations——"

"Which have nothing whatever to do with the question at issue," cried Baron Shoskuty; "there's no mention of them in the minutes. I mean to forget them."

"Sir!"

"Baron Shoskuty is right," said the assessor; "the prisoner's nonsensical talk has nothing in common with the species facti—it's no use mentioning it."

"But what is to become of the completeness of the record?" cried Völgyeshy, angrily.

"It's a stupid formality. See chapter 6. paragraph 5. of the articles, where it is provided that the court is at liberty to dispense with the forms of the courts at law."

"Yes, we can do as we please, and in the very teeth of all manners of forms, too," said the Baron.

"Of course you can hang the prisoner!" shouted Völgyeshy; "but I protest that what you do is an act of violence, not of justice!"

"Hold your tongue, sir!—--"

"The members of this court have no right to sit in it!—I appeal to the articles!"

"Outrageous!" cried Zatonyi, rising from his chair; "what! are we not assessors?—have we not taken our oaths?—are we not——?"

"Are we not lawyers of unblemished character?—men of firmness and impartiality?" continued the Baron.

"Turn him out!" roared Mr. Skinner.

"Actio! Actio!" gasped Baron Shoskuty in his turn.

"I protest you are not impartial!" said Völgyeshy.

"Bliktri!" snarled Zatonyi; "what have the articles to do with impartiality?"

"Very true! but suppose impartiality were required," said Shoskuty, violently, "suppose it were required, what then? Are we not strictly impartial? Which of us has said a single word in favour of the prisoner, unless it be you? but, goodness be thanked! you've no vote, sir!"

"I am curious to know how you would manage to prove our want of impartiality?" said Mr. Catspaw.

"I'll satisfy your curiosity, sir," said the young lawyer. "As for you, you are accused, and it is evidently your interest to do away with the accusation and the accuser. Of Mr. Skinner's want of impartiality there can be no question. What shall we say of a judge who degrades his office to the level of the hangman?"

"Meanness! Impertinence! Turn him out! Actio!" screamed the judges.

"No! You are not impartial! You are thirsting for the prisoner's blood! You want his life to shield your own misdeeds! There is vendetta between you and the prisoner! But I will not suffer it! I will publish the proceedings! I will complain to the lord-lieutenant! I will——"

"Base informer! are you aware of the laws of 1805? Turn him out!" roared the court; and Völgyeshy, finding that nothing could persuade them, turned to leave the room, when Mr. Skinner rose and seized him by the arm.

"Be off, you miscreant!" roared the valorous judge.

Völgyeshy pushed him back, and taking his hat, he bowed to the president, and withdrew.

The uproar in the justice-room attracted the attention of the people outside in no slight degree. The conversation of the haiduks, Pandurs, witnesses, and servants gradually ceased, and every one listened to the noise of angry voices in the justice-room. The Liptaka sat close by the door listening to the dispute, and from time to time she would turn to the smith and inform him that Viola's case was very bad; "for," said she, "if the gentlemen get out of temper with each other, they always manage to make a poor body suffer for it:" a remark to which the smith did not fail to respond with deep sighs.

Viola alone paid no attention to the quarrels of his judges. Surrounded by a troop of armed men, he leaned against one of the wooden pillars of the hall, looking towards the gate where his wife and children stood. All the robber's thoughts were of them. When the door opened, and Völgyeshy entered the hall, Viola turned round, for he thought they had sent for him to read his sentence. He longed for it; for the Pandurs had told him that, after hearing it, he would be allowed to speak to his wife. Calling to Völgyeshy, as the latter approached, he said: "Is it over?"

"Not quite," answered the lawyer.

"But why do you leave them?"

"I have no vote. I cannot be of any use to you."

"I thought so," said Viola, with a bitter smile. "God bless you for having given yourself all this trouble for the sake of a poor man; but, if you will show me pity, tell them to allow my wife to come to me. There she stands, by the gate; there she stands, with her children! They've pushed her back: they will not let her speak to me! All I want is to have her with me. You see I am chained and closely watched, and in a few hours I shall be a dead man. What harm can there be in lessening the anguish of my poor, wretched wife!"

Völgyeshy said nothing; but he walked precipitately up to the place where Susi stood, took her by the hand, and led her to Viola's arms. The wretched people did not speak: they wept, and trembled; the little boy took and kissed his father's hand, sore as it was with the weight of the chain: and the large tear-drops rolled over the robber's pale face.

The burst of generous indignation in which the members of the court had for a time indulged was, meanwhile, subsiding. Mr. Catspaw, seated in Völgyeshy's place, arranged that gentleman's papers and notes to his own liking; and though Mr. Skinner still continued to vent his spleen in frequent and indecent exclamations against the young lawyer's impertinence, it was found that none of the other members of the court sympathised with his protracted irascibility. Baron Shoskuty and the assessor Zatonyi talked of their dinner and other important matters. Mr. Kishlaki alone seemed distressed and nervous.

Viola was at length summoned before the court to sign his depositions. When they were read to him, he observed that they contained none of his statements about Tengelyi's papers; but upon Mr. Catspaw informing him that he was merely required to testify to the correctness of those things which were stated, and that the other parts of his confession would be taken down separately, he made no further objections, but signed his name, to the immoderate satisfaction of the cunning attorney.

Nothing was now wanting but the sentence. The assessor yawned fearfully, offered his snuff-box to everybody, and protested that he had never had so troublesome a sitting. Baron Shoskuty consulted his watch (for the twentieth time, at least), and informed the court that it was past three o'clock, and that the want of his dinner had given him a headache: denique, (to use his own words,) "there was no time to be lost." Acting up to this hint, Mr. Catspaw made a short résumé of the facts; and concluded by protesting that there could be no doubt about the sentence of capital punishment. Mr. Skinner said the same. Mr. Zatonyi laughed, and swore that Miss Lydia Languish herself could not find another verdict!—an opinion upon which the Baron commented at great length, for the purpose of finally adopting it. Mr. Kishlaki alone sat silent and anxious, turning to each of the judges with a sigh as each recorded his sentence; until, at length, he pretended to fall into a fit of profound meditation.

"Really," said Baron Shoskuty, at length, producing his watch to add to the strength of his arguments, "I must ask my honourable friend's pardon for disturbing him in his reflections on the enormity of the crime; but really we ought not to abuse Lady Kishlaki's patience."

"You are right," said the president, greatly relieved; "quite right, my dear sir: let us adjourn till to-morrow morning. This confounded execution cannot possibly take place to-day."

"Oh! why should it not?" asked Zatonyi, indignantly. "Did I not tell you that I must go home? My potatoes——"

"We are bound to grant the prisoner at least three hours," said the president; "and it's quite dark at five o'clock. You would not hang him by candlelight, would you?"

"My honourable friend is quite right," cried Shoskuty. "We ought to have a game at tarok after all this trouble. Besides, I owe the gentlemen their revenge for the pagat. But why should we not pass the sentence to-night, and have it executed at an early hour to-morrow morning?"

"Because," said Mr. Kishlaki, nervously,—"because the decision rests with me; and—because—I must own—that I have not yet made up my mind."

"Domine spectabilis!" cried Zatonyi, clasping his hands. "You, at your time of life! You, who have served the county so many years, you have not made up your mind? I've attended a score of courts-martial, and I always made up my mind in less than a second. What would your enemies say, if they knew it?"

Mr. Skinner, too, expressed his scorn of such weakness of mind in the strongest terms; still Kishlaki would not be persuaded either to absolve or to condemn the prisoner. He entreated his friends to wait till the morrow. But his request was obstinately opposed by Mr. Catspaw, who knew the man he had to deal with, and who was aware that Kishlaki would not be able to resist the entreaties of his wife and son, and the reasonings of Völgyeshy, if he was allowed to appear in their presence before he had recorded his decision.

"I am sure," pleaded the attorney, "it cannot matter to us whether you deliver your judgment to-day or to-morrow; but my wish is, that there should be an end to the business. I wish it for the prisoner's sake. After the sentence he will be at liberty to talk to his wife, to prepare for death, and to make any arrangements he has to make. But if it is really inconvenient, of course we cannot pretend that the prisoner's wishes should be consulted in preference to yours."

Zatonyi, seeing the effect which these words had upon Kishlaki, remarked that Viola was indeed a great criminal, whose agony ought in strict justice to be prolonged ad infinitum; but that some consideration was due to humanity, for he could not, he said, believe that any man in his senses could for a moment doubt of the nature of the sentence, which his honourable friend wished to delay. To this Mr. Catspaw replied, that their worthy president could not have any such intention, and that he (Mr. Catspaw) would never have dared to insinuate any such thing; but that no one could be more fully aware than he (Mr. Catspaw) was, of the solemn duty by which every judge was bound to disregard his own feelings and passions; and that he (Mr. Catspaw) was convinced that his worthy friend, Mr. Kishlaki, would eventually prove himself deserving of the confidence of the county. And Baron Shoskuty gave them a homily on the beauty of humane feelings, which, he said, imperatively demanded that Viola should be sentenced off hand. And it was said, that it was necessary to make an example, and that kindness to the wicked is cruelty to the good. And Mr. Skinner told fearful tales of the enormities of which Viola and his comrades had been guilty, and would be guilty, unless a wholesome fear of courts-martial were propagated among the people; till the poor old man, attacked on all sides, and unable to make head against a torrent of arguments, which he had always been taught to consider as irrefutable, was at length reduced to submission to the will of his more crafty colleagues. With a deep sigh, he confirmed their verdict.

"God sees my heart," said he, raising his eyes to heaven. "I know not what I would give to spare the life of this man! but I cannot violate my duty."

Mr. Catspaw commenced at once to draw up the sentence, while his friends strove hard to dispel the gloom which settled on Kishlaki's face; when the door was suddenly thrown open, and Susi, with a child in her arms, rushed into the room, followed by two haiduks, who vainly strove to detain her.

"Pity!" cried the wretched woman, throwing herself at Kishlaki's feet. "Pity, sir! oh sir, don't kill my husband!"

Kishlaki would have raised her, but she resisted.

"No! no!" sobbed she; "let us kneel! let my child kneel! Come Pishta, come, kiss this gentleman's hands! it is he who has to judge of your father's life! Entreat him! pray to him, Pishta!"

"I pray, sir, do not kill my father!" sobbed the little boy.

"Did I ever—what impertinence!" cried Mr. Skinner. "This worshipful court does not kill anybody!"

"No, God forbid!" said the poor woman; "do not mind the child's asking you not to kill his father. He does not know what he says. He is the son of a poor peasant; he has no education. I know I too talk wildly, but——"

"My good woman," said Kishlaki, "my duties as a judge are painful, but imperative and——"

"Oh, I do not ask the court to absolve him from all punishment. No! I do not mean to say that. Punish him severely, cruelly, no matter how, only don't kill him!—Oh! pardon me for saying the word. Oh, pardon me! Send Viola to gaol for many years, for ever, if it must be so; but do spare his life! Perhaps he has told you that he cares not for death—he is fond of talking in this way—but don't believe what he said! When he said it, he had not seen his children; but now he has kissed little Pishta, I am sure he will not say so; and the baby too smiled at him as he stood in his chains. Oh! if you could but see the baby, and if you could hear it calling its father with its small sweet voice, you'd never believe Viola when he says he wishes to die!"

"D—n your squeaking!" growled Mr. Skinner, "and d—n the blockhead that let her come in! Be off, I say! Your husband's a dead man; if he's afraid of death, why so much the better!"

"Did I say he was afraid of death?" sighed poor Susi. "I told you a lie! Viola longs for death! Death is no punishment for him! If you want to punish him, you must lock him up! He's often told me he would rather die than live in a prison!"

Kishlaki looked at her with streaming eyes. Shoskuty produced his watch.

"Oh! sir, I know you will send him to prison! What is death to him? It's but the pain of a moment; but we are the sufferers. I have two children—this boy and the other child, which the Liptaka has in her arms—the Liptaka, I mean the old woman at the door; and what am I to do if their father is hanged?"

Zatonyi remarked, very judiciously, that it made no difference to the children whether their father was hanged or sent to prison for life.

"Oh! but it does, sir. It may make no difference to your worships, but it does to us. I know he will be of good behaviour. I will walk to Vienna, I will crawl on my hands and knees after the king until he pardons my husband; and if he will not pardon him, I shall at least be allowed to see him in prison; I can show him the children, and how they have grown! I can bring him something to eat and to put on—oh! for pity's sake, send him to prison! It's a heaven for me; but death is fearful!"

"Fearful, indeed! It's half-past three!" sighed Shoskuty.

"Now do be quiet," said Zatonyi, taking a pinch of snuff. "Besides, it's too late. We've passed the sentence."

"The sentence! The sentence of death!" shrieked Susi.

"It's at your service," sneered Mr. Skinner, pointing to a paper which was just being folded up by Mr. Catspaw.

"But suppose it is bad—it is faulty," muttered the woman. "Suppose I say it's wrong—for death is not a punishment to Viola—it's I that am punished!"

"It's done, and can't be undone," said Zatonyi; "don't bore us with your useless lamentations."

"It wants but a quarter to four," said the Baron. "I wonder whether this scene is to last any longer?"

"But I pray," said Susi, shuddering; "it's but a sheet of paper. If you take another, and write some other words upon it, you can allow Viola to live."

"Oh indeed! Why should we not? Be off, we've had trouble enough on your account! Mr. Catspaw won't write another sentence to please you."

"Not to please me; but because it's a question of life and death."

"My good woman," sighed Kishlaki, wiping his eyes, "we have no power to alter the sentence!"

"No power? No——"

"It is impossible!" said Zatonyi.

The poor woman shrieked and fell on the floor. She was taken away; and the sentence was read to Viola.

As the judges left the room, Shoskuty said to Zatonyi:—

"God be thanked that it is over!"

"God be thanked, indeed! I've never heard of such a court-martial——"

"Denique, if the president is a donkey," remarked Shoskuty.

"Yes; a man who weeps at the mere squeaking of a woman!" said Mr. Skinner, as he joined the two worthies; "unless we all dun him he won't allow the execution to take place."

"It's four o'clock now, and I'll bet you any thing the dinner is spoilt; and the roast meats used to be excellent!" said the Baron, with a deep sigh.

CHAP. VIII.

On his way from the justice-room to the house, Völgyeshy met Kalman and young Rety's servant, Janosh; the former of whom held an open letter in his hand: and his stamping, his unequal paces, and the sudden manner in which he would turn upon his companion, showed that he was labouring under a strong excitement. At some distance a groom was walking two horses, whose appearance showed that their riders had paid more attention to time than to the health of their beasts.

Völgyeshy was not in a temper to seek the society of others; and observing that young Kishlaki did not see him, he turned and walked to the house. But Kalman, whose attention was directed to him by a few words from the hussar, rushed after him, and cried—

"Is it over?"

The violence with which these words were pronounced, startled Völgyeshy. He stood still and said:

"Yes, it is over! They had settled the matter before they commenced the sitting. But that farce—or sitting, if you like—continues still."

"But what are you doing here? Are you not a member of the court?"

"I have a seat, but no vote; and I left them because——" Völgyeshy paused, and added: "We had better not talk of these things here. Let us go to your room, where I'll tell you all; besides, I have a request to make of you."

"I say, Janosh!" cried Kalman. "Go to my servant and get something to drink. My groom will take care of your horse."

"No, no, young gentleman!" said the old man, shaking his head; "my horse is number one, and I'm number two. Meat after corn, sir, that's the way we did it in our time; and, besides, you see I've brought my master's own horse. He's a jewel, and I wouldn't trust him with that lad for any thing."

"Do as you please, Janosh; but when the horse is provided for, I must see you."

When the two young men had entered the house, Kalman turned to Völgyeshy, and said,—"Now tell me why, in the name of all that is reasonable, did you leave the court?"

"Because I would not be a party to a murder! because I scorned to be a tool in their hands—because I would not lend my hand to their knavish and diabolical designs!"

"My dear friend, you're out of temper! How can you talk of such things when my father is one of the parties concerned? I am sure he would never be guilty of any knavery."

"That was my opinion. Believe me no one can respect your father more than I do. He's a good and blessed man! I have always said so, and I say so now; but your father is weak, and his weakness neutralises the best feelings of his heart. The wickedness and folly of this world are not at the doors of the wicked and foolish alone, but also at the doors of those honest and good men, whose weakness and laziness,—let me say whose gentility,—cause them to suffer what they have the power to prevent. The wicked are powerful, not because of their numbers and strength, but because they are reckless, energetic, and daring; while the good and honest are weak, and though they would scorn to act, they are not ashamed at conniving at any meanness which they may set a-going."

"I agree with you," said Kalman, "and I fear the remark applies in a manner to my father; but, abuse them as you like, only tell me what has happened!"

Völgyeshy gave him a short account of the transaction, and Kalman listened with evident distress.

"Never!" cried he, when Völgyeshy concluded his tale; "impossible! They cannot condemn a fellow-creature in that manner. My father will never consent to it!"

"He will consent—indeed, I am sure he has already given his consent. The question was decided when it was resolved that Viola's confession respecting Tengelyi's papers should not be mentioned in the records."

"Confound it!" cried Kalman "And that letter which they sent me from Tissaret. I must save him in spite of a hundred courts-martial!"

"Did they send you a letter? Did the sheriff perhaps?"

"No; but you know Akosh is wounded—Etelka writes in his name. Read the letter."

Völgyeshy took the paper and read as follows:—

"Tengelyi's papers are of the greatest importance. There is reason to believe that my brother's happiness, that the happiness of all of us, is concerned in your recovering them. Viola did not commit the robbery. Whatever he may have confessed on this subject, it is all true. He has acted far more nobly than any one else can do—it is horrible to think that he is to suffer death for his generous conduct. Certain persons will move heaven and earth to obtain a verdict against him, for his death removes the only witness in the case of the papers. I entreat you to save him! it is the first favour I ever asked of you; and the very generous manner in which you took Tengelyi's part at the election, gives me hope that it will not be the last.

"Etelka."

"You see, I am bound to save him! I'd forfeit my life to save him! I'm bound to do it," cried Kalman.

"There is some signal villany going on," said the lawyer; "this letter shows that my suspicions are but too well founded."

"What in ——'s name are we to do! By Jove I'll go down and tell Catspaw that he is a rascal, and a dirty thief, and——"

"Not so fast!" said Völgyeshy, stopping the impetuous young man in his way to the door. "If you make a scene, you will spoil all. It strikes me that that fellow Catspaw is but the tool of others, a dirty tool, I grant you, but still a tool; and, unless I am very much mistaken, there are some people mixed up in this affair, whom it would not be wise in you, and much less in Akosh and Etelka, to involve in a criminal prosecution."

"Yes; but I say, let me go down! A single vote can save him, and my father——"

At that moment Janosh entered the room, and informed them that the sitting was over, and that Viola was sentenced to death.

"Confound me!" cried Kalman; "confound my being away from home this morning! I was aware that our Gulyash is a friend of Viola's! I believed that he would be able to get the papers; so I talked to him last night, but he told me he had not seen any thing of the robber. I returned last night, and early this morning I left for our Puszta to see our Tshikosh. Nothing was known of Viola's capture when I started. The Puszta is more than eleven miles from here; and when I had rested my horse, and indeed when I was on my way home, confound it! I got this letter."

"Yes, sir!" said Janosh; "I had no idea that your worship had gone to the Puszta. I've been up and down the county in every direction, and all to no purpose, until some one told me you had taken that way."

"I know it's not your fault, Janosh. It's that cursed fate of mine! If I had been at home, no harm would have come to Viola; but what am I to do now that the sentence——"

"After all, what does it signify?" said the hussar, stroking his moustache.

"You know what's in the letter. They ask me to save him; and what can I do now that he's condemned?"

"If your worship will do a kind thing for the love of Miss Etelka—I beg your pardon—for the love of my young master; and if your worship will save Viola——"

"'If!' and 'will!' I'd give my life if I could do it."

"Oh, then we need not care for such a bit of a sentence. Only think, sir, what should we do for ropes if every man were hanged whom they condemn in Hungary?"

"Perhaps you are not aware," said Völgyeshy, "that there's a court-martial in the case. In a common court——"

"Of course, of course!" said Janosh; and, turning to young Kishlaki, he whispered, "Do not let us mention these things before strangers."

"Don't mind Mr. Völgyeshy," said Kalman. "He knows all about it; and he'd help us if he could."

"So I would," said the lawyer.

"That alters the matter entirely. The worshipful gentlemen do not like us to put our fingers into their pie; and when they wish to hang a fellow, they are apt to be unreasonable if he escapes. They are fond of being hard upon the like of me."

"But what is it you mean to do?"

"I myself hardly know. I want to reconnoitre the place; but shoot me if I don't find a means to set him free! They won't hang him to-night; there's plenty of time to think about it. Mr. Kalman is at home here; that's half the battle. Your cellars are full of wine; we've lots of money, keys, ropes, and a horse. Hej!" added he, laughing; "did you ever hear of the adventures of the famous Baron Trenck?"

"Thanks, old Janosh!" cried Kalman, shaking his hand; "do as you please in the house! manage it all your own way, and throw the blame upon me!"

"Very well! very well indeed!" said the hussar, twisting his moustache; "old Janosh isn't half so dull as people fancy, and, terrem tette! an old soldier has had capital schooling in these things. But you must go to dinner, for unless you do, they'll fancy we are mustering our forces, as indeed we are. I'll reconnoitre the place."

"I'm your sworn friend to the end of my life!" said Kalman, as he left the room with Völgyeshy.

"Don't mention it," muttered the old soldier; "a man who has served the emperor so many years, and who has fought in the battle of Aspern, and in France, such a man wants none of your gratitude, especially since I have my own master. But I dare say Master Kalman would like to oblige our young lady. Very well, I'm agreeable; that's all I can say. He's a fine young fellow, and almost as good a horseman as my own master, which is saying a great deal, for he had the benefit of my schooling." Muttering these and other things, Janosh marched to the steward's house, where he met Peti the gipsy.

We need hardly say that Lady Kishlaki's dinner was as dull and gloomy as any dinner can be. Völgyeshy and Kalman were thoughtful and silent. The lady of the house did not press her guests to eat; nor did she ask them to excuse the bad cooking, although almost every dish stood in need of a thousand apologies. Mr. Kishlaki, who remarked his wife's altered manner, and who justly interpreted the looks of reproach which she cast upon him, sat staring at his plate with so anxious and careworn a face, that Völgyeshy would gladly have spoken to him but for the presence of Messrs. Skinner and Kenihazy, who, to do them justice, strove hard but unsuccessfully to amuse their host. Baron Shoskuty's compliments, and Mr. Zatonyi's anecdotes, were equally lost on their gloomy and dispirited audience; and everybody felt relieved when the dinner was over. Kalman, in particular, could hardly bridle his impatience; the moment Lady Kishlaki rose from the table, he left the room with Völgyeshy.

"How are we getting on, Janosh?" asked Kalman, when he saw the old hussar, who was smoking his pipe in the hall.

"Pretty well, sir; let us go to your room, and I'll tell you all about it."

"Do you think we can possibly save him?" asked Kalman, as they entered his apartments.

"Why not?" said Janosh. "The commander of the fortress has it all his own way. Any man whom he will allow to get out, why that man gets out—that's all."

"But how will you do it?"

"The curate of Tissaret is here," whispered the hussar. "When he saw that Viola was bound to a post, and in the open air, and in November, too, with but an armful of straw for him to lie on; and his poor wife and children shivering and shaking by his side;—and I tell you, sir, fine children they are, as fine as any you can see; but, as I told you, when the curate saw them, he said it was a shame, and he would not stand it, and the law was that the prisoner ought not to be kept in the open air at this time of the year. Says I to myself, when the curate sermonised them, says I, 'That's as lucky a thing as can be!' for, to tell you the truth, I had my doubts about our getting him off, if they'd keep him in that cursed shed. The great donkeys have put four lamps round him, seeing they wish to watch every one of his movements. But, of course, I didn't say a word about it. I only told the steward that there was no harm in what the curate said; for, after all, it is a safe thing to have your prisoner locked up and provided for."