CHAPTER V.ARRESTED.We were, as I have mentioned, being pushed steadily back, and the mob had begun to cheer, when a disturbance arose near the doorway, and a man, elbowing his way to the front, demanded angrily that the conflict should cease.At the sound of his voice many of the rioters fell back sullenly; and the rest, being thus deserted by their companions, were compelled to follow, though not without angry cries and mutterings.The newcomer, taking his stand directly below us, faced the mob, and in a sensible speech urged them to withdraw. The man was evidently well known to his hearers, and it was plain that he possessed considerable influence.At first they seemed half inclined to resent his interference, but by a skilful mixture of flattery and firmness he finally succeeded in getting them to disperse.Then he turned to us with graceful courtesy, and I recognized the handsome young fellow who had so opportunely come to our assistance outside the hôtel of the minister of war.However, before he had time to speak, we were joined by the ladies, who had watched the progress of the fight from the stair-head.The young fellow removed his cap, and bowed deferentially, almost to the ground."I am happy," he began with a stammer, very different from his former fluent speech, "to be of service to the Baroness von Arnstein and her daughter."The elder lady looked at him in scorn, and said coldly, "Your ragamuffins have much to answer for, Captain von Theyer.""And as for the service," exclaimed Theresa, "but for these gallant gentlemen who have now twice defended me against my own countrymen, it would be far too late.""Were you in your right place, you would be outside, not inside, the walls of Vienna," the baroness said with a marked sneer."I have done what I believed to be my duty," the young man replied humbly, "and my influence has always been used on the side of mercy. This very night I am trying to arrange conditions for the entry of the emperor's troops.""Conditions!" cried the baroness scornfully; "Windischgratz will make no terms with the rebels!""The night grows late," said Theresa, making him a mock curtsy, "and we have yet to repair the mischief done by your friends."I was sorry to see the humiliation put upon this blue-eyed young fellow; and though it was no concern of mine, I felt relieved when, with a confused apology for the excesses committed by the rioters, he took his leave.Besides, it was necessary to set Franz's arm, and Stephen also required attention, though happily he was not seriously hurt.The servants, who during the fight had left us in the lurch, now came forward to help.While one went to fetch a surgeon, others temporarily refixed the shattered door, and washed the blood-stains from the stairs.Rakoczy bound the arm of the valiant Franz, who, after receiving the thanks and praises of the ladies, was taken to his room.We persuaded Stephen to lie down on a couch, where the baroness herself washed his wounds, while Theresa prepared a cooling drink for him.As soon as the surgeon had paid his visit, the ladies retired, and Rakoczy and I took it upon ourselves to watch through the remainder of the night.We did not think it likely that the rioters would return; still it was possible, and we resolved upon leaving nothing to chance.My brother, weakened by loss of blood, had fallen asleep; the servants, with the exception of two posted as guards over the broken door, had gone to bed; the house was quite still.Rakoczy walked to and fro very softly, so as not to disturb Stephen, and I stood at one of the windows thinking of the yellow-haired fräulein and the dashing young leader of the insurgents.The hours dragged by very slowly, but daylight came at last, and I immediately sent one of the servants into the streets for news.He returned in about an hour, smiling and well pleased. The city was perfectly quiet, he said. There were no signs of fighting; the insurgents had once more submitted, and in a short time the National Guards were to give up their arms to the imperialists.With this information we joined the ladies at breakfast, Stephen looking rather pale but not seriously ill, and the rest of us little the worse for the night's adventure.Franz, too, was doing well, and the knowledge of the capitulation relieved the mind of our hostess from further fear.We were still sitting at table talking over the events of the brief revolution, when the loud report of a cannon caused us to spring to our feet.The baroness asked to have a window opened, and a white-faced servant obeyed with trembling fingers."Surely I hear the great bell of St. Stephen's?" exclaimed our hostess in astonishment."Yes, madam," said Rakoczy; "the tocsin is certainly sounding.""The people have broken faith again," said she. "I wonder the prince stoops to treat with them.""If you will permit me," said Rakoczy, "I will find out what is happening, and bring you a report. My friends will stay with you in case there should be danger."This proposal was agreed to, and as soon as he had gone we moved to the back part of the building, from which the southern part of the city could be seen.It was plain that the terrible struggle had recommenced. To the clanging of the great bell were added the sharp fire of musketry, the heavier booming of the cannon, and the shouts of the combatants.Suddenly, from the direction of the imperial stables, came a flight of shells and a line of fiery rockets, which fell hissing and sputtering on the doomed houses.It seemed as if the horrors of the twenty-eighth were to be repeated. The flames from the burning buildings illumined the sky in several different parts of the town, and we anxiously awaited the return of Rakoczy to learn the reason for these strange doings.It was one o'clock when he came back, and by that time the firing had ceased."It is all over now," he said. "The imperialists are in possession of the gates, and are disarming the National Guard. This last fight was a mistake. The leaders gave no orders for it; but the people grew excited, said they were betrayed, and, rushing to St. Stephen's, sounded the tocsin. Of course that set all the hot heads in motion, and very soon they were at their posts on the barricades and the bastions. Windischgratz replied promptly, as you would observe, and the magistrates, hoping to stop such a senseless fight, took the keys of the city to him on the glacis. The troops are working hard to put out the fires, and I think the Viennese have seen the last of their insurrection.""It will be rather awkward for the leaders," I remarked, thinking of the handsome young captain."They are like eels," said the baroness spitefully, "and will manage to wriggle out of it.""If they are half as clever as Captain von Theyer, they will be in no danger," exclaimed Theresa. "He will persuade his judges that everything he has done has been for the emperor.""A tongue of silver is a very good gift, sometimes," observed Rakoczy."I should think a steel blade would be of more importance to a soldier," retorted Stephen."It cannot do half as much mischief!" cried Theresa merrily. "But, are you going?" for my brother had risen."It is necessary," he answered, with the quiet, half-pathetic smile peculiar to him. "You do not need us longer; your friends are at hand. We, on the contrary, have to seek ours.""Which means you are about to join the ranks of our enemies?""We are Hungarians, and should be disgraced if we stood idly by while our countrymen fought for liberty.""I suppose you are right," said the baroness; "but it is a great pity. However, I hope the conflict will be short; and though I must wish for the success of my own side, I trust that God, who watches over each of us, will bring you safely through the fight.""We shall never forget what you have done for us," said Theresa softly, and her proud eyes strongly suggested tears.We wished them good-bye; and even when in the street I, for one, looked back to catch a last glimpse of the pretty fräulein as she waved her hand from the window in farewell."And now for Hungary!" cried "The Joyous," "though I fear we must travel afoot: horses are not to be had for love or money.""We can walk," replied my brother. "I have had more than enough of Vienna.""I believe George is sorry at leaving the pretty Austrian.""And her mother," I added, trying to make a laugh of it.At this "The Joyous" smiled, saying I was a hypocrite, and that it would be well to take me away with all speed.The streets were filled with soldiers, both Croats and Austrians, so we felt little surprised at finding a party of the latter drawn up near the house in which we lodged.There were two or three trifling articles belonging to us in our rooms; so, while Stephen settled accounts with the proprietor, Rakoczy and I ran upstairs. My brother shortly rejoined us, the things were packed in a small handbag, and we were ready to depart, when some one knocked at the door."Come in!" cried I briskly, and an officer in the Austrian service entered."I extremely regret my errand," said he pleasantly; "but duty is duty, and you must consider yourselves my prisoners. Feeling sure you would not care to make a scene, I have left my men in the street. You have simply to give your parole not to attempt an escape, and I shall not use force.""Very kind of you!" exclaimed Rakoczy. "But isn't there some mistake?"The officer took a paper from his pocket."Stephen and George Botskay and John Rakoczy," he said, and proceeded to read descriptions of our persons--accurate, indeed, but expressed in very flattering language."Come!" laughed "The Joyous;" "after that it will be uncivil to refuse our parole.""And quite useless," I added in Hungarian. "If we escaped the officer, we could not leave the city.""What do you say, Stephen?""Surrender is a poor way of beginning a fight.""So it is!" laughed our companion; "but, as your brother remarked, we can't help ourselves. The question is, Shall we walk to prison as gentlemen, or be dragged there as criminals? So, by your leave, I'll take advantage, in all our names, of the offer we have received."Our captor, who was certainly a very polished gentleman, did all he could to soften the blow.Very few people noticed us as we walked towards the infantry barracks, where we were to be detained till further orders.The officer did not know the reason of our arrest; but he assured us the victors were acting mercifully, and, unless our fault had been extremely grave, we need not fear.At the barracks the soldiers offered us no indignities, which was in striking contrast with their treatment of some students brought in at the same time, whom they loaded with abuse and even struck.They looked on these enthusiastic youths as the authors of all the mischief, and to a certain extent they were doubtless right.Our prison was a small, square room with whitewashed walls, bare of furniture, but having benches round the sides."Well," said I in disgust, "what are we to do now?""Go to sleep, and dream we are in Pesth," replied Rakoczy, lying down on one of the benches.Stephen paced backward and forward restlessly."I don't understand it at all," he observed. "Why have they arrested us? What can we be charged with?""Depends upon who our accusers are," answered Rakoczy. "It is plain that some kind friend has denounced us by name to the Austrian general."At once I thought of Count Beula, but John shook his head."I think not. The count owes us a grudge, but he will pay his debt in Hungary, not here. My idea points to a different man altogether--a clever and unscrupulous fellow, who has no wish to see an Austro-Hungarian alliance."He looked meaningly at Stephen, who nodded."Don't speak in riddles!" I exclaimed irritably. "Tell me in plain words what you think!"He clapped me on the back, and after indulging in a little good-humoured chaff, explained that in his opinion we owed our arrest to Captain von Theyer."It's this way," he continued, laughing at my surprised looks. "There's no doubt that the captain cares a good deal for the pretty Theresa. It is equally certain that he has no friend in the baroness.""Well?" I said."Don't be impatient. I'm coming to the point. Had this insurrection proved successful, Von Theyer would now be a very important person, and his influence worth securing, even by the powerful Baroness von Arnstein. Unluckily for him, it has fizzled out like a damp squib; so he has seized the first opportunity of making his peace with the victors.""What has that to do with us?""Much. For one thing, he thus shows his zeal in the cause of the imperialists. In the second place, he would not be too pleased at finding how friendly we had become with the fräulein.""Do you mean the fellow is jealous of us?" I said, blushing crimson."Of me," replied Rakoczy, curling his moustache and looking very grave.I half suspected he was quizzing me, but could not feel quite certain, till I caught him winking at Stephen, when they both laughed."The jest won't prove quite so pleasant if we're locked up till the end of the war," I said; but of that Rakoczy had no fear.However, we had spent several tedious days in our temporary prison, when one morning a party of soldiers came to escort us to the general, who was inspecting the barracks.Prince Windischgratz, attended by several members of his staff, was in a room in the officers' quarters.He was a noble-looking old man, dressed in full uniform, with his breast covered by medals and ribbons--mementoes of many hard-fought campaigns. His face was mild and humane, but the firm chin and the latent fire in his eyes showed that he could be severe when necessary.Addressing us in a mild voice, he asked us how it happened that we were found in Vienna with arms in our hands.Rakoczy was about to reply when Stephen forestalled him, which I regretted, as my brother was not remarkable for the calmness of his language."Before answering that question," he said hotly, "we have a right to know by whose authority three peaceable travellers have been arrested like criminals, and deprived of their liberty."Several of the officers uttered angry exclamations, but the prince smiled good-naturedly."There is some difference between peaceful travellers and armed rebels," said he; "and you are suspected of being the latter.""It is false!" retorted my brother flatly."Appearances are against you. You were seen at the bridge of Tabor, and at least one of you is supposed to have joined in the disgraceful murder of the noble Count Latour.""Hungarians are not assassins," said Stephen coldly."The friends of Count Lamberg speak differently," interrupted one of the officers with a bitter sneer."You are ungenerous, sir, to taunt the Hungarian nation with the crime of a handful of ragamuffins," I said."Yes, yes," exclaimed the prince; "but that is not the point. Can you deny the charges made against you?"Stephen glanced round him indifferently; he would not deign to answer, and I followed his example.Rakoczy, however, still smiling and confident, spoke for all."You have asked a question, prince," he said, "and you shall have a reply, though it may not be to the liking of some of these gentlemen. We were all three present at the attack on the bridge, and when your general fell, I by main force prevented my friend Stephen Botskay from throwing himself single-handed against the rebels. As to the murder of Count Latour, George Botskay risked his life time and again to save him, not from Hungarians, but from Austrians. Do you see this wound?" and he bared his arm. "That was done by an Austrian pike. Would you know why that gallant lad's head is swathed in bandages? Ask your fellow-countrymen, prince. The answer will show you that not Hungary alone harbours assassins.""Talk is cheap," sneered the officer who had spoken before. "Why, that very fellow was at the first barricade in the Prater!""Is that so?" asked the prince."Yes," said Rakoczy simply; "I was there.""Which many a poor fellow had reason to be thankful for," I interrupted. "More than one man in your ranks to-day owes his life to John Rakoczy's bravery.""At this rate, your highness, it will soon appear that the town was captured by these heroes," chuckled a grizzled veteran.I concluded that the speaker was of high rank, as every one laughed at his remark, as if he had said something witty.They were still enjoying the joke when the door opened and another officer entered the room.He was a man past the prime of life, with grey hair and white moustaches, but alert, strong, and vigorous. His sight was keen, his bearing martial, and the deep scars of two wounds long since healed bore witness to his courage as a soldier.His entrance attracted notice, and the prince himself stepped forward to greet him.The others withdrew a little way, leaving the two chiefs together, and they immediately began talking very earnestly. From time to time they both looked at us, and gradually a pleasant smile spread over the prince's face.At length the conversation was finished, and the prince, turning to his staff, said,--"Gentlemen, we owe these brave Hungarians an apology for our suspicions. Instead of aiding the rebels, they have acted in a very noble manner, and to them Baron von Arnstein is indebted for the lives of his wife and daughter.--Baron, these gentlemen are no longer our prisoners; I wish they could be counted amongst our friends.""That would follow naturally," said Rakoczy, "if every Austrian were a Prince Windischgratz.""I cannot accept the compliment; it would be unfair to my brave colleagues," the general replied. "However, I can thank you all three for your generous behaviour, which I do most heartily."We replied in the same spirit, and, accompanied by Baron von Arnstein, left the room.That nobleman could with difficulty restrain his emotion; he thanked us twenty times while crossing the barrack square, and urged us repeatedly to return home with him. I should have liked this famously; but Stephen was anxious to leave the city, and I did not wish to thwart him.Accordingly, after our weapons were restored, it was agreed that the baron should conduct us through the Austrian lines. He had only heard of his daughter's rescue that morning, and, knowing there were three prisoners bearing the same names as those mentioned by his wife, had immediately hurried off to Prince Windischgratz."I do not ask where you are going," he said, as we passed through the city gate into the ruined suburb, "but I could wish that your steps pointed westward rather than to the east.""Perhaps it will be as well not to tell you," replied Rakoczy with a smile; "but if ever you need a friend in the Hungarian army, let one of us know.""It is a terrible business, but we at least must not quarrel. Still, I cannot understand why you and gallant lads like these should be so eager to fight for a republic. I should have thought you were royalists to the backbone.""So we are," said Stephen promptly. "Royalists and loyalists too, if the emperor will but grant our rights.""What do you think, then, would happen, if by any means the war should end in your favour?""We should force the emperor to restore our constitution, and then return to our allegiance.""Shake hands all round," said Rakoczy genially.The baron shook his head."Pardon me," he said; "but I am getting an old man, and years bring experience. You deceive yourselves, or rather, have had dust thrown in your eyes. Kossuth and his friends are not fighting for a restored constitution, but to make Hungary a republic. Victory on your side will mean an exchange of Ferdinand the king for Kossuth the dictator.""Then," exclaimed Stephen sternly, "defeat will be more welcome than victory, for, if what you say be true, the land will swim in blood. Here are three royalists whose forefathers drew the sword for Maria Theresa, and there are scores of thousands like us.""You will hear our armies join battle to the cry of 'Long live Hungary and King Ferdinand!'" said Rakoczy. "We don't want a republic."This talk of the baron's, so like what we had before heard, set us thinking, and it was in rather a sad humour that we crossed the Austrian or rather imperialist camp.The baron saw us in safety to the farthest outpost, where we stopped to wish him farewell."Good-bye," he said kindly. "I cannot pretend to hope your armies will prove successful, but from my heart I wish you personally good-luck in your venture. Our people will do you no harm, except to make prisoners of you; but mind the Croats--they are rather bloodthirsty, and not over well disciplined."We thanked him for his advice, sent back a friendly message to his wife and daughter, and then set out on our journey."A fine fellow," remarked Rakoczy, throwing a glance back. "I hope we shall never meet him in a charge."CHAPTER VIHARD WORK AT PESTH."Rakoczy! Not dead? Where did you spring from? Vienna? Been helping theprolétaires? No? Then you must have been plotting treason with the imperialists. But come into my tent. Who are your companions? I can see they are true Magyars. Sons of the late General Botskay?--Welcome, my lads! Your name alone would draw a welcome from any Magyar in the country."A tall man, plainly dressed in the uniform of a major of Honveds, having a strong, wiry, but spare frame, his hair cut quite close to his head, sharp eyes--their light half hidden behind spectacles--his face hard and weather-beaten, with a reddish undergrowth of beard; such in appearance was Arthur Görgei, who was to become, without exception, the most famous general in Hungary.From Vienna we had journeyed to Presburg, and thence to Raab, following the Hungarians, who were moving back on Comorn, and overtaking them at Raab.Rakoczy, who had known Görgei in private life, immediately inquired for the general, and we were conducted to him."Haven't any refreshments to offer you," he continued, when we were inside the tent; "but never mind--somebody has."He went to the opening, and we heard him say,--"Here, Sturitz! Borrow me a bottle of wine or two, and some glasses.--So, old fellow, you've been watching the fight? Didn't you long to join in? How did the good citizens like to see our retreat from Schwechat?""Not at all. They were dumfounded. They couldn't believe it possible that the Hungarians were running away."The general clapped the speaker on the back, and laughed with the most frank good-humour."Run!" he exclaimed; "that word tells nothing! They rushed headlong over one another; they threw away what weapons they had and vanished. Moza was in chief command, and he sent me with a brigade to attack Schwechat. We were a mile and a half from our supports. Windischgratz sent his horse-artillery at us, and, heigh, presto! the brigade was gone. Out of nearly five thousand I saw only one man, and he was an old soldier on the sick list.""But what did the other brigades do?"Görgei pushed up his spectacles and looked at us with a twinkle."The other brigades? The supports?" he said. "Oh, they took to their heels before my fellows did; but they'll all make capital soldiers after a few months' drill. Here comes Sturitz with the wine, and we'll drink their healths.""Capital chap, this Sturitz, to send borrowing," remarked Rakoczy, sipping his wine. "He brings good stuff.""And, better still, forgets where it came from, so that he can never repay it. So, my lads, you've come to join the army? Well, there's one thing; your father's sons will never show the men how to run away.""One moment, general," said Stephen. "Can you tell me what we're supposed to be fighting for?"Görgei looked from my brother to Rakoczy, who said,--"In truth, general, things seem a little bit mixed. Over in Vienna they talk as if we wanted to set up a republic.""A republic?" cried Görgei. "What stuff! Haven't they read history? Don't they know that Hungary is royalist to the core? Why, if the king came to this camp, the men would carry him shoulder high from one end of it to the other. Why, at Schwechat they ran away to the cry of 'Long live King Ferdinand!'""That ought to be proof enough," replied Rakoczy, laughing, "and I'm glad to hear it; because, like these lads, I've no idea of spilling my blood in order to make Kossuth dictator.""You're going to fight, my dear fellow, and not bother your head about politics. First, though, there's a lot of work to be done. We want ammunition and stores of all sorts, and, as much as anything, we want soldiers; we've plenty of men.""You aren't going to turn me into a drill-sergeant?""I am though. 'Right! Left! Keep your heads up there! Close up on the right!' That will be your work for the next week or two, while I dodge about here, and make Windischgratz believe we're burning to fight.""Where am I to go?""Pesth, with the rank of major. Tedious work you'll find it, and no glory either; but you'll do more good there than marching and counter-marching with me. Now, as to these lads. Which is it to be--a showy uniform or downright hard grinding?""Take them on your staff," suggested Rakoczy. "They'll get both then.""Haven't room for more than one.""Let that be Stephen," I exclaimed promptly."Take George. He is the better horseman," said my brother."Toss for it!" cried the general, taking a coin from his pocket; "but don't stick to this bit of silver. I keep it as a curiosity; it's almost the only one in the country."The spin of the coin decided in favour of Stephen, and it was accordingly settled that he should remain with the army, while I went to Pesth as a lieutenant of Honveds.We had drunk another glass of wine to the success of the coming campaign; and Görgei, having made out the necessary papers, gave Sturitz orders to furnish us with horses.Then, with kindly thought, the general took Rakoczy outside, leaving me to wish my brother farewell.It was the first time in our lives we had been called on to separate, and the parting was a sad one to both of us; but we made a fine show of good spirits, and talked confidently of seeing each other again in a few weeks."There's Sturitz with the animals," said Stephen, as the clatter of horses' hoofs sounded outside the tent. "Well, good-bye, dear old fellow.""Don't be too venturesome," I replied, and returning the pressure of his hand, followed him to where the general stood with Rakoczy."Here you are, George," cried the latter gaily. "Thanks to the chief, we start the war on horseback, however we may finish.""Remember," said the general, "drill, drill, drill, and plenty of rifle practice.""We'll bear it in mind, general, and teach the fellows how to hit a windmill at least.--Now, George, up you get," and he swung himself into his own saddle with the ease of a practised rider.Glancing back, I saw Stephen waving his cap, and Görgei with his hands behind his back and his head bent forward, already plunged in deep thought.The weather was bitterly cold, and the roads were abominable; but we rode thoroughbred Magyar horses, which carried us at a rattling pace.I was, in truth, rather miserable at leaving my brother; but the crisp, keen air, the sharp gallop, and the merry spirits of my companion soon chased away my melancholy."Wonderful man, Görgei," he said, when the horses, having settled down to a slower pace, made talking possible. "Kossuth did one good thing in giving him a high command. Hard as iron, and a born soldier.""Has he ever seen service?""Only for a short time as a lieutenant in the bodyguard. But he has a spirit which nothing can break, an energy that never tires; and he can endure as much fatigue as any man in the country. I knew him and his brothers when they were youngsters; in fact, we were boys together. They were in good circumstances, but their mother brought them up to live hard. They learned early to take the rough with the smooth, and to laugh at hardships. They never felt the cold in the bitterest winter, and when the rain soaked them through, why, they just got dry again.""Where are the others?""Don't know; but wherever the hardest work's to be done, you may be sure. Stephen will find his job tougher than ours.""It will please him the more. By the way, I wonder if Count Beula escaped from Vienna?""Most likely. Bern did. Görgei told me they smuggled the Pole out, shut up in a coffin. That's how the story runs, whether true or not; but, at any rate, Bern's in Transylvania with 25,000 good fighting men.""It's very good of the Poles to help us, but I'd rather see a Hungarian army led by a Magyar chief.""So would I. Still, we ought not to grumble with the bridge that carries us over the stream."Sound advice, no doubt, though it scarcely satisfied me, and I was to think a good deal more about it before the campaign finished.The journey to Pesth passed without incident, as we were amidst friends; and the morning after our arrival in the city we began our new duties.As the general had stated, there were numbers of men willing and eager to join the army, but they were without weapons, except hay-forks and such like implements, and had not the faintest notion of military drill.However, they were enthusiastic, and if not patient, at least tractable; so their instructors hoped to make something of them before long.The drill-ground was the great plain or field of Rakos, behind the city, which in olden days was the meeting-place of the Diet, when our Magyar forefathers, attended by their vassals, assembled to discuss the affairs of the nation.Once again the place was filled with men who had come together in thousands--ploughmen, carters, shepherds, miners--not to talk, but to learn how to fight the enemies of their country.To a military veteran the spectacle must have afforded ample food for fun and amusement. Rakoczy laughed without stint.Thousands of men, grouped in small detachments, were going through the elementary steps--men drawn from all parts of the kingdom, and dressed in every conceivable style, but for the most part true Magyars.Here a peasant, in loose black linen shirt, black trousers, embroidered waistcoat, and gay-coloured jacket, wearing gaiter boots and a large-brimmed Spanish-looking hat, jostled a neighbour in a sheepskin coat, with a hat made of rushes, and huge sandals on his feet.Here one saw a group of hardy fellows arrayed in embroidered petticoats and kalpags--the national caps, made of fur and adorned with feathers; there, men from the south with broad felt hats, leather girdles, gatya or full white linen trousers, and shirts that scarcely reached to the waist.In one respect, however, they were all alike--they were dreadfully in earnest and bent on learning their new trade.It was early morning when we went out to the Rakos; the sun had set when we returned to the city.All day long we had been hard at work drilling one squad after another, till our limbs ached and our throats were parched as the crater of a volcano.Rakoczy soon threw off the feeling of fatigue, and after dinner strolled with others of the officers into the town; but I was thoroughly tired, and slipped off to bed.Certainly Görgei spoke truth when he described the work as tedious and without glory; but it had to be done nevertheless, and for several weeks the unceasing toil continued.There was little variety in our lives just at that time. We went out in the morning, drilled the recruits all day, and returned at night tired as dogs.Early in December we learned that the emperor had abdicated in favour of the young archduke, Francis Joseph, that Prince Windischgratz was almost ready to march, and that Jellachich had already started.Though hearing nothing of Stephen, I did not feel uneasy, as thus far Görgei had only made a show of fighting to delay the enemy's advance while we were shaping an army.From the second week in December every day brought a rumour of some sort, which we had more leisure to talk over, as the darkness made late drill impossible.Rakoczy and I spent Christmas Day in marching with a batch of passed recruits to a small village situated several miles from the city, where a body of troops had been stationed.The weather was simply detestable. First it rained in torrents, then it snowed, and the snow froze before reaching the ground, and, but for the bundas or overmantles in which we were wrapped, we should have perished on the march.To add to the charm of the situation, the guide mistook the route, and we wandered about for several hours, stiff with cold and hollow from hunger.When we did reach the village, the welcome from the troops made us forget the discomforts of the journey; and as our duties ended in handing over the fresh soldiers to the commandant, we spent the evening very agreeably with the officers.The next morning, before starting for Pesth, we learned that Görgei, having abandoned Raab, was falling back on the capital, and that General Perczel was being hard pressed by the Croats under Jellachich.Two or three days later the news came of Perczel's defeat at Moor, and a message from Comorn announced that Windischgratz had summoned the fortress.Görgei was now manoeuvring to join the remnants of Perczel's army, in which he afterwards succeeded; but the news of these disasters caused great consternation in Pesth, and the members of the Diet determined to remove the seat of government to Debreczin.On the last day of the year 1848, crowds of old men, women, and children left the city, and my heart ached, as I watched them toil painfully onwards, to think of the terrible march that lay before them.However, as the man in Vienna had said, rose-water and kid gloves go ill with revolutions; but I wished it was possible to lift the burden from the shoulders of those so ill fitted to bear it.That same night a grand reception was held in the palace of Count Szondi, and as invitations had been sent to all the officers still in the city, Rakoczy and I went.I have often thought since of that magnificent spectacle. The brilliant uniforms of the soldiers, the sparkling eyes of the beautiful Magyar ladies, who were all dressed in the national costume, the ruby velvet dolmans of the wealthy citizens, the gorgeous dresses of the nobles, the brilliant lights from burnished chandeliers, the handsome furniture, the rugs of ermine and sable, the masterpieces of famous Hungarian artists hanging on the walls in heavily-gilded frames, the incessant sparkle and play of diamonds as the guests glided hither and thither, presented a scene that one does not easily forget.Hitherto my time had been so fully occupied that I had not been able to seek out old friends, and now most of them had departed; but here and there I saw a familiar face and heard a voice that recalled to me the joys of bygone days.Chief amongst the guests, and surrounded by a group of distinguished men and beautiful women, stood a remarkably handsome man, above the average height, straight, and of a fine athletic build.His black, curly hair hung over his shoulders, his well-trimmed beard covered his breast. The manly expression of his face and the fiery glow in his eyes formed a true index to his bold, headstrong, and enthusiastic nature. He looked fit to be, as he was, the leader of the Magyar nobles who had taken up arms against the Austrian oppression.This was Count Louis Batthiany before the evil days, alas! so soon to come, fell upon him.Towards midnight there arose a great stir in the crowded assembly, a movement of feet, a craning of necks, a low hum which quickly swelled in volume; and turning round I saw that another distinguished visitor had entered the room.Watching his almost royal progress through the brilliant throng, I thought of the words spoken by Baron von Arnstein, and looked on coldly.But though, unlike the majority of my fellow-countrymen, I had early been prejudiced against Louis Kossuth, I have no wish to deny his marvellous and almost superhuman gifts.A true Hungarian, he loved his country with fond affection; but his views were not mine, and even in those days I thought him wrong.A man of medium height and wiry frame, he passed through the crowded room with dignified carriage and grace of movement. The paleness of his oval face was very striking, and his high, open forehead betokened keen intelligence. His eyes were blue, and though naturally dreamy, they often flashed fire; his eyebrows were dark and thick; and over his chestnut hair he wore a wig. He had a small, well-formed mouth, fine teeth, firm, round chin, and delicate white hands with tapering fingers like those of an artist.He wore a plain Honved uniform, over which was thrown a grey mantle.The count stepped forward to meet him, and the two talked together earnestly, but in low tones."Kossuth is a great man!" exclaimed a portly civilian standing near us."True, friend!" replied Rakoczy, with his ever-ready smile, "but Hungary has no lack of great men; they grow as thick as robinias in the gardens.""Kossuth is a splendid talker.""Right again, friend," said my companion dryly. "His eloquence has created the raw material which Görgei will fashion into an army. Some talk, some fight; let each man stick to his trade.""I hope," said the citizen mildly, after a glance at our Honved uniforms, "that Görgei will be able to make something of you."Rakoczy laughed so heartily that several people turned to discover the reason of his mirth, and we thought it best to move away from the mild-mannered but caustic civilian.Soon after this Kossuth left, taking Batthiany with him, and the rest of us moved into the large banqueting-hall, where refreshments had been laid.At the last stroke of midnight Count Szondi rose, and a great hush fell on the brilliant assembly as the old noble with his venerable white locks faced us."Magyars!" he said, and the veteran's voice was firm and clear as a bell, "the year is dead; we do not mourn it. The new year is born, and with it a glorious future for Hungary. The Magyar is in arms; let those beware who seek to thwart him. Magyars, let us drink to the prosperity of the sacred fatherland."The words were few and simple--the speaker was no orator; yet, as he raised the brimming glass to his lips, a fit of wild enthusiasm seized every man and woman in that spacious hall.The men cheered again and again till their voices were hoarse; the women joined in the plaudits, their eyes sparkling, their cheeks aflame with excitement. Handkerchiefs fluttered and ribbons waved in the air; the scene became indescribable.An officer said something, I know not what, but the next moment Rakoczy was at the farther end of the room, mounted on a chair.The sight of his handsome face arrested attention; the hubbub gradually died away. Profound silence followed. The people, thinking he was about to speak, listened eagerly.I have mentioned that Rakoczy had a magnificent voice, but until that night I had not even dreamed of its power.The lights, the wine, the beautiful faces of the Magyar ladies, the martial aspect of the men, the stirring excitement of the time, the dangers surrounding our beloved country, the knowledge that thousands of our comrades were in arms against the foe, all helped to enhance the effect, but much was due to Rakoczy himself.We stood, I repeat, motionless as statues, gazing at him, when suddenly there issued from his throat, echoing and re-echoing through the hall, the first notes of the National Hymn.We held our breath; tears were in the eyes of some; half-choking sobs came from the throats of others; bosoms heaved and cheeks burned like fire; men, unable to restrain their emotions, clinched their hands till the finger nails dug into the palms.Loud and clear the martial notes rang out. They spoke to our hearts; they called us to battle, to death if need be, in defence of our fatherland.We hung upon them breathlessly. Our hands unconsciously gripped the hilts of our swords. The hot blood tore through our veins. We heard nothing, were conscious of nothing, but the glorious Magyar hymn whose notes throbbed in every fibre of our bodies.The first verse was finished, and as Rakoczy began the second every voice joined in. The restrained excitement had burst its bonds like the Danube in flood. It could no longer be held back; it was bound to find a vent, and it found it in song.I know little of music, but grander music was never heard than that in the banqueting-hall of Count Szondi when the year 1849 was born.As the last notes died away, the cheering was frantically renewed. Women sobbed openly, and there were few men iron-nerved enough to hide their emotion.Then, with a ringing "Elijen Szondi!" in honour of our host, we broke up and passed singly or in groups into the street.The night was dark and dreary, snow lay thick on the ground, a storm of frozen sleet hurled itself into our faces, and the bitter cold made us shiver beneath our fur-lined mantles."A wonderful contrast this," I exclaimed, setting off with "The Joyous" and several other officers for the barracks."As great as that between Hungary united and Hungary divided against itself," replied one of them."Or as that between Batthiany and Kossuth," suggested Rakoczy, after which we lapsed into silence.
CHAPTER V.
ARRESTED.
We were, as I have mentioned, being pushed steadily back, and the mob had begun to cheer, when a disturbance arose near the doorway, and a man, elbowing his way to the front, demanded angrily that the conflict should cease.
At the sound of his voice many of the rioters fell back sullenly; and the rest, being thus deserted by their companions, were compelled to follow, though not without angry cries and mutterings.
The newcomer, taking his stand directly below us, faced the mob, and in a sensible speech urged them to withdraw. The man was evidently well known to his hearers, and it was plain that he possessed considerable influence.
At first they seemed half inclined to resent his interference, but by a skilful mixture of flattery and firmness he finally succeeded in getting them to disperse.
Then he turned to us with graceful courtesy, and I recognized the handsome young fellow who had so opportunely come to our assistance outside the hôtel of the minister of war.
However, before he had time to speak, we were joined by the ladies, who had watched the progress of the fight from the stair-head.
The young fellow removed his cap, and bowed deferentially, almost to the ground.
"I am happy," he began with a stammer, very different from his former fluent speech, "to be of service to the Baroness von Arnstein and her daughter."
The elder lady looked at him in scorn, and said coldly, "Your ragamuffins have much to answer for, Captain von Theyer."
"And as for the service," exclaimed Theresa, "but for these gallant gentlemen who have now twice defended me against my own countrymen, it would be far too late."
"Were you in your right place, you would be outside, not inside, the walls of Vienna," the baroness said with a marked sneer.
"I have done what I believed to be my duty," the young man replied humbly, "and my influence has always been used on the side of mercy. This very night I am trying to arrange conditions for the entry of the emperor's troops."
"Conditions!" cried the baroness scornfully; "Windischgratz will make no terms with the rebels!"
"The night grows late," said Theresa, making him a mock curtsy, "and we have yet to repair the mischief done by your friends."
I was sorry to see the humiliation put upon this blue-eyed young fellow; and though it was no concern of mine, I felt relieved when, with a confused apology for the excesses committed by the rioters, he took his leave.
Besides, it was necessary to set Franz's arm, and Stephen also required attention, though happily he was not seriously hurt.
The servants, who during the fight had left us in the lurch, now came forward to help.
While one went to fetch a surgeon, others temporarily refixed the shattered door, and washed the blood-stains from the stairs.
Rakoczy bound the arm of the valiant Franz, who, after receiving the thanks and praises of the ladies, was taken to his room.
We persuaded Stephen to lie down on a couch, where the baroness herself washed his wounds, while Theresa prepared a cooling drink for him.
As soon as the surgeon had paid his visit, the ladies retired, and Rakoczy and I took it upon ourselves to watch through the remainder of the night.
We did not think it likely that the rioters would return; still it was possible, and we resolved upon leaving nothing to chance.
My brother, weakened by loss of blood, had fallen asleep; the servants, with the exception of two posted as guards over the broken door, had gone to bed; the house was quite still.
Rakoczy walked to and fro very softly, so as not to disturb Stephen, and I stood at one of the windows thinking of the yellow-haired fräulein and the dashing young leader of the insurgents.
The hours dragged by very slowly, but daylight came at last, and I immediately sent one of the servants into the streets for news.
He returned in about an hour, smiling and well pleased. The city was perfectly quiet, he said. There were no signs of fighting; the insurgents had once more submitted, and in a short time the National Guards were to give up their arms to the imperialists.
With this information we joined the ladies at breakfast, Stephen looking rather pale but not seriously ill, and the rest of us little the worse for the night's adventure.
Franz, too, was doing well, and the knowledge of the capitulation relieved the mind of our hostess from further fear.
We were still sitting at table talking over the events of the brief revolution, when the loud report of a cannon caused us to spring to our feet.
The baroness asked to have a window opened, and a white-faced servant obeyed with trembling fingers.
"Surely I hear the great bell of St. Stephen's?" exclaimed our hostess in astonishment.
"Yes, madam," said Rakoczy; "the tocsin is certainly sounding."
"The people have broken faith again," said she. "I wonder the prince stoops to treat with them."
"If you will permit me," said Rakoczy, "I will find out what is happening, and bring you a report. My friends will stay with you in case there should be danger."
This proposal was agreed to, and as soon as he had gone we moved to the back part of the building, from which the southern part of the city could be seen.
It was plain that the terrible struggle had recommenced. To the clanging of the great bell were added the sharp fire of musketry, the heavier booming of the cannon, and the shouts of the combatants.
Suddenly, from the direction of the imperial stables, came a flight of shells and a line of fiery rockets, which fell hissing and sputtering on the doomed houses.
It seemed as if the horrors of the twenty-eighth were to be repeated. The flames from the burning buildings illumined the sky in several different parts of the town, and we anxiously awaited the return of Rakoczy to learn the reason for these strange doings.
It was one o'clock when he came back, and by that time the firing had ceased.
"It is all over now," he said. "The imperialists are in possession of the gates, and are disarming the National Guard. This last fight was a mistake. The leaders gave no orders for it; but the people grew excited, said they were betrayed, and, rushing to St. Stephen's, sounded the tocsin. Of course that set all the hot heads in motion, and very soon they were at their posts on the barricades and the bastions. Windischgratz replied promptly, as you would observe, and the magistrates, hoping to stop such a senseless fight, took the keys of the city to him on the glacis. The troops are working hard to put out the fires, and I think the Viennese have seen the last of their insurrection."
"It will be rather awkward for the leaders," I remarked, thinking of the handsome young captain.
"They are like eels," said the baroness spitefully, "and will manage to wriggle out of it."
"If they are half as clever as Captain von Theyer, they will be in no danger," exclaimed Theresa. "He will persuade his judges that everything he has done has been for the emperor."
"A tongue of silver is a very good gift, sometimes," observed Rakoczy.
"I should think a steel blade would be of more importance to a soldier," retorted Stephen.
"It cannot do half as much mischief!" cried Theresa merrily. "But, are you going?" for my brother had risen.
"It is necessary," he answered, with the quiet, half-pathetic smile peculiar to him. "You do not need us longer; your friends are at hand. We, on the contrary, have to seek ours."
"Which means you are about to join the ranks of our enemies?"
"We are Hungarians, and should be disgraced if we stood idly by while our countrymen fought for liberty."
"I suppose you are right," said the baroness; "but it is a great pity. However, I hope the conflict will be short; and though I must wish for the success of my own side, I trust that God, who watches over each of us, will bring you safely through the fight."
"We shall never forget what you have done for us," said Theresa softly, and her proud eyes strongly suggested tears.
We wished them good-bye; and even when in the street I, for one, looked back to catch a last glimpse of the pretty fräulein as she waved her hand from the window in farewell.
"And now for Hungary!" cried "The Joyous," "though I fear we must travel afoot: horses are not to be had for love or money."
"We can walk," replied my brother. "I have had more than enough of Vienna."
"I believe George is sorry at leaving the pretty Austrian."
"And her mother," I added, trying to make a laugh of it.
At this "The Joyous" smiled, saying I was a hypocrite, and that it would be well to take me away with all speed.
The streets were filled with soldiers, both Croats and Austrians, so we felt little surprised at finding a party of the latter drawn up near the house in which we lodged.
There were two or three trifling articles belonging to us in our rooms; so, while Stephen settled accounts with the proprietor, Rakoczy and I ran upstairs. My brother shortly rejoined us, the things were packed in a small handbag, and we were ready to depart, when some one knocked at the door.
"Come in!" cried I briskly, and an officer in the Austrian service entered.
"I extremely regret my errand," said he pleasantly; "but duty is duty, and you must consider yourselves my prisoners. Feeling sure you would not care to make a scene, I have left my men in the street. You have simply to give your parole not to attempt an escape, and I shall not use force."
"Very kind of you!" exclaimed Rakoczy. "But isn't there some mistake?"
The officer took a paper from his pocket.
"Stephen and George Botskay and John Rakoczy," he said, and proceeded to read descriptions of our persons--accurate, indeed, but expressed in very flattering language.
"Come!" laughed "The Joyous;" "after that it will be uncivil to refuse our parole."
"And quite useless," I added in Hungarian. "If we escaped the officer, we could not leave the city."
"What do you say, Stephen?"
"Surrender is a poor way of beginning a fight."
"So it is!" laughed our companion; "but, as your brother remarked, we can't help ourselves. The question is, Shall we walk to prison as gentlemen, or be dragged there as criminals? So, by your leave, I'll take advantage, in all our names, of the offer we have received."
Our captor, who was certainly a very polished gentleman, did all he could to soften the blow.
Very few people noticed us as we walked towards the infantry barracks, where we were to be detained till further orders.
The officer did not know the reason of our arrest; but he assured us the victors were acting mercifully, and, unless our fault had been extremely grave, we need not fear.
At the barracks the soldiers offered us no indignities, which was in striking contrast with their treatment of some students brought in at the same time, whom they loaded with abuse and even struck.
They looked on these enthusiastic youths as the authors of all the mischief, and to a certain extent they were doubtless right.
Our prison was a small, square room with whitewashed walls, bare of furniture, but having benches round the sides.
"Well," said I in disgust, "what are we to do now?"
"Go to sleep, and dream we are in Pesth," replied Rakoczy, lying down on one of the benches.
Stephen paced backward and forward restlessly.
"I don't understand it at all," he observed. "Why have they arrested us? What can we be charged with?"
"Depends upon who our accusers are," answered Rakoczy. "It is plain that some kind friend has denounced us by name to the Austrian general."
At once I thought of Count Beula, but John shook his head.
"I think not. The count owes us a grudge, but he will pay his debt in Hungary, not here. My idea points to a different man altogether--a clever and unscrupulous fellow, who has no wish to see an Austro-Hungarian alliance."
He looked meaningly at Stephen, who nodded.
"Don't speak in riddles!" I exclaimed irritably. "Tell me in plain words what you think!"
He clapped me on the back, and after indulging in a little good-humoured chaff, explained that in his opinion we owed our arrest to Captain von Theyer.
"It's this way," he continued, laughing at my surprised looks. "There's no doubt that the captain cares a good deal for the pretty Theresa. It is equally certain that he has no friend in the baroness."
"Well?" I said.
"Don't be impatient. I'm coming to the point. Had this insurrection proved successful, Von Theyer would now be a very important person, and his influence worth securing, even by the powerful Baroness von Arnstein. Unluckily for him, it has fizzled out like a damp squib; so he has seized the first opportunity of making his peace with the victors."
"What has that to do with us?"
"Much. For one thing, he thus shows his zeal in the cause of the imperialists. In the second place, he would not be too pleased at finding how friendly we had become with the fräulein."
"Do you mean the fellow is jealous of us?" I said, blushing crimson.
"Of me," replied Rakoczy, curling his moustache and looking very grave.
I half suspected he was quizzing me, but could not feel quite certain, till I caught him winking at Stephen, when they both laughed.
"The jest won't prove quite so pleasant if we're locked up till the end of the war," I said; but of that Rakoczy had no fear.
However, we had spent several tedious days in our temporary prison, when one morning a party of soldiers came to escort us to the general, who was inspecting the barracks.
Prince Windischgratz, attended by several members of his staff, was in a room in the officers' quarters.
He was a noble-looking old man, dressed in full uniform, with his breast covered by medals and ribbons--mementoes of many hard-fought campaigns. His face was mild and humane, but the firm chin and the latent fire in his eyes showed that he could be severe when necessary.
Addressing us in a mild voice, he asked us how it happened that we were found in Vienna with arms in our hands.
Rakoczy was about to reply when Stephen forestalled him, which I regretted, as my brother was not remarkable for the calmness of his language.
"Before answering that question," he said hotly, "we have a right to know by whose authority three peaceable travellers have been arrested like criminals, and deprived of their liberty."
Several of the officers uttered angry exclamations, but the prince smiled good-naturedly.
"There is some difference between peaceful travellers and armed rebels," said he; "and you are suspected of being the latter."
"It is false!" retorted my brother flatly.
"Appearances are against you. You were seen at the bridge of Tabor, and at least one of you is supposed to have joined in the disgraceful murder of the noble Count Latour."
"Hungarians are not assassins," said Stephen coldly.
"The friends of Count Lamberg speak differently," interrupted one of the officers with a bitter sneer.
"You are ungenerous, sir, to taunt the Hungarian nation with the crime of a handful of ragamuffins," I said.
"Yes, yes," exclaimed the prince; "but that is not the point. Can you deny the charges made against you?"
Stephen glanced round him indifferently; he would not deign to answer, and I followed his example.
Rakoczy, however, still smiling and confident, spoke for all.
"You have asked a question, prince," he said, "and you shall have a reply, though it may not be to the liking of some of these gentlemen. We were all three present at the attack on the bridge, and when your general fell, I by main force prevented my friend Stephen Botskay from throwing himself single-handed against the rebels. As to the murder of Count Latour, George Botskay risked his life time and again to save him, not from Hungarians, but from Austrians. Do you see this wound?" and he bared his arm. "That was done by an Austrian pike. Would you know why that gallant lad's head is swathed in bandages? Ask your fellow-countrymen, prince. The answer will show you that not Hungary alone harbours assassins."
"Talk is cheap," sneered the officer who had spoken before. "Why, that very fellow was at the first barricade in the Prater!"
"Is that so?" asked the prince.
"Yes," said Rakoczy simply; "I was there."
"Which many a poor fellow had reason to be thankful for," I interrupted. "More than one man in your ranks to-day owes his life to John Rakoczy's bravery."
"At this rate, your highness, it will soon appear that the town was captured by these heroes," chuckled a grizzled veteran.
I concluded that the speaker was of high rank, as every one laughed at his remark, as if he had said something witty.
They were still enjoying the joke when the door opened and another officer entered the room.
He was a man past the prime of life, with grey hair and white moustaches, but alert, strong, and vigorous. His sight was keen, his bearing martial, and the deep scars of two wounds long since healed bore witness to his courage as a soldier.
His entrance attracted notice, and the prince himself stepped forward to greet him.
The others withdrew a little way, leaving the two chiefs together, and they immediately began talking very earnestly. From time to time they both looked at us, and gradually a pleasant smile spread over the prince's face.
At length the conversation was finished, and the prince, turning to his staff, said,--
"Gentlemen, we owe these brave Hungarians an apology for our suspicions. Instead of aiding the rebels, they have acted in a very noble manner, and to them Baron von Arnstein is indebted for the lives of his wife and daughter.--Baron, these gentlemen are no longer our prisoners; I wish they could be counted amongst our friends."
"That would follow naturally," said Rakoczy, "if every Austrian were a Prince Windischgratz."
"I cannot accept the compliment; it would be unfair to my brave colleagues," the general replied. "However, I can thank you all three for your generous behaviour, which I do most heartily."
We replied in the same spirit, and, accompanied by Baron von Arnstein, left the room.
That nobleman could with difficulty restrain his emotion; he thanked us twenty times while crossing the barrack square, and urged us repeatedly to return home with him. I should have liked this famously; but Stephen was anxious to leave the city, and I did not wish to thwart him.
Accordingly, after our weapons were restored, it was agreed that the baron should conduct us through the Austrian lines. He had only heard of his daughter's rescue that morning, and, knowing there were three prisoners bearing the same names as those mentioned by his wife, had immediately hurried off to Prince Windischgratz.
"I do not ask where you are going," he said, as we passed through the city gate into the ruined suburb, "but I could wish that your steps pointed westward rather than to the east."
"Perhaps it will be as well not to tell you," replied Rakoczy with a smile; "but if ever you need a friend in the Hungarian army, let one of us know."
"It is a terrible business, but we at least must not quarrel. Still, I cannot understand why you and gallant lads like these should be so eager to fight for a republic. I should have thought you were royalists to the backbone."
"So we are," said Stephen promptly. "Royalists and loyalists too, if the emperor will but grant our rights."
"What do you think, then, would happen, if by any means the war should end in your favour?"
"We should force the emperor to restore our constitution, and then return to our allegiance."
"Shake hands all round," said Rakoczy genially.
The baron shook his head.
"Pardon me," he said; "but I am getting an old man, and years bring experience. You deceive yourselves, or rather, have had dust thrown in your eyes. Kossuth and his friends are not fighting for a restored constitution, but to make Hungary a republic. Victory on your side will mean an exchange of Ferdinand the king for Kossuth the dictator."
"Then," exclaimed Stephen sternly, "defeat will be more welcome than victory, for, if what you say be true, the land will swim in blood. Here are three royalists whose forefathers drew the sword for Maria Theresa, and there are scores of thousands like us."
"You will hear our armies join battle to the cry of 'Long live Hungary and King Ferdinand!'" said Rakoczy. "We don't want a republic."
This talk of the baron's, so like what we had before heard, set us thinking, and it was in rather a sad humour that we crossed the Austrian or rather imperialist camp.
The baron saw us in safety to the farthest outpost, where we stopped to wish him farewell.
"Good-bye," he said kindly. "I cannot pretend to hope your armies will prove successful, but from my heart I wish you personally good-luck in your venture. Our people will do you no harm, except to make prisoners of you; but mind the Croats--they are rather bloodthirsty, and not over well disciplined."
We thanked him for his advice, sent back a friendly message to his wife and daughter, and then set out on our journey.
"A fine fellow," remarked Rakoczy, throwing a glance back. "I hope we shall never meet him in a charge."
CHAPTER VI
HARD WORK AT PESTH.
"Rakoczy! Not dead? Where did you spring from? Vienna? Been helping theprolétaires? No? Then you must have been plotting treason with the imperialists. But come into my tent. Who are your companions? I can see they are true Magyars. Sons of the late General Botskay?--Welcome, my lads! Your name alone would draw a welcome from any Magyar in the country."
A tall man, plainly dressed in the uniform of a major of Honveds, having a strong, wiry, but spare frame, his hair cut quite close to his head, sharp eyes--their light half hidden behind spectacles--his face hard and weather-beaten, with a reddish undergrowth of beard; such in appearance was Arthur Görgei, who was to become, without exception, the most famous general in Hungary.
From Vienna we had journeyed to Presburg, and thence to Raab, following the Hungarians, who were moving back on Comorn, and overtaking them at Raab.
Rakoczy, who had known Görgei in private life, immediately inquired for the general, and we were conducted to him.
"Haven't any refreshments to offer you," he continued, when we were inside the tent; "but never mind--somebody has."
He went to the opening, and we heard him say,--
"Here, Sturitz! Borrow me a bottle of wine or two, and some glasses.--So, old fellow, you've been watching the fight? Didn't you long to join in? How did the good citizens like to see our retreat from Schwechat?"
"Not at all. They were dumfounded. They couldn't believe it possible that the Hungarians were running away."
The general clapped the speaker on the back, and laughed with the most frank good-humour.
"Run!" he exclaimed; "that word tells nothing! They rushed headlong over one another; they threw away what weapons they had and vanished. Moza was in chief command, and he sent me with a brigade to attack Schwechat. We were a mile and a half from our supports. Windischgratz sent his horse-artillery at us, and, heigh, presto! the brigade was gone. Out of nearly five thousand I saw only one man, and he was an old soldier on the sick list."
"But what did the other brigades do?"
Görgei pushed up his spectacles and looked at us with a twinkle.
"The other brigades? The supports?" he said. "Oh, they took to their heels before my fellows did; but they'll all make capital soldiers after a few months' drill. Here comes Sturitz with the wine, and we'll drink their healths."
"Capital chap, this Sturitz, to send borrowing," remarked Rakoczy, sipping his wine. "He brings good stuff."
"And, better still, forgets where it came from, so that he can never repay it. So, my lads, you've come to join the army? Well, there's one thing; your father's sons will never show the men how to run away."
"One moment, general," said Stephen. "Can you tell me what we're supposed to be fighting for?"
Görgei looked from my brother to Rakoczy, who said,--
"In truth, general, things seem a little bit mixed. Over in Vienna they talk as if we wanted to set up a republic."
"A republic?" cried Görgei. "What stuff! Haven't they read history? Don't they know that Hungary is royalist to the core? Why, if the king came to this camp, the men would carry him shoulder high from one end of it to the other. Why, at Schwechat they ran away to the cry of 'Long live King Ferdinand!'"
"That ought to be proof enough," replied Rakoczy, laughing, "and I'm glad to hear it; because, like these lads, I've no idea of spilling my blood in order to make Kossuth dictator."
"You're going to fight, my dear fellow, and not bother your head about politics. First, though, there's a lot of work to be done. We want ammunition and stores of all sorts, and, as much as anything, we want soldiers; we've plenty of men."
"You aren't going to turn me into a drill-sergeant?"
"I am though. 'Right! Left! Keep your heads up there! Close up on the right!' That will be your work for the next week or two, while I dodge about here, and make Windischgratz believe we're burning to fight."
"Where am I to go?"
"Pesth, with the rank of major. Tedious work you'll find it, and no glory either; but you'll do more good there than marching and counter-marching with me. Now, as to these lads. Which is it to be--a showy uniform or downright hard grinding?"
"Take them on your staff," suggested Rakoczy. "They'll get both then."
"Haven't room for more than one."
"Let that be Stephen," I exclaimed promptly.
"Take George. He is the better horseman," said my brother.
"Toss for it!" cried the general, taking a coin from his pocket; "but don't stick to this bit of silver. I keep it as a curiosity; it's almost the only one in the country."
The spin of the coin decided in favour of Stephen, and it was accordingly settled that he should remain with the army, while I went to Pesth as a lieutenant of Honveds.
We had drunk another glass of wine to the success of the coming campaign; and Görgei, having made out the necessary papers, gave Sturitz orders to furnish us with horses.
Then, with kindly thought, the general took Rakoczy outside, leaving me to wish my brother farewell.
It was the first time in our lives we had been called on to separate, and the parting was a sad one to both of us; but we made a fine show of good spirits, and talked confidently of seeing each other again in a few weeks.
"There's Sturitz with the animals," said Stephen, as the clatter of horses' hoofs sounded outside the tent. "Well, good-bye, dear old fellow."
"Don't be too venturesome," I replied, and returning the pressure of his hand, followed him to where the general stood with Rakoczy.
"Here you are, George," cried the latter gaily. "Thanks to the chief, we start the war on horseback, however we may finish."
"Remember," said the general, "drill, drill, drill, and plenty of rifle practice."
"We'll bear it in mind, general, and teach the fellows how to hit a windmill at least.--Now, George, up you get," and he swung himself into his own saddle with the ease of a practised rider.
Glancing back, I saw Stephen waving his cap, and Görgei with his hands behind his back and his head bent forward, already plunged in deep thought.
The weather was bitterly cold, and the roads were abominable; but we rode thoroughbred Magyar horses, which carried us at a rattling pace.
I was, in truth, rather miserable at leaving my brother; but the crisp, keen air, the sharp gallop, and the merry spirits of my companion soon chased away my melancholy.
"Wonderful man, Görgei," he said, when the horses, having settled down to a slower pace, made talking possible. "Kossuth did one good thing in giving him a high command. Hard as iron, and a born soldier."
"Has he ever seen service?"
"Only for a short time as a lieutenant in the bodyguard. But he has a spirit which nothing can break, an energy that never tires; and he can endure as much fatigue as any man in the country. I knew him and his brothers when they were youngsters; in fact, we were boys together. They were in good circumstances, but their mother brought them up to live hard. They learned early to take the rough with the smooth, and to laugh at hardships. They never felt the cold in the bitterest winter, and when the rain soaked them through, why, they just got dry again."
"Where are the others?"
"Don't know; but wherever the hardest work's to be done, you may be sure. Stephen will find his job tougher than ours."
"It will please him the more. By the way, I wonder if Count Beula escaped from Vienna?"
"Most likely. Bern did. Görgei told me they smuggled the Pole out, shut up in a coffin. That's how the story runs, whether true or not; but, at any rate, Bern's in Transylvania with 25,000 good fighting men."
"It's very good of the Poles to help us, but I'd rather see a Hungarian army led by a Magyar chief."
"So would I. Still, we ought not to grumble with the bridge that carries us over the stream."
Sound advice, no doubt, though it scarcely satisfied me, and I was to think a good deal more about it before the campaign finished.
The journey to Pesth passed without incident, as we were amidst friends; and the morning after our arrival in the city we began our new duties.
As the general had stated, there were numbers of men willing and eager to join the army, but they were without weapons, except hay-forks and such like implements, and had not the faintest notion of military drill.
However, they were enthusiastic, and if not patient, at least tractable; so their instructors hoped to make something of them before long.
The drill-ground was the great plain or field of Rakos, behind the city, which in olden days was the meeting-place of the Diet, when our Magyar forefathers, attended by their vassals, assembled to discuss the affairs of the nation.
Once again the place was filled with men who had come together in thousands--ploughmen, carters, shepherds, miners--not to talk, but to learn how to fight the enemies of their country.
To a military veteran the spectacle must have afforded ample food for fun and amusement. Rakoczy laughed without stint.
Thousands of men, grouped in small detachments, were going through the elementary steps--men drawn from all parts of the kingdom, and dressed in every conceivable style, but for the most part true Magyars.
Here a peasant, in loose black linen shirt, black trousers, embroidered waistcoat, and gay-coloured jacket, wearing gaiter boots and a large-brimmed Spanish-looking hat, jostled a neighbour in a sheepskin coat, with a hat made of rushes, and huge sandals on his feet.
Here one saw a group of hardy fellows arrayed in embroidered petticoats and kalpags--the national caps, made of fur and adorned with feathers; there, men from the south with broad felt hats, leather girdles, gatya or full white linen trousers, and shirts that scarcely reached to the waist.
In one respect, however, they were all alike--they were dreadfully in earnest and bent on learning their new trade.
It was early morning when we went out to the Rakos; the sun had set when we returned to the city.
All day long we had been hard at work drilling one squad after another, till our limbs ached and our throats were parched as the crater of a volcano.
Rakoczy soon threw off the feeling of fatigue, and after dinner strolled with others of the officers into the town; but I was thoroughly tired, and slipped off to bed.
Certainly Görgei spoke truth when he described the work as tedious and without glory; but it had to be done nevertheless, and for several weeks the unceasing toil continued.
There was little variety in our lives just at that time. We went out in the morning, drilled the recruits all day, and returned at night tired as dogs.
Early in December we learned that the emperor had abdicated in favour of the young archduke, Francis Joseph, that Prince Windischgratz was almost ready to march, and that Jellachich had already started.
Though hearing nothing of Stephen, I did not feel uneasy, as thus far Görgei had only made a show of fighting to delay the enemy's advance while we were shaping an army.
From the second week in December every day brought a rumour of some sort, which we had more leisure to talk over, as the darkness made late drill impossible.
Rakoczy and I spent Christmas Day in marching with a batch of passed recruits to a small village situated several miles from the city, where a body of troops had been stationed.
The weather was simply detestable. First it rained in torrents, then it snowed, and the snow froze before reaching the ground, and, but for the bundas or overmantles in which we were wrapped, we should have perished on the march.
To add to the charm of the situation, the guide mistook the route, and we wandered about for several hours, stiff with cold and hollow from hunger.
When we did reach the village, the welcome from the troops made us forget the discomforts of the journey; and as our duties ended in handing over the fresh soldiers to the commandant, we spent the evening very agreeably with the officers.
The next morning, before starting for Pesth, we learned that Görgei, having abandoned Raab, was falling back on the capital, and that General Perczel was being hard pressed by the Croats under Jellachich.
Two or three days later the news came of Perczel's defeat at Moor, and a message from Comorn announced that Windischgratz had summoned the fortress.
Görgei was now manoeuvring to join the remnants of Perczel's army, in which he afterwards succeeded; but the news of these disasters caused great consternation in Pesth, and the members of the Diet determined to remove the seat of government to Debreczin.
On the last day of the year 1848, crowds of old men, women, and children left the city, and my heart ached, as I watched them toil painfully onwards, to think of the terrible march that lay before them.
However, as the man in Vienna had said, rose-water and kid gloves go ill with revolutions; but I wished it was possible to lift the burden from the shoulders of those so ill fitted to bear it.
That same night a grand reception was held in the palace of Count Szondi, and as invitations had been sent to all the officers still in the city, Rakoczy and I went.
I have often thought since of that magnificent spectacle. The brilliant uniforms of the soldiers, the sparkling eyes of the beautiful Magyar ladies, who were all dressed in the national costume, the ruby velvet dolmans of the wealthy citizens, the gorgeous dresses of the nobles, the brilliant lights from burnished chandeliers, the handsome furniture, the rugs of ermine and sable, the masterpieces of famous Hungarian artists hanging on the walls in heavily-gilded frames, the incessant sparkle and play of diamonds as the guests glided hither and thither, presented a scene that one does not easily forget.
Hitherto my time had been so fully occupied that I had not been able to seek out old friends, and now most of them had departed; but here and there I saw a familiar face and heard a voice that recalled to me the joys of bygone days.
Chief amongst the guests, and surrounded by a group of distinguished men and beautiful women, stood a remarkably handsome man, above the average height, straight, and of a fine athletic build.
His black, curly hair hung over his shoulders, his well-trimmed beard covered his breast. The manly expression of his face and the fiery glow in his eyes formed a true index to his bold, headstrong, and enthusiastic nature. He looked fit to be, as he was, the leader of the Magyar nobles who had taken up arms against the Austrian oppression.
This was Count Louis Batthiany before the evil days, alas! so soon to come, fell upon him.
Towards midnight there arose a great stir in the crowded assembly, a movement of feet, a craning of necks, a low hum which quickly swelled in volume; and turning round I saw that another distinguished visitor had entered the room.
Watching his almost royal progress through the brilliant throng, I thought of the words spoken by Baron von Arnstein, and looked on coldly.
But though, unlike the majority of my fellow-countrymen, I had early been prejudiced against Louis Kossuth, I have no wish to deny his marvellous and almost superhuman gifts.
A true Hungarian, he loved his country with fond affection; but his views were not mine, and even in those days I thought him wrong.
A man of medium height and wiry frame, he passed through the crowded room with dignified carriage and grace of movement. The paleness of his oval face was very striking, and his high, open forehead betokened keen intelligence. His eyes were blue, and though naturally dreamy, they often flashed fire; his eyebrows were dark and thick; and over his chestnut hair he wore a wig. He had a small, well-formed mouth, fine teeth, firm, round chin, and delicate white hands with tapering fingers like those of an artist.
He wore a plain Honved uniform, over which was thrown a grey mantle.
The count stepped forward to meet him, and the two talked together earnestly, but in low tones.
"Kossuth is a great man!" exclaimed a portly civilian standing near us.
"True, friend!" replied Rakoczy, with his ever-ready smile, "but Hungary has no lack of great men; they grow as thick as robinias in the gardens."
"Kossuth is a splendid talker."
"Right again, friend," said my companion dryly. "His eloquence has created the raw material which Görgei will fashion into an army. Some talk, some fight; let each man stick to his trade."
"I hope," said the citizen mildly, after a glance at our Honved uniforms, "that Görgei will be able to make something of you."
Rakoczy laughed so heartily that several people turned to discover the reason of his mirth, and we thought it best to move away from the mild-mannered but caustic civilian.
Soon after this Kossuth left, taking Batthiany with him, and the rest of us moved into the large banqueting-hall, where refreshments had been laid.
At the last stroke of midnight Count Szondi rose, and a great hush fell on the brilliant assembly as the old noble with his venerable white locks faced us.
"Magyars!" he said, and the veteran's voice was firm and clear as a bell, "the year is dead; we do not mourn it. The new year is born, and with it a glorious future for Hungary. The Magyar is in arms; let those beware who seek to thwart him. Magyars, let us drink to the prosperity of the sacred fatherland."
The words were few and simple--the speaker was no orator; yet, as he raised the brimming glass to his lips, a fit of wild enthusiasm seized every man and woman in that spacious hall.
The men cheered again and again till their voices were hoarse; the women joined in the plaudits, their eyes sparkling, their cheeks aflame with excitement. Handkerchiefs fluttered and ribbons waved in the air; the scene became indescribable.
An officer said something, I know not what, but the next moment Rakoczy was at the farther end of the room, mounted on a chair.
The sight of his handsome face arrested attention; the hubbub gradually died away. Profound silence followed. The people, thinking he was about to speak, listened eagerly.
I have mentioned that Rakoczy had a magnificent voice, but until that night I had not even dreamed of its power.
The lights, the wine, the beautiful faces of the Magyar ladies, the martial aspect of the men, the stirring excitement of the time, the dangers surrounding our beloved country, the knowledge that thousands of our comrades were in arms against the foe, all helped to enhance the effect, but much was due to Rakoczy himself.
We stood, I repeat, motionless as statues, gazing at him, when suddenly there issued from his throat, echoing and re-echoing through the hall, the first notes of the National Hymn.
We held our breath; tears were in the eyes of some; half-choking sobs came from the throats of others; bosoms heaved and cheeks burned like fire; men, unable to restrain their emotions, clinched their hands till the finger nails dug into the palms.
Loud and clear the martial notes rang out. They spoke to our hearts; they called us to battle, to death if need be, in defence of our fatherland.
We hung upon them breathlessly. Our hands unconsciously gripped the hilts of our swords. The hot blood tore through our veins. We heard nothing, were conscious of nothing, but the glorious Magyar hymn whose notes throbbed in every fibre of our bodies.
The first verse was finished, and as Rakoczy began the second every voice joined in. The restrained excitement had burst its bonds like the Danube in flood. It could no longer be held back; it was bound to find a vent, and it found it in song.
I know little of music, but grander music was never heard than that in the banqueting-hall of Count Szondi when the year 1849 was born.
As the last notes died away, the cheering was frantically renewed. Women sobbed openly, and there were few men iron-nerved enough to hide their emotion.
Then, with a ringing "Elijen Szondi!" in honour of our host, we broke up and passed singly or in groups into the street.
The night was dark and dreary, snow lay thick on the ground, a storm of frozen sleet hurled itself into our faces, and the bitter cold made us shiver beneath our fur-lined mantles.
"A wonderful contrast this," I exclaimed, setting off with "The Joyous" and several other officers for the barracks.
"As great as that between Hungary united and Hungary divided against itself," replied one of them.
"Or as that between Batthiany and Kossuth," suggested Rakoczy, after which we lapsed into silence.