_AN AUSTRO-HUNGARIAN ALLIANCE._
"The Joyous" was certainly not acting up to his reputation.
We had just adjourned to the drawing-room after supper, and were sipping
our coffee.
The light from the central lamp fell on Baron von Arnstein's ring and
miniature.
"Von Theyer was wearing them, poor fellow!" exclaimed Rakoczy gloomily.
"See! there is a bloodstain on the miniature!"
"Poor fellow, indeed!" cried Dobozy. "I've no patience with you. He is
as much to be regretted as a vicious old tusker! Besides, after such a
knock-down blow, you were bound to fight."
"The general opinion; though Schlick thought that, as the emperor's
special messenger, I acted rightly."
"At all events, you saved my life, John," I interrupted.
"And now," Dobozy answered merrily, "he regrets it!"
"No, no!" cried John. "I would kill a hundred Von Theyers if they
threatened George's safety. Still, this hussar was a splendid soldier,
and brave as a lion."
"He was the finest cavalry leader in the Austrian service," I said.
"And tried his very hardest to get you hanged," laughed Dobozy.
"That's so!" exclaimed Rakoczy. "Still, I would rather have slain him
on the battlefield than in a duel."
"While he preferred that Botskay should hang," observed Dobozy.
In my dazed state at Arad I had not thought of the consequences which
must follow Rakoczy's blow, but he and Dobozy knew the Austrian would be
satisfied with nothing less than a duel to the death.
Indeed, my carriage had barely departed when several officers galloped
up with demands for the most abject apology, unless my friend wished to
receive challenges from all the officers of the regiment in succession.
To this Rakoczy replied good-humouredly that he had no quarrel with any
one save their colonel, whom he would fight, and referred them to Dobozy
as his friend.
A duel was accordingly arranged, in which Von Theyer fell, whereupon
General Schlick forbade the officers of the regiment from carrying the
matter farther.
All this had been talked over after supper, but the sight of the ring
and miniature brought up the subject afresh.
At last, however, Rakoczy, shaking off his depression, settled down to
explain how my pardon was obtained from the emperor.
"In the first place," he began, "everything is owing to Mecsey Sandor,
who is the best and trustiest of servants."
Dobozy caused an interruption here by his emphatic approval of the
remark.
"Seeing you in the hands of Von Theyer," Rakoczy continued, "he at once
scented mischief, and returned to Gros-Wardein. There he hung about
till I was set free, when he told me what had happened. Now, it struck
me that unless the Austrian had a strong case, you would not have lived
to reach the fortress. I scarcely knew how to act. Goergei was in
prison, though pardoned, and I had no influence with the Austrian
leaders. Here, again, Mecsey Sandor came to the rescue. 'Does not my
master know some powerful ladies in Vienna?' he asked. That question
furnished me with a key to undo all the locks."
"Then 'twas the fraeulein who saved my life?" I cried.
"Or her mother," answered Rakoczy slyly. "But you are in a desperate
hurry to reach the end of the story, which isn't a compliment to the
teller."
"Go on!" I cried impatiently. "So you reached Vienna."
"But not in a second, my friend. The journey took time. However, I did
get there, and found the ladies in mourning for the baron. Poor little
Theresa was pale as a ghost, and her eyes were red with much weeping.
Really it seemed cruel, to burden them with fresh sorrow. But your life
was at stake, my boy, so I cast scruples to the winds and told them the
story. They only knew the baron was dead; and when I related how you
had nursed and afterwards buried him, even the baroness thawed and
called on God to bless you."
"And Theresa?"
"She only spoke with her eyes, and some day you may discover for
yourself what they said. To push on with the story, however--Dobozy's
positively yawning!--I told them how you had spoiled Von Theyer's
beauty, winding up with an account of your imprisonment and almost
certain execution, unless the emperor himself would interfere."
"And they agreed to petition him?"
"Yes. At first the baroness threw cold water on the scheme, saying it
could not succeed; but Theresa wept and prayed so earnestly that her
mother consented, and we all three set out immediately for the palace.
"By my advice Theresa sought an audience for herself only. Any woman in
distress has influence over a man; but when one's petitioner is young
and beautiful--well, there! You know more about these things than I
do."
"Then the emperor received her?"
"Or you would not be here now. I intended to advise her what to say,
but, bless you, she had it all mapped out."
"Trust a woman, old or young, for that," remarked Dobozy.
"'There are four chief points,' she said to me. 'The attempt to save
Count Latour, which ought to count for much; his protection of my mother
and myself; his kindness to my father, who was a great favourite with
the young archduke before he ascended the throne; and his steady
opposition to the scheme of separation.'"
"And the last is not the least," said I, delighted to find she had
thought about it all.
"Well, we waited in the courtyard of the palace, the baroness seated in
her comfortable carriage, I on horseback. About sixty times an hour I
opened my watch--not the battered one--and wondered what was happening
in the audience-chamber. Every time a door opened or a servant of the
palace moved, my heart leaped to my mouth. The baroness, stately and
dignified, sat bolt upright, as if nothing under the sun could trouble
her, though I believe she felt keenly, nevertheless."
"These people," exclaimed Dobozy with an air of wisdom, "never obtrude
their feelings in public."
"A second hour passed," continued Rakoczy, "and half of the third, when
a door was opened, and Theresa, accompanied by a perfect escort of high
functionaries, made her appearance. The first glance assured me all was
right.
"She had been weeping--the tear-stains being still on her face--but her
eyes were bright and sparkling now, and she ran to my horse's head with
an _abandon_ that must have shocked her mother.
"'Ride, Herr Rakoczy!' she exclaimed. 'Do not waste a second! Here is
your friend's pardon, signed by the emperor's own hand. No, don't stop
to thank me. If--if--oh, it would be too terrible!' and without a
moment's warning she burst into tears.
"I was going to comfort her, but she dried her eyes, declared she was
stupid, and skipped off to the carriage.
"Then I doffed my hat to the ladies, wished them farewell, and galloped
off. Luckily for you--and others--I arrived at Arad just in time."
By his mention of _others_ I guessed there still remained something to
be cleared up. But first I wished to make sure about a little matter
which caused me some anxiety.
"How will Theresa learn that your journey ended successfully?" I asked.
"From the palace, no doubt. However, I took the liberty of sending a
trusty messenger with a letter in which I stated that, as soon as you
were strong enough, you would pay your thanks in person."
"Which I most certainly will do. Now tell me, please, whom you meant by
the _others_."
"That's Dobozy's yarn, not mine."
"Or rather Mecsey's."
"And it had something to do with a public rescue?"
Dobozy laughed.
"About the maddest idea that ever occurred to any man outside the walls
of a lunatic asylum. I never spent such a bad half-hour in my life.
But for the colonel's arrival, I really can't say what would have
happened. Mecsey was in deadly earnest, and he had so worked on the men
of your old regiment that they were ready for anything."
"But the plan?" I exclaimed. "There must have been at least some
glimmering of a plan?"
"Well, you see, this servant of yours believes in having two strings to
his bow. According to him, the colonel's mission might or might not
prove a success; so it was as well not to depend on it altogether.
People say one fool makes many, and it was certainly so in this case.
Learning that the 9th Honveds were to be dismissed, Mecsey pounced on
the men, and wheedled them into promising their help. Then he came to
me, explained what was going on, and asked me to lead. I pointed out
the wickedness and folly of the scheme, but Mecsey was far superior to
arguments. With a proper leader, he said, the men would win; without
one they would fail; and if I wanted the thing to be wrecked, of course
I wouldn't join. Well, to cut a long story short, I agreed. We got
together all the weapons we could--long knives and axes mostly, though
some of us had pistols--and waited.
"Mecsey was just urging me to give the signal for a rush at the
platform, when some one in the secret sighted the colonel, and we knew
it was all right."
"What an awful thing it would have been!" I exclaimed with a shudder.
"Well," said Dobozy, "the colonel saved the situation by about two
minutes. I really believe though that Mecsey was a bit disappointed.
He had a swift horse in waiting, and all we had to do was to rush the
platform, knock over the soldiers, and carry you off before the
Austrians were aware of what was taking place. Mecsey would have made a
great general."
"Now, George," exclaimed Rakoczy, when he had finished laughing at the
idea of General Mecsey Sandor, "remember we haven't heard yet how you
came to fall into the hands of the Austrians. It was rumoured in camp,
before the surrender, that you were killed at Debreczin."
"Rumour would probably have proved true, but for the inestimable
Mecsey," I replied. "He turned up as usual in the right place at the
right moment, nursed me in the house of a good Samaritan, and journeyed
with me to Vilagos. There we parted, as I expect he's told you."
"Yes; and the reason," said Rakoczy warmly.
"Well, instead of helping you out of a scrape, I got into one," and I
related my adventures while with the band of robbers.
Both my listeners expressed astonishment at the conduct of Count Beula,
and Dobozy frankly praised the bandit-chief for having hanged him.
"Yet he bore himself like a thorough soldier in the field," said
Rakoczy, who rarely looked at the dark spots, even in the sun. "You may
depend his nerves were overstrung. As to this Batori Gabor, I knew him
well years ago. He belongs to a good family, but he fell foul of the
Austrian police over some political matters, and took to the plains. I
understand he did the enemy no end of damage during the war."
"He must be a daring fellow," exclaimed Dobozy with enthusiasm. "That
was a bold venture, to creep into the kitchen amongst all those
hussars."
"Almost as bold as Mecsey," I answered with a laugh; "but it is perhaps
as well neither of them succeeded."
"Better," said Rakoczy, "as success in either case would have made you
an outlaw; whereas you are now a free man."
"With liberty to visit Vienna whenever you like," laughed Dobozy; "but
isn't it almost bed-time?"
Here, practically, my adventures with the red, white, and green flag
come to an end. From that night in my old home with Dobozy and "John
the Joyous" I date the beginning of a new life.
Gratitude, of course, and my promise to the dying baron took me to
Vienna, where my reception encouraged me to pay several further visits,
and in process of time my old friend's forecast was fulfilled. Theresa
became my wife after her mother's death, and now there is no keener
Magyar in all Hungary than Madame Botskay.
Every year we spend a couple of months in beautiful Pesth, and generally
another month with the paralyzed Count Arnim and his wife, with both of
whom Theresa is a great favourite, as indeed she is with most people.
The redoubtable Mecsey Sandor, who makes as faithful a steward as a
soldier-servant, fairly worships her; and this is the more wonderful,
because the honest fellow heartily detests the whole German race.
Mecsey is perfectly happy and comfortable, and spends his leisure time
in describing over and over again the stirring events of the great
campaign.
Occasionally Arthur Goergei--now a poor man living in retirement--comes
to see us, and I need hardly say that no one save "John the Joyous"
himself is ever more heartily welcomed.
Some men--but none on my estates--call him a traitor, and assert that he
sold our country to the Russians. If Goergei betrayed his country, we
of his army were accomplices in his treachery, and this is the proof.
We marched hundreds of miles, often bare-footed, over rough and stony
ground; we half froze in the winter's cold, and fainted beneath the
scorching heat of summer; for weeks together we lived on a scanty ration
of black bread and water; we stormed fortresses and fought terrible
battles when the odds were all against us; and the man whose spirit,
courage, and leadership made these things possible was Arthur Goergei.
If such deeds as these were acts of treachery, then indeed were we all
traitors, and our leader was far and away the greatest.
But the men who spoke thus wildly applauded Louis Kossuth as the most
glorious patriot in history, and Kossuth was a fugitive in the land of
the Turks!
It is the usual rule that the losers should be called on to pay for the
game, and our opponents adhered to it closely.
With the exception of Goergei and Klapka, our chiefs were seized by the
Austrians, and, after a mock trial, sentenced to death. Aulich,
Damjanics, Nagy Sandor, with ten others, all perished on one day; while
at Pesth the high-spirited Batthiany, the true leader of the national
party, was shot in the presence of several thousands of his sorrowing
countrymen.
Hungary indeed lay crushed under the heel of her Russian and Austrian
conquerors, but since that day many events have happened. Our liberties
have been restored, and now our country takes its rightful place as the
ally and not the vassal of the haughty Hapsburg dominion.
A quarter of a century later, when my own boys, Stephen and John, were
springing into early manhood, we all journeyed to Pesth to see the
Emperor Francis Josef crowned King of Hungary.
"John the Joyous" was with us, and though his hair was sprinkled with
white streaks, his heart had never felt lighter.
The boys were chiefly occupied in gazing at the gorgeous spectacle--the
ermine-trimmed velvet cloaks of the councillors, the flashing mail of
the nobles, the sparkling diamonds and precious stones, the magnificent
horses, the robes and mitres of the officiating priests.
To them it was a splendid procession; to us it was the fruition of hopes
long deferred.
We thought of Goergei, of my brother Stephen, and of all the gallant men
who had laid down their lives for the cause, and I think it was
something more than the sun's rays which brought the water to our eyes.
And when the Austrian Emperor, robed in the embroidered mantle of St.
Stephen, and crowned with the sacred crown, swore as King of Hungary to
guard her rights and liberties against all foes, our hearts were full.
We felt that in the years long past our loyalty to the red, white, and
green flag had not been altogether in vain.
THE END.