Chapter 11. The First Spark

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_ CHAPTER XI. THE FIRST SPARK

Maria Kamienszka talked for the whole of a long hour with the General's wife.

She told her all she knew of that unhappy family, whose fate was bound up with the General's by such tragic memories.

She had learnt to know the disowned and rejected son as a gallant young officer in Galicia, and the relations which had sprung up between them were the tenderest imaginable.

The calamity which compelled the youth to fly had profoundly affected but not overwhelmed her, for Maria, with that virile determination which has so frequently distinguished the Polish women, had followed up the track of the vanished youth step by step, and when, at last, she had discovered him, she had devoted all the ingenuity of a loving heart to the desperate task of saving him.

The enthusiastic words of the girl had electrified Cornelia Vértessy; indeed, she, the gentler, calmer of the two, was quite carried away by Maria's courage, energy, readiness of resource and impulsive enthusiasm, so that she considered the most fantastic projects which the Polish lady elaborated on the spur of the moment with the rapidity of cloud formation, as perfectly natural and feasible.

They agreed between them that old Hétfalusy and his son-in-law should be brought together to the General's, that Cornelia, at the same time, should present to them the child who was believed to have perished, Maria undertaking to get it from its adopted father. They argued that the scene which would ensue, when the father and grandfather recognised the child they so ardently longed to see could not fail to touch the heart of the General, who at the same instant, when the grandfather recovered his grandchild, would complete the old man's joy by presenting him with his son also.

The dear conspirators had calculated all contingencies, and the whole thing seemed to them as feasible as it was romantic, and therefore bound to succeed ... but they forgot that Fate was, after all, mine host, and that the reckoning was in mine host's own hands and not in theirs.

Nevertheless, Maria, dressed in her masculine attire, which best suited her present purpose, mounted her nag again, and hastened off towards Hétfalu. On her way she posted a letter in which she instructed old Hétfalusy to get into his carriage and hasten to town as soon as possible, she herself meant to go straight to the headsman's dwelling.

It was already late when she turned into the main-road. The sun had already sunk, and there was in the sky that red glare, so trying to the eyes, which envelops every object in a yellow light and obliterates every shadow. In the western sky blood-red rays, like the spokes of a wheel, cut up the oddly-coloured sky into segments; while in the opposite, eastern firmament, solar rays of a similar description rose brown and lofty, like the horns of the crown of an avenging angel.

There was a sombre air of homelessness about the whole region. Not a bird was flying in the air, no cattle were grazing in the fields, even the merry chirp of the crickets was no longer to be heard in the wayside ditches. The road itself was overgrown with grass on both sides, scarce leaving room for a little winding ribbon of a track in the centre, and even there the ruts, which the last luckless cart had left behind it, were hidden by weeds. It was weeks since anybody had passed that way, for every village was afraid of the village next to it, every man avoided his neighbour, and feared to look upon his face.

The lanes and byeways had been quite abandoned, they were only distinguishable by the luxuriant crop of weeds which covered them--weeds more rampant and of darker colour than were to be found elsewhere. The whole land looked just as it used to look in the olden times after a Tartar invasion.

The horse trotted along all alone, before and behind him there was no trace either of man or beast, the rider looked round about her with a melancholy eye.

Here and there on both sides of the road crooked trees were tottering to their fall. They had been stripped bare by the devastating army of caterpillars, and instead of their beautiful green leaves they were clothed with the rags of dusty spider-webs; further away the fruitless orchards looked as if they had been burnt with fire, and, stretching to the horizon, as far as the eye could reach, the arid corn-fields had the appearance of being covered with nothing but scrappy stubble.

The atmosphere was oppressive and lay like a stifling weight on the breast of man; and if, now and then, a faint breath of air flitted languidly over the country, it was as burning hot as if it had just come out of the mouth of a blast-furnace, and only increased the exhausting sensation of oppression.

Then slowly, very slowly, it began to grow dark. There was a long black stripe all along the edge of the sky, which gradually bulged out into a sort of black veil, and as the infrequent stars twinkled forth in the pallid sky, this dark veil blotted them out one by one; it was just as if some mighty spirit-hand had drawn a crape curtain across a funeral vault bright with glittering lamps.

It was already midnight when Maria Kamienszka perceived the first roadside _csárda_[10] which, according to her calculations, lay midway between the county-town and Hétfala. In the midnight gloom and silence it was easier to distinguish distant sounds than to clearly recognise near objects.

[Footnote 10: Inn.]

It seemed to Maria as if she heard a medley of despairing yells and savage maledictions, and dimly discernible masses of men were moving up and down all round the house.

Instinctively she felt for the pistols in her saddle bow--there they were in their proper place.

In a few moments she was close up to the house and perceived clearly at last, with a tremor of horror, the spectacle that had long been engaging her attention.

Some hundreds of peasants, the dregs of the agricultural population, were swarming in and out of the _csárda_ door, savagely singing and shouting. Two large casks had been planted in front of the house, their bottoms had been stoved in, and those of the mob who had got near enough were ladling out the brandy they contained in their hats. Some of these gentlemen could only keep their legs at all by leaning upon the object nearest to them. A white-bearded Jew had been tied to the leg of a chair placed between the two casks. The drunken mob was bestowing most of its attention upon him, and pulling out his beard hair by hair as they cross-examined him. The tortured victim was howling horribly, but would give his tormentors no answer, only from time to time he implored them to spare his innocent daughter. A childish shape, evidently a woman's, was lying across the threshold, and everyone going in and out of the door gave it a kick as he passed through. Fortunately she felt nothing more now.

Maria, full of indignation, spurred her horse right into the midst of the mob that was tormenting the old innkeeper, and exclaimed in a voice of virile assurance:

"What are you all doing here?"

The mob only first perceived the horse when it was right amongst them.

A young lout with a stumpy nose, which had evidently been broken some time or other, a bare breast, and a shock of ragged hair covering his face, answered the question.

"We are paying off a poisoner, young sir, if you must know."

"What poisoner do you mean?" inquired Maria, who had not the remotest idea what the fellow was driving at.

"What!" cried the stripling defiantly, "do you mean to say you don't know? Why, haven't the gentry got the Jews to put poison in the brandy! Why, everyone knows that."

Maria was so dumfounded that she had not a word to say in reply.

"Look! how he pretends to know nothing about it. But we are up to them. They may weave their plans as artfully as they like, we've got eyes in our heads all the same. All is betrayed. Come, thou Jew! confess that there is poison in that cask!"

And yet they all went on drinking out of the barrel as if they had made up their minds to discover what poison really tasted like.

The lout of a spokesman now filled his hat with brandy up to the brim, and held it out towards Maria.

"Come, young sir," said he, "if you don't believe that there's poison in it, just taste for yourself and see."

Maria, full of loathing, pushed aside the dirty hat-full of nauseous fluid.

"You see! he won't drink it! he knows there is poison in it."

"Pull him off his horse!" cried a voice from the midst of the crowd.

"We ought to hang him up where the Hétfalusy squires are going to be hung!" roared the others.

The dirty lout, who had offered her brandy, quickly seized the horse's bridle, and several of the mob stretched out their hands towards Maria.

These savage menaces acted like a stimulant upon the Polish lady, she recovered her presence of mind instantly. She brought down the round knob of her riding-whip like lightning on the head of the fellow who was trying to hold her horse back, and he fell like a log prone to the ground. Then giving her good steed the spur she leaped clear of the encircling mob. A bludgeon came whizzing after her just above her head, and the belated sweeping strokes of a couple of scythes just missed her. One or two agile young ruffians even set off after her, and as two large waggons lay right across her path a little further on, they made sure of overtaking her there. But the lady, with a single bound, leaped over the obstacle, whereupon her pursuers remained behind, but as she turned her back upon them they sent after her a horrible yell of laughter. "That's right, go on!" she heard them cry, "you are going to a good place, where you'll be well looked after--ha, ha, ha!"

Maria had only proceeded a few hundred paces when she was thunderstruck to perceive that her horse was beginning to limp. More than once it stumbled heavily, and suddenly it went dead lame.

The good steed, when it leaped the obstruction, must assuredly have sprained its front leg.

Presently it could scarce put one foot before the other, and Maria was obliged to tighten the reins continually to relieve the poor beast and prevent it from stumbling as much as possible. It was as well that her pursuers had abandoned the chase, for she could scarce have hoped to escape from them now.

But what sort of disorderly mob could this be? Maria, now growing thoroughly alarmed, began to ask herself; a mob which had the audacity to indulge in such excesses in the midst of a civilised, constitutional state, in despite of all law and order? She had not the remotest idea that it was a widespread rebellion of the most horrible description.

Meanwhile, that black curtain had been drawn right across the sky, the whole region was in pitch-black darkness, one star after another had been blotted out, the horse hung its head and frequently whinnied. Maria felt that she could no longer remain safely in her saddle, fearing as she did that the horse might at any moment fall head foremost. So she dismounted, and letting the reins hang over her arm, led the horse along beside her.

It was hard to discern the grass-grown path in the darkness, and Maria immediately directed her footsteps towards a bright light in front of her a long way off, which seemed to proceed from the windows of some wayside house.

As she drew nearer to this house it seemed to her as if masses of men were flitting backwards and forwards, and the din of many voices struck upon her ear.

And now it suddenly dawned upon her why her pursuers had laughed so loudly when they saw her take refuge in this direction, here also the road was barred.

For an instant she stopped short. Feminine weakness for a moment took possession of her heart, and a shudder ran suddenly through her whole body; it was one of those instinctive feelings of panic which we cannot explain to ourselves. Where can I take refuge? she thought. Shall I forsake the road and venture amidst the strange woods beyond? Then she bethought her on what errand she had come, and she trembled no longer, but drew forth her pistols from her holsters, looked well to their priming, placed one under her arm, took the other in her hand, and tying the horse to a tree by the roadside (for, indeed, of what further use was he now?), resolutely directed her steps towards the noisy mob.

It was now so dark that it would have been easy to have avoided them altogether by making a short circuit, but that sort of perilous curiosity which often urges men to thrust themselves into the very situations from which they instinctively shrink, would not now permit her to turn from her purpose of penetrating those howling masses there and then.

Only when she was already in the midst of them did they become aware of her.

"Stop!" resounded on every side of her, and the point of a scythe pressed against the breast of the intruder.

In the moment of danger Maria recovered in an instant all her presence of mind.

"Give me room! two paces at the least!" she cried with a clarion-like voice. "A step nearer and I shoot! What do you want here?"

At the sight of the pistol the sordid mob drew back. If she had wished to proceed the path now lay clear and unobstructed before her.

But now she had changed her mind. This nocturnal spectacle had put it into her head that here was some evil plot afoot against the Hétfalusy family. She must find out what it was, and if possible defeat it. So she repeated her question:

"What are you doing here?"

At that moment the door of the wayside house opened, and out came Thomas Bodza with a lamp in his hand.

"Who is talking here?" he asked, peering all around him into the darkness.

Some timorous peasant lads behind the door pointed out to him the new arrival, at the same time calling his attention to the fact that the stranger had a pistol in his hand, and it was therefore not advisable to go near him.

The master, however, boldly advanced towards Maria, and held the lamp high above his head the better to read the intruder's face.

"What a fine head that young squire has," growled shaggy Hanák behind his back, "it would look very well on the point of my scythe."

"Hush!" said the master. "I want to speak to him! Who are you, sir, and what do you want?"

"That is what I don't mean to tell to the first blockhead I meet. First of all I should like to know who you are. If you are robbers I shall defend myself against you to the best of my ability; if you are fools I shall try to enlighten you; if you are brave and honest men I will shake hands with you."

The last idea only occurred to Maria when she caught sight of Bodza's face. She had encountered such enthusiasts before now, and had had opportunities of studying them.

Bodza's eyes sparkled.

"We are neither robbers, nor fools, but brave men in very deed, who are battling for one great brotherhood, from the icy sea to the warm sea."[11]

[Footnote 11: _I.e._, From the White Sea to the Black Sea; he meant the Slavs.]

Maria at once stuck her pistol into her breast-pocket and confidentially extended her hand to the master.

"Then I greet thee, my brother, I have just come from Russia."

Thomas Bodza squinted suspiciously at Maria, and holding the iron ring on his little finger right in front of her eyes, inquired:

"Dost thou then know the meaning of these three letters: U. S. S.?"

Maria answered with a smile:

"_Ud slovenske stridnosce._"[12]

[Footnote 12: "Member of the Slavonic League;" the language is Slovak.]

Then the master did indeed press the hand offered to him.

"Come inside!" said he, himself escorting the stranger, whilst the peasants, obsequiously raising their caps, made a way for them right up to the door.

The master dismissed everyone from the room, and when they two were alone asked excitedly in Russian:

"You come from Russia, you say? From what part of Russia?"

"From the eternal city where stand the golden gates of the Kremlin," answered Maria, also in the Russian tongue.

All Bodza's doubts instantly disappeared.

"What news in the Empire since the death of Romulus?"

Maria knew very well whom was meant by Romulus. It was none other than Muraviev, who was to be the builder of the walls of the new Rome, which was ere long to be the Lord of the whole earth.

Maria was no proselyte of this extravagant confederacy, but, living, as she did, nearer to the main source of it all, she was better able, with the assistance of current rumours and her own lively imagination, to amuse Thomas Bodza with more fables than he could have told her.

"Romulus is not dead, Romulus is still alive," whispered she to the interrogator mysteriously.

"How so?" asked Bodza, much surprised; "where is he then?"

"He has disappeared--like Romulus. The Gods have taken him!"--and Maria smiled enigmatically, as if she could reveal a great deal more if she only chose.

Bodza seized her hand violently.

"And in his own time he will appear again, eh?"

The only answer Maria gave was to press his hand significantly.

"Then it is true that they have not beheaded him?" continued the master excitedly, "and one of his good spiritual brethren sacrificed himself in his stead?"

"It was my own brother," said Maria, covering her eyes with her hands. Then she suddenly placed her hand on the master's shoulder. "Weep not for him!" she cried. "Look! _I_ do not weep, and yet he was my brother. Romulus still lives and demands sacrifice and obedience from us all."

The master pressed Maria's hand still more warmly.

"What is thy name, my beloved brother?"

"My name is Fabius Cunctator!" said Maria, well aware of the weakness of these visionaries for classical names.

"_My_ name is Numa Pompilius," said Bodza, tossing back his head with proud self-consciousness. "Numa Pompilius, ever true to the good cause, fervent in action, lucid in counsel, pitiless in execution, and fearless in peril."

And again they pressed each other's hands in a fiery masonic grip, and all the while Maria was thinking: how I long to seize the dry skinny throat of this fervent, pitiless, and fearless man while he is spouting his finest, and throttle him on the spot.

"So you have raised the standard of revolt, eh?" inquired Maria of the valiant Numa Pompilius, "who gave you the signal?"

"Heaven and Earth," replied the master. "Heaven which sends death down upon the people, and Earth which opens her mouth to receive their dead bodies. Never was there a better opportunity than now. The terrible destroying angel is going from house to house, and striding from village to village, bringing with him wherever he goes sorrow and terror. Men perceive that life is cheap and that it can't last long. Desperation has severed every bond between masters and servants, creditors and debtors, superiors and inferiors. It needs but one spark to ignite the whole mass. That spark has already been kindled."

"How?"

"A blind rumour has begun to circulate among the masses to the effect that the gentry are about to poison their peasants _en masse_."

Maria looked at the master in amazement.

"But is there anyone who believes such a thing?"

"The tales of wayfarers first spread the rumour, the thoughtless speech of a drunken apothecary's assistant established it, intercepted letters written by the gentry to one another served as confirmatory testimony."

"And the gentry actually wrote to each other that they were about to poison the peasants?"

"No, but those who read out these letters to the people, took care to find therein things that had never been written down."

In her horror and disgust Maria had been on the point of betraying herself.

"Oh! I see. You read out forged letters to the illiterate people. A very judicious expedient, I must say. Village folks can be got to believe anything. But how about the townsfolk?"

"Oh! in the towns there is even more fear than in the country, and more terrifying rumours too. But one loud cry and the walls of Jericho will fall down--fall down where nobody expected it."

An idea suddenly flashed like lightning through Maria's brain.

"Have our brethren who dwell on the banks of the Drave[13] and among the mountains of Chernagora[14] been informed of this movement?" she asked.

[Footnote 13: The Croats and Serbs.]

[Footnote 14: The Montenegrins.] The master, somewhat confused, replied that they had not.

"Then all our fine preparations will lead to nothing," rejoined Maria, with self-assumed despondency. "While you are awake in one place they are asleep in another; in one spot the flames are bursting forth, in another they are being extinguished. Why, they ought to have flashed forth everywhere at once. Have you issued proclamations?"

"No," replied Bodza shamefacedly.

"Then, Numa Pompilius, you know not what you are about," cried Maria. "Why, that was the first, the one absolutely indispensable thing to be done. You should have sent proclamations in every direction, you should have kept the local leaders fully informed of what was going on, you should have concentrated the whole force of the movement, you should have thoroughly systematized the whole concern. Ah! Numa, I see you are but a neophyte after all. Why did you begin without inviting the aid of the Poles? This is just the sort of thing a Pole would understand! Have you writing materials handy?"

Startled into obsequiousness, Bodza produced ink and paper from some secret receptacle. He was humbly silent now. He felt himself in the presence of a man wiser than himself.

"And now sit down and write!"

Bodza obeyed mechanically. Maria dictated to him what he was to write, while she herself, at the same time, was writing something else on another piece of paper.

"BRETHREN!

"The long expected hour has at length struck. The flag is
unfurled. The gentry want to extirpate us by means of poison, we
will extirpate them with fire and sword. The brave shall live,
the cowards shall die. Ye, who see your children, your parents
tormented and grovelling in the dust, snatch up your arms and
avenge them. Fear not the soldiers, they also will be on our
side. Let none go who has short-cropped hair. Two deputies must
proceed forthwith from every village to Hétfalu, which is to be
the centre of our operations, and there await our further
instructions. Valour and concord.

"Given at our headquarters near Hétfala."

"Write your name beneath it: 'Numa Pompilius, prætor of Upper Pannonia.'"

Thomas Bodza, with a spasmodic grin, accepted this title of distinction, and added his sprawling signature to the dangerous document.

Then Maria snatched up a pen, and subscribed it with the name: Fabius Cunctator, quæstor of Volhynia.

Then both documents were sealed with the famous signet ring, bearing the three mysterious letters, and also with Maria's family seal.

"And now send one of the documents by a rapid horseman to the Nyitra district, while I hasten with the other towards Slavonia. Meanwhile, you will organize here a standing army. You have already arranged, I suppose, to procure provisions and uniforms?"

Thomas Bodza confessed with a blush that he had _not_ taken thought for these things.

"Well, write as soon as possible an open order to the presidents of the Tailor and Cobbler Guilds of Kassa and Rozsnyó, commanding each of them to provide, without fail, within ten days four thousand pairs of boots and just as many dolmans and szürs,[15] and send them in carts to Hétfalu, otherwise you will levy upon them a grievous contribution."

[Footnote 15: A szür is a sheepskin mantle such as the peasants wear.]

This letter also Thomas Bodza wrote as he had been told. "These Poles have had such lots of practice in such matters," thought he to himself.

"And now despatch one of these open orders by a swift courier to Rozsnyó, and the other I will take charge of. Do not forget to have numerous copies made of these proclamations for instant distribution throughout the length and breadth of the kingdom."

Bodza promised to make his pupils copy out the documents in question early on the following morning.

"And now, my brave Numa, don't forget that our watchword is: 'Valour and Concord!' Of valour we have no lack, but as regards concord I would first of all have you know why they call me Fabius Cunctator. My principle is: judicious procrastination! It was a premature signal, you will remember, which ruined the plots of Romulus II. If only he had waited for another half day, for another six hours, his enterprise would have been a triumphant success. Only over-hastiness ruined us then. Lest a similar risk should befall us now, I would strongly advise you to postpone the general rising till to-morrow afternoon. To-morrow afternoon all the soldiery will quit Kassa for Eperies, and they will not be relieved for two whole days. You will now understand therefore why I want the rising postponed till to-morrow afternoon."

The master turned very pale.

"Too late now!" said he.

"How so?" exclaimed Maria confounded.

"All my orders have been distributed already."

"Then they must be recalled."

"It's impossible, impossible," cried the master, wringing his hands; and he glanced anxiously, from time to time, through the window, through which a far distant reddish light was beginning to illuminate the room. "They have already fired the house of the headsman."

"What!" cried Maria beside herself.

"That was to be the beginning of it. It is impossible now to hold them back any longer."

"Oh, fools and madmen!" hissed the lady. Her immediate impulse was to rush from the room. At the door, however, she recovered her _sang froid_, and, turning back, clutched Bodza by the arm and whispered in his ear:

"There is now only one remaining way of gaining a complete victory."

"What is that?"

"We must revolt the county-town also. If we succeed we shall have the General as a hostage, if we do not, at least we shall give the soldiers something to do."

Thomas Bodza, with his teeth all chattering, approved of this project. He would, however, have very much liked to know who would undertake this dangerous enterprise.

Never had Maria had to exercise such self-control as now, when, gazing through the window into the night, she watched with the utmost _sang froid_ the distant conflagration which was lighting up the room.

For an instant the thought of what was happening there and what might be happening elsewhere flashed through her brain. She saw vividly before her all those midnight horrors, and all the time she had to affect an enthusiastic interest in the affair.

"Numa Pompilius, we must make haste! Have you a good steed handy here? Mine I have left behind on the road, it was no longer of any service to me."

"Be it so, Fabius! It was my first care to seize all the post-horses in order that the authorities should not send forth couriers for assistance. You see that I am provident. Choose the best horse for yourself and hasten whither you would. I entrust this province to you."

Bodza was magnanimous. The department of greatest danger and the glory of conquest he entrusted to another.

"I will hasten," cried Maria, flinging open the door--and for some moments she remained standing on the threshold. "Numa!" she cried at last, "you would let me depart alone?"

"Why not?"

"You are making a mistake. The popular leaders might be suspicious. Suppose they took me for a spy or a traitor? Never put your whole confidence in a single person. Always send forth your emissaries in couples, that one of them may be a check upon the other. That is a general rule. I am surprised that you have not learnt it hitherto."

Thomas Bodza admitted his mistake, but of course Fabius had had so much more experience in these matters. An escort he must have certainly.

Maria, on the other hand, required an escort in order to avoid being again detained by the mobs of rustics encamped in front of the _csárda_.

"Bring hither two good horses!" cried Bodza to the boor mounting guard in the corridor, and with that the pair of them stepped forth amidst the peasant host.

The peasants were scattered about in groups. Here and there some of them were engaged in sharpening their scythes. Others were standing round excited stump-orators, or making a frightful uproar over a few pence which they had found upon some poor Jewish tramp and would not divide fairly.

"My friends!" cried Maria, stepping into the midst of them, and speaking in a friendly confident tone, "can I find among you half a dozen stouthearted dare-devils who are ready, if necessary, to go through fire and water?"

The gaping rioters did not respond very willingly at first, but when Thomas Bodza assured them that they now saw before them one of the most powerful leaders of the movement, ten or twenty of them forced their way to the front, boasting loudly that they were prepared to face any danger.

"Remember this is no joke, my sons," continued Maria. "Are you ready to adventure yourselves with me in the county-town, read the proclamation in the streets, stir up the people there, provide yourselves with weapons and powder, and seize all the bigwigs at one stroke like a pack of wolves in a spinney?"

This little speech somewhat abated the ardour of the more clamorous heroes, yet two or three youths, well soaked with brandy, still persisted in beating their breasts with their fists, and declared that they were men enough for anything.

Maria selected from among them shaggy Hanák. The fellow had a face as broad as it was long, one half of which was covered with hair, the other with bristles; it was impossible not to take to him at once.

"You shall come with me. Mount on the other horse."

Shaggy Hanák did not wait for a second invitation. He managed somehow to scramble on to the horse's back, and could not help smiling with joy at the thought that at last he had a good steed beneath him.

Maria leaped lightly on to the second horse. It was a somewhat lean and bony beast of great powers of endurance.

"To-morrow about this time you shall hear of us," she said, addressing herself to Bodza. "Till then avoid every decisive step. Whomsoever you may capture keep a strict watch upon them, and see that no harm befall them. Do you take me? It is possible that the captives may attempt to put an end to their own lives. But we shall require them all on account of their confessions. Therefore take care of their lives. We must judge each one of them separately. Numa! take care to be ubiquitous. Valour and vigilance!"

Then, after pressing Thomas Bodza's hand once more, Maria put spurs to her horse and galloped briskly along the high road. As for the horse of her comrade it had to be almost dragged out of the courtyard, as it showed a disposition to force its rider to return to the stable. Only with the utmost difficulty did Hanák succeed in overtaking Maria, pursued by the yells of encouragement and exultation of the mob he had left behind him.

Maria pounded along the highway, glancing aside from time to time in the direction of the burning house, the conflagration of which lit up the overcast sky, tinging the clouds with an angry purple. The wind drove the lurid smoke hither and thither. There was as steady a glare as if a whole village was in flames. As they sped further and further away the flames lit up the road and the wayside trees, and the towering masses of clouds ever less and less. At last all that was to be seen was a large blood-red star rising from the plain, a mere point of light far, far away. Then even that vanished. Soon afterwards day began to dawn. The cinder-grey sky reduced the nightly glare to ashes, and a dark grey column of smoke, standing out against the pale yellow horizon, was the only sign left of the conflagration.

On approaching the next _csárda_, Maria allowed Hanák to draw nearer to her; her escort had to explain to the mob of peasants drinking in front of the door on what errand they were speeding. He did so in his usual boisterous bombastic fashion.

"We are going to town," bawled he. "We are going to read the proclamation and collar the soldiers and the bigwigs, and bring back with us guns and gunpowder, and lots of money. This is the courier."

Hoarsely bellowed "Eljens!" greeted this magnanimous resolution. A guffawing scytheman, moreover, pressed with his horny palm the hand of Maria, for whom shaggy Hanák, in the fervour of his enthusiasm, could find no more important title than that of "courier."

As the day slowly began to dawn, the sobering breath of the fresh morning breeze blew full in the faces of the horsemen, and the towers of the county-town stood out plainly before them in the distance. And now Maria began to observe that her companion was lagging behind her at a considerable distance. More than once she had to shout back to him:

"My brother! don't drop behind so!"

"My horse is tired out," stammered Hanák, and he kept on mopping up the sweat from his towzled poll.

"Give him the spur, then!"

"I would if I had 'em."

"Then ride in front of me, and I'll whip him up from behind."

And so they went along pretty well for some time, but when the towers and steeples of the county-town drew very much nearer, shaggy Hanák began to complain that his saddle was nearly falling off.

"Dismount, then, and fix it tighter!"

The fellow dismounted accordingly, but he was fumbling about with it such a long time that Maria, growing impatient, herself leaped to the ground and tightened his saddle-girths.

"And now up you get and off again!"

Shaggy Hanák stuck all five fingers into his hairy poll and scratched his head all round beneath his cap, then suddenly, with an artful grin, he turned his face towards Maria.

"Hark ye! Are we really going into the town?"

"Of course we are."

"And you really intend to read out the proclamation, to seize the General, take away the guns, and capture the barrack?"

"Yes, and much more besides, when the business has been fairly begun."

Shaggy Hanák began to scratch his head still harder, and seemed to have a thousand and one things to put to rights in the horse's trappings. At last he came out with the following proposition:

"Listen, comrade! Don't you think it would be better if, when you went into the town, I remained outside and read the proclamation to all the people coming to market?"

"You can read then?"

"Read! A pretty sort of sexton I should be if I couldn't read!"

"Very well. I rather like your idea;" whereupon Maria drew from her side-pocket a couple of cigars wrapped up in part of an odd number of the Leutschau county newspaper, and gave the sheet to her valiant comrade, who glanced over it with the air of a connoisseur, and, after declaring aloud that he quite grasped its meaning, folded it neatly up, and stuck it in the braiding of his cap.

"I'll read it in my best style," said he, "and will come to your assistance at the head of a fresh band of them."

Maria approved of his design, and, whipping up her horse, galloped towards the town at such a rate that shaggy Hanák felt constrained to pray Heaven that his comrade might not break his neck before he got there. _

Read next: Chapter 12. In The Midst Of The Fire

Read previous: Chapter 10. A Leader Of The People

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