At this insult Ali Pasha's gall overflowed, and seizing his mace, he aimed a blow with it at Topay, when suddenly a sharp crackling cross-fire resounded from a neighbouring lane, and amidst the thick clouds of smoke, Rákóczy's musketeers appeared, sticking their daggers into their discharged firearms, a practise to which the bayonet owed its origin at a later day. The Turkish cavalry, crowded together in the narrow street, was in a few moments demoralised by this rapid assault. The improvised bayonet told terribly in the crush, swords and darts were powerless against it.

"Allah is great!" cried Ali. "Hasten into the fortress and draw up the bridge, we are only perishing here. Only the fortress remains to us."

His conductors, against his will, seized his bridle, and dragged him along with them; and when a valiant musketeer, drawing near to him, cut down his charger, the terrified Pasha clambered up into the saddle of one of his headsmen, and took refuge behind his back.

A young Hungarian horseman was constantly on his track. Nobody could tell Ali who he was, but one could see from his face that he was the Pasha's fiercest enemy, and animated by something more than mere martial ardour. This young horseman gave no heed to the bullets or blades which were directed against him; he was bent only on bloodshed.

It was young Rákóczy, to whom bitterness had given strength a hundredfold. Forcing his way through the flying hostile rabble, he was drawing nearer and nearer to Ali every moment, cutting down one by one all who barred the way between him and the Pasha, and the Turks quailed before his strong hands and savage looks.

At length they reached the bridge, which was built upon piles, between deep bulwarks, and led into the fortress, the front part of whose gate was fortified by iron plates and huge nails, and could be drawn up to the gate of the tower by round chains. On the summit of the tower of the citadel could still be seen the equestrian statue of St. Ladislaus derisively turned upside down between the severed legs of two felons.

The Hungarians and the Turks reached the bridge together so intermingled that the only thing to be seen was a confused mass of turbans and helmets, in the midst of a forest of swords and scimitars, with the banner of the Blessed Virgin cheek by jowl with the crescented horse-tails.

At the gate of the citadel stood two long widely gaping eighteen-pounders commanding the bridge, filled with chain, shot, and ground nails; but the Komparajis dare not use their cannons, for in whatever direction they might aim, there were quite as many Turks as Hungarians. On the bridge itself the foes were fighting man to man. Rákóczy was at that moment fighting with the bearer of the triple horse-tail, striving to take the standard pole with his left hand, while he aimed blow after blow at his antagonist with his right.

"Shoot them down, you good-for-nothings!" roared Ali Pasha, turning back to the inactive and contumacious Komparajis. "Reck not whether your bullets sweep away as many Mussulmans as Hungarians, myself included! Sweep the bridge clear, I say! Life is cheap, but Paradise is dear!"

But the gunners still hesitated to fire amongst their comrades, when Ali sent two drummers to them commanding them to aim their guns aloft and fire into the air.

The contest on the bridge was raging furiously; the Janissaries had placed their backs against the parapet, and there stood motionless, with their huge broad-swords in their naked fists, like a fence of living scythes, tearing into ribbons everything which came between them.

Then it occurred to a regiment of German Drabants to clamber up the parapet of the bridge, and tear the Janissaries away from the parapet; some ten or twenty of these Drabants did scramble up on the bridge, when the parapet suddenly gave way beneath the double weight, and Janissaries and Drabants fell down into the deep moat beneath, throttling each other in the water, and whenever a turbaned head appeared above the surface, the Germans standing at the foot of the bridge beat out its brains with their halberds.

Meanwhile, the two fighting heroes in the middle of the bridge were almost exhausted by the contest. They had already hacked each other's swords to pieces, had grasped the banner, the object of the struggle, with both hands, and were tearing away at it with ravening wrath.

The Turkish standard-bearer then suddenly pressed his steed with his knees, making it rear up beneath him, so that the Turk stood now a head and shoulder higher than Rákóczy, and threatened either to oust him from his saddle or tear the standard from his hand.

At that moment the white figure of a girl appeared on the summit of the rampart of the tower, her black locks streaming in the wind, her face aglow with enthusiasm.

"Heaven help thee, Ladislaus!" cried the girl from the battlement of the tower; and the youth, hearing from on high what sounded like a voice from heaven, recognised it, looked up and saw his bride—a superhuman strength arose in his heart and in his arm, and when the Turkish standard-bearer made his charger rear, Rákóczy suddenly let the flag-pole go, and seizing the bridle of the snorting steed with both hands, with one Herculean thrust, flung back steed, rider, and banner through the palisade into the deep moat below.

"There is no hope save with God!" cried Ali in despair, for his terrified people at the sight of this prodigy had dragged him along with them against his will.

"Ladislaus! Ladislaus! My darling!" resounded from above. The youth was fighting with the strength of ten men; three horses had already been shot under him, and a third sword was flashing in his hand. Already he was standing on the drawbridge; his sweetheart threw down a white handkerchief to him, and he was already waving it above his head in triumph, when a well-directed bullet pierced the young hero's heart, and he collapsed a corpse on the very threshold of his success, in the very gate of the captured fortress at the feet of his beloved.

At that same instant a heart-rending shriek resounded, and from the top of the tower a white shape fell down upon the bridge; the beautiful bride, from a height of thirty feet, had cast herself down on the dead body of her beloved, and died at the same instant as he, mingling their blood together; and if their arms did not, at least their souls could, embrace each other.

This spectacle so stupefied the besiegers, that Ali Pasha had just time enough swiftly to raise the drawbridge and save the fortress and a fragment of his host. Of those who remained outside, not a single soul survived. Kökényesdi massacred without mercy everything which distantly resembled a Turk, together with the camels and mules, sparing nothing but the horses, and when every house had been well plundered, he set the town on fire in twelve places, so that the flames in half an hour consumed everything, and the whole city blazed away like a gigantic bonfire, the rising wind whirling the smoke and flame over the ditch towards the fortress.

"Ali Pasha may put that in his pipe and smoke it," said Kökényesdi, rejoicing at the magnificent conflagration.

But the bodies of Ladislaus Rákóczy and his sweetheart they bore away, and buried them side by side in the family vault at Rákás.

CHAPTER VI.
THE MONK OF THE HOLY SPRING.

The larger part of the building was reserved for noble guests, the common people encamped in the courtyard beneath tents; and behind the building a splendid garden was laid out, which the worthy monks always magnificently maintained. Even to this day, in the grassy patches round about the spot, it is possible to discover the savage descendants of many rare and precious flowers.

At the period in which our history falls, the convent of the holy well was represented by a single reverend father, whom the common tongue simply called Friar Gregory, and there was scarce a soul in Transylvania who did not know him well. He was a big man, six feet in height, with a flowing black beard, swarthy, lean, with a bony frame, and with hands so big that he could cover a six-pound cannon ball with each palm. A simple habit covered his limbs, head-dress he had none, and his broad shining forehead was without a wrinkle. His droning voice was so powerful that when he sang his psalms he made more noise than a whole congregation.

At the times when the holy spring was flowing, the cellar and pantry of the good friar stood wide open to rich and poor alike, for whatever he earned in one year he never put by for the next, and whatever the wealthy paid to him the needy had the benefit of; and whenever any clerical colleague happened to come his way, whether he were Orthodox, Armenian, Calvinist, or Unitarian, he could not make too much of him; all such guests, during their stay, regularly swam in milk and butter, and remembered it to the very day of their death.

Just at this very time the Right Reverend Ladislaus Magyari's little daughter, Rosy, was suffering from a complaint which gave the lie to her healthy name, and her father thought it just as well to take her to the holy spring, perchance the healing water would restore to her wan little face the colour of youth.

Brother Gregory was beside himself with joy; the best room was prepared for his right reverend colleague, and brother cook, brother cellarer, and brother gardener were ordered to see to it that meat, drink, and heaps of flowers were provided for the honoured guests. No two people in the wide world were so suited to each other as Father Gregory and Dean Magyari; their hearts were equally good, and each of them had a head upon his shoulders. They rose up early in the morning to argue with each other on dogmatic questions—to wit, which faith was the best, truest, happiest, most blessed, and surest, and kept it up till late in the evening, by no means neglecting the frequent emptying of foaming beakers during the contest, pounding each other with citations, entangling each other with syllogisms, flooring each other with authorities, and overwhelming each other with anecdotes; and it always ended in their shaking hands and agreeing together that every faith was good if only a man were true to himself.

While her father was thus manfully battling, pretty pale Rosy would be amusing herself in the garden or by the spring with little girls of her own age, and the fresh air, the scent of the flowers, and the beneficent water of the spring gradually restored to her face its vanished bloom; and Magyari joyfully thought how delighted her mother would be if she were able to embrace her convalescent child, and, in sheer delight at the idea, spun out his disputatious evenings whilst Rosy in an adjacent cell was sleeping the sleep of the just.

The two worthy gentlemen were sitting over their cups one beautiful evening, when a loud knocking was heard at the outer gate. The rule was that at sundown the pilgrim mob was to betake itself to the courtyard of the cloister, and the gate should be closed. The friar who kept the gate came to announce that four queer-looking monks demanded admission, were they to be let in?

"There can be no question about it," said Father Gregory. "If any desire admission, bring them to us, and provide refreshment for them."

In a few moments the four friars in question entered. They were dressed in coarse black sackcloth habits, with the cowls drawn down over their heads. All that was to be seen of them was their eyes and shaggy beards. With deep obeisances, but without a word, they approached the two reverend gentlemen. The Father rose politely and greeted them respectfully in Latin: "Benedicite nomen Domini." They only kept on bowing and were silent.

"Nomen dei sit benedictum!" repeated Gregory, fancying that his guests did not hear what he said, and as they did not reply to that, he asked with great astonishment:

"Non exandistis nomen gloriosissimi Domini, fratres amantissimi?"

At this the foremost of them said: "We do not understand that language, worthy brother."

"Then what sort of monks are ye? To what confession do ye belong? Are ye Greeks?"

"We are not Greeks."

"Then are you Armenians?"

"We are not Armenians."

"Arians, then?"

"Neither are we Arians."

"Are you Patarenes?"

"No, we are not."

"Then in gloriam æterni to what order do you belong?"

"We are robbers," thereupon exclaimed the one interrogated, throwing aside the fold of his cloak, beneath which could be seen a belt crammed with daggers and pistols. "My name is Feri Kökényesdi," said he, striking his breast.

Magyari thereupon leaped from his chair, which he immediately converted into a weapon; it at once occurred to him that he had an only daughter to defend, and he was ready to fight the robbers on behalf of her. But the father pulled him by the cassock and whispered: "Pray be quiet, your Reverence," and then with an infinitely placid face he turned towards the robbers. "So that is the order to which you belong," said he. "Still, if you have come as guests, sit down and eat what you desire."

"But that is not sufficient. Outside this monastery there are 1700 of us, and all of them want to eat and drink, for it is only the ancient prophets who, when hungry, were content with the meat of the Word."

"Let them also satisfy their desires."

"However, the main thing is this: in your Reverence's chapel is a whole lot of very nice gold and silver saints, who certainly befriend those who sigh after them, and as we cannot come running to them here every day in order to entreat their aid, we had better take them along with us, that they may be helpful to us on the road."

"Thou hast a pretty mother-wit, frater! Who could refuse thee anything?"

"It is also no secret to us, Father Gregory, that your Reverence's cellar is crammed with kegs full of good money, silver and gold. May we be allowed to relieve your Reverence of a little of this burden?"

"He is quite welcome to it," thought the father, well aware that there was absolutely nothing at all.

"Do not imagine, your Reverence," continued the robber, "that we cannot extort a confession, if it should occur to your Reverence to conceal anything. It would be just as well, therefore, if your Reverence were to reveal everything before we cut up your back with sharp thongs."

The brother smiled as good-humouredly as if he were listening to some pleasing anecdote.

"Have you any other desires, my sons?"

"Yes, a good many. There is a great crowd of women collected together in your Reverence's courtyard. We have taken no vows of celibacy, therefore we should like to choose from among them what would suit us."

Magyari felt the hairs of his head rising heavenwards, a cold shiver ran through him from head to foot, and he would have risen from his place had not the monk pressed him down with a frightfully heavy hand.

"For God's sake, my dear son, do not so wickedly. Take away the saints from the altar if you like, but harm not the innocent who are now peacefully slumbering in the shadow of God's protection."

"Not another word, Brother Gregory," cried the robber, closing his fist on his dagger, "or I'll set the monastery on fire and burn every living soul in it, yourself included. A robber only recognises four sacraments: wine, money, wenches, and blood! You may congratulate yourself if we are content with the third and dispense with the last."

"So it is!" observed another of the cowled and bearded robbers, tapping Magyari on the shoulder. "Do you recognise me, eh, your Reverence?"

Magyari, with a sensation of shuddering loathing, recognised Szénasi, a canting charlatan whose frauds he had often exposed.

"We know well enough," said the fellow with an evil chuckle, "that you have a fair daughter here. I am going to pay off old scores."

If Magyari had not been well in the brother's grip, he would have gone for the wretch. Every fibre of his body was shivering with rage.

Only the brother remained calm and smiling. Joining his hands together, he made a little mill with the aid of his two thumbs.

"Wait, my dear son, cannot we come to some agreement. You know very well that my money is concealed in barrels, but so well hidden is it that none besides myself know where it is. Even if you turned this monastery upside down you would not find it. You may also have heard that once upon a time there lived a kind of men called martyrs, who let themselves be boiled in oil, or roasted on red-hot fires, or torn in pieces by wild beasts, without saying a word which might hurt their souls. Well, that is the sort of man I am. If I make up my mind to hold my tongue, you might tear me to bits inch by inch with burning tweezers, and you would get not a word nor a penny out of me. Now 'tis for you to choose. Will you carry off the money and leave the poor women-folk alone, or will you lay your hands on the down-trodden, lame, halt, consumptive beggar-women, whom you will find here, and not see a farthing? Which is it to be?"

The four robbers whispered together. No doubt they said something to this effect: only let the pater produce his money, and then it will be an easy thing for us to take back our given word and satisfy our hearts' desires. They signified that they would stand by the money.

"Look now! you are good men," said the father, "take these two torches and come with me to the cellar and go through my treasures, only you must do none any harm."

"A little less jaw, please," growled Kökényesdi. "Two go in front with the torches, and Brother Gregory between you. I'll follow after; the magister can remain behind to look after the other parson. Whoever speaks a word or makes a signal, I'll bring my axe down on his head—forward!"

And so it was. Two of the robbers went in front with torches; after them came the brother with Kökényesdi at his heels with a drawn dagger in his hand; last of all marched Magyari, whom Master Szénasi held by the collar at arm's-length, threatening him at the same time with a flashing axe.

Thus they descended to the cellar. The good father, with timid humility, hid his head in his hood and looked neither to the left nor to the right.

The cellar was provided with a large, double, iron trap-door. After drawing out its massive bolts, the worthy brother raised one of its flaps, bidding them lower the torches for his convenience.

As now the first robber descended and the second plunged after him, the father suddenly kicked out with his monstrous wooden shoe and brought the door down on his head, so that he rolled down to the bottom of the stairs; and then, quick as thought, he turned upon Kökényesdi, seized his hands, and said to Magyari:

"You seize the other!"

Kökényesdi, in the first moment of surprise, thrust at the brother, but his dagger glanced aside against the stiff hair-shirt, and there was no time for a second thrust, for the terrible brother had seized both his hands and crushed them against his breast with irresistible force with one hand, while with the other he dispossessed him of all the murderous weapons in his girdle one by one, shaking him with one hand as easily as a grown man shakes a child of nine; then he dragged him towards the cellar door, pressing it down with their double weight so that those below could not raise it.

Mr. Magyari that self-same instant had caught the magister by the nape of the neck and, mindful of the wrestling trick he had learnt in his youth when he was a student at Nagyenyed, quickly floored, and, not content with that, sat down on the top of him with his whole weight, so that the poor meagre creature was flattened out beneath him. Magyari at the same time relieved his sprawling hands of their murderous weapons in imitation of the good priest.

Kökényesdi admitted to himself that never before had he been in such a hobble. In a stand-up fight he had rarely met his equal, and more than once he had held his own against two or three stout fellows single-handed; but never had he had to do with such a man as Brother Gregory, one of whose hands was quite sufficient to pin his two arms uselessly to his side, while with the other hand he explored his remotest pockets to their ultimate depths and denuded them of every sort of cutting and stabbing instrument. When the robber realized that even his gigantic strength was powerless to drag his antagonist away from the cellar door beneath which his two comrades were vainly thundering, he endeavoured to free himself by resorting to the desperate devices of the wild-beasts, lunging out with his feet and worrying the iron hand of the monk with his teeth; whereupon Brother Gregory also lost his temper and, seizing Kökényesdi by the hair of his head, held him aloft like a young hare, so that he was unable to scratch or bite any more.

"Do not plunge about so, dilectissime; you see it is of no use," said the brother, holding the robber so far away from him by his hairy poll with outstretched hand that at last he was obliged to capitulate.

"Thou seest what unmercifulness thou dost compel us to adopt, amantissime!" said the brother apologetically, but still holding him aloft with one hand and shaking a reproving finger at him with the other. "Dost thou not shudder at thyself, does not thine own soul accuse thee for coming to plunder holy places? Or dost thou not think of the Kingdom of Hell to the very threshold of which evil resolves have misguided thy feet, and where there will be weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth?"

"Let me go, you devil of a friar!" gasped the robber, hoarse with rage.

"Not until thou hast come to thyself and art sorry for thy sins," said the brother, still holding in the air his dilectissime, whose eyes by this time were starting out of his head because of the tugging pressure on his hair; "thou must be sorry for thy sins."

"I am sorry then, only let me go!"

"And wilt thou turn back to the right path?"

"Yes, yes, of course I will."

"And thou wilt steal no more?"

"Not a cockchafer."

"Nor curse and swear?"

"Never no more."

"Very well, then, I'll let thee go. But, colleague Magyari, first of all tie all these daggers and axes together and fling them out of the window."

Mr. Magyari, who had meanwhile disposed of the magister by tying his hands and legs so tightly that he was unable to move a muscle, effected the clearance confided to him, while Brother Gregory deposited on the ground his convert, who leaned against the wall breathing heavily.

"Well, you monk of hell, give me something to eat if there's anything like a kitchen here."

"Oh, my dear son," said the pater tenderly, stroking the face of his lambkin; "believe me, that there is more joy in heaven over one converted sinner——"

"You're a devil, not a friar; for if you were a man of God you could not have got over Kökényesdi so easily—Kökényesdi, who was wont to overthrow whole armadas single-handed—and now to be beaten by an unarmed man!"

"Thou didst come against me with an axe and a fokos,14 but I came against thee in the name of the Lord of Hosts, and He who permitted David the shepherd to pluck the raging lion by the beard and slay him, hath aided my arm also in order that I might be a blessing to thee."

"Blessing indeed!—hang me up! I deserve it for letting myself be collared by a parson."

"Oh, my dear son, to attribute such flagrant cruelty to me! Heaven rejoices not in the death of a sinner."

"Then let me go!"

"How could I let thee go when thou art but half converted? Rather remain here, my son, in this holy seclusion and try and cleanse thy soul by holy penance and prayer."

The robber foamed with rage.

"Where is there a nail that I may hang myself upon it?"

"That thou certainly wilt never be able to do, for a worthy pater shall always be by thy side to teach thee how to sing the Psalter."

The robber gnashed his teeth and stamped with his feet as he cast at the terrible brother bloodshot glances very similar to those which a hyena casts upon a beast-tamer whom he would like to tear to bits and grind to mincemeat, but whom he durst not attack, being well aware that if he but lay a paw or even cast an eye upon him he will instantly be felled to the ground.

"Besides that," continued the brother, "by way of a first trial thou shalt presently deliver a God-fearing discourse."

"I preach a sermon!"

"Not exactly a sermon, but inasmuch as thy faithful followers outside the walls of the monastery may be growing impatient at thy long absence, thou wilt stand at a window and, after assuring them of thy heart-felt penitence, thou wilt send the worthy fellows away that they may depart to their own homes."

"Very well," said Kökényesdi, thinking all the time, let me once be planted at the window in the sight of my bands and at a word from me they will break up the whole monastery, and I will leap out to them at the first opening.

Then Brother Gregory called Magyari aside and whispered in his ear: "You meanwhile will get the carriage ready and take your seat in it with your daughter, and as soon as you perceive that the rabble has departed from the monastery, you will drive straight to Klausenburg and inform Mr. Ebéni, the commandant, that a mixed band of freebooters, together with the garrison of Szathmár, has invaded the realm. I detected a helmet beneath a cowl of one of the rascals I kicked into the cellar. Try to defend the capital against their attacks. God be with you!"

The two priests pressed each other's hands, whereupon Brother Gregory, taking the robber by the arms and shoving him through a little low door, in order that no mischief might befall him, caught him by the nape of the neck and began to force him to ascend a narrow corkscrew staircase, two or three steps at a time.

It was evening now and dark, and there was nothing about the corkscrew staircase to suggest to the robber whither he was being led till at last the brother opened a trapdoor with his head and emerged with him on to a light place and deposited him in front of a lofty window.

The robber's first thought was that he could clear the window at a single bold leap, but one swift glance from the parapet made him recoil with terror; beneath him yawned a depth of at least fifty ells, and, glancing dizzily aloft, he perceived hanging above his head the bells of the monastery. They were in the tower.

"So now, my dear son," said the brother, "stand out on this parapet and call in a loud voice to thy faithful ones that they may draw nigh and hear thee. Then thou wilt speak to them, and in case thou shouldst be at a loss for words, I shall be standing close by this bell-tongue to suggest to thee what thou shalt say. But, for God's sake, beware of thyself, dilectissime! Thou seest what a frightful depth is here below thee, and say not to thy faithful followers anything but what I shall suggest to thee, nor give with thy head or thy hand an unbecoming interpretation to thy words, for if thou doest any such thing, take my word for it that at that same instant thou shalt fall from this window, and if once thou dost stumble, thou wilt not stop till thou dost reach the depths of hell."

The robber stood at the window with his hair erect with horror. He actually trembled—a thing which had never occurred to him before. His valour, that cold contempt for death which had always accompanied him hitherto, forsook him in this horrible position. He felt that at this giddy height neither dexterity nor audacity were of the slightest use to him. Beneath his feet was the gaping abyss, and behind his back was a man with the strength of a giant from whom a mere push—nay! the mere touch of a finger, or a shout a little louder than usual, were sufficient to plunge him down and dash him into helpless fragments on the rocks below. The desperate adventurer, in a fever of terror never felt before, crouched against one of the pillars of the window clutching at the wall with his hand, and it seemed to him as if the wall were about to give way beneath him, as if the tower were tottering beneath his feet; and he regarded the ground below as if it had some horrible power of dragging him down to it, as if some invisible force were inviting him to leap down from there.

Meanwhile his bands, who were lying in ambush outside the monastery, perceived the form of their leader aloft and suddenly darted forward in a body with a loud yell.

"Speak to them, attract their attention!" whispered the brother; "quick, mind what I say!"

The robber indicated his readiness to comply by a nod of his swimming head, and repeated the words which the brother concealed behind the tongue of the bell whispered in his ear.

"My friends" (thus he began his speech), "the priests are collecting their treasures; they are piling them on carts; there are sacks and sacks crammed with gold and silver."

A hideous shout of joy from the auditors expressed thorough approval of this sentence.

"But the worthy brethren have no wine or provisions in this monastery, but in their cellars at Eger there is plenty, so let two hundred of you go there immediately and get what you want."

The freebooters approved of this sentiment also.

"As for the desires that you nourish towards the womenfolk here, I am horrified to be obliged to tell you that for the last three days the black death, that most terrible of plagues, which makes the human body black as a coal even while alive, and infects everyone who draws near it, has been raging within the walls of this monastery during the last three days. I should not therefore advise you to break into this monastery, for it is full of dead and dying men, and so swift is the operation of this destroying angel that my three comrades succumbed to it even while I was ascending this tower, and only the Turkish talisman I wear, composed of earth seven times burnt, and the little finger of a baby that never saw the light of day, have preserved me from destruction."

By the way, Father Gregory had discovered all these things while he was investigating the robber's pockets.

At this terrifying message the horde of robbers began to scatter in all directions from beneath the walls of the monastery.

"For the same reason neither I myself nor the treasure of the monastery can leave this place till all the gold and silver that has been found here has been purified first by fire, then by boiling, and then by cold water, lest the black death should infect you by means of them. And now before making a joint attack on Klausenburg, as we had arranged—which, in view of the height of its walls and the strength of its fortress, would scarcely be a safe job to tackle—you will do this instead: Hide yourselves in parties of two hundred in the forests of Magyar-Gorbo, Vista and Szucság, and remain there quietly without showing yourself on the high road; at the same time four hundred of you will go round at night by the Korod road, and the rest of you will make for the Gyalu woods, and go round towards Szász Fenes. Then, when the garrison of Klausenburg hears the rumour that you are approaching by the Korod road, they will come forth with great confidence; and while some of you will be enticing them further on continually, the rest of you can fall on the defenceless town and plunder it. All you have to do is to act in this way and never show yourselves on the high road."

The robbers expressed their approval of their leader's advice with a loud howl; and while Kökényesdi tottered back half senseless into the brother's arms, they scattered amongst the woods with a great uproar. In an hour's time all that could be heard of them was a cry or two from the darkened distance.

The people assembled in the monastery had been listening to all this in an agony of terror; only Magyari understood the meaning of it. When the brother came down from the tower, Kökényesdi was locked up with his two comrades, and the two reverend gentlemen embraced and magnified each other.

"After God, we have your Reverence to thank for our deliverance," said Magyari with warm feeling, holding his trembling little daughter by the hand.

"But now we must save Klausenburg," said Gregory.

"I will set out this instant; my horse is saddled."

"Your Reverence on horseback, eh? How about the girl?"

"I will leave her here in your Reverence's fatherly care."

"But think."

"Could I leave her in a better place than within these walls, which Providence and your Reverence's fists defend so well?"

"But what if this robber rabble discover our trick and return upon the monastery with tenfold fury?"

"Then I will all the more certainly hasten to defend the walls of your Reverence, because my only child will be within them."

With that the pastor kissed the forehead of his daughter, who at that moment was paler than ever, fastened his big copper sword to his side, seized his shaggy little horse by the bridle, opened the door for himself, and, with a stout heart, trotted away on the high road.

But the brother summoned into the chapel the whole congregation, and late at night intoned a thanksgiving to the Lord of Hosts; after which Father Gregory got into the pulpit and preached to the faithful a powerful and fulminating sermon, in which he stirred them up to the defence of their altars, and at the end of his sacred discourse he seized with one hand the gigantic banner of the church—which on the occasion of processions three men used to support with difficulty—and so stirred up the enthusiastic people that if at that moment the robbers had been there in front of the monastery, they would have been capable of rushing out of the gates upon them with their crutches and sticks and dashing them to pieces.

CHAPTER VII.
THE PANIC OF NAGYENYED.

The first that Mr. Ebéni heard of the approaching mischief was when ten or twenty men came rushing to him one after another to arouse him and tell him what the parson was saying. When at last he was brought to see that the matter was no joke, he leaped from his bed in terror, and for the life of him did not know what to do. The people were running up and down the streets bawling and squalling; the heydukes were beating the alarm drums; cavalry, blowing their trumpets, were galloping backwards and forwards—and Mr. Ebéni completely lost his head.

Fortunately for him Magyari was quickly by his side.

"What has happened? What's the matter? What are they doing, very reverend sir?" inquired the commandant, just as if Magyari were the leader of troops.

"The mischief is not very serious, but it is close at hand," replied the reverend gentleman. "A band of freebooters—some seventeen companies under the command of a robber chief—have burst into Transylvania, and with them are some regular horse belonging to the garrison of Szathmár. At this moment they cannot be more than four leagues distant from Klausenburg; but they are so scattered that there are no more than four hundred of them together anywhere, so that, with the aid of the gentlemen volunteers and the Prince's German regiments, you ought to wipe them out in detail. The first thing to be done, however, is to warn the Prince of this unexpected event, for he is now taking his pleasure at Nagyenyed."

"Your Reverence is right," said Ebéni, "we'll act at once;" and, after dismissing the priest to look after the armed bands and reconnoitre, he summoned a swift courier, and, as in his confusion he at first couldn't find a pen and then upset the inkstand over the letter when he had written it, he at last hurriedly instructed the courier to convey a verbal message to the Prince to the effect that the Szathmárians, in conjunction with the freebooters, had broken into Transylvania with seventeen companies, and were only four hours' march from Klausenburg, and that Klausenburg was now preparing to defend itself.

Thus Ebéni gave quite another version to the parson's tidings, for while the parson had only mentioned a few horsemen from the Szathmár garrison he had put the Szathmárians at the head of the whole enterprise, and had reduced the distance of four leagues to a four hours' journey which, in view of the condition of the Transylvanian roads, made all the difference.

The courier got out of the town as quickly as possible, and by the time he had reached his destination had worked up his imagination to such an extent that he fancied the invading host had already valiantly covered the four leagues; and, bursting in upon the Prince without observing that the Princess, then in an interesting condition, was with him, blurted out the following message:

"The Szathmár garrison with seventeen bands of freebooters has invaded Transylvania and is besieging Klausenburg, but Mr. Ebéni is, no doubt, still defending himself."

The Princess almost fainted at these words; while Apafi, leaping from his seat and summoning his faithful old servant Andrew, ordered him to get the carriage ready at once, and convey the Princess as quickly as possible to Gyula-Fehervár, for the Szathmár army, with seventeen companies of Hungarians, had attacked Klausenburg, and by this time eaten up Mr. Ebéni, who was not in a position to defend himself.

Andrew immediately rushed off for his horses, had put them to in one moment, in another moment had carried down the Princess' most necessary travelling things, and in the third moment had the lady safely seated, who was terribly frightened at the impending danger.

The men loafing about the courtyard, surprised at this sudden haste, surrounded the carriage; and one of them, an old acquaintance of Andrew's, spoke to him just as he had mounted the box and asked him what was the matter.

"Alas!" replied Andrew, "the army of Szathmár has invaded Transylvania, has devastated Klausenburg with 17,000 men, and is now advancing on Nagyenyed."

Well, they waited to hear no more. As soon as they perceived the Princess's carriage rolling rapidly towards the fortress of Fehervár, they scattered in every direction, and in an hour's time the whole town was flying along the Fehervár road. Everyone hastily took away with him as much as he could carry; the women held their children in their arms; the men had their bundles on their backs and drove their cows and oxen before them; carts were packed full of household goods; and everyone lamented, stormed, and fled for all he was worth.

Just at that time there happened to be at Nagyenyed the envoy of the Pasha of Buda, Yffim Beg, who had been sent to the Prince to hasten his march into Hungary with the expected auxiliary army, and who absolutely refused to believe Teleki that they ought to remain where they where, as it was from the direction of Szathmár that an attack was to be feared.

The worthy Yffim Beg was actually sitting in his bath when the panic-flight took place; and, alarmed at the noise, he sprang out of the water, and wrapping a sheet round him rushed to the window, and perceiving the terrified flying rabble, cried to one of the passers-by: "Whither are you running? What is going on here?"

"Alas, sir!" panted the breathless fugitive, "the Szathmár army, 27,000 strong, has invaded Transylvania, has taken everything in its road, and is now only two hours' march from Nagyenyed."

This was quite enough for Yffim Beg also. Hastily tying the bathing-towels round his body and without his turban, he rushed to the stables, flung himself on a barebacked steed and galloped away from Nagyenyed without taking leave of anyone; and did not so much as change his garment till he reached Temesvár, and there reported that the countless armies of Szathmár had conquered the whole of Transylvania!

Thus Teleki had gained his object: the Transylvanian troops had now good reasons for staying at home. Yet he had got much more than he wanted, for he had only required of Kászonyi a feigned attack, whereas the band of Kökényesdi had ravaged Transylvania as far as Klausenburg.

The fact that the worthy friar and Mr. Ladislaus Magyari had captured the leader of the freebooters made very little difference at all, for the crafty adventurer had bored his way through the wall of his dungeon that very night, and had escaped with his three comrades.

Early next morning, on perceiving that his captives had escaped, Father Gregory was terribly alarmed, imagining that they would now bring back the whole robber band against him; and, hastening immediately to collect the whole of the pilgrims, loaded wagons with the most necessary provisions and the treasures of the altar, conducted them among the hills, and there concealed them in the Cavern of Balina, carrying the sick members of his flock one by one across the mountain-streams in front of the cavern and depositing them in the majestic rocky chamber, which more than once had served the inhabitants of the surrounding districts as a place of refuge from the Tartars, having a large open roof through which the smoke could get out, while a stream flowing through it kept them well supplied with drinking-water. In an hour's time fires and ovens, made from fresh leaves and mown grass, stood ready in the midst of the place of refuge; and on a stone pedestal, in the background, always standing ready for such a purpose, an altar was erected.

Meanwhile Kökényesdi had hastened to overtake his bands which had scattered at the word of the brother in order to re-unite them before the people of Klausenburg could capture them in detail. Szénasi he dispatched to call back the wanderers who had been sent to the cellars of Eger and besiege the monastery.

When Szénasi returned with the two hundred hungry men he only found empty walls, and to make them emptier still—he burnt them down to the ground.

He then sat down, and by the light of the conflagration wrote a sarcastic letter to Teleki, in which he informed him with a great show of humility that he had made the required diversion against Transylvania, that he kissed his hand, that he might command him at any future time, and that he was his most humble servant.

He had scarcely sent off the letter by a Wallachian gipsy, picked up on the road, when he saw a company of horsemen galloping towards the burning monastery, and recognised in the foremost fugitive Kökényesdi.

"It is all up with us!" cried the robber chief from afar, "we are surrounded. All the parsons in the world have become soldiers, and turned their swords against us as if they were Bibles. The Calvinist pastor, the Catholic friar, the Greek priest, and the Unitarian minister—every man jack of them has placed himself at the head of the faithful, and are coming against us with at least twenty thousand men: students, artisans and peasants, the whole swarm is rushing upon us. I and fifty more were set upon by the whole Guild of Shoemakers, who cut down twenty of my men; they were all as mad as hatters, and when the peasants had done with us, the gentlemen took us up: they united with the German dragoons, and pursued my flying army on horseback. Every bit of booty, every slave they have torn from us; this Calvinist Joshua is always close on my heels, not a single one of our infantry can be saved."

The robber chief behaved as the leader of robber bands usually do behave. When he had to fight, he fought among the foremost; but when he had to run, then also he was well to the front. When he was beaten, he cared not a jot whether the others got off scot-free, he only thought of saving himself.

When he had announced the catastrophe from horseback to the terrified Szénasi, he clapped spurs to his nag, and, without looking back to see whether anyone was following him, he galloped off, and left Szénasi in the lurch with the footmen.

The fox is always most crafty when he falls into the snare. The perplexed hypocrite perceived that however quickly he might try to escape, the cavalry would overtake him at Grosswardein and mow him down. Unfortunately, he knew not how to ride, and therefore could not hope to save himself that way. Already the trumpets of the Transylvanian bands were blaring all around him; fiery beacons of pitchy pines were beginning to blaze out from mountain-top to mountain-top; on every road were visible the flying comrades of Kökényesdi, terrifying one another with their shouts of alarm as they rushed through the woods and valleys, not daring to take refuge among the snowy Alps, where the axes of the enraged Wallachians flashed before their eyes; and there was not a single road on which they did not run the risk of being trampled down by the Hungarian banderia and the German dragoons.

In that moment of despair Szénasi quickly flung himself into the garments of a peasant, climbed up to the top of a tree, and as soon as he perceived the first band of German horsemen approaching him, he called out to them.

"God bless you, my noble gentlemen!"

They looked up at these words and told the man to come down from the tree.

"No doubt you also have taken refuge from the robbers, poor man!"

"Ah! most precious gentlemen! they were not robbers, but German soldiers in Hungarian uniforms who had been sent hither from Szathmár. Take care how you pursue them, for if your German soldiers should meet theirs, it might easily happen that they would join together against you. I heard what they were saying as I understand their language, but I pretended that I did not understand; and while they made me come with them to show them the road, they began talking among themselves, and they said that they had had sure but secret information from the Klausenburg dragoons that they were going to attack the town. The Devil never sleeps, my noble gentlemen!"

The good gentlemen were astounded; the intelligence was not altogether improbable, and as, just before, a vagabond had been captured who could speak nothing but German, a mad rumour spread like wild-fire among the Magyars that the dragoons had an understanding with the enemy and wanted to draw them into an ambush; and so the gentlemen told the students, and the students told the mechanics, and by the time it reached the ears of Ebéni and the parsons, there was something very like a mutiny in the army. The gentry suggested that the Germans should be deprived of their swords and horses; the students would have fought them there and then; but the most sensible idea came from the Guild of Cobblers, who would have waited till they had lain down to sleep and then bound and gagged them one by one.

Master Szénasi meanwhile went and hunted up the dragoons, whom he found full of zeal for the good cause entrusted to them, and had a talk with them.

"Gentlemen!" said he, "what a pity it is, but look now at these Hungarian gentlemen! Well, they are shaking their fists at you, so look to yourselves. Someone has told them that you are acting in concert with the people of Szathmár, so they won't go a step further until they have first massacred the whole lot of you."

At this the German soldiers were greatly embittered. Here they were, they said, shedding their blood for Transylvania, and the only reward they got was to be called traitors! So they sounded the alarm, collected their regiments together, took up a defensive position, and for a whole hour the camp of Mr. Ebéni was thrown into such confusion that nothing was easier for Master Szénasi than to hide himself among the fugitives. All night long Mr. Ebéni suffered all the tortures of martyrdom. At one time he was besieged by a deputation from the Magyars, who demanded satisfaction, confirmation, and Heaven only knows what else; while the worthy parsons kept rushing from one end of the camp to the other, with great difficulty appeasing the uproar, enlightening the half-informed, and in particular solemnly assuring both parties that neither the Hungarian gentlemen wanted to hurt the Germans nor the Germans the Hungarians, till light began to dawn on them, and the reconciled parties were convinced, much to their astonishment, that the whole alarm was the work of a single crafty adventurer who clearly enough had gained time to escape from the pursuers when they had him in their very clutches.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE SLAVE MARKET AT BUDA-PESTH.

As soon as the first of the Turks had well intoxicated himself with the sight of the sumptuous wares, he hastened back to get his money and come again, telling the dozen or so of his acquaintances whom he met on the way what sort of a spectacle he had seen with no little enthusiasm, and in a very short time hundreds more were hastening to this ship which offered Paradise itself for sale.

Hassan Pasha, the then Governor of Buda, perceiving the throng from the windows of his palace, and ascertaining the cause, sent his favourite Yffim Beg to forbid the market to the mob till he, the general, had chosen for himself what girls he wanted; and if there was any one of the slave-girls worthy of consideration, he was to buy her for his harem.

Yffim Beg hastened to announce the prohibition, and when the skiffs had departed one by one from the ship, he got into the general's curtained gondola and had himself rowed over to the ship of Haji Baba.

The man-seller, perceiving the state gondola on its way to him, went to the ship's side, and waited with a woe-begone face till it had come alongside, and stretched forth his long neck to Yffim Beg that he might clamber up it on to the deck.

The Beg, with great condescension, informed the merchant that he had come on behalf of the Vizier of Buda, who was over all the Pashas of Hungary, to choose from among the wares he had for sale.

Haji Baba, on hearing this, immediately cast himself to the ground and blessed the day which had risen on these hills, and the water and the oars which had brought the Beg thither, and even the mother who had made the slippers in which Yffim Beg had mounted his ship.

Then he kissed the Beg's hand, and having, as a still greater sign of respect, boxed the ears of the eunuch who happened to be nearest to the Beg, for his impertinence in daring to stand so near at all, led Yffim into the most secret of his secret chambers. Heavy gold-embroidered hangings defended the entry to the interior of the ship; after this came a second curtain of dark-red silk, and through this were already audible sweet songs and twittering, and when this curtain was drawn aside by its golden tassels, a third muslin-like veil still stood in front of the entrance through which one could look into the room beyond without being seen by those inside.

Fourteen damsels were sporting with one another. Some of them darting in and out from between the numerous Persian curtains suspended from the ceiling, and laughing aloud when they caught each other; one was strumming a mandoline; five or six were dancing a round dance to the music of softly sung songs; another group was swinging one another on a swing made from costly shawls. All of them were so young, all of them were of such superior loveliness, that if the heart had allowed the eye alone to choose for it, mere bewilderment would have made selection impossible.

Yffim Beg gazed for a long time with the indifference of a connoisseur, but even his face relaxed at last, and smilingly tapping the merchant on the shoulder, he said to him:

"You have been filching from Paradise, Haji Baba!"

Haji Baba crossed his hands over his breast and shook his head humbly.

"All these girls are my pupils, sir. There is not one of them who resembles her dear mother. From their tenderest youth they have grown up beneath my fostering care; I do no business with grown-up, captured slave-girls, for, as a rule, they only weep themselves to death, grow troublesome, wither away before their time, and upset all the others. I buy the girls while they are babies; it costs a mint of money and no end of trouble before such a flower expands, but at least he who plucks it has every reason to rejoice. Look, sir, they are all equally perfect! Look at that slim lily there dancing on the angora carpet! Did you ever see such a figure anywhere else? How she sways from side to side like the flowering branch of a banyan tree! That is a Georgian girl whom I purchased before she was born. Her father when he married had not money enough for the wedding-feast, so he came to me and sold for a hundred denarii the very first child of his that should be born. Yes, sir, not much money, I know, but suppose the child had never been born? And suppose it had been a son! And how often too, and how easily I might have been cheated! I am sure you could not say that five hundred ducats was too much for her if I named that price. Look, how she stamps down her embroidered slippers! Ah, what legs! I don't believe you could find such round, white, smooth little legs anywhere else! Her price, sir, is six hundred ducats."

Yffim Beg listened to the trader with the air of a connoisseur.

"Or, perhaps, you would prefer that melancholy virgin yonder, who has sought solitude and is lying beneath the shade of that rose-tree? Look, sir, what a lot of rose-trees I have all about the place! My girls can never bear to be without rose-trees, for roses go best with damsels, and the fragrance of the rose is the best teacher of love. That Circassian girl yonder was captured along with her father and mother; the husband, a rough fellow, slew his wife lest she should fall into our hands, but he had no time to kill his child, for I took her, and now I would not sell her for less than seven hundred ducats; there's no hurry, for she is still quite a child."

Here Yffim Beg growled something or other.

"Now that saucy damsel swinging herself to and fro on the shawl," continued the dealer, "I got in China, where her parents abandoned her in a public place. She does not promise much at first sight, but touch her and you'll fancy you are in contact with warm velvet. I would let you have her, sir, for five hundred ducats, but I should charge anyone else as much again."

Yffim Beg nodded approvingly.

"And now do you see that fair damsel who, with a gold comb, is combing out tresses more precious than gold; she came to me from the northern islands, from a ship which the Kapudan Pasha sent to the bottom of the sea. I don't ask you if you ever saw such rich fair tresses before, but I do ask you whether you ever saw before a mortal maid with such a blindingly fair face? When she blushes, it is just as if the dawn were touching her with rosy finger-tips."

"Yes, but her face is painted," said Yffim Beg suspiciously.

"Painted, sir!" exclaimed Haji Baba with dignity. "Painted faces at my shop! Very well! come and convince yourself."

And, tearing aside the muslin veil, he entered the apartment with Yffim Beg.

At the sight of the men a couple of the charming hoydens rushed shrieking behind the tapestries, and only after a time poked their inquisitive little heads through the folds of the curtains; but the Georgian beauty continued to dance; the Chinese damsel went on swinging more provocatively than ever; the beauty from the northern islands allowed her golden tresses to go on playing about her shoulders; a fresh, tawny gipsy-girl, in a variegated, elaborately fringed dress, with ribbons in her curly hair, stood right in front of the approaching Beg, eyed him carefully from top to toe, seized part of his silken caftan, and rubbed it between her fingers, as if she wanted to appraise its value to a penny; while a tiny little negro girl with gold bracelets round her hands and legs, fumigated the entering guest with ambergris, naïvely smiling at him all the time with eyes like pure enamel and lips as red as coral.

The robber-chapman was right, there was not one of these girls who felt ashamed. They looked at the purchaser with indifference and even complacency, and everyone of them tried to please him in the hope that he would take them where they would have lots of jewels and fine clothes, and slaves to wait on them.

Haji Baba led the Beg to the above-mentioned beauty, and raising the edge of her white garment and displaying her blushing face, rubbed it hard, and when the main texture remained white, he turned triumphantly to the seller.

"Well, sir! I sell painted faces, do I? Do you suppose that every orthodox shah, emir, and khan would have any confidence in me if I did? Will you not find in my garden those flowers which the Sultana Valideh presents to the greatest of Emperors on his birthday, and which in a week's time the Sultan gives in marriage to those of his favourite Pashas whom he delights to honour? Why, I don't keep Hindu bayaderes simply because they stain their teeth with betel-root and orange yellow, and gild their eyebrows; accursed be he who would improve upon what Allah created perfect! The black girl is lovely because she is black, the Greek because she is brown, the Pole because she is pale, and the Wallach because she is ruddy; there are some who like blonde, and some who like dark tresses; and fire dwells in blue eyes as well as in black; and God has created everything that man may rejoice therein."

While the worthy man-filcher was thus pouring himself forth so enthusiastically, Yffim Beg, with a very grave face, was gazing round the apartment, drawing aside every curtain and gazing grimly at the dwellers behind them, who, clad in rich oriental garments, were reclining on divans, sucking sugar-plums and singing songs.

Haji Baba was at his back the whole time, and had so much to say of the qualifications of every damsel they beheld, that the Turkish gentleman must have been sorely perplexed which of them to choose.

He had got right to the end of the apartment, when unexpectedly peeping into the remotest corner, he beheld a damsel who seemed to be entirely different from all the rest. She was wrapped in a simple white wadding-like garment, only her head was visible; and when the Beg turned towards her, both his eyes and his mouth opened wide, and he stood rooted to the spot before her.

It was the face of the Queen in the Kingdom of Beauty. Never had he seen such a look, such burning, glistening, flashing eyes as hers! The proud, free temples, beneath which two passionate eyebrows sparkled like rainbows, even without a diadem dispensed majesty. At the first glance she seemed as savage as Diana surprised in her bath, at the next she was as timorous as the flying Daphne; gradually a tender smile transformed her features, she looked in front of her with a dazed expression like betrayed Sappho gazing at the expanse of ocean in which she would fain extinguish her burning love.

"Chapman!" cried the Beg, scarce able to contain himself for astonishment, "would you deceive me by hiding away from me a houri stolen from heaven?"

"I assure you, sir," said the chapman, with a look of terror, "that it were better for you if you turned away and thought of her no more."

"Haji Baba, beware! if perchance you would sell her to another, or even keep her for yourself, you run the risk of losing more than you will ever make up again."

"I tell you, sir, by the beard of my father, look not upon that woman."

"Hum! Some defect perhaps!" thought Yffim to himself, and he beckoned to the girl to let down her garment. She immediately complied, and, standing up, stripped her light mantle from her limbs.

Ah! how the Beg's eyes sparkled. He half believed that what he saw was not human, but a vision from fairy-land. The damsel's shape was as perfect as a marble statue carved expressly for the altar of the Goddess of Love, and the silver hoop encircling her body only seemed to be there as a girdle in order to show how much whiter than silver was her body.

"Curses on your tongue, vile chatterer!" said Yffim Beg, turning upon the chapman. "Here have you been wasting an hour of my time with your empty twaddle, and hiding the beauties of Paradise from my gaze. What's the price of this damsel?"

"Believe me, sir, she won't do for you."

"What! thou man-headed dog! Dost fancy thou hast to do with beggars who cannot give thee what thou askest? I come hither to buy for Hassan Pasha, the Governor of Buda, who is wont to give two thousand ducats to him who asks him for one thousand."

At these words the damsel's face was illuminated by an unwonted smile, and at that moment her large, fiery eyes flashed so at Yffim Beg that his eyes could not have been more blinded if he had been walking on the seashore and two suns had flashed simultaneously in his face, one from the sky and the other from the watery mirror.

"It is not that," said the slave merchant, bowing himself to the ground; "on the contrary, I'll let you have the damsel so cheaply that you will see from the very price that I had reserved her for one of the lowest mushirs, in case he should take a fancy to her—you shall have her for a hundred dinars."

"Thou blasphemer, thou! Dost thou cheapen in this fashion the masterpieces of Nature. Thou shouldst ask ten thousand dinars for her, or have a stroke on the soles of thy feet with a bamboo for every dinar thou askest below that price."

The merchant's face grew dark.

"Take her not, sir," said he; "you will be no friend to yourself or to your master if you would bring her into his harem."

"I suppose," said the Beg, "that the damsel has a rough voice, and that is why she is going so cheaply?" and he ordered her to sing a song to him if she knew one.

"Ask her not to do that, sir!" implored the chapman. But, already, he was too late. At the very first word the girl had laid hold of a mandolin, and striking the chords till they sounded like the breeze on an æolian harp, she began to sing in the softest, sweetest, most ardent voice an Arab love-song: