CONCLUSION
CHAPTER I
When Count Vavel returned from his skirmish with De Fervlans’s demons, he sent his betrothed at once to Raab, with instructions not to separate herself again from Marie.
He had not been able to accompany Katharina on her journey, as he had received marching orders immediately on his return to camp. On parting with his betrothed, however, he had promised to pay a visit to her and Marie at an early day, and to write to both of them daily.
The first part of his promise he had not been able to fulfil; his time was too fully occupied with the duties of the field. But he sent frequent messages to his loved ones; while every day, no matter where he might be, he would be sure to receive his letter from Raab—one sheet covered to the edges with Katharina’s writing, and the other with Marie’s.
Their letters were always cheerful, and filled with hope and confidence for the future. Ludwig fancied he could see the scene as Katharina described it, when Marie had opened the steel casket.
He knew just how delighted the young girl had been when she beheld nothing but ashes instead of the little garments, the documents, the portraits, the bank-notes; and he could hear her joyous laugh on finding herself relieved of the burden of her greatness. But what he could not hear was Katharina reciting his brave exploits during the fierce struggle on the Hansag, a recital Marie insisted on hearing every day.
Then the two, Marie and Katharina, would go every morning to church, to pray for Ludwig, to ask God to protect him, and bring him safely back to them. This was their daily pleasure and consolation.
Then came the bloody days of Karako, Papa, Raab, and Acs. The militia troops took active part in all these battles, and proved themselves valiant warriors.
Vavel with his Volons had been assigned to Mesko’s brigade, and had shared its adventurous march from Abda, around Lake Balaton to Veszprim. Here he found his spy and scout, Master Matyas, awaiting him.
For weeks he had not had a word from his loved ones. When he had sent them to Raab he believed he had selected a secure haven for them, but the course which events had taken proved that he had made a mistake in his calculations. Katharina and Marie were now surrounded on all sides by the enemy.
It was while he was oppressed with these gloomy thoughts that his spy and scout suddenly appeared before him. Noah in his ark had not looked more longingly for the dove than had he for his brave Matyas.
“Well, Master Matyas, what news?”
“All sorts, Herr Count.”
“Good or bad?”
“Well, mixed. Both good and bad. I will leave the good till the last. To begin: Poor Satan Laczi was buried yesterday—may God have mercy on his sinful soul! They fired three salvos over his grave, and the primate himself said the prayers for his soul. If Satan Laczi himself could have seen it all, he could hardly have believed that so much honor would be shown to his dead body. Poor Laczi! His last words were a greeting to his kind patron.”
“His life closed well!” observed the count. “He got what he longed for—a soldier’s death. But tell me what you know about Raab.”
“I know all about it. I come from there.”
“Ah, did you see them? Has not the enemy besieged the city?”
“Yes; the city as well as the fortress is in the hands of the enemy, and the baroness and the princess are both in it.”
“Who told you to call her a princess?” demanded Count Vavel, his face darkening.
“I will come to that all in good time,” composedly replied Matyas, who was not to be hurried. “Colonel Pechy,” he went on, “bravely defended the fortress for ten days against the Frenchmen; but he had to yield at last—”
“Where are Katharina and Marie?” impatiently interrupted Vavel. “What became of them when the city capitulated?”
“All in good time, Herr Count, all in good time! I can tell you all about them, for I am just come from them.”
“Were they in any danger?”
“Danger? No, indeed! When the city surrendered they were concealed in a house where they passed as the nieces of the Herr Vice-palatine Görömbölyi.”
“Is the vice-palatine with them now?”
“Certainly. He has surrendered, too.”
“Excellent man! Who commands the Frenchmen at Raab?”
“General Guillaume—”
“General Guillaume?” excitedly interrupted Vavel.
“Yes, certainly; Guillaume—that is his name. And he is a very polite gentleman. He does not ill-treat the citizens; on the contrary, the very next day after he entered the city he gave a ball in the large hotel, and invited all the distinguished citizens with their wives and daughters. The Herr Count’s dear ones also received an invitation.”
“As the nieces of the vice-palatine, of course?”
“Not exactly! I saw the invitation-card, and it was to ‘Madame la Comtesse de Alba, avec la Princesse Marie.’ ”
“Princess Marie?” echoed Vavel.
“As I tell you; and that is how I come to know she is a princess.”
Vavel’s brain seemed paralyzed. He could not even think.
“The vice-palatine,” nonchalantly continued Matyas, “protested that a mistake had been made; but the French general replied that he knew very well who the ladies were, and that he had received instructions how to treat them. From that day, two French grenadiers began to guard the baroness’s door, day and night, just exactly as if they were standing guard over a potentate.”
Vavel paced the floor, mute with rage and fear.
“Why did I desert them!” he exclaimed at last, in desperation. “Why did I not do as Marie wished—flee with her and Katharina into the wide world—we three alone!”
“Well, you see you did n’t, and this is the way matters stand now,” responded Master Matyas. “The general’s adjutant visits the house twice every day to inquire after the ladies; then he reports to his superior.”
“If only Cambray had not died!” ejaculated the count.
“Yes, but I helped to bury him, too,” added Matyas, shaking his head.
“Yes, so I was told. How did you manage to get the body from behind the metal screen?”
“Oh, that was easy enough. You know the spring is connected with the bell in your study; when the screen unrolled, the bell rang. It was only necessary to reverse the operation: by pulling the bell-wire in the Herr Count’s study the screen was rolled up.”
“A very simple arrangement, indeed,” observed Count Vavel, smiling in spite of his gloom. “Ah, Master Matyas, if only you were clever enough to open for me the locks which now imprison my dear ones! That would be a masterpiece, indeed!”
“I can do that easily enough,” was the confident rejoinder.
“You can? How?”
“Didn’t I say I would leave the good news until the last?”
“Yes, yes. Tell me what you have in view.”
“I must whisper the secret in your ear; I have often overheard important secrets listening at the keyhole or while hiding under a bed, and what I have done another may be doing.”
Vavel bent his head so that Master Matyas might whisper the important information in his ear.
The words were few, but they served to restore Vavel to a cheerful mood.
He laughed heartily, slapped Master Matyas on the shoulder, and exclaimed:
“You are truly a wonderful fellow!” Then he took a roll of bank-notes from his pocket, and pressed it into Matyas’s hand. “Here—take these, and buy what is necessary. We will make the attempt at once.”
Master Matyas thrust the money into his own pocket, and darted from the room as if he had stolen it. Ludwig hastened to his general, to beg for leave of absence.