evidently seemed to him so inexplicable that he
should be arraigned upon so frightful a charge
as having treacherously caused the death of his
comrades, that he had scarcely been able hitherto
to realize the horror of his position. He roused
up a little, however, at my address, and after a
short pause began to speak. I remember his
words well, for his speech struck me as one of
remarkable ability for a man in his station.

"Major and gentlemen," said he, saluting the
court, " I know that whatever I may say won't
be of any use, for it seems as if everything was
against me. I must die by my comrades' fire as
a coward and a traitor, where I'd willingly have
given every drop of blood in my body to have
saved even one of them. I'm not afraid of death,
I've looked him too often in the face for that;
but I do shudder at the thought that those by
whose side I've lived and fought for years will
curse my memory after I'm gone. That's a
dreadful thing to die with upon one's mind, and
more than all, because as I hope for everlasting
salvation, I'm as innocent of the charges brought
against me as any one of your honours can be.
Except that I cut down the lieutenant—I did
that, it's true; but I put it to you, gentlemen,
whether if any of you were to see the girl you
loved struck aside and injured, you wouldn't
have acted as I did? But that's not the point
so much as the charge that by leaving my post
I betrayed my comrades. That's what weighs
upon my mind, and it's that in particular I want
to explain.

"When the sergeant left me on sentry I
dismounted, feeling cold, tied my horse to a tree,
and marched up and down for, I dare say, a
matter of an hour, looking every now and then
at the town here, where the lights in the windows
were gradually disappearing, and everything
getting quiet. I was thinking we should
have an easier job in surprising the place than
we had fancied, and you may be sure it was the
very last of my thoughts that any one I cared a
pipe of tobacco about was among the inhabitants.
I hadn't heard from home for months—in fact,
since the beginning of the war—and not the
least idea my poor father had removed here
entered my mind.

"As I said, major, I marched up and down
about an hour, when I thought I heard a rustle
in the bushes near. ' Halt!' thinks I, ' let's
keep quiet a bit, and see who goes there.' So
I stepped behind the tree to which my horse
was tied, and watched. In a minute or two, out
came a woman, whose face I couldn't see for her
hood, and she was making off towards the town,
when I sang out to her to stop, or I should fire.
She started, as you may suppose, to see a
soldier so near, when she didn't know there was
one within miles of the place, and waited till I
came up to her. I was just asking what brought
her into the wood at that time of night, and
telling her she was my prisoner, when she gave
a scream, called out my name, and jumped upon
my neck. Then, major, I discovered she was
my cousin, Carlin Karobyi, to whom I was
promised before I had to serve. From her I heard
that my father and all the family had come to
Szentes a year ago; that he had been chosen
syndic, and was now very ill; that she had been
sent by my mother to a place some miles away
to fetch a celebrated herb-doctor who had made
some wonderful cures, as a last hope; but that
she found he had been killed and his house
plundered by Jellachich's Croats the day before,
and was now getting back to Szentes as fast as
she could.

"You may think, gentlemen, what terrible
news this was to me. First, my father very ill,
and not likely to survive the night; next, my
mother, and sister, and poor Carlin in a place
we were going to attack, and I knowing only
too well what they might expect from the
Lichtensteiners when their blood was up. Carlin
begged and prayed me to come with her into the
town to see my father once more before he
died; and when I told her it was impossible I
could leave my post, she assured me that I
should soon be back again and nothing need be
found out. Then I began to think, too, the
thing might be managed, if she could only get
me into the town without being seen; for that,
if I could not get back in time, it would be
thought, when the advance took place, that I
had fallen in with the rest, and I should then be
able to protect the women after the town was
taken. In talking with Carlin, we had got near
Szentes, and I clean forgot all about my horse
being tied to the tree, and that being found
there I should be thought to have deserted.

"Well, gentlemen, to make my story short,
I agreed to go with Carlin, as she promised I
should be back in half an hour. The lights
were all out as we got into the place; there
wasn't a soul stirring, and we reached my
father's house unseen. When we entered, Carlin
told my mother and sister that I had come with
her, and after a bit I went in to my father.
How they found out in the town that the
Lichtensteiners were in the wood and on the
bank of the river, I don't know. Perhaps my
mother can tell you. All I do know is that my
father kept fast hold of my hand till he died,
and wouldn't let me go. And the first I knew
of the attack was from the firing outside, and
afterwards the trumpet sounding the assembly.
Then came the lieutenant and our men, and you
know what has just happened."

Rather to test the truth of Szelády's story
for my own satisfaction than for any benefit its
confirmation would be to him, I summoned
the mother, and tried to discover from her
how our occupation of the wood had become
known in Szentes. From her statement, it
appeared that a neighbour, who was in the
house when Carlin Karobyi told her aunt and
cousin of Michael's arrival, must have overheard
the story and communicated it to the
leaders of the peasants in the town. Michael's
account of the reason which had brought him to
Szentes was, therefore, very probably true, and
he was absolved from the black treachery of
having intentionally betrayed his comrades; but
the fact of his having undoubtedly abandoned