benefits which might result to him from having
possession of the prelate's horse. It occurred
to him that the boldest course would be the
best, and that if he the very next morning
mounted the horse, and, wearing the prelate's
hat, presented himself in the neighbourhood of
the palace, it was most likely the prelate, or
perhaps even the countess, would pay a heavy
price for the redemption of their property.

And so at the sunrise he sprang into the
saddle, put the hat upon his head, and rode
directly towards the palace, in order to parade
in the palace court. The count was taking his
accustomed morning walk when Janko passed
through the long tree-sided alley. He was
quite astounded when he recognised the horse
and the hat of his highly honoured cousin. He
beckoned to the rider, and inquired how he
had obtained possession of both.

The crafty fellow, who perceived that
matters were proceeding quite according to his
wishes, answered very meekly that the history
of the manner in which he had become possessed
of these his belongings would not be very
pleasing to the owner of the castle, and he
would rather refrain from narrating matters
which concerned somewhat closely the honour
of that noble person.

This two-sided answer fell like a lightning
flash upon the count, and the remembrance
burst upon him of some familiarities of his
bride towards her cousin which had awakened
suspicion in his mind. He felt disposed to
admit the stranger into his confidence, and
offered him a large reward if he would
communicate all he knew.

Janko, who had already foreseen what was to
happen, took advantage of his position, and,
after some rather seeming than real hesitation,
he narrated what he had witnessed in the
count's garden when concealed in the pear-
tree, and how he had obtained possession of the
noble horse and the hat.

Janko's narrative, so singular and so
staggering, was so unanswerable that the count
determined, as the wisest course, to put the
sinners to open shame. He presented to Janko
a handful or gold, desired he would take quarters
for himself and his horse at a neighbouring
inn, and, after clothing himself in a brilliant
uniform which the count promised to send him,
that he would present himself at the table an
invited guest, as a captain of cavalry, and would
there avail himself of an opportunity, which
would be given him, of exposing, in an allegorical
form, yet so as not possibly to be
misunderstood, the infamous doings of two of the
company.

Janko bowed compliance, and hastened to the
hotel, where he waited the further instructions
of the count.

Morning dawned, and one of the count's
servants presented himself to Janko, bringing
with him a splendid costume, a sabre, and all
the belongings of a Hussar officer. The servant
bowed respectfully to the stranger, and handed
to him the formal invitation of his master.

With becoming care and diligence Janko
dressed himself. He wondered at his own
stately appearance, and had no conception that
it would have been so attractive. The dinner
bell struck, and he hastened on his way to the
castle.

He was very cordially received by his host,
and found himself in the midst of a numerous
company, and that a distinguished seat was
appointed for him immediately opposite those
filled by the prelate and the countess. The
rich odours of the food, the noble hospitality,
the most warm welcome, and, above all, the
influence of the grape-juice with which his
glass was instantly replenished, all helped his
eloquence, and disposed him to give emphatic
utterance to his thoughts. So, after he had
amused the guests with histories of the many
warlike adventures which he had witnessed in
his military life, the count broke in, saying,
"Willingly I hear repeated the tales of wars
and battles, for in my youth I was familiar with
the clang of arms; but now I had rather listen
to some love story; and has our brave soldier
none such to tell? for these have a character
of their own; they interest everybody; and any
love story told by a soldier must have a special
charm."

The words were scarcely uttered when the
wine-inspired guest broke out:

"There lives a count in Hungary,
A rich and noble man is he;
She played him false in marriage life,
That treacherous wife—that treacherous wife!
That treacherous wife, in beauty ripe,
Does she not merit many a stripe?
Why did her beauty go astray?
And why her faithful lord betray?
The noble count went hunting far,
'Neath shining moon and travelling star.
He had a cousin, trusted much,
And could he prove a traitor such?
Do pear-trees in the garden grow?
And are there shady seats below?
And, were they asked a tale to tell,
Could they not answer? Ah! too well!"

Blushes deeper and deeper, hotter and hotter,
covered the cheeks of the countess. She hung
down her head, and everybody noticed her
embarrassment and confusion. Her sturdy
neighbour's countenance was disturbed. He looked
as if a hard bone had broken his teeth, and
covered his face with his hand as if in agony,
while Janko continued his love story:

" If pear-trees green, if shady seat,
Refuse to give an answer meet,
Was there not seated in the tree
A lynx-eyed youth? and ask what he
Could tell us of an amorous pair,
Conversing, courting, kissing there!
Find out that youth, and, on his oath,
He'll tell a pretty tale of both."

While the countess endeavoured to conceal
her agonised emotions, her heart was heard to
beat, and she looked up for an instant full of
terror, as if she expected another thunder-storm
to burst over her head, like that terrible pelting
when the pears fell down from Janko's wallet.