Whereupon Yffim Beg arose without saying a word and withdrew, deeply pondering the words of the slave-dealer. But Haji Baba that same night drew up his anchors, and at dawn he had vanished from the Danube, none knew whither.

CHAPTER X.
THE MARGARET ISLAND.

Oh, that woman is a veritable dream! Since he possessed her Hassan Pasha is no longer a man, but a piece of wax which receives the impression of her ideas. He hears nothing but her voice, and sees nothing but her. Already they are beginning to say that Hassan Pasha no longer recognizes a man ten feet off, and is no longer able to distinguish between the sound of the drum and the sound of the trumpet. And it is true, but whoever said so aloud would be jeopardizing his head, for Hassan would conceal his failings for fear of being deprived of the command of the army if they became generally known.

All the better does Yffim Beg see and hear, Yffim Beg who is constantly about Azrael; if he were not such an old and faithful favourite of Hassan Pasha he might almost regret that he has such good eyes and ears. But Azrael's penetrating mind knows well enough that Yffim Beg's head stands much more firmly on his shoulders than stand the heads of those whom Hassan Pasha sacrifices to her whims, so she flatters him, and it is all the worse for him that she does flatter.

Hassan Pasha, scarce waiting for the day to end and dismissing all serious business, sat him down in his curtained pinnace, known only to the dwellers on the fairy island, and had himself rowed across to his hidden paradise, where, amidst two hundred attendant damsels, Azrael, the loveliest of the living, awaits him in the hall of the fairy kiosk, round whose golden trellis work twine the blooms of a foreign sky.

Yffim Beg alone accompanies the Pasha thither.

The Governor, after embracing the odalisk, strolled thoughtfully through the labyrinth of fragrant trees where the paths were covered by coloured pebbles and a whole army of domesticated birds made their nests in the trees. Yffim Beg follows them at a little distance, and not a movement escapes his keen eyes, not so much as a sigh eludes his sharp ears; he keeps a strict watch on all that Azrael does and says.

In the midst of their walk—they hadn't gone a hundred paces—a falcon rose before them from among the trees and perched on a poplar close by.

"Look, sir, what a beautiful falcon!" cried Yffim Beg.

Azrael laughed aloud and looked back.

"Oh, my good Beg, how canst thou take a wood-pigeon for a falcon? why it was a wood-pigeon."

"I took good note of it, Azrael, and there it is sitting on that poplar."

"Why, that's better still—now he calls a nut-tree a poplar. Eh, eh! worthy Beg, thou must needs have been drinking a little to see so badly."

"Well, that was what I fancied," said the Beg, much perplexed, and for the life of him not perceiving the point of the jest. Why should the odalisk make a fool of him so?

"But look then, my love," said Azrael, appealing to the Pasha; "thou didst see that bird fly away from the tree yonder, was it not a wood-pigeon flying from a nut-tree?"

Hassan saw neither the tree nor the bird, but he pretended he did, and agreed with the odalisk.

"Of course it was a wood-pigeon and a nut-tree."

Yffim Beg did not understand it at all.

They went on further, and presently Yffim Beg again spoke.

"Shall we not turn, my master, towards that beautiful arcade of rose-trees?"

Azrael clapped her hands together in amazement.

"What! an arcade of roses! Where is it?"

"Turn in that direction and thou wilt see it."

"These things! Why if he isn't taking some sumach trees full of berries for an arcade of rose-trees!"

Hassan Pasha laughed. As for Yffim Beg he was lost in amazement—why did this damsel choose to jest with him in this fashion?

At that moment a cannon shot resounded from the Pesth shore.

"Ah!" said the Pasha, stopping, "a cannon shot!"

"Yes, my master," said Yffim, "from the direction of Pesth."

"From Pesth indeed," said Azrael, "it was from Buda; it was the signal for closing the gate."

"I heard it plainly."

"Excuse me, my good Beg, but thy hearing is as bad as thy sight. I am beginning to be anxious about thee. How could it be from the direction of Pesth when the whole camp has crossed over to Buda?"

"Maybe a fresh host has arrived, which now awaits us."

"Come," cried Azrael, seizing Hassan's hand, "we will find out at once who is right;" and she hastened with them to the shore of the island.

On the further bank the camp of Feriz Beg was visible; they were just pitching their tents on the side of the hills. A company of cavalry was just going down to the water's-edge, at whose head ambled a slim young man whose features were immediately recognised, even at that distance, both by the favourite Beg and the favourite damsel.

Only Hassan saw nothing; in the distance everything was to him but a blur of black and yellow.

"Well, what did I say?" exclaimed Yffim Beg triumphantly; "that is the camp of Feriz Beg, and there is Feriz himself trotting in front of them."

The words were scarce out of his mouth when the terrible thought occurred to him that Azrael had no business to be looking upon this strange man.

The odalisk, laughing loudly, flung herself on Hassan's neck.

"Ha, ha, ha! the worthy Beg takes the water-carrying girls for an army!"

Then Yffim Beg began to tremble, for he perceived now whither this woman wanted to carry her joke.

"My master," said he, "forbid thy slave-girl to make a fool of me. The camp of Feriz Beg is straight in front of us, and thou wilt do well to prevent thy maid-servant from looking at these men with her face unveiled."

"Allah! thou dost terrify me, good Beg!" said Azrael, feigning horror so admirably that Hassan himself felt the contagion of it.

"Say! where dost thou see this camp?"

"There, on the water-side; dost thou not see the tents on the hillocks?"

"Surely it is the linen which these girls are bleaching."

"And that blare of trumpets?"

"I only hear the merry songs that the girls are singing."

In his fury Yffim Beg plucked at his beard.

"My master, this devilish damsel is only mocking us."

"Thou art suffering from deliriums," said Azrael, with a terrible face, "or thou art under a spell which makes thee see before thee things which exist not. Contradict me not, I beg; this hath happened to thee once before. Dost thou not remember when thou fleddest from Transylvania how, then also, thou didst maintain that the enemy was everywhere close upon thy heels! Thou also then wert under the spell of a hideous enchantment, for thy eunuch horseman who remained behind at Nagyenyed, and is now a sentinel on this island, hath told me that there was no sign of any enemy for more than twenty leagues around, and he remained waiting for thee for ten days and fancied thou wert mad. Most assuredly some evil sorcery made thee fly before an imaginary enemy without thy turban or tunic."

Yffim Beg grew pale. He felt that he must surrender unconditionally to this infernal woman.

"Was it so, Yffim?" cried Hassan angrily.

"Pardon him, my lord," said Azrael soothingly; "he was under a spell then, as he is now. Thou art bewitched, my good Yffim."

"Really, I believe I am," he stammered involuntarily.

"But I will turn away the enchantment," said the damsel; and tripping down to the water's-edge she moistened her hand and sprinkled the face of the Beg, murmuring to herself at the same time some magic spell. "Now look and see!"

The Beg did all that he was bidden to do.

"Who, then, are these walking on the bank of the Danube?"

"Young girls," stammered the Beg.

"And those things spread out yonder."

"Wet linen."

"Dost thou not hear the songs of the girls?"

"Certainly I do."

"Look now, my master, what wonders there are beneath the sun!" said Azrael, turning towards Hassan Pasha; "is it not marvellous that Yffim should see armies when there is nothing but pretty peasant girls?"

"Miracles proceed from Allah, but methinks Yffim Beg must have very bad sight to mistake maidens for men of war."

Yffim Beg durst not say to Hassan Pasha that he also had bad sight; he might just as well have pronounced his own death sentence at once. Hassan wanted to pretend to see all that his favourite damsel pointed out, and she proceeded to befool the pair of them most audaciously in the intimate persuasion that Hassan would not betray the fact that he could not see, while Yffim Beg was afraid to contradict lest he should be saddled with that plaguy Transylvanian business.

Meanwhile, on the opposite bank, Feriz Beg in a sonorous voice was distributing his orders and making his tired battalions rest, galloping the while an Arab steed along the banks of the Danube. The odalisk followed every movement of the young hero with burning eyes.

"I love to hear the songs of these damsels; dost not thou also, my master?" she inquired of Hassan.

"Oh, I do," he answered hastily.

"Wilt thou not sit down beside me here on the soft grass of the river bank?"

The Pasha sat down beside the odalisk, who, lying half in his bosom, with her arm round his neck, followed continually the movements of Feriz with sparkling eyes.

"Look, my master!" said she, pointing him out to Hassan; "look at that slim, gentle damsel, prominent among all the others, walking on the river's bank. Her eyes sparkle towards us like fire, her figure is lovelier than a slender flower. Ah! now she turns towards us! What a splendid, beauteous shape! Never have I seen anything so lovely. Why may I not embrace her—like a sister—why may I not say to her, as I say to thee, 'I love thee, I live and die for thee?'"

And with these words the odalisk pressed Hassan to her bosom, covering his face with kisses at every word; and he, beside himself with rapture, saw everything which the girl told him of, never suspecting that those kisses, those embraces, were not for him but for a youth to whom his favourite damsel openly confessed her love beneath his very eyes!

And Yffim Beg, amazed, confounded, stood behind them, and shaking his head, bethought him of the words of Haji Baba, "Cast forth that devil, and beware lest she give you away!"

CHAPTER XI.
A STAR IN HELL.

The eunuchs steal softly along the banks of the Margaret Island with their long muskets, and stop still and watch for any suspicious skiff drawing near to the island; and the most wakeful of them is old Majmun, who, even when he is asleep, has one eye open, and in happier times was the guardian of the harem. He sits down on a hillock, and even a carrier-pigeon with a letter under its wings could not have eluded his vigilance. He has only just arrived on the island, having previously accompanied Yffim Beg into Transylvania, and therefore has only seen Azrael once.

His eyes roam constantly around, and his sharp ears detect even the flight of a moth or a beetle, yet suddenly he feels—some one tapping him on the shoulder.

He turns terrified, and behold Azrael standing behind him.

"Accursed be that singing over yonder. I was listening to it, so did not hear thee approach. What dost thou want? Why dost thou come hither in the darkness of night? How didst thou escape from the harem?"

"I prythee be quiet!" said the odalisk. "This evening I went a-boating with my master, and a gold ring dropped from my finger into the water; it was a present from him, and if to-morrow he asks: 'Where is that ornament?' and I cannot show it him, he will slay me. Oh, let me seek for it here in the water."

"Foolish damsel, the water here is deep; it will go over thy head, and thou wilt perish."

"I care not; I must look for it. I must find the ring, or lose my life for it."

And the odalisk said the words in such an agony of despair that the eunuch was quite touched by it.

"Thou shouldst entrust the matter to another."

"If only I could find someone who can dive under the water, I would give him three costly bracelets for it; I would give away all my treasures."

"I can dive," said Majmun, seized by avarice.

"Oh, descend then into the water for me," implored the damsel, falling on her knees before him and covering the horny hand of the slave with her kisses. "But art thou not afraid of being suffocated? For then in the eyes of the governor I should be twice guilty."

"Fear not on my account. In my youth I was a pearl-fisher in the Indian Ocean, and I can remain under water and look about me like a fish, even at night, while thou dost count one hundred. Only show me the place where the ring fell from thy finger."

Azrael drew a pearl necklace from her arm and casting it into the water, pointed at the place where it fell.

"It was on the very spot where I have cast that; if thou dost fetch up both of them for me, the second one shall be thine."

Majmun perceived that this was not exactly a joke, and laying aside his garment and his weapon, bade the damsel look after them, and quickly slipped beneath the water.

In a few seconds the eunuch's terrified face emerged above the water and he struck out for the shore with a horrified expression.

"This is an evil spot," said he; "at the bottom of the water is a heap of human heads."

"I know it," said the odalisk calmly.

The eunuch was puzzled. He gazed up at her, and was astounded to observe that in the place of the sensitive, supplicating figure so lately there, there now stood a haughty, awe-inspiring woman, who looked down upon him like a queen.

"Those heads there are the heads of thy comrades," said Azrael to the astounded eunuch, "whom last night and the preceding nights I asked to do me a service, which they refused to do. Next day I accused them to the governor and he instantly had their heads cut off without letting them speak."

"And what service didst thou require?"

"To swim to the opposite shore and give this bunch of flowers to that youth yonder."

"Ha! thou art a traitor."

"No such thing. All I ask of thee is this: dost thou hear those songs in that grove yonder? Very well, swim thither and give him this posy. If thou dost not, thy head also will be under the water among the heap of the others. But if thou dost oblige me I will make thee rich for the remainder of thy life. It is in thine own power to choose whether thou wilt live happily or die miserably."

"But I have a third choice, and that is to kill thee," cried the eunuch, gnashing his teeth.

Azrael laughed.

"Thou blockhead! Whilst thou wert still under the water it occurred to me to fill thy musket with earth and gird thy dagger to my side. Utter but a cry and thou wilt have no need to wait for to-morrow to lay thy head at thy feet."

At these words the damsel squeezed the eunuch's arm so emphatically that he bent down before her.

"What dost thou command?"

"I have already told thee."

"I am playing with my own head."

"That is not as bad as if I were playing with it."

"What dost thou want of me?"

"I want thee to row me across to the opposite shore."

"There is only one skiff on the island, and in that Yffim Beg is wont to fish."

"Oh, why have I never learnt to swim!" cried Azrael, collapsing in despair.

"What! wouldst thou swim across this broad stream?"

"Yes, and I'll swim across it now, this instant."

"Those are idle words. If thou art not a devil thou wilt drown in this river if thou canst not swim."

"Thou shalt swim with me. I will put one hand on thy shoulder to keep me up."

"Thou art mad, surely! Only just now thou didst threaten me with death, and now thou wouldst trust thy life to me! I need only hold thee under for a second or two to be rid of thee for ever. Water is a terrible element to him who cannot rule over it, the dwellers beneath the waves are merciless."

"By putting my life into thy hands I show thee that I fear thee not. Lead me through the water!"

"Thou art mad, but I still keep my senses. Go back to the Vizier's kiosk while he hath not noticed thy absence. I will not betray thee."

"Then thou wilt not go with me?" said the odalisk darkly.

"May I never see thee again if I do so," said Majmun resolutely, sitting down on a hillock.

"Wretched slave!" cried Azrael in despair, "then I will go myself."

And with that she cast herself into the water from the high bank. Majmun, unable to prevent her leap, plunged in after her and soon emerged with her again on the surface of the water, holding the woman by her long hair.

She suddenly embraced the eunuch with both arms, turned in the water so as to come uppermost and raising her head from the waves, cried fiercely to the submerged eunuch:

"Go to the opposite shore, or we'll drown together."

The eunuch, after a short, desperate struggle, becoming convinced that he could not free himself from the arms of the damsel who held him fast like a gigantic serpent, with a tremendous wrench contrived to bring his head above the water and cried unwillingly:

"I'll lead thee thither."

"Hasten then!" cried Azrael, releasing him from her arms and grasping the woolly pate of the swimmer with one hand; "hasten!"

The eunuch swam onwards. Nothing was to be seen but a white and a black head moving closely together in the darkness and the long tresses of the damsel floating on the surface of the waves.

"Is the bank far?" she presently asked the slave, for she was somewhat behind and could not see in front of her.

"Art thou afraid?"

"I fear that I may not be able to see it."

"We shall be at the other side directly. The stream is broad just now, for the Danube is in flood."

A few minutes later the negro felt firm ground beneath his feet, and the odalisk perceived the branch of a willow drooping above her face. Quickly seizing it, she drew herself out of the water.

Softly and tremulously she ran towards the grove of trees which concealed what she sought, and on perceiving the singer, whose enchanting tones had enticed her across the water, she stood there all quivering, holding back her breath, and with one hand pressed against her bosom.

The young singer was sitting on a silver linden-tree. He had just finished his song, and had placed the lute by his side, and was gazing sadly before him with his handsome head resting against his hand as if he would have summoned back the spirit which had flown far far away on the wings of his melody.

"Now thou canst speak to him," said Majmun to the damsel.

Azrael stood there, leaning against a weeping willow and gazing, motionless, at the youth.

"Hasten, I say. The night is drawing to an end and we have to get back again. Wherefore dost thou hesitate when thou hast come so far for this very thing?"

The odalisk sighed softly, and leant her head against the mossy tree trunk.

"Thou saidst thou wouldst rush to him, embrace his knees, and greet him with thy lips, and now thou dost stand as if rooted to the spot by spells."

The damsel slowly sank upon her knees and hid her face in her garment.

"The girl is really crazy," murmured the negro; "if thou hast come hither only to weep, thou couldst have done that just as well on the other side."

At that moment the voice of a bugle horn rang out from a distance through the silent night, whereupon the singer, suddenly transformed into a warrior, sprang to his feet. It was the first reveille from the camp of Buda to awake the sleepers, and Hariri disappeared to become Feriz Beg again, who, drawing his sword, quickly hastened away from among the willow-trees, and in his hurry forgot his lute beneath a silver birch.

"Thou seest he has departed from thee," cried the negro malevolently, seizing the damsel's hand. "Hasten back with me while yet there is time."

The girl arose—holding her breath as she gazed after the youth—and waited till he had disappeared among the bushes; then she drew forth the wreath of flowers which she had hidden in her bosom, and took a step forward, listening till the retreating footsteps had died away, and then suddenly rushed towards the abandoned lute, pressed it to her heart, covered it with kisses, and fell down beside it filled with agony and rapture.

Then she took the wreath and cast it round the lute, and the wreath was composed of these flowers: A rose. What does a rose signify in the language of love?—"I love thee, I am happy." Then a pomegranate-flower, which signifies: "I love none but thee!" Then a pink, which signifies: "I wither for love of thee." Then a balsam, which signifies: "I dare not approach thee." And, finally, a forget-me-not, which signifies: "Let us live or die together."

This wreath the odalisk fastened together with a lock of her own hair, which signifies: "I surrender my life into thy hands!" For a Turkish woman never allows a lock of her hair to pass into the hand of a stranger, believing, as she does, that whoever possesses it has the power to ruin or slay her, to deprive her either of her reason or her life.

Majmun gazed at her in astonishment. Was this all she had come for through so many terrible dangers?

"Hasten, damsel, with thine incantations," said he, "the camp is now aroused and the dawn is at hand."

Azrael cast a burning kiss with her hand in the direction whither Feriz had disappeared; then returning to the slave, she said, with her usual commanding voice:

"Remain here and count up to six hundred without looking after me, and by that time I shall have come back."

Majmun counted up to six hundred with a loud voice.

Meanwhile, Azrael ran along the dam of the river bank till she came to the sluice, which she raised by the exertion of her full strength. The liberated water began to flow through the opening with a mighty roar.

Then Azrael hastened back to the negro.

"And now for the island," said she.

And once more they traversed the dangerous way, Azrael lying on her back with a hand on the negro's head. In her bosom was a poplar leaf, which afforded her great satisfaction.

On reaching the island Azrael richly recompensed the negro, and said to him:

"To-morrow morning, at dawn, thy master, Yffim Beg, will seek thee and command thee to accompany him and Hassan Pasha across the bridge to the other side where stands the camp of Feriz Beg. Thou wilt find no one there, but look at the place where we were this night, and if thou shouldst find there a nosegay or a wreath, bring it to me!"

Majmun listened with amazement. How could Azrael have found out all about these things?

Azrael returned to the kiosk, where Hassan Pasha was still sleeping the deep sleep of opium. He awoke in the arms of his favourite, and he could not understand why her hands were so cold and her kisses so burning.

The odalisk told him she had been dreaming. She had dreamt that she swam across the river enticed by the singing of the Peris.

Hassan smiled.

"Go on sleeping, and continue thy dream," said he.

The sun was high in the heaven when Hassan Pasha quitted the kiosk. Yffim Beg was awaiting him.

"Wilt thou not ride to Pesth there to mark out the place for the camp of Feriz Beg, who has just arrived?"

Azrael shrewdly guessed that Yffim Beg was for leading the Governor to the Pesth shore to satisfy him as to the peasant girls whom he was said to have mistaken for soldiers by some evil enchantment. She also thought how convenient it would be for her that they should take Majmun with them for the whole day.

Hassan accordingly accepted Yffim's invitation, and galloped with him and Majmun over to the opposite shore, where Yffim was amazed to discover that not a soul of Feriz Beg's host was visible.

In the night the suddenly released water had covered the whole ground of their camp, and they had been obliged to retire farther away from the river and seek another encampment beyond Pesth.

Yffim Beg would have liked to have torn out his beard in his wrath if he had not been restrained by the general's presence.

But Majmun, under the pretext of clearing the way, reconnoitred the scene of yesterday's interview, and there, in the roots of the silver birch, he found that a wreath had been deposited. He concealed it beneath his burnush, and carried it home to Azrael.

The wreath was composed of two pieces—a branch of laurel and a spray of thorn.

The damsel bowed her head before this answer. She knew that it signified: "Suffer if thou wouldst prevail!"

CHAPTER XII.
THE BATTLE OF ST. GOTHARD.

Kiuprile's host consisted for the most part of cavalry, for his infantry was employed in digging trenches round Zerinvár, whose commandant, in reply to an invitation to surrender the fortress and not attempt to defend it with six hundred men against thirty thousand, jestingly responded: "As one Hungarian florin is worth ten Turkish piasters, one Hungarian warrior necessarily must be worth ten Turkish warriors." And what is more, the worthy man made good this rate of exchange, for when the victors came to count up the cost, they found that for six hundred Hungarians they had had to pay six thousand Osmanlis into the hands of his Majesty King Death.

Kiuprile had then pursued the armies of the Emperor, but they refused to stand and fight anywhere; and while their enemies were marching higher and higher up the banks of the Raab, they seemed to be withdrawing farther and farther away on the opposite shore.

The army of the Pasha of Buda should have gone round at the rear of the imperial forces, in order to unite with the Pasha of Érsekújvár, the former having previously cut off every possibility of a retreat; but Hassan, as an independent general, did not follow the directions sent him, simply because they came from Kiuprile, and he also made straight for the Raab by forced marches, in order to wrest the opportunity of victory from his rival.

Thus the two armies came together, on July 30th, below the romantic hills of St. Gothard, each army pitching its tents on the right bank of the river, and occupying the summits of the hills, which commanded a view of the whole region.

And certainly the worthy gentlemen showed no bad taste when they took a fancy to that part of the kingdom. In every direction lay the yellow acres, from which the terrified peasants had not yet reaped the standing corn; to the right were the gay vineyard-clad hills; to the left the dark woods and stretch upon stretch of undulating meadow-land, bisected by the winding ribbon of the Raab. On a hill close by stood the gigantic pillared portico of the Monastery of St. Gothard, with fair pleasure-groves at its base. Farther away were the towers of four or five villages. The setting sun, as if desirous of making the district still more beautiful, enwrapped it in a veil of golden mist.

"Thou dog!" cried Hassan Pasha to the peasant who alone received the terrible guests in the abandoned cloisters, "this region is far too beautiful for the like of you monks to dwell in. But you will not be in it long, my good sirs, for I mean to take it for myself. The peasant after all is lord here. He eats his own bread and he drinks his own wine, and he has a couple of good garments to draw over his head. But stop, things shall be very different, for I shall have a word to say about it."

The honest peasant took off his cap. "God grant," said he, "that more and more of you may dwell in my domains, and that I may build your houses for you." The man was a grave-digger.

Hassan Pasha and his suite occupied the monastery, whose vestibule was filled with priests and magistrates from every quarter of the kingdom, whose duty it was to collect and bring in provisions and taxes due to the Turkish Government. And what they brought in was never sufficient, and therefore the poor creatures had to send deputies as hostages from time to time, who followed their lords on foot wherever they went, and relieved each other from this servitude in rotation; some of them had been here for half a year.

The Turkish army was more than 100,000 strong, and the right bank of the river was planted for a long distance with their tents. The monastery constituted the centre of the camp; there was the encampment of Hassan's favourite mamelukes and the selected corps of cloven-nosed, gigantic negroes, who used to plunge into the combat half-naked, and neither take nor give quarter. Alongside of them was the cavalry of Kucsuk Pasha, a corps accustomed to the strictest discipline. Close beside the tents of this division, within a quadrilateral, guarded by a ditch, you could see the camp of the Amazon Brigade, whose first thought when they pitch their tents is to entrench themselves.

Close to the camp of Kucsuk lies the Moldavian army, from whose elaborate precautions you can gather that they have a far greater fear of their allies all around them than of the foe against whom they are marching. From beyond the monastery, right up to the vineyards of Nagyfalva, the ground is occupied by the noisy Janissaries of Ismail Pasha, who, if their military reputation lies not, are more used to distributing orders to their commanders than receiving orders from them. Beyond the vine-clad hills lies the cavalry of the Grand Vizier, Achmed Kiuprile, and all round about, wherever a column of smoke is to be seen or the sky is blood-red, there is good reason for suspecting that there the marauding Tartar bands are out, whom it was not the habit to attach to the main army. Far in the rear, along the mountain paths, on the slopes of the narrow forest passes, could be seen the endlessly long procession of wagons laden with plunder, intermingled with long round iron cannons and ancient stone mortars, each one drawn along by ten or twelve buffaloes, striving laboriously and painfully to urge their way forward, and if one of them stops for a moment, or falls down, all the others behind it must stop also.

It is now evening, and from one division of the army to another the messengers from headquarters are hurrying. Kiuprile's messenger comes to inform Hassan that the army of the enemy has taken up its position on the opposite bank, between two forests, the French mercenaries and the German auxiliary troops have joined it, so that it would be well to attack it in the night, before it has had time properly to marshal its ranks.

"Thy master is mad," replied Hassan; "how can I fly across the water? Before me is the river Raab. I should have to fling a bridge across it first—nay two, three bridges—which it would take me days to do, and I cannot even begin to do it till the old ammunition waggons have arrived. Go back, therefore, and tell thy master that if he wants to fight I'll sound the alarm."

The messenger opened his eyes wide, being unaware of the fact that Hassan was short-sighted, and consequently only knew the river Raab from the map, not knowing that at the spot where he stood the river was not more than two yards wide, and could be bridged over in a couple of hours without the assistance of old ammunition wagons—so back the messenger went to Kiuprile.

He had scarce shown a clean pair of heels, when the messenger of Kucsuk Pasha arrived to signify in his master's name that the battle could not be postponed, because no hay had arrived for the horses.

Hassan turned furiously on the captive magistrates.

"Why have you not sent hay?"

The wisest of them, desirous to answer the question, politely rejoined: "It has been a dry summer, sir, the Lord has kept back the clouds of Heaven."

"Oh, that's it, eh!" said Hassan. "Tell Kucsuk Pasha that he must give his horses the clouds to eat; the hay of the Magyars is there, it seems."

This messenger had no sooner departed than a whole embassy arrived from the Janissaries, and the whole lot of them energetically demanded that they should be led into battle at once.

"What?" inquired Hassan mockingly, "has your hay fallen short too, then?" The Janissaries are infantry, by the way.

"It is glory we are running short of," said the leader of the deputation stolidly; "it bores us to stand staring idly into the eyes of the enemy."

"Then don't stare idly at them any longer; away with those mutinous dogs and impale them, and put them on the highest hillock that the whole army may see them."

The bodyguard, after a fierce struggle, overpowered the Janissaries, and pending their impalement, locked them up in the cellar of the cloisters.

By this time Hassan Pasha was in the most horrible temper; and just at that unlucky moment who should arrive but Balló, the envoy of the Prince of Transylvania.

Hassan, who could not see very well at the best of times, and was now blinded with rage besides, roared at him:

"Whence hast thou come? Who hath sent thee hither? What is thy errand?"

"I come from Kiuprile, sir," replied Balló blandly.

"What a good-for-nothing blackguard this Kiuprile must be to send to me such a rogue as thou art, except in chains and fetters."

"Well, of course he knows that I am the envoy of Transylvania, and represent the Prince."

"Represent the Prince, eh? Art thou the Prince's cobbler that thou standest in his shoes? Hast thou brought soldiers with thee?"

"Gracious sir——"

"Thou hast not, then? Not another word! Hast thou brought money?"

"Gracious sir!"

"Not even money! Wherefore, then, hast thou come at all? Canst thou pay the allotted tribute?"

"Gracious sir!"

"Don't gracious sir me, but answer—yes or no!"

"Well, but——"

"Then why not?"

"The land is poor, sir. The heavy hand of God is upon it."

"Thou must settle that with God, then, and pray that it may not feel my heavy hand also. Wherefore, then, hast thou come?"

Balló made up his mind to swallow the bitter morsel.

"I have come to implore you to remit the annual tribute."

At first Hassan did not know what to say.

"Hast thou become wooden, then," he said at last, "thou and thy whole nation? What right have ye to ask for a remission of the tribute?"

"Gracious sir, the tribute is five times more than what Gabriel Bethlen was wont to pay."

"Gabriel Bethlen was a fine fellow who paid in iron what he did not pay in silver; if he paid fourteen thousand thalers for the privilege of fighting alongside of us, ye may very well pay down eighty thousand for sitting comfortably at your own firesides. What, only eighty thousand for Transylvania, a state that is always digging up gold and silver, when a single sandjak16 pays the Pasha of Thessalonica twice as much?"

At these words the national pride awoke in the breast of Balló.

"Sir, Thessalonica is a subject province, and its Pasha has unlimited power over his sandjaks, but Transylvania is a free state."

"And who told thee that it shall not become a sandjak like the rest?" said Hassan grimly. "Before the moon has waxed and waned again twice, take my word for it that a Turkish Pasha shall sit on the throne of Transylvania! Dost thou hear me? By the prophet I swear it."

"The Grand Seignior has also sworn that the ancient rights of Transylvania should never be infringed. He swore it on the Koran and by the Prophet."

"It is beneath the dignity of the Grand Seignior, our present Sultan," cried Hassan, "to remember the oath sworn by the great Suleiman; not what he says, but what his viziers wish, will happen. And vainly do ye entrust your heads to his hand, while the sword of execution remains in our hands! I'll humble you, ye stony-headed, most obstinate of all nations! Ye shall be no different from the Bosnian rajas who themselves pull the plough!"

Balló raised his head with a bitter look before the wrathful vizier.

"Then, sir, you must find another population for Transylvania, for you will not find there now the men you seek. You may see no end of murdered Magyars there, but a degraded Magyar you will never find."

At these words Hassan drew his sword, and with his own hand would have decapitated the presumptuous ambassador, but the mamelukes dragged him away, assuring the Pasha that they would impale him along with the Janissaries.

"Place the stake in front of my window that I may speak to the insolent wolf while he is well spitted."

The men-at-arms did indeed thrust Balló into the cellar along with the Janissaries, and began to plant a long, sharp-pointed stake in front of the Pasha's window, when, all at once, a frightful din arose behind their backs, for the Janissaries, hearing that their comrades had been condemned to death without mercy, had revolted in a body. In a moment they had cut down those of their officers who remonstrated, and while one body rushed towards the monastery, beating their alarm-drum and blowing their horns, the others attacked the negro giants guarding the impalement stakes already planted on the top of the hill, and in a few moments the executioners were themselves writhing on the stakes.

Meanwhile the mamelukes of Hassan, who were preparing to resist the insurgents, put to flight by the furious Janissaries, made for the courtyard of the cloister and its garden, which was surrounded by a stone wall, and after barricading the entrances, succeeded with great difficulty in shutting the iron gates in the faces of their assailants, and prepared vigorously to defend them.

The insurgents surrounded the monastery, and bombarding its windows with bullets and darts, began to besiege it at long-firing distance.

Hassan, distracted by rage and fear, fled into the tower of the monastery, leaving his guards to defend the gates till the other divisions of the army should come to quell the insurgents, but they did not stir. Hassan perceived from his tower that not a man from Kiuprile's army was coming to his assistance, though they very well could see his jeopardy and hear the din of the firing a long way off. On the other side the Moldavians had pitched their camp on the hills, but it never entered their minds to draw nearer; on the contrary, they were only too delighted to see Turks devour Turks in this fashion. Ismail Pasha's army seemed rather to be retreating than approaching, and from Kucsuk and his son he durst not hope for assistance, as they were his personal enemies.

At that moment the insurgents caught sight of the stake planted before the window, and set up a howl of fury.

"Ah, ha! Hassan had this planted here for himself. Let's fix up Hassan!"

With a shudder the Vizier reflected on the enormous difference between the throne of Transylvania and the stake on which he might be planted instead, and cursed softly as he murmured to himself:

"That rogue of a Christian must have prayed to his God that I might be brought to shame here;" and grasping in his terror the solitary bell-rope that hung there, and winding it round his neck, he stood by the window, so that if the rebels should burst through the gates he might leap out and hang himself, rather than that they should wreak their horrible threats upon him.

The night had now set in, but the besiegers kindled pine branches, by whose spluttering light they streamed round the monastery; and then came a sudden and continuous firing of guns and beating of drums and a frightful braying of buffalo horns.

The banner of danger had already been planted on the summit of the tower, but from no quarter did help arise, and from time to time the sound of a bell rang through the air as a chance bullet struck it.

Hassan, full of terror, drew back behind the window curtains. Suddenly a yell still more terrible than the hitherto pervading tumult filled his ear—the besiegers had discovered the cellar in which their comrades had been confined, and, bursting in the doors, liberated them, and the Transylvanian deputy along with them, who speedily left this scene of uproar behind him.

At the sight of their bound and fettered comrades, the Janissaries' wrath increased ten-fold. The leader of the released captives, waving an axe over his head with a fierce howl, and hurling himself at the iron gate, hammered away like the roaring of guns; whilst the rest of them, who hitherto had been firing at the windows from a distance, now attacked the entrances with unrestrainable fury, raining showers of blows upon the gates.

But the gates were of good strong iron plates, well barricaded below with quadraginal paving-stones. The besiegers' arms grew weary, and the mamelukes on the roof flung stones and heavy beams down upon them, doing fearful execution among their serried ranks; whilst every mameluke who fell from his perch, pierced by a bullet, was instantly torn to pieces by the crowd, which flung back his head at the defenders.

"Draw back!" cried the officer in command, who stood foremost amidst the storm of rafters and bullets. "Run for the guns! At the bottom of that hill I saw a mortar planted in the ground; draw it forth, and we'll fire upon the walls."

In an instant the whole Janissary host had withdrawn from below the monastery, and the whole din died away. Yet the dumb silence was more threatening, more terrible, than the uproar had been. Very soon a dull rumbling was audible, drawing nearer and nearer every instant; it was the rolling of a gun-carriage full of artillery. Hundreds of them were pushing it together, and were rapidly advancing with the heavy, shapeless guns. At last they placed one in position opposite the monastery; it was a heavy iron four-and-twenty pound culverin, whose voice would be audible at the distance of four leagues. This they planted less than fifteen yards from the monastery, and aimed it at the gate.

"There is no help save with God!" cried Hassan in despair; and he took off his turban lest they should thereby recognise his dead body.

At that instant a trumpet sounded, and the cavalry of Kucsuk Pasha appeared in battle array, making its way through the congested masses of the insurgents; while Feriz Beg, at the head of his Spahis, skilfully surrounded them, and cut off their retreat.

Kucsuk Pasha, with a drawn sword in his hand, trotted straight up to the gun and stood face to face with its muzzle.

"Are ye faithful sons of the prophet, or fire-worshippers, giaurs, and idolators, that ye attack the faithful after this fashion?" he asked the insurgents.

At these words the ringleaders of the insurgents came forward.

"We are Janissaries," he said, "the flowers of the Prophet's garden, who are wont to pluck the weeds we find there."

"I know you, but you know me; ye are good soldiers, but I am a good soldier too. Hath Allah put swords into the hands of good soldiers that they may fall upon one another? Ye would weep for me if I fell because of you, and I would weep for you if ye fell because of me—but where would be the glory of it? What! Here with the foe in front of you, ye would wage war among yourselves, to your own shame, and to the joy of the stranger? Is not that sword accursed which is not drawn against the foe?"

"Yet accursed also is the sword which returns to its sheath unblooded."

"What do ye want?"

"We want to fight."

"And can you only find enemies among yourselves?"

"Our first enemy is cowardice, and cowardice sits in the seat of that general who alone is afraid when the whole camp wants to fight. We would first slay fear, and then we would slay the foe."

"Why not slay the foe first?"

"We will go alone against the whole camp of the enemy if the rest refuse."

"Good; I will go with you."

"Thou?"

"I and my son with all our squadrons."

At these words the mutineers passed, in an instant, from the deepest wrath to the sublimest joy. "To battle!" they cried. "Kucsuk also is coming, and Feriz will help!" These cries spread from mouth to mouth. And immediately the drums began to beat another reveille, the horns gave forth a very different sound, they turned the cannons round and dragged them to the river's bank, and began to build a bridge over the Raab with the beams and rafters that had been hurled down upon them.

The hostile camp lay about four hours' march away, on the opposite bank, between two forests, and by an inexplicable oversight, had left that portion of the river's bank absolutely unguarded.

The Janissaries swam to and fro in the water strengthening the posts and stays of the improvised bridge by tying them stoutly together, and by the time the night had begun to grow grey, the first bridge ever thrown over the Raab was ready and the infantry began to cross it.

It was only then that the German-Hungarian camp perceived the design of the enemy, and speedily sent three regiments of musketeers against the Turks, who fought valiantly with the Janissaries, and drove them right back upon the bridge, where a bloody tussle ensued as fresh divisions hastened up to sustain the hardly-pressed Mussulmans.

Meanwhile a second bridge had been got ready, over which Kucsuk's cavalry quickly galloped and fell upon the rear of the musketeers.

These warriors, taken by surprise and perceiving the preponderance of the enemy, and obtaining no assistance from their own headquarters, quickly flung down their firearms and made helter-skelter for their own trenches.

The next moment the two combating divisions were a confused struggling mass. Kucsuk's swift Spahis cut off the retreat of the Christian infantry; only for a few moments was there a definite struggle, the tussle being most obstinate round the standards, till at last they also began to totter and fall one after the other, and three thousand Christian souls mounted on high together, pursued by a roar of triumph from the Mussulmans, who, seizing the advanced trenches, planted thereon their half-moon streamers, and plundered the tents which remained defenceless before them.

At that moment the Christian host was near to destruction, and if Kiuprile had crossed the river and Hassan Pasha had shared the fight with Kucsuk, he would have become famous.

But the two chief commanders remained obstinately behind on the further shore. Kiuprile, who the evening before had himself wanted to begin the fight when he had received a negative answer, had now not even saddled his nag, and looked on with sinister sangfroid while the extreme wing of the army was engaged. Hassan, on the other hand, would have liked nothing better if the Janissaries, and Kucsuk their auxiliary, had lost the battle thus begun without orders, and so far from hastening to their assistance remained sitting up in his tower. He could see nothing of the battle, but he heard a cry, and fancying that it was the death-yell of the Janissaries, took his beads from his girdle and began zealously to pray that the Prophet would keep open for them the gates of Paradise.

"Master, master!" exclaimed Yffim Beg, "gird on thy sword and to horse!"

The Pasha heard nothing. At last Yffim Beg, in despair, seized the bell-rope, and pulled the old bell right above Hassan's head, whereupon the latter rushed in terror to the window.

"What is it? What dost thou want?"

"Hasten, sir!" roared Yffim Beg. "Kucsuk Pasha has beaten the enemy, taken their trenches, and is plundering their tents. Do not allow him to have all the glory of scattering the Christians!"

Hassan leapt from his seat. If he had heard that Kucsuk's men were being cut to pieces he would have gone on praying, but Kucsuk triumphed—had all the triumph to himself. The thought was a keen spur to his mind. Up everyone who could stir hand or foot! Forward Spahis and Arabs! To battle every true believer! Let the dervishes go up in the tower and sing dirges for the fallen! Let the ground shake beneath the rolling of the guns! Let the horns ring out for now is the day of glory!

In an instant the camp was alert, and crowds of warriors rushed towards the bridge. Every man pressed hard on the heels of his fellow; those who were crowded into the water did their best to reach the opposite shore by swimming; whole companies swam through on horseback, and the heavy iron guns moved forward as rapidly as if they had wings. It was only now that the vast numbers of the Ottoman host became manifest, it seemed suddenly to spring out of the ground in every direction; the tiny little cramped Christian camp over against them looked like an island in an inundation.

In the very centre of the host could be seen Hassan Pasha with a brilliant suite, twenty horse-tail banners fluttered around him, the pick of his veterans at his side. On the left was the army of Ismail Pasha; on the right were the hosts of the Moldavians. Their immediate objective was the trenches already occupied by Kucsuk Pasha.

At that moment Yffim Beg was seen galloping along the front of the host with the Vizier's commands for Kucsuk Pasha.

"Ye remain where now you are, and move no farther till a fresh command arrives. Feriz Beg and his battalion move forward along the outermost wing."

Hassan could not endure that two such heroes should help each other in the battle, and that the son should deliver the father. Kucsuk beat the tattoo. Feriz Beg moved along the left wing, where he formed the reserve.

Then the reveille sounded; a hideous yell filled the air; the Mussulman host, with bloodthirsty rage, rushed upon the front of the Christian army. No power on earth can save them! But what is this? Suddenly the impetus of the assailants is stayed. Along the front of the camp of the Christian infantry star-shaped trenches have been dug during the night and planted full of sharp stakes. The foremost row of the assailants pause terror-stricken in front of these trenches, and for an instant the onset is arrested. But only for an instant. The powerful impact of the rearward masses flings them into the deadly ditch, one after another they fall upon the pointed stakes, a mortal yell drowns the cry of battle, in a few moments the star-shaped trenches are filled with corpses and the rushing throng tramples over the dead bodies of their comrades to get to the other side of the ditch. And now the roar of the cannons begin. Up to that moment the guns of the Christians have remained inactive, concealed behind the gabions. Now their gaping throats face the attacking host. At a single signal the roar of eighty iron throats is heard, bullets and chain-shot make their whirring way through the serried ranks, the crackling mortars discharge sackloads of acorn-shaped balls, while the fire-spitting grenades terrify the rearmost ranks.

The Mussulmans host recoils in terror, leaving their dead and wounded behind them. Horrible spectacle! Instead of the lately brilliant ranks the ground is strewn with mangled bloody limbs, writhing like worms in the dust. The next moment the splendid array again covers the ground; the corpses are no longer visible, they are hidden by the feet of the living. The beaten squadrons are sent to the rear; fresh battalions fill their places; the assault is renewed. The fire of the guns no longer keeps them back. They cast down their eyes, shout "Allah!" and rush forward. An earth-rending report resounds, a fiery mine has exploded beneath the feet of the assailants; fragments of human limbs intermingled with strips of tempest-tossed banners fly up into the air amidst whirling clouds of smoke. The second assault is also flung back, and in the meantime the Christian army has succeeded in drawing a line of wagons across their front. And now a third, now a fourth, assault is delivered, each more furious than the last. The Christians begin to despair; every regiment of the Turkish host is now engaged with them, only Kucsuk has received no order to advance. Hassan would win the battle without him.

There he stands, together with his staff, directing the most perverse of battles, hurling his swarms against unassailable rocks, assaulting entrenched places with cavalry; at one time distributing orders to regiments which had ceased to exist, at another sending to consult with commanders who had fallen before his very eyes. Those around him listened to his words with astonishment, and not one of them durst say: "Dismount from your horse, you cannot see ten yards in front of you!" The din of the renewed assaults sounded in his ears like a cry of triumph. "Look how they waver!" he cried; "look how the Christian ranks waver, and how their banners are falling in the dust! Shoot them, shoot them down!" and none durst say to him: "These are thy hosts whose death-cries thou dost hear, and it is the fire from the Christian guns which mow down whole ranks of thy army!"

The Ottoman host had begun its tenth assault, when Hassan sent a courier to Kiuprile on the opposite shore with this message: "Thou canst return to Paphlagonia! We have won the battle without thee. Tell them at home what thou hast seen!"

Kiuprile, seriously alarmed lest he should have no part in the glory of the contest, immediately mounted the whole of his cavalry, flung a bridge over the river, and began to cross it.

This happened at the very moment when Ismail Pasha was leading the Osmanlis to the tenth assault.

The leader of the Christian host, Montecuculi, no sooner perceived Kiuprile's movement, than he called together his generals and gave them to understand that if they awaited Kiuprile where they stood they would be irretrievably lost.

They were just then loading their guns with their last charge.

Many faces grew pale at this announcement, and a deep silence followed Montecuculi's words. Yet his words were the words of valour. Three heroes had been in his army—one of them, the French general, the Marquis de Brianzon, had already fallen; the other two, still present, were the German general, Toggendorf, and the Hungarian cavalry officer, Petneházy.

At the commander-in-chief's announcement the faces of both remained unmoved, and Toggendorf, with the utmost sang-froid came forward: "If we must choose between two deaths," said he, "why not rather choose death by advancing than death in flight?"

"Not so, my lad," cried Petneházy, enthusiastically grasping his comrade's hand; "we choose between death and glory, and he who seeks glory will find a triumph also."

"So be it," said Montecuculi, with cool satisfaction, thrusting his field-glass into his pocket and drawing forth his thin blade; and, while he sent the two heroes to the two wings, he placed himself in front of the army, and commanded that the barrier of wagons should instantly be demolished.

The last discharge thundered forth, and from amidst the dispersing clouds of smoke two compact army columns could be seen rapidly charging—they were Toggendorf's cuirassiers and Petneházy's hussars.

Petneházy made straight for the still hesitating Moldavian army, which, with Prince Ghyka at its head, had as yet taken no part in the fight. Heaven itself gave him the inspiration. The Prince of Moldavia had been waiting for a long time for some one to attack him, that he might at once quit the field of battle to which he had been constrained to come, though it revolted his feelings as a Christian to do so; consequently, when Petneházy was within fifty yards of his battalions, they, as if at a given signal, turned tail without so much as crossing swords with the foe, galloped off to the left bank of the Waag, and so quitted the field.

This flight threw the whole Turkish army into disorder. A more skilful general would indeed have withdrawn the whole host, but, because of his short-sightedness, Hassan did not perceive that the Moldavians had fled, and nobody durst tell him so. Ismail Pasha immediately hastened to fill up the gap; but before he had reached the spot, Toggendorf's cuirassiers were upon him, and he was caught between two fires in a moment. The Janissaries received the full brunt of the swords of the cuirassiers and the hussars, and in the first onset Ismail Pasha himself fell from his horse. A hussar rushed upon him, and severing from his body his big bared head, stuck it on the point of a lance, and raised it in the air as a very emblem of terror to the panic-stricken Turks. The Janissaries were no longer able to rally, in every direction they broke through the hostile ranks in a desperate attempt at flight, and, which was worse still, the flying infantry barred the way against the cavalry which was hastening to their assistance.

All this was taking place within two hundred yards of Hassan Pasha, and he saw nothing of it.

"Glory be to Allah," he cried, raising his hands to heaven; "victory is ours! The Christian is flying and is casting down his banners in every direction. The best of his warriors are wallowing in the dust. The rest are flying without weapons and with pale——"

Those about him listened, horror-stricken, to his words. The Christian host was at that moment cutting down the Janissaries, the flower of the Turkish camp!

"Thou ravest, my master!" cried Yffim Beg, seizing the bridle of Hassan Pasha's horse. "Fly and save thyself! The best of thy army has perished, the Janissaries have fallen, the Moldavian army hath fled. Ismail Pasha's head has been hoisted on to a pike!"

"Impossible!" roared Hassan, beside himself, "come with me; let us charge, the victory is ours."

But his generals seized him, and tearing his sword from his hand, seized the bridle of his horse on both sides and hurried him along with them towards the bridge, which was now full of fugitives.

The hazard of the die had changed. The pursuers had become the fugitives. An hour before the Christian camp ran the risk of annihilation; it was now the turn of the Turks.

Kiuprile seeing the catastrophe, destroyed his bridges and remained on the opposite bank.

Meanwhile on the wings, Kucsuk Pasha and Feriz Beg, with his brigade of Amazons, were valiantly holding their own against the cuirassiers of Toggendorf and the hussars of Petneházy, till at last the melancholy notes of the bugle-horns gave the signal for retreat, and the combatants gradually separated. Only a few scattered bands, and presently, only a few scattered individuals, still fought together, and then they also wearily abandoned the contest and returned silently to their respective camps. Both sides felt that their strength was exhausted. The Christian host had four thousand, the Turkish sixteen thousand slain, and among them its best generals; they also lost all their heavy cannons, their banners, and their military renown; but none lost so much as Feriz Beg. The Amazon Brigade had perished. By its deliberate self-sacrifice it had saved the Turkish army from utter destruction.