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Updated: June 16, 2025
The iron gate was locked and the windows barred, when suddenly the sound of demoniac cries roused the slumberers from their dreams. "What is that noise?" cried Jozsef Bardy, springing from his bed, and rushing to the window. "The Olahok!" cried a hussar, who had rushed to his master's apartments on hearing the sounds.
"Because he will seek you." "Did he then speak before you?" "As he lay wounded on that couch, he pronounced your name in his dreams. Are you not that Jolanka Bardy whom they call 'The Angel'? I knew you by your golden locks." The young girl cast down her eyes. "Then you think he will come?" she said in a low voice. "And my relations?"
For the latheron's friend in the court having discovered that I had not decerned she was to do any work to Mrs Girdwood, but only to stay out her term, advised her to do nothing when she went back but go to her bed, which she was bardy enough to do, until my poor friend, the deacon, in order to get a quiet riddance of her, was glad to pay her full fee, and board wages for the remainder of her time.
By the light of a few torches, a hideous crowd was seen before the windows, armed with scythes and axes, which they were brandishing with fearful menaces. "Lock all the doors!" cried Jozsef Bardy, with calm presence of mind. "Barricade the great entrance, and take the ladies and children to the back rooms.
Very remarkable! Very remarkable, indeed!..." "Hm!" grunted Mr. Manderton, "not so uncommon as you suppose, Mr. Bardy, sir. Hendriks, the Palmers Green poisoner, typed out his confession on cream inlaid paper before dosing himself. But let's hear what the gentleman has to tell us...." This was the last digression. Thenceforth Mr. Bardy read out the confession to the end without interruption.
The maiden yielded to his warm embrace, murmuring, as he released her, "Remember me!" "When I cease to remember you, I shall be no more," replied the youth fervently. And then he kissed the young girl's brow, and once more bidding farewell, he hurried from the apartment. Old Simon Bardy lived on the first floor: Imre did not forget him.
"I killed the first Bardy in the court in sight of his family." "I broke in the door, when that terrible man was dashing down the iron on our heads." "But it was I who pierced his heart." "I mounted the stairs first." "I fought nearly half an hour with the noble in the cloth of gold." And thus they continued.
In a few minutes the young man, disguised as a Wallachian peasant, was hastening on foot across the hills of Kolozsvar. It was past midnight. The inhabitants of the Bardy castle had all retired to rest. The iron gate was locked and the windows barred, when suddenly the sound of demoniac cries roused the slumberers from their dreams.
A slight moustache was beginning to shade his upper lip, and his dark hair fell in natural ringlets around his head. He was the only son of the majoresco, Tamas Bardy, and resembled him much in form and feature. Beside him sat an old gentleman, with white hair and ruddy complexion. This was Simon Bardy, an ancient relative, who had grown old with the grandmother of the family.
"Ay, ay," continued the old lady, "the trees are now putting forth their verdure, but at the fall of the leaf who knows if all of us, or any of us, may still be sitting here?" Several months had passed since this slight incident. In one of the apartments of the castle, the eldest Bardy and his son were engaged in earnest conversation.
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