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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Oh, fools and madmen!" hissed the lady. Her immediate impulse was to rush from the room. At the door, however, she recovered her sang froid, and, turning back, clutched Bodza by the arm and whispered in his ear: "There is now only one remaining way of gaining a complete victory." "What is that?" "We must revolt the county-town also.
"Given at our headquarters near Hétfala." "Write your name beneath it: 'Numa Pompilius, prætor of Upper Pannonia." Thomas Bodza, with a spasmodic grin, accepted this title of distinction, and added his sprawling signature to the dangerous document. Then Maria snatched up a pen, and subscribed it with the name: Fabius Cunctator, quæstor of Volhynia.
Ah! Numa, I see you are but a neophyte after all. Why did you begin without inviting the aid of the Poles? This is just the sort of thing a Pole would understand! Have you writing materials handy?" Startled into obsequiousness, Bodza produced ink and paper from some secret receptacle. He was humbly silent now. He felt himself in the presence of a man wiser than himself.
The poor fellow, after all, would really have been a very good man if only he had not been so very simple. "Clear out, will you!" cried Dame Zudár and Thomas Bodza simultaneously, "we must not kill him. We want to get something out of him, so he must live. Let no one hurt him, then, till he has received his sentence."
If we succeed we shall have the General as a hostage, if we do not, at least we shall give the soldiers something to do." Thomas Bodza, with his teeth all chattering, approved of this project. He would, however, have very much liked to know who would undertake this dangerous enterprise.
Thomas Bodza confessed with a blush that he had not taken thought for these things.
"How so?" asked Bodza, much surprised; "where is he then?" "He has disappeared like Romulus. The Gods have taken him!" and Maria smiled enigmatically, as if she could reveal a great deal more if she only chose. Bodza seized her hand violently. "And in his own time he will appear again, eh?" The only answer Maria gave was to press his hand significantly.
Thomas Bodza would have acted more wisely if he had endeavoured to inoculate the minds of the faithful committed to his charge with a little reading, a little writing, and some slight knowledge of geography, ethnology, natural history, and fruit cultivation, instead of assembling round him all the loafers of the district in the pot-house, the meeting-house, at the hut of the forest rangers, or in some underground cellar outside the village, and there putting into their heads ideas which, interpreted by their ignorant fanaticism, could only be productive of infinite mischief.
The gaping rioters did not respond very willingly at first, but when Thomas Bodza assured them that they now saw before them one of the most powerful leaders of the movement, ten or twenty of them forced their way to the front, boasting loudly that they were prepared to face any danger. "Remember this is no joke, my sons," continued Maria.
Yet here must be our starting point. We must compel the folks here to tackle to the business a petty village cannot take the initiative without some stimulus from without." Ivan listened to the master's words admiringly; he began to have the strong conviction that Bodza possessed the qualifications of a great general.
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