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Updated: May 22, 2025
Silently and anxiously they pursued their course, their eyes fixed upon one point, as they seemed to fly rather than gallop along the road. "We are too late!" exclaimed one of the party at last, pointing to a dim red smoke along the horizon. "Your castle is burning!" Without returning an answer, Imre spurred his panting horse to a swifter pace.
"Take his hand," said Jolanka, in her low, sweet accents; and then turning to Imre, "He saved your life he saved us both, and he will rescue our family, too." Imre looked at her in astonishment. The Decurio seized his arms and drew him aside.
Then they laid him in the carriage already prepared for him, and little Elise sat beside him and nursed his head in her lap. Oh, by this time, she was very well used to nursing old people. Maria and Imré accompanied the carriage on foot all the way to town. Yet, once again, they were forced to fight their way through armed bands of rebels, but after that they reached the town peaceably enough.
Imre hastily took the dress, while Decurio spoke to the people, made arrangements for the execution of their plans, and pointed out the way to the castle, promising to follow them immediately. "Accept my horse as a remembrance," said the young man, turning to the Decurio. "I accept it, as it would only raise suspicion were you to mount it; but you may recover it again in the field.
"Why did you come so late?" he asked. Imre held out his hand, but the Decurio did not accept it. "The blood of your family is on my hand," he whispered. "You have let dishonor come on me, and mourning on yourself." The young man's head sunk on his breast in silent anguish.
The deserted castle still burned on, shedding a ghastly light on the surrounding landscape, while the deepest silence reigned around, only broken now and then by an expiring groan, or the hoarse song of a drunken reveler. Day was beginning to dawn as a troop of horsemen galloped furiously towards the castle from the direction of Kolozsvar. They were Imre and his comrades.
Evening was drawing on, and a slight transparent mist had overspread the valley. Imre was desirous of reaching Kolozsvar early on the next morning, and continued his route all night. About midnight the moon rose behind the trees, shedding her silvery light over the forest. All was still, excepting the echo of the miner's hammer, and the monotonous sound of his horse's step along the rocky path.
The rioters had now occupied the hall, they had crept into the castle through the rearward windows, the walls and arches rang with their triumphant shouting. "Imré!" said the old squire to his son, "come nearer to me!" The youth approached his suffering father and knelt down before him.
"Back, Wallachian dogs!" cried Imre, cutting two of them down, while several others sprang forward with the scythes.
Only three of them were mounted, the General's adjutant, Kamienszka, and himself, all the rest were on foot. Even with the utmost exertion it would take at least four hours to reach Hétfalu. During the long journey Maria told Imré everything she knew about his family. Nobody disturbed their conversation, the road was empty and noiseless. When they reached the first csárda that also was silent.
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