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Updated: May 22, 2025
"I shall not require you you may remain at home," said Imre, as, taking the bridle of one of the horses, vaulting lightly into the saddle, he pressed his csako over his brow and galloped from the castle. As he rode under the cross, he checked his horse and looked back. Was it of his grandmother's words, or of the golden-haired Jolanka that he thought? A white handkerchief waved from the window.
"Ah!" he roared in despair, and with the iron strength of frenzy he tore himself loose from the grasp of the corporal who fell prone into the fireplace with a fearful crash. "Whoever touches me is a dead man!" screamed Imré, with a voice full of fury and defiance, and tearing open his vest he drew forth with one hand a dagger and with the other a large hussar pistol.
The officer at once placed four-and-twenty soldiers at the disposal of the General's adjutant. More he could not spare, as his assistance might be wanted elsewhere. Imré lost no more time in going to the next cordon-commander, but marched straight off to Hétfalu with his four-and-twenty warriors.
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.
Imre silently left the apartment, and as soon as he had closed the door the tears streamed from his eyes; but before his sword had struck the last step his countenance had regained its former determination, and the fire of enthusiasm had kindled in his eye. He then went to take leave of his Uncle Jozsef, whom he found surrounded by his family.
I shall win glory for your colors!" * Transylvania. 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.
"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 two defenders held their places, held them, at any rate, till the besiegers should stream through the window or shoot them down from behind. Either of these eventualities might be expected at any moment. "Keep your shots to the very last," whispered Maria to Imré. "Reserve one of them for the enemy, and the other for me. I must not fall into their hands alive."
Then he seized the heavy gilded crucifix and slowly raised it aloft in his right hand as if he would have stricken to the earth with it his own son who knelt there embracing his knees. During this painful scene the door opened, the clash of the butt ends of muskets brought sharply to the ground was heard, and a corporal and three soldiers appeared on the scene. Imré looked round at this noise.
Jolanka felt that Imre was more than a brother to her, and the feeling with which she had learnt to return his affection was warmer than even a sister's love. The widow lady and the cripple were also in the grandmother's apartment; the child sat on a stool at the old lady's feet, and smiled sadly as the young man entered. "Why that sword at your side, Imre?" asked the old lady in a feeble voice.
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