Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 19, 2025
Of what good would be such a crew against a host that had called into being a great national consciousness, a host that was made up of the best force of a vigorous people, a host whose every member was proud of his ensign with its eagle, and who held himself superior to every other soldier in the world? Vavel well knew that the giant of the century could be conquered only by heroes and patriots.
Count Vavel was rather inclined to believe that the younger man expressed the temper of the nation. In reality, however, it was only the discontent of a small social body, which found quite enough room for its meetings in the sleeping-chamber of one of the sympathizers.
"Count Vavel sent me here to beg you to answer the words he spoke to you on an eventful occasion. Do you remember them?" The lady's countenance did not brighten as she replied: "Yes, I remember the words; but between them and my reply there is a veil that separates the two." "The veil has been removed." "Ah! Then you saw the lady of the castle without her veil? Is she pretty?" "More than pretty!"
It was an inspiriting sight three hundred horsemen, every one of noble Hungarian blood. There were among them fathers of families, and brothers; and all of them soldiers of their own free will. Of such material was the troop of Volons, commanded by "Count Vavel von Fertöszeg." Count Vavel had a second volunteer company, composed of Satan Laczi and his comrades.
"Katharina Katharina; it is Katharina," stammered the trembling woman, looking pleadingly up into his forbidding face. "And why have you come here?" "I came to bring you this," she replied, holding toward him the steel casket. "Where is Marie?" "She is safe with the Marquis d'Avoncourt." "What?" exclaimed Vavel, in amazement, flinging his carbine on the ground. "Cambray d'Avoncourt here?"
The marquis hardly had time to leap from the saddle before the poor beast fell under him. All seemed lost now. His men were confused and thrown into disorder. In desperation he tore his pistols from the saddle of his fallen horse. Only a single shrub separated him from his enemy, twenty paces, and De Fervlans was a celebrated shot. Count Vavel saw what was coming, and he too drew his pistol.
She wore a pale-blue silk gown with wide sleeves Marie's favorite costume. "It is I, Herr Count," she said in a low tone, looking anxiously about her. "How did you come? I did not hear the carriage," said Count Vavel. "I rowed across the cove alone, because no one must know that I came. Can any one see us here?" "No one."
Marie sparkled with delight; the baroness was wit personified; and the vice-palatine bubbled over with anecdotes. When the roast appeared he raised his glass for a serious toast: "To our beloved fatherland. Vivat! To our revered king. Vivat! To our adored queen. Vivat!" Count Vavel promptly responded, as did also the ladies.
Count Vavel was not the only one who cherished a hatred of this sort; it was felt all over Europe. What was happening in those days could be learned only through the English newspapers. Liberty of speech was prohibited throughout the entire continent.
If you persist in going alone to meet the colonel, I shall hurry back to the manor, send my groom on the swiftest horse I own with this letter to Colonel Barthelmy. Read it." She unfolded the letter she had taken from her pocket, and held it so that Count Vavel might read, without taking it in his hands: "HERR COLONEL: You need not seek Mme. Ange Barthelmy at the Nameless Castle.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking