Thirteen at Table | Page 6

short silence.
"Because the strife was unequal--a hundred against one."
"But had it not been for you, I could have freed myself from them."
"Without me you had been lost. Ten paces from where I stopped your
horse, you would inevitably have been dashed to pieces by huge stones
which they were preparing to throw down upon you from the rock."
"And you did not desire my death?"
"No, because it would have reflected dishonor on the Roumin name."
"You are a chivalrous man, Decurio!"

"I am what you are; I know your character, and the same feeling
inspires us both. You love your nation, as I do mine. Your nation is
great and cultivated; mine is despised and neglected, and my love is
more bitterly devoted. Your love for your country makes you happy;
mine deprives me of peace. You have taken up arms to defend your
country without knowing your own strength, or the number of the foe; I
have done the same. Either of us may lose, or we may both be blotted
out; but though the arms may be buried in the earth, rust will not eat
them."
"I do not understand your grievances."
"You do not understand? Know, then, that although fourteen centuries
have passed since the Roman eagle overthrew Diurbanus, there are still
those among us--the now barbarous people--who can trace their descent
from generation to generation, up to the times of its past glory. We
have still our traditions, if we have nothing more; and can point out
what forest stands in the place of the ancient Sarmisaegethusa, and
what town is built where one Decebalus overthrew the far-famed troops
of the Consulate. And alas for that town! if the graves over which its
houses are built should once more open, and turn the populous streets
into a field of battle! What is become of the nation, the heir of so much
glory?--the proud Dacians, the descendants of the far-famed legions? I
do not reproach any nation for having brought us to what we now are;
but let none reproach me if I desire to restore my people to what they
once were."
"And do you believe that this is the time?"
"We have no prophets to point out the hour, but it seems yours do not
see more clearly. We shall attempt it now, and if we fail our
grandchildren will attempt it again. We have nothing to lose but a few
lives; you risk much that is worth losing, and yet you assemble beneath
the banner of war. Then war. Then what would you do if you were like
us?--a people who possess nothing in this world among whom there is
not one able or one instructed head; for although every third man bears
the name of Papa, it is not every hundredth who can read! A people
excluded from every employment; who live a miserable life in the

severest manual labor; who have not one noble city in their country, the
home of three-fourths of their people. Why should we seek to know the
signs of the times in which we are to die, or be regenerated! We have
nothing but our wretchedness, and if we are conquered we lose nothing.
Oh! you did wrong for your own peace to leave a nation to such utter
neglect!"
"We do not take up arms for our nation alone, but for freedom in
general."
"You do wrong. It is all the same to us who our sovereign may be; only
let him be just towards us, and raise up our fallen people; but you will
destroy your nation--its power, its influence, and privileges--merely
that you may live in a country without a head."
A loud uproar interrupted the conversation. A disorderly troop of
Wallachians approached the Decurio's house, triumphantly bearing the
hussar's csako on a pole before them.
"Had I left you there last night, they would now have exhibited your
head instead of your csako."
The crowd halted before the Decurio's window, greeting him with loud
vociferations.
The Decurio spoke a few words in the Wallachian language, on which
they replied more vehemently than before, at the same time thrusting
forward the kalpag on the pole.
The Decurio turned hastily round. "Was your name written on your
kalpag?" he asked the young man, in evident embarrassment.
"It was."
"Unhappy youth! The people, furious at not having found you, are
determined to attack your father's house."
"And you will permit them?" asked the youth, starting from bed.

"I dare not contradict them, unless I would lose their confidence. I can
prevent nothing."
"Give me up--let them wreak their bloody vengeance on my head!"
"I should only betray myself for having concealed you; and it would
not save your father's house."
"And if they murder the