Thirteen at Table | Page 7

innocent and unprotected, on whom will the
ignominy of their blood fall?"
"On me; but I will give you the means of preventing this disgrace. Do
you accept it?"
"Speak!"
"I will give you a disguise; hasten to Kolozsv‡r and assemble your
comrades,--then return and protect your house. I will wait you there,
and man to man, in open honorable combat, the strife will no longer be
ignominious."
"Thanks, thanks!" murmured the youth, pressing the Decurio's hand.
"There is not a moment to lose; here is a peasant's mantle--if you
should be interrogated, you have only to show this paszura, and
mention my name. Your not knowing the language is of no
consequence; my men are accustomed to see Hungarian gentlemen visit
me in disguise, and having only seen you by night, they will not
recognize you."
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. Haste, and lose no time! If you

delay you will bring mourning on your own head and disgrace on
mine!"
In a few minutes the young man, disguised as a Wallachian peasant,
was hastening on foot across the hills of Kolozsv‡r.
It was past midnight.
The inhabitants of the B‡rdy castle had all retired to rest.
The iron gate was locked and the windows barred, when suddenly the
sound of demoniac cries roused the slumberers from their dreams.
"What is that noise?" cried J—zsef B‡rdy, springing from his bed, and
rushing to the window.
"The Ol‡hok!" cried a hussar, who had rushed to his master's
apartments on hearing the sounds.
"The Ol‡h! the Ol‡h!" was echoed through the corridors by the terrified
servants.
By the light of a few torches, a hideous crowd was seen before the
windows, armed with scythes and axes, which they were brandishing
with fearful menaces.
"Lock all the doors!" cried J—zsef B‡rdy, with calm presence of mind.
"Barricade the great entrance, and take the ladies and children to the
back rooms. You must not lose your heads, but all assemble together in
the turret-chamber, from whence the whole building may be protected.
And taking down two good rifles from over his bed, he hastened to his
elder brother Tam‡s's apartments, and overlooked the court.
Have you heard the noise?" asked his brother as he entered.
"I knew it would come," he replied, and coolly continued to pace the
room.
"And are you not preparing for defense?"

"To what purpose?--they will kill us all. I am quite prepared for what
must inevitably happen."
"But it will not happen if we defend ourselves courageously. We are
eight men--the walls of the castle are strong--the besiegers have no
guns, and no place to protect them; we may hold out for days until
assistance comes from Kolozsv‡r."
"We shall lose," replied Tam‡s coldly, and without the slightest change
of countenance.
"Then I shall defend the castle myself. I have a wife and children, our
old grandmother and our sisters are here, and I shall protect them, if I
remain alone."
At that instant Barnab‡s and old Simon entered with the widowed
sister.
Barnab‡s had a huge twenty-pound iron club in his hand; grinding his
teeth, and with eyes darting fire, he seemed capable of meeting
single-handed the whole troop.
He was followed by the widow, with two loaded pistols in her hand,
and old Simon, who entreated them not to use violence or exasperate
the enemy.
"Conduct yourselves bravely!" replied the widow dryly; "let us not die
in vain."
"Come with me--we shall send them all to hell!" cried Barnab‡s,
swinging his club in his herculean arm as if it had been a reed.
"Let us not be too hasty," interrupted J—zsef; we will stand here in the
tower, from whence we can shoot every one that approaches, and if
they break in, we can meet them on the stairs."
"For Heaven's sake!" cried Simon, "what are you going to do? If you
kill one of them they will massacre us all. Speak to them

peaceably--promise them wine--take them to the cellar--give them
money--try to pacify them! Nephew Tam‡s, you will speak to them?"
continued the old man, turning to Tam‡s, who still paced up and down,
without the slightest visible emotion.
"Pacification and resistance are equally vain," he replied coldly; "we
are inevitably lost!"
"We have no time for delay," said J—zsef impatiently; "take the arms
from the wall, Barnab‡s, give one to each servant--let them stand at the
back windows of the house, we