Thirteen at Table | Page 6

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 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