grave at the feet of his jailors, and declared,
sobbing and moaning, that he would hurt nobody if nobody hurt him. The
only answer they gave him was a smashing blow on the head with a large
hammer, and he fell back into the grave and expired on the spot.

A vigorous slash with which Imre severed the arm of the most powerful of
the peasants, clean off at the elbow, somewhat damped the fighting
ardour of the crowd, which drew back to curse and swear at a distance.
The respite thus gained was sufficient to enable the little group of
gentlemen to reach the door of the castle, and bolt and bar it behind
them, after having first of all rescued old Hetfalusy from the hands of
his murderers.

Fortunately not one of the rioters remained in the castle, indeed there
was nothing else for them to do there. Everything had been eviscerated,
torn to atoms, reduced to powder. A large portion of the mob was down in
the cellars dead drunk.

Imre Hetfalusy who, all this time, had held his father closely embraced,
now deposited him on a torn and ragged hair mattress, and then they both
embraced each other again, and neither could speak a word. It was both
joy and anguish, it was something which words could not describe.

And now for the defence!

The three of them could not, of course, defend the whole castle against
the furious mob whenever it should return. For return it certainly
would, and if it could not get through the door, it was at least able to
climb through the windows. The best plan, therefore, was to confine the
defence to a single room, and the most convenient stronghold was the
family library, the door of which was strengthened by iron fastenings.

The sole object of the besieged was to keep the mob at bay till the
arrival of the soldiery.

In a few moments the roar of the rioters advancing to the attack was
again audible. Stones flew through the windows, and angry fists
thundered at the door. Curses and savage threats resounded in the
passages. The mob, swarming in the courtyard, were carrying about on
their shoulders the dead bodies of the two peasants that had been shot,
two or three men with bloody faces were exhibiting their wounds, the
widow of one of the fallen held up her weeping children in her arms, and
hounded the mob on to vengeance with her frantic bitterness.

The room to be defended had a window looking out upon the courtyard, and
a door opening upon the passage. Maria was to be the defender of the
win