dow, Imre the defender of the door. The doctor, meanwhile, with the
nonchalance becoming his profession, was binding up old Hetfalusy's
wounds, tearing off portions of his own shirt to serve as bandages.

The rioters had now occupied the hall, they had crept into the castle
through the rearward windows, the walls and arches rang with their
triumphant shouting.

"Imre!" said the old squire to his son, "come nearer to me!"

The youth approached his suffering father and knelt down before him.

"It may be God's will," murmured the aged man, "that within an hour both
of us may stand before His Judgment Seat. Promise me that you will never
accuse me of being a hard father, that you will never say that I hunted
you to death. Promise me that, my son!"

"I have always loved you, and I will love you still," sobbed the youth,
kissing the shaking hand.

"Let us not part from each other in tears," continued the old man, "let
us rejoice as they rejoice who have found again those whom they fancied
they had lost, and now let me bless you as a father may bless his son
when he is about to undertake a long journey."

And then he placed his trembling hands on his son's head, while his eyes
looked up to Heaven, and his dumb lips murmured an inaudible prayer to
the Lord of life and death.

"And now, my son, brace yourself up for your long journey!"

But Maria came rushing towards them.

"To work, my friend! bear a hand! The evil game has begun. Let us but
gain half an hour and all our lives will be saved."

"Who is that apparition," whispered old Hetfalusy to his son, "who has
twice descended from Heaven to save us?"

Imre looked with some hesitation at Maria, the girl gazed back at him
encouragingly.

"Yes, tell him! Why not? I am your wife, the famous Maria Kamienszka,
and this is not the first time I have been in the midst of a scrimmage.
Courage, my father, your son is now in your embrace, and in half an hour
your grand-daughter will be there also. Trust in God and be not
faint-hearted!"

"Ah, yes!" whispered the old man, with a transfigured countenance and a
voice full of enthusiasm, "this cannot be the hour of my death, no, my
God! it cannot, cannot be!"

The youth and the valiant young woman then warmly pressed each other's
hands, and hastened back to their posts. It was indeed high time.

The besiegers, after swarming all over the castle, had come at last upon
the barred and bolted door, and with the bloodthirsty h