airs, to see Count Yanski Varhely, who, doubtless, had come from Paris
to ask some favor of the minister. The Austrian diplomats smiled as they
heard the name of the old soldier of '48 and '49. So, the famous fusion
of parties proclaimed in 1875 continued! Every day some sulker of former
times rallied to the standard. Here was this Varhely, who, at one time,
if he had set foot in Austria-Hungary, would have been speedily cast into
the Charles barracks, the jail of political prisoners, now sending in his
card to the minister of the Emperor; and doubtless the minister and the
old commander of hussars would, some evening, together pledge the new
star of Hungary, in a beaker of rosy Crement!

"These are queer days we live in!" thought the Austrian diplomats.

The minister, of whom Yanski Varhely demanded an audience, his Excellency
Count Josef Ladany, had formerly commanded a legion of Magyar students,
greatly feared by the grenadiers of Paskiewisch, in Hungary. The soldiers
of Josef Ladany, after threatening to march upon Vienna, had many times
held in check the grenadiers and Cossacks of the field-marshal. Spirited
and enthusiastic, his fair hair floating above his youthful forehead like
an aureole, Ladany made war like a patriot and a poet, reciting the
verses of Petoefi about the camp-fires, and setting out for battle as for
a ball. He was magnificent (Varhely remembered him well) at the head of
his students, and his floating, yellow moustaches had caused the heart of
more than one little Hungarian patriot to beat more quickly.

Varhely would experience real pleasure in meeting once more his old
companion in arms. He remembered one afternoon in the vineyards, when his
hussars, despite the obstacles of the vines and the irregular ground, had
extricated Ladany's legion from the attack of two regiments of Russian
infantry. Joseph Ladany was standing erect upon one of his cannon for
which the gunners had no more ammunition, and, with drawn sabre, was
rallying his companions, who were beginning to give way before the enemy.
Ah, brave Ladany! With what pleasure would Varhely grasp his hand!

The former leader had doubtless aged terribly--he must be a man of
fifty-five or fifty-six, to-day; but Varhely was sure that Joseph Ladany,
now become minister, had preserved his generous, ardent nature of other
days.

As he crossed the antechambers and lofty halls which led to the
minister's office, Varhely still saw, in his mind's e