e gray cloth, with a gaping wound in his head; his left
hand clutched the rushes among which he had fallen. As Katharina, in her
peasant gown, moved timidly across the open space, she heard a voice say
faintly in Hungarian:

"For God's sake, good woman, give me a drink of water."

Without stopping to question whether he was friend or foe, Katharina
caught up the metal helmet to fetch the water.

There was water everywhere about her, but it was the filthy water of
the morass.

Katharina remembered having heard that the shepherds of the Hansag, when
they were thirsty, cut a reed and thrust it deep into the swampy earth,
when clear, drinkable water would rise from the lower soil. She
therefore thrust a long cane into the moist earth, then put her lips to
it, and sucked up the water. On removing her lips a clear stream shot
upward from the cane. She held the helmet under this improvised fountain
until it was full, then returned with it to the rose-bush.

The wounded man was lying on his back, his bloodstained face upturned
toward the sky. Katharina knelt by his side, and held the helmet to his
lips.

"Themire!" gasped the wounded man.

At sound of the name a sudden fury seemed to seize the woman.

"De Fervlans!" she cried, in a hoarse voice. "_You!_ you, the accursed
destroyer of my daughter! May God refuse to forgive you for making of me
the wretched creature I am!"

As she spoke she raised the helmet, of water above her head, as if she
would dash it upon the dying man's face; but he turned his head away
from her furious gaze, and did not stir again.

Slowly Katharina lowered the helmet, and struggled with her excited
feelings. She looked about her, and saw another motionless form lying
across a clump of turf. Perhaps he was still alive. Perhaps she might
help him.

She stepped quickly to his side with the helmet of water and washed the
blood and mud-stains from his face. Ah, what a hideous face it was! All
the same, she carefully washed it, then bathed the gaping wounds in his
head. They were horribly deep, and she was almost overcome by the
fearful sight. But she looked upward for a moment, and it seemed to her
as if she recognized amid the fleecy clouds a snow-white form, and heard
an encouraging voice say:

"That is right, mother. I, too, performed such work."

Then she took her handkerchief and bound it around the wounded man's
head. While so doing her eyes fell on the steel ring on his thumb.

"Sata