with a heavy veil; the younger lady wore no veil over
her pale face, but held in front of it a fan, from behind which she took
an occasional look at the variegated plain, where the ripening grain,
blended with the green of the meadows, formed a rich, carpet on either
side of the road.

The young officer riding beside the coach sought to entertain the elder
lady with observations on the country through which they were passing,
and from time to time exchanged tender glances with the younger. These
ladies were the wife and daughter of General Guillaume. They were on
their way to Raab, where they expected an addition to their party in the
person of _la Princesse Marie_, whom they were going to accompany to
Paris. The troop of cuirassiers was their escort.

"There come some _chasseurs_ on a foraging expedition," observed the
young officer, pointing toward a body of horsemen that was approaching
across the green plain.

And, judging from the appearance of the riders, he was right; for the
Volons, in order to deceive the Frenchmen, were bringing with them a
couple of loaded hay-wagons, which they were dragging through the middle
of the highway.

While yet a considerable distance away from the approaching _chasseurs_,
the postilions began to blow their horns for a clear way.

The hay-wagons were turned, in obedience to the signal, but, in turning,
the second one ran into the one in advance with such force that the pole
was broken clean off.

In front of the barricade thus formed Vavel halted his men, and
commanded them to throw off their French cloaks and helmets. In a second
the order was obeyed; the crimson shakos with their grim death-heads
were donned, and the troop dashed forward upon the escort accompanying
the coach.

The astonished cuirassiers, who were wholly unprepared for the assault,
were soon overpowered by the Volons, who also outnumbered them.

The youthful leader had at once placed himself in front of the coach,
ready for combat with the leader of the attacking foe, and Vavel was
obliged to exercise all his skill to disarm without injuring him.

At the moment when the young French champion's sword flew from his hand,
the younger lady, forgetting all ceremony, cried in terror:

"_Oh mon Dieu, ne tuez pas Arthur!_"

Ludwig Vavel turned toward her, bowed courteously, and said in Talma's
most exquisite French:

"Do not be alarmed, ladies. You are perfectly safe. We are Hungarian
gentlemen!"

"But w