is terrified senses, found
himself again in the narrow, ominous chamber; but now, instead of the
stout, red-faced gentleman, he stood before a lean, black gentleman,
who, when he understood the charge against the prisoner, without
permitting any explanation, condemned him to three months'
imprisonment, informing him that henceforth, unless he wished to fare
worse, he would exclaim, "Success to the imperial armies, the great
constitution, and the one and powerful Austria!"

And the nailsmith, having made three steps beyond his prison door, was
brought back to renew his captivity, and ponder over his strange fate.

* * * * *

The three months had again passed over. It was some time in June.

The humane Master Janos did not fail to release his captive. The poor
man began at his prison door to declaim the redeeming words of "Long
live Prince Windischgraetz! success to glorious Austria!"

Master Janos laid his hand upon his sword, as if to protect himself
from this incorrigible man.

"What! was it not enough to imprison you twice? Have you not yet
learned what you should say? Have the kindness to step in here."

And for the third time they entered the narrow chamber.

Instead of the meagre, black gentleman, it was again the fat,
red-faced gentleman before whom our victim was called in question for
his repeated crime.

"Obstinate traitor!" he exclaimed; "are you aware of the extent of
your offence, and that if I did not condemn you to an imprisonment of
three months on my own responsibility, instead of giving you up to
justice, you would be cut into four quarters, as you deserve?"

The unhappy nailsmith must needs rejoice, in his extreme terror, at
the mildness of the punishment.

"But what should I have said?" he asked his lenient judge, in a voice
of despair.

"What should you have said? why, Success to the republic! Success to
democracy! Success to revolution!"

The poor man repeated the three injunctions, and promising faithfully
to attend to them, he resigned himself patiently to a new lease of his
dark abode.

* * * * *

During the ensuing three months, everything had changed except the
good fortune of Master Janos. Neither time nor chance could succeed in
displacing him, as they had so many others. He was still vice-jailer
of the noble city of Pesth, as he had formerly been.

It was now September. The nailsmith's penalty was out, and Mast