: had he not been blind, the steel and not the news of
the battle would have killed him, as it killed the rest. The women of
Kezdi-Vasarhely have buried him here, that none may enter the town.
They wish to live in solitude, as becomes widows whose husbands have
fallen in battle; and therefore, blessed be the grave which shuts us
out from the world, and accursed be he who steps over it, both before
and after his death!"

The Circassian drew a white handkerchief from his bosom, and placing
it on the end of his spear, spoke to the Szekely women in a language
unknown to them, although the tone, and even the accent, seemed
familiar. He wished to tell them that he had brought peace to their
town; that they had nothing to fear from him; that he only desired
admittance. The women understood his intention, but motioned a
refusal. "In vain you bring peace!" they exclaimed; "as long as there
is a living breath here, there must be war between us and you; only
death can bring us peace. Seek quarters for your troops elsewhere; the
world is large enough--there is no rest for you here; grief reigns
alone in this town, where the ghosts of the grave wander through the
streets, women bewailing the dead, and driven by despair to
madness--depart from here!"

The action of the women, the unknown yet familiar tones, awakened a
strange sad echo in the heart of the young Circassian, as he stood
supported on his lance, looking on the mourners before him.

Brought up in the stern exercise of military duty, he was accustomed
to fulfil the word of command, without regard to circumstances; but
now his strength seemed to fail him, and he hesitated to force his way
through a party of weak women.

"Take the white handkerchief from your lance," cried Judith, "and
steep it in our heart's blood--then you may enter our town;" and as he
leapt into the saddle, several of the women threw themselves before
his horse's feet, causing the animal to rear and neigh.

But the Circassian remembered that he had a beloved mother at home
whose words so much resembled those of that proud matron--and sisters,
and a young bride, beautiful as those young girls who had thrown
themselves before his horse's feet--with just such dark glorious eyes,
sad features, and light forms; and his heart failed him. He turned
quickly aside, that the women might not see the tears which filled his
eyes; and then, dashing his spurs into his horse's side, he once more
waved his white han