an Englishman," continued M. Danneris, "and will be very kind to
you. Remember that you owe him respect and implicit obedience."

"Then he hates the Austrians--he whose country is free knows how to
give sympathy to a poor Hungarian. This good Englishman shall see for
himself how our noble people suffer at the hands of tyrants."

"Hush, hush, Jules! You must not talk like this. Is it not
extraordinary," said M. Danneris, turning to me, "that even the very
children of this oppressed race fill their minds with a sense of
wrong?"

"No wonder," I replied, "if but half you have told me is true."

"When I am a man," flashed Jules, "I will kill the Austrians--they are
not worthy to live."

"Jules," I said soothingly, "I am just going for a stroll over the
fields toward Louvain. Ask permission from monsieur, your professor, to
join me."

Danneris smiled. "That was well done," he said. "You cannot too soon
become acquainted. Call here for the boy to-morrow midday. I will see
that he is prepared."

When I said adieu to Jules that evening, after a long ramble over the
endless corn fields that bordered the "road to Waterloo," I saw with
pleasure that I had awakened in him a generous confidence. He too had,
by his artless manner, inspired in me no common interest.

We started. Six days' journey to reach Vienna, a hundred-mile trip up
the Danube to Buda, seven leagues in a _caleche_, and we should be at
Dressdorf Castle.

Uneventful the days were. Poor Jules, weary with travel, talked but
little, for which I was appropriately thankful. It was painful to see
how he shrank from the gaze of any official who might question us a
little closely as to our destination, and to watch his quivering lips
as he muttered in response to my assurances of safety, "I trust all to
the good Englishman."

As we neared the Austrian frontier he harped more on the subject of his
Austrian wrongs, and I was frequently obliged to check him. A fire
seemed consuming the boy, a burning vengeance toward the oppressor.

We reached Vienna at dusk on the sixth day, and put up at the Hotel
d'Hollande, according to the suggestions of Danneris. Jules complained
of sick headache, and I was somewhat relieved to hear him suggest bed.

It was not till I had seen him safely settled, and had extracted a
promise from him not to leave his room, that I felt at liberty to call
a few hours my own.

Having dined, I stood on the doorstep of the hotel smoking a cigar