under the cross, he checked his horse and looked back. Was
it of his grandmother's words, or of the golden-haired Jolanka that he
thought?

A white handkerchief waved from the window.

"Farewell, light of my soul!" murmured the youth; and kissing his
hand, he once more dashed his spurs into his horse's flank, and turned
down the steep hill.

Those were strange times. All at once the villages began to be
depopulated; the inhabitants disappeared, none knew whither. The doors
of the houses were closed.

The bells were no longer heard in the evening, nor the maiden's song
as she returned from her work. The barking of dogs which had lost
their masters alone interrupted the silence of the streets, where the
grass began to grow.

Imre Bardy rode through the streets of the village without meeting a
soul; few of the chimneys had smoke, and no fires gleamed through the
kitchen windows.

Evening was drawing on, and a slight transparent mist had overspread
the valley. Imre was desirous of reaching Kolozsvar[5] early on the
next morning, and continued his route all night.

About midnight the moon rose behind the trees, shedding her silvery
light over the forest. All was still, excepting the echo of the
miner's hammer, and the monotonous sound of his horse's step along the
rocky path. He rode on, lost in thought; when suddenly the horse
stopped short, and pricked his ears.

"Come, come," said Imre, stroking his neck, "you have not heard the
cannon yet."

The animal at last proceeded, turning his head impatiently from side
to side, and snorting and neighing with fear.

The road now led through a narrow pass between two rocks, whose
summits almost met, and a slight bridge, formed of one or two rotten
planks, was thrown across the dry channel of a mountain stream which
cut up the path.

As Imre reached the bridge, the horse backed, and no spurring could
induce him to cross. Imre at last pressed his knee angrily against the
trembling animal, striking him at the same time across the neck with
the bridle, on which the horse suddenly cleared the chasm at one bound
and then again turned and began to back.

At that instant a fearful cry arose from beneath, which was echoed
from the rocks around, and ten or fifteen savage-looking beings
climbed from under the bridge, with lances formed of upright scythes.

Even then there would have been time for the horseman to turn back,
and dash through a handful of men behind him, but eit