rse, and
placing him before him ere the savage horde had returned, he had
galloped some distance along the road from whence the youth had come,
covering him with his mantle as he passed the bridge, to conceal him
from several of the gang who stood there, and exclaiming, "Follow me
to the Topanfalvo."

As soon as they were out of sight, he suddenly turned to the left,
down a steep, hilly path, and struck into the depth of the forest.

The morning sun had just shot its first beams across the hills,
tinting with golden hue the reddening autumn leaves, when the young
hussar began to move in his fevered dreams, and murmured the name
"Jolanka."

In a few moments he opened his eyes. He was lying in a small chamber,
through the only window of which the sunbeams shone upon his face.

The bed on which he lay was made of lime-boughs, simply woven
together, and covered with wolves' skins. A gigantic form was leaning
against the foot of the bed with his arms folded, and as the young man
awoke, he turned round. It was the Decurio.

"Where am I?" asked the young man, vaguely endeavoring to recall the
events of the past night.

"In my house," replied Decurio.

"And who are you?"

"I am Numa, Decurio of the Roumin[6] Legion, your foe in battle, but
now your host and protector."

"And why did you save me from your men?" asked the young man, after a
short silence.

"Because the strife was unequal--a hundred against one."

"But had it not been for you, I could have freed myself from them."

"Without me you had been lost. Ten paces from where I stopped your
horse, you would inevitably have been dashed to pieces by huge stones
which they were preparing to throw down upon you from the rock."

"And you did not desire my death?"

"No, because it would have reflected dishonor on the Roumin name."

"You are a chivalrous man, Decurio!"

"I am what you are; I know your character, and the same feeling
inspires us both. You love your nation, as I do mine. Your nation is
great and cultivated; mine is despised and neglected, and my love is
more bitterly devoted. Your love for your country makes you happy;
mine deprives me of peace. You have taken up arms to defend your
country without knowing your own strength, or the number of the foe; I
have done the same. Either of us may lose, or we may both be blotted
out; but though the arms may be buried in the earth, rust will not eat
them."

"I do not understand your grievances."

"You