tral fluid streamed down upon
the floor like a water fall and, gradually gaining ground, forced the
flaming _palinka_[31] back further and further, till at last the
infernal blue light was gradually extinguished.

[Footnote 31: Hungarian brandy.]

By that time, however, the beautiful bride was a sight of horror, her
face was burnt out of all recognition.

Every member of the party had received injuries from the fire. Some of
them, already blinded, writhed in agony on the ground and dipped their
faces in the cool puddles formed by the flowing beer. Old Onucz had not
a hair of his head left, but for all that he was still sitting on a heap
of ducats, which were rolling in every direction out of the half charred
sacks. His scorched hands he dug down deep among his ducats, and
thought, perhaps, that they would assuage his pangs.

Both of Juon Tare's eyes had been burnt out by an explosion of
gunpowder, and two of the soldiers had also received serious injuries.

Only after the general terror had subsided a little, did it occur to
someone that now that the fire had been brought under, Fatia Negra might
be pursued. This someone was the bride.

It was she who seized a new torch, it was she who cried to the soldiers:
"After me!" and was the first to tear open the door of the
smelting-furnace. Within was darkness. By torchlight they explored every
corner of that underground world--but Fatia Negra was nowhere to be
found.

CHAPTER XIV

THE MIKALAI CSARDA

From Hidvar to Gyula Fehervar is a good day's journey, even with the
best horses and in the best weather; in the rainy season the mountain
streams make the journey still longer. Fortunately, exactly half-way
lies the Mikalai _csarda_, in which dwells a good honest Wallachian
gentleman who also follows the profession of innkeeper. In these mining
regions there are no Jews, all the inns and _csardas_ are in the hands
of the Armenians and Wallachs: the people are content with them and the
Hungarian gentry like them.

Young Makkabesku had built up his den in a most picturesque situation
beside a stream gushing down from among the mountains and forming a
waterfall close to the very house. This stream possessed the peculiar
property of turning to stone every leaf and twig which fell into it,
even the branches of the trees hanging over it were turned into pretty
white petrifactions so far as the water was able to reach them.

Domnul Makkabesku did not carry on the