me seat (the old black leather
sofa), and consequently not very far apart.

All at once we heard a noise in the kitchen.

"Holy Saint Stephen! it may be thieves!" cried Esztike trembling, and
drawing still closer to me.

Who would not feel courageous under such circumstances? For my part, I
felt capable of unheard-of heroism; and assuring her that she had
nothing to fear from a dozen robbers as long as I was there, I seized
a pistol (without a trigger) from the wall, while Esztike, encouraged
by my boldness, took the candle, and we advanced, to the door. I
opened it. Esztike uttered a loud scream, and extinguished the light.
The outer door was open, and a dark form advanced towards us.

"St. Barbara, help!" I sincerely ejaculated. "Who is there?" I
exclaimed, in as loud a voice as I was master of, at the same time
presenting the triggerless pistol at the black form.

"Thunder and storms! and who are you, I should like to know? Lightning
and fury!"--

"Uyueyue! my worthy uncle!" I cried, each word sounding like a squib let
off at my ear; and making a dash for the door, the next instant I was
outside. But here I was stopped; the flaps of my coat having been
caught in the heavy gate, I could neither turn nor extricate myself,
but remained hanging by my wings like a cockchafer.

In vain I pulled and kicked, praying that the flaps of my only holiday
coat might be torn off, while I heard my uncle deliberately opening
the door behind me.

"He will make mince-meat of me," thought I; and exerting all my
remaining strength, I tore myself from the flaps and fell to the
ground.

"Now for it--fly!" I exclaimed; and starting up, my legs bore me with
supernatural agility towards the forest.

"Stop, rascal!" roared my pursuer behind me, "or I will shoot you
through the head."

I only ran the faster.

"Stop!" he roared again, "or I will shoot you through the legs."

As I had not stopped for the sake of my head, I naturally had no
superior partiality for my legs; and so we continued to run--Heaven
knows how long!--until we were a good way through the forest. Neither
of us had the slightest idea of capitulating; but I began to perceive
that the distance between us was gradually decreasing (the old man had
learned to run in 1809),[55] and I began to smell the brass-headed
cane very near me.

[Footnote 55: Alluding to the flight of the Hungarian volunteers at
Raab, before Napoleon.]

My worthy uncle had been endeavourin