The next verse of the song sounded very much nearer:--

"Lo! on his _kalpag_[69] see A blood-red nodding plume; A mantle black surrounds his neck, His wild eye lowers with gloom."

[Footnote 69: The tall fur hat, generally plumed, which forms part of the Hungarian national costume.]

And now I heard a woman's voice also.

Some one was telling the singer not to sing while climbing.

So there was a pair of them!

And as the singer gradually mounted higher and higher, his figure also became visible from behind the rocky ledge.

"Presumptuous mortal, quake and fear When thou his awful name dost hear: Diavolo, Diavolo, Diavolo!"

Yet n.o.body quaked so much as Fra Diavolo himself, when he perceived a human shape stretched before him on the ground as he scaled the very summit of the rocky ledge.

And certainly I was not a very rea.s.suring spectacle, as, with my sheepskin cap pressed closely to my head, and a large cudgel in my fist, I slowly rose from my knees.

I recognised him before he recognised me.

"Your servant, Balvanyossi! Why, how did you manage to get here, where not even the bird that flies can come?"

Then his terror was turned into joy.

"Ah, ha! my poet-friend! What a divine encounter here in Heaven above!"

With that he hastened up to me and we embraced.

By this time his lady companion had also got the better of the rocky zig-zag which led up to the mountain ledge.

It was now the turn of my own heart to stop beating. That female shape was Bessy--the sea-eyed beauty!

How came they two to be together? How came they to be both here at the same time?

But it was no vision. The fair lady recognised me instantly. Her face, red already from her mountain scramble, could be no redder at the sight of me, nor could her bosom heave more than it was heaving now; but on her face there was a sort of holding-back expression.

Friend Valentine perceived the look of amazed inquiry on my face, and turning with true histrionic humour towards his lady-companion, introduced her to me with the words, "My grandmother!"

At this witticism the lady laughed, and I had sufficient self-control not to reply to this introduction with a single word.

"Then come to my bosom, my son, for I am thy grandfather."

"It is very strange we should meet here," I put in.

But my friend's features suddenly darkened as if he were obeying a stage direction like, "here he suddenly a.s.sumes a grave face."

"First of all, my dear friend," said he, "I demand your word of honour not to reveal to any one in the created world that you have seen me. You know that I am now Tihamer Rengetegi till the old blonde hair grow again (what I'm wearing now is a wig); for a heavy price is fixed upon my head. A word, and I am lost. Your _parole_ that you'll say nothing about me?"

"The promise must be mutual, then," I replied. "I just as solemnly require you to say not a word to anybody about me, for I also am in hiding here."

At this he began to laugh. It was a stage laugh, for he placed his hand on his stomach, crooked his back, and turned upon his heel, choking with laughter.

"And you also are hiding away here from the Germans! Well, that _is_ a joke!"

I inquired somewhat brusquely what there was to laugh at.

"Why, at your hiding--hiding away from the Imperialists. You, of all people! Why, don't you know, then, that very many deputies defended themselves before the court-martials by declaring themselves former contributors to your _Esti Lap_?[70] Why, every one knows that you were the organ of the peace party at Debreczin. Every one is well aware that you were the ally of the Imperialists."

[Footnote 70: _Evening News_.]

At this I at once flew into a rage.

"Have you ever seen the _Esti Lap_?"

"No, I've not actually _seen_ it, but it was the general opinion among us soldiers that you were higgling with the Imperialists."

At this Bessy intervened by giving a good tug at her friend's collar.

"Rubbish! Such rumours are only circulated by pot-house heroes like yourself. He certainly was no traitor! Would that all who open their mouths so loudly were as good patriots?"

My friend, with sheepish obsequiousness, hastened to readjust his opinion to the satisfaction of his "grandmother."

"Good, good! I never believed a word of it myself--why should I?" said he.

"The best proof that I am not what calumny would make me is the fact of my meeting you here at the Pagan Altar; and again I beg of you to tell n.o.body that we have met."

Here Bessy again intervened.

"I'll answer for that. I shall now be constantly at the side of this honest gentleman, and if his tongue begins to wag, my hand will be ready to stop it for him."

Mr. Valentine laughed.

"What a woman it is! She really has a most rapid hand. Not a day pa.s.ses but she lets me feel the weight of her palm."

At this I made a very critical face. My good friend could read very well from it that I wished to know by what right his cheeks were allowed to feel the force of Bessy's rosy palms day by day.

"We met together in camp, and the field-chaplain blessed our union to the roaring of guns and the beating of drums."

That was right enough, surely!

Bessy's eyes were raised towards me as if she could add a great deal to this short history. Friend Valentine thought it good to become loudly enthusiastic.

"What a woman, my friend! A heroine! A perfect Jeanne d'Arc! We were bound together by a whole chain of wonders and exploits. She was not my consort--nay! she was much more, my companion in arms. I'll tell you the whole thing one of these days."

"That will do...."

"What? That will do? Are you, then, so poor-spirited? _I_ am ready to meet the spectres of the darkness face to face. I'll set in motion the avalanche which shall wrench the world from its hinges."