"My place is with the first column," said Stephen calmly.

"Ah! I lead the fourth. I am going now to see the general, but, as you say, we shall meet in the fortress," and he lounged off.

As the count had stated, the breach was considered practicable, but the great guns thundered on, doing as much damage as was possible before the a.s.sault took place.

Our regiment, being the farthest off, was to start first; but the evening wore away, and Rakoczy had not received any definite orders.

Always careful of his men, he made them turn in early; but we officers sat or stood about in groups, talking over the chances of the coming a.s.sault.

It was nearly midnight when Stephen, who had been sent for by the chief, returned, and we crowded eagerly round him, anxious to know what had been decided.

My brother first delivered his message to the colonel; but as no secret was made of it, we soon learned that the a.s.sault was fixed for the first streak of dawn.

Several of the officers now went to get an hour's rest, but Stephen and I pa.s.sed the time with the colonel, who maintained a cheerful conversation.

Just at the last he left us alone, and it was only then I discovered the real state of my feelings.

Stephen, too, was much affected; but he carried it off well--not lightly or vaingloriously, but as a brave lad should.

I thought, and think still, he was greatly to blame for getting into such a sc.r.a.pe; but no one could blame his conduct afterwards.

"Let us say farewell, dear old fellow," he whispered, "in case one of us should not return. If I fall, remember you are the head of the Botskay family, and that our father died fighting for his king."

"I don't forget; and if my time has come, take this ring and portrait to the ladies at Vienna, and say a word of farewell to the fraulein."

At this he threw off his grave air, and joked me pleasantly, so that when the signal was made to fall in, we took our places in quite a cheerful humour.

My brother, of course, went with the stormers, while we followed closely in support.

It was still dark, but we trusted the guides to keep us straight, and calculated on arriving at the breach as soon as dawn broke.

No one spoke, and hardly a sound was heard as the column wound its stealthy way along.

By this time the cannonade had ceased, and it seemed also as if the sorely-hara.s.sed garrison had ventured to take a short rest. Tramp, tramp, we marched along, pausing at intervals to give the rear of the column time to close up.

The men with the scaling-ladders were out of sight, but we kept on in the weird and eerie darkness, expecting every moment to see the flash of the rockets, and to hear the thunder of the guns.

All was, however, silent, and I wondered we had come across no sign of the other columns.

I don't know why it should have done so, but the truth suddenly flashed into my mind--we had lost our way.

I spoke to the colonel, and it was obvious he shared my opinion.

"Yes," said he quietly. "We certainly ought to be in touch with them by now. Run forward and question the guides."

I did so with difficulty, but might have spared myself the trouble.

They had lost their heads completely, and were painfully groping their way, now in this direction, now that.

Remembering Stephen's scornful words about Count Beula losing the route in the dark, I dared not speak to my brother, but hurried back to Rakoczy.

I had barely told him the story, when far on the left the guns roared out. Bright flashes of flame leaped from their muzzles, telling us that the garrison was on the alert, and that we were not at hand to help our comrades.

I hardly heard the colonel's orders. My head was in a whirl. I walked or ran just when and where the others did, wondering all the time what Stephen would do.

What a triumph for Count Beula!

Hitherto I had feared for my brother's life; now I would have cheerfully laid down mine that he might have a chance of risking his. Guided by the flashes of light and the sound of the guns, we ran on, hoping we might yet be in time to strike one blow.

The dawn was breaking; we could see our way more clearly, and were getting near enough to hear the shouts and cries of the combatants.

"Forward, my brave lads! forward!" I cried excitedly. "We shall do it yet!" But alas for my hopes! Suddenly there came a wave of cheering, and then, as if to herald the first pink streak of the opening day, the triumphant notes were heard of a song well known to most of us. The attack had failed. The victorious garrison were jubilantly singing the Austrian National Anthem, "Heil, unser Kaiser, heil!" as our three shattered columns hastily fled.

Seeing that for the present all was lost, Rakoczy halted his column, and in shame and confusion we retraced our steps.

Really it was a fortunate circ.u.mstance we had thus blundered, as the breach was not fit, and the scaling-ladders had been found too short for their purpose.

Our comrades, whose losses were enormous, had struggled gallantly, and by common consent the bravest man among them was Count Beula.

Everywhere we heard the most marvellous tales of his daring and recklessness. He had fought in the very front, had cheered his men again and again to the attack, and, while they fell around him in scores, had himself remained unharmed.

He had not got his foot inside Buda, but his reputation was established, and it was acknowledged he had made his vaunt good.

Rakoczy, who knew how terribly my brother suffered under what he deemed a disgrace, tried to cheer him.

"Don't fret about it, my boy," he exclaimed brightly; "'twas not your fault. The count had the luck--that's all. No one who knows you will question your courage."

"It's very kind of you to speak like that," my brother replied, "but all the talking in the world won't alter the facts. Perhaps I shall feel better after the next attempt."

"There's no need to try again," I said stoutly. "You did your best, and can't be blamed because the guides missed the route."

"Do you think I will let a shadow of reproach rest on our name?" he said. "Don't try to turn me, George; it is useless. My mind is made up, and, with or without the general's leave, I mean to take part in the next a.s.sault."

The colonel signed to me to let the subject drop, which I did, and presently we all sat down to breakfast.

After the meal and an hour's sleep, Stephen said he must report himself to the general, and Rakoczy made an excuse for us to go with him.

"He may drop across Beula," whispered the colonel, "and if we're there the meeting will be less awkward."

Rakoczy guessed rightly. We found the count near Gorgei's tent, the centre of an admiring group of officers, to whom he was relating the events of the previous night.

He carried himself with his usual swagger, and catching sight of us, cried jovially,--

"Ah! here comes my young friend who lost his way in the dark."

There was a laugh at this, which made me hot and angry; but Stephen's behaviour was, to my thinking, admirable.

His face was very white, and his lips twitched a little, but he spoke quite calmly.

"Count Beula," he said, "permit me to add my congratulations to those of your brother officers. What you did last night will never be forgotten by this army. We are not good friends, you and I, but that doesn't prevent me from admiring your bravery. Last night I failed to keep my promise; next time I may be more successful."