Of all their number, one alone had reached the goal, and he was a prisoner.

The Viennese cheered like mad; Bern gave some orders to his artillerymen; the imperialists covered the retreat of their allies by a sharp musketry fire.

Then both sides paused--the insurgents smilingly secure in their stronghold, their opponents to get ready for a fresh attack. With many other non-combatants, we had climbed to the roof of a house, from which we obtained a splendid view.

"The Austrians are going to do the work," said Stephen, who had a strong prejudice against irregular troops.

"It's throwing life away," answered our companion; and even I, who knew much less of military matters than he did, felt that the drilled infantry had little chance of success.

However, they were forming steadily for the a.s.sault. The officers sprang to the front, holding their swords unsheathed, the drums beat the advance, and the regiment moved on with the regularity of clockwork.

They made a brilliant spectacle, those hardy veterans, with heads erect, and resolute, determined faces, marching to destruction like one vast machine.

Faster and faster their feet moved, faster and faster the drums beat, rataplan, rataplan, till the music got into their bodies, and with a "Vivat der Prinz!" they broke into a swift run. I looked at the Polish leader; he stood like some genius of the conflict, directing and even controlling the progress of the strife.

The infantry, although advancing so swiftly, never for an instant got out of hand. As one man fell, another filled the gap; and when we last saw them before the thick smoke shut out the view, they were in even lines, shoulder to shoulder, as if on parade.

Crash, crash, went the heavy guns, and the shot and sh.e.l.l ploughed through the solid ranks, making great gaps, as we well knew, though nothing was visible till the sulphur cloud lifted.

The attack, like the two preceding it, had failed miserably. Would they try again? It really seemed like it, though in the three a.s.saults they had been punished fearfully.

"They may keep on like that all the afternoon," said Rakoczy, "but they won't take the barricade. These front attacks are useless. I wonder the Ban permits them. Oh, there's the reason! See!" and he pointed toward the barricade.

Everything there was in confusion. While most of the citizen fighters clung to their posts, many ran or tried to run away.

In vain the Polish general exposed himself with the utmost recklessness; the position was lost.

While one body of Croats, supported by the Austrian infantry, had been attacking in front, the remainder, led by Ban Jellachich, had fought their way through the suburb of Leopoldstadt, and clearing the Avenue of the Emperor Francis, had fallen upon the barricade in the rear.

"Forward, forward!" rang out the cry at our feet, and the whole force advanced at a run.

The Austrians charged with bayonets levelled; the Croats, discarding their stanitzas, gripped their handjars, and with loud shouts hurled themselves against the position.

Between these two forces the Viennese were crushed. The gunners stood bravely by their guns till they were cut down. Bern appeared to be tranquilly giving orders; half a hundred students, banding themselves into a solid body, fought doggedly; but from the moment Jellachich's troops arrived the issue was certain.

A great burst of cheering rose when the black and yellow standard of the Austrians and the red, white, and blue of the Croats fluttered side by side on the summit of the barricade.

The fight, in that place at least, was over; the citizens had disappeared. The imperialists embraced each other, shook one another by the hand, laughed and danced and waved their caps in the air, shouted for Jellachich and the emperor, and finally ran on to pursue their victorious career. Round the captured barricade the dead lay thick, and the wounded as usual moaned piteously for water.

We went amongst them, doing the little that was possible to ease their pain, and helping to remove some into safer quarters.

To add to the horror, one of the houses caught fire, and it was feared that the whole street would soon be ablaze.

Farther off we could hear the booming of the heavy guns, the sharp rattle of musketry, the shouts of the combatants, the cheers and counter-cheers which told us how the battle was going.

From time to time, too, people brought reports of the fight, and they all boded ill to the insurgents.

The railway station of Gloggnitz, the Hotel des Invalides, the Veterinary School, were taken one after the other by the imperialists, who, when night fell, were practically masters of the suburbs of Leopoldstadt and Landstra.s.se.

And such a night as that twenty-eighth of October I had never beheld.

The town was on fire in more than twenty different places. Half the houses of the two suburbs were riddled by shot and sh.e.l.l; the flames were consuming the other half.

Red tongues of fire leaped into the sky, forming a grand but terrible spectacle.

The homeless people stood in the streets, some hopelessly dazed and stupid, others fighting the flames as st.u.r.dily as they had fought the Austrians; while a few philosophers, who had nothing at stake, looked on calmly at the conflagration.

As for us, our time was fully occupied in removing the wounded from the burning or threatened buildings. Throughout the night we toiled, and it was pleasant to see the genial Rakoczy, with his bright, cheerful face, giving water here, binding up a wound there, or helping to carry a sick man to a safer shelter.

A few kind words, a cheery smile, a pressure of the hand, a look of sympathy, he distributed impartially; and men of various nationalities must have blessed the handsome Hungarian, who spent himself so freely in their service.

Several times we had to face the gravest dangers. Houses were burning, walls falling; but the helpless must be rescued, and Rakoczy, never blenching himself, inspired confidence in others.

Many pitiful little dramas took place in the streets, where women and children searched, often, alas! in vain, for the bodies of their loved ones.

Thus the night pa.s.sed, and the return of day revealed the horrors of the scene more plainly still.

During the hours of darkness there had been something grand about the conflagration. The great red blotches lighting up the sky, the vivid tongues of fire leaping, as it seemed, sportively from point to point, darting here and there, now joining, now separating, throwing into bold relief some n.o.ble building which again was lost in the black smoke, bringing into view the varied uniforms of the victorious soldiery--all these things powerfully seized the imagination, crowding out the more prosaic horrors.

Daylight restored the true proportion of things, and it was indeed a sorrowful sight on which we gazed.

Charred and blackened walls met us at every turn; half-consumed houses, battered and ruined buildings, huge gaps in the streets where the fire-fiend had worked his will; and, worse than all, the white-faced, sad-eyed women and innocent children, bereaved alike of home and of the strong arms that had hitherto been their support.

Some, wringing their hands in despair, cried aloud the names of their lost ones; the majority, dazed by grief, sought silently and with an unremitting patience that touched the hearts of the beholders.

The fighting, as far as we could tell, had long since ceased, and was not renewed.

A rumour spread that the chiefs had sent to ask for a suspension of hostilities while they talked over the terms of surrender, and I thought they acted very wisely.

"Bound to submit," said Rakoczy cheerfully, "they can't do anything else. A revolution seldom succeeds unless the army joins the people."

We spent the day amongst the wounded, and at night, a capitulation having been agreed on, helped to convey some of them into the city.

Then, quite worn out by thirty-six hours of continuous labour, we went to our lodgings, and after eating a little food, lay down to rest.

Rakoczy, who lived in another house, joined us the next morning at breakfast, and we sat for an hour talking over our plans.

Stephen was anxious to leave Vienna at the first opportunity, and as Rakoczy had finished his private business, it was arranged that we should do so.

"We will go and see the imperialists march in," remarked John; "afterwards it will be easy to slip away."

Accordingly we went out, and found the streets filled with excited people who were shouting tumultuously, "Long live the brave Hungarians!"

"What's the meaning of this craze?" Stephen asked, looking at us in surprise.

"Something up," said Rakoczy, "and something queer too. Let us follow the crowd; we shall soon learn."

"Strange there should be so few students and National Guards about," I remarked.