Part 35 (1/2)

”That's the trump for you,” said Marton, ”that's Moczli. I know Moczli, he's a sharp fellow, without him we should never have found our way here. Well, sir, and whither now?”

This remark was made to Lorand. My brother was acquainted with the jesting old fellow, and had often heard his humorous anecdotes, when he came to see me.

”At all events away from Pressburg, old man.”

”But which way? I think the best would be over the bridge, through the park.”

”But very many people pa.s.s there. Someone might recognize me.”

”Then straight along the Danube, down-stream; by morning you will reach the ferry at Muhlau, where they will ferry you over for two kreuzers.

Have you some change? You must always have that. Men on foot must always pay in copper, or they will be suspected. It's a pity I didn't know sooner, I could have lent you a pa.s.sport. You might have travelled as a baker's a.s.sistant.”

”I shall travel as a 'legatus.'[52]”

[Footnote 52: A travelling preacher. A kind of missionary sent out by the ”Legatio.”]

”That will do finely.”

Meantime we reached the end of the street. Lorand wished to bid us farewell.

”Oho!” said Marton, ”we shall accompany you to the outskirts of the town; we cannot leave you alone until you are in a secure place, on the high-road. Do you know what? You two go on in advance and I shall remain close behind, pretending to be a little drunk. Patrols are in the street. If I sing loudly they will waste their attention on me, and will not bother you. If necessary, I shall pitch into them, and while they are running me in, you can go on. To you, Master Lorand, I give my stick for the journey. It's a good, honest stick. I have tramped all over Germany with it. Well, G.o.d bless you.”

The old fellow squeezed Lorand's hand.

”I have a mind to say something. But I shall say nothing. It is well just as it is,--I shall say nothing. G.o.d bless you, sir.”

Therewith the old man dropped back, and began to brawl some yodling air in the street, and to thump the doors with his fists, in accompaniment, like some drunken reveller.

”Hai-dia-do.”

Taking each other's hand we hastened on. The streets were already very dark here.

At the end of the town are barracks, before which we had to pa.s.s: the cry of the sentinel sounded in the distance. ”Who goes there? Guard out!” and soon behind our backs we heard the squadron of hors.e.m.e.n clattering on the pavement.

Marton did just as he had said. He pitched into the guard. Soon we heard a dream-disturbing uproar, as he fell into a noisy discussion with the armed authorities.

”I am a citizen! A peaceful, harmless citizen! Fugias Mathias (this to us)! Ten gla.s.ses of beer are not the world! I am a citizen, Fugias Mathias is my name! I will pay for every thing. If I have broken any bottles I will pay for them. Who says I am shouting? I am singing.

'Hai-dia-do;' let any one who doesn't like it try to sing more beautifully himself!”

We were already outside of the town, and still we heard the terrible noise which he made in his self-sacrifice for our sakes.

As we came out into the open, we were both able to breathe more freely; the starry sky is a good shelter.

The cold, too, compelled us to hasten. We had walked a good half-hour among the vineyards, when suddenly something occurred to Lorand.

”How long do you wish to accompany me?”

”Until day breaks. In this darkness I should not dare to return to the town alone.”