The Red, White, and Green Part 42

I stretched out my hand for the food eagerly, alarmed by Sandor's suggestion, as the worthy fellow intended I should be.

It must have done me good, though I ate and drank mechanically, hardly knowing, indeed, what I did.

The morning pa.s.sed very slowly. Twice the kind-hearted surgeon returned; but, as he had said, nothing could be done--we had only to wait for the end.

Towards the middle of the afternoon I discovered Rakoczy standing near me.

He had been badly wounded, and his proper place was in the hospital; but, like a stanch friend, he had come directly his hurts were dressed to share my grief.

"Is there no hope?" he asked.

I shook my head. "The surgeon says he will die before the day is out."

"Poor old Stephen!"

That was all--not a long rigmarole of words, but just a few that came from his heart.

Then we sat and watched the dying lad in silence. Even now the pain I felt was more like that caused by a horrid nightmare than by a proper understanding of the truth.

Could this swathed and bandaged figure really be my bonny brother--he who so short a time back was full of life, and hope, and energy?

So motionless he lay, so still, that I frequently pressed my lips to his to find if he still breathed.

Had it been possible, I would willingly have changed places with him; for Stephen had ever been the object of my fondest love.

"George!"

The sound almost brought the tears to my eyes, it was so feeble, and recalled so vividly the memory of our childhood.

I gazed lovingly into the dear face, already taking the hue of death.

"I am dying, George, but don't grieve for me. With a good conscience, death is not hard, and I have tried to do my duty. Our father is smiling on me, and I am content. Is that Rakoczy? Dear old friend!

True as steel! Is it evening? My sight is dim. Closer, brother; let me feel you. Ah!"

I thought he had drawn his last breath, but presently he rallied.

"Rakoczy," he said very feebly, "good-bye! Tell the general. Remember me sometimes. What's that? John, you are weeping! 'John the Joyous'

in tears--and for me? Good-bye, brother; G.o.d bless you."

I placed my arm tenderly round his neck, and kissed him. I could not make answer in any other way; the words choked in my throat.

Just at the last he whispered,--

"George, stand by Gorgei. He is the true patriot."

As we bent over him, he smiled at us with infinite tenderness; then his eyes closed, and his breathing became hard; he tried to speak, but only one word escaped his lips, and that so faint we could not tell if it were my name or the general's.

Rakoczy touched my arm.

"G.o.d has taken your brother to Himself!" he exclaimed solemnly.

I heard him in a dazed way, and with true thoughtfulness he retired, leaving me alone to battle with my grief.

I will not dwell upon the despair that wellnigh overwhelmed me. There are secrets of the heart that one does not betray even to the dearest of friends; but all who have lost some loved one will readily enter into my sufferings.

When Rakoczy returned, I wiped away my tears and stood up, ready, though my heart was nearly breaking, to act in a manner worthy of him who had gone from me.

The general, who, since the opening of the campaign, had grown very fond of my brother, gave orders that he should have a grand military funeral, and a.s.sisted at the ceremony himself.

We wrapped the dead lad in the flag he had carried so bravely to the front, and buried him on the very spot where he fell.

They told me afterwards that Count Beula was there to show respect to his late opponent; but I did not see him, and had no wish to do so.

I cannot pretend that Stephen was blameless in the matter, but, rightly or wrongly, I looked on the count as being partly responsible for my brother's death, and hated him.

The last volley was fired, the band struck up a spirited air, the troops marched off the ground, and after a while I was left alone to indulge my grief at the side of the newly-made grave.

CHAPTER XVI.

_I JOIN THE STAFF._

The fortress of Buda fell on the twenty-second of May. It was now the fifth of June, and the twin cities, though sorely scarred by the terrible bombardments, had dressed themselves in gala costume.

All the troops--the 9th Honveds amongst them--stationed in the two towns were a.s.sembled under arms; and the men of the artillery on both sides of the Danube stood to their guns.

A glance at the streets, however, showed that the citizens did not antic.i.p.ate any fighting.

The scene was a most animated one, and under happier circ.u.mstances I should doubtless have enjoyed the brilliant spectacle. Hundreds of gay flags--the red, white, and green stripes predominant--fluttered from the cupolas of the buildings; arches of garlands stretched across the streets; the people, dressed in their best finery, and many of them carrying splendid bouquets, promenaded to and fro, or occupied good positions from which to view the coming pageant.

All along the route from the railway station the windows were crowded by richly-dressed ladies and children, craning their necks to catch the first sight of the hero.

As our regiment marched to take its place, I could not help thinking of the many ruined families and the hundreds of wounded soldiers to whom this pageant must seem little more than a hollow mockery.

"I don't think this triumphal entry shows good taste on his part," I remarked to Dobozy, after we had halted.

"Suit him capitally!" declared he. "It's just like a stage-play. Did you hear how he is coming from Szolnok?"

"By rail, I suppose."

"Yes, and in the emperor's private carriage. Anything's good enough for a thorough-paced republican."

"I suppose his wife accompanies him?"