"Go down, sweet, to your bridegroom," said the old woman, who was totally deaf to her complaints, "or he will seek you here."
Alvina descended to the banquet hall, uncertain what course to pursue. Escape appeared impossible, and what little she knew of Radetsky convinced her that he was as pitiless and base as her reputed father. She sank into a seat, pale, inanimate, and despairing.
At that moment, ere any one present could say a word, a man, white with terror, rushed into the hall, and stammered out,—
"My lord count!"
"What is it, fellow? Speak!"
"The Cossacks!" cried the man. And his information was confirmed by a loud hurrah, or rather yell, that rose without.
"Raise the drawbridge!" cried the count. "Curses on it!" he added, "I had forgotten that drawbridge and portcullis, every means of defence, were gone long ago."
"The Cossacks are in the court yard!" cried a second servant, rushing in.
"A thousand curses on the dogs!" cried Radetsky, drawing his sword. "Count, look to your child; I will to the court yard with your fellows, to do what we may."
By this time the court yard of the castle was filled with uproar and turmoil. The clashing of swords was mingled with pistol shots and groans, the shouts of triumph and the shrieks of despair. Alvina, left alone by her father and Radetsky, trembled not at the prospect of approaching death; she felt only joy at her deliverance from the arms of a hated bridegroom. But when the crackling of flames was heard, when a lurid light streamed up against the window, when wreaths of smoke began to pour in from the corridors, the instinct of self-preservation awakened in her breast, and almost unconsciously she shrieked aloud for help.