Rakoczy joined us at breakfast, and by his advice we ate a substantial meal before venturing out, as the time of our return was very uncertain.
"Now," said he, on rising from the table, "pistols in working order? There will be a big kravalle before the day's over."
"If it's nothing worse than that, so much the better," I replied. "A street brawl doesn't hurt."
Stephen locked the door, put the key in his pocket, and we all three went down into the street, where the people were packed like herrings in a barrel.
Men, women, and children of all classes were there--the shopkeeper, the artisan, the labourer, and the dweller in the slums who had come out expressly for plunder, and who would as soon cut a Hungarian as an Austrian throat. One of this last class, however, a brawny fellow, hatless and coatless, with arms bare to the elbow, and carrying a murderous-looking axe, professed great sympathy with the Magyars, and attached himself to Stephen, much to the latter's disgust.
John and I walked directly behind, laughing to see my rather fastidious brother in the society of the soi-disant patriot.
"Keep a brave heart, young sir!" we heard the unwashed one say, "and trust to us. We'll see you get your rights. Down with the emperor and up with the people! It's our turn now!" and he put one arm affectionately round my brother's waist.
"Bravo, comrade!" cried John, winking at me. "The brave Viennese will take care of Hungary!"
"Right you are, brother!" shouted back the brawny ruffian. "We'll join hands. Long live Hungary and the Viennese! No more emperors! No more kings! We'll have a republic and be our own masters!"
"And not do any more work!" said John.