The colonel had taken up his quarters in a decent house, and there at supper we were joined by the surviving officers of the regiment.
Several of the absentees were dead, but the majority were in hospital, and, though badly wounded, expected to recover.
"Just like our luck!" said the colonel, as we sat chatting over what had happened. "We took the very strongest street in the town. The other fellows had a pleasure jaunt, compared with our march."
"Who was the Austrian officer?" asked a sublieutenant. "I hope he escaped; he was a splendid chap."
"That was Baron von Arnstein," the colonel replied. "I'm sorry to say he was killed. I mean to bury him to-morrow with military honours."
"He deserves all the respect we can show him," Dobozy chimed in.
"There's one thing puzzles me, colonel," I said, "and that is, how you escaped. I saw you fall, and thought you were dead."
For the first time that night Rakoczy's face lit up with his genial smile.
"I carry a bullet-catcher," he answered pleasantly; and taking a massive gold watch from his breast-pocket, he handed it to me.
"They've spoiled it as a time-keeper," he continued, "but it will come in as a curiosity."