However, the count, whom we had not seen since the revolt in Vienna, had no mind that we should pass unrecognized.
He was dressed in the uniform of a staff officer, and walked with a military swagger that was not without a certain grace.
At first he affected astonishment at seeing us in the Honved uniform, saying he thought we had joined the Austrians. Then he congratulated us on the declaration of independence, and hoped we should have a part in the capture of Buda.
All this he spoke in the smoothest tones, choosing his words so that they might wound and yet afford no handle for offence, smiling when he hurt us most, pretending he thought we were pleased, and inquiring for Stephen, whom he hated, as if the two were the closest friends.
I, being young, could not conceal my annoyance; but Rakoczy gave the count smile for smile, jest for jest, praise of Kossuth in return for praise of Görgei, and, in fact, as the French say, a Roland for his Oliver every time.
"A clever, smooth-tongued rascal," exclaimed he, when at length the count took himself off. "I wonder where he has been."
"At Debreczin, most likely; he's just the sort of man to do his soldiering in the drawing-room."
"I'm not so sure of that. A boaster isn't always a coward. Did you hear what he said about the taking of Buda?"
"Yes."
"That comes from Kossuth, you may depend; and if so, all is lost."