Rakoczy, who knew how terribly my brother suffered under what he deemed a disgrace, tried to cheer him.
"Don't fret about it, my boy," he exclaimed brightly; "'twas not your fault. The count had the luck--that's all. No one who knows you will question your courage."
"It's very kind of you to speak like that," my brother replied, "but all the talking in the world won't alter the facts. Perhaps I shall feel better after the next attempt."
"There's no need to try again," I said stoutly. "You did your best, and can't be blamed because the guides missed the route."
"Do you think I will let a shadow of reproach rest on our name?" he said. "Don't try to turn me, George; it is useless. My mind is made up, and, with or without the general's leave, I mean to take part in the next assault."
The colonel signed to me to let the subject drop, which I did, and presently we all sat down to breakfast.
After the meal and an hour's sleep, Stephen said he must report himself to the general, and Rakoczy made an excuse for us to go with him.
"He may drop across Beula," whispered the colonel, "and if we're there the meeting will be less awkward."
Rakoczy guessed rightly. We found the count near Görgei's tent, the centre of an admiring group of officers, to whom he was relating the events of the previous night.
He carried himself with his usual swagger, and catching sight of us, cried jovially,--