After dinner I sat half an hour longer, while Mecsey got the horses ready, and then I was reluctantly compelled to say farewell.
"Take care of yourself," said the count, "and come and see us whenever you have a chance. We are rather lonely here."
"Good-bye, Captain Botskay," said his wife; "and I hope sincerely that no harm will come to you in this cruel war."
I promised to visit them again should opportunity arise, and, with a last hand-shake, joined Mecsey, who had the horses ready.
Nicholas, too, came to guide us a few miles on the road, and amidst the cheers of the domestics the three of us set off.
Mecsey and Nicholas were good company for each other. I rode a short distance behind them, wondering if I should find Görgei in time for my information to be of use.
The night was fine, calm, and still. There was no moon, but the stars glittered in myriads overhead, serving to show the route.
In those days our best roads were shocking to a stranger, but the cuts across country were simply abominable.
Several times that night I escaped a nasty--perhaps fatal--accident solely through the intelligence of my horse.
Having accompanied us five or six miles, and given Mecsey full directions as to the way, Nicholas pulled up, wished us farewell, and started for home.