Flight was impossible. There were but two alternatives--surrender or death.
The Magyars chose the latter, and, gripping our swords firmly, we went straight at the grey-coated mass, and were instantly swallowed up.
There was no time for parrying of blows; we had to take our chance, and, cutting and thrusting, try to force a passage.
"Follow me, my lads! follow me!" I shouted, as long as my voice held out, but before the end of the fight I was past speaking.
I do not know how many of us got through. My head was dizzy, my sight dim. I heard a babel of sounds without being able to distinguish one, and sat my horse only by mechanically gripping the pommel of my saddle.
Then a number of black figures surrounded me; and in the midst of this, to me, phantom army I swept on into the land of darkness.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE SURRENDER.
It seemed perfectly natural that the first face to meet my waking senses should be that of Mecsey Sándor.
I was lying on a bed in a little room, rather bare of furniture, but scrupulously clean, and my trusty servant stood looking at me.