"You must be fonder of a hempen rope than I," he said; "but perhaps your name isn't on the proscribed list?"
"I don't know."
"Well, mine is."
"And mine," laughed Gabor. "It's been there for years. It doesn't hurt me in the least. I look on it as an honour."
"Every man to his taste," said the count. "I have no fancy to die in a hempen collar. I am no coward, but the thought of being hanged like a dog by these Austrian butchers puts me in a bath of perspiration."
"You came pretty near it yesterday."
The count shuddered.
"Don't," said he; "it gives me an ague fit to think of it."
I pointed out that he was probably alarming himself without reason, as the Austrians were not likely to do more than put him in prison for a few months.
Batori shook his head.