I made no reply, being engaged in wrapping myself up; and apparently no reply was expected.
The count was evidently in a state of great anxiety, and several times during our brief rest wakened me by passing into the next room, as if he went to see that all was right.
I could not understand the man. He was so different from the Count Beula who had displayed such gallantry at the storming of Buda. In the breach no danger had unnerved him; here he blenched at the hint of it, and I attributed the difference to his dread of being hanged.
However, in spite of his restlessness, I managed at last to fall into a sound sleep, and was dreaming that Rakoczy and I were safe at Gyula, when some one pulled me roughly to my feet.
The candles had burned out, but the dawn was stealing through the one little window, and by its light I recognized Batori Gabor. His face was flushed and excited; he had put on his cap and cuirass, had buckled on his sword, and was equally ready to fight or fly.
"Quick!" cried he, not in panic, but in such tones as you might expect from a man accustomed to carry his life in his hands. "To the stables! The Austrians are out!"
I looked for the count. He had already disappeared.
Picking up my mantle, I ran into the kitchen. It was empty, save for the frightened innkeeper and his wife, who stood half-dressed, wringing their hands and shivering.
I was rushing to the door when the man, as if in desperation, seized a piece of rope which lay in the corner and flung himself before me.
Thinking he meant mischief, I touched my sword; but his action was the effect of fear.