His face was bronzed, and his breast covered with numerous ribbons and medals, but his blue eyes were rather dreamy, and I thought he had much ado to keep himself awake.
The officers who flanked him on either side of the table were of various ages, and belonged to different branches of the service, but they all sat as immovable as statues.
The silence was so weird and oppressive that I welcomed the sound of the president's voice when he began the proceedings by asking my name.
"George Botskay," I proudly answered.
"Captain in the rebel army?" he went on, reading from a slip of paper.
"Captain on the staff of General Görgei, commander-in-chief of the Hungarian national forces," I replied.
One of the stone griffins started into life at this, but the president petrified him again by a wave of the hand.
"Why did you not surrender with your leader?"
"Because I was absent on special duty."
"It is stated here," said he, tapping the paper, "that you were at Vilagos on the thirteenth of August."