The soldiers closed up their ranks, the order was issued, and we set out, my escort being the last of the three.
I tried hard to march with steady step and unfaltering countenance, but it was hard work.
The fresh morning air, the bright October sun, the merry flight of birds overhead, even the gaudy uniforms of the soldiers, spoke of life, and I was going to lose it.
A lump rose in my throat as we passed through the gateway, but I remembered I was a Magyar, and choked it down.
The pain and misery would soon be at an end, and the white-coats must not think me a coward.
At minute intervals a gun was fired from the ramparts, and the church-bells of the town tolled mournfully in response.
Crossing the one bridge which had not been destroyed during the war, we entered the town proper.
I was astounded at the spectacle.
Two lines of soldiers with loaded rifles guarded the route to the market-place, and kept back the crowds of people who stood on tiptoe and craned their necks in eager anxiety to catch a last view of those about to die.
Not the populace of the town alone had assembled, but the inhabitants of all the surrounding districts had come in thousands to show respect to the victims of Austrian cruelty.