"They're on the ramparts and at the gates. They'll stay till the surrender is formally completed."
Several men in blouses heard the word "surrender," and immediately shouted, "No surrender! Down with the Hapsburg butchers! Long live the brave Hungarians!"
On all sides the cries were repeated, and we, more astonished than ever, ran on quickly.
The Place of St. Stephen's appeared to be the rendezvous, where a wildly-excited mob had gathered round the noble cathedral. A cheer rose from the surging mass as a young man, mounting above the heads of his fellows, read out the contents of a billet sent down from the summit of the tower by Messenhauser.
We were too far off to hear the exact words, but they were to the effect that the Austrians were being attacked.
The thoughts of every one immediately flew to the Hungarians, and shouts of "Long live Hungary!" once more rent the air. A light cloud of annoyance spread over Rakoczy's face.
"That's no soldier's doing," he said. "No one but an imbecile would pit our raw recruits against an army of veterans."
The Viennese thought differently; and when, two hours later, a second bulletin was issued, stating that the Hungarians were advancing, the citizens became wild with joy.
The capitulation was forgotten; flags were waved, cannon discharged, and paeans of victory sung.
Stephen and I talked largely of Hungarian prowess, and of what our countrymen could do; Rakoczy smiled and said nothing, which showed his wisdom.