That same night a grand reception was held in the palace of Count Szondi, and as invitations had been sent to all the officers still in the city, Rakoczy and I went.
I have often thought since of that magnificent spectacle. The brilliant uniforms of the soldiers, the sparkling eyes of the beautiful Magyar ladies, who were all dressed in the national costume, the ruby velvet dolmans of the wealthy citizens, the gorgeous dresses of the nobles, the brilliant lights from burnished chandeliers, the handsome furniture, the rugs of ermine and sable, the masterpieces of famous Hungarian artists hanging on the walls in heavily-gilded frames, the incessant sparkle and play of diamonds as the guests glided hither and thither, presented a scene that one does not easily forget.
Hitherto my time had been so fully occupied that I had not been able to seek out old friends, and now most of them had departed; but here and there I saw a familiar face and heard a voice that recalled to me the joys of bygone days.
Chief amongst the guests, and surrounded by a group of distinguished men and beautiful women, stood a remarkably handsome man, above the average height, straight, and of a fine athletic build.
His black, curly hair hung over his shoulders, his well-trimmed beard covered his breast. The manly expression of his face and the fiery glow in his eyes formed a true index to his bold, headstrong, and enthusiastic nature. He looked fit to be, as he was, the leader of the Magyar nobles who had taken up arms against the Austrian oppression.
This was Count Louis Batthiany before the evil days, alas! so soon to come, fell upon him.
Towards midnight there arose a great stir in the crowded assembly, a movement of feet, a craning of necks, a low hum which quickly swelled in volume; and turning round I saw that another distinguished visitor had entered the room.
Watching his almost royal progress through the brilliant throng, I thought of the words spoken by Baron von Arnstein, and looked on coldly.
But though, unlike the majority of my fellow-countrymen, I had early been prejudiced against Louis Kossuth, I have no wish to deny his marvellous and almost superhuman gifts.
A true Hungarian, he loved his country with fond affection; but his views were not mine, and even in those days I thought him wrong.