"And three years ago you met three Hungarian gentlemen in the Ermenouville Forest, did you not?"
"Yes, I did meet them," replied Alexander, surprised that anybody should bear in mind such minutiæ of his past life.
"Then this letter will be meant for you," said the heyduke, delivering the letter. "Be so good as to read it. I await a reply."
Alexander broke open the letter, and, as was his wont, looked first of all at the signature. A cry of astonishment burst from his lips. There stood two names written one beneath the other which every Hungarian, who accounted himself a good patriot and a man of honour and enlightenment, held in the highest veneration—Rudolf and Michael.
What could such as they have to write to a poor orphan like him, they the great men, the idols of the nation, the popular heroes of the day, to a poor unknown artisan like him?
The letter said—
"You worthy young man, you have acted quite rightly. In your place any one of us would have
done the same thing. If you will accept our assistance, for old acquaintance sake, we are ready to place our service as gentlemen at your disposal."
Alexander folded up the letter with great satisfaction. He had a vivid recollection of the two young noblemen who had met him by accident at Paris, and treated him as a friend.
"I am much honoured by their lordships' offer," said he, turning to the heyduke, "and will accept it in any case."