"True; the poor devils would then have to leave their dinners, and amuse themselves firing at us."
The major would gladly have been excused such amusement.
"Meanwhile," pursued the commander, "we shall give them a toast;" and pouring out a glass of genuine tokay, he rose from his seat.
There was a universal silence.
"Gentlemen!" cried the governor, in a loud clear voice, "let us drink to the land of the Magyar!"
A tremendous cheer burst from every mouth, and the guests rising, struck their glasses together. Every idea of fear seemed banished at the word. Three times three the cheer was repeated, with such thundering applause that the very bastion trembled.
The poor major extended his arms in utter despair: he looked like a man vainly endeavouring to stifle the explosion of a revolution; and to add to his distress, scarcely had the third cheer died away, than the military music which was concealed in the rondella struck up the Rakoczy March.
"We are betrayed! we are undone!" he exclaimed, throwing himself violently back in his chair. "Sir Governor, Sir Commander, now is the moment for us to leave the place! The enemy's guns are directed towards us—we shall have the bombs pouring upon us!"
"That would be only giving ourselves trouble," replied the General coolly; "and besides, I should like to see how they aim."
"But I don't want to see; my life is not my own, it belongs to my country. It is not permitted to risk it thus; the Diet would not allow it."