A young cuirassier had quartered himself in the widow's house; he was the gayest officer in his regiment, and more particularly now, as the bridegroom of one of the two fair sisters.
Unlike the young hussar, there was no sadness in his tone; and when he could think of aught but Aniko's bright eyes, victory shone in his glance—for he loved his profession, and was ready to shed his blood or win laurels of glory for it.
"Do not fear, sweet friend!" he exclaimed, seeing Ilka turn away with tearful eyes to weep alone; "I will bring back your bridegroom from the first battle to pass his captivity with you."
But the jest pained Ilka.
She replied with pride: "Gejza will sooner die than be taken prisoner."
Weeks and months passed away, and Laszlo's bride was soon to be his wife.
"The first victory," he said, "shall celebrate our marriage!"
"The first victory," sighed Ilka, "will be his defeat!" and then she wept bitterly. But when the sisters were together, each restrained her smiles and her tears so as not to grieve the other.
One day Laszlo whispered gravely to Aniko, "This day week there will be a battle!" and the warm pressure of his hand seemed to say, "and our victory;" while the deep blush on the bride's cheek seemed to reply, "And our wedding!"
Both girls prepared a dress in secret for that day. Aniko's was white embroidery, as for a bridal; Ilka's was simple black!