"My name is Valentine Schneiderius, evangelical clergyman of Pukkersdorf. I have brought you a letter, but am in haste and must not linger. As long as the Russians are in our rear the way is open; but presently it will be closed." He delivered his letter and withdrew.
Ödön broke the seal and read:
"Dear Friend,—I shall never forget the ties that unite our families. Your late lamented father was my friend, and nothing could now induce me to look on and see the destruction of a true patriot like yourself. Would to God I could help many more! I send you an English passport, all signed and sealed, to take you out of the country. Write any name you choose in the blank space. Burn this.
"Your old friend,
"Zebulon Tallérossy.
"P. S. Go by way of Poland and you won't be known. When safe, think of your country; perhaps you can yet do something for your poor people.
"Z. T."
Ödön examined the passport and found it complete in every detail,—even to being creased and soiled like a much-handled document. Then he threw it down, ashamed at the thought of using it to save his life when so many of his comrades in arms were in danger of death or captivity. Yet the mere prospect of safety made his pulse beat more rapidly, and involuntarily his thoughts turned to those dear ones at home who looked to him for comfort and support,—his wife and two little children.
He read once more the last words of Zebulon's postscript; they showed no little shrewdness on the writer's part. What if he could really secure aid for his country abroad? The temptation was too great. He took up the passport again and glanced at the signatures on its back. Among them was Rideghváry's. No, that man should never enjoy the triumph of hissing in his ear: "This is the last step to that height!"
He burned Zebulon's letter, as well as the two he had just written to his wife and his mother, and, summoning his servant, bade him hasten to Nemesdomb and inform his mother of his flight to a foreign country; she should hear further particulars from him later. Then he completed his preparations for a hasty departure, wrote in the name "Algernon Smith" on the passport, put the paper in his pocket, called a carriage, and set out on his flight.