"So can I," replied the woman, proudly.
New forces streamed out from every direction as if they had come down from the clouds or up from the ground. Foot soldiers and horse, with long weapons, bows and lances arose from every side with a shout that reached the heavens:—"Ali, Ali, Allah Akbar!"
The Hungarian force, with backs to the church drew themselves up in line of battle and waited the attack. From the end of the street a gleaming troop of horsemen appeared to be advancing. It was a picked company of spahis on stately Arab horses; the housings gleaming with emeralds in the firelight. In the middle rode Ali on a slender snow-white barb; in his hand a crooked sword with diamond-set hilt and on his head a turbaned helmet. His long beard fell over his silver armor. When he was within range of Banfy he called a halt and drew up his men. Until then Banfy had not touched his pistols, the wonderfully carved ivory handles of which were just in sight above the saddlebags. Now he drew them and handed them both to Madame Vizaknai.
"Take them," he said, "you ought to have something for self-defence."
Just then Ali Pasha sent a herald who brought this message to the Hungarians:
"My lord, Ali Pasha, commands you unbelieving giaours to surrender. Every way of escape is closed; spare yourself further useless efforts, lay down your weapons at his feet and surrender yourselves to his mercy."
The herald had hardly uttered the last words when two shots were heard and he fell dead from his horse. Madame Vizaknai, instead of any reply had fired off both pistols at him.
Ali Pasha, infuriated, gave a signal to the troops around him and there was a shower of darts and balls from every side upon the little Hungarian band.
Madame Vizaknai stepped up to Banfy's stirrups and resting against him one hand and swinging her sword with the other, said:
"Fear nothing, my friend."