In front all was dark. After the first surprise caused by some hundreds of dragoons who had penetrated into Moldavia, the Szeklers had quickly blocked the pass by felling trees across it, retired to the mountain summits, and received the advancing Tartars with such showers of stones that they were compelled to desist from any further advance and turn back again.
Great commotion was observable in the Turkish camp. The Tartars were roasting a whole ox on a huge spit, and cut pieces off it while it was roasting; some jovial Wallachians, a little elated by wine, began dancing their national dances; on a hill the Hungarian hussars were blaring their farogatos, whose penetrating voices frequently pierced the most distant recess of the snowy Alps.
But just because the camp had begun making merry the outposts had been carefully disposed. The leaders of the host were youths in age but veterans in military experience; they were keeping watch for everyone.
They met as they were going their rounds and, without observing it, strayed somewhat from the camp and advanced without a word along a mountain path.
At last Feriz broke the silence by remarking gravely to Tököly:
"Is it not desperating to see a mountain before you and not be able to fly?"
"Especially when your desires are on the other side of that mountain."
"What are your desires?" said Feriz bitterly, "in comparison with mine; you have only a thirst for glory, I have a thirst for blood."
"But mine is a still stronger impulse," said Tököly; "I have a wife."
"Ah! I understand, and you want to see your wife? I also should like to see her if I am not slain. And is the lady worthy of you?"