"Accept my horse as a remembrance," said the young man, turning to the Decurio.
"I accept it, as it would only raise suspicion were you to mount it; but you may recover it again in the field. Haste, and lose no time! If you delay you will bring mourning on your own head and disgrace on mine!"
In a few minutes the young man, disguised as a Wallachian peasant, was hastening on foot across the hills of Kolozsvar.
It was past midnight.
The inhabitants of the Bardy castle had all retired to rest.
The iron gate was locked and the windows barred, when suddenly the sound of demoniac cries roused the slumberers from their dreams.
"What is that noise?" cried Jozsef Bardy, springing from his bed, and rushing to the window.
"The Olahok!"* cried a hussar, who had rushed to his master's apartments on hearing the sounds.
* Olah, Wallachian—ok, plural.
"The Olah! the Olah!" was echoed through the corridors by the terrified servants.