"I understand," said the young man, in a tone of joyful surprise, as he pressed the sweet girl to his heart, "Erdely[4] and Hungary united! I shall win glory for your colors!"
The maiden yielded to his warm embrace, murmuring, as he released her,
"Remember me!"
"When I cease to remember you, I shall be no more," replied the youth fervently.
And then he kissed the young girl's brow, and once more bidding farewell, he hurried from the apartment.
Old Simon Bardy lived on the first floor: Imre did not forget him.
"Well, nephew," said the old man cheerfully, "God speed you, and give you strength to cut down many Turks!"
"It is not with the Turks that we shall have to do," replied the young man, smiling.
"Well, with the French," said the old soldier of the past century, correcting himself.
A page waited at the gate with two horses saddled and bridled.
"I shall not require you—you may remain at home," said Imre, as, taking the bridle of one of the horses, vaulting lightly into the saddle, he pressed his csako over his brow and galloped from the castle.