At ten o’clock up rode an armed band, twelve men in all; immediately the gate of the outer court and the entrance door were thrown open, as if for the most honoured and welcome guests.  The lady of the castle herself stood in the entrance to receive them, richly dressed as if for an entertainment.  She at once selected the chief, bade him welcome, gave orders that their horses should be well cared for, and then taking the arm of her guest, she led him into the dining-hall.  Here a goodly feast was spread, the tables and sideboard being covered with a magnificent display of gold and silver plate, the accumulation of many generations.

The leader of the robber band started back surprised, but immediately recovering his presence of mind, he seated himself calmly by the side of his charming hostess, who soon engaged him in conversation about the gay world of Vienna, whose doings were perfectly familiar to them both.  At length, when the feast was nearly ended, the chief took out his watch and said, “Madame, the happiest moments of my life have always been the shortest.  I have another engagement this night, but before I leave allow me to tell you that in appealing to my honour, as you have done to-night, you have saved me from the commission of a crime.  Bad as I am, none ever appealed to my honour in vain.  As for you, my men,” he said, looking sternly round with his hand on his pistol, “I charge you to take nothing from this house; he who disobeys me dies that instant.”

The chief then asked for pen arid paper, and writing some sentences in a strange character, handed it to his hostess, saying, “If you or your retainers should at any time lose anything of value, let that paper be displayed in the nearest town, and I pledge you my word the missing articles shall be returned.”  After this he took his leave, the troop mounted their horses and departed.

My friend told me that he was enabled to verify the story; and he subsequently discovered the real name of the robber chief.  He was an impoverished cadet of one of the noblest families in Hungary.  His fate was sad enough; lie was captured a few months after this incident, and ended his life under the hands of the common hangman.

CHAPTER XXX.

Return to Buda-Pest—­All-Souls’ Day—­The cemetery—­Secret burial of Count Louis Batthyanyi—­High rate of mortality at Buda-Pest.

Some matters of business recalled me to Buda-Pest in the midst of a round of visits in Transylvania.  The great hospitality of my new friends would have rendered a winter in that delightful country most agreeable, but the holiday part of my tour was over, and circumstances led me to pass some months in the capital.