these veterans, thoroughly persuaded of the immeasurable superiority of the Magyar over all other men, and of the hussar over every other soldier. "The Austrians had won the battle; the Hungarians had lost it. The Austrian general was taking his ease in his quarters, with his staff around him; an officer entered, and reported the capture of a hussar. "Bring him in," said the General, who was in excellent humour. He himself wore the uniform of the hussar regiment he had formerly commanded, and had unbuckled his sabre and made himself comfortable; whilst his officers stood around buttoned to the chin, and strictly according to regulation. The hussar entered--a bare-headed veteran with gray mustaches. His face was still black with the smoke of Schwechat's battle; his stiffly-waxed mustaches stuck out fiercely right and left. He glanced gloomily around him, evidently ill-pleased with his company, until his eye fell upon the General. Then a gleam came over his features, like the sun breaking through a cloud, and he was near shouting for joy. The general laughed, and clapped his hands together. He recognised old Miska, his former orderly, who had served him for five years in Szobossló. "Do you know me again, old man?" said he good-humouredly. "At your service, Colonel," replied the hussar, raising his hand to his brow, as though his schako were still on his head. "General, not Colonel," interposed one of the officers. Silently and contemptuously the hussar measured the speaker with his eyes, wondering that an infantry-man, captain though he might be, dared intrude upon the conversation of hussars. "So you have let yourself be taken prisoner, Miska?" said the General, willing to tease his old servant. "What could I do, Colonel? There were so many against me. I got into a crowd of them." "You knocked over a few, I dare say." "I did not count them, but _something_ remained upon the ground." "Right, Miska. Let them give you a dram, and then go to my grooms; if anybody meddles with you, give him as good as he brings." The hussar thanked his former colonel, but seemed in small haste to leave the room. The General noticed him no farther, but turned again to his officers and resumed the discussion of his plan of campaign. Suddenly he felt a pull at his pelisse, and turning, beheld Miska, who had stolen quietly behind him. With an unintelligible gesture, and a countenance of extraordinary mystery, the hussar pointed to something. "Colonel! Colonel!" he whispered, redoubling the eagerness of his gesticulations. The General had no notion of his meaning. "Colonel, reach me yonder sabre from the corner." "What the devil do you want with it?" "Only give it here! In two minutes there shall not be a German in the room." Miska thought his colonel was a prisoner.