"My horse!" shouted the bridegroom, hurrying madly to the door. But he paused at sight of his bride, paler than ever and with terror in her glance. "WAIT BUT A MOMENT, dearest love!" he said, clasped her to his breast, kissed her, and threw himself on his horse. The animal reared beneath him and would not leave the court. The rider struck the spurs sharply into its flanks. Once more he looked back. There she stood, the beloved one, in her bridal dress upon the balcony, and waved her kerchief. "You will soon be back," she said. She never saw him again. * * * * * Forward raced the hussars upon their rapid coursers, forward towards the blue mountains--ever forward. Through forest wildernesses, over pathless heaths, up hill and down--ever forwards to the distant mountains. Right and left steepled cities appeared and vanished; the vesper bells greeted them as they passed; loudly neighing, their horses swept along, swift and ever swifter. Amongst them rode the gray-headed man, guiding them by untrodden paths, over swamp and moor, through silent groves of pine, forwards to the mountains. In the evening twilight they reach the banks of a stream. Here and there on the distant hills glimmer the shepherds' fires; beyond those hills lies the Magyar's home, and in their valleys this stream takes its rise. Here, for the first time, they dismount, to water their horses in the wave whose source is in their native land. Whilst the horses sup the cool stream, their riders strike up that gay and genial song, whose every note brings memories of home,-- "Hei! auch ich bin dort geboren, Wo der Stern dort strahlt."[28] Who ever rode so merrily to death? But the vedettes make sudden sign that some one comes. In the distance a horseman is seen; his steed vies in swiftness with the wind, his long plume and laced pelisse stream behind, the gold upon his schako glitters in the red sun-rays. "The Captain!" is murmured around. The hussars mount, draw their sabres, form line, and when their captain appears in their front, they offer him the customary salute. Breathless with fury and speed, at first he cannot speak. Motionless in front of the line, his sabre quivering in his hand, he is at a loss for words to express his indignation. Before he can find them, four hussars quit the ranks; the youngest--the same who tore up the sentence--raises his hand to his schako, and addresses his chief.