There was no thought of resistance. The betyars might have been outnumbered but they were well armed, while the residents and servants in the castle had few, if any, weapons, and a conflict started would have ended only in butchery, with the burning down of the house and outbuildings, together with all they contained in corn, cattle and machinery. It was better to stand the first loss,--no more than many a Magyar magnate would waste at the gambling table in a single night. Maurice Jokai, the Hungarian novelist, tells a story, founded on fact, of an adventure of a great lady with the brigands, in which she came to no harm through her calm self-possession and courage. She was on her way to a ball at Arad and, as she was obliged to travel through a dense forest, she halted over night at an inn which was really a den of robbers. There happened to be a great gathering of them there dancing. Undaunted, she entered the ball-room,--a long room, filled with smoke, where some fifty rough brigands were leaping about and singing at the top of their voices. They stopped the dance and stared open-mouthed at the audacious lady who dared to interrupt their revels. They were all big, fierce looking men, and armed, but the beautiful countess cowed them and imposed respect. One, the leader of the band, approached, bowing low, and asked whom she was. He gallantly invited her to dance the _czarda_ or national step, which she did as gaily and prettily as on the parquet floor of the casino at Arad. An ample supper was brought in; pieces of beef were served in a great cauldron, from which every guest fished out his portion with a pocket-knife, and ate it with bread soaked in the gravy. Wine was served in large wooden bottles. After supper cards were produced and high play for golden ducats followed; then more dancing, and the countess tripped it with the liveliest until morning. She had danced eighteen _czardas_ in all with the principal brigand. Her companions fearfully expected some tragic end to the festivities. When daylight came, the horses were put to the carriage and the guests were suffered to depart with compliments and thanks for their condescension. The betyars were not equally affable to all. They waged perpetual warfare against Jews and priests, and all who were thought to be unduly rich and prosperous, whom they constantly captured, robbed and maltreated, inventing tortures and delighting in their agonies. The wretched prisoners were beaten unmercifully, were crucified, shod like horses, tied by the feet to a pendent branch of a tree, or buried up to their necks by the road-side. A Jew was once taken when on his way to market with honey. His captors stripped him naked, anointed his whole body with the honey, rolled him in feathers and drove him in front of them to the gates of the nearest town, where the dogs worried him and the people jeered.