"Nothing amiss, sir," was the answer, "only a guest has just arrived, who would like to pay his respects, but--he is on foot!" It was this last circumstance, evidently, which was perplexing Talabor. "A guest?--on foot?" repeated Master Peter, as if he too were puzzled. "Yes, sir; Abbot Roger, he calls himself, and says you know him!" "What! good Father Roger! Know him? Of course I do!" cried Peter, springing from his chair. "Where is he? Why didn't you bring him in at once? I am not his Grace of Esztergom to keep a good man like him waiting in the entry!" "The servants are just brushing the dust off him, sir," replied the page, "and he wants to wash his feet, but he will be ready to wait upon you directly, sir, if you please!" "By all means! but he is no 'Abbot,' Talabor; he is private chaplain to Master Stephen, my brother!" Talabor had not long been in Master Peter's service, and knew no more of Master Stephen than he did of Father Roger, so he said nothing and left the room with a bow. "Blessed be the name of the Lord Jesus, Father Roger!" cried Master Peter, hurrying forward to meet his guest, as he entered the dining-hall. "For ever and ever!" responded the Father, while Dora raised his hand to her lips, delighted to see her old friend again. "But how is this, Father Roger?" Peter asked in high good humour, after some inquiry as to his brother's welfare; "how is this? Talabor, _deák_ announced you as 'Abbot.' What is the meaning of it?" "Quite true, sir! Thanks to his Holiness and the King, I have been 'Abbot' the last month or two; but just now I am on my way to Pest by command of his Majesty." "What! an abbot travel in this fashion, on foot! Why, our abbots make as much show as the magnates, some of them. Too modest, too modest, Father! Besides, you'll never get there! Is the King's business urgent?" "Hardly that, I think; though--but, after all, why prophesy evil before one must!" "Prophesy evil?" repeated Dora. "Prophecies are in the hands of the Lord!" interposed her father quickly. "Good or bad, it rests with Him whether they shall be fulfilled. So, Father Roger, let us have it, whatever it is." "The King's commands were that I should be at Pest by the end of the month," answered Roger, "so I shall be in time, even if I do travel somewhat slowly. As for the prophesying--without any gift of prophecy I can tell you so much as this, that _something_ is coming! True, it is far off as yet, but to be forewarned is to be forearmed, and I fancy the King is one who likes to look well ahead." "But what is it, Father Roger? do tell us!" cried Dora anxiously. "Nothing but rumours so far, dear child, but they are serious, and it behoves us to be on our guard." "Oktai and his brethren, eh?" said Master Peter, with some scorn. "Oh, those Tartars! The Tartars are coming! the Tartars are coming! Why, they have been coming for years! When did we first hear that cry? I declare I can't remember," and he laughed.