Zebulon Tallérossy was out of humour. His present part had pleased him so long as he had nothing to do but travel about with his patron, make the acquaintance of foreign celebrities, and receive honours and attentions wherever he went. That, he thought, was the fitting occupation of a great statesman, and he had looked to this same kind of statesmanship to bring everything to a quiet and orderly conclusion. But when he saw that matters were not destined to flow on so harmoniously much longer, he fell out of conceit with his rôle of statesman. Returning with Rideghváry to the town that lay beneath them in the valley, he gave his friend and patron a hint of his dissatisfaction. "Yes," said he, "she is a mighty power,--Russia; I don't know who could withstand her. But what will be the fate of the conquered?" "_Væ victis_--woe to the vanquished!" returned the other sententiously. "Well then," continued honest Zebulon, "let us suppose a case: what about such a man as Ödön Baradlay, whom we and all his countrymen esteem and love, and who, if his zeal has led him a little too far, has yet been influenced by none but the loftiest motives,--what will be done to him? A good man, fine talents, sure to be a credit to his country--he ought to be spared." "_Mitgefangen, mitgehangen_,"[6] quoted Rideghváry briefly. [Footnote 6: Caught with the rest, hung with the rest.] For the rest of the drive Zebulon was silent. In the evening, as Rideghváry was looking over the passport blanks which he kept in one of the pigeonholes of his desk, he missed the very one to which he attached the greatest value. It was an English passport with the official signature and stamp of the ambassadors of all the intervening countries, the name and description of the bearer being alone left blank. Such forms were commonly held in readiness for secret missions. No one could have taken the missing paper except Zebulon; and when he had reached this conclusion, Rideghváry smiled. In his comings and goings, the great man always took his friend with him. But how explain the friendship which he manifested for him? Easily enough. Rideghváry was not a master of the common people's language, and it was the common people that he wished to reach. Zebulon was their oracle, their favourite orator. One needed but to give him a theme, and he could hold his simple auditors spellbound by the hour. In his expeditions, therefore, Rideghváry knew that his honest friend would be indispensable to him when it came to persuading the good people that the invading hosts which passed through their villages were not enemies, but friends, allies, and brothers. That, then, was to be Zebulon's mission, and he already suspected as much; but he had no heart for the task before him. Rideghváry, in his concern lest he should lose his spokesman, hardly let him go out of his sight, and even shared the same room with him at night; otherwise he might have found himself some morning without his mouthpiece.