"Forgive me. Only a few days ago I could have commanded my sons, but not now. I wrote you a letter--did you receive it?--an arrogant, offensive letter. Destroy it; let it be as if it had never been written. It was an angry woman that wrote it. That proud, angry woman is no more. Grievous afflictions have humbled her, and the end is not yet. She is now but a mourning widow, begging for mercy at the open grave of her sons." "Dear mother, your sons are still alive," Jenő interposed reassuringly. "But do you know where they are? One of them is fighting his way over the Carpathians to his native land, pursued, surrounded, and harassed on all sides. At his feet yawns the mountain chasm with the raging torrent at its bottom; over his head the storms vent their fury and the hungry vultures wheel in circles. If he eludes his pursuers, and escapes starvation and freezing, he may, perhaps, be fortunate enough to reach the battle-field, where my eldest son awaits his coming at the head of a volunteer force. Do you know the sort of soldiers who compose that force? Boys that have run away from their homes, and fathers that have left their wives and children. It is as if a feverish madness were driving every one to the field of battle, where certain death awaits its victims." "But why do they thus rush to their destruction?" "Because they cannot help themselves, in the bitter woe that oppresses all hearts." "They may be victorious, mother." "Oh, yes, they will be. They will win a glorious victory, but it will avail them naught. It will but bring heavier woes upon them. They will show the world wonderful deeds of daring, and compel the admiration of all; their star will shine brightly over all Europe, now wrapped in darkness; but it will be so much the worse for them in the end. Their fate is already sealed by the great world-powers. If they are not prostrated by the first blow, another will be dealt them, and still another, until at last they succumb. I learned this in Pressburg from intercepted letters, and it brought me back here again. How could I resist the longing to come back and see you once more,--the last time in my life?" "Oh, do not speak so!" "You are going far away, and it will be a dark day for us that sees your return. The proud and powerful have been putting their heads together, and they have formed a plan for taking vengeance on their mother country for the chastisement she has inflicted on them." "Who are they?"