The count made a fine-looking officer, with the crimson shako on his
head, his mantle flung over one shoulder, his saber in his hand. When he
saluted the ladies on their balconies, his spirited horse would rear and
dance proudly. His company, the "Volons," had selected black and crimson
as the colors for their uniform. The shako was ornamented in front with
a white death's-head, and one would not have believed that a skull could
be so ornamental.

The Volons' ensign was not yet finished, but pretty white hands were
embroidering gold letters on the silken streamers; lead would very soon
add further ornamentation!

When Ludwig Vavel opened the door of his castle to the public, he very
soon became acquainted with a very different life from that of the past
six years. For six years he had dwelt among a people whom he imagined he
had learned to know and understand through his telescope, and from the
letters he had received from a clergyman and a young law student.

The reality was quite different.

Every man that was enrolled in his volunteer corps Count Vavel made an
object of special study. He found among them many interesting
characters, who would have deserved perpetuation, and made of all of
them excellent soldiers. The men very soon became devoted to their
leader. When the troop was complete--three hundred horsemen in handsome
uniforms, on spirited horses--their ensign was ready for them. Marie
thought it would have been only proper for Katharina, the betrothed of
the leader, to present the flag; but Count Vavel insisted that Marie
must perform the duty. The flag was hers; it would wave over the men who
were going to fight for her cause.

It was an inspiriting sight--three hundred horsemen, every one of noble
Hungarian blood. There were among them fathers of families, and
brothers; and all of them soldiers of their own free will. Of such
material was the troop of Volons, commanded by "Count Vavel von
Fertoeszeg."

Count Vavel had a second volunteer company, composed of Satan Laczi and
his comrades. This company, however, had been formed and drilled in
secret, as the noble Volons would not have tolerated such vagabonds in
their ranks. There were only twenty-four men in Satan Laczi's squad, and
they were expected to undertake only the most hazardous missions of the
campaign.

Ah, how Marie's hand trembled when she knotted the gay streamers to the
flag Ludwig held in his hands! She whispered, in a tone so low that only
he could hear what she said:

"Don't go away, Ludwig! Stay here with us. Don't waste your precious
blood for me, but let us three fly far away from here."

Those standing apart from the count and his fair ward fancied that the
whispered words were a blessing on the ensign. She did not bless it in
words, but when she saw that Ludwig would not renounce his undertaking,
she pressed her lips to the standard which bore the _patrona Hungaria_.
That was her blessing! Then she turned and flung herself into
Katharina's arms, sobbing, while hearty cheers rose from the Volons:

"Why don't _you_ try to prevent him from going away from us? Why don't
you say to him, 'To-morrow we are to be wedded. Why not wait until
then?'"

But there was no time now to think of marriage. There was one who was in
greater haste than any bridegroom or bride. The great leader of armies
was striding onward, whole kingdoms between his paces. From the
slaughter at Ebersburg he passed at once to the walls of Vienna, to the
square in front of the Cathedral of St. Stephen. From the south, also,
came Job's messengers, thick and fast. Archduke John had retreated from
Italy back into Hungary, the viceroy Eugene following on his heels.

General Chasteler had become alarmed at Napoleon's proclamation
threatening him with death, and had removed his entire army from the
Tyrol. His divisions were surrendering, one after another, to the
pursuing foe.

Thus the border on the south and west was open to the enemy; and to
augment the peril which threatened Hungary, Poland menaced her from the
north, from the Carpathians; and Russia at the same time sent out
declarations of war.

The countries which had been on friendly terms with one another suddenly
became enemies--Poland against Hungary, Russia against Austria. Prussia
waited. England hastened to seize an island from Holland. The patriotic
calls of Gentz and Schlegel failed to inspire Germany. The heroic
attempts of Kalt, Doernberg, Schill, and Luetzow fell resultless on the
indifference of the people. Only Turkey remained a faithful ally, and
the assurance that the Mussulman would protect Hungary in the rear
against an invasion on the part of Moldavia was the only ray of light
amid the darkness of those days.

Then came a fresh Job's messenger.

General Jelachich, with his five thousand men, had laid down his arms in
the open field before the enemy. Now, indeed, it might be said: "The
time is come to be up and doing, Hungary!"

He who had neglected to celebrate his nuptials yesterday would have no
time for marriage feasts to-morrow. Hannibal was at the gates! The noble
militia host was set in motion. The Veszprime and Pest regiments moved
toward the Marczal to join Archduke John's forces. The primatial troops
joined the main body of the army on the banks of the March, and what
there was of soldiery on the farther side of the Danube hastened to
concentrate in the neighborhood of the Raab--only half equipped, muskets
without flints, without cartridges, without saddles, with halters in
lieu of bridles!

Under such circumstances a fully equipped troop like that commanded by
"Count Fertoeszeg," with sabers, pistols, carbines, and a leader trained
in the battle-field, was of some value.

The days which followed the flag presentation were certainly not
calculated to whispers of happy love, while the nights were illumined
only by the light of watch-fires, and the glare over against the horizon
of cannonading. Count Ludwig had so many demands on his time that he
rarely found a few minutes free to visit his dear ones at the manor.
Sometimes he came unexpectedly early in the morning, and sometimes late
in the evening. And always, when he came, like the insurgent who dashes
unceremoniously into your door, there was a confusion and a bustling to
conceal what he was not yet to see--Marie's first attempts at drawing,
her piano practices, or the miniature portrait Katharina was painting of
her. Sometimes, too, he came when they were at a meal; and then, despite
his protests that he had already dined or supped in camp, he would be
compelled to take his seat between the two ladies at the table. Hardly
would he have taken up his fork, however, when a messenger would arrive
in great haste to summon him for something or other--some question he
alone could decide; then all attempts to detain him would prove futile.

The day he received his orders to march, he was forced to take enough
time to speak on some very important matters to his betrothed wife. He
delivered into her hands the steel casket, of which so much has been
written. When he entered the room where the two ladies were sitting,
Marie discreetly rose and left the lovers alone; but she did not go very
far: she knew that she would be sent for very soon. Why should she stop
to hear the exchange of lovers' confidences, hear the mutual confessions
which made _them_ so happy? She did not want to see the tears which _he_
would kiss away.

"May God protect you," sobbed Katharina, reflecting at the same moment
that it would be a great pity were a bullet to strike the spot on the
noble brow where she pressed her farewell kiss.

"You will guard my treasure, Katharina? Take good care of my palladium
and of yourself. Before I go, let me show you what this casket which you
must guard with unceasing care contains."

He drew the steel ring from his thumb, and pushed to one side the crown
which formed the seal, whereupon a tiny key was revealed. With it he
unlocked the casket.

On top lay a packet of English bank-notes of ten thousand pounds each.

"This sum," explained Ludwig, "will defray the expenses of our
undertaking. When I shall have attained my object, I shall be just so
much the poorer. I am not a rich man, Katharina; I must tell you this
before our marriage."

"I should love you even were you a beggar," was the sincere response.

A kiss was her reward.

Underneath the bank-notes were several articles of child's clothing,
such as little girls wear.

"Her mother embroidered the three lilies on these with her own hands,"
said Ludwig, laying the little garments to one side. Then he took from
the casket several time-stained documents, and added: "These are the
certificate of baptism, the last lines from the mother to her daughter,
and the deposition of the two men who witnessed the exchange of the
children. This," taking up a miniature-case, "contains a likeness of
Marie, and one of the other little girl who exchanged destinies with
her. The Marquis d'Avoncourt, who is now a prisoner in the Castle of
Ham,--if he is still alive!--is the only one besides ourselves who knows
of the existence of these things. And now, Katharina, let me beg of you
to take good care of them; no matter what happens, do not lose sight of
this casket."

He locked the casket, and returned the ring to his thumb.

The baroness placed the treasure intrusted to her care in a secret
cupboard in the wall of her own room.

And now, one more kiss!

The girl waiting in the adjoining room was doubtless getting weary.
Suddenly Ludwig heard the tones of a piano. Some one was playing, in the
timid, uncertain manner of a new beginner, Miska's martial song. Ludwig
listened, and turned questioningly toward his betrothed. Katharina did
not speak; she merely smiled, and walked toward the door of the
adjoining room, which she opened.

Marie sprang from the piano toward Ludwig, who caught her in his arms
and rewarded her for the surprise. And thus it happened that Marie,
after all, was the one to receive Ludwig's last kiss of farewell.




CHAPTER III


The camp on the bank of the Rabcza was shared by the troop from
Fertoeszeg and by a militia company of infantry from Wieselburg.

The parole had been given out for the night. Count Vavel had completed
his round of the outposts, and had returned to the officers' tent. Here
he found awaiting him two old acquaintances--the vice-palatine and the
young attorney from Pest, each of them wearing the light-blue dolman.

The youthful attorney, whose letters to the count had voiced the
national discontent, had at once girded on his sword when the call to
arms had sounded throughout the land, and was now of one mind with his
quondam patron: if he got near enough to a Frenchman to strike him, the
result would certainly be disastrous--for the Frenchman. Bernat bacsi
also found himself at last in his element, with ample time and
opportunity for anecdotes. Seated on a clump of sod the root side up,
with both hands clasping the hilt of his sword, the point of which
rested on the ground, he repeated what he had heard from the palatine's
own lips, while dining with that exalted personage in the camp by the
Raab.

At a very interesting point in his recital he was unceremoniously
interrupted by the challenging call of the outposts:

"Halt! who comes there?"

Vavel hastened from the tent, flung himself on his horse, and galloped
in the direction of the call. The patrol had stopped an armed man who
would not give the password, but insisted that he had a right to enter
the camp.

Vavel recognized Satan Laczi, and said to the guard:

"Release him; he is a friend of mine." Then to the ex-robber: "Come with
me."

He led the way to his own private tent, where he bade his companion rest
himself on a pallet of straw.

"I dare say you are tired, my good fellow."

"Not very," was the reply. "I have come only from Kapuvar to-day."

"On foot?"

"Part of the way, and part of the way swimming."

"What news do you bring?"

"We captured a French courier in the marshes near Vitnyed just as he was
about to ride into the stream."

"Where is he?"

"Well, you see, one of my fellows happened to grasp him a little too
tightly by the collar, because he resisted so obstinately--and, besides,
it must have been a very weak cord that fastened his soul to his body."

"You have not done well, Satan Laczi," reproved the count. "Another time
you must bring the prisoner to me alive, for I may learn something of
importance from him. Did not I tell you that I would pay a reward for a
living captive?"

"Yes, your lordship, and we shall lose our reward this time. But we
did n't capture the fellow for nothing, after all. We searched his
pockets, and found this sealed letter addressed to a general in the
enemy's army."

Vavel took the letter, and said: "Rest here until I return. You will
find something to eat and drink in the corner there. I may want you to
ride farther to-night."

"If I am to go on a horse, that will rest me sufficiently," was the
response.

Vavel quitted the tent to read the letter by the nearest watch-fire. It
was addressed to "General Guillaume."

That the general commanded a brigade of the viceroy of Italy's troops,
Vavel knew.

The letter was a long one--four closely written pages. Before reading it
Vavel glanced at the signature: "Marquis de Fervlans." The name seemed
familiar, but he could not remember where he had heard it. He was fully
informed when he read the contents:

"M. GENERAL: The intrigue has been successfully carried out.
Themire has found the fugitives! They are hidden in a secluded nook
on the shore of Lake Neusiedl in Hungary, where their extreme
caution has attracted much attention. Themire's first move was to
take up her abode in the same neighborhood, which she did in a
masterly manner. The estate she bought belonged to a Viennese baron
who had ruined himself by extravagance. Themire bought the
property, paying one hundred thousand guilders for it, on condition
that she might also assume the baron's name; such transfers are
possible, I believe, in Austria. In this wise Themire became the
Baroness Katharina Landsknechtsschild, and, as she thoroughly
understands the art of transformation, became a perfect German
woman before she took possession of her purchase. In order not to
arouse suspicion on the part of the fugitives, she carefully
avoided meeting either of them, and played to perfection the role
of a lady that had been jilted by her lover.

"Themire learned that our fugitive owned a powerful telescope with
which he kept himself informed of everything that happened in the
neighborhood, and this prompted her to adopt a very amusing plan of
action. _I_ wanted to put an end at once to the matter, and had
gone to Vienna for the purpose of so doing. I entered the Austrian
army as Count Leon Barthelmy, in order to be near my chosen
emissary. But my scheme was without result. I had planned that a
notorious robber of that region should steal the girl and the
documents from the Nameless Castle,--as the abode of the fugitives
is called,--but my robber proved unequal to the task. Consequently
I was forced to accept Themire's more tedious but successful plan.
The difficulty was for Themire to become acquainted with our
fugitive without arousing his suspicions. An opportunity offered.
One night, when we knew to a certainty that the hermit in the
Nameless Castle would be in his observatory because of an eclipse
of the moon, Themire put her plan into operation. The hermit, who
is only a man, after all, found a lovely woman more attractive than
all the planets in the universe; he was captured in the net laid
for him! When the moon entered the shadow, four masked robbers
(Jocrisse was their leader!) climbed into the Baroness
Landsknechtsschild's windows. The hermit in his observatory beheld
this incursion, and, being a knight as well as a recluse, what else
could he do but rush to the rescue of his fair neighbor? His
telescope had told him she was fair. Jocrisse played his part
admirably. At the approach of the deliverer the "robbers" took to
their heels, and the brave knight unbound the fettered and charming
lady he had delivered from the ruffians. As Themire had prepared
herself for the meeting, you may guess the result: the hermit was
captured!"

Oh, how every drop of blood in Vavel's veins boiled and seethed! His
face was crimsoned with shame and rage. He read further:

"Themire was perfectly certain that the mysterious hermit of the
Nameless Castle had fallen in love with her; and _I_ am not so sure
but Themire has ended by falling in love with the knight! Women's
hearts are so impressionable.

"I managed to have my regiment sent to her neighborhood, and took
up my quarters in her house. I sought by every means to lure the
hermit from his den; but he is a cunning fox, is this protector of
fair ladies! I could not get a sight of him. I decided at last to
waylay him (when he would be out driving with the veiled lady), to
pretend that I was a betrayed husband in search of his errant wife,
and ask to see the face of his veiled companion. This, naturally,
he would refuse. A duel would be the result; and as he has not for
years had a weapon in his hand, and as I am a dead shot, you can
guess the result--a hermit against a Spadassin! With a bullet in
his brain, the mysterious maid would become my property."

Here an icy chill shook Vavel's frame. He read on:

"That was my intention. But something on which I had not counted
prevented me from carrying it out. When I insisted on seeing the
face of the veiled lady, after telling him I believed her to be my
wife, Ange Barthelmy (I need not tell you that that entire story
was an invention of my own; I published it in a provincial
newspaper, whence it spread all over Europe), my brave hermit
showed a very bold front, and we were on the point of exchanging
blows, when the lady suddenly flung back her veil and revealed the
face of--Themire! You may believe that I was dumfounded for an
instant; then I began to believe that my faith in this woman had
been misplaced. Could it be possible that she had been caught in
her own trap--that she had found this Vavel's eyes more alluring
than the fortune we promised her, and that instead of betraying him
to us she would do the very opposite--betray us to him? It may be
that she has woven a more delicate web than I can detect with which
to entangle her romantic victim the more securely. At all events,
when I asked Vavel what relation the lady at his side bore to him,
he replied: 'She is my betrothed wife.'

"I confess I am puzzled. But I have the means of compelling Themire
to keep her promise. Her daughter is in my power!"

("Her daughter?" gasped Vavel. "Her daughter? Then Katharina is a
married woman!")

"But," he continued to read, "it might happen that a woman who is
in love would sacrifice her child. So soon as this war broke out,
Vavel threw off his hermit's mask, and is now leading a company of
troopers--which he equipped at his own expense--against us.

"From Jocrisse's letters I learn that Vavel's treasures are now in
Themire's hands. That which our fair emissary was commissioned to
find is in her possession. Now, however, the question is, What will
she do with it?

"Jocrisse also informs me that Themire is quite bewitched with the
amiability of the maid who has been intrusted to her care. If this
be true, then matters are in a bad way. If this is not another of
Themire's schemes, but actual sympathy, if this girl, whose
remarkable loveliness of character (even Jocrisse is compelled to
praise her) has won the piquant little Amelie's place in her
mother's heart, then it will be more difficult to separate Themire
from the girl than to win her from her lover."

This was a solitary ray of sunshine amid the threatening clouds which
enveloped Ludwig. He continued to read with rapidly beating heart:

"I must know to a certainty what Themire proposes to do. To-day I
sent her a message by a trusty courier, informing her that I should
be at a certain place at an appointed time--that I wanted her to
meet me and deliver into my hands the treasures she now holds. She
will have an excellent excuse for leaving the manor. Our troops are
approaching Steiermark, and have already crossed the Hungarian
border. Thus it will seem as if she fell by accident into the hands
of the enemy.

Vavel's heart almost ceased to beat. The letter shook in his trembling
hands.

"I shall not, however," he continued to read, "depend on the fickle
mood of a woman, who may be swayed by a tear or a love-letter. If
Themire does not appear with the maid and the documents at the
designated spot to-morrow evening, then I shall ride with my troop
to the manor. My troop, as you know, belongs to the 'Legion of
Demons,' and they do not know the definition of the word
'impossible'! If Themire of her own free will delivers the
treasures into my hands, I shall thank her becomingly. If, however,
she fails to meet me, I shall take the maid and the documents by
force."

Vavel did not notice that the firelight by which he was reading the
letter had begun to grow dim; he believed the characters on the page
before him were swimming in a blood-red mist.

"And now," the letter went on, "I come to my instructions to you,
general. You will move with your division toward the southern
shore of Lake Neusiedl, and cut off the way of our fugitives toward
the Tyrol. There is also another task which you must undertake. The
mysterious maid, once she is in our hands, must be treated with the
utmost courtesy and respect. A remarkable destiny awaits her. You
know the emperor is going to separate from Josephine. A new palace
will be built for the new empress. Who is the fortunate lady? As
yet, no one can tell. A royal maid who can bring as her dowry the
crown of a sovereign. A marriage that would unite the imperial
crown with the crown of Hugo Capet would firmly establish
Napoleon's throne. The legitimate dynasty would then be satisfied
with the sovereign chosen by the people. This fugitive maid is, I
hear, lovely, amiable, generous, pure, as only the ideal of a
sovereign can be."

Vavel stamped his foot in a paroxysm of fury. Had this miscreant written
that Marie was to be imprisoned in a convent, he could have borne it.
But to suggest that his idol, his pure, adored image of a saint, might
become the consort of the man on whom all the savage hatred of his
nature was concentrated--this was more horrible than all the torments of
hell. But he must calm himself and read the letter to the end.

"With this probability in view, I request that you send your wife
and daughter, with a proper escort, of course, to meet me in one of
the border cities, say Friedberg, where the ladies will be prepared
to take charge of the maid. You will understand that a lady of her
exalted position must travel only in company with distinguished
persons. Countess Themire Dealba's role is concluded. She must not
be allowed, in any character, to accompany our presumptive
sovereign to Paris. She will receive her five millions of francs,
as promised, and that will conclude our business transactions with
her. Pray communicate my desire to your wife and daughter, and bid
them prepare for the journey.

"Very truly,

"MARQUIS DE FERVLANS."

Not for one instant did Ludwig Vavel deliberate as to his course of
action.

He could not leave his post. For a soldier to quit his post before the
enemy is treason. He hurried back to his tent. Satan Laczi was stretched
on the bare ground, sleeping soundly.

Ludwig shook him vigorously.

"Awake--awake! You must depart at once."

Satan Laczi sprang to his feet.

"Take my own horse, and ride for your life the shortest way to
Fertoeszeg."

"And what am I to do there?"

"Do you remember that an officer once asked you to steal the treasure I
kept concealed in the Nameless Castle?"

"Yes; but I did n't do it."

"Well, I want you to do it now for me."

"Which do you want, the maid or the casket?"

"Both, if possible; the maid in any case. But you must be sure that she
is alone when you approach her. Then say merely the name 'Sophie Botta,'
and she will listen quietly to what you have to say. Then show her this
ring,--here, put it on your left thumb"--he drew the steel ring from his
own thumb and slipped it on to Satan Laczi's,--"and say, 'The person who
wears this ring sent me to fetch you away from here. You are to come
with me at once.'"

"And where am I to take her?"

"You will have a carriage with four swift horses at the park gate
nearest the cemetery, and must drive with the maid to Raab.--Don't stop
on any account until you get there. In Raab you will inquire for the
house of Dr. Tromfszky, who is our army physician. He will have been
advised of your coming, and will take charge of the maid. Then you will
return to me here, and report what you have done. Here is a passport; if
you are stopped at our lines show it to the guard. And here is a purse;
don't spare the contents. And do not speak to a living soul about your
mission."

"Your orders shall be obeyed," responded Satan Laczi, as he turned to
leave the tent.

Vavel did not go back to the officers' tent. He went out into the night,
and stood with folded arms, gazing with unseeing eyes into the darkness.




PART VIII

KATHARINA OR THEMIRE?


CHAPTER I


It was a delightful May evening. Marie was practising diligently her
piano lesson, in order to surprise Ludwig with her progress when he
should return from the war. That he would return Marie was quite
certain.

Katharina had gone into the park for a solitary promenade. She had
complained all day of a headache--a headache that began to trouble her
after she had read the letter she had received that morning from the
Marquis de Fervlans. She held the letter in her hand now, and read it
again for the hundredth time.

Yes, she had accomplished her mission successfully; the fugitive maid
and the important documents were in her possession; and yet her
trembling hand refused to grasp the promised reward. A fortune awaited
her for the comedy she had played with such success--a comedy in which
she had acted the part of the charitable lady of the manor.

And what if there had been something of reality in the farce? Suppose
her heart had learned to thrill with emotions hitherto unknown to it?
Suppose it had learned to know the true meaning of gratitude--of love?

But five millions of francs!

If she were alone in the world! But there was Amelie, her dear little
daughter, who was now almost fifteen years old--almost a young lady.
Should she leave Amelie in her present disagreeable position, a member
of "Cythera's Brigade," or should she send for her, and confess to the
man whose respect she desired to retain that the child was her daughter,
and that she was a widow? Could she tell him what she had once been?
Would he continue to respect, to love her?

Five millions of francs!

It was an enormous sum, and would become hers if she should order the
carriage, and, taking Marie and the casket with her, drive leisurely
along the highway until stopped by a troop of soldiers that would
suddenly surround the carriage. A politely smiling face would then
appear at the window of the carriage, and a courteous voice would say:

"Don't be alarmed, ladies. You are with friends. We are Frenchmen."

But to renounce the love and respect so hardly won! Ah, how very dearly
she loved the man to whom she had betrothed herself in jest! In jest?
No, no; it was not a jest!

But five millions of francs!

Would all the millions in the world buy one faithful heart?

Katharina was suffering for her transgressions. She had intended to play
with the heart of another, and had lost her own. Besides, she could not
bear to think of betraying the innocent girl who loved and trusted her
and called her "mother."

But time pressed. Three times already Jocrisse had interrupted her
meditations to inquire if her answer to the marquis's letter was ready.
And still she struggled with herself. When Jocrisse appeared again, she
said to him:

"My letter is of such importance that I cannot think of intrusting it
to the hands of a stranger. You yourself, Jocrisse, must take it to the
marquis."

"I am ready to depart at once, madame."

Katharina wrote her reply, sealed it carefully, and gave it to Jocrisse,
who set out at once on his errand.

In the letter he carried were but three words:

"_Io non posso_" ("I cannot").

Katharina locked herself in the pavilion in the park, and gave orders to
the servants not to admit any visitors, whether acquaintances or
strangers.

An hour or more had passed when she heard a timid knock at the door, and
an apologetic voice said:

"A strange gentleman is here. I told him your ladyship would see no one;
then he bade me give your ladyship this, which he said he had brought
from Paris."

Katharina opened the door wide enough to receive the object. It was a
small ivory locket, yellow with age. Katharina's hand shook violently as
she pressed the spring to open it. She cast a hasty glance at the
miniature,--the likeness of her daughter Amelie,--then said in a
faltering voice: "You may tell the gentleman I will see him."

In a few minutes the visitor entered the pavilion.

"M. Cambray!" exclaimed the baroness.

"Yes, madame; I am Cambray, with my other name, Marquis Richard
d'Avoncourt. I am he to whom you once said: 'I shall be grateful to you
so long as I live.'"

"How--how came you here?" gasped the baroness.

"I managed to escape from my prison at Ham, went to Paris, where I saw
your daughter--"

"You saw my daughter?" interrupted the baroness, excitedly. "Did you
speak to her? Oh, tell me--tell me what you know about her."

"You shall hear all directly, madame. I told the countess that I
intended to search for her mother, and asked if she had any message to
send to her."

"Did she send a letter with you?" again interrupted the baroness.

"She did, madame. But before I give it to you I should like to have a
shovel of hot coals and a bit of camphor."

"But why--why?" demanded the baroness.

"I will tell you. Do you know what Napoleon brought home with him from
the bloody battle of Eilau?"

"I have not heard."

"The 'influenza.' I dare say you have never even heard the name; but you
will very soon hear it often enough! It is a pestilential disease that
is rather harmless where it originated, but when it takes hold of a