expressed the broadest astonishment, and leaping to the ground he advanced quickly towards her.

Speaking in a soft, silky voice and using polished, well-turned phrases, he expressed his regret at the conduct of the Nationals, and offered to accompany her home.

"You will encounter neither danger nor insult while with me," he concluded smilingly.

The girl looked at him in genuine scorn.

"Your offer comes too late," she said coldly. "These two gentlemen and my servant Franz are ready to protect me from all the cut-throats in Vienna, either in or out of uniform."

The stranger's face turned white, but his eyes burned like fire, and I prepared for mischief.

He controlled his passion, however, bowed low, and made a sign to the Nationals, who stood back, leaving the way to the gates clear.

As for the girl, she took no further notice of him, but, still leaning on my arm, walked out haughtily.

Franz marched in front with his club, Stephen, who had replaced his pistols, followed, while we two brought up the rear.

It was difficult to carry on a conversation, owing to the shouting; and indeed it suited me well enough to walk in silence, and to glance from time to time at the face of my beautiful companion.

At last Franz stopped before a large house, and the fräulein, making a gracious inclination of the head, begged us to enter, that her mother might thank us for what we had done.

Stephen, who cared little for the society of ladies, would have declined the honour, but I did not give him the chance, thanking her myself for her courtesy.

So the three of us--the lady leading--passed over the threshold, and, traversing a wide hall, mounted a stately staircase, which led to a magnificent apartment, as sumptuously furnished as any I had seen in Paris.

Here we were left by our charming guide, who, however, shortly returned with an older lady, grave and ceremonious, but no doubt kindly at heart.

This was the Baroness von Arnstein, the mother of the proud yet dainty girl, whom she called Theresa, and the wife of an officer highly placed in the army commanded by Prince Windischgratz.

The baroness listened to her daughter's story, and at the end thanked us for having, as she was pleased to say, saved her child's life.

Having passed an hour very pleasantly, and promised to repeat our visit, we took our leave of the ladies, and once more found ourselves in the streets of the excited city.

It was late evening now, and rapidly growing dusk; but the people were still abroad, shouting, singing the French Marseillaise, and congratulating each other on the result of the day's doings.

Many, however, occupied the time in far different fashion. Some paid visits to the principal shops, especially to those containing food or weapons, which they promptly seized. Others, with an eye to the future, were erecting barricades or strengthening old ones, and trying to put the city in a state of defence.

"Imbeciles!" exclaimed Stephen angrily. "When Windischgratz arrives he will knock the place about their ears. I wonder what has become of Rakoczy."

"She has the most beautiful eyes," I murmured, pursuing my own train of thought, "and of the loveliest blue. And what remarkable bravery to be shown by a girl so young!"

"Remarkable folly," replied my brother, "if you are speaking of the Austrian maid; but enough of her. Let us think of Rakoczy. The poor fellow may be dead, or sorely needing our help."

"If so, he will take some finding. I haven't seen him since we left the bridge; but I don't think 'The Joyous' will come to any harm. Look at that red light in the sky! There is a big fire somewhere."

"It is at the arsenal, my brave Hungarians!" said a wild-looking fellow staggering along beneath a load of plunder. "The students are attacking the arsenal. Never fear, my boys! We'll soon give you your independence!"

This speech was particularly galling to Stephen, who moved on quickly, saying, "Come, George; it is likely we shall find Rakoczy there."

It was difficult to get near the arsenal, as the streets were crowded, and from some we had to turn back, owing to the erection of barricades.

We were hungry, too, having eaten nothing since the early morning; and seeing an open café, I persuaded Stephen to enter. The place was dirty, and the food not the best; but hunger is a good sauce, and we ate what was set before us without complaining.

From the talk of the men in the café we learned that the soldiers guarding the arsenal were making a stout fight against the students and National Guards, though, unless reinforcements arrived, they were certain to be overpowered by numbers.

"Well," said one fellow, chuckling, "we have our revolution at last. There's no drawing back for the faint-hearts now."

"Latour's death has let them in up to the neck," said another. "They'll find it mighty hard to pull out of that bog!"

"And a good job too!" replied the first speaker. "What's the use of making a revolution in kid gloves? Strike while the iron's hot is my motto. Why should we stop at Latour when there's bigger game to be found at Schönbrunn? Why not--"

Fortunately by this time we had finished our meal, and were moving to the door; so, linking my arm in Stephen's, I led him out hastily.

Though the government called him a Hungarian rebel, he had scanty sympathy with Austrian republicans, and I feared an explosion which would do little good.

Once outside the shop, we forgot the incident in looking at the sky, which, near the arsenal, had now become a deep-red colour, made more intensely vivid by the increasing darkness.

"The building's on fire!" I said. "The garrison will have to surrender."

"Unless the sparks fall on the powder-magazine, and then--"

"It will be farewell both to soldiers and students!"

A man whose face was blackened by powder, came up the street shouting, "The arsenal's captured! Cheers for the brave students!" and immediately the people set off running.

"Let us go too!" said Stephen. "It is possible we may find our friend;" and I, knowing how irresistibly a fight attracted "John the Joyous," willingly agreed.