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Day was beginning to dawn as a troop of horsemen galloped furiously towards the castle from the direction of Kolozsvar.

They were Imre and his comrades.

Silently and anxiously they pursued their course, their eyes fixed upon one point, as they seemed to fly rather than gallop along the road. “We are too late!” exclaimed one of the party at last, pointing to a dim red smoke along the horizon. “Your castle is burning!”

Without returning an answer, Imre spurred his panting horse to a swifter pace. A turn in the road suddenly brought the castle to their view, its blackened walls still burning, while red smoke rose high against the side of the hill.

The young man uttered a fierce cry of despair, and galloped madly down the declivity. In less than a quarter of an hour he stood before the ruined walls.

“Where is my father? where are my family? where is my bride?” he shrieked in frantic despair, brandishing his sword over the head of a half-drunken Wallachian, who was leaning against the ruined portico.

The latter fell to his knees, imploring mercy, and declaring that it was not he who killed them.

“Then they are dead!” exclaimed the unhappy youth, as, half-choked by his sobs, he fell forward on his horse’s neck.

Meanwhile his companions had ridden up, and immediately sounded the Wallachian, whom, but for Imre’s interference, they would have cut down.

“Lead us to where you have buried them. Are they all dead?” he continued; “have you not left one alive? Accursed be the sun that rises after such a night!”

The Wallachian pointed to a large heap of fresh-raised mould. “They are all there!” he said.

Imre fell from his horse without another word, as if struck down.

His companions removed him to a little distance, where the grass was least red.

They then began to dig twelve graves with their swords. Imre watched them in silence. He seemed unconscious what they were about.

When they had finished the graves they proceeded to open the large pit, but the sight was too horrible, and they carried Imre away by force. He could not have looked on what was there and still retain his senses.

In a short time, one of his comrades approached and told him that there were only eleven bodies in the grave.

“Then one of them must be alive!” cried Imre, a slight gleam of hope passing over his pale features; “which is it?–speak! Is there not a young girl with golden locks among them?”

“I know not,” stammered his comrade, in great embarrassment.

“You do not know?–go and look again.” His friend hesitated.

“Let me go–I must know,” said Imre impatiently, as the young man endeavored to detain him.

“O stay, Imre, you cannot look on them; they are all headless!”

“My God!” exclaimed the young man, covering his face with both hands, and, bursting into tears he threw himself down with his face upon the earth.

His comrades questioned the Wallachian closely as to what he knew about the young girl. First he returned no answer, pretending to be drunk and not to understand; but on their promising to spare his life, on the sole condition that he would speak the truth, he confessed that she had been carried away to the mountains, where the band were to cast lots for her.

“I must go!” said Imre, starting as if in a trance.

“Whither?” inquired his comrades.

“To seek her! Take off your dress,” he continued, turning to the Wallachian, “you may have mine in exchange,” and, hastily putting on the tunic, he concealed his pistols in the girdle beneath it.

“We will follow you,” said his comrades, taking up their arms; “we will seek her from village to village.”

“No, no, I must go alone! I shall find her more easily alone. If I do not return, avenge this for me,” he said, pointing to the moat; then, turning to the Wallachian, he added sternly: “I have found beneath your girdle a gold medallion, which my grandmother wore suspended from her neck, and by which I know you to be one of her murderers, and, had I not promised to spare your life, you should now receive the punishment that you deserve. Keep him here,” he said to his comrades, “until I have crossed the hills, and then let him go.”