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The Wallachians watched their leader’s countenance with sharp, suspicious glances.

Numa recognized the two heads by the light of the moon. They were those of Imre and Jolanka, but his features did not betray the slightest emotion.

“You will know them probably,” continued Lupey. “The young magnate, who escaped us at the pass, came for the girl in your absence, and at the same time stole your money, and, what is more, we found your pazsura upon him also.”

“Who killed them?” asked the Decurio, in his usual calm voice.

“None of us,” replied the Wallachian; “as we rushed upon them, the young magnate drew two pistols from his girdle, and shot the girl through the head first, and himself afterwards.”

“Were you all there?”

“And more of us besides.”

“Go back and bring the rest. I will divide the money you have found on them among you. Make haste; and should one of you remain behind, his share will be divided among the rest.”

The Wallachians hastened to seek their comrades with cries of joy.

The Decurio then locked the door, and, throwing himself upon the ground beside the two heads, he kissed them a hundred times, and sobbed like a child.

“I warned you not to go toward Hungary!” he said bitterly. “Why did you not hear me, unhappy children? why did you not take my word?” and he wept over his enemies’ heads as if he had been their father.

He then rose, his eyes darting fire, and, shaking his terrible fist, he cried, in a voice hoarse with rage: “Czine mintye!”*

* Czine mintye!–A Wallachian term signifying revenge.

In a few hours, the Wallachians had assembled before the Decurio’s house. They were about fifty or sixty, all wild, fearful-looking men.

Numa covered the two heads with a cloth, and laid them on the bed, after which he opened the door.

Lupey entered last.

“Lock the door,” said Numa, when they were all in; we must not be interrupted;” and, making them stand in a circle, he looked around at them all, one by one.

“Are you all here?” he asked at last.

“Not one is absent.”

“Do you consider yourselves all equally deserving of sharing THE BOOTY?”

“All of us.”

“It was you,” he continued to Lupey, “who struck down the old man?”

“It was.”

“And you who pierced the magnate with a spike?”

“You are right, leader.”

“And you really killed all the women in the castle?” turning to a third.

“With my own hand.”

“And one and all of you can boast of having massacred, and plundered, and set on fire?”

“All! all!” they cried, striking their breasts.

“Do not lie before Heaven. See! your wives are listening at the window to what you say, and will betray you if you do not speak the truth.”

“We speak the truth!”

“It is well!” said the leader, as he calmly approached the bed; and, seating himself on it, uncovered the two heads and placed them on his knee. “Where did you put their bodies?” he asked.

“We cut them in pieces and strewed them on the highroad.”

There was a short silence. Numa’s breathing became more and more oppressed, and his large chest heaved convulsively. “Have you prayed yet?” he asked in an altered voice.

“Not yet, leader. What should we pray for?” said Lupey.

“Fall down on your knees and pray, for this is the last morning which will dawn on any of you again.”

“Are you in your senses, leader? What are you going to do?”

“I am going to purge the Roumin nation of a set of ruthless murderers and brigands. Miserable wretches; instead of glory, you have brought dishonor and disgrace upon our arms wherever you have appeared. While the brave fought on the field of battle, you slaughtered their wives and children; while they risked their lives before the cannon’s mouth you attacked the house of the sleepers and robbed and massacred the helpless and the innocent. Fall down on your knees and pray for your souls, for the angel of death stands over you, to blot out your memory from among the Roumin people!”

The last words were pronounced in a fearful tone. Numa was no longer the cold unmoved statue he had hitherto appeared, he was like a fiery genius of wrath, whose very breath was destruction.

The Wallachians fell upon their knees in silent awe, while the women who had been standing outside, rushed shrieking down the rocks.

The Decurio drew a pistol from his breast, and approached the cask of gunpowder.

With a fearful howl, they rushed upon him; the shriek of despair was heard for an instant, then the terrible explosion which caused the rocks to tremble, while the flames rose with a momentary flash amidst clouds of dust and smoke, scaring the beasts of the forest, and scattering stones and beams, and hundreds of dismembered limbs, far through the valley, and over the houses of the terrified inhabitants!

When the smoke had dissipated, a heap of ruins stood in the place of Numa’s dwelling.

The sun rose and smiled upon the earth, which was strewed with the last leaves of autumn, but where were those who had assembled at the spring-time of the year?

The evening breezes whispered mournfully through the ruined walls, and strewed the faded leaves upon eleven grassy mounds.

The pen trembles in my hand–my heart sickens at the recital of such misery.

Would that I could believe it an imagination–the ghostly horror of a fevered brain!

Would that I could bid my gentle readers check the falling tear or tell them: “Start not with horror; it is but romance–the creation of some fearful dream–let us awake, and see it no more!”