CHAPTER V

"MY FATHER WAS A RUSSIAN!"

When the war was over, the Prince roamed sadly for years about Europe--
Europe, which, unmindful of the martyrs, had permitted the massacre of
the vanquished. It was many years before he could accustom himself to
the idea that he had no longer a country. He counted always upon the
future; it was impossible that fate would forever be implacable to a
nation. He often repeated this to Yanski Varhely, who had never forsaken
him--Yanski Varhely, the impoverished old hussar, the ruined gentleman,
now professor of Latin and mathematics at Paris, and living near the
Prince off the product of his lessons and a small remnant he had managed
to save from the wreck of his property.

"Hungary will spring up again, Yanski; Hungary is immortal!" Andras
would exclaim.

"Yes, on one condition," was Varhely's response. "She must arrive at a
comprehension that if she has succumbed, it is because she has committed
faults. All defeats have their geneses. Before the enemy we were not a
unit. There were too many discussions, and not enough action; such a
state of affairs is always fatal."

The years brought happy changes to Hungary. She practically regained her
freedom; by her firmness she made the conquest of her own autonomy by the