their company into two bands, resolved to pursue separate routes, both having the same objective point, the city of Gran in Hungary.
Wild hilarity arose in the rough encampment. Coarse songs and jests mingled strangely with the lamentations of the prisoners. These creatures, chiefly young women and grown girls, had never before been separated from parents and neighbors in their quiet villages. The shock of sudden seizure, and the violence and destruction to their homes, rendered them crazed and hysterical. But one or two of their number retained more control of their judgment. These exerted themselves to encourage their despairing sisters. With fiendish cunning the marauders selected one of these to accompany each Caravan, in order to appease the weeping unfortunates. More presentable appearance and an earlier market formed the only motive for this proceeding. The two groups bade each other a most affectionate farewell. One of these two leaders seemed to be universally a favorite; and all expended especial fervor in their final greetings. “Farewell, Eudocia, dear,” they cried amid choking sobs, “and if we never meet again on earth you shall live in our hearts forever.”
Little souvenirs, of no inherent value, were exchanged all around. Locks of hair were rudely cut, knotted up with shreds of string or cotton or woolen torn from raiment all too scanty. Kisses and melting tears commingled the emotions and heart throbs of young and suffering souls, and the
