Twilight had deepened into night when the two men arrived at Raab. The
clocks were striking eight, and the French trumpets were sounding the
retreat at every gate. Vavel, therefore, would not be allowed to enter
the city until the next morning; but Master Matyas, who did not stop to
inquire which was the proper way when he wanted to go anywhere, knew of
a little garden that belonged to a certain tanner, and very soon found
an entrance along a rather circuitous route among the tan-vats.
Vavel had already seen battered walls, and dwellings ruined by bombs and
flames, yet the thought that he should find his loved ones amid these
smoke-blackened ruins oppressed his heart.
The two men attracted no attention. In the last days there had been many
strangers in the city, deputations from the militia camps, to assist in
establishing the line of demarcation. Master Matyas, without difficulty,
led the way among the ruins to the neat little abode where the worthy
vice-palatine had established his proteges. When they came within sight
of the house Matyas observed:
"The two Frenchmen with their bearskin caps are not on guard to-day.
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