At the close of the war the young men of Toroczko who had served in the national guard returned home and resumed their work in the mines and iron foundries. The mining classes had always been exempt from military service in the imperial army, and so the Toroczko young men had no fear of being soon called away again from their peaceful industry.

Out of these young artisans Manasseh set about forming a guild for the better working of the Toroczko mines. He wished to make intelligent and skilful mining engineers of them, and so enable them to avail themselves, more fully than they had yet done, of the mineral resources of their native hills. And having now had some experience of military discipline, these young men offered him material of no mean order for his experiment. They seconded his efforts with a will, reposing the utmost confidence in their leader, and perceiving that he knew thoroughly what he was undertaking.

It was a great piece of good fortune for Manasseh that he had a partner in his enterprise who was in fullest sympathy with him, and in whom he could place the utmost trust. This partner kept the accounts of the business in which the two had invested their all, and showed the keenest intelligence and the most watchful vigilance in guarding their joint interests. This expert accountant and able manager was none other than Manasseh's wife. In the third year of her marriage, however, she had something else to engage her attention beside iron-mining: in that year the house of Adorjan was increased by the birth of twins,—Bela and Ilonka, the former a likeness in miniature of his father, and the latter a second Blanka. But their aunt Anna insisted on sharing the mother's cares, and soon she assumed almost entire charge of the little ones, thus enabling Blanka to resume her business duties.

In this way everything was running smoothly, when one evening there came a government order requiring all men between certain ages to report within three days at Karlsburg for military service; any who refused would be treated as deserters. Three quarters of Manasseh's workmen came under the terms of this order; but they promptly obeyed and went to Karlsburg, where, after being found physically qualified, they were enrolled for six years' service,—three extra years being added to the usual term because they had neglected to report voluntarily.

This was a hard blow to Manasseh's enterprise. He resolved to go to Vienna and petition for the exemption of his employees from military duty, claiming for them the miners' privileges which they had enjoyed hitherto.

Well acquainted though he had been in government circles in the past, Manasseh now found everything changed and scarcely a familiar face left. Like the veriest stranger, he was forced to wait with the crowd of other petitioners in the war minister's anteroom until his turn should come. Much to his surprise, however, the great man's door suddenly opened and Prince Cagliari advanced to meet him with a face all smiles and words of honey on his lips.

"Ah, my dear friend, how glad I am to see you!" began the prince. "All well at home? That's good. And what brings you hither, may I ask? You come on behalf of your countrymen who were recently drafted? Ah, yes." (Then in a whispered aside: "We'll soon arrange that; a word from me will suffice.") Again aloud: "A very difficult matter, sir, very difficult indeed! These recent complications in the Orient compel us to raise our army to its highest effective strength." (Once more in a whisper, with a stealthy pressure of the hand: "Pray give yourself not the slightest concern. I'll speak to his Excellency about it this very minute.")

Manasseh was by no means pleased at finding himself placed under obligations to Prince Cagliari, but he could not well refuse such a gracious offer of assistance. Accordingly, when the prince returned and smilingly informed him that he had put the petition in the minister's hands, and obtained a promise that it should be speedily taken under favourable consideration, Manasseh forced himself to smile in return and to express his acknowledgments to his intercessor as he took leave of him.

The petition was, in fact, taken under early advisement, and three days after Manasseh's return to Toroczko he was summoned to Karlsburg to learn the issue.

"Your memorial has reached us from Vienna with a refusal," was the chilling announcement that greeted him.

"Impossible!" cried Manasseh, in astonishment. "I was promised a favourable answer."

The government official only shrugged his shoulders and laughed.

"On what ground is the petition rejected?" asked Manasseh.

"On the ground that those for whom you petition forfeited their privileges as miners by taking up arms in '48. Having taken them up once, they cannot refuse to do so a second time."

Manasseh's bitter reflections were somewhat sweetened by the thought that, after all, he was not in any way indebted to Prince Cagliari. But he owed him more than he suspected. As he was turning to go, the government official detained him a moment longer.

"I hope," said he, as if by way of a casual remark, "that your own exemption from service is a matter of no uncertainty."

"My own exemption!" repeated Manasseh, in amazement. It had not once occurred to him that he, a former government councillor, might be drafted into the army. But he controlled his indignation at what seemed an ill-timed jest, and added, calmly: "At any rate, I cannot be charged with having forfeited my rights as a miner by taking up arms in 1848."

"That remains to be seen," was the cool reply. Then, after some search among his papers, the official produced a document from which he read as follows: "'Mr. Manasseh Adorjan is alleged, on unquestionable authority, to have participated in the fight at St. George and Toroczko. In fact, he with his own hands took General Diurbanu prisoner and bound him with a rope to his horse. Only the animal's impatience of control saved the rider and secured him his freedom.'"

After listening to this astounding accusation against him, Manasseh recognised that he was far more deeply in Cagliari's debt than he had supposed.

"I have accomplished my mission in brilliant style," was his report when he reached home. "Not only my workmen are drafted, but I also along with them."

The women were struck with consternation, but Aaron burst out laughing.

"Oh, you poor innocent!" he cried, "how can you be a soldier with one shoulder six inches higher than the other?"

"What, am I really so misshapen as that?" asked Manasseh, in surprise.

"To be sure, or at least you can make yourself so for the nonce. Don't you remember how our neighbour Methuselah's grandson went limping about with one leg longer than the other, when the recruiting officer was here?"

"Methuselah's grandson may do that kind of thing," answered Manasseh, "but not an Adorjan. I can't practise any deceit of that sort."

"Deceit!" cried Aaron; "we are deceiving no one—only the government."

"And is the government no one?" asked his brother.

"Well, it's all right to outwit the Austrians," muttered Aaron.

"I don't agree with you," was all Manasseh could say. "If I am ordered to march I shall obey. My poor lads are obliged to exchange the pick for the rifle, and shall I, their master, shirk my duty?"

"Manasseh is right," declared Anna. "What will do for a grandson of Methuselah will not do for an Adorjan. When an Adorjan's name is called he must answer to it like a man. Our brother will be the pride of his regiment, and will soon rise to be an officer; then he can obtain his discharge and come home."

Manasseh pressed his sister's hand in gratitude for these words of courage and good cheer.

"Yes, but suppose he has to go to war?" objected Blanka.

"Never fear," returned her husband. "Even if Austria becomes involved in the present dispute, the Hungarian regiments are not likely to be sent to the front. They will be stationed in Lombardy, where all is as quiet as possible."

"Then I will go with you," said Blanka, brightening up.

"No, you must stay with us," Anna interposed. "You and the children are best cared for here, and, besides, if Manasseh goes away you will have to look after the iron works. New hands are to be engaged, and ever so much is to be done all over again. How can you think of leaving us in the lurch? There will be no one but you to manage things; you alone can direct the works and put bread into our poor people's mouths."

"Ah, me!" sighed the distressed wife; "and must I live perhaps a whole year without seeing Manasseh—a whole autumn, winter, spring, and summer?"

Anna's eyes filled with tears and a sigh escaped her lips. How many a season had she seen pass, without hope and without complaint! Blanka knew the meaning of those tears, and she hastened to kiss them away.

And so it came about that the Toroczko young men, and Manasseh with them, were sent off to Lombardy. Thence every month came a letter to Toroczko, to Blanka Adorjan, from her devoted husband. The very first one told her how he had risen from private to corporal and then from corporal to sergeant. But there he stuck. On parting with his wife, he had consoled her with the confident assurance that in a year, at most, she would see him return; but the year lengthened into five. Little Bela no longer sent meaningless scrawls to his father, but wrote short letters in a round, clear hand, and even added verses on his father's birthday. But not a single furlough could that father obtain to go home and see his dear ones. Nor did he gain his long-expected promotion to a lieutenancy. The colonel of the regiment wrote letters with his own hand to Blanka, praising her husband and telling her how he was looked up to by all his comrades and esteemed by his officers; and yet he could not secure his promotion. Even the commandant at Verona had interceded for him in vain. He must have a powerful enemy who pursued him with relentless persistence.

Blanka well knew who that enemy was, but she took no steps—for she felt that they would have been useless—to try to soften him. Her family were united in opposing any suggestion on her part of undertaking a journey. She did not even venture to visit her husband in Verona. An instinct, a foreboding, and also certain timely warnings, kept her safe at home.

This long period of trial and suspense was not without its chastening effect on the young wife's character. It developed her as only stern experience can. On her shoulders alone rested the cares which her husband had formerly shared with her. The iron works were now under her sole management. Foresight, vigilance, and technical knowledge were called for, and nobly did she meet the demand.

Those five years brought her many a difficult problem to solve and many an anxious hour. Once a hail-storm destroyed all her crops two days before the harvest, and she was forced to buy grain from her own purse. Again it happened that the crop of iron itself was ruined by something far worse than hail. Some one at Vienna dealt a mortal blow to all the iron mines in the land with a single drop of ink. He lowered the tariff, and native iron production thenceforth could go on only at a loss. But Blanka was determined not to close her mines and her foundries. She recognised the hand that had dealt her this severe blow, but she knew the harsh decree would have to be repealed before long, such an outcry was sure to go up against it. So she pawned her jewels, kept all her men at work,—they seconded her efforts nobly by volunteering to take less than full pay,—and wrote nothing at all about her troubles to Manasseh.