The rising was not then publicly talked of, though known to be in full
preparation throughout the country. All the young and brave hearts
among us were pledged to it, and my cousins did not hesitate to tell
me in confidence that Count Emerich and his sister were its chief
promoters in that district. They had a devoted assistant in Father
Cassimer. He had been their mother's confessor, and lived in the house
for five-and-thirty years, saying mass regularly in the parish church,
a pine-built edifice on the edge of the forest. Father Cassimer's hair
was like snow; but he was still erect, strong, and active. He said the
church could not spare him, and he would live to a hundred. In some
respects, the man did deserve a century, being a good Pole and a
worthy priest, notwithstanding one weakness which beset him, for
Father Cassimer took special delight in hunting. It was said that
once, when robed for mass, a wild boar chanced to stray past; whereon
the good priest mounted his horse, which was usually fastened to the
church-door, and started after the game in full canonicals. That was
in his youth; but Father Cassimer never denied the tale, and the
peasants who remembered it had no less confidence in his prayers, for
they knew he loved his country, and looked after the sick and poor.
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