THE PRINCE AND HIS MINISTER
A few years had passed since Apafi rose to his princely rank. We are
in the period when, in consequence of the sudden death of Nicholas
Zrinyi the party of Hungarian malcontents had lost their standing and
most of them had gone to Transylvania, which country was rejoicing in
Home rule, owing to the rivalry of the German and Turkish monarchs.
True, the country paid the Sublime Porte a tribute, but in its diets
it could make what plans it would; and if the Tartars did burn the
villages of the country to the ground, in that very act they gave
proof that they did not consider the country their own. All the
fortresses were in the hands of the Prince, who could maintain as many
soldiers as he had means to pay, and carry on war whenever he found
himself in a position to do so. Furthermore, if it gave him any
satisfaction, he could even dupe the Turks.
The Turk did not find anything to object to in the constitution of the
country; in its privileges, its patriarchal aristocracy, its Latin
language and Hungarian costume, nor in its many religions; all that
did not concern him. He pitied from his soul the poor people who gave
so bright an outlook to the affairs of the country. He did not exert
himself in the least to procure them a more exact acquaintance with
his own simple system; in this respect he was like the Turk in the
story, who when he saw a Hungarian eating with his open knife in hand,
sat down behind in confident expectation that the Hungarian would put
out his eyes in carrying his knife to his mouth, and when he saw that
this did not happen, went away in the pleasant belief that it
certainly would happen a little later.
* * * * *
Great changes had taken place in Ebesfalva in this time; the princely
residence was no longer the simple manor house. At some distance from
that, on a height, the Prince had a castle built with a high square
tower, and from each corner rose small pointed turrets; the entrance
was guarded by two stone lions, and on the façade was this inscription
in high relief:
"Fata viam invenient."
Beyond the carved columns along the front was a corridor connecting
one wing of the castle with the other; the windows were all made with
pointed arches and with antique decorations, and the inner court was
reached through an arched passage under the building. In this
courtyard instead of plows and wagons we now see rampart guns and long
culverins. Instead of farm boys, we see outside the gates guards in
yellow cloaks and red hose. To reach the Prince's office you must pass
through long passage-ways and echoing apartments where pages announce
your arrival from door to door, and when at last the reception-room is
reached you stand not in the presence of the Prince but of Michael
Teleki, his first counsellor. He is the same bald-headed man whom we
met on that memorable day that saw the death of Nicholas Zrinyi.
In early days the good man had been only a captain fallen into
disfavor with George Rakoczi. Since then his affairs had prospered and
he was now chief captain of Kövar and all powerful in the name of the
Prince. His mother was the sister of the Princess. Through the
protection of his aunt he came into the protection of the Prince. Once
there Teleki needed no further support; his comprehensive mind, his
extended acquaintance, his statesmanlike training made him
indispensable to the Prince, who preferred to bury himself in his
books and antiquities and considered himself hindered by anything that
took him from his family or his studies.
His reception-room to-day was crowded with men who wished to speak to
his Excellency. They were the Hungarian fugitives whom the Prince
seemed to hold in special horror. These restless, gloomy people,
always in quest of war, did not suit the placid, meditative nature of
the Prince. Now he shut them all out, and admitted only, of all his
courtiers, a learned pastor, John Passai who had a professorship in
Nagy-Emged, and was dear to the Prince on account of his learning.
Apafi's office looked more like that of a student than a ruler. The
walls were covered with bookcases, in the corners were maps, and on
the narrow spaces remaining were clocks, which the Prince wound up
himself. The chairs and sofas were covered with books needed at once,
so that often when the Prince received the visit of a friend he did
not know where to seat him. Sometimes even the floor was covered with
maps, dusty documents and open books; if Teleki entered at such a
moment he would have to pick his way with as much care as a man
looking for a dry path through the mud.
At this moment Apafi and the pastor stood before a table on which lay
some old coins. Apafi looked carefully at a gold piece, turned it in
his fingers and held it to the light. Passai stood in front of the
Prince like a post, hat in hand, with knitted brows. Apafi twirled the
coin and studied it on both sides.
"Those are not Roman letters," he growled, "neither are they Greek nor
Arabic; and they certainly are not Hunnic. I have never seen such
characters. Where were they found?" he asked, turning to Passai.
"In Varhely, when the Wallachians were clearing away the old temple."
"Why did they clear it away?"
"It was an old ruin that they called a Roman temple."
"But it cannot have been a Roman temple, for it is not a Roman coin."
"I agree with you, but the Wallachians are in the habit of calling
every ruin in Transylvania Roman."
"But why did they clear it away?"
"The villagers thought they might burn the statues for lime."
"O godless people!" cried Apafi, "to make lime out of rare works of
art. Did you not try to save at least part from destruction?"
"I bought a cover of a sarcophagus adorned with sculpture, and a well
preserved sphinx; but it was not convenient for the Wallachian who was
moving them to lift them whole, so he broke the statues in five or six
pieces that he might carry them in his cart more easily."
"He deserves to be impaled! I will have a law passed that nobody
hereafter shall dare lay hands on any antique."
"I am afraid your Excellency will be too late, for when the people
learned that I was paying for their stones, the story went abroad that
I was hunting for diamonds and carbuncles in the stones, and they
broke them all up in such small pieces that now they might be used
for writing sand."
"Have you spoken with the Lord of Deva about the mosaic?"
"He will not let it go at any price. He said that none of his
ancestors had ever sold any of their possessions. If he would only
allow it to be moved from the spot where it was found,--but he will
not even consent to that. As it is the corn-stall stands over it and
the oxen lie on the figures of Venus and Cupid."
"I have a great mind to confiscate the property and so get possession
of the priceless treasures," said Apafi, with the zeal of a student,
and again turned to examine the puzzling coin.
At this moment Teleki entered the Prince's apartment with an important
air, took some writing from a silk envelope, opened it and placed it
in Apafi's hand. The Prince appeared to read it with care and knit his
brow as he did so. Suddenly he called out, "They certainly are Dacian
letters!"
"What!" said Teleki, astounded, with wide open eyes. He could not
comprehend how the Prince had found Dacian writing in the letter
handed him.
"Yes, I am positive. I remember reading, perhaps in Dio Cassius, that
the Romans had medals struck with a Dacian inscription and on the
obverse the picture of a headless man. Here it is."
"But your Highness," said Teleki with annoyance, "the writing that I
handed you"--
Now for the first time Apafi noticed that there was a parchment in his
hand waiting to be read, and sullenly gave it back to Teleki.
"I have told you already that I did not wish to see anybody to-day. In
a month's time the Diet will be convened and then the Hungarians may
talk about their affairs as much as they will."
"But, I beseech your Highness," replied Teleki, satirically, "this
writing has nothing to do with the Hungarians, but with his grace the
Tartar Khan."
"What does he want?" said Apafi, and glanced at the parchment, but
when he saw its length he laid it aside. "I will make short work of
him. Who brought the letter?"
"An Emir."
Apafi girded on his sword and went into the reception-room.
"Good-day, good-day," he said, hastily, to those assembled. In this
way he made an end of their long greetings, and gave a searching
glance through the throng.
"Where is the Emir?"
At this the Tartar deputy came forward. He stood boldly before the
Prince with an air of consequence.
"Salem Alech."
"What is it?" said Apafi, curtly.
The Emir measured the Prince keenly with his piercing eyes, threw his
head back and said:
"My lord, the gracious Kuba Khan sends word to you, Prince of the
Giaours, that you are a false, faithless, godless man. You gave your
word of honor that we should live as neighbors and how do you conduct
yourself now? A year ago it happened that in passing through Saxony we
visited cities the names of which a true-believer may not utter, and
there took our usual plunder in due form. They were always profitable,
but as some of them were not quite quick enough in the payment of the
tribute, at the command of his Grace, Kuba Khan, they were burned to
ashes as punishment, that they might improve. Then did they improve?
Not at all. For when we visited there again this year we found only
the bare walls that we had left before. The unbelieving dogs fled
before us and left us only a search. So then, my lord the mighty Kuba
Khan sends word to you to know what kind of a Prince you are that you
allow these unbelieving dogs to leave their towns and make fools of
us. Formerly when we came the hay had been put in barns, the grain
threshed and the cattle fatted; now we find nothing but weeds, with
hares and other unclean creatures that you unbelievers are accustomed
to eat. And that we may not take our revenge, the towns are not built
up again. Now if you do not wish to bring down upon your head the
wrath of the mighty Khan, see to it that you order those fugitives
back to their towns, and send word to the rest of the Saxon towns that
have surrounded themselves with inaccessible walls, to open their
gates to us. Otherwise we will visit you in Klausenburg with fire and
sword and leave not one stone above another."
During this speech Apafi had several times grasped his sword. Then he
reconsidered and said calmly:
"Go back, give greetings to your lord, and tell him that we will give
him satisfaction at once."
Then he turned his back on the messenger and would have left the room
at once, but Teleki placed himself in his way.
"That is not enough, your Highness. Once for all there must be an end
made of this dog-headed Tartar's coming into the presence of the
Prince of Transylvania with such a speech."
"Then speak to him yourself."
Teleki advanced toward the Emir with an earnest, dignified expression,
looked him fixedly in the eye, and said firmly:
"Your lord is indeed the ruler of Tartary, and my lord the Prince of
Transylvania, and his Majesty, the Sultan is one lord of us all. Know
then that his Majesty the Sultan did not make your lord Khan of
Tartary to dwell at Vienna, nor did he set Michael Apafi on the
throne of Transylvania to support your lord. Go back to your land and
do not come here any more to wonder that a town burned down by you one
year is not built up the next. We will take care that the houses are
rebuilt and also that the bastions are made high enough to keep you
off. If you have any desire to pay us a visit in Klausenburg we will
take care that you do not have your trouble for nothing, and shall
know how to greet you from afar with our good cannon."
The Emir fumed with rage; his eyes were bloodshot, his hand felt for
his dagger and he stammered out:
"If a slave should make such a speech in the presence of my lord he
would have his head cut off at once."
Apafi now touched Teleki on the shoulder and said:
"Good, Teleki! you spoke like a man."
The Emir turned on his heel and hurried out of the room, shaking his
fist.
This scene put Apafi into a good humor, especially toward Teleki. The
minister read this in the Prince's face and took advantage of it at
once. Taking one of the bystanders by the hand he brought him up to
Apafi and introduced him in these words:
"My future son-in law, your Excellency."
An introduction under any other title would probably have been evaded
by Apafi, but in this form it was impossible not to accept it. He
found himself compelled to look at the young man. He was a
fine-looking, slender youth and had no trace of a beard. With his
feminine features the only sign of the man was his independent
bearing. Apafi was pleased with him.
"What is the name of your son-in-law?" he asked Teleki.
The latter answered with a peculiar smile:
"Emerich Tököli, son of Stephen Tököli."
At mention of this name Apafi grew serious and said:
"Your father was a good friend of mine." But he did not offer him his
hand.
"I know that," replied the young man, "and for that reason I sought
your Highness."
"If only he had not been such a disturber of the peace. It is well
that you have not followed his counsel. I remember well the contest
between the defeated and half-crazed David Zolyomi. Both had married
daughters of Bethlen, who had received as dowry in common the castle
of Bajda-Hunyad; one had one-half, and one the other; after the two
men had taken counsel together they gathered their servants in their
respective castle-yards, began battle and shot at each other from the
opposite windows; both had a great love for war. Your father was in
battle just before his death. In the very hour of death he needed the
thunder of cannon and the tumult of the siege. It is well that you are
not like him. You look gentle."
"That is praise undeserved," said Tököli, proudly. "I too was in the
stormed castle and defended it until my father fell."
Apafi heard this with displeasure. However he wished to show interest
in the youth and so after a pause he asked:
"And how did you happen to save yourself?"
At that Emerich turned red and did not answer at once.
Teleki told the truth as if excusing the youthful fire of the young
man.
"He is so young that in woman's clothes he easily escaped the notice
of the besiegers."
This amusing explanation put Apafi in good humor again. He stroked the
bright red cheeks of the boy and motioned to Teleki to introduce the
rest of the men. They were all of them Hungarian fugitives. The Prince
exerted himself to meet them kindly. Just then an official entered and
announced,
"His Excellency, the ambassador of France wishes to be admitted."
Evident confusion came over Apafi. He drew Teleki to him and whispered
in his ear,
"I will not, I cannot receive him. Go out and speak with him and
explain the matter to him."
Apafi slipped quickly out of the reception-room, rejoiced that this
time he had rolled off the burden on Teleki. However he stood and
listened at the door thinking that there might be some sudden outbreak
after his back was turned. And something did happen, though not of a
character to make one's hair stand on end. The ambassador uttered a
jovial laugh, and with that all in the room burst out laughing as if
at a word of command.
"Something strange must have happened," thought Apafi, "to force these
men to such offensive laughter," and he opened the door part way. But
he could not fully open the door, for the learned Passai, renowned for
his gravity, had fallen into such a fit of laughter that he leaned
against the door of the private office.
"Let me in, Passai," said the curious Prince; and when the door was
opened the cause of the general laughter became clear. The worthy
minister stood in the middle of the room clad in Hungarian costume.
You cannot imagine anything more comical! the good man, aside from the
fact that he was quite stout, was smooth-shaven and wore always a
friendly smile; but this unusual costume gave him an appearance so
ridiculous that only a Hungarian can appreciate it. Everybody knows
that the Magyar costume for men shows the figure very plainly. Then
too the worthy Frenchman moved about so helplessly in his tight hose
and spurred boots that it seemed as if he might lose his footing any
moment. He had forgotten to put on his scarf, which added to the
comical effect of his costume, his long curled wig, making him look
for all the world like a lion, and his round hat with a long heron's
feather completed his droll appearance. Apafi saw no reason why he
should not join in the laughter.
With the French ease in mingling jest and earnest the ambassador
tripped up to him and said,
"Your Highness, you have so many times refused me admittance that the
idea occurred to me that perhaps I did not come in appropriate
costume, and as your Highness sees, results have proved the wisdom of
the idea for now that I have approached you in Hungarian costume I
have been so fortunate as to see you."
"Parbleu!" replied Apafi, with difficulty, suppressing his desire to
laugh. "I am always glad to see you. The only condition I impose is
that politics shall not enter into our conversations. But you have no
sash, and without the sash the Hungarian costume is as incomplete as
the French costume without culottes."
Saying this the Prince took a jeweled sash and himself fastened it
about the figure of the ambassador.
"And what does this mean? who told you to stick your handkerchief in
your trousers? only a haiduk does that, a nobleman puts his in his
calpac. But what a fine handkerchief that is of yours!"
"Is it not a beauty?"
"It is, indeed, with its silk wreaths and gold and silver embroidery
around the hem. Paris alone can furnish the like."
"But the truth is it was made in Transylvania."
"Incredible!"
"And what is more in Ebesfalva."
Apafi looked at the Reverend gentleman in astonishment.
"And I am not to know the skilful hands that busy themselves in this
way!"
"Your Highness does know them. The name of the maker is in one corner
of the handkerchief embroidered in beautiful Gothic letters."
Apafi looked at each corner of the handkerchief in turn; no two were
embroidered alike; in one was a wreath of oak leaves, in one a trophy,
in the third a Turkish, a Hungarian and a French sword fastened
together with a ribbon, in the fourth under a Prince's crown was
embroidered the name Apafi.
The Prince read the name aloud. The bystanders looked at him timidly
expecting an outburst of anger. To the astonishment of all a smile
played over the Prince's lips; he put the handkerchief in the Reverend
gentleman's hat, put this on the ambassador's head, and said with very
good humor:
"So you have succeeded in winning over my wife?"
The minister laughed at the ambiguous joke.
"But you will not win me," added Apafi, laughing.
The minister bowed low; then held his head erect and said
significantly:
"Those mightier than I will accomplish it."
At this moment the door opened and a servant announced:
"Her Highness Anna Bornemissa, wife of Apafi, wishes to be admitted to
the presence of the Prince."
Apafi looked at Teleki.
"This is your work."
Teleki answered calmly: "At your service, Highness."
"Did you bring the ambassador to the Princess?"
"Even so, Highness."
"Then it was you who advised him to appear in this masquerade that he
might the more readily draw me out."
"That too was my work, your Highness."
"A very foolish plan on your part, Michael Teleki."
"That remains to be proved, your Highness," thought his minister, in
proud consciousness of his clever superiority.
Madame Apafi entered the room. Her bearing was princely as was her
dress. The gentlemen present vied with each other in greeting her.
Apafi stepped quickly toward her, drew her arm within his and
endeavored with marked consideration to take her to his private room.
"Let us stay here," said the Princess. "It is time enough to look at
your Dutch clocks later; at present there are more serious affairs
before us; the gentlemen from Hungary are waiting for a hearing."
"I know already what they wish, and have said that I will not hear
anything more on the subject."
"Then you will listen to me. Yes, to me. I too am a Hungarian and make
supplication to the Prince of Transylvania for help in the name of my
Fatherland. That it may not be said that I influenced the Prince's
will in secret, I have come here publicly before his throne and
beseech him for protection for Hungary, whose sons are called
strangers here in Transylvania where her daughter is the princess."
It was evident to all that Apafi would have much preferred to listen
to men rather than to his wife, but he was caught this time. She stood
before him as a suppliant, and there was no way of escape. Teleki
ordered the pages outside not to give admittance to any one else.
Apafi sat in an armchair in feverish excitement, and listened to the
words of his wife. But before Anna could begin her speech the rattling
of a coach was heard in the courtyard, and shortly after came the
sound of decided footsteps through the corridor, and an imperious
voice familiar to all inquired if the Prince was within.
When the page attempted to stand in his way a still more authoritative
voice called, "Out of the way, boy." At the same time Dionysius Banfy
pushed his way into the room. He was just as he had alighted from his
carriage. His cheeks were redder than usual and his eyes blazed; he
went directly to the Prince and said without preliminaries:
"Do not listen to these men, your Highness, do not listen to a word
they say."
The Prince greeted Banfy with a smile and the words, "Welcome,
kinsman."
"Pardon, your Highness, that in my haste I forgot to greet you; but
when I heard that these Hungarians had gained audience here I was
beside myself. What do you want?" he went on, turning to the Hungarian
nobleman. "It is not enough for them that they have brought their own
country to ruin by their restlessness; they would like to drag ours
down too."
"You speak of us," said Teleki, with cold scorn, "as if we belonged
to some Tartar race and had been driven here from God knows what
strange, savage country."
"On the contrary, I have spoken of you, my lords, as people who from
the very first have by your restlessness involved Transylvania in a
course leading to destruction. The Hungarians are, to a man, stupid."
"I beg you not to forget that I too"--said Madame Apafi.
"It is with no pleasure that I see the will of your Highness is
authority here."
Madame Apafi turned to her brother-in-law in injured pride:
"I shall not for that reason cease to remain your well-wishing
relative," and with these words she left the room.
"You might have spoken to the Prince more becomingly," said Teleki,
sharply, to the great lord.
"What have I said to the Prince, as yet?" asked Banfy, shrugging his
shoulders. "I cannot get anywhere near him with you in the way. So
far, I have only spoken against those, and shall continue to speak
against those who have absolutely no right to stand at the foot of the
throne. I mean you too, Michael Teleki. I know very well why you have
this Hungarian campaign so much at heart. It is not enough for you to
stand first after the Prince in Transylvania, you would like to be
Palatine of Hungary as well. What a delusion you are cherishing! The
French promise help to Hungary. Hungary promises Teleki the
Palatinate. Teleki promises Apafi a crown; and all are lying, and all
are going to deceive one another."
"My lord," replied Teleki, bitterly, "is it allowed to speak so to
guests, to kinsmen who are unfortunate and in exile?"
"Nobody need instruct me in magnanimity," replied Banfy, proudly.
"Guest and fugitive have always found refuge with me; and if these
fugitives wish us to share our home, our fatherland with them, here is
my hand; I receive them to a share. But in the same way in which I
should have the sense to forbid my guests to set fire to the house
over my head, so do I protest against setting fire to the country. And
if they do not stop trying to disturb the peace once more prospering
in our country I will use every means to have them driven out."
"These words need not surprise us," said Teleki in bitter satire,
turning to the noblemen, "My gracious lord has been of late years
pardoned by the Prince. Before that time he was in arms against us."
Apafi sat uneasily. "Have done with this quarreling. You are
dismissed. As you see my counsellors are in opposition and without
them I can do nothing."
"We will bring it before the Diet," said Teleki, solemnly.
The Prince withdrew, greatly annoyed, to his private room, and the
lords went out the other door.
Banfy looked at him proudly as he went away and then straightened his
fur cap.
"My good standing is at an end," he said mockingly as he went away.
Teleki looked after him coldly. When all had gone Teleki whispered a
few words to a page, who went away and soon came back with a
curly-haired blonde youth.
It seems as if we had already seen this young man at some time, but
for so short a time that we cannot at once recall him. Over his warm
dress hung a beggar's pouch, and in his hand was a knotted stick.
"So at last you allow me to come into the presence of the Prince," he
said in a somewhat imperious tone to Teleki.
"Take your place here at the door," replied the minister. "The Prince
will soon pass on his way to dinner; you may then speak with him."
The young man with the beggar's pouch sat for a long time at the
Prince's door, until Apafi finally appeared and the beggar placed
himself at once in his way.
"Who are you?" asked the Prince astonished.
"I am the ransomed knight Emerich Balassa, who was once named among
Hungary's most influential men, and who now stands before your
Highness with a beggar's staff."
"You were concerned in that conspiracy, I believe," said Apafi, who
appeared unpleasantly affected by the scene.
"I was not, your Highness. If you will deign to listen to my story"--
"Tell it."
"As you well know there was once in Hungary a notorious Turkish
robber-knight, by name Corsar Bey, who for a long time laid waste the
upper country and whom the united powers of the counties could not
succeed in bringing under control, in his rocky fortress. This man I
caught by stratagem and in such a manner as to win over to my side his
favorite. Under pretext of an apparition she enticed him alone outside
the castle. I was duly informed, fell upon him with my men who had
been concealed in the forest, and took him captive with his favorite,
one of the most beautiful and unprincipled of women."
"I have already heard the story, Balassa. That was a worthy deed."
"Then hear the rest, your Highness. No sooner was the news of the
capture spread abroad than the Palatine demanded of me most
emphatically to give over my prisoners to him. The Turks had already
offered me sixteen thousand ducats for the two, but I would not let
them go at any price and sent word to the Palatine that if he wished
to call a Bey his own, he must crawl out from behind his wife's shadow
and catch one for himself. I had caught mine for my own use."
Apafi laughed loudly. "You gave him the right answer."
"At that the Palatine became angry and by the Emperor's command sent
troops against me who were to take my prisoners by force. His
Excellency your brother-in-law, Dionysius Banfy, had at that time
found refuge in my house and I introduced to him this woman who had
completely befooled me. He was to flee with her to my castle, Ecsed.
But when I saw that the Palatine interfered with every attempt of mine
to deliver Corsar Bey over to the Turks for the offered ransom, and
yet all he wanted of him was to cut his head off like any other
freebooter's, I gave the Turk poison, which he took gratefully for the
sake of escaping justice. Then when the Palatine's troops came they
found only the dead body which the Turks took off my hands for a
thousand ducats."
"Naturally the Palatine was angry with you for that," said Apafi.
"I had good cause to be angry with him, for I had lost fifteen
thousand ducats by him; yet he succeeded in getting a writ of arrest
against me from the minister. I scented it in time and got together my
valuables, intending to flee to Transylvania until the affair had
been forgotten. Then I hurried to my castle Ecsed where, as I have
said, Banfy had been sent before me with the Turkish woman. On the way
I learned that Banfy had been pardoned by your Highness and restored
to his former position. I rejoiced not a little that in him I should
find a powerful protector here. Imagine my astonishment when I reached
Ecsed to find the woman gone without a trace, and I learned from my
castle warden that Banfy had taken her with him and left a letter for
me. In the letter was written: 'My friend: Learn from this that a man
should never trust another with his horse, his watch, nor his love.'"
"What!" cried Apafi. "Is that the truth?"
"Your Excellency can see his writing," replied Balassa, and drew from
his pouch the letter referred to. "The woman must be hid somewhere in
his forest of Banfy-Hunyad, I suppose."
"That is monstrous!" said Apafi, glowing with anger. "Can a man with
such a beautiful, noble wife, my own wife's sister, so far forget his
duty as husband! I'll not forgive him that."
"Pardon me, your Highness, I have nothing more to do with Banfy. My
complaint is now urgently directed against Kapi."
"What have you against him? It is unheard-of to have so beautiful a
wife and yet keep a Turkish slave woman!"
"This Kapi was the man who had the use of my Transylvania estates. I
determined to know nothing more of Banfy and immediately took up my
quarters with Kapi in his castle of Aranyos. Of the splendor displayed
by this man I had never had the least idea before, although all my
life I had been to the courts of Palatines and Princes in no small
number. His wife did not put her foot to the ground, but was carried
to the very gate in a gilded chair, and she never wore the same gown
twice."
"What have I to do with Madame Kapi's finery?"
"I am coming to the point. It is just because of this finery that her
husband is compelled to resort to all kinds of trickery to satisfy the
wishes of his lady. Furthermore your Highness is concerned, for such
immoderate luxury only makes the contrast the more striking between
the simplicity of your Excellency's court life and the insolent
splendor of these small kings. And it carries its impression with the
strangers who so frequently visit us; the effect of it is already
felt; for when the Bavarian ambassador came recently to Aranyos from
Ebesfalva I heard him say in flattering tones to Madame Kapi that she
was the real Princess of Transylvania."
"Did he say that?" said the Prince, beginning to take great interest
in the affair. "Go on with your story. Did he say that Kapi's wife was
the real Princess?"
"In point of beauty and bearing she is not worthy to tie the shoe of
her Highness, the Princess Apafi, if you were to strip her of the
costly jewels that she wears in such numbers she can hardly move."
"Go on, go on."
"Now Kapi informed me one fine day that your Excellency had received
command from the Palatine to have me arrested and delivered over."
"I-- received command-- I never heard a word of it!"
"Unfortunately I believed the story, and thinking that I stood between
two fires saw no way of escape except to give over to Kapi my
Transylvania estates to prevent their falling into the public
treasury. In return for this he gave me a written promise that I
should have the property back again as soon as I was in a position to
receive it. I then determined to flee to Poland during the period of
danger. Kapi gave me two guides who were to lead me over the mountains
to the frontier, and at the time he sent word secretly to the guard on
the frontier that I was a spy sent by the Roman Emperor, who had been
finding out the affairs of Transylvania and would now like to get back
unseen. These rascals stopped me on the way, robbed me of all my money
and papers, and dragged me off to Karlsburg. There, it is true my
innocence was proved, but my money and my papers were lost. And now
Kapi asserts that I had actually sold him all my property and had
nothing left but this leather pouch."
"Be comforted," replied the angered Prince. "I will give you full
satisfaction."
"Your Highness owes it to his own authority," replied Balassa, by way
of urging on the Prince. "These nobles act as arbitrarily as if there
were nobody in authority over them."
"Do not be disturbed. I will soon prove to them that there is a Prince
in Transylvania." Apafi left the audience room very much excited.
Over the heads of two powerful men who stood in Teleki's way, the
storm was already threatening.