DEATH FOR A KISS
Paul Beldi took the direct route from Karlsburg to Bodola. All the way
he was tormented by the thought which Teleki's words had called up
again. In itself a kiss is a very innocent matter but if another knows
of it, has noticed it?--if this should be only one pole of the world
of distrust about which the soul revolves bringing up now this, now
that, which might have happened before and after,--and then too
another knows of it?--The husband thought that a kiss nobody knew
about caused no defect in his wife's virtue--but now it lived on the
lips of others; perhaps still more; perhaps the world was dragging his
honor in the dust while he supposed it well guarded, and the first
sound of the derision to him so deadly had just reached his ear, and
that too from his most hated foe. . . .
Night interrupted his thoughts. The horses were tired out, Beldi had
given them no rest, had had no fresh relays,--only on and on. He
wished to get home as quickly as possible--to have under his eyes that
wife who had cost him such disgrace--who knows how much!-- But is it
sufficient satisfaction to see a woman weep or die when a man still
lives on whom he might take revenge?--a man too who had been his enemy
from the time when they had both served as pages of Gabriel Bethlen
and who now sought out the most sensitive spot in his heart to tear it
with his ruthless hand.
"Turn about!" he shouted to the driver. "Take the road to
Klausenburg."
The old servant shook his head, turned into a side road and soon lost
the road so completely in this wandering by night that he was at last
obliged to confess to his master that he did not know himself where
they were. Beldi trembled with inward emotion. Looking about him he
saw not far off a light, and quite out of temper he bade the coachman
drive toward it. They drove into the courtyard of a lonely country
house. The barking of the great house-dog brought out the master, in
whom Beldi recognized old Adam Gyergyai one of his dearest friends
who, as he recognized Beldi, hurried forward to embrace him, beside
himself with joy.
"Good-evening, my dear friend," said the good old man, covering his
guest with kisses:--"I do not ask what good fortune has brought you to
me."
"To tell the truth, I have lost my way. I was on my way to
Klausenburg. I shall go on this very night, and with your permission
leave my horses here to rest."
"What have you to do there that is so pressing?"
"I must carry some news," said Beldi, evasively.
"If that is all, why need you hasten so? You can certainly trust it to
a letter and one of my servants on horse shall carry it at once to the
place while you stay here."
"You are right," said Beldi, after some consideration;--"it will be
better for me to manage the matter by letter." So he asked for writing
materials, sat down and wrote Banfy. Writing usually brings a certain
soberness to one's thoughts, so this letter was in quite a moderate
tone. He informed Banfy that he summoned him to Szamos-Ujvar to adjust
an affair of honor. With that Beldi sealed the letter and intrusted it
to Gyergyai with the request that he be so kind as to send it.
"So you are writing to Banfy, my good friend," said the old man,
looking at the address of the letter. "You could have talked with him
a little while ago. What have you two to arrange with each other that
is so urgent?"
"You remember, my friend," replied Beldi, "that you saw me once in the
lists with Banfy, at the time of the tournament when George Rakoczi
was the master?"
"Oh yes, you had overcome all other contestants but could do nothing
against each other."
"On that occasion you said that you would like to see which one of us
would carry off the victory in a real engagement."
"Yes, I remember that too."
"Now you shall see."
Gyergyai looked Beldi in the eye.
"My friend, I do not know what this letter contains but from your
expression I infer your thought. I have heard my father say that a man
should not send off the same day a letter written under excitement,
but should lay it under his pillow and sleep on it. The advice is not
bad. Do not send your letter off before morning; in fact I will not
send it to-night."
Beldi complied with the old man's advice. He put the letter under his
pillow, lay down, fell asleep and dreamed. In his dream he was happy
with his wife and children. The noise of a wagon passing by in the
morning awakened him. The first thing that his hand touched was his
letter to Banfy. He broke it open, read it through again, and--was
very much ashamed that he had written anything of the kind.
"Where was your understanding, Beldi?" he asked himself with a smile,
tore the letter in two and threw it into the fire. "How they would
have laughed at you!" he thought. "They would have said you were an
old fool to whom it had occurred late in life to be jealous of the
mother of his children on account of a kiss given by a man in his
cups and received against the lady's will." What a weapon he would
have given Banfy if he had announced that he was not sure of his wife
on Banfy's account. "We will go straight to Bodola," he said gently to
his servant when he entered, and then he took leave of his host.
"And what about the letter you were going to send?" asked Gyergyai
with concern.
"I have already conveyed it--to the flames!" replied Beldi, smiling,
and went on his way with his feelings quite changed. As he approached
Bodola he noticed from a distance the members of his family who had
been watching for him from the castle balcony; as soon as they
recognized his carriage they hurried down to meet him. When he reached
the foot of the castle hill there they all were,--his wife and
children; they threw themselves on his neck with cries of joy and he
kissed each one several times over, but especially his dear devoted
wife on whom he feasted his eyes. It seemed to him that her eyes were
brighter, her face more charming, her lips sweeter than ever. "What
fools men are!" thought Beldi. "When they do not see their wives they
are ready to believe everything bad of them, and when they do see them
they forget it all."
He was so abandoned to his joy that he did not observe that there was
a stranger in the family circle, but the stranger made haste to
attract his attention. He was Feriz Bey, a handsome, well-built young
Turk, with frank, noble features resembling a Hungarian's.
"You do not notice me, or perhaps you do not remember me," said the
youth, stepping up to Beldi.
Beldi glanced at him and thought he recognized him, but did not
venture to call him by name until his younger daughter Aranka hanging
on her father's arm said with a childlike laugh:
"Have you forgotten Feriz Bey? I knew him at once."
Beldi extended his hand to the youth with a cordial greeting.
"My father sends me to you with an urgent message and had you not come
I should have ridden after you. When your family rejoicing is over
call me, for my mission admits of no delay."
Beldi was surprised at the serious tone of the youth, and as soon as
he reached the castle called him aside to a private room. Then the
young Bey gave him a roll fastened with a yellow seal and tied with
cords. Beldi broke it open and read as follows:
"May heaven protect and defend you and your family.
Transylvania is in peril; the Grand Seignior is
aroused by the conflict between Dionysius Banfy and
the Pasha of Nagy Varad. It is reported that this
nobleman is in correspondence with the Roman emperor.
See to it that the country bridles Banfy; you have
still force sufficient. The Sultan has sworn that if
the Prince should not prove a match for him and know
how to command he will drive them both out of the
country and intrust the control of Transylvania to a
pasha. The pashas of Nagy Varad and Temesvar, the
princes on the frontier and Tartar Khan have received
orders to hold themselves in readiness to make their
way into Transylvania from all sides at the first
signal. Keep that noble lord under check for death
hangs over your heads by a mere thread.
"Your good friend,
"KUTSCHUK PASHA."
Beldi's face grew dark as he read these lines. So then it was in vain
for him to put Banfy's name out of his mind; this letter called it up
again and in an aspect still more hateful. He folded the letter, and
in a few words gave the serious youth a reply for his father.
"Inform your father that our action shall anticipate the threatened
evil. I send my thanks for the warning."
With this reply Feriz Bey left the castle. Beldi remained alone in his
room; deep in thought he paced back and forth, and racked his brain to
find out some way to meet the peril, but he saw none. It was not to be
expected that a man of Banfy's pride would make any concessions to
the Pasha, especially after his victory and in a just cause. And yet
the justice of the cause must give way to the welfare of the country.
Deep in these and similar thoughts he did not notice that some one was
knocking at his door. When no answer was made to the thrice-repeated
knock the door opened and Beldi, rousing himself from his meditation,
saw Michael Teleki. Beldi was at first so bewildered that his speech
forsook him. "You seem surprised at my coming," said Teleki, noticing
Beldi's astonishment. "You are amazed that I should have followed you
such a distance after an absence of barely twenty-four hours. Great
changes have taken place. Transylvania is threatened by a peril which
must be prevented at once."
"I know it," replied Beldi, and let Teleki read Kutschuk Pasha's
letter with the exception of the signature.
"You know more than I," said the minister; "what I wished to say of
this affair is a secret which not even walls may hear."
"I understand," said Beldi, and at once gave orders that no one should
come into the entrance hall, stationed guards under the windows and
had the curtains drawn. Only one way was left unguarded, and that was
a door in the arras at the back of the room, which led by a narrow
hallway to his wife's sleeping room, an arrangement often found in the
houses of the Hungarian nobility. By way of precaution Beldi closed
even that door.
"Do you feel safe enough?" he asked Teleki.
"One thing more. Give me your word of honor that in case the
information communicated to you does not meet your approval you will
at least guard it as a secret."
"I promise solemnly," replied Beldi, tense for the development. With
that Teleki drew out a sheet of parchment folded several times, spread
it out and held it under Beldi's eyes without letting it go out of his
hands. It was the League formed against Banfy signed and sealed by the
Prince. The farther Beldi read in the document the gloomier he grew.
Finally he turned to Teleki and thrust the paper from him with
loathing.
"My lord, that is a dirty piece of work!"
Teleki was prepared for such a reception and summoned his usual
sophistry to his aid.
"Beldi," he said, "this is no time for strait-laced notions. It is the
end and not the means in this case. This is the worst only because it
is the last. It is the last because there is no other way left. If
anybody in the country has attained to such despotism that the arm of
the law is no longer strong enough to bring him into the courts, then
he has only himself to thank if the state is compelled to conspire
against him. The man who cannot be reached by the executioner's axe
is struck by the dagger of the assassin. When Dionysius Banfy set at
naught the commands of the Prince and began war on his own account he
put himself outside the law. In such a case when the justice of the
state has lost its authority it is natural to take refuge in secret
justice. If anybody has wronged me and the law cannot procure me
satisfaction I make use of my own weapons and shoot him down wherever
I find him. If the country is wronged by anybody who escapes
punishment, it must make use of the jus ligatum and have the man
seized. The general welfare demands this and the general peril drives
us to it."
"God's hand controls us," said Beldi. "If he will destroy our
fatherland let us bow our heads and die with a quiet conscience--die
in the defence of liberty; but let us never raise our arms to the
destruction of our own hereditary justice. Rather let us endure the
evils that have their origin in this freedom, than lay the axe to its
very root. Let war and conflict over freedom enter our land rather
than any conspiracy contrary to its laws. The one sheds the blood of
the nation but the other kills her soul. I disapprove of this League
and will fight against it."
At this Michael Teleki rose, fell on his knees before Beldi and said
with his hands raised to heaven:
"I swear by the Almighty Living God: so may he grant me salvation,
protect my life, prosper my wife, my children, as I am your true
friend; and because I know that Banfy's every effort is directed to
destroy you and your home therefore do I announce to you that if you
love your life, that of your wife, your children, you must meet this
impending danger by signing the League. Now I have said all that I
could to save you and the fatherland and that too at my own peril. I
wash my hands in innocence."
Beldi turned in calm dignity toward the Prince's minister and said in
a tone of firm conviction:
"Fiat justitia, pereat mundus."
* * * * *
A few minutes after Teleki's arrival at Bodola a rider came bounding
into the castle yard. It was Andrew the faithful old servant of Madame
Apafi, who inquired for Madame Beldi, handed her a letter from the
Princess and added that this was the more urgent as he had recognized
Teleki's carriage in the courtyard, which he should have preceded.
Madame Beldi broke open the letter, and read:
"MY DEAR FRIEND: Michael Teleki has gone to your
husband. His purpose is to ruin Banfy secretly by
Beldi's hand. The nobles have taken an oath to break
the law. Fortunately every one of them has a wife in
whose heart the better feelings are not yet dead. I
have called on each one separately to guard her
husband against Teleki's malice. I hope to attain the
greatest result through you. Beldi is the most
distinguished among them; if he agrees to the League
the rest will follow his example; but he is also the
most honorable man and the best husband. I count on
your firmness; use every means.
"Your friend,
"ANNA BORNEMISSA."
Madame Beldi almost gave way when she read this letter. Teleki had
been talking for half-an-hour with her husband and the servants had
brought word that every one had been ordered away from the lords'
vicinity, even from the entrance hall. The entire situation became
clear to the lady's mind at once. She was terrified! perhaps it was
already too late and she could not get to her husband. What should she
do? Then she remembered the secret way from her room to her husband's
and she hurried along, reached the arras door, stood there and
listened. She heard only the voice of Teleki, who spoke with growing
passion amounting to vehemence. She looked through the key hole and
saw how Teleki knelt before her husband and with upraised hands and
oaths sought to persuade him. At this sight Madame Beldi was
terror-stricken. Why did the proud, powerful man kneel before Beldi?
What was he swearing so passionately? Suddenly Banfy's name rang on
her ear. Horror seized her, and at the moment when Beldi answered:
"Let justice prevail though the world fall," she thought in her
ignorance of Latin that her husband had consented, and in her despair
she pressed the latch of the door. When this did not open she pulled
at it with frenzied strength and shouted passionately; "My husband, my
beloved master! Lord of my heart! Do not believe one word Teleki says,
for he will ruin you!"
At this passionate outcry the man started up in affright and Beldi
arose with annoyance, went to the door and said to his wife angrily:
"Stay in your own province, my wife."
Madame Beldi lost her presence of mind entirely. The thought that her
husband might assent to Teleki's plan made it impossible for her to
comprehend the situation. She forgot that even the best man is ashamed
to have it publicly known that he is under the control of his wife,
and merely to prove the contrary would be inclined to be untrue to the
very convictions he would have followed without compulsion.
Consequently Madame Beldi rushed into the room, sank down at her
husband's feet, clung to his knees and called out in an impassioned
voice:
"Sweet lord of my heart! By the Almighty God, I implore you, do not
believe this man. Do not be influenced by him to bring innocent blood
on your head. You have always been just. You cannot turn hangman!"
"Wife, you are mad!"
"I know what I am saying. I saw him on his knees before you. He who
believes in God does not kneel before any man. He means through you to
ruin Dionysius Banfy. Woe to us if you do that, for if he is the first
you will be the second."
When Teleki saw his secret disclosed in this way he was furious.
"If my wife did that to me," he said, violently, "I would tear her
eyes out of her head. If anybody wished to help me for my own safety I
should thank him for it rather than leave him to be met by my wife in
an insulting way."
Beldi called out angrily to his wife to leave at once.
"I shall stay even if you kill me: for this is a case of life and
death. Here the peace of your family is at stake and in that I have a
right. I too may speak. I beg, I entreat you, undertake nothing
against Banfy."
Beldi was ashamed of this attack upon his manly supremacy and could
hardly control himself. When his wife mentioned Banfy he started as if
a viper had stung him. The effect of this name did not escape Teleki
and he said ironically and with meaning:
"It seems women pardon certain things more readily than their
husbands." The sharp allusion went through Beldi's soul like
lightning. The kiss came into his mind. The kiss! Pale and speechless
he seized his wife by the arm and her sob only serving to fan his
jealousy, he dragged her through the arras door and locked it behind
her. There she lay sobbing violently, cursing the princely counsellor
loudly and beating against the closed door with her hand. Beldi sat
down white as death and with teeth set, called out to Teleki:
"Where is the document?"
Teleki spread it out before him on the table. Without a word Beldi
took his pen and with steady hand wrote his name under that of Michael
Apafi's. A smile of triumph played about Teleki's lips. When that had
been accomplished there was once more a threatening, an accusing knock
at Beldi's heart. He laid his hand on the paper and turned with
serious glance toward Teleki.
"I make one condition," he said, hoarsely. "If Banfy does not oppose
his arrest with weapons right and justice must be granted him
according to legal forms."
"It shall be so--just so," replied the Prince's counsellor, and
reached for the paper.
And still Beldi did not give it up. Still he did not let it go out of
his hand.
"My lord," he said, "promise me also, that you will not put Banfy to
death secretly, but when he is arrested you will bring suit against
him according to the usual mode of procedure, in a regular court of
justice. If you do not assure me of this, then I will tear this paper
in two and throw it into the fire with the Prince's signature and
mine."
"I assure you, on my word!" promised the Princely counsellor, at the
same time inwardly smiling at the man who while he was still upright
showed himself weak, and when he had already fallen strove to show
himself firm.
With the League signed Teleki went the same day to Ladislaus Csaki,
from him to Haller and then to Bethlen. As soon as they saw Beldi's
name they signed, for all hated Banfy. In every house the husbands
fell out with their wives. Nowhere did Teleki escape calumny.
Nevertheless the League was established.
So Transylvania made her own grave.