But this private grief was the least of his misfortunes, for while Paul Béldi and Nicholas Bethlen had been sitting in their dungeon the war party had had a free hand, so that when the two gentlemen were released they were astounded to learn from their partisans that only the sanction of the Diván was now necessary for a rupture of the peace.

Béldi perceived that to remain silent any longer would be equivalent to looking on while the State rushed to its destruction. He immediately assembled all those who were of the same opinion as himself—Ladislaus Csaky, John Haller, George Kapy—and consulted with them as to the future of the realm.

Béldi opined throughout that the Prince should be spared, but he was to be compelled to dismiss such councillors as Teleki, Székely, Mikes, and Nalaczi, and form a new council of state. Kapy would have done more than this. "If we want as much as that," said he, "it would be better to declare ourselves openly; and if we draw the sword, we shall have no need to petition, but can fight, and whoever wins let him profit by it and become Prince."

"No!" said Béldi, "I have sworn allegiance to the Prince, and though I love my country, and am prepared to fight for it, yet I will never break my oath. My proposition is that we assemble in arms at the Diet which is convened to meet at Nagy-Sink, together with the Szekler train-bands, and if we show our strength the Prince assuredly will not hesitate to change his counsellors, for I know him to be a good man who rather fears than loves them."

The gentlemen present accepted Béldi's proposition.

"Then here I will leave your Excellencies," said Kapy, stiffly buttoning his mente.19 "I am not afraid of war, for there I see my enemy before me, and can fight him; but I do not like these armed appeals, for they are apt to twist a man's sword from his hand and turn it against his own neck."

And he withdrew. The other gentlemen resolved, however, that they would all arm their retainers. At a word from Béldi the armed Szeklers of Háromszék, Csik, and Udvarhelyszék rose at once; they were ready at an hour's notice to rise in obedience to the command of their generalissimo.

The news of this audacious insurrection reached Michael Teleki at Gernyeszeg, who was beside himself with joy, well aware that Béldi was not the sort of man who was likely to prevail in a civil war whilst the contrary case would bring about his ruin, as he had now gone too far to draw back again. He immediately hastened to the Prince and, arousing him from his bed, told him that Béldi had risen against him, and so terrified Apafi that he immediately got into his coach, and fled by torchlight to Fogaras. Gregory Bethlen, Farkas, and the other counsellors also took to their heels in a panic—only Teleki remained cool. He knew the character of Béldi too well to be afraid of him.

So the spark of ambition and rage was kindled in Paul Béldi's heart, and for some days it looked as if he would be the master of Transylvania, for nothing could resist him with the Szekler bands at his side, and all the regular troops were scattered among the frontier fortresses.

But Béldi thought it enough to show his weapons without letting them be felt. Instead of a declaration of war he sent a manifesto full of loyalty to the Prince, in which he assured his Highness that he had taken up arms not against his Highness but in the name of the state; all he demanded was that the counsellors of the Prince should be tried by the laws of the realm.

Whilst this wild missive was on its way, Teleki had had time to call together the troops from the frontier fortresses, and send orders to those of the Szeklers who had not risen to assemble under Clement Mikes in defence of the Prince; and while Béldi awaited an attack, he proceeded to take the offensive against him at once.

One day Béldi was sitting in the castle of Bodola along with Ladislaus Csáky, when news was brought them that Gregory Bethlen, with the army of the Prince, was already before Kronstadt.

"War can no longer be avoided," sighed Csáky.

"We can avoid it if we lay down our arms," returned Béldi.

"Surely you do not think of that?" inquired Csáky in alarm.

"Why should I not? I will take no part in a civil war."

"Then we are lost."

"Rather we shall save thousands."

The same day he ordered his forces to disperse and return home.

The next day Gregory Bethlen sent Michael Vay to Bodola, who brought with him the Prince's pardon.

Csáky ground his teeth together. It occurred to him that he had got Denis Banfy beheaded, yet he too had received a pardon, and he inquired of Vay in some alarm: "Can we really rely on this letter of pardon?"

Michael Vay was candid enough to reply: "Well, my dear brethren, though you had a hundred pardons it would be as well if you courageously resolved to quit Transylvania notwithstanding."

Csáky gave not another moment's thought to the matter, but packed up his trunks, and while it was still daylight escaped through the Bozza Pass.

Béldi decided to remain; shame prevented him from flying.

Nevertheless, Michael Vay told his wife and children of his danger and they insisted, supplicating him on their knees, that he should hasten away and save himself.

"And what about you?" asked Béldi, looking at his tearful family.

He had two handsome sons, and his daughter Aranka had grown up a lovely damsel; she was the apple of her father's eye, his pride and his glory.

"What about you?" he asked with a troubled voice.

"You can more easily defend us at Stambul than here," said Dame Béldi; and Béldi saw that that was a word spoken in season.

That word changed his resolve, for, indeed, by seeking a refuge at the Porte, he would be able to help himself and his family much more, and perhaps even give a better turn to the fortunes of his country. There, too, many of the highest viziers were his friends who had very great influence in affairs.

He immediately had his horse saddled, and after taking leave of his family with the utmost confidence, he escaped through the Bozza Pass the same night with an escort of a few chosen servants into Wallachia, where he found many other fugitive colleagues, and with them he took refuge at the Porte—then the highest court of appeal for Transylvania.

CHAPTER XXII.
THE DIVÁN.

Through the parted curtains passed the members of the Council of the Diván. First of all came the Grand Vizier, a tall, dry man with rounded projecting shoulders; his head was constantly on the move and his eyes peered now to the right and now to the left as if he were perpetually watching and examining something. His brown, mud-coloured face wore an expression of perpetual discontent; every glance was full of scorn, rage, and morbid choler; when he spoke he gnashed his black teeth together through which he seemed to filter his voice; and his face was never for an instant placid, at one moment he drew down his eyebrows till his eyes were scarce visible, at the next instant he raised them so that his whole forehead became a network of wrinkles and the whites of his eyes were visible; the corners of his mouth twitched, his chin waggled, his beard was thin and rarely combed, and the only time he ever smiled was when he saw fear on the face of the person whom he was addressing; finally, his robes hung about him so slovenly that despite the splendid ornaments with which they were plastered he always looked shabby and sordid.

After the Grand Vizier came Kiuprile, a full-bodied, red-faced Pasha, with a beard sprawling down to his knees; the broad sword which hung by his side raised the suspicion that the hand that was wont to wield it was the hand of no weakling; his voice resembled the roar of a buffalo, so deep, so rumbling was it that when he spoke quietly it was difficult to understand him, while on the battle-field you could hear him above the din of the guns.

Among the other members of the Diván there were three other men worthy of attention.

The first was Kucsuk Pasha, a muscular, martial man; his sunburnt face was seamed with scars, his eyes were as bright and as black as an eagle's; his whole bearing, despite his advanced age, was valiant and defiant; he carried his sword in his left hand; his walk, his pose, his look were firm; he was slow to speak, and rapid in action.

Beside him stood his son, Feriz Beg, the sharer of his father's dangers and glory, a tall, handsome youth in a red caftan and a white turban with a heron's plume.

Last of all came the Sultan's Christian doctor, the court interpreter, Alexander Maurocordato, a tall, athletic man, in a long, ample mantle of many folds; his long, bright, black beard reaches almost to his girdle, his features have the intellectual calm of the ancient Greek type, his thick black hair flows down on both shoulders in thick locks.

The viziers took their places; the Sultan's divan remains vacant; nearest to it sits the Grand Vizier; farther back sit the pashas, agas, and begs.

"Most gracious sir," said Maurocordato, turning towards the Grand Vizier, "the poor Magyar gentlemen have been waiting at thy threshold since dawn."

The Grand Vizier gazed venomously at the interpreter, protruding his head more than ever.

"Let them wait! It is more becoming that they should wait for us than we for them."

And with that he beckoned to the chief of the cavasses to admit the petitioners.

The refugees were twelve in number, and the chief cavasse, drawing aside the curtains from the door of an adjoining room, at once admitted them. Foremost among them was Paul Béldi, the others entered with anxious faces and unsteady, hesitating footsteps; he alone was brave, noble, and dignified. His gentle, large blue eyes ran over the faces of those present, and his appearance excited general sympathy.

Only the Grand Vizier regarded him with a look of truculent indifference—it was his usual expression, and he knew no other.

"Fear not!—open your hearts freely!" signified the Grand Vizier.

Béldi stepped forward, and bowed before the Grand Vizier. One of the Hungarians approached still nearer to the Vizier and kissed his hand; the others were prevented from doing the same by the intervention of Maurocordato, who at the same time beckoned to Béldi to speak without delay.

"Your Excellencies!" began Béldi, "our sad fate is already well-known to you, as fugitives from our native land we come to you, as beggars we stand before you; but not as fugitives, not as beggars do we petition you at this moment, but as patriots. We have quitted our country not as traitors, not as rebels, but because we would save it. The Prince is rushing headlong into destruction, carrying the country along with him. His chief counsellor lures him on with the promise of the crown of Hungary in the hope that he himself will become the Palatine. Your excellencies are aware what would be the fate of Hungary after such a war. A number of the great men of the realm joined me in a protest against this policy. We knew what we were risking. For some years past I have been one of those who disapproved of an offensive war—we are the last of them, the rest sit in a shameful dungeon, or have died a shameful death. Once upon a time, as happy fathers of families, we dwelt by our own firesides; now our wives and children are cast into prison, our castles are rooted up, our escutcheons are broken; but we do not ask of you what we have lost personally, we ask not for the possession of our properties, we ask not for the embraces of our wives and children, we do not even ask to see our country; we are content to die as beggars and outcasts; we only petition for the preservation of the life of the fatherland which has cast us forth, and which is rushing swiftly to destruction—hasten ye to save it."

Kucsuk Pasha, who well understood Hungarian, angrily clapped his hand upon his sword, half drew it and returned it to its sheath again. Feriz Beg involuntarily wiped away a tear from his eyes.

"Gracious sirs," continued Béldi, "we do not wish you to be wrath with the Prince for the tears and the blood that have been shed; we only ask you to provide the Prince with better counsellors than those by whom he is now surrounded, binding them by oath to satisfy the nation and the Grand Seignior, for none will break such an oath lightly and with impunity; and these new counsellors will constrain him to be a better father to those who remain in the country than he was to us."

When Béldi had finished, Maurocordato came forward, took his place between the speaker and the Grand Vizier, and began to interpret the words of Béldi.

At the concluding words the face of the interpreter flushed brightly, his resonant, sonorous voice filled the room, his soul, catching the expression of his face, changed with his changing feelings. Where Béldi calmly and resignedly had described his sufferings, the voice of the interpreter was broken and tremulous. Where Béldi had sketched the future in a voice of solemn conviction, Maurocordato assumed a tone of prophetic inspiration; and finally, when in words of self-renunciation he appealed for the salvation of his country, his oratory became as penetrating, as bitterly ravishing, as if his speech were the original instead of the copy. Passion in its ancient Greek style, the style of Demosthenes, seemed to have arisen from the dead.

The listening Pashas seemed to have caught the inspiration of his enthusiasm, and bent their heads approvingly. The Grand Vizier contracted his eyelids, puckered up his lips, and hugging his caftan to his breast, began to speak, at the same time gazing around abstractedly with prickling eyes, every moment beating down the look of whomsoever he addressed or glaring scornfully at them. His screeching voice, which he seemed to strain through his lips, produced an unpleasant impression on those who heard it for the first time; while his features, which seemed to express every instant anger, rage, and scorn in an ascending scale, accentuated by the restless pantomime of his withered, tremulous hand, could not but make those of the Magyars who were ignorant of Turkish imagine that the Grand Vizier was atrociously scolding them, and that what he said was nothing but the vilest abuse from beginning to end.

Mr. Ladislaus Csaky, who was standing beside Paul Béldi, plucked his fur mantle and whispered in his ear with a tremulous voice:

"You have ruined us. Why did you not speak more humbly? He is going to impale the whole lot of us."

The Vizier, as usual, concluded his speech with a weary smile, drew back his mocking lips, and exposed his black, stumpy teeth. The heart's blood of the Magyars began to grow cold at that smile.

Then Maurocordato came forward. A gentle smile of encouragement illumined his noble features, and he began to interpret the words of the Grand Vizier: "Worshipful Magyars, be of good cheer. I have compassion on your petition, your righteousness stands before us brighter than the noonday sun, your griefs shall have the fullest remedy. Ye did well to supplicate the garment of the Sublime Sultan; cling fast to the folds of it, and no harm shall befall you. Now depart in peace; if we should require you again, we will send for you."

Everyone breathed more easily. Béldi thanked the Vizier in a few simple sentences, and they prepared to withdraw.

But Ladislaus Csaky, who was much more interested in his Sóva property than in the future of Transylvania, and to whom Béldi's petition, which only sought the salvation of the fatherland, and said nothing about the restitution of confiscated estates, appeared inadequate, scarce waited for his turn to speak, and, what is more, threw himself at the feet of the Vizier, seized one of them, which he embraced, and began to weep tremendously. Indeed, his words were almost unintelligible for his weeping, and Mr. Csaky's oratory was always difficult to understand at the best of times, so that it was no wonder that the Grand Vizier lost his usual phlegm and now began to curse and swear in real earnest; till the other Magyar gentlemen rushed up, tore Csaky away by force, while Maurocordato angrily pushed them all out, and thus put an end to the scandalous scene.

"If you kneel before a man," said Béldi, walking beside him, "at least do not weep like a child."

Before Béldi could reach the door he felt his hand warmly pressed by another hand. He looked in that direction, and there stood Feriz.

"Did you say that your wife was a captive?" asked the youth with an uncertain voice.

"And my child also."

The face of Feriz flushed.

"I will release them," he said impetuously. Béldi seized his hand. "Wait for me at the entrance."

The Hungarian refugees withdrew, everyone of them weaving for himself fresh hopes from the assurances of the Vizier. Only Ladislaus was not content with the result, and going to his quarters he immediately sat down and wrote two letters, one to the general of the Kaiser, and the other to the minister of the King of France, to both of whom he promised everything they could desire if they would help forward his private affairs, thinking to himself if the Sultan does not help me the Kaiser will, and if both fail me I can fall back upon the French King; at any rate a man ought to make himself safe all round.

Scarce had the refugees quitted the Diván when an Aga entered the audience-chamber and announced:

"The Magyar lords."

"What Magyar lords?" cried the Grand Vizier.

"Those whom the Prince has sent."

"They're in good time!" said the Vizier, "show them in;" and he at once fell into a proper pose, reserving for them his most venomous expression.

The curtains were parted, and the Prince's embassy appeared, bedizened courtly folks in velvet with amiable, simpering faces. Their spokesman, Farkas Bethlen, stood in the very place where Paul Béldi had stood an hour before, in a velvet mantle trimmed with swan's-down, a bejewelled girdle worthy of a hero, and a sword studded with turquoises, the magnificence of his appointments oddly contrasting with his look of abject humility.

"Well! what do ye want? Out with it quickly!" snapped the Grand Vizier, with an ominous air of impatience.

Farkas Bethlen bent his head to his very knees, and then he began to orate in the roundabout rhetoric of those days, touching upon everything imaginable except the case in point.

"Most gracious and mighty, glorious and victorious Lords, dignified Grand Vizier, unconquerable Pashas, mighty Begs and Agas, most potent pillars of the State, lords of the three worlds, famous and widely-known heroes by land and sea, my peculiarly benevolent Lords!"

All this was merely prefatory!

Kiuprile began to perspire; Kucsuk Pasha twirled his sword upon his knee; Feriz Beg turned round and contemplated the fountains of the Seraglio through the window.

"Make haste, do!" interrupted Maurocordato impatiently; whereupon Farkas Bethlen, imagining that he had offended the interpreter by omitting him from the exordium, turned towards him with a supplementary compliment:

"Great and wise interpreter, most learned and extraordinarily to be respected court physician of the most mighty Sultan!"

Kiuprile yawned so tremendously that the girdle round his big body burst in two.

Farkas Bethlen, however, did not let himself be put out in the least, but continued his oration.

"Our worthy Prince, his Highness Michael Apafi, has been much distressed to learn that those seditious rebels who have dared to raise their evil heads, not only against the Prince but against the Sublime Porte also, as represented in his person, in consequence of the frustration of their plans, have fled hither to damage the Prince by their falsehoods and insinuations. Nevertheless, although our worthy Prince is persuaded that the wisdom of your Excellencies must needs confute their lying words, your goodwill confound their devices, and your omnipotence chastise their audacity, nevertheless it hath also seemed good to his Highness to send us to your Excellencies in order that we may refute all these complaints and accusations whereby they would falsely, treacherously and abominably disturb the realm ..."

Maurocordato here took advantage of a pause made by the orator to take breath after this exordium, and before he was able to proceed to the subject-matter of his address, began straightway to interpret what he had said so far for the benefit of the Grand Vizier, being well aware that the Vizier would not allow anyone to speak a second time before he had spoken himself.

The speech of the interpreter was this time dry and monotonous. All Farkas Bethlen's homiletical energy was thrown away in Maurocordato's drawling, indifferent reproduction.

The Grand Vizier replied with flashing eyes, his face was twice as venomous as it had been before, and his gestures plainly indicated an intention to show the envoys the door.

Maurocordato interpreted his reply.

"The Grand Vizier says that not those whom ye persecute but you yourselves are the rebels who have broken the oath ye made to the Sublime Porte, inasmuch as your ambitious projects aim at the separation of Transylvania from its dependence on the Porte and at the conquest of Hungary—both sure ways of destruction for yourselves. Wherefore the Grand Vizier gives you to understand that if you cannot sit still and live in peace with your own fellow-countrymen, he will send to you an intermediary, who will leave naught but tears behind him."

The Hungarian gentlemen regarded each other in astonishment. Not a trace of simpering amiability remained on the face of Farkas Bethlen, who was furious at the failure of the speech he had so carefully learnt by heart. He bowed still deeper than before, and sacrificing with extraordinary self-denial the remainder of his oration, especially as he perceived that any further parleying would not be permitted, he had resort to more drastic expedients.

"Oh, sir! how can such accusations affect us who have always been willing faithfully to fulfil your wishes? We pay tribute, we give gifts, and now also our worthy Prince hath not sent us to you empty-handed, having commanded Master Michael Teleki not to neglect to provide us with suitable gifts, who has, moreover, sent to your Excellencies through me two hundred purses of money,20 as a token of his respect and homage, beseeching your Excellencies to accept this little gift from us your humble servants."

With these words the orator beckoned to one of the deputation, at whose summons, four porters appeared carrying between them, suspended on two poles, a large iron chest, which Farkas Bethlen opened, discharging its contents at the feet of the Grand Vizier.

The jingling thalers fell in heaps around the Diván, and the sound of the rolling coins filled the room. The features of the Grand Vizier suddenly changed. Maurocordato stepped back. Bethlen's last words had needed no interpreter; the Vizier could not keep back from his face a hideous smile, the grin of the devil of covetousness. His eyes grew large and round, he no longer clenched his teeth together, he was rather like a wild beast eager to pounce upon his prey.

Farkas Bethlen humbly withdrew among his colleagues; the Vizier could not resist the temptation, he descended from the Diván, rubbing his hands, tapping the shoulders of the last speaker, smiling at all the deputies, and even going so far as to extend his hand to one or two of them, which those fortunate beings hastened to kiss, and spoke something to them in Turkish, to which they felt bound to reply with profound obeisances.

During this scene Maurocordato had quitted the Diván, and as in default of an interpreter the envoys were unable to understand the words of the Vizier, and could only bow repeatedly, Kiuprile, who had learnt Hungarian while he was Pasha of Eger, arose and roared at them in a voice which made the very ceiling shake:

"The Vizier bids you go to hell, ye dogs of Giaours, and if we want you again we will send for you!" Whereupon he gave a vicious kick at a thaler which had rolled to his feet, while the deputies, after innumerable salutations, left the Diván.

On the departure of the Prince's envoys, the Grand Vizier immediately sent for Béldi and his comrades. When the refugees entered the Diván, not one of them yet knew that the envoys of the Prince had been there and brought the money which they saw piled up before them, though they could not for the life of them understand what the Grand Vizier and themselves had to do with all that money; and inasmuch as Maurocordato had also departed, and the cavasses sent after him could not find him anywhere, the Hungarians, in the absence of an interpreter, stood there for some time in the utmost doubt, striving to explain as best they could the signification of the peculiar signs which the Grand Vizier kept making to them from time to time, pointing now at the heaps of money and now at them, and expounding his sayings with all ten fingers. Every time he glanced at the money he could not restrain his disgusting, hyæna-like smile.

"Don't you see," whispered Csaky to Béldi, "the Grand Vizier intends all that money for us?"

Béldi could not help smiling at this artless opinion.

At last, as the interpreter did not come, Kiuprile was constrained, very much against the grain, to arise and interpret the wishes of the Grand Vizier as best he could.

"Worthy sirs, this is what the Grand Vizier says to you. The Prince's deputies have been here. They ought to have their necks broken—that's what I say. They brought with them this sum of money, and they said all sorts of things which are not true, but the money which they brought is true enough. Having regard to which the Grand Vizier says to you that he recognises the justice of your cause and approves of it, but the mere recognition of its justice will make no difference to it, for it will remain just what it was before. But if you would make your righteous cause progress and succeed, promise him seventy more purses than those of the Prince's envoys, and then we will close with you. We will then fling them into the Bosphorus sewn up in sacks, but you we will bring back into your own land and make you the lords of it."

A bitter smile crossed the lips of Paul Béldi, he sighed sorrowfully, and looked back upon his comrades.

"You know right well, sir," said he to Kiuprile, "that we have no money, nor do I know from whence to get as much as you require, and my colleagues are as poor as I am. We never used the property of the State as a means of collecting treasures for ourselves, and what little remained to us from our ancestors has already been divided among the servants of the Prince. We have no money wherewith to buy us justice, and if there be no other mode of saving our country, then in God's name dismiss us and we will throw ourselves at the feet of some foreign Prince, and supplicate till we find one who must listen to us. God be with you; money we have none."

"Then I have!" cried a voice close beside Béldi; and, looking in that direction, they saw Kucsuk Pasha approach Paul Béldi and warmly press the right hand of the downcast Hungarian gentleman. "If you want two hundred and seventy purses I will give it; if you want as much again I will give it; as much as you want you shall have; bargain with them, fix your price; I am here. I will pay instead of you."

Feriz Beg rushed towards his father, and, full of emotion, hid his face in his bosom. Béldi majestically clasped the hand of the old hero, and was scarce able to find words to express his gratitude at this offer.

"I thank you, a thousand times I thank you, but I cannot accept it; that would be a debt I should never be able to repay, nor my descendants after me. Blessed are you for your good will, but you cannot help me that way."

Kiuprile intervened impatiently.

"Be sensible, Paul Béldi, and draw not upon thee my anger; weigh well thy words, and hearken to good counsel. To demand so much money from thee as a private man in exile would be a great folly, but assume that thou art a Prince, and that this amount, which it would be impossible to drag out of one pocket, could easily be distributed over a whole kingdom and not be felt. Do no more then than promise us the amount; it is not necessary that thou shouldst pay us before we have made thee Prince."

Béldi shuddered, and said to Kiuprile with a quavering voice:

"I do not understand you, sir, or else I have not heard properly what you said."

"Then understand me once for all. If it be true what thou sayest—to wit, that the present Prince of Transylvania rules amiss, why then, depose him from his Principality; and if it also be true what thou sayest—to wit, that thou dost love thy country so much and seest what ought to be done—why then, defend it thyself. I will send a message to the frontier Pashas, and they will immediately declare war upon this state, seize Master Michael Apafi and all his counsellors, clap them into the fortress of Jedikula, and put thee and thy comrades in their places. Thou art only to promise the Grand Vizier two hundred and seventy purses, and he will engage to make thee Prince as soon as possible, and then thou wilt be able to pay it; which, if thou dost refuse, of a truth I tell thee, that I will clap thee into Jedikula in the place of Michael Apafi."

The heart of Paul Béldi beat violently throughout this speech. His emotion was visible in his face, and more than once he would have interrupted Kiuprile if the Hungarian gentlemen had not restrained him. When, however, Kiuprile had finished his speech. Paul Béldi took a step forward, and proudly raising his head so that he seemed to be taller than usual, he replied in a firm, strong voice:

"I thank you, gracious sir, for your offer, but I cannot accept it. A sacred oath binds me to the present Prince of Transylvania, and if he has forgotten the oath which he swore to the nation it is no answer to say that we should also violate ours, nay, rather should we remind him of his. I have raised my head to ask for justice, not to pile one injustice upon another. Transylvania needs not a new Prince, but its old liberties; and if I had only wanted to make war upon the Prince, the country would rise at a sign from me, the whole of the Szeklers would draw their swords for me, but it was I who made them sheath their swords again. I do not come to the Porte for vengeance, but for judgment; not my own fate, but the fate of my country I submit to your Excellencies. I do not want the office of Prince. I do not want to drive out one usurper only to bring in a hundred more. I will not set all Transylvania in a blaze for the sake of roasting Master Michael Teleki, nor for the sake of freeing a dozen people from a shameful dungeon will I have ten thousand dragged into captivity. May I suffer injustice rather than all Transylvania. Accursed should I be, and all my posterity with me, if I were to sell my oppressed nation for a few pence and bring armies against my native land. As to your threats—I am prepared for anything, for prison, for death. I came to you for justice, slay me if you will."

Kiuprile, disgusted, flung himself back on his divan; he did not count upon such opposition, he was not prepared for such strength of mind. The other gentlemen who, from time to time, had fled to the Porte from Transylvania had been wont to beg and pray for the very favour which this man so nobly rejected.

The Grand Vizier, perceiving from the faces of those present the impression made on them by Béldi's speech, turned now to the right and now to the left for an explanation, and dismay gradually spread over his pallid face as he began to understand. Béldi's colleagues, pale and utterly crushed, awaited the result of his alarming reply; while Ladislaus Csaky, unable to restrain his dismay, rushed up to Béldi, flung himself on his neck in his despair, and implored him by heaven and earth to accept the offer of the Grand Vizier.

If the offer had been made to him he would most certainly have accepted it.

"Never, never," replied Béldi, as cold as marble.

The other gentlemen knelt down before him, and with clasped hands besought him not to make himself, his children, and themselves for ever miserable.

"Arise, I am not God!" said Béldi, turning from his tearful colleagues.

The Grand Vizier, on understanding what it was all about, leaped furiously from his place, and tearing off his turban, hurled it in uncontrollable rage to the ground, exclaiming with foaming mouth: "Hither, cavasses!"

"Put that accursed dog in chains!" he screeched, pointing with bloodshot eyes at Béldi, who quietly permitted them to load him with fetters weighing half-a-hundredweight each, which the army of slaves always had in readiness.

"Wouldst thou speak, puppy of a giaour?" cried the Vizier, when he was already chained.

"What I have said I stand to," solemnly replied the patriot, raising his chained hand to Heaven. "God is my refuge."

"To the dungeon with him!" yelled Kara Mustafa, beckoning to the drabants to drag Béldi away.

Just as a hard stone emits sparks when it is struck, so Béldi turned suddenly upon the Vizier and said, shaking his chains, "Thine hour will also strike!"

Then he suffered them to lead him away to prison.

Immediately afterwards, the Grand Vizier sent for the envoys of the Prince, and commending them and those who sent them, gave each of them a new caftan, and with the most gracious assurances sent them back to their native land, where nevertheless Master Farkas Bethlen had never been accounted a very great orator.

In the gates of the Seraglio the dismissed envoys encountered Master Ladislaus Csaky. The worthy gentleman at once perceived from their self-satisfied smiles and the new caftans they were wearing that they had been sent away with a favourable reply; whereupon, notwithstanding that he had already agreed with Paul Béldi to render homage to the French and German Ministers, he did not consider it superfluous to pay his court to Master Farkas Bethlen also, and offer to surrender himself body and soul if the Prince would agree to pardon him and restore his estates.

Farkas Bethlen accepted the proposal and not only promised Csaky an amnesty, but high office to boot if he would separate from Béldi; nay, he rewarded on the spot that gentleman who had thus very wisely fastened the threads of his fate to four several places at the same time, so that if one of them broke he could still hold on to the other three.

"Béldi has ruined his affairs utterly," said Kucsuk Pasha to his son, as they retired from the Diván; "I give up every idea of saving him."

"I don't," sighed Feriz. "I'll either save or perish with him."

"Let us go to Maurocordato, he may perhaps advise us."

After an hour's interview with Maurocordato, Feriz Beg, with fifty armed Albanian horsemen, took the road towards Grosswardein.

CHAPTER XXIII.
THE TURKISH DEATH.

"A truce to this piety, Zülfikar; ye renegades, with unendurable shamelessness, are always glorifying the Prophet, born Turks don't mention him half as much. What I ask thee is, where dost thou go a-plundering now of nights?"

"I thank thee, gracious sir," answered Zülfikar, making a wooden picture of his face, "my wife is quite well, and there is nothing amiss with me either."

"Zülfikar, I value in thee that peculiarity of thine which enables thee to become deaf whenever thou desirest it, but I possess a very good remedy for that evil, and if thou wilt I will cure thee of it."

Zülfikar dodged the lance which was turned in his direction, and said with a Pharisaical air:

"What does your honour deign to inquire of me?"

"Didst thou hear what I said to thee just now?"

"Dost thou mean: where I went robbing? I swear by the beard of the Prophet that I go nowhither for such a purpose."

"I know very well, thou cat, that thou goest nowhither where there is trouble, but thou dost ferret out where a fat booty lies hidden, and thou leadest our Spahis on the track of it, wherefore they give thee also a portion of it; so answer me at once whom thou art wont to visit at night, as otherwise I shall open a hole in thy head."

"But, sir, betray me not; for the Spahis would tie me to a horse's tail and the Pasha would impale me. Thou knowest that he does not allow robbery, but if it happens he looks through his fingers."

"So far from betraying thee I would go with thee, I only know one mode of getting hold of booty. While the others storm a village, I stand a little distance off at the farther end of the village; whoever has anything to save always makes for the farther end of the village, and so falls into my hands."

The renegade began to feel in his element.

"My good sir, at night the Spahis will go to Élesd. There dwell rich Wallachians away from the high road. They have never had blackmail levied on them and there's lots of gold and silver there; if we get a good haul, do not betray me."

"But may we not fall in with the soldiers of Ladislaus Székely?"

"Nay, sir," said Zülfikar, winking his eyes, "they are far from here. Do not betray thy faithful servant."

Feriz Beg put spurs to his horse and galloped off. Zülfikar sat down in the gate again, very sleepily blinking his eyes, and smiling mysteriously.

Towards evening four-and-twenty Spahis crept out of the fortress and made off in the direction of Élesd. Feriz Beg kept an eye upon them, and when they had disappeared in the woods he aroused his Albanian horsemen and quietly went after them.

It was past midnight when Feriz Beg and his company reached the hillside covering Élesd. The Spahis had already plundered the place as was evident from the distant uproar, the loud shrieks, the pealing of bells, and a couple of flaming haystacks which the mauraders had set on fire to assist their operations.

Feriz Beg posted his Albanian horsemen at the mouth of a narrow pass, divided them into four bands and ordered them all to remain as quiet as possible and wait patiently till the Spahis returned.

After some hours of plundering the distant tumult died away, and instead of it could be heard approaching a sound of loud wrangling. Presently, in the deep valley below, the Spahis became visible, staggering under the stolen goods, dispersed into twos and threes and quarrelling together over their booty.

Feriz Beg let them come into the narrow pass and when they were quite unsuspiciously at the height of their dispute, he suddenly blew his horn and then suddenly fell upon them from all sides with his Albanian horsemen, surrounded and attacked the marauders, and before they had had time to use their weapons began to cut them down. The tussle was a short one. Not one of the Albanians fell, not one of the Spahis escaped.

Feriz dried his sword and leaving the dead Spahis on the road, galloped back with his band to Grosswardein.

In the Pasha's gate he again encountered Zülfikar and, shaking his fist at him, dismounted from his horse.

"Thou dog! thou hast betrayed us to Ladislaus Székely; the Spahis have all been cut down."

Zülfikar turned yellow with fear. It is true that he usually did something like this: when the Spahis would only promise him a small portion of the booty, he would for a few ducats extra let the Hungarian generals know of their coming, when one or two of them would bite the dust and the rest return without the booty. Last night also he had told the captain of Klausenberg of this particular adventure, but the commandant had been unable to make any use of it, for it had been the Prince's birthday, and he had been obliged to treat the soldiers.

Zülfikar felt a lump in his throat when he heard that all twenty-four of the Spahis had perished, and he immediately quitted the fortress and made his way to Klausenberg through the woods as hard as he could pelt.

Feriz Beg, however, in great wrath, paid a visit upon the Pasha.

"Your Excellency," said he, assuming a very severe countenance, "this is the sort of allies we have. Last night I went on an excursion, taking four-and-twenty Spahis with me, in order to purchase horses for myself in the neighbourhood. We dealt honourably with the dealers. I entrusted the horses to the Spahis and myself galloped on in front. In a narrow pass the soldiers of Ladislaus Székely laid an ambush for the Spahis, surrounded them and cut them off to a man. When I came to their assistance there they were all lying slain and the slayers had trotted off on my own good steeds. Most gracious sir, that is treachery, our own allies do us a mischief. I will not put up with it, but if thou dost not give me complete satisfaction, I will go myself to Klausenberg and put every one of them to the sword, from Master Michael Apafi down to Master Ladislaus Székely."

Ajas Pasha, whose special favourite Feriz Beg was, laughed loudly at this demonstration, patted the youth's cheek, and said in a consolatory voice:

"Nay, my dear son, do not so, nor waste the fire of thy enthusiasm upon these infidels. I have a short method of doing these things—leave it to me."

And thereupon he sent for an aga, and gave him a command in the following terms:

"Sit on thy horse and go quickly to Klausenberg. There go to the commandant, Ladislaus Székely, and speak to him thus: Ajas Pasha wishes thee good-day, thou unbelieving giaour, and sends thee this message: Inasmuch as thy dog-headed servants during the night last past have treacherously fallen upon the men of Feriz Beg and cut down four-and-twenty of them, now therefore I require of thee to search for and send me instantly these murderers, otherwise the whole weight of my wrath shall descend upon thine own head. Moreover, in the place of the horses stolen from him, see that thou send to me without delay just as many good chargers of Wallachia, and beware lest I come for them myself, for then thou wilt have no cause to thank me."

When the aga had learnt the message by heart he withdrew, and Ajas Pasha turned to Feriz Beg complacently:

"Trouble not thyself further," said he, "in a couple of days the murderers will be here."

"I want the Prince to intercede for them himself," said Feriz Beg.

"And dost thou not believe then that the little finger of the Sublime Porte is able to give thee the lives of a few giaour hirelings, when it sends forth thousands to perish on the battle-field?"

"And I will venture to bet a hundred ducats that Master Ladislaus Székely will reply that his soldiers were not out of the fortress at all last night."

"I am sorry for thy hundred ducats, my dear son, but I will take thy bet all the same; and, if I lose, I will cut just as many pieces out of the skin of Master Ladislaus Székely."

The terrified Zülfikar was almost at his last gasp by the time he reached the courtyard of Master Ladislaus Székely, where, greatly exhausted, he obtained an audience of the commandant, who was resplendent in a great mantle trimmed with galloon and adorned with rubies and emeralds. This love of display was the good old gentleman's weak point. He had the most beautiful collection of precious stones in all Transylvania; the nearest way to his heart was to present him with a rare and beautiful jewel.

He was engaged in furbishing up a necklace of chrysoprases and jacinths with a hare's foot when the renegade breathlessly rushed through the door unable to utter a word for sheer weariness. Ladislaus Székely fancied that Zülfikar had come for the reward of his treachery, and very bluntly hastened to anticipate him.

"I was unable to make any use of your information, Zülfikar; it was the Prince's name-day, and the soldiers were not at liberty to leave the town."

"How can your honour say so," stuttered Zülfikar; "you had four-and-twenty Spahis cut down at Élesd. What fool told your honour to kill them? You should merely have deprived them of their booty."

Ladislaus Székely let fall his necklace in his fright and gazed at the renegade with big round eyes.

"Don't be a fool, Zülfikar, my son! Not a soul was outside this fortress to-day or yesterday."

"Your honour has been well taught what to say," said the renegade, with the insolence of fury; "you put on as innocent a face over the business as a new-born lamb."

"I swear to you I don't understand a word of your nonsense."

"Of course, of course! Capital! Excellent! But your honour would do well to keep these falsehoods for the messengers of Ajas Pasha, who will be with your honour immediately; try and fool them if you like, but don't fool me."

Ladislaus Székely, well aware that every word he said was the sacred truth, fancied that Zülfikar's assertion was only a rough joke which he wanted to play upon him, so he cast an angry look on the renegade.

"Be off, my son Zülfikar, and cease joking; or I'll beat you about the head with this hare's foot till I knock all the moonshine out of you."

"Your honour had best keep your hare's foot to yourself, for if I draw my Turkish dagger I'll make you carry your own head."

"Be off, be off, my son!" cried Székely, looking around for a stick, and perceiving a cane in the corner with a large silver knob he seized it. "And now are you going, or I shall come to you?" he added.

Zülfikar had just caught sight, meanwhile, through the window of the aga sent by Ajas Pasha, and fearing to encounter him, hastily skipped through the door, which sudden flight was attributed by Master Ladislaus Székely to his own threats of violence. He followed close upon the heels of the fugitive, and ran almost into the very arms of the aga; whereupon, the aga, also flying into a rage, belaboured the commandant with his fists, reviled his father, his mother, and his remotest ancestry, and only after that began to deliver the message of Ajas Pasha, which he enlarged and embellished with the choicest flowers of an angry man's rhetoric.

At these words Ladislaus Székely changed colour as often as a genuine opal, or as a fractured polyporus fungus. It was clear to him that someone or other had just slain a number of marauding Spahis, but he knew very well that neither he nor his men had performed this heroic deed, for that particular evening they had all been safe and sound at ten o'clock, and yet he was expected to pay the piper!

"Gracious sir, unconquerable aga," he said at last, "my men the whole of that evening were on duty beneath the windows of the Prince, and the same evening I myself closed the city gates, so that no living thing except a bird could get out. Therefore, I pray you ask not of me the slayers of the Spahis, for never in my life have I killed one of them."

The aga gnashed his teeth, and stared wildly about, as if seeking for big words worthy of the occasion.

"Darest thou say such things to me, thou wine-drinking infidel?" he cried at last. "I know very well that thou, single-handed, hast not cut down four-and-twenty Spahis; rather do I believe there were two thousand of you that fell upon them, but these thou must give up to me, every man-jack of them."

Large drops of perspiration began to ooze out upon the forehead of the commandant, and in his embarrassment it occurred to him that deeds were better than words, so he seized the chain covered with chrysoprases and jacinths, which he had just been polishing, and handed them in a deprecating manner to the Turk, knowing that such a line of defence was most likely to obtain a hearing.

But the envoy gave the chain handed to him such a kick that the precious stones were scattered all over the deal boards, and, trampling them beneath his feet, he roared with a blood-red face:

"I want the murderers, not your precious stones."

The commandant thereupon seeing that the aga's embassy was really a serious matter, took him down to the soldiers, who were drawn up in the courtyard, in order to ask each one of them in the hearing of the envoy: "Where were you during the night in question?" Naturally everyone of them was able to prove an alibi, not one of them could be suspected.

The aga very nearly had an overflow of gall. He said nothing, he only rolled his eyes; and when the last soldier had denied any share in the death of the Turks, he leaped upon his horse, and threatening them with his fist, growled through his gnashing teeth:

"Wait, ye also shall have your St. Demetrius' day!"21 and with that he galloped back to Grosswardein.