Midst the Wild Carpathians Part 38

"It is no matter for jesting, my lord. That panther has torn a young Wallach to pieces in the sight of several persons, wherefore I sent out Lord Ladislaus Csaky to hunt down the beast and kill it. And Csaky had seen the monster and was hard upon it when you met him in the forest and stopped him."

"Lord Ladislaus Csaky no doubt mistook his own tiger-skin for a panther."

"No gibes, please. The lair of the monster is discovered. Do you understand me now?"

"I understand your Highness. But 'twas a pity to put my lord Csaky to so much inconvenience for such a trifle. So 'twas he then who discovered the pleasure-house which I built over a hot spring among the rocks?

Well, I don't think even such a discovery as that will earn for him the t.i.tle of a Columbus."

"You persist in sneering then? Will nothing make you bow your haughty head? Suppose now I knew the secret of that mysterious cave, what then?"

Banfi began to change colour, and he answered in a low, husky voice, like a man who finds it very difficult not to speak the truth.

"'Tis a very simple matter, sir. It was I who discovered Borvolgy; but as soon as the rumour of the hot spring spread abroad, the public tried to take possession of it. Now, I had also discovered a rich mineral vein beneath the Gradina Dracului, and to prevent it from being appropriated, I had a little private pleasure-house built there among the rocks for the exclusive use of my wife."

By these last words Banfi wished to make the Prince understand that he ought to spare his wife, but they produced exactly the contrary effect.

"Oh, you vile hypocrite!" cried the Prince, starting up and striking the table with his clenched fist. "You would use your wife as a cloak, well knowing all the time that you keep there a Turkish girl on whose account the Sultan is about to ravage the land with fire and sword!"

Lady Banfi uttered a piercing shriek. Her sister whispered in her ear--

"Be strong! Now is the time to show what you are made of."

Banfi furiously bit his lips, but controlled himself with a mighty effort, and answered calmly--

"That is not true, sir! That I deny!"

"What! Not true! There are people who have seen her."

"Who?"

"Clement, the Patrol-officer."

"Clement the poet? Ah! We all know that lying is the masterpiece of poets."

"Very well, my lord baron. As you deny everything, I will try to get to the bottom of the matter myself. I will therefore go in person to the place in question, and if I find confirmation of that whereof you are accused, let me tell you that a threefold punishment awaits you: first, for the rape of the Turkish girl; next, for the violence done to a princely messenger; and thirdly, for adultery. Each one of these deeds is sufficient in itself to hurl you down from your presumptuous height.

My lord Csaky, lead us to this place; and you, my lord Denis Banfi, will in the meantime remain here."

Banfi stood there with a bloodless face, and his feet rooted to the ground.

Meanwhile his wife had risen from her seat, and rallying all her strength with a supreme effort, stepped in front of the Prince and said--

"Sir, pardon my husband! He knows nothing of this thing--the fault is mine--the woman whom you seek turned to me for protection in her hour of need--and--I concealed her in that place--without my husband's knowledge."

Every word she spoke seemed to cost the pale, fragile lady superhuman exertion. Banfi turned very red and cast down his eyes before her. The Princess looked triumphantly at her sister and pressed her hand.

"Well done!" she whispered. "That was indeed n.o.ble and heroic!"

Apafi saw through the magnanimous fraud; but he was determined that Banfi should not escape him that way, so, turning wrathfully upon him, he exclaimed--

"And you permit your wife to commit such indiscretions, which might so easily ruin your family, nay, the realm itself? She must be punished for it, and I therefore request you to reprimand her on the spot!"

Lady Banfi, full of resignation, sank down upon her knees before her guests, and bowed her head like a criminal awaiting punishment.

"It is not my practice to correct my wife in public," murmured Banfi, with an unsteady voice.

"Then I'll do so myself," cried Apafi; and approaching the lady he said--"You deserve, madame, to be sent to jail!"

"That I would not allow, sir!" muttered Banfi between his teeth.

He was now as pale as a corpse. All his blood, all his fire, seemed concentrated in his eyes. All his muscles quivered with shame and rage.

"Gentlemen!" interrupted a sweet, sonorous voice. How soothingly it sounded amidst the rough contention of angry men. It was the voice of the Princess, who stepped between the lady and her accuser. "In former times," she cried reproachfully, "n.o.blemen were ever wont to respect n.o.ble ladies."

"So you are again at hand to defend those whom I attack?" cried the Prince petulantly.

"I am again at hand to prevent your Highness from committing an act of injustice. I have always the _right_ to defend my sister--but it becomes my _duty_ to do so when she is insulted!"

With these words the Princess embraced Margaret, who no sooner felt herself in the embrace of a stronger than herself, than she lost all her artificial strength, and sank senseless into her sister's arms.

Banfi would have hastened to his wife's a.s.sistance, but Dame Apafi waved him back.

"Go!" cried she; "I'll take care of her!"

"Then you mean to remain here?" said the Prince to his consort, in a voice trembling between wrath and compa.s.sion.

"My sister has need of me--and you, I see, can do without me."

Apafi, ever since his wife had begun to speak, had plainly lowered his crest, and fearing lest she might rout him altogether, he hastily quitted the battle-field with a half triumph. He could not fail to be very much discontented with the result of his investigation. He felt that he had wounded Banfi in a sore place, but he also felt that the wound was not mortal. The great n.o.bleman had been affronted rather than humbled. So much the worse for him! What will not bend must be broken.

CHAPTER VI.

THE DIET OF KAROLY-FEHERVaR.

It is the fate of many a town, as of many a nation, to rise from the dead.

One people perishes there. The walls fall to pieces. The name of the town pa.s.ses into oblivion. And again there comes another people, which builds upon the ruins, gives the place a new name; and while the old stones, cast one upon another, seem to bewail the past, the city, radiant with new palaces, rejoices in its youth like a flattered beauty.

The hill on which Transylvania's only fortress stands was once covered with ma.s.sive buildings by Diurban's race. Who now remembers so much as its name? The Roman legions subjected the nation, threw down the shapeless walls, and instead of the altar dedicated to the Blood-G.o.d, and stained with human sacrifices, there arose a temple of Vesta; the wooden palace of the Dacian duke vanished, and the marble halls of the propraetor took its place, with their Corinthian columns, their white mosaic floor, their artistically carved divinities. The place was then called _Colonia Apulensis_.

Again the town grew old, fell down, and died.

A new and mightier race came into it; the former inhabitants were buried beneath the ruins of their palaces and temples, and instead of the propraetor's palace, the gilded and enamelled dwelling of Duke Gyula,[42]

with its skittle-shaped roof, towered up like an enchanted castle from the Thousand and One Nights, and on the ruins of the temple of Vesta the pagan forefathers of the Magyars built altars under the open sky, where they wors.h.i.+pped the sun, the stars, and a naked sword. Then the town was called Gyula-Fehervar.[43]