This fulsome piece of flattery seemed to somewhat annoy Apafi; but as he could not quite make up his mind to kick the impertinent poet out of the tent, he resolved to be quit of him with a handful of ducats, and placed the genealogical tree behind him by way of a prop.
Nevertheless the Prince’s good-humour was not in the least disturbed. He seemed to feel it his bounden duty to treat everyone who approached him with peculiar graciousness and condescension, and after listening patiently to the last of his many petitioners, he turned to Messrs. Nalaczi and Daczo, who stood by his side, and said—
“Is there absolutely nothing I can do for you? How shall I requite the fidelity with which you have stood by me from the very first?”
Nalaczi and Daczo had long been racking their brains as to what they should ask of the Prince. Their chief anxiety was lest they should ask too little.
“I leave the reward of my poor services to the benevolence of your Highness,” said Nalaczi: but he thought within himself that the Szeklers needed another Captain-General in the place of Beldi.
“The little I have been fortunate enough to do for your Highness is, in my opinion, not even worth mentioning,” declared Daczo; but it did occur to him at the same time that the post of Governor of Klausenburg, vacant by the flight of Banfi, was just the very thing for him.
Apafi looked at them benignly, and no doubt would have created both these worthy but not particularly capable gentlemen privy-counsellors at the very least, when, unfortunately for them, a hubbub outside here interrupted the conversation, and the bodyguards, drawing aside the curtains of the tent, admitted Kucsuk Pasha.
The Prince sprang from his seat at once, and would have gone to meet him, had not Stephen Apafi pulled him by the mantle and whispered in his ear—
“Keep up your dignity in the presence of the Turk. He is only a subaltern Pasha, while you are the sovereign Prince of Transylvania.”
Despite this admonition Apafi did not feel quite at his ease till Kucsuk had beckoned to him to be seated, and although the Turk remained standing in the presence of the Prince, there was this difference between them, that whereas Apafi’s face expressed nothing but affability and condescension, Kucsuk’s was all haughtiness and dignity.
“How can I show my gratitude for the labours and perils you have undergone on my behalf?” asked Apafi with genuine enthusiasm.
“Not to me but to my imperial master are thy thanks due,” replied Kucsuk dryly. “I did but do his will when I set thee on the throne of Transylvania. With God’s help I have scattered thy enemies, only a fortress here and there still holds out. I shall have done my whole duty when I have captured them; the rest lies with thee. Tomorrow I shall besiege Klausenburg, and, cost what it may, I shall not rest till the town is taken. When that has fallen the others will follow of their own accord.”
“Should I not also call out the provincial banderia?”16 inquired Apafi.
“I need them not,” replied Kucsuk; “let them remain at home and look after their own affairs. My own troops will do everything.”
Apafi was about to thank the Pasha for his magnanimity, when suddenly he became aware that everyone was looking towards one of the side-entrances of the tent, through which someone had just entered without being announced.
The Prince also looked round in the same direction, and what he then saw before him made him forget instantly Transylvania, Kucsuk Pasha, Klausenburg, and everything else, for before him stood his beautiful and majestic consort, Anna Bornemissa.
It was indeed a queenly apparition.
That commanding countenance, which seemed to exact homage, how affably yet how proudly it could glance around! In her dress there was no trace of pomp; but was there any need of gems where such speaking eyes flashed and sparkled? Did that royal form require velvet or ermine to lend it majesty?
It was the first time that Apafi had seen her since his departure. She had risen from her childbed twice as lovely as before. Renewed happiness and comfort had invested her features with a sort of transparent brightness. Her eyes, dimmed no longer by tears of sorrow, flashed with a purer radiance than before. Her lips, which had long known nought but joy, smiled still more sweetly. Her figure had gained in fullness and roundness without losing in symmetry, and the confident, self-conscious dignity visible in all her features and all her movements well became her majestic form.
Apafi, forgetting all dignity and decorum when he saw his consort, sprang from his seat, rushed towards her, seized her hand, drew the enchanting lady to his breast, just as he used to do when he was a simple squire, and kissed her mouth and cheeks so heartily that the assembled Estates of the Realm had auricular demonstration of the fact.
Anna nestled closely to her husband’s breast, and her lips tenderly returned his salutations; but her large, earnest eyes seemed to be scrutinizing over her husband’s shoulder the faces of all who were present, and her gaze rested for
