Beldi’s face grew dark as he read this letter. So it was all in vain that he had driven Banfi’s name out of his head. This letter conjured up that odious form once more before his eyes.
He folded up the parchment and gave the grave youth a brief answer to take back with him—
“Let your father know that we will take the necessary steps to avert the threatened evil, and thank him heartily for his warning.”
Feriz Beg immediately quitted Bodola Castle. Beldi remained alone in his room, pacing to and fro in a brown study, and racking his brains to find a way out of the danger. He could find none. It was not to be expected that Banfi’s pride would yield to the Pasha, especially after a brilliant victory and in a just cause; and yet the welfare of the land required the sacrifice of the just cause.
Brooding thus, he did not notice that somebody was tapping at his door, who after thrice knocking and receiving no answer, opened it, and as Beldi suddenly came to himself and looked around him with a start, he perceived Michael Teleki standing before him. So amazed was Beldi by this apparition, that for the moment the power of speech forsook him.
“You appear surprised,” said Teleki, observing his amazement. “You are astonished that I should travel such a long way to see you, after parting from you only twenty-four hours ago. But great events have taken place in the meantime. Transylvania is threatened by a danger which must be averted as quickly as possible.”
“I know it,” replied Beldi, and putting his hand over the signature, he let Teleki read Kucsuk’s letter.
“Great heaven!” exclaimed the minister. “You know more than I did. But what I want to say on this matter is a secret which the very walls around us may not hear.”
“I understand,” replied Beldi, and immediately commanded his heydukes to admit no one into the vestibules; placed guards in front of the windows, and drew the curtains down to the ground. There now only remained a little tapestried door, at the back of the room, which led through a narrow corridor to his wife’s bedchamber, an arrangement very common, at that time, in the mansions of Hungarian magnates. By way of additional precaution Beldi closed this door also.
“Does your Excellency feel secure enough now?” asked Beldi.
“One thing more. Give me your word of honour that if what I am about to disclose does not meet with your approbation, you will at least keep it secret.”
“I promise,” returned Beldi, impatiently awaiting the dénouement of all this mystery.
Teleki thereupon drew forth a long strip of parchment, unfolded it, and held it before Beldi’s eyes, without however letting it out of his hands.
It was the league against Banfi, signed and sealed by the Prince.
The more Beldi read of this document, the blacker grew his looks, till at last, turning his face away, he pushed the document aside with an expression of deep disgust.
“Sir,” said he, “ ’tis a dirty piece of work!”
Teleki was prepared for some such answer, and summoned to his aid all the sophistry of which he was so perfect a master.
“Beldi!” cried he, “we must, for once, put aside all narrow-minded sentiment. Here it is a question of the end and not of the means. The means may seem bad, but we really have no other. Whenever a subject becomes so powerful in a state that the arm of the law is no longer able to bring him to justice, then I say he has only himself to blame if the state is compelled to conspire against him. He whom the axe of the executioner cannot reach, must fall beneath the dagger of the bravo. Denis Banfi, by despising the Prince’s commands and waging war on his own account, has placed himself outside the law. In such a case, where the ordinary tribunals become inoperative, we must of course have resort to secret tribunals. If anyone injures me, and the law can give me no remedy, I make use of my own weapons, and shoot him down wherever I meet him. If the country is injured by anyone whom it cannot punish, it must fall back upon the jus ligatum, and lay hands upon him whenever and wherever it can. The commonweal requires, the common danger compels such a step.”
“We are in the hands of God!” replied Beldi. “If ’tis His will to destroy the fatherland, we can only bow the head and die in defence of our freedom with a good conscience. But never ought we to lift our hands against the liberties we have inherited from our forefathers. Rather let us endure the wrongs which spring from those liberties, than lay the axe to the root of them ourselves! Rather let war and strife burst over the land, than conspire against the laws! That may cost the nation its blood; but this will destroy its very soul. I disapprove of this league, and, sir, I mean to oppose it!”
At these words Michael Teleki rose from his seat, sank down upon his knees before Beldi, raised his hands to heaven, and cried—
“I swear by the living God, that as I hope for my own and my family’s protection and happiness here and for salvation hereafter, that what I now do, I do as your loyal friend, well knowing that all Banfi’s efforts aim at the ruin of your house, and I solemnly adjure you, as you love your life and the lives of your wife and children, to avert the impending danger by signing the league. I have now done all in my power to save you and my country, and that too at my own risk and peril. I have no other object. Before God I lie not!”
Beldi turned with calm dignity towards the minister, and said, in a tone of immovable conviction—
“Fiat justitia, pereat mundus!”
A few moments after Teleki’s arrival at Bodola, a mounted
