Dame Beldi hastily opened the letter and read as follows—
“Dear Sister—
“Michael Teleki has set out for Bodola to see your husband. His aim is to secretly ruin Banfi by the hand of Beldi. The magnates have conspired together to break the law. Fortunately, every one of them has a wife, and in the hearts of our women the better feelings of human nature are not yet extinguished. I have charged each one of them to preserve their husbands from Teleki’s wiles; but ’tis to you that I chiefly look for help. Beldi is the most eminent of them all. If he joins the league, the rest will follow his example; but he is also the most honourable of men and the best of husbands. I count upon your firmness. Move heaven and earth!
On reading this letter, Dame Beldi almost swooned.
Teleki had already been closeted with her husband for more than half-an-hour, and the servants had brought word that everyone had been ordered away, even from the passages leading to the room. In an instant she divined everything. Terror seized her. Perhaps it was already too late! But what could she do? Suddenly, the secret corridor occurred to her, which led from her bedroom to her husband’s. Urged by fear, she rapidly traversed the corridor, reached the tapestried door, stood still before it with a beating heart, and listened. She could only hear Teleki, and he was speaking in an unusually excited voice, which rose almost to a scream. She looked through the keyhole, and beheld the minister on his knees before her husband with uplifted hands, endeavouring to move him by solemn oaths.
Such a sight made Dame Beldi perfectly frantic. What must it be that could make a man so proud and so exalted kneel down before Beldi? What is he swearing so vehemently? Suddenly Banfi’s name struck on her ear; she turned pale with horror, and at the same instant she heard Beldi say the words—“Fiat justitia, pereat mundus!” Ignorant as she was of the Latin language, she at once jumped to the conclusion that her husband had yielded, and in her desperation pressed hard upon the door-latch, and finding it immovable, shook the door furiously, exclaiming wildly at the same time—
“My husband! My beloved lord! Lord of my soul! Give no heed to Teleki’s words, for he would ruin you.”
Both the men started at this passionate cry, and Beldi rose from his seat, went to the door, opened it, and cried angrily to his wife—
“Go to your work, woman! You have no business here.”
Then Dame Beldi lost her presence of mind altogether. Fear did not allow her to reflect. The idea that her husband was consenting to Teleki’s schemes rendered her incapable of grasping the situation; and she forgot that the most complaisant of husbands, rather than see his uxoriousness paraded before the world, will do violence to his better nature. So Dame Beldi rushed wildly into the room, sank down at her husband’s feet, convulsively clasped his knees, and cried in a voice of passionate remonstrance—
“Sweet lord of my heart! I adjure you not to believe in that man. Don’t be led away. He would bring down innocent blood upon your head. You are too just and merciful to become a headsman.”
“Get up, woman! You are mad!”
“Oh! I know what I’m saying. I saw him kneel to you. He who believes in God, kneels not to man. He would ruin Denis Banfi through you. Woe betide us if you help him! For if Banfi be the first, you will assuredly be the second.”
When Teleki saw his secret design thus exposed, he grew wroth.
“If my wife were to treat me so,” cried he passionately, “I would tear her eyes out. If anyone came to me with a saving word of friendship on his tongue, I would thank him for it, and not allow my wife to lead me by the nose.”
Beldi turned furiously upon his wife and ordered her out.
“I’ll remain here even if you kill me, for ’tis a matter of life or death. When the peace of my family is at stake, I think ’tis time for me to speak. I beg, I implore you to hear me. I’ll not allow you to sacrifice Banfi.”
Beldi was already so ashamed of this onslaught on his marital authority that he was nearly beside himself; but when his wife began to plead for Banfi, he started back as if an adder had bitten him.
This did not escape Teleki, and with malicious innuendo he exclaimed—
“It seems to me that wives forget some things much sooner than their husbands.”
Quick as lightning the dart pierced through Beldi’s soul. The recollection of that kiss came back to him. Pale and speechless, he seized his wife’s arm; her loud sobs only inflamed his jealousy, and dragging her to the tapestried door, he pushed her out and closed it behind her. There she remained, lying on the threshold, loudly cursing the Prince’s minister, and hammering at the closed door with her fists.
Beldi, pale as death, sat down at the table, gnashed his teeth, and whispered huskily—
“Where’s the document?”
Teleki spread out the parchment roll before him on the table.
Beldi took up his pen without a word, and wrote his name in a bold hand beneath that of Michael Apafi.
A triumphant smile played around Teleki’s lips.
No sooner was the deed done than something in Beldi’s breast began to accuse him. Resting his hand on the document, he turned with a very grave face towards Teleki.
“I expressly stipulate,” he murmured, in a hollow voice, “that if Banfi be arrested, right and justice shall be done to him, according to the law of
