Banfi had very little time for reflection, nor did he need much. Under cover of the darkness, he rushed swiftly upon the nearest groom, gave him a buffet which brought the blood in streams from his nose and mouth, sprang upon one of the vacant horses, and struck the spurs into its flanks.
The cry of the groom, who had fallen beneath the horse but still held on fast by the bridle, brought up to the spot a crowd of yelling Szeklers. It immediately occurred to Banfi to put his hands into his saddle-pouches, where pistols were sure to be found, and the moment he felt the handles, he as quick as light sent two shots among the crowd which was pressing upon him from all sides, and taking advantage of the consequent hubbub and confusion, spurred his horse fiercely, till it reared and plunged and flew away with him through the garden. The groom still stuck to it like a leech, and allowed himself to be dragged along the ground, till at last his head came into collision with the stump of a tree and he fell back unconscious. Banfi thereupon galloped towards the ditch, and leaped it at a single bold bound; his pursuers, not daring to follow him that way, were obliged to make a long detour to reach the gates, thus giving Banfi a start of several hundred paces. His steed too, scared by the noise of the pursuit, had become half frantic, and Banfi gave him his head, and away they went over stock and stone, up hill and down dale, without aim or purpose.
“Oh, accursed woman!” roared Daczo, threatening Lady Banfi with his fists, when he learnt that Banfi had made his escape. “ ’Tis all through you that Banfi has slipped through our fingers.”
“Oh, Almighty God! I thank Thee!” stammered Margaret, with hands upraised to heaven.
The Szeklers, enraged at having let the husband escape, swung their weapons and rushed upon the wife to murder her.
“Let her die! Her blood be upon her own head!” they roared, with bestial rage.
“Kill me! Death will be welcome to me!” cried Margaret, kneeling down before them. “To die for him was my only wish. God be with me!”
“Be off with you!” cried Kornis, suddenly intervening, beating down the weapons of the Szeklers with his sword, and covering the kneeling lady with his body. “Shame on you! Would you kill a woman? Ye are worse than the Pagan Tartars. If you’ve let Banfi escape, run after him.”
“We’ll kill her! We’ll kill her!” bellowed the Szeklers, and again they attempted to tear Kornis away from the lady.
“Eh! you damned beasts! Who commands here, I should like to know? Am I not your captain?”
“No!” bluntly replied a stiff-necked, bullheaded Szekler, twitching his bulky shoulders to and fro. “Our captain is Nicholas Bethlen, and he is not here.”
“Then go and find him. But let me tell you that whoever does not instantly quit this room shall be beaten into a pulp.”
Still the Szeklers persisted in remaining, and there is no knowing what they might not have done, had not one of the hindermost suddenly exclaimed—
“Let us go to Bonczhida!”
Thereupon all the others fell a-shouting—“To Bonczhida! to Bonczhida!” and they withdrew, cursing horribly, and in the most chaotic confusion.
But Captain Kornis quietly put Lady Banfi into a carriage, and sent her to Bethlen Castle, which then belonged to Paul Beldi, hoping that Banfi would behave with a little more discretion when he heard that his wife was a prisoner.
Meanwhile, the Szekler rabble sent out against Banfi by order of the Prince had arrived at Bonczhida, and on showing the castellan the Prince’s mandate, the gates were opened to them without the slightest contradiction. Daczo only left a portion of his band there, whom he strictly charged to arrest Banfi the moment he appeared, then with the rest he went on to Örmenyes, where Banfi had another castle, to seek him there.
The Szeklers left behind at Bonczhida no sooner perceived themselves captainless, than they proceeded to make themselves perfectly at home in the occupied castle. At first indeed they only jostled each other in the hall and vestibules, but presently they began to insist that the private apartments should also be thrown open to them.
The castellan hesitated. He declared that there was no necessity for such a step, and begged the noble gentlemen to keep within their legal rights, whereupon the before-mentioned broad-shouldered, bullheaded rogue stepped forth, twirled his blonde moustache, which consisted of about nine hairs, and thrusting his pockmarked face close under the castellan’s nose, exclaimed—
“What do you mean by that? You are a conspirator! You have robber-bands concealed in those rooms. Open the doors instantly, or we’ll burn the house down!”
The castellan was very wroth, but he was also very frightened, so he threw open the rooms in order that the Szeklers might see with their own eyes that nobody was concealed there.
The Szeklers thereupon, with astonishing conscientiousness, thoroughly explored every hole and corner, even looking into places where no one would ever have thought of hiding anything. They looked under and inside all the beds. They pulled out all the cupboards. They took the grates out bodily to see what was behind them. They pitched all the books out of the bookcases, and, after ransacking every room, came at last to Lady Banfi’s bedchamber.
“Look! look! There sits Banfi!” cried the bullheaded ringleader, recoiling at first before a lifelike portrait of the Baron, but immediately afterwards rushing forward and gouging out one of its eyes with his spear. “And that pretty lady yonder is his wife, I suppose?” asked he, pointing to another portrait by the side of the first. “Ai, ai, ai! We
