What could Teleki do but lie down at the express command of his Sovereign.
“And you won’t get up again without my permission, mind,” said the Prince, signalling to young Cserei, and addressing the remainder of his discourse to him. “And you, young man, take care that your master does not leave his bed, do you hear? I command it, and, till he is quite well, don’t let him do any hard work, whether it be reading, writing, or dictation. You have my authorisation to prevent it, and you must rigorously do your duty. You will also allow nobody to enter this room, except the doctor and the members of the family. Now, mind what I say! As for you, Master Teleki, you will wrap yourself well up and get yourself well rubbed all over the body with a woollen cloth, clap a mustard poultice on your neck and keep it there as long as you can bear it, and towards evening have a hot bath, with salt and bran in it; and if you won’t have a vein opened put six leeches on your temples, and the doctor will tell you what else to do. And in any case don’t fail to take some of these pilulae de cynoglosso. Their effect is infallible.” Whereupon the Prince pressed into Teleki’s hand a box full of those harmless medicaments which, under the name of dog’s-tongue pills, were then the vogue in all domestic repositories.
“All will be well, your Highness.”
“Let us hope so! Towards evening I will come and see you again.”
And then the Prince withdrew with an air of satisfaction, thinking that he had given the fellow a good frightening.
Scarce had he closed the door behind him than Teleki beckoned to Cserei to bring him the letters which had just arrived.
The page regarded him dubiously. “The Prince forbade me to do so,” he observed conscientiously.
“The Prince loves to have his joke,” returned the counsellor. “I like my joke, too, when I’ve time for it. Break open those letters and read them to me.”
“But what will the Prince say?”
“It is I who command you, my son, not the Prince. Read them, I say, and don’t mind if you hear me groan.”
Cserei looked at the seal of one of the letters and durst not break it open.
“Your Excellency, that is a secretum sigillum.”
“Break it open like a man, I say. Such secrets are not dangerous to you; you are a child to be afraid of such things.”
Cserei opened the letter, and glancing at the signature, stammered in a scarce audible voice: “Leopoldus.”5
Teleki, resting on his elbows, listened attentively.
“Your Highness and my well-disposed Friend—I have heard from Baron Mendenzi Kopp and worthy Master Kászonyi of your Excellency’s good dispositions towards me and Christendom, and your readiness to help in the present disturbances. All my own efforts will be directed to the preservation of the rights and liberties of the Christian Princes, so that there may not be the slightest occasion that the Turkish War should extend, and that the whole power of the Ottoman Empire should be hurled on me and my dominions. But I hope that the fury of these barbarians, by the combination of the foreign kings and princes, shall, with God’s assistance, be so opposed and thwarted as to make them turn back from the league of the combined faithful hosts. Meanwhile, I assure your Excellency and the Estates of Transylvania of my protection, so long as you continue well-disposed towards me, and I entrust the maintenance of this good understanding between us to Messrs. the illustrious Baron Kopp and the Honourable Mr. Kászonyi. Wishing your Excellency good health and all manner of good fortune, etc., etc.”
Cserei looked at the doors and windows in terror, for fear someone might be listening.
“And now let us read the second letter.”
Cserei’s topknot regularly began to sweat when he recognised at the bottom of the opened letter the signature of the Grand Vizier, who thus wrote to the Prince:
“Most illustrious Prince, hearty love and greeting!—We would inform thee of our grace and favour that we have sent a part of our army to the assistance of the imprisoned heroes in our most mighty master the Sultan’s fortress of Nyitra, where the faithless foe are besieging them. It is therefore necessary that thou with thy whole host and all the necessary muniments of war should hasten thither without loss of time, so as to unite both in heart and deed with our warriors, who are on their way against the enemy. We believe that by the grace of God thou wilt be ready to render useful service to the mighty Sultan, and so be entitled to participate in his favour and liberality. We, moreover, after the end of the solemn feast days which we are wont to keep after our fasts are over, will follow our advance guards with our countless hosts, and thou meanwhile must manfully take this business in hand, so that thy loyalty may shine the more gloriously in martial deeds. Peace be to those who are in the obedience of God.”
Poor Cserei, when he had read this letter through, had a worse fit of ague than his master. He anxiously watched the face of the statesman, but the only thing visible in his features was bodily suffering. There was no sign of mental disturbance.
The blood flew to his face, the veins were throbbing visibly in his temples.
“Come hither, my son,” he said in a scarcely audible voice; “bring me a glass of water, put into it as much rhubarb powder as would go on the edge of a knife, and give it me to drink.”
Cserei fancied that the sick Premier had not mastered the contents of the letter because of a fresh access of fever, and, having prepared the rhubarb water in a few moments, gave it him to drink, whereupon Teleki
