"The relations between the Prince and his wife are at present strained. It is said that he has even forbidden her to enter his apartment."
This news seemed to stun Banfy, but one consoling thought was left to him.
"I do not suppose they will venture to do me an injustice for they know that I have troops in Somlyo and Klausenburg ready for action, who may call them to account."
"My lord, it is difficult to lead an army when one is in prison; and remember that a live dog is a more powerful beast than a dead lion."
These words caused a change in Banfy"s decision. For some time he rode along beside Koncz"s carriage, still considering; after a long time he replied gloomily:--"You are right," gave spurs to his horse and rode back to Klausenburg, resolved not to be enticed away from the centre of his troops.
When he reached the spot where barely six hours before the troops had shouted their huzzas in his honor, to his great astonishment he came upon a group of gypsies who seemed to be hunting for something on the ground.
"What are you doing here?" he said, when he was in their midst. At this question their chief came forward and recognizing Banfy, took off his cap humbly.
"My gracious lord, the gypsies have come out to gather up the cartridges which my lords the n.o.bles had scattered here."
"Where are the n.o.ble lords now?"
"Oh, my gracious lord, some have gone in one way and some in another."
"What do you mean? Where have they gone?"
"When they found that your Grace had left Klausenburg, they scattered to the four winds."
Banfy turned pale.
"And Michael Angyal?"
"He was the first to hurry away."
Banfy felt a dizziness seize him; tears stood in his eyes. Thus to be deserted by all, by man, by fate and even by his own consciousness!
What was left to him of all his power! whither should he turn? what should he plan? every way was closed to him. He could neither use the sword nor fight with the arm of the law, nor flee. Mechanically he allowed his horse to carry him on. With gloomy face he sat in his saddle, staring vacantly at the ground and at the clouds. In heaven, on earth even as in his own heart, all was desolate. Nowhere did he find a place of refuge. The one pa.s.sion of his soul, which had entirely filled it, was pride. Now that this was gone the world was empty. He rode on and on wherever his horse took him. Before him stretched out great forests. He thought: "What lies beyond these forests? high mountains; and what beyond those? still higher peaks; and what further? summits of snow--and not a house to offer me refuge." So at the first stroke did everybody turn from him? was the man who the day before had ruled half Transylvania and had castles at his disposal not to find a hut to shelter him that night? was he to be an object of ridicule to his foes and not have the satisfaction of being able to laugh in the hour of death? was he to die ingloriously like a hunted beast? He considered how he could arrange it so that since he must die at least he should not be derided after death.
Gradually an idea began to develop in his mind. With this thought the color came back to his cheeks, and as if strengthening him to a decision he heard an inner voice saying:
"Yes, thither, thither."
He turned the bridle of his horse toward the forest before him and disappeared among the trees.
The storm raged, the trees creaked in the wind, the rain fell and the swollen streams roared. The horizon was surrounded by steep rocks and at their feet in a pathless valley a rider stumbled along, who from the heights above looked like a mere ant. May G.o.d be gracious to him in this storm, at night, in such a place! It is Gregyina-Drakuluj.
Before our eyes is a splendid Oriental apartment, hundreds of wax candles are lighted, but the ceiling is too high for their gleam to reach; two rows of columns support the heavy architrave, slender columns with the heads of animals for capitals, such as are found in Persian temples. The s.p.a.ce between the columns is hung with bright draperies, the walls are covered with arabesques. This was the hidden apartment of the Devil"s Garden, and the one who dwelt here, woman, fairy or demon, was Azraele. Here she shaped the future, made endless plans, dreamed of power and battles, and new countries in which she should be queen, of new stars in which she should be the sun.
Suddenly she heard a sound as if some one had ridden over the vaulted ceiling: steps were heard in the pa.s.sage adjoining and there were three knocks at the door. She sprang hurriedly from her couch, drew the heavy bolts and pulled open the door. There stood Dionysius Banfy, sad, silent and dispirited, with no greeting for this beautiful woman.
A shiver pa.s.sed over him. It is true he wore a tiger-skin over his usual clothing, but the heavy rain had penetrated it.
"You are wet through," said Azraele. "Warm yourself quickly. Come here and rest."
With these words she drew Banfy to a sofa, took off his cloak and covered him with her own lined with fur, and placed a cushion under his feet. But Banfy was cold and silent. His misfortune seemed written on his face even to a less keen eye and to a mind more free from suspicion than Azraele"s. It could not be concealed that his proud features no longer bore the stamp of the lord in power but of a fallen king, whose fall had been the lower since his height was great; who had not come because he wished to leave all that was dear to him but because he was left by everybody. Not for all the world would Azraele have shown that she noticed the change in Banfy"s face. She tripped off like a doe and came back bearing a great silver tray of gold drinking cups.
"Not the gold ones, they do not break when you throw them at the wall.
Let us have our wine in Venetian crystal." He seized the first gla.s.s and said in bitter scorn, "This gla.s.s to my friends!" He drank it off and hurled it in contempt to the wall where it was shattered to pieces.
At once he seized a second. "This second gla.s.s to my enemies!" and emptying the gla.s.s he hurled it with mad laughter into the air. It went almost to the ceiling and when it fell dropped on a cushion, and did not break.
"See, it mocks me still and is unbroken!" said Banfy, with blazing eyes.
Azraele sprang up, caught up the gla.s.s and crushed it under her feet.
Then Banfy took the third gla.s.s.
"This gla.s.s for Transylvania!" And he emptied it, but when he had taken it from his lips the smile died from his face and instead of hurling it at the wall he set it on the table. A cold shudder ran through his whole frame at the meaning of his own words, "This gla.s.s for Transylvania!" He did not take his hand from the gla.s.s but timorously attempted to raise it from the table, when the gla.s.s without visible cause cracked and fell into fragments in his hand. The diamond ring on his finger had scratched the gla.s.s and like all badly cooled crystal, it went to pieces at the slightest scratch. Banfy sprang back in terror as if he had seen an omen.
The girl took up his gla.s.s and with lips quivering with pa.s.sion cried out, "And this gla.s.s for love!"
The words recalled Banfy from his bewilderment to the present surroundings.
"For me there is no love!"
"Your heart has been full of lofty plans. Fate had determined you to be the ruler of a country and perhaps the hero of half a world,--a man who should fill a page of history with his name."
"All that is past," said Banfy, "I am n.o.body and nothing!"
"Ah!" cried Azraele. "Have your enemies triumphed over you?"
"A curse upon their heads! I had sympathy and I fell."
"Is Csaki among them?"
"Yes, he pursues me most bitterly."
"And have all your faithful friends left you?"
"The fallen has no faithful friends."
"You could hire mercenaries and begin the fight. You certainly are rich enough for that."
"My wealth has gone!"
"You might get help from a foreign country."
"I have fallen, and know what is before me--I must die! Yet my enemies shall not have the triumph of making my death a festival and of laughing when I am pale with death. I will die alone!"
"I will show you something!" and with these words she drew aside the rug, lifted a trap-door and there was a low room, with thick short columns among which casks were ranged.
"True," said Banfy, "that is the powder I hid there after John Kemeny"s fall."