for his generosity, when he
suddenly became aware that the eyes of all were turned toward a side
entrance of the tent, where somebody had entered without announcement.
The Prince looked in that direction, and what he saw caused him to
forget for the moment Transylvania, Kutschuk Pasha and Klausenburg.
There before him stood his wife, the beautiful and stately Anna
Bornemissa.

Her look was indeed princely. How well this imperious countenance
knew how to maintain a friendly and yet proud gaze! No adornment was
noticeable in her costume, but was there any need of precious stones
where such speaking eyes gleamed? Did this royal figure need velvet
and ermine to be recognized? Apafi saw her to-day for the first time
since his departure. She was as beautiful as ever. Accustomed now to
good fortune and comfort, her features had gained a transparent gleam;
her eyes, long unfilled with sorrow, were brighter than ever; the
smile of her lips that had known such joy only a short time, was all
the sweeter, and her figure formerly slight had now gained in
roundness. The gracious dignity of her figure and movements suited her
well.

When Apafi caught sight of his wife he forgot all propriety and
dignity, hurried toward her, seized her hand, drew his trembling wife
to him, as was his wont when a plain nobleman, and kissed her mouth
and cheeks in a way plainly audible to the assembled states. Anna
nestled into the embrace of her husband, offered her beautiful lips to
his kisses, and at the same time her great serious eyes, over her
husband's shoulder, seemed to be searching the faces of those
assembled in the tent, resting a longer or shorter time on each
individual. The embrace seemed on Apafi's part to have no end, until
Anna with a smile freed herself and said:

"You are lavishing all your effusions on me alone; there is some one
else here who claims his share."

She motioned to her maid, Sarah, who with smiling countenance had
followed her mistress into the tent, and now disclosed to Apafi's eyes
a beautiful sleeping child that, covered with a silken wrap, the maid
had lulled in her arms.

Beside himself with joy, Apafi took the child in his arms and kissed
the round angel-face again and again. The child woke up, endured the
kisses and embraces without a cry, and tugged at his father's beard,
to the unspeakable joy of his parents.

The men standing about thought it fitting to congratulate the Prince
on his paternal joy.