ul Wesselenyi, who called him
out into the entrance hall "just for a word." Beldi went into the hall
while Toekoeli's thundering words sounded through the entire room,
drowning out the ceaseless noise. In this entrance hall a veiled lady
waited for Beldi. When she uncovered her face it was only with the
greatest difficulty that he recognized his own daughter Sophie, the
wife of Paul Wesselenyi, so much had sorrow changed and broken her.
She had wept her beautiful eyes out.

"We are fugitives from our country," sobbed Sophie, falling on her
father's breast. "Our estates in Hungary have been taken from us. My
husband has been driven from his castle and is fleeing for his life."

Beldi grew serious. This unexpected Job's messenger brought war to his
soul. Within thundered Toekoeli's voice summoning them to an uprising
and Beldi no longer was in a hurry to check it.

"Stay with me," he said, sorrowfully. "Here you can live in peace
until the fate of the country meets with a change."

"Too late," replied Wesselenyi. "I have already enlisted as common
soldier under the standard of the French general, Count Bohan."

"You, a common soldier! You, a descendant of the Palatine Wesselenyi!
And what is to become of my daughter meantime?"

"She is to remain with you and to be widowed until the struggle for
Hungary is over."

When he had finished speaking he placed his young wife Sophie in
Beldi's arms, kissed her brow and went away with dry eyes.

Within the people were clamoring. Beldi saw his daughter sob and a
bitter feeling began to blaze in his breast, not unlike revenge. He
began to feel almost content that within there was a cry for war and
he stood ready to draw his sword--he, the leader of the peace
party!--to rush into the hall of the Diet and cry aloud, "War and
retaliation!"

At this moment the pages conducted to the door of the entrance hall an
old man, pale as death who, recognizing Beldi, hastened to him and
addressed him with trembling voice:

"My lord, surely you are the general of the Szeklers, Paul Beldi, of
Uzoni?"

"Yes, what do you wish of me?"

"I am," stammered, in dying voice, the sick old man, "Benfalva's last
inhabitant. The rest have all been carried off by
war--famine--pestilence. I alone am left; after I came away the place
was entirely deserted; I too feel my release near and so I have
brought with me to give over to you, the public seal, and the--village
bell--give them over to the nati