op and now he had not sufficient strength of soul to withdraw
proudly, but allowed himself to continue the discussion.

"It is true the Prince is my enemy, but the Princess has always
defended me and I can put confidence in her character."

"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 nobles had scattered here."

"Where are the noble 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