tify
the decision. This Prince usually so gentle, so kind-hearted, now
poisoned with terror did not know himself.

Ever since noon saddled horses and carriages in waiting had been
standing before the gate. Suddenly Ladislaus Csaki came hurrying out
of the hall, concealing a paper in his pocket and calling for his
horse; he mounted, motioned in silence to the lords following him and
galloping off. The other lords too as if pursued, hurried into the
carriages standing in a row before the palace, and taking leave of
each other with mysterious whisperings, quickly fled so that the
Prince in a few moments was left alone. Teleki was the last to leave
him. The Prince accompanied this lord to the vestibule, his
countenance showing deep sorrow; he could hardly let Teleki go. The
latter withdrew his hand coldly from the Prince's.

"You need have no fancies about this, my lord. The principles of a
country are concerned here, not a human life. If my own head stood in
the way I should say cut it off and I say the same about the head of
another."

And with that he went away.

Apafi did not stay in his room, he felt the need of fresh air. Within
something threatened to choke him so oppressive was the air,--or was
it his spirits? He went out into the vestibule. The cool night air
soothed his bewildered spirits and the sight of the starry heavens was
good to his clouded mind. Leaning against the balustrade he gazed in
silence into the still night as if he expected that some star greater
than all the rest would fall from Heaven, or that somebody miles away
from him would cry out. Suddenly a cry did strike his ear. With a
shudder he looked about but remained speechless in terror. His wife
stood before him, whom his lord councillors had kept away from him for
weeks by causing a division between the stupefied husband and the
high-spirited wife. When the last grandee had withdrawn her loyal men
had informed her that the Prince had signed the death sentence and the
shocked wife, forcing her way through castle guards had rushed to her
husband; now meeting him in the vestibule she hurried to him and in
her excitement cried out:

"Accursed man, do not shed the blood of that innocent one!"

Apafi drew back timidly before his wife.

"What do you wish of me?" he asked, sullenly. "What are you saying?"

"You have signed Banfy's death sentence."

"I?" asked Apafi dully, and reached for his wife's hand.

"Away with your hand, the blood of