The states of the country were already assembled in Karlsburg, in the stately palace of John Sigmund. Only the Prince's place was still vacant. There sat in a row the Transylvanian patricians, the leaders of the Hungarian nobility, the most influential by intelligence, wealth, and bravery; the Bethlens, Kornis, Csakis, Lazars, KemÉnys, Mikes and Banfys. The will of these mediÆval clans represented the nation, their deeds shaped its history, their ancestors, grandfathers and fathers, had fallen on the battlefield in defence of their princes or, in case they had risen against them, on the scaffold; and yet their descendants did not fail to follow the example of their forefathers. A new prince came to the helm and they took up the sword fallen from the hand of their fathers to wield it for or against him, as fate willed.

In picturesque contrast to the splendor of the Hungarian nobles were the deputies and nobility of the Szeklers in their simpler costume and with their serious inflexible features; and the Saxon states with their simple faces and their ancestral German costume.The crowd gathered in the galleries and behind the balustrades formed a gay picture. Here and there one or another familiar figure was pointed out and sometimes a threatening fist was shaken at some offender. Finally a blare of trumpets announced that the Prince had come. The seneschals threw wide the doors: the crowd cried huzza! and the Prince entered attended by his courtiers. At their head marched Dionysius Banfy as first marshal, with the national standard in his right hand. By his side Paul Beldi of Uzoni with the princely mace, as general of the Szeklers. Behind them came solemnly the prime minister, Michael Teleki, carrying wrapped in silk the official seal.

All these lords were in splendid court costume. In the middle came the Prince himself in long, princely caftan with ermine bordered cap,—the sceptre in his hand. Around and behind him crowded the ambassadors from foreign courts. In the first row was the Sultan's representative, in jeweled costume; then followed the ambassadors of Louis XIV., Forval, a courtly, good-looking man in a silk-trimmed dolman, with gold lace on his hat and an embroidered sword-knot, and an abbÉ with smiling face, wearing a lilac robe and purple girdle. Then came Sobieski's representative in cloak with slashed sleeves, so like the Hungarian dress. All these lords took their places on the right and left. The ambassadors of the foreign courts remained behind the Prince's seat and several of them carried on a lively conversation with the Hungarian nobles while the tedious protocol of the last Diet was being read.

Among the last was Nicholas Bethlen, whose features became familiar to us in Zrinyi's hunting-party. He was a lively, sensible man who in his youth had traveled through all the civilized countries of Europe and had made the acquaintance of the most important men, even of princes; yet his national character had not been impaired although he had adopted the most advanced ideas of his time. The French say that it was he who first acquainted them with the hussar costume, and by the pattern of the cloak which excited admiration on his figure, Louis XIV. had several regiments equipped.

When Bethlen caught sight of Forval, whom he had known in France, he hastened to him and greeted him cordially. Forval, hearing that something was being read aloud, said to the young nobleman:

"Will you not lose the thread of the deliberation?"

"The present business can go on without me; the measures which are now being carried turn on the question how many dishes a man should set before his servant; or at the most how the poor can be made to grow rich so they can pay their taxes. As soon as they come to important matters I will be in my place."

"Come then and tell me meantime, which are worthy men here and which are not. In Transylvania everybody is known, of course."

"This classification is not at all easy. Before I had ever been out of Transylvania, and while I belonged either to one party or the other, I was convinced that all the adherents of my party were worthy men but those on the opposite side were worth nothing. But since I have lived in foreign lands and been somewhat withdrawn from the sight of political machinery I begin to see that one may really be as good a patriot, as brave a fighter and as honest a man in one party as in the other. It all depends on which is managing affairs more intelligently. However, if you wish I will share with you my party views; you can then form your own opinions. This man of proud bearing at the Prince's right is Dionysius Banfy, the one at his left is Paul Beldi; both are among the most distinguished lords of the country and both are decidedly opposed to the impending war. At the same time they are opposed to each other. On one point only do they stand together. Banfy is evidently in league with the Roman Emperor and the other with the Turk. According to their opinion Transylvania is quite strong enough to drive out any foe which forces its way into the territory, and sensible enough not to strive after the possessions of others. Now turn your eyes toward that man with thin hair at the Prince's left. It is this man's clearness that holds the two in check. He is a near kinsman of the Prince's, and when the Hungarian National party has been overthrown he will again take up the unsuccessful campaign. The contest between the strength and cunning of these three men is going to offer an interesting spectacle."

"What if the peace party should prevail?"

"Then the nation will have closed its career."

"And the king cannot oppose this?"

"Here, my friend, we are not at the court of Versailles where the king may be allowed to say 'L'État c'est moi.' These men here are, each one of them, as mighty as the Prince himself. Their strength acts in union with the Prince; but let him try to act in opposition to the will of the nation and he will soon discover that he stands alone. In the same way these lords would be isolated if they should undertake anything against the decision of the nation."

"Tell the truth. Do you hope the war-party will carry off the victory?"

"Hardly, this time. I do not yet see the man who could accomplish it. In the entire Hungarian nation there is no man who could serve as ideal to this war-loving people. The leaders have gone to ruin. Rakoczi has changed parties. Teleki knows how to overthrow parties but not how to create any. Besides he is no soldier and in such a position a warrior is needed; he represents cold reason and here a soul of fire is needed. He does not feel a mission within him, he has only an interest in having Hungary go to war. One of the great Hungarian lords, that smooth-faced youth there, has sued for the hand of his daughter in order to interest him in his party. You can be assured he will not end where he has begun. One idea leads him on,—power. Fate is changeful and he avails himself of every means."

This cold consolation was not agreeable to Forval; meanwhile the tedious reading had come to an end and Bethlen returned to his seat.

The Prince explained to the lords, with great depression of spirits, that the affair which had occasioned their coming together would be explained by Teleki; he then wrapped himself more closely in his caftan and settled down into a corner of the throne.

Teleki rose, waited until the murmur of the people had gradually subsided, then cast a tranquil glance at Banfy and began as follows:

"Noble Knights and States, you are acquainted with the events which have recently taken place in Hungary; even if you were not acquainted with them, you would need only to cast a glance about you and you would see the sad faces worn with despair which swell our assembly; these are our Hungarian brothers, once the flower of our nation, now withered leaves which the storm has driven. You have not refused to share with your brothers in their misfortunes your hearth and your bread, and you have mingled your tears with theirs; but they have turned to us, not for the bread of charity, nor for woman's tears—you, Bocskai, and you, Bethlen, whose portraits look down upon us in silent reproach, whose victorious banners covered with dust wave above the princely throne, why could you not rise in hero form to seize these banners and to thunder out to this irresolute modern generation: 'The exiles demand of you their home, you must win back for the homeless their fatherland by war!'" ....

Here Teleki paused, as if he awaited objections. Everybody was wrapped in silence, feeling that thus far it was only a matter of rhetorical figures. This silence constrained Teleki to avoid the bombastic in his speech.

"You meet my speech with silence. This is the same as, 'Qui tacet, negat.' I will not believe that your heart is cold and that it is for that reason you do not become excited. You waver because you are taking counsel with your strength, but you must know that not alone shall we move to the field of battle; the confiscated churches, the fate of the clergy dragged away to the galleys, has forced weapons into the hands of all the Protestant princes of Europe. Even the King of Belgium, who has least concern for our fate, has by force rescued the clergy of our faith from Neapolitan galleys. The sword of Gustavus Adolphus too has not yet rusted in its scabbard. Yes, even the Catholic princes and those who acknowledge Mohammed are ready to grant their assistance in our affairs. See, the King of France, at present the mightiest ruler of Europe, not only in his own land but also in Poland recruits armies for us. If it should be necessary the Sultan will not hesitate to break the enforced peace; or if he should not do this, still it will be an easy matter to assure ourselves of his border troops for pay. And now when the noise of battle roars about us on all sides, when everybody has seized his sword, ought we alone to leave ours in the sheath? We, who have the most duties to fulfil toward our brothers and even toward ourselves? What happened to them yesterday, may happen to us to-day. What country shall then give us refuge? therefore, sons of my fatherland, listen to the entreaties of the exiled as if you were in the same position; for I tell you the time may come when you will be in the position of your brothers, and as you treat them Fate will treat you."

With these words Teleki came to an end; he fixed his eyes on Dionysius Banfy as if he knew in advance that he would be the first to oppose him. Banfy arose; it was evident from his countenance that he had done violence to his feelings in order to keep cool.

"Noble comrades,"—he began in an unusually calm voice,—"sympathy for the unfortunate and hatred for old enemies are both passions befitting men. The life of states however offers no room for passions. Here we are not kinsmen nor friends, nor even enemies. Here we are only patriots who reckon coolly; for the decision will determine the fate of the whole country, quite apart from the question of how many will weep or lament in consequence of the decision. This is the real question,—'Shall we stake the existence of Transylvania for Hungary, that it may arise again by our blood?' Let us not follow the voice of our hearts; this would lead us to feel only, the head must think. At present, Transylvania lives in peace. The people begin to feel prosperous. The towns are building up. The garb of mourning is gradually disappearing and on the bloody battlefields the blade shoots into the ear. Now the Hungarian within Transylvania is his own master; no stranger forces tribute from him; he has neither foe nor patron; nobody dares mix in his councils: the neighboring powers are under obligation to protect him, and he has no homage to pay them. Consider this well before you hazard everything for one chance. Do you wish to see Transylvania once more turned into a great battlefield and your subjects into armies? and there is still the question whether these armies would be victorious. Even if our fighting force were sufficient another important question arises:—Who is to be our leader? Not one of us has inherited the spirit of Bethlen or Bocskai. Neither I, nor my lord Teleki. On whom can we count outside ourselves? on the mood of Louis XIV.? his policy is easily made to waver by a pair of beautiful eyes; and when we should be in the deepest distress it is possible that a little intrigue at Versailles might be the cause of our being left alone on the battlefield."

A slight cough of vexation was heard from Forval.

"However," went on Banfy, "Sobieski will not pick a quarrel with the Emperor his present ally, for our beautiful eyes, unless there is every other cause. Nor will the Sultan so easily break his oath as my lord, Michael Bethlen, imagines. What course is there left us? To call into Hungary the Tartar Nomads? The poor Hungarian people would certainly return most hearty thanks for such assistance! The brave Nicholas Zrinyi, who stands as the ideal to every Hungarian, once related a fable bearing on this which deserves to be handed down. The devil was dragging a Szekler along on his back. A neighbor of his met him and said: 'Which way are you going, my good friend?' 'I am being dragged to hell,' replied the other. 'Indeed, that is truly unfortunate,' said the other. 'It would be still more unfortunate,' replied the rogue, 'if the Devil should seat himself on my back, drive his spurs into me and make me carry him.' I leave you to make the application. For my part I should not know how to decide aright which I ought to fear more, the enmity of the one, or the friendship of the other. And what is to be the result of this war? If we conquer with the aid of the Sultan Transylvania becomes a Turkish pashalic. If we are conquered we sink into the condition of an Austrian province, while now we are, by God's grace, an independent country. Hungary's fate anticipates improvement in every case, and it lies just as heavily on my heart as on the hearts of those who think that the sick man can be healed by the sword. But nothing is to be attained in this way. How much blood has already flowed without the slightest result! Let us try at once another way. Ought not the Hungarian to possess so much strength of soul that he can overthrow, by intellectual superiority, the foe whom he cannot conquer by force of arms? Subdue your conqueror. You who in understanding, activity, wealth and manly beauty are the first of the kingdom, why do you not take the high position which is becoming you? Were you there where the Pazmans and Esterhazys spread themselves no empty place would then remain for a Lobkowitz. If, instead of fighting these small battles without result, you would fight it out with your intelligences and your influence you might make your land prosperous and that without the cost of a drop of blood. It rests with you to conjure up again the period of Louis the Great. At that time when the foreign prince was so enamored of his chosen people he understood how to become a Hungarian and so, with the help of the nations, became strong and powerful. If in your eyes the prosperity of the nations is of the first importance, change your rÔle: let the states of Transylvania undertake to promote peace between the Emperor and the nation, to get back for you your property and your rank and I will be the first to offer a helping hand for that purpose, and Michael Teleki surely will be the second. If you do not accept this proposition then consider what you can do. So far as that prophecy goes of first one and then another, you need not be concerned about Transylvania. I will wager that everybody who crosses Transylvania by force of arms, let him be who he may, will find a force to match him. I also wager that this Transylvanian fighting force will never for the love of anybody rashly cross the borders of a foreign country.""So then you think Hungary is a foreign country!" rang out a mocking voice from the crowd.

This interruption disturbed Banfy's composure. He turned angrily toward the corner from which the remark had come, and when he met the cold, disdainful glances of the Hungarians grouped together, he forgot himself; everything swam before him, and throwing his kalpac on the ground he cried out:

"As you say, quite right. You have always been strangers to us; nay more, stepchildren! You have always done wrong and we have always suffered for it. We have fought and you have trifled away the results of our conquests. Three times have your dissensions plunged your country into the grave, and three times has Transylvania brought it to resurrection. We have furnished you heroes and you have furnished us traitors." These last words Banfy had fairly to shout to make himself heard above the increasing din. Soon all were shouting confusedly. The Hungarian lords sprang up from their places and broke out in anathemas against Banfy. The more serious of the peace-party shook their heads thoughtfully when they saw that this inconsiderate expression of Banfy's was the occasion of stirring up so much violence of feeling.

Beldi rose; and the rest who would gladly see peace restored, shouted: "Let us listen to Beldi."At this moment a young man suddenly made his way forward and stood in front of Banfy with glowing face and his hand resting on Teleki's seat. It was Emerich TÖkÖli.

"I too ask for a word," he shouted, with a voice that drowned all else. "By law and justice, speech is mine at this bar. If you in Hungary deny your mother and would make boundaries between her and you, then I too will speak. I am just as strong a landed nobleman in Transylvania as you, proud little god, whose father was one of those heroes in whose name you are heaping up insults on the mother-country."

Beldi tried to get to TÖkÖli to restrain him from speaking, but just then he was seized from behind by the hand, and when he looked around he saw to his surprise his son-in-law, Paul Wesselenyi, who called him out into the entrance hall "just for a word." Beldi went into the hall while TÖkÖli'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 TÖkÖli'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 nation—let them be kept in the archives—and let it be written above: 'This was the bell and the seal of Benfalva, in which village everybody to the last man is dead'!" At this Beldi let his hand fall from his sword hilt in dismay and freed himself from the embrace of his daughter who was still clinging to him.

"Go home to your mother at Bodola, and learn to bear your fate nobly."

He then took the seal out of the hand of the death-stricken old man and hurried back into the hall just as TÖkÖli had finished his speech, causing a terrible effect on the entire assembly. The French ambassador pressed his hand. Beldi took his place at the Szeklers' table and laid down the seal. He was universally respected and when they saw that he was ready to speak there was perfect silence.

"See," he said in excited tones; "a desolated village sends here to the country its official seal by its last inhabitant, and he too is at the point of death. ... Of such villages there are already enough in Transylvania and in time there may be still more. Famine and war have laid waste the most beautiful portions of our country. ... This seal, my lords, you must not forget to place among the symbols of your victories."

These last words Beldi uttered hardly above a whisper yet they were heard in every corner of the hall, so deep a silence reigned. A tremor passed over the faces of the men.

"Outside the door I hear some one weeping," Beldi went on with quivering lips. "It is my own daughter, the wife of Paul Wesselenyi, who has been driven from her country and who has thrown herself sobbing at my feet that I in revenge for her wrongs may allow retaliation to prevail. ... And I say to you, let my child weep, let her perish, let me—and if necessary my entire family, be set apart for destruction, but let nobody in Transylvania suffer on account of my sorrow—even if every one of you has agreed to the war—I am against it—My lords—do not forget, I pray you, to lay among your trophies this seal, and soon the rest too."When he had spoken, Beldi took his place again. Long after his words were ended the silence of the grave reigned throughout the hall. Teleki, ascribing this silence to disapproval rose, sure of his position, and made the states give their votes. But this one time he had not taken the public pulse correctly, for the majority of the states, affected by the previous scene voted for peace, so great was the influence of Beldi and Banfy still over the country.

Teleki looked in confusion toward his son-in-law. The latter muttered bitterly with clenched fists and tears in his eyes:

"Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo."

When the assembly had broken up Forval and Nicholas Bethlen met.

"So then there is no future hope of seeing Transylvania take up arms," said the Frenchman, somewhat dejectedly.

"On the contrary we just begin to hope with good reason," replied Bethlen, laying his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Did you listen when the young man spoke?"

"He spoke beautifully."

"It is not a question of beautiful speaking. I think that is the man you are looking for."

"A King of Hungary?"

"Or a fugitive fleeing from country to country, just as the dice fall."