What a ridiculous ending that would be!

Towards evening Emeric Tököly paid a visit to the Prince. He approached the old man with the respect of a child, did obeisance, and would have kissed his hand, but Apafi would not permit it, but embraced him, kissed him on the forehead repeatedly, and made him sit down beside him on the bear-skin of his camp-bed.

The young leader feelingly begged the old man's pardon for all the trouble that he had caused him and Transylvania.

"It is I who ought to beg pardon of your Excellency," said Apafi in a submissive voice.

"Not at all, your Highness and dear Father. I know that you have always loved me, but evil counsellors have whispered such scandalous things to you about me that you were bound to hate me—but God requite them for it if I cannot."

"Be magnanimous towards them, my dear son; forgive them, for my sake."

Tököly was silent. He knew that Teleki was in the tent, he saw him, but he would not take any notice of him. At last, without even looking towards him, he said, in the most passionate, threatening voice:

"Look, ye, Teleki, you have practised all sorts of devices against me, but if you put your nose outside the tent of the Prince you will eat his bread no more. You would be in my power now, and here your head would lie, but for his Highness whom I look upon as a father."

Michael Teleki was silent, but future events were to prove that he had heard very well what was now spoken.

After surrendering the fortress of Fülek to the Turks, the Transylvanian gentlemen returned home with their army; and Michael Teleki, when he got home, paid a visit to the church where lay the ashes of Denis Banfy, and hiding his face on the tomb, he wept bitterly over the noble patriot whom he had sacrificed to his ambitious plans.

CHAPTER XXX.
A MAN ABANDONED BY HIS GUARDIAN-ANGEL.

The Turkish armies were everywhere routed. They lost the fortresses of Grand Visegrad and Érsekújvár one after the other. The fortress of Nograd was struck by lightning, which fired the powder-magazine and blew up the garrison. Finally Buda was besieged and captured in the sight of the Grand Vizier, and after a domination of one hundred and fifty years, the half-moons were hauled down from the bastions and crosses re-occupied their places.

And all those who were present at the Diván fulfilled, one by one, the prophecy that they should see Paradise before long.

Rislán Pasha fell beneath the walls of Buda at the head of the Janissaries, the Vizier of Buda was throttled by order of Kara Mustafa after the battle was lost, Rifa Aga was drowned in the Danube among the fugitives, Kara Ogli fell defending the ramparts of Buda, Tököly killed Ajas Pasha at the Sultan's command; and, after the fall of Buda, Olaj Beg brought to Kara Mustafa for his own use the silken cord and the purple purse. It was the last purse which Kara Mustafa ever saw, for after his decapitation his head was put inside it.

And, finally, the people of Stambul, maddened by so many losses and reinforced by the rebellious Janissaries, rushed upon the Seraglio, cut down the counsellors of the Sultan, and threw the Sultan himself into the same dungeon in which he had let his own brother languish for thirty-nine years. The brother was now set on the throne, and the dethroned Sultan died in the dungeon.

And this also was fulfilled that those who had stirred up the Turks to begin the war turned against them at the end of it. Transylvania deposited its oath of homage in the hands of Caraffa, and Michael Teleki, who became a Count of the Holy Roman Empire, opened the gates of the towns and fortresses to German garrisons. The Prince paid the victors thirteen thousand florins, which it took heavy wagons two weeks to convey from Fogaras to Nagyszeben. But Michael Teleki, in addition to his countly escutcheon, got a present of a silver table service which cost ten thousand florins. So Transylvania became imperial territory, and its alliance with the Porte was dissolved.

And then it was that God called to Himself the last lovable figure in our history, the virtuous and magnanimous Anna Bornemissza.

Only after her death did Apafi feel what his wife had been to him, his guardian-angel, his consoler in all his sorrows, the brightest part of his life, and when that light set, everything around him was doubly dark. Every misfortune, every trouble, now weighed doubly heavy on his mind and heart; he had no longer any refuge against persecuting sorrow. He fled from one town to another like a hunted wild beast which can find no refuge from the dart which transfixes it. At last he barricaded himself in his room, which he did not quit for six weeks; and if visitors came to see him he complained to them like a child:

"I am starving to death. I have lost everything. It is a year since I got a farthing from my estates or my mines or my salt-works. If the farrier comes I cannot pay him his bill for my mantle, for I haven't got a stiver. What will become of my son when I am gone, poor little Prince? There's not enough to send him to school."

He began to get quite crazy, and could neither eat, drink, nor sleep. The whole day he would stride up and down his room, and utter strange things in a loud voice. What troubled him most was that he must die of hunger.

At last those about him hit upon a remedy. Every day they laid purses of money before him and said: "This sum Stephen Apor has sent from your property, and that amount Paul Inezedi has collected from your salt-works. Why should your Highness be anxious when there is such lots of money?"

And the next day they presented the same purses to him over again, and invented some fresh story. And this simple deceit somewhat pacified the poor old man, but the old worries had so affected his mind, never very strong at any time, that he could never recover his former spirits. He grew duller and more stupid every day, and often when he lay down he would sleep a couple of days at a stretch.

And at last the Almighty had mercy upon him and called him away from this vale of tears; and he went to that land where the Turks plunder not, and there is no warfare.

CHAPTER XXXI.
THE NEWLY-DRAWN SWORD.

At exactly the same time the Tartar Khan gave the Prince to understand that he intended to invade Moldavia in order that he might follow the movements of the Transylvanian army close at hand.

The Prince liked the one proposition as little as the other, so he sent the Tartar Khan's letter to General Heissler bidding him beware, as a great force was coming against him, and he sent Heissler's letter to the Tartar Khan advising him in a friendly sort of way not to move too far as Heissler was now advancing in his rear.

Consequently both armies turned aside from the Principality, and Wallachia had to support neither the Germans nor the Tartars.

This is the diplomacy of little states.

Amidst the wildly romantic hills of Lebanon is a pleasant valley for which Nature herself has a peculiar preference. Amidst the gigantic mountains which encircle a vast hollow on every side of it, rises a roundish mound. On level ground it would be accounted a hill, but in the midst of such a range of snowy giants it emerges only like a tiny heap of earth, and to this day nothing grows on it but the cedar—the finest, darkest, most widely spreading specimens of that noble and fragrant tree are here to be found. A foaming mountain stream gurgles down it on both sides, a little wooden bridge connects the opposing banks, and in the midst of the bridge a rock projecting from the water clings to the mountain side. Far away among the blue forests shine forth the white roofless little houses of the city of Edena, which, built against the mountain side, peer forth like some card-built castle, and still farther away through gaps in the hills the Syrian sea is visible.

Here in former days on the heights stood the romantic and poetical kiosk of Feriz Beg.

The youth, with dogged persistence, continued to live for years in this sublime solitude with the din of battle all around him. The prophecy which he had once pronounced in the Diván was whispered abroad among the people, ran through the army, and as every one of his sayings was severally fulfilled, the more widely there spread in the hearts of the soldiers the superstitious belief that till he seized his sword they would everywhere be defeated, but when he should again appear on the battlefield the fortune of war would turn and become favourable once more to the Ottoman arms.

Long ago the Diván had wished to profit by this blind belief, and countless embassies had been sent to the youthful hermit in his solitude announcing the fall of generals, the loss of battles, the pressure of peril.

Nothing could move Feriz. To all these tidings he replied:

"Thus it must come to pass! Doves do not spring from serpents' eggs. Your rulers are those who took it upon them to wipe out a sacred oath from the patient pages, who tore up and burnt and scattered to the winds the vow that was made before God, and now ye likewise shall be wiped from the page of history and your memory shall be laden with reproaches. Learn ye, therefore, that it is dangerous to play with the name of Allah, and though many of you grow so high that his head touches the Heavens—yet he is but a man, and the earth moves beneath his feet, and presently he shall fall and perish."

The men perceived that these words were not so bad as they seemed to be at first sight, and after every fresh defeat, more and more of his old acquaintances came to see him and begged and prayed him to seize his sword once more and let himself be chosen leader of the host.

He sternly rejected every offer. No allurement was capable of making him change his resolution.

"When the time comes for me to draw my sword," he said, "I will come without asking. That time will come none the quicker for anyone's beseeching, but come it will one day and not tarry."

And, indeed, the advent of that time had become a matter of necessity for the Ottoman Empire. The banners of the German Empire were waving in the very heart of Turkey; the Poles had recovered Podolia, the Venetians were on the Turkish islands, and at last Transylvania also broke with the Porte and opened her fortresses to the enemies of the Padishah.

The new Sultan collected fresh armies, military enthusiasm was stimulated by great rewards, fresh alliances were formed, and among the new allies the one who enjoyed the greatest confidence was Emeric Tököly, who was proclaimed Prince of Transylvania, and orders were given to the Tartar Khan and the Prince of Moldavia to support him with their forces.

Tököly, always avid of fame and glory, threw himself heart and soul into this new enterprise, but it was only when he saw the army with which he was to conquer Transylvania that he had misgivings. His soldiers were good for robbing and burning, they had been used to that for a long time, but when it came to fighting there was no power on earth capable of keeping them together. What could he make of soldiers whose sole knowledge of the art of warfare consisted in running backwards and forwards, whose most sensible weapon was the dart, and who, whenever they heard a gun go off, stuffed up their ears and bolted like so many mice? And with these ragamuffins he was expected to fight regular, highly-disciplined troops.

Suddenly an idea occurred to him. He sat down and wrote a letter and delivered it to a swift courier, enjoining him not to rest or tarry till he had placed it in the proper hands.

This letter was addressed to Feriz Beg. In it Tököly informed him of the course of events in Transylvania, and it concluded thus:

"Behold, what you prophesied has come to pass, those who began the war along with us now continue the war against us. Remember that you held out the promise of joining us when such a time came; fulfil your promise."

Feriz Beg got this letter early in the morning, and the moment after he had read it he ordered his stableman instantly to saddle his war-charger, he chose from among his swords those which smote the heaviest, exchanged his grey mantle for a splendid and costly costume, gave a great banquet to all his retainers, and bade them make merry, for in an hour's time, he would be off to the wars.

The imperial army was making itself quite at home in Albania. Beautiful scenery and beautiful women smiled upon the victors; there was money also and to spare. And soon came the rumour that a gigantic Tartar host was approaching the Albanian mountains, in number exceeding sixty thousand. The imperial army was no more than nine thousand; but they only laughed at the rumour, they had seen far larger armies fly before them. The pick of the Turkish host, the Spahis, the Janissaries, had cast down their arms before them in thousands; while it was the talk of the bazaars that all that the Tartars were good for was to devastate conquered territory. Besides, reinforcements were expected from Hungary, where the Prince of Baden was encamped beneath Nándor-Fehérvár with a numerous army.

The leader of the Albanian forces was the Prince of Hanover.

He was a pupil of the lately deceased Piccolomini, and though he inherited his valour he was scarcely his equal in wisdom.

On hearing of the approach of the Tartar army he assembled his captains and held a council of war. The enemy was assumed to be the old mob which used to turn tail at the first cannon-shot, and could not be overtaken because of the superior swiftness of its horses. And indeed it was the old mob, but a new spirit now inspired it; it followed a new leader whom the enemy had never put to flight or beaten, and that leader was Feriz Beg.

Tököly's letter had speedily brought the young hero all the way from Syria to Stambul to offer his sword and his genius to the new Sultan, and the Sultan had charged him to lead the Tartar hordes against the imperial army.

When Feriz, from the top of a hill, saw the forces of the Prince of Hanover all wedged together in a compact mass on the plain before him like a huge living machine only awaiting a propelling hand to set it in motion, he quickly sent the Tartars who were with him back into the fir-woods that they might well cover their darts with the tar and turpentine exuding from the trees, and this done, he sent them to gallop round the Prince's camp and take up their position well within range.

The Prince observed the movement but left them alone; oftentimes had the Turks attempted a simple assault upon the German camp; oftentimes had their threefold superior forces surrounded the small, well-ordered camp and assaulted it from every side, and the Germans used always politely to allow them to come within range of their guns and then discharge all their artillery at once—and generally that was the end of the whole affair.

Feriz, however, made no assault upon them, but got his Tartars to surround them, commanding them to set their darts on fire and discharge them into the air so that they might fall down into the German camp. According to this plan they could fire at the enemy at a much greater distance off than the enemy could fire upon them, for the dart, flying in a curve could reach further than the straight-going musket balls of those days, and wherever it fell its sharp point inflicted a wound, whereas the bullet was often spent before it reached its mark.

Suddenly a flaming flood of darts darkened the air and the burning resinous bolts fell from all sides into the crowded ranks of the imperial army; the points of the darts fastened in the backs of the horses, the burning drops fell upon the faces and garments of the warriors, burning through the texture and inflicting grievous wounds; the horses began to rear violently at this unexpected attack; the gunners, cursing and swearing, began to discharge their guns anyhow at the enemy; nobody paid any attention to the orders of the general, discipline was quite at an end; the burning darts were destructive of all military tactics, for there was no refuge from them, and every dart struck its man.

Then Feriz Beg blew with the trumpets, and suddenly the imperial troops were attacked from all sides. They were unable to repel the attack in the regular way, but intermingled with their assailants, fought man to man. The picked German troopers quitted themselves like men, not one of them departed without taking another with him to the next world, but the Turks outnumbered them, and just when the Prince's army was exhausted by the attacks of the Tartars, Feriz brought forward his well-rested reserves, who burned with the desire to wash out the shame of former defeats. The Prince of Hanover fell on the battle-field with the rest of his army. Not one escaped to tell the tale.

This was the first victory which turned the fortunes of war once more in favour of the Turks after so many defeats.

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE LAST DAY.

The third week after the camp had been pitched at Bozza he suddenly said to the general with a very anxious face:

"Sir, what if Tököly were to appear at some other gate of the kingdom while we are lying here?"

"Every avenue is closed against him," answered Heissler.

"But suppose he got in before we came here?"

"The trouble then would not be how he got in but how he could get out again."

But Teleki wanted to show that he also knew something of the science of warfare, so he said with the grave face of an habitual counsellor:

"I do not think it expedient that we worthy soldiers should be crammed up into a corner of the kingdom. In my opinion it would be much safer if, after guarding every pass, we took up a position equi-distant between Törcsvár and Bozza."

Now for once Teleki was right, but for that very reason Heissler was all the more put out. It was intolerable that a lay-general should suggest something to him which he could not gainsay.

And the worst of it was Teleki would not leave the general alone. "I am participating in nothing here," said he, "make use of me, give me something to do, and I will do it—occupation is what I want."

"I'll give it you at once," said Heissler, and putting his arm through Teleki's he led him to his tent, there made him sit down beside him at a round table, sent one of the yawning guards to summon Noscher, Magni, Doria and the other generals, made them sit down by the side of Teleki, sat down at the table himself, and drawing a pack of cards from his pocket, gave it to Teleki with the words:

"Here's some occupation for you—you deal!"

"What, sir!" burst forth Teleki, quite upset by the jest, "play at cards when the enemy stands before us?"

"How can we be better employed when the enemy is not before us? Do you know how to play at landsknecht?"

"I do not."

"Then we'll teach you."

And they did teach him, for in a couple of hours they had won from him a couple of hundred ducats, whereupon Teleki, on the pretext that he had no more money, retired from the game.

It was not the loss of a little money which vexed him so much as the scant respect paid to his counsels.

The other gentlemen continued the game. Heissler suddenly by a grand coup won all the ready-money of the other generals, so that at last there was a great heap of thalers and ducats in front of him, and his three-cornered hat was filled to the brim with money.

The losing party tried to console itself with jests.

"Well, well! lucky at cards, luckless in love!"

"Eh!" said Heissler, sweeping together his winnings, "I have only had one love in my life, and that is on a battlefield, but there I have always been lucky."

At that moment a rapid galloping was heard, and after a brief parley with the guard outside, a dusty dragoon courier entered the tent and whispered breathlessly in Heissler's ear:

"Tököly's advance guard is before Törcsvár, it attacked and cut down the troops posted in the pass, only the Szeklers still hold out; if we don't come quickly the pass will be taken."

Heissler suddenly swept the cards from the table, and snatching up his hat so that the money in it rolled away in every direction, he clapped it on his head, and drawing his sword exclaimed: "To horse, gentlemen! Quick! Towards Törcsvár! We shall arrive in good time, I know!"

"Well! wasn't I right?" growled Teleki.

"Oh, there's no harm done! Blow the trumpets, we must strike our tents; let the camp fires burn, and at the third sound of the trumpet let everyone advance towards Törcsvár. A company and a couple of mortars will be enough to guard the pass. All right now, Mr. Michael Teleki!"

Then he also took horse. Teleki too hastened back to his levies, and soon the whole host was trotting on in the dark towards Törcsvár.

It was the 19th August, such a silent summer night that not a leaf was stirring. Against the beautiful starry sky rose the majestic snowy Alps which encircle Transylvania within their mighty chain; everything was still, only now and then through the melancholy night resounded the din and bustle of the warriors hurrying towards Törcsvár.

Here in the mountain-chasm a wide opening is visible which presently contracts so much that two carriages can scarce advance along it abreast. The road goes deep down between two rocks, and if a few hundred resolute and determined men planted themselves in that place, they could hold it against the largest armies.

On the other side of Moldavia, looking downwards, could be seen the camp-fires of the hosts of Tököly, who was encamped on the farther side of the Alps, occupying a vast extent of ground.

In front all was dark. After the first surprise caused by some hundreds of dragoons who had penetrated into Moldavia, the Szeklers had quickly blocked the pass by felling trees across it, retired to the mountain summits, and received the advancing Tartars with such showers of stones that they were compelled to desist from any further advance and turn back again.

Great commotion was observable in the Turkish camp. The Tartars were roasting a whole ox on a huge spit, and cut pieces off it while it was roasting; some jovial Wallachians, a little elated by wine, began dancing their national dances; on a hill the Hungarian hussars were blaring their farogatos, whose penetrating voices frequently pierced the most distant recess of the snowy Alps.

But just because the camp had begun making merry the outposts had been carefully disposed. The leaders of the host were youths in age but veterans in military experience; they were keeping watch for everyone.

They met as they were going their rounds and, without observing it, strayed somewhat from the camp and advanced without a word along a mountain path.

At last Feriz broke the silence by remarking gravely to Tököly:

"Is it not desperating to see a mountain before you and not be able to fly?"

"Especially when your desires are on the other side of that mountain."

"What are your desires?" said Feriz bitterly, "in comparison with mine; you have only a thirst for glory, I have a thirst for blood."

"But mine is a still stronger impulse," said Tököly; "I have a wife."

"Ah! I understand, and you want to see your wife? I also should like to see her if I am not slain. And is the lady worthy of you?"

"One must have lived very far from this kingdom not to have heard of her," said Tököly proudly. "My name has not given such glory to Helen as her name has to me. When everyone in Hungary laid down their arms, and I myself fled from the kingdom, she herself remained in the fortress of Munkács and defended it as valiantly as any man could do. Helen stood like a man upon the bastions amidst the whirring of the bullets and the thunder of the guns, extinguished the bombs cast into the fortress with huge moistened buffalo-skins, fired off the cannons against the besiegers with her own hands, and cut down the soldiers who attempted to storm the walls, spiked their guns, and burnt their tents."

At this Feriz grew enthusiastic.

"We will save this brave woman; is she still defending herself?"

"No. My chief confidant—a man whom I trusted would carry out my ideas, a man whom I found a beggar and made a gentleman—betrayed her, and they now hold her captive. Believe me, Feriz, if they gave her back to me I would perchance for ever forget my dream of glory and renounce the crown I seek, but to win her back I'll go through hell itself, and you will see that I shall go through this mountain chain also, for though I have not the strength to fly over it, I have the patience to crawl over it."

Feriz Beg sighed gloomily.

"Alas! I have no one for whose sake I might hasten into battle."

Early next morning Tököly came over to Feriz's quarters and told him that he had just received tidings that Heissler had arrived during the night, having galloped without stopping through Szent Peter to Törcsvár. Teleki, too, was with him.

That name seemed to electrify the young Turk.

He leapt quickly from his couch, and, seizing his sword, raised it towards Heaven and cried with a savage expression which had never been on his face before: "I thank thee, Allah, that thou hast delivered him into my hands!"

The two young generals then consulted together in private for about an hour, after sending everyone out of their tent. Then they came forth and reviewed their forces. Feriz selected his best Janissaries and Spahis, Tököly the Hungarian hussars and the swiftest of the Tartars, and with this little army, numbering about six thousand, they marched off without saying whither. The vast camp meanwhile was intrusted to the care of the Prince of Moldavia, who was charged to stand face to face night and day over against the Transylvanian army, and not move from the spot.

Meanwhile the two young leaders, with their picked band, made their way among the hills by the dark, sylvan mountain paths, whose wilderness no human foot had ever yet trod. Anyone looking down upon them from the rocks above would have called their enterprise foolhardy. Now they had to crawl down precipitous slopes on their hands and knees; now gigantic rocks barred their way, which enclosed them within a narrow, mountainous gorge whence there was no exit; here and there they had to cling on to the roots of the stout shrubs growing out of the crevices of the rocks, or pull themselves up, man by man, and horse by horse, by means of ropes fastened to the trunks of trees. In these regions nought dwelt but savage birds of prey, and the startled golden eagle looked down in wonder from his stony lair at the panting, toiling host—what did such a multitude of men seek in that desolate wilderness?

The Transylvanian gentlemen from the vantage-point of a lofty mountain ridge watched the two opposing hosts facing each other in front of the defiles. Now the Szeklers would burst forth from the woods on the straying Tartars and drive them back to their tents, and now like a disturbing swarm of wasps the Tartars and Wallachians would force the Szeklers back to the very borders of the forest. It was great fun to watch all this from the lofty ridge where stood Heissler, Doria, and Teleki observing the manly sport through long telescopes.

Suddenly the sentinels brought to Heissler a Wallachian who had given the pickets to understand that he had brought a message from the Prince of Wallachia to the commander-in-chief.

"No doubt it is to tell you once more not to go into Wallachia again, for the enemy has eaten it up," said Teleki, turning to Heissler, who had got to the bottom of the Prince's former craftiness. "What is your master's message?" he said, turning towards the Wallachian.

"He sends his respects, and bids you be on your guard against Tököly, for he has a large army and is very crafty; but instead of opposing him in the direction of Wallachia you would do better if you saw to it that he did not break into Transylvania, and you ought to beware of this all the more as only three days ago he departed from the main host along with his chief Sirdar, with a picked army of six thousand men, which has since vanished as completely as if the earth had swallowed it up."

"What did I say?" remarked Heissler, with a smile to Teleki. "You may go back, my son, from whence you came," he said to the Szekler.

But Teleki shook his head at this.

"It is quite possible," said he, "that while we are halting here, Tököly may issue forth somewhere behind our very backs."

Heissler pointed at the snow-capped mountains.

"Can anything but a bird get through those?"

"If Tököly lead the way—yes."

"Your Excellency has a great respect for that gentleman."

"Truly, Mr. General, I should advise you to summon hither the regiments left at the iron gate, and bring up some more cannons."

Heissler did not even reply, but beckoned to him to be silent.

At that instant a wild yell suddenly struck upon the ear of the general, and looking back towards Zernyest he saw a large column of smoke rising heavenwards, while the outposts came galloping up towards the camp.

"What is that?"

"Tököly has got through the mountains!" was the terrifying report, "the Tartars have burnt Toháir and plundered the camp."

"To horse, to arms, every man!" roared Heissler, and drawing his sword leaped upon his horse. Doria, Noscher, and Magni quickly marshalled their squadrons, Macskári quickly got together his squadrons, and descended into the plain.

They had scarce got into battle array when they were joined by the boyar Balacsán, the refugee Moldavian nobleman, who kept on foot two regiments of the Hungarians and Wallachians at his own expense.

The cry of the ravaging Tartars was now audible close at hand in the village of Toháir, which was blazing away under the very eyes of the Transylvanian hosts. Balacsán's soldiers, eager for the fray, begged leave of Heissler to drive them from the village, and rushing upon them with a wild yell, quickly drove the Tartars back through the burning streets; while Heissler, with the main body of the army, galloped towards Zernyest with the greatest haste. He also succeeded in occupying it before Tököly had reached it.

Here the soldiers rested after their tiring gallop. Heissler distributed wine and brandy among them, then marshalled them, and sent to the front the military chaplains. Two Jesuits, crucifix in hand, confessed all the German soldiers, and the Rev. Mr. Gernyeszeg preached a pious discourse to the Calvinists.

Meanwhile Tököly's army had advanced upon Zernyest. On one side of him were the snowy Alps, on the other a reed-grown morass, which in the hot days of August was quite dried up and could easily be crossed.

As soon as the Szeklers saw the Turks, with their characteristic pigheadedness they seized their pikes and would have rushed upon them with their usual war-cry: "Jesus! Help, Jesus! Help!"

Their leaders drove them back by beating them with their sword-blades, and exhausted the whole vocabulary of abuse and condemnation before they could prevent them prematurely from beginning the battle.

Teleki meanwhile summoned to his side his trusty servant, and as he was dressed in a black habit—for they were still in mourning for the Prince—with few jewels on it, he detached his diamond aigrette and gold chain, and adding his signet-ring to them, gave them to the servant that he might take them before the battle to Gernyeszeg, and give them to his daughter, Dame Michael Vay.

The old servant would have asked why he did this, but Teleki turned away from him and beckoned him to go away.

Then he had his favourite charger, Kálmán, brought forth, and after stroking its neck tenderly, trotted off to the front of his forces and addressed them in these words:

"My brave Transylvanians, now is the time to fight together valiantly for glory and liberty in the service of his Imperial Majesty in order to deliver our country, our wives and children, from Turkish bondage and the tyranny of that evil ally of theirs, Tököly, for otherwise you and your descendants have nought but eternal slavery to expect. Grieve not for me if I, your general, fall on the field of battle. Behold, I bring my white beard among you, and am ready to die."

While he was saying these words his adjutant, Macskári, came to him and began to explain that the Transylvanians had been placed in the rear and were grumbling loudly at having been so set aside.

On hearing this Teleki at once galloped up to Heissler.

"Sir," said he, "you are a bad judge of the Hungarian temperament in warfare if you place them in the rear; the Szekler, in particular, has a great aptitude for the assault, but don't expect help from him if you keep him waiting in the rear till the front ranks are broken."

Generals, on the eve of a battle are, very naturally, somewhat impatient of advice, especially if it be delivered by a civilian. Heissler therefore snubbed the minister somewhat unmercifully, whereupon Teleki galloped back to his men without saying another word.

Meanwhile the Turkish army had slowly begun to move; on the left wing a regiment of Tartars stealthily entered the reeds of the morass and began to surround the right wing of the Transylvanians; but their experienced general, perceiving their approach from the undulatory movement of the reed-stalks, speedily ordered Doria to advance against them with six squadrons of dragoons, whereupon Teleki also sent thirteen regiments of Szeklers against them under Michael Henter, and soon the two stealthily crouching hosts could be seen in collision. The Szeklers, with a wild yell, rushed upon the Tartars, who turned tail after the first onset, and fled still deeper among the reeds. Doria pursued them everywhere, the discharge of the artillery fired the reeds in several places, and they began to burn over the heads of the combatants.

At that moment Tököly suddenly blew the trumpets and advanced into the plain with thirty-two squadrons, who rushed upon the foe with a sky-rending howl. There was a roll of musketry as the assailants drew near, and nine of the thirty-two squadrons bit the dust, hundreds of riders fell from their horses.

But the rest did not turn back as they used to do. Feriz Beg was leading them, they saw his sword flashing in front of them, and felt sure of victory.

At the moment of the firing a bullet had struck the youth in the breast; but he regarded it not, he only saw Teleki before him, dressed in black. He recognised him from afar, and galloped straight towards him.

Beneath the savage assault of the Turkish horsemen the German dragoons gave way in a moment, their ranks were scattered; against the slim darts of the Spahis and the light csakanyis of the hussars the straight sword and the heavy cuirass were but a poor defence. The first line was cast back upon the second, and when General Noscher was struck down by a dart in the forehead, the centre also was broken.

The Szeklers simply looked on at the battle from the rear.

"What think you, comrades," they said to one another, "if they only brought us here to look on, wouldn't it be better to look on from yonder hill?"

And with that they shouldered their pikes, and without doing the slightest harm to the Turks, went off in a body.

The cavalry, who still had some stomach in them, on perceiving the flight of the infantry, also suddenly lost heart, and giving their horses the reins, scampered off in every direction.

Heissler thus was left alone on the battle-field, and up to the last moment strenuously endeavoured to retrieve the fortunes of the day. All in vain. Balacsán fell before his very eyes on the left wing, and shortly afterwards, General Magni staggered towards him scarce recognisable, for he had a fearful slash right across his head, which covered his face with blood, and his left arm was pierced by a dart. It was not about himself that he was anxious, however, for he grasped Heissler's bridle and dragged him away.

Heissler, full of desperation, fought against his own men, who carried him from the field by force. At last he reached the top of a hillock and, looking back, perceived one division still fighting on the battlefield. It was the picked division of Doria who, in its pursuit of the Tartars, had been cut off from the rest of the army, and seeing that it was isolated had hastily formed into a square and stood against the whole of the victorious host, fighting obstinately and refusing to surrender. This was too much for Heissler. He tore himself loose from his escort, and returned alone to the battlefield. A few stray horsemen followed him, and he tried to cut his way to Doria through the intervening hussars.

A tall and handsome cavalier intercepted him.

"Surrender, general, it is no shame to you. I am Emeric Tököly."

Heissler returned no answer but galloped straight at him, and, whirling his sword above his head, aimed a blow at the Hungarian leader.

Tököly called to those around him to stand back. Alone he fought against so worthy an enemy till a violent blow broke in twain the sword of the German general, and he was obliged to surrender.

Meanwhile Doria's division was overborne by superior forces; he himself fell beneath his horse, which was shot under him, and was taken prisoner.

The rest fled.

Michael Teleki fled likewise, trusting in his good steed Kálmán. He heard behind him the cries of his pursuers; there was one form in particular that he did not wish to have behind him, and it seemed to Teleki as if he were about to see this form.

This was the chief sirdar, Feriz Beg. Mortally wounded though he was, he did not forget his mortal anger, and though his blood flowed in streams, he still felt strength enough in his arm to shed the blood of his enemy.

Suddenly Michael directed his flight towards a field of wheat, when his horse stumbled and fell with him.

Here Feriz Beg overtook the minister, and whirling around his sword, exclaimed:

"That blow is from Denis Banfy!"

Teleki raised his sword to defend himself, but at that name his hand shook and he received a slash across the face, whereupon his sword fell from his hand; but he still held his hand before his streaming eyes and only heard these words:

"This blow is for Paul Béldi! This blow is for the children of Paul Béldi! This blow is for Transylvania!"

That last blow was the heaviest of all!

Teleki sank down on the ground a corpse.

Feriz Beg gazed upwards with a look of transport, sighed deeply, and then drooped suddenly over his horse's neck. He was dead.

Next day when they found Teleki among the slain, and brought him to Tököly, the young Prince cried:

"Heh! bald head! bald head! if you had never lived in Transylvania so much blood would not have flowed here."

Thus the prophecy of Magyari was fulfilled.

Then Tököly ordered the naked, plundered corpse to be clothed in garments of his own and sent to his widow at Görgéncy.

In exchange for the captured generals, Heissler and Doria, Tököly got back his wife Helen. This was his greatest gain from the war.

Both of them now sleep far away from their native land in the valley of Nicomedia.

THE END.

Jarrold and Sons, Limited, The Empire Press, Norwich.

Dr. Maurus Jókai's Novels

The Green Book

Black Diamonds

Pretty Michal

The Lion of Janina

A Hungarian Nabob

Dr. Dumany's Wife

The Poor Plutocrats

The Nameless Castle

Debts of Honor

The Day of Wrath

Eyes Like the Sea

Halil the Pedlar (The White Rose)

'Midst the Wild Carpathians

The Slaves of the Padishah.