"Bravely spoken! But the Prince, weary of so much discord, and somewhat fearful besides, has resolved to amnesty Zolyomi and allow him to return." "In God's name let him do so then!" "Right, quite right! But your lordship knows very well that Zolyomi's estates are now in your lordship's possession; the Prince therefore finds himself compelled to request your lordship to surrender these estates to the returning Zolyomi, if it would not greatly inconvenience your lordship." Nalaczi had been a little too curt in the delivery of his message, although he had done his best to sugar it with respectful epithets. "What!" cried Banfi, stepping back, "do you really suppose that I will give up these estates? The Diet gave them to me with the onerous condition of equipping at my own cost twelve regiments for the defence of the country. That onerous condition I have faithfully fulfilled, and now you fancy that I shall surrender the estates merely because there is to be one fool the more in the land? Preposterous!" "But if the Prince wishes it!" "I'll not give them up whoever wishes it." "And that is the answer I'm to take back?" "You'll please take back these two words," said Banfi, emphasizing each syllable--"I won't!" "Your most obedient servant," said Nalaczi, and with an ironical obeisance he turned upon his heel. "Servus," replied Banfi contemptuously, as if he were throwing a bone to a dog; and then he looked out into the corridor, and seeing some of his vassals waiting there, hat in hand, roughly asked them what they wanted. When the good people saw that their liege lord was in a villainous humour, they held back, but the steward pushed them in. "We ought to have brought the tithes," began the oldest peasant, with a whining voice and downcast eyes, "but it was impossible." "Why?" "Because we have nothing, my lord. There has been no rain; the crops are a failure; we have not even seed enough to sow our fields. In the village the people are living on chance roots and fungus, and when these are all gone, God only knows what will become of us." "Look now," cried Banfi, "another visitation of God, and yet we must needs have a war to boot! Steward, open at once the demesne granaries, and distribute seed to the vassals, that they may sow their fields. See too that the poor people have enough corn to feed them through the winter." The poor peasants would have kissed Banfi's hands, but he would not suffer it. A tear stood in his eye. "For what am I your lord if not to lighten your burdens when you are in need? My stewards will carry out my orders. If my own storehouses fall short, you shall have corn for ready money from Moldavia." And with that he retired into the adjoining chamber. * * * * * Banfi's wife with a beating heart heard his familiar footsteps drawing nearer.