Historical fiction; Hungarian fiction -- Translations into English; Transylvania (Romania) -- History -- Fiction
He did not perceive that at that moment the door opened and some one
entered; he only saw that his wife's agonized countenance was suddenly
distorted by an unspeakably painful smile. A forced smile on those
convulsed features was something too terrible. Banfi thought at first
that his wife had gone mad.
The next instant Dame Banfi rose impetuously from her chair, and
exclaiming, "Anna! my darling Anna!" rushed towards the door.
It was then that Banfi turned round, and saw before him Anna Bornemissa,
the consort of Michael Apafi. That lady's sharp eyes instantly detected
the agitation of the consorts, though they both did their best to hide
it, and not without success. But she made as though she saw nothing, and
drawing Margaret to her breast, kindly held out her hand to Banfi.
"I heard your voices outside," said she, "so I came in without waiting
to be announced."
"Ah, yes ... we were ... laughing," said Dame Banfi, covertly wiping her
eyes with the corner of her pocket-handkerchief.
"And to what circumstances do we owe this extraordinary piece of good
fortune?" asked Banfi, concealing his embarrassment behind an
exaggerated courtesy.
"As you did not bring my sister to see me," returned the Princess, with
a reproachful smile, "I thought I would just visit my poor exiled
Hungarian kinswoman myself."
Banfi felt the sting of these last words, and murmured as he stroked his
beard--
"Here my fair sister-in-law may do with me what she will. She may make
me the butt of her sparkling wit; she may overwhelm me with her playful
sallies. In the Hall of the Diet, before the throne of the Prince, we
stand, face to face, as foes; but here you may command me, here I am
only your most devoted servant, who delights to do homage to your
charms, and is beside himself for joy to have you as his guest."
With these words Banfi embraced the majestic lady with easy familiarity;
then, turning to his wife, added, not without a touch of malice--
"I hope you will not be jealous of Anna?"
The Princess hastened to reply instead of Margaret.
"Methinks you fear me too much to make love to me."
"I might perhaps if you were my wife. Yet we were near being wedded
once. There was a time when I wanted to make you my bride."
"But it went no further than wishing," returned the Princess, laughing.
"We soon learned to know each other," continued Banfi. "There would have
been no room in one house for two such heads as ours, which find one
realm too small to hold them both. We both of us love to rule. We should
have been hard put to it if one had been obliged to obey the other.
Things fell out for the best. We have found our corresponding
halves--you Apafi; I Margaret--and we are both contented."
With these words Banfi tenderly kissed his wife's hand and departed,
leaving the sisters alone.
Anna, with noble gravity, placed her hand on the shoulder of her sister,
who looked up to her with a soft smile like an innocent child regarding
its guardian angel.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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