"I've already said that we can't accept your invitation." "What! Are you so ill acquainted with my hospitality as not to know that, if necessary, I will carry you off by force? Ha, ha! You must take away with you a reminiscence of Bonczhida. As you know now what my wild animals are like, you must make the acquaintance of my domestic animals also. In any case, I mean to take you by force." "A truce to jesting, Banfi. This is not the place for it." "Methinks 'tis you that jest. I am perfectly serious when I say that I will take you with me even against your will." "We should like to see you do it." "Then see it you shall," and with that Banfi blew on his horn, and instantly armed squadrons poured forth from every corner of the wood. Count Csaky and his merry men were completely surrounded. "Ha! this is treachery!" cried Csaky wildly. "Oh dear, no! 'Tis only a little carnival jest," replied Banfi, laughing. "This time 'tis the quarry which captures the huntsmen. Forward, comrades! Take these gentlemen's horses by the bridles, and follow me with them to Bonczhida. If any one stands upon ceremony, tie his legs to the stirrups." "I protest against this compulsion," cried Csaky furiously. "I take you all to witness that I enter my protest against this act of violence." "I for my part call every one to witness," repeated Banfi, laughing, "that I've invited these gentlemen to a banquet in the most friendly manner in the world." "I protest! 'Tis violence." "Nonsense! 'Tis a merry jest. 'Tis Hungarian hospitality!" Some of the gentlemen laughed, others swore. As however Banfi had numbers on his side, the Csakyites sulkily and wrathfully submitted at last to their jocose tyrant, and allowed themselves to be conducted to Bonczhida, though Csaky stopped every one he met on the road, and took them to witness that Banfi was doing him violence, while Banfi laughingly endeavoured to make it plain to the good people that the worthy gentleman was a trifle fuddled, and that they were playing a harmless little practical joke upon him. "You will live to bitterly rue this!" cried Csaky, gnashing his teeth, and half beside himself with rage. As they were passing through a village, one of Csaky's company, a young nobleman, whom his friends called Szantho, broke away from the crowd and vanished before he could be overtaken. "Let him go to the devil!" cried Banfi gaily. "We will manage to be merry without him, eh! my lord Ladislaus Csaky?" Gradually Csaky recovered his sangfroid, and his wrath seemed to abate; indeed, by the time they reached Bonczhida he wore a radiantly smiling countenance, for he was well aware that it would be indecent as well as ridiculous to pull wry faces before ladies. He therefore allowed himself to be presented to Dames Apafi and Banfi as a chance guest picked up on the way, without the least show of ill-humour.