Historical fiction; Hungarian fiction -- Translations into English; Transylvania (Romania) -- History -- Fiction
Suddenly she observed through the open door that the passage was filled
with armed men, whereupon her presence of mind seemed instantly and
completely to return. She grasped at once the tremendous significance of
the moment, and when Daczo, gnashing his teeth, again asked her where
Banfi was, she bounded from her chair, ran to the door which separated
her husband's chamber from her own, turned the key quickly round, and
screamed with all her might--
"Banfi! Save yourself! They seek your life!"
Daczo ran forward to stop her mouth and snatch the key from her; but
with singular presence of mind Lady Banfi had, in the meantime, thrown
the key into the heart of the red-hot embers, and cried again--
"Fly, Banfi! Your enemies are here!"
Daczo tried to pick the key out of the fire, and burnt his fingers very
badly in the attempt, whereupon, still more furious, he rushed upon the
lady sword in hand to cut her down, but Kornis held him back.
"Softly, sir! We have no orders to kill the woman, nor would it be
worthy of us; let us try rather to burst open the door as quickly as
possible," and with that they both pressed their shoulders against the
door, Daczo cursing and swearing, and calling upon all the devils in
hell to help him, while Lady Banfi on her knees prayed God to allow her
husband to escape.
* * * * *
Banfi had gone to sleep at the same time as his wife. He too had had a
tormenting dream. He fancied he was in prison, and the moment he heard
Margaret's shriek, he sprang in terror from his couch, tore open the
window of the pavilion, and without thinking what he was doing, leaped
into the garden at a single bound. He looked hurriedly about him. The
house was surrounded by armed Szeklers, and the rear of the garden was
bounded by a broad ditch filled with greenish rain-water. Amongst the
masses of infantry stood here and there a group of grooms, holding by
the bridles the chargers from which their masters had just dismounted.
Banfi had very little time for reflection, nor did he need much. Under
cover of the darkness, he rushed swiftly upon the nearest groom, gave
him a buffet which brought the blood in streams from his nose and mouth,
sprang upon one of the vacant horses, and struck the spurs into its
flanks.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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