At this bitter jest Azrael hissed like a snake upon whose tail one has suddenly trodden, whilst Csaky blushed up to his ears and tried hard to smile. "Does your Excellency desire any favour from me?" asked Csaky presently, with insulting commiseration. "None from _your_ Excellency. I came here of my own free will, and have been arrested I know not why. My wife, therefore, can now be set free." "So at last we begin to whine for our wife, eh?" "On the contrary. So far from wishing to meet her, I desire that as soon as I am put in prison she should be let go." "It shall be as you desire, my lord!" replied Csaky, with ironical benevolence. Banfi requited him with a look of the most withering contempt, and turning to the jailers entered into conversation with them: the magnates he no longer regarded. * * * * * When Teleki heard of the capture of Banfi, he ordered him to be sent at once to Bethlen Castle, to make the world believe that the anti-Banfi faction was headed, not by him, but by Beldi, to whom the castle belonged. On his way thither, the captive magnate learnt that his consort had already been released, and thus relieved of his one remaining anxiety, cared little for the rest. On reaching Bethlen Castle he was received by the Rev. Stephen Pataky, Rector of Klausenburg, to whom he cried jocosely-- "So they've appointed you my father confessor, eh?" Pataky wept bitterly, but Banfi only smiled. The jailer conducted Banfi up the steps with every demonstration of respect. Banfi turned round to him. "I hope you will let Reverend Master Pataky remain with me all the time?" said he. Pataky was understood to say through his sobs-- "Truly your Excellency will find far better company awaiting you than any my poor self can offer." Banfi, not knowing what to say to this, only shrugged his shoulders and hastened towards the door of his prison, but remained standing on the threshold transfixed with astonishment. In the room was a lady in deep mourning, who turned very pale on perceiving him, and clung to the table unable to utter a word. Banfi felt all his blood rush to his heart. The next moment he darted impetuously forward and cried-- "My wife! Margaret!" The lady threw herself upon her husband's breast and sobbed aloud. "What! have they not released you?" inquired Banfi anxiously. "I would not be released," answered Margaret. "How _could_ I forsake you in your prison?" The tears came to Banfi's eyes. Speechless he sank to the ground, and covered her hands with glowing kisses. "While we were what the world calls happy we might avoid each other," said Margaret, with a choking voice, "but misfortune has brought us together again," and she bowed her head to kiss her husband's forehead. Banfi fell senseless at her feet. It was more than even his strong soul could bear. CHAPTER X. THE SENTENCE.