The worthy gentleman, who rejoiced in the possession of a really redoubtable corporation, standing there, clean shaven and benignly smiling, presented an amiably ludicrous figure, of which only an Hungarian, or one who knows what a severe criterion of the human figure the tight-fitting Magyar costume really is, can form any idea. Add to this that the worthy Frenchman, in his stiff hose and spurred jack-boots, moved about as gingerly as if he feared every moment to fall on his nose. He had also forgotten to buckle on his girdle, which lent a peculiar quaintness to his general get-up, and his long bag-wig, in which he looked like a lion, was surmounted by a tiny round cap from which waved a gigantic heron plume. Apafi did not see why he too should not smile when the others laughed. Monsieur Reverend, with that facility peculiar to Frenchmen of coupling gaiety with solemnity, tripped at once up to the Prince and said-- "Your Highness's persistent refusal to receive me made me assume that perchance I did not present myself becomingly attired, and my present good-fortune demonstrates the correctness of my assumption, for the moment I present myself in Magyar costume I am lucky enough to behold you." "Parbleu, Monsieur!" returned Apafi, repressing his merriment with difficulty, "I am always glad to see you on condition that politics are banished from our discourse. But you have not fastened on your scarf, and without the scarf a person in the Magyar dress looks for all the world like a Frenchman who has forgotten to put on his breeches." With these words the Prince produced a scarf adorned with gems, and tied it with his own hands round the respectable waist of Monsieur Reverend. "And what's this? Who taught you to stuff your pocket-handkerchief into your trousers pocket? Only heydukes do that. What the deuce! A nobleman always keeps his pocket-handkerchief in his kalpag. So! Hem! What a beautiful pocket-handkerchief you've got!" "Splendid, is it not?" "Indeed it is! A garland pattern in silk thread, with gold and silver embroideries at the corners. Only Paris can produce the like of this." "And yet it was manufactured in Transylvania." "You don't say so?" "Yes; and what is more, in this very place, in Ebesfalva." Apafi looked at Monsieur Reverend with amazement. "And I not to know the artistic hands which work such beautiful things!" "But your Highness does know them. The name of the fair artist will be found embroidered in gorgeous Gothic letters on the hem of the handkerchief." Apafi carefully examined all the corners of the handkerchief one after the other. Each had a different device embroidered on it--here a wreath of oak-leaves, there a trophy, in the third a Turkish scimitar, an Hungarian sabre, and a French sword bound together by a ribbon. At last he came to the fourth corner, where, beneath a princely coronet, was embroidered the word _Apafiné_.[27]