"Turn back," he cried to the coachman, "and go in the direction of Klausenburg."
The old servant shook his head; turned into a side-path, and so completely lost himself in the darkness of the night, that he was forced to confess to his master that he really did not know where he was.
Beldi's rage and impatience knew no bounds. Looking about him, he perceived a small light burning at no great distance, and sulkily bade his coachman drive in that direction.
It was into the courtyard of a lonely country-house that they rolled at last, and Beldi recognized in the master of the house, who appeared at the barking of the large watch-dogs, old Adam Gyergyai, one of his dearest friends, who, when he saw Beldi, rushed into his arms, and was beside himself with joy.
"God be with you!" said the good old man, covering his guest with kisses. "I will not ask what piece of good fortune has brought you to me."
"To tell the truth, I've lost my way. I was on the road to Klausenburg. I must get there to-night; but I'll rest my horses here for an hour or two if you'll let me."
"What pressing business is this you have on hand?"
"I must deliver a message," replied Beldi evasively.
"If that be all, why so much hurry? Write it down, and one of my mounted servants shall immediately take it to its destination while you remain here."
"You are right," said Beldi, after some reflection; "it will be better to send a letter," and with that he asked for writing materials, sat down, and wrote to Banfi.