"I'll remain here even if you kill me, for 'tis a matter of life or death. When the peace of my family is at stake, I think 'tis time for me to speak. I beg, I implore you to hear me. I'll not allow you to sacrifice Banfi."
Beldi was already so ashamed of this onslaught on his marital authority that he was nearly beside himself; but when his wife began to plead for Banfi, he started back as if an adder had bitten him.
This did not escape Teleki, and with malicious innuendo he exclaimed—
"It seems to me that wives forget some things much sooner than their husbands."
Quick as lightning the dart pierced through Beldi's soul. The recollection of that kiss came back to him. Pale and speechless, he seized his wife's arm; her loud sobs only inflamed his jealousy, and dragging her to the tapestried door, he pushed her out and closed it behind her. There she remained, lying on the threshold, loudly cursing the Prince's minister, and hammering at the closed door with her fists.
Beldi, pale as death, sat down at the table, gnashed his teeth, and whispered huskily—
"Where's the document?"
Teleki spread out the parchment roll before him on the table.
Beldi took up his pen without a word, and wrote his name in a bold hand beneath that of Michael Apafi.
A triumphant smile played around Teleki's lips.