He had eyes and ears neither for the coronation nor for the sermon, but kept on thinking of his wife and child. What would become of them, poor creatures; where would they be able to hide their heads when John Kemeny had put him in prison, confiscated his estates, and driven them out of house and home? It next occurred to him that, somewhere in Szeklerland, he had a brother, Stephen Apafi, with whom he had always been on the most friendly terms, who would certainly take them under his roof if he saw them destitute. These thoughts made him so forgetful of everything around him, that when at the close of the sermon all present arose and intoned the Te Deum, he too got up, oblivious of the fact that all this ceremony was being held in his special honour.
Then some one behind him placed two hands on his shoulders, pressed him down into his seat again, and a well-known voice growled into his ear—
"Keep your seat."
Apafi looked in the direction of the voice, and fell back in his chair completely overcome. His brother Stephen was actually standing behind him.
"You here too?" said Apafi, deeply distressed.
"I was a little late," returned Stephen, "but quite early enough after all, and I'll venture to remain here till you tell me to go."
"So you have also resolved to plunge into destruction?"
"Brother," said Stephen, "we are in the hands of God; but something has been put into our own hands also which may have a say in the matter," and he touched the hilt of his sword. "Kemeny has lost the affection of the greater part of the country; why I need not now tell you. Your cause is righteous, nor do you lack the means of success."
"But if it should turn out otherwise, what would become of my wife? Have you not seen her?"