"Where are the noble lords now?"
"Oh, my gracious lord, some have gone in one way and some in another."
"What do you mean? Where have they gone?"
"When they found that your Grace had left Klausenburg, they scattered to the four winds."
Banfy turned pale.
"And Michael Angyal?"
"He was the first to hurry away."
Banfy felt a dizziness seize him; tears stood in his eyes. Thus to be deserted by all, by man, by fate and even by his own consciousness! What was left to him of all his power! whither should he turn? what should he plan? every way was closed to him. He could neither use the sword nor fight with the arm of the law, nor flee. Mechanically he allowed his horse to carry him on. With gloomy face he sat in his saddle, staring vacantly at the ground and at the clouds. In heaven, on earth even as in his own heart, all was desolate. Nowhere did he find a place of refuge. The one passion of his soul, which had entirely filled it, was pride. Now that this was gone the world was empty. He rode on and on wherever his horse took him. Before him stretched out great forests. He thought: "What lies beyond these forests? high mountains; and what beyond those? still higher peaks; and what further? summits of snow—and not a house to offer me refuge." So at the first stroke did everybody turn from him? was the man who the day before had ruled half Transylvania and had castles at his disposal not to find a hut to shelter him that night? was he to be an object of ridicule to his foes and not have the satisfaction of being able to laugh in the hour of death? was he to die ingloriously like a hunted beast? He considered how he could arrange it so that since he must die at least he should not be derided after death.
Gradually an idea began to develop in his mind. With this thought the color came back to his cheeks, and as if strengthening him to a decision he heard an inner voice saying:
"Yes, thither, thither."