Csaki went away, shocked in spite of himself.
Banfy put his hands to his brow and prayed.
Heavy thunder rolled through the Heavens.
"Oh God, who in thy anger dost thunder above, take my blood for my sins. Let no drop of it fall on the head of those who have shed it. Grant that my country may never expiate my death. Guard this poor land from every misfortune. Keep thy vengeance far from the head of this people and mid all perils be their shield. Forgive my enemies my death as I forgive them."
The thunder rolled terribly. God was angry. He did not wish to hear this prayer.
Banfy went back to his dead wife, kissed her white face for the last time and then went quietly to Csaki.
"I am ready."
After another quarter of an hour Csaki permitted the messenger to enter.
"What do you bring?" he asked the steward.