"Well, then, call these men, Run, Daczo, and Nalaczy, if you think they are honest folk."
Apafi began to scratch his head. "But suppose they came, where should we hold the convention? we have no suitable place. In Klausenburg my brother-in-law, Dionysius Banfy, is my sworn foe, and he is captain of the train bands. In Hermanstadt John Kemény himself lives."
"Certainly we have Klein-Selyk, we can assemble here." In spite of his distress, Apafi had to laugh. "There is not a house here where thirty men could find room at the same time," he answered, quickly.
"Yes there is, there is the church," replied the Pasha, "there you can hold your meeting. If that building is good enough to pay one's respects to God in, surely it is good enough to pay one's respects to men in."
Apafi did not know what further objection to urge. "Can you write?" asked the Pasha.
"To be sure I can," answered Apafi, sighing deeply.
"Because I can't. Well then, sit down and send your summons to the states."
A slave brought a table, parchment, and red ink. Apafi sat down like a lamb for the sacrifice, and by way of beginning made a letter on the parchment so large that the Turk sprang up in fright and asked him what that meant.
"That is an S," answered Apafi.
"Leave some space for the rest of the letters."