Annoyed, Apafi tried to take it from her hand, but he was too late. Anna had unrolled it and as she looked at the tuft-hunting pedigree, cast a reproachful glance at the prince who stood before her with downcast eyes.
"Did you have that drawn up?" she asked him, quietly.
"No indeed!" answered Apafi, quickly. "An impertinent poet brought it to me."
"Throw it into the fire," said his wife, calmly.
"That is what I meant to do. I got rid of the author by means of a few ducats."
"He deserved a thrashing, and not gold," said Anna, angrily; then her features grew gentle again. She looked her husband straight in the eye and said in kindly tone;—"Be strong; be a Prince. Grant protection to the faithful, pardon to those who return in penitence, and scorn to the flatterer."
With these words she bowed low, kissed her husband's hand and was gone before he could reply.
Apafi then sent for those in waiting to return. It was very evident from the expression of their faces as they entered that they thought they might now ask and expect everything good from the Prince, for the happiness of the previous family scene would naturally leave him in a state of mind in which he could not refuse anybody.
Stephen Apafi was the only one cool-headed enough to observe the change in his brother's features during this interval. Genuine princely firmness, dignity and energy seemed now enthroned upon this countenance.
"Faithful comrades," began Apafi in a strong voice without waiting for any one to speak;—"in respect to the requests with which you have approached us, it is our wish to send you away with a just and worthy answer. Your oaths of allegiance we have received with due appreciation and hope you will not cease to remain constant in your loyalty. You, Ladislaus Csaki, we hereby permit to return home to share the peace of the family circle; as for your son we will have him maintained in foreign lands at our expense until he seems fitted for our service."