But now the reverend gentlemen intervened, the bells rang, the bridesmaids and the best men took possession of the bride and bridegroom, the ceremony began, and nobody thought any more of the circumstance, except, perhaps, two damsels, whose hearts had been pricked by the thoughtless pleasantry, one of them as by the thorn of a rose, the other as by the sting of a serpent.
And now, while for the next hour and a half the marriage ceremony, with the assistance of the Most Reverend Patriarch, the Venerable Archdeacon, three-and-thirty reverend gentlemen of the lower clergy, and just as many secular dignitaries, is solemnly and religiously proceeding, we will remain behind in the ante-chamber, and be indiscreet enough to worm out the contents of the two well-sealed letters which have just been brought in hot haste from Kronstadt for Emeric Tököly by a special courier, who stamped his foot angrily when he was told that he must wait till the Count came out of church.
One of the letters was from Michael Teleki, and its contents pretty much as follows:—
"My dear Sir and Son,
"Our affairs are in the best possible order. During the last few days our army, 9,000 strong, quitting Gyulafehervár, has gone to await Achmed Pasha's forces near Déva, and will thence proceed to unite with Kiuprile's host. War, indeed, is inevitable; and Transylvania must be gloriously in the forefront of it. Do not linger where you are, but try and overtake us. It would be superfluous for me to remind you to take charge of my daughter Flora on the way. God bless you.
"Michael Teleki.
"Datum Albæ Juliæ.
"P.S.—Her Highness the Princess awaits a safe delivery from the mercy of God. His Highness the Prince has just finished a very learned dissertation on the orbits of the planets."
The second letter was in a fine feminine script, but one might judge from it that that hand knew how to handle a sword as well as a pen.
It was to the following effect:—