The Slaves of the Padishah

by Mór Jókai

"Gracious sirs," continued Béldi, "we do not wish you to be wrath with the Prince for the tears and the blood that have been shed; we only ask you to provide the Prince with better counsellors than those by whom he is now surrounded, binding them by oath to satisfy the nation and the Grand Seignior, for none will break such an oath lightly and with impunity; and these new counsellors will constrain him to be a better father to those who remain in the country than he was to us."

When Béldi had finished, Maurocordato came forward, took his place between the speaker and the Grand Vizier, and began to interpret the words of Béldi.

At the concluding words the face of the interpreter flushed brightly, his resonant, sonorous voice filled the room, his soul, catching the expression of his face, changed with his changing feelings. Where Béldi calmly and resignedly had described his sufferings, the voice of the interpreter was broken and tremulous. Where Béldi had sketched the future in a voice of solemn conviction, Maurocordato assumed a tone of prophetic inspiration; and finally, when in words of self-renunciation he appealed for the salvation of his country, his oratory became as penetrating, as bitterly ravishing, as if his speech were the original instead of the copy. Passion in its ancient Greek style, the style of Demosthenes, seemed to have arisen from the dead.

The listening Pashas seemed to have caught the inspiration of his enthusiasm, and bent their heads approvingly. The Grand Vizier contracted his eyelids, puckered up his lips, and hugging his caftan to his breast, began to speak, at the same time gazing around abstractedly with prickling eyes, every moment beating down the look of whomsoever he addressed or glaring scornfully at them. His screeching voice, which he seemed to strain through his lips, produced an unpleasant impression on those who heard it for the first time; while his features, which seemed to express every instant anger, rage, and scorn in an ascending scale, accentuated by the restless pantomime of his withered, tremulous hand, could not but make those of the Magyars who were ignorant of Turkish imagine that the Grand Vizier was atrociously scolding them, and that what he said was nothing but the vilest abuse from beginning to end.

Mr. Ladislaus Csaky, who was standing beside Paul Béldi, plucked his fur mantle and whispered in his ear with a tremulous voice:

"You have ruined us. Why did you not speak more humbly? He is going to impale the whole lot of us."

The Vizier, as usual, concluded his speech with a weary smile, drew back his mocking lips, and exposed his black, stumpy teeth. The heart's blood of the Magyars began to grow cold at that smile.

Then Maurocordato came forward. A gentle smile of encouragement illumined his noble features, and he began to interpret the words of the Grand Vizier: "Worshipful Magyars, be of good cheer. I have compassion on your petition, your righteousness stands before us brighter than the noonday sun, your griefs shall have the fullest remedy. Ye did well to supplicate the garment of the Sublime Sultan; cling fast to the folds of it, and no harm shall befall you. Now depart in peace; if we should require you again, we will send for you."

Everyone breathed more easily. Béldi thanked the Vizier in a few simple sentences, and they prepared to withdraw.

But Ladislaus Csaky, who was much more interested in his Sóva property than in the future of Transylvania, and to whom Béldi's petition, which only sought the salvation of the fatherland, and said nothing about the restitution of confiscated estates, appeared inadequate, scarce waited for his turn to speak, and, what is more, threw himself at the feet of the Vizier, seized one of them, which he embraced, and began to weep tremendously. Indeed, his words were almost unintelligible for his weeping, and Mr. Csaky's oratory was always difficult to understand at the best of times, so that it was no wonder that the Grand Vizier lost his usual phlegm and now began to curse and swear in real earnest; till the other Magyar gentlemen rushed up, tore Csaky away by force, while Maurocordato angrily pushed them all out, and thus put an end to the scandalous scene.