The face of Teleki darkened at the sight, while the faces of all who surrounded him were suddenly illuminated by an indescribable joy, and their enthusiasm burst forth in eljens of such penetrating enthusiasm at the sight of the young hero that Teleki felt himself near to fainting.
Ah! it was in a very different voice that they had recently cried "Viva!" to him, it was a very different sort of smile with which they had been wont to greet him.
Meanwhile Tököly had reached the front of the marshalled Turkish army, which was drawn up in two rows right up to the pavilion of the Grand Vizier, allowing the youth and his suite to pass through between them amidst a ceremonious abasement of their horse-tail banners. The young general had only passed half through their ranks when the Grand Vizier came to meet him in a state carriage drawn by six white horses.
From the hill on which Teleki stood he could see everything quite plainly.
On reaching the carriage of the Grand Vizier, Tököly leaped quickly from his horse, whereupon Kara Mustafa also descended from his carriage, and, hastening to the young general, embraced him and kissed him repeatedly on the forehead, made him take a seat in the carriage beside him, and thus conveyed him to his tent amidst joyful acclamations.
Teleki had to look on at all this! That was very different from the reception accorded to him and the Prince of Transylvania.
He looked around him—gladness, a radiant smile shone on every face. Oh! those smiles were so many dagger-thrusts in his heart!
In half an hour's time Tököly emerged from the tent of the Grand Vizier. His head was encircled by a diamond diadem which the Sultan had sent for all the way to Belgrade, and in his hand was a princely sceptre. When he remounted and galloped away close beside the tents of the Transylvanians, the Hungarians in Teleki's company could restrain themselves no longer, but rushed towards Tököly and covered his hands, his feet, his garments, with kisses, took him from his horse on to their shoulders, and carried him in their arms back to camp.
Teleki could endure the sight no more; he fled into his tent, and, throwing himself on his camp-bedstead, wept like a child.
The whole edifice which he had reared so industriously, so doggedly, amidst innumerable perils, during the arduous course of a long life—for which he had sacrificed relations, friends, and all the great and wise men of a kingdom, and pledged away the repose of his very soul—had suddenly collapsed at the appearance of a mere youth, whose only merit was the exaggerated fame of a few successful engagements! It was the heaviest blow he had ever staggered under. Oh! Fortune is indeed ingenious in her disappointments.