ained permission to write as seemed
best to him, only the contents were to be decisive and authoritative.

The circular letter was finished at last. The Pasha ordered a man to
mount his horse at once, and gave him instructions to deliver this at
full speed.

Apafi shook his pen and sighed to himself;--"I would like to see the
man who can tell me what will be the result of all this."

"Now, until the convention assembles, stay with me here in camp."

"May I not go back to my wife and child at home?" asked Apafi, with
throbbing heart.

"The devil! That you may run away from us? That is the way all these
Hungarians treat the rank of prince. The men we do not wish lie down
on us and beg for the honor, and those we do wish take to flight." And
with that the Pasha showed Apafi to his tent and left him, at the same
time giving the order to the sentinel stationed at the entrance as a
mark of honor, to be sure not to let him escape.

"He got into a pretty scrape that time!" sighed Apafi, in deep
resignation. The only hope that remained for him now was that the men
summoned would not appear for the convention.

* * * * *

A few days later, in the early morning while Apafi was still in bed,
there entered his tent suddenly Stephen Run, John Daczo and Stephen
Nalaczy, with all the rest of the noble Szeklers to whom the letter
had been sent.

"For God's sake!" cried out Apafi, "what are you here for?"

"Why, your majesty summoned us here," replied Nalaczy.

"That's true, but you might have had the sense not to come. What can
we do now?"

"Enthrone your majesty with all due ceremony and if necessary, defend
you in true Szekler fashion," said Stephen Run.

"You are too few for that, my friends."

"Have the goodness just to look out in front of the tent," began
Nalaczy, and drawing aside the curtain, he showed him a crowd of
Szeklers with swords and lances, who had remained without. "We are
here _cum gentibus_ to prove to your grace that if we acknowledge you
as our Prince, this is not done in mere jest."

Apafi shrugged his shoulders and began to draw on his boots. But he
was so thoughtful and melancholy with it all, that an hour passed
before he was dressed, for he took up each article of dress the wrong
way, and put on his coat before he thought of his waistcoat. Several
hundred of the nobility had assembled in Selyk at his call, more than
he expected or even wished.

When Ali Pasha