Banfy went back to his dead wife, kissed her white face for the last time and then went quietly to Csaki.

"I am ready."

After another quarter of an hour Csaki permitted the messenger to enter.

"What do you bring?" he asked the steward.

"The Prince's pardon for the prisoner."

"You have come too late."

The head of the highest noble of Transylvania had already fallen to the ground.

The tragedy comes to an end with the death of the hero. Other forms, other leaders, continue the course of events. The fate, the form, the history of Transylvania is changed. The sword-stroke that killed Banfy marked off an epoch. The ruling figure was buried in the earth of Bethlen chapel and no one inherited that spirit.

Only when misfortune threatens Transylvania, so says the chronicle,--to the terror of the people, to the astonishment of the world, the blood of the fallen patriot is wont to gush forth from this humble grave.