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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Nay, not that man!" cried a voice from the crowd, and the magistrate beheld Thomas Bodza advancing towards him by the side of the long table. "Whom then?" cried he. "Whom but yourself!" exclaimed Numa Pompilius, accompanying his words with the gesture of a Roman Senator.
"It is not my eyes that are staring, my worthy master, but your own," replied the doctor calmly. "Your face is pale, you are trembling. I tell you death comes from above and not from my powders." Thomas Bodza felt so dizzy that he had to clutch hold of the arm of shaggy Hanák, who was standing by his side.
Why, they sniff my pockets even now whenever I go along there." "They know you still better, you knacker you, I'll be bound," said Dame Zudár to Ivan derisively. Ivan caught up a knife from the table and would have stuck the woman with it had not Thomas Bodza stayed his hand. He did not like these squabbles at all. "This is not the time for wrangling," said he.
Thomas Bodza squinted suspiciously at Maria, and holding the iron ring on his little finger right in front of her eyes, inquired: "Dost thou then know the meaning of these three letters: U. S. S.?" Maria answered with a smile: "Ud slovenske stridnosce." Then the master did indeed press the hand offered to him.
One or two of his acquaintances tried to defend him but were thrust aside. So long as the tussle lasted, Thomas Bodza stood upon the table with the pose of a capitoline statue, whence he exclaimed in a dictatorial voice: "It is now for me to command." The pinioned magistrate continued to curse and swear, and threaten the rioters till they shoved a gag into his mouth.
At the public examinations they declaimed Hungarian verses with such emphasis, with such a fire of enthusiasm, that even that portion of the audience which did not understand a word of their fulminating periods cheered them vociferously, whereas he, Thomas Bodza, recited the affected, pedestrian, poetic effusions of the Slavonic School of self-improvement without the slightest effect.
Then Thomas Bodza proceeded to pour a paper full of the stuff down the throat of the pinioned doctor. The bystanders thronged around and gaped curiously at him, expecting every moment to see him drop down dead. "Look how green his face is!" said Bodza, working with evil intent on the excited imagination of the mob. "Look how his eyes are staring, and how ghastly pale he is!"
Bodza promised to make his pupils copy out the documents in question early on the following morning. "And now, my brave Numa, don't forget that our watchword is: 'Valour and Concord! Of valour we have no lack, but as regards concord I would first of all have you know why they call me Fabius Cunctator. My principle is: judicious procrastination!
"Then all our fine preparations will lead to nothing," rejoined Maria, with self-assumed despondency. "While you are awake in one place they are asleep in another; in one spot the flames are bursting forth, in another they are being extinguished. Why, they ought to have flashed forth everywhere at once. Have you issued proclamations?" "No," replied Bodza shamefacedly.
Thomas Bodza totted up all these outrages on the back of his map, and whenever he was immersed in that odd production, his eyes always fastened themselves on three red crosses which he had marked over the little town which indicated Hétfalu; and at all such times he would heave a deep sigh, as if he found this long waiting for the day of retribution almost too much for his patience.
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