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Updated: June 16, 2025
Throughout the whole tussle Dr. Sarkantyús never ceased blackguarding the rioters for their imbecile suspicion of medical science, and tried to explain to Thomas Bodza how very much in error he was as to the contents of the box. Only Széphalmi displayed an utter want of dignity.
"I knew what would be the end of it!" cried Dame Zudár, gnashing her teeth. "The poltroon is betraying us himself. Let him perish if he does not know how to live." "Scoundrel!" Bodza shouted to him. "What! cannot you die speechless like a Julius Cæsar? And when the common cause demands that you should keep silence too! Fie upon you, I say!"
It was my first care to seize all the post-horses in order that the authorities should not send forth couriers for assistance. You see that I am provident. Choose the best horse for yourself and hasten whither you would. I entrust this province to you." Bodza was magnanimous. The department of greatest danger and the glory of conquest he entrusted to another.
Thomas Bodza, therefore, hastened to cut him short. "Then you maintain," he began, "that the gentry have not poisoned the peasants?" "A man must be mad to even ask such a question." "Then why are so many people now dying all over the kingdom?" "Because of their sins.
"The fellow has the strength of an ox," said he to Thomas Bodza, seizing the thick-set creature by the hair, and lugging him hither and thither, which appeared to infinitely delight the speechless monster.
The old gentleman remained silent. The gipsy savagely belaboured his dove-white head with the heavy whip. At the sound of the blows, an angry voice suddenly resounded from behind the master's back. "Hold hard, hold hard! you blockheads, you brutes, you stupid numbskulls!" Bodza, in his terror, sprang from his seat, and the astonished multitude beheld Dr.
The second was the rector, Thomas Bodza. Apart from the fact that he had an extraordinary liking for wine and never could quite distinguish the forenoon from the afternoon, Mr. Michael Kordé was a man of refinement to the very tips of his toes. In his time he had worn out a great many stout hazel switches, it being the custom of his establishment to make each pupil provide his own rod.
Maria was no proselyte of this extravagant confederacy, but, living, as she did, nearer to the main source of it all, she was better able, with the assistance of current rumours and her own lively imagination, to amuse Thomas Bodza with more fables than he could have told her. "Romulus is not dead, Romulus is still alive," whispered she to the interrogator mysteriously.
Bodza did not move a muscle of his face during this violent tension; but, all at once, Ivan began writhing, his features contracted with pain, and he placed one hand on his stomach. "Well, what is the matter?" inquired Bodza. The fellow doubled up with pain. "I have a sudden stitch, in the side." "What! is that all? and you make so much fuss over it!
Bodza had died at their very feet after half an hour of the most excruciating torments, and, meanwhile, there mingled with the crowd numbers of wailing women, each of whom already had their dead at home, and spread sorrow and confusion wherever they went. Then everybody lost his head, and was frightened into bestial ferocity. The dying lay about in the road with none to care for them.
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