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Updated: May 8, 2025
So she took refuge in the sanctuary of the Great Lord, and, embracing the pillars of his throne, prayed, and prayed, and prayed. Scarce a quarter of an hour after the lawyer's departure, some one else came. It was Michael Daruszegi, the magistrate. The girl trembled as she saw him. The confessor had come! Topándy sprang up from his seat and went to meet him.
Topándy offered cigars to the official "bailiffs." The magistrate, Michael Daruszegi, a young man of thirty, appeared to be still younger from his fair face. They had sent the under, not the chief magistrate, because he was a new hand, and would be more zealous. There is more firmness in a young man, and firmness was necessary when face to face with the disbeliever in God.
"I have no more questions to ask the young lady," said Daruszegi. "This matter is really over in any case." "Over?" asked Topándy astonished. "Yes, over: explained, judged, and executed." "How?" "The robber chief, Kandur, before he died in agony, made such serious and perfectly consistent confessions as, combined with other circumstances, compromised your neighbor in the greatest measure."
An hour later he went in search of Lorand, who was still guarding his dead darling. The magistrate was there too. "My dear sir," he said to the officer. "I am not going to the gaol now." "Not yet?" inquired Daruszegi. "Very well." "Not now, nor at any other time. A greater master has given me orders in a different direction." They began to look at him in astonishment.
As I was sealing it the hot wax dripped onto my nail, and see how my hand has blackened since." The tips of his left hand were blue and swollen. "The doctor, quickly," cried Daruszegi to his servant. "Never mind. It is already unnecessary," said Topándy, falling languidly into an arm-chair. "In two hours it is over. I cannot live more than two hours.
His face was much paler than usual: but still that good-humored irony and light-hearted smile was there. "Lorand, my boy, there will be two funerals here." "Who is the second dead person?" asked Daruszegi. "I am." Then he drew from his breast his left hand which he had hitherto held thrust in his coat. "An hour ago I wrote a letter to your mother.
"'I am Miklós Daruszegi, county court magistrate, and have come to arrest you, in consequence of a proclamation of the High Court of Justice in Vienna, which has sent us instructions to arrest you wherever you may be found on the charge of several forgeries and deceits, in flagrante, and not to accept bail! "'But, sir ! "'There is no chance for resistance.
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