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Updated: May 8, 2025
Gregorics fell on his knees by the side of the bed of the sick child, kissed his face and cold little hands, and asked despairingly: "What is the matter, my boy? Tell me what hurts you." "I don't know, uncle," moaned the child. At that moment Gregorics suffered every pain the child felt, and his heart seemed breaking.
Gregorics may have been wily enough to be a spy for a whole Russian and Austrian army, but a woman, however simple, was far deeper than he. Next Sunday she went to church with earrings in her ears, much to the amusement of the lads and lasses of the town, who had long ago dubbed her "the Grenadier."
Upon that the members of the committee put their heads together and decided that Pál Gregorics was a tactless fellow. It was the greatest impertinence on his part to outbid the Mayor, and a baron to boot! Baron Radvánszky had given ten florins for his ticket, and Gregorics throws down twenty. Why, it was an insult! The son of a wine merchant!
It did not seem likely that Anna or the boy should have the money, nor Sztolarik, who was Gyuri Wibra's guardian; so the brothers Gregorics did not despair of finding it, and they engaged detectives to keep their eyes on Anna, and looked up a sharp boy in Pest to let them know how Gyuri lived there, and to find out from his conversation whether he knew anything of the missing money.
The horses outside may paw the ground, and toss their manes as much as they like, what difference does it make? Pál Gregorics spits blood! Oh, you silly little Marys and Carolines. Of course Pál Gregorics is an ugly, sickly man, but think how rich he is; and after all, he only spits his own blood. So what can it matter to you?
And he rejoiced inwardly at the trick he was playing his brother and sister. He returned home as fast as horses could take him, and did not even stop at his own house, but went straight on to Sztolarik's and informed him he would like to buy "Lebanon." This was the name they had given to the orchard and house old Gregorics had bought of the clergyman's widow.
He was a pretty little fellow, so full of life and spirits that every one took a fancy to him. Little Gyuri Wibra grew to be a fine lad, strong and broad chested. Pál Gregorics was always saying, "Where on earth does he take that chest from?"
Drink another glass before you go, Sztolarik." When the lawyer had gone, Gregorics called his man-servant in. "Go at once to the ironmonger's and buy a large caldron; then find me two masons and bring them here; but don't speak to a soul about it."
Hardly had the man gone, when the expected letter arrived, containing the news that Gyuri agreed to the sale of the orchard, and Sztolarik was just going to send one of his clerks to Gáspár, when the door opened, and in walked Boldizsár Gregorics, puffing and blowing from the haste he had made. "Pray take a seat, Mr. Gregorics. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
And before the day was over she had found out that it would hardly hurt her at all to have her ears pierced. Yes, she wanted to have some earrings, and now she did all she could to bring Gregorics into temptation. She dressed herself neatly, wore a red ribbon in her hair, in fact, made herself thoroughly irresistible.
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