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Updated: May 8, 2025
By degrees Gáspár Gregorics got all particulars out of the man; and now the ground seemed to be burning under his feet, so he went straight into the town to look for the man with the three hairs on his nose. It was not difficult to find him, and at the first place he asked at, three voices answered at once: "That must be András Prepelicza.
When this was known in the town, the eight remaining ladies arrived, one after the other, at the lawyer's, in order to make known to him their refusal of the legacy, as they also had nothing to do with Gregorics.
Gregorics shook his head sorrowfully. "Don't talk nonsense, Anna," he said. Deep down in his heart was a thought which he was afraid to put into words, but which entirely spoiled his life for him, and robbed him of sleep and appetite. He had thought of his step-brothers; they had something to do with it, he was sure.
The child was weak and sickly, and his grown-up brothers always hoped for his death; however, he did not die, but grew up, and when of age took possession of his fortune, most of which he had inherited from his mother, who had died during his minority and left him her whole fortune; whereas the children of the first wife only had their share of the father's fortune, which, however, was not to be sneered at, for old Gregorics had done well in the wine trade.
And in a few weeks' time the whole town was full of gossip about Gregorics and his cook, and all sorts of tales were told, some of them supremely ridiculous. His step-brothers would not believe it. "A Gregorics and a servant! Such a thing was never heard of before!" The neighbors tried to pacify them by saying there was nothing strange in the fact, on the contrary it was quite natural.
Pál Gregorics had never done things correctly all his life. How much was true and how much false is not known, but the gossip died away by degrees, only to awaken again some years later, when a small boy was seen playing about with a pet lamb in Pál Gregorics's courtyard. Who was the child? Where did he come from? Gregorics himself was often seen playing with him.
Wibra?" he inquired. "Yes; and you?" "I am St. Peter." "What do you want?" "I wish to sign a receipt for your happiness." "For my happiness?" "I see you cannot get your umbrella, and my friend Gregorics has asked me to help you. So I am quite willing to sign a paper declaring that I did not give the umbrella to the young lady." "It is very good of you, but I have neither paper nor ink here.
Where had he put it to? If he had exchanged the paper notes for gold, melted it, and eaten it by spoonfuls ever since, he could not have finished it yet. But Gregorics had been a careful man, so the money must be in existence somewhere. It was enough to drive one mad.
"I am quite satisfied with the work," said Gregorics. "Here is the promised reward, and now you may go." The elder of the two masons was surprised at being let off so easily. "I've heard and read of this sort of thing," he said, "but they did things differently then.
Yes, there it was, he was sure of it; and all at once he remembered the incident in Szeged, how Gregorics had let his umbrella fall in the water, his anxiety, and offer of a large reward for its discovery. Then again, the old gentleman's words rang in his ear: "The umbrella will once belong to you, and you will find it useful to protect you from the rain."
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