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Updated: May 18, 2025
She got quite active and lively at the thought of the fifty florins, and shutting the door of the shop, she tripped across the yard with Gyuri to the ladder of the loft, and even wanted to go up with him herself. "No, no, stay down below, Mrs. Müncz. What would the world say, if we two were to go up to the loft together?" said Gyuri jokingly. Old Rosália chuckled.
It now occurred to Gyuri that she was offering him the reward, so he thought it time to make known his name. "I am Dr. Wibra," he said, "from Besztercebánya." "Oh, how lucky!" exclaimed the girl, clapping her hands gleefully. "We are just in want of a doctor for poor madame." This little misunderstanding was just what was wanted. Gyuri smiled.
You mean the notorious goldsmith who lived in Paris 200 years ago? Why, he's dead." Varna's pale lips curled in a superior smile. "Oh, yes that's what people think, but it's a mistake. He is still alive I am I have although of course there isn't much opportunity here " Gyuri cleared his throat with a rasping noise.
"Your father," he said, "once told me when I paid him for the house, that he should put the money in some bank, and asked me which would be the best and safest way to set to work about it." Gyuri wandered then from one bank to another, but without success. Thoroughly worn out he returned to Besztercebánya with the full intention of not thinking any more about the subject.
"That is true," laughed Mravucsán good-humoredly. "So you will take them?" "Of course, even if I were not going to Glogova myself." "Are you really going there?" asked Veronica, surprised. "Yes." She looked at him thoughtfully for a minute, and then said: "Don't try to deceive us." Gyuri smiled. "On my word of honor, I intended going to Glogova. Shall we all go together?"
They got into the carriage, the two ladies on the back seat, and Gyuri on the box with the coachman, but his face turned toward the ladies. Whether he would hold out in that uncomfortable position till Glogova remained to be seen.
And the inhabitants of the villages round about would say when the good folks turned their backs: "Poor things! Their brains have been turned with the joy of having a Jew in their town!" One fine spring afternoon, a light sort of dog-cart stopped before Mrs. Müncz's shop, and a young man sprang out of it, Gyuri Wibra, of course. Rosália, who was just standing at her door, speaking to Mr.
"I've told you the whole truth." Kupeczky remarked to Gyuri: "I would not mind betting the old gentleman has a tile loose." "A strange man, but a good one," answered Gyuri. "Who knows what memories are attached to that umbrella!" No signification was attached to the above-mentioned incident till years after, when every one had forgotten all about it, Gyuri included.
Every one likes him, and he will make his way in the world." That avaricious Gáspár Gregorics began to wish the boy had the quarter of a million after all, for he might in a few years' time marry his daughter Minka, who was just eleven. Anna had let the house, and Sztolarik sent Gyuri thirty florins every month out of the rent.
"How anxious she must be about me!" Gyuri would have liked to turn the priest's sorrow into joy. "We will soon reassure the young lady, and your reverence will feel all right after a night's rest. In two or three days it will seem like an amusing incident." "But which might have ended in a horrible death if Divine Providence had not sent you to help me."
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