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Updated: June 18, 2025
It was too big for a seedling and too small for a tree, but well-grown and promising. All the same it must be sacrificed, and down came the axe. But hardly had two or three blows been struck, when a voice was heard, crying out: "Reta! Reta!" Gyuri started and turned round. Who had called? The voice seemed quite close, but no one was visible far and near.
It was well and carefully thought out. So he did not really go to his estates, but simply to the town where Gyuri was studying with his old professor. Those were his happiest times, the only rays of light in his lonely life; weeks in which he could pet the boy to his heart's content. Gyuri was a favorite at school, always the first in his class, and a model of good behavior.
"Well, the gray-haired man disappeared, no one knew how nor where, and those who saw him for a moment swore it was St. Peter." "It was Müncz!" "Did you speak?" Gyuri bit his lip, and saw that he had spoken his thoughts aloud. "Nothing, nothing; please go on." "Well, St. Peter disappeared, and left the umbrella behind him." "And does it still exist?" "I should think it does indeed.
Then he must have something to say which could not be said after they had exchanged rings! Veronica again felt a weight on her heart. Gyuri got up discontentedly from his place next to Veronica, whose fingers began to play nervously with the work she had in her hands. "Come across to my room then."
He had been so near to his object, and now it was slipping from him again, like a Fata Morgana, which lures the wanderer on to look for it. It was easy to find the priest; he was feeding his pigeons in the garden. "Father János," began Gyuri, "now Mr. Sztolarik is here he would like to look at your wonderful umbrella. Can we see it?" "Of course. Mrs.
Dreams cannot be continued from one night to another like novels in a periodical." Gyuri drank his coffee, lit a cigar, and from out the cloud of smoke he replied in a mysterious voice, his eyes turned heavenward: "There are such dreams, as you will see. And how did you sleep?" Thereupon Mrs. Mravucsán began to tell the story of Veronica's adventure with the kitten.
There was no room for the coachman, so he had to follow on foot, and Gyuri took the reins into his own hands, Veronica sitting on the box beside him. Oh dear! she thought, what would they think of her in the village as they drove through? The road was better now, and they could drive faster, so Gyuri loosened the reins, and began to think over the events that had taken place.
"He looked at me sharply every now and then," he murmured. "And that was why he was killed?" The warder's head sank on his breast. "No, not only for that reason," continued No. 302. "Gyuri needed money again. He ordered me to bring him the silver candlesticks off the altar." "Murder and sacrilege," said the detective calmly. "No, I did not rob the church.
"My dear sir, what are you thinking of? Why, the poor girl's spirit would haunt me if I were to do such a thing!" Gyuri took out his purse and pressed two silver florins into the man's hand, upon which, without further ado, he took out his knife and cut the rose. "Won't the young lady's spirit haunt you now?" asked Gyuri, smiling.
There was nothing whatever to prevent Gyuri getting on in his profession; nothing troubled him, neither a pretty girl's face, nor a wish for rank and riches, only the legend of the lost wealth disturbed him.
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