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Updated: June 11, 2025
"You poor thing!" whispered Aunt Agatha in hysterical sympathy. "You're as pale as a ghost. I don't wonder " But Jokai of Vienna was already bolting wildly through the street door and down the steps. Aunt Agatha burst into aggrieved tears.
Though one knows that Jokai writes in the strange tongue which sticks its verb into the middle of its noun, yet one vaguely thinks of it as of Gaelic or Welsh something archaic, kept for Eisteddfods and Renaissances and it is not till one arrives in Hungary that one realises that it is a living, disconcerting reality.
Jokai, who is still living and enjoys a world-wide fame as a novelist, and Petofi, the eminent poet, who was destined to become the Tyrtaeus of his nation, were then both young men, full of enthusiasm and intrepid energy, and teeming with great ideas.
It was delicately gauged, a nerve-racking discomfort without definite pain, a thing to snap the dreadful tension of a man's endurance at the end. "Ah! Monsieur!" cried Jokai wildly. "It is inconceivable " "Play!" said Carl briefly. White and grim his guest obeyed. In terrible silence they played the game through to the end.
I have no desire to cheat him I am so tired, so very tired. God be with you, my dear sisters. Maurus Jokai We are far amidst the snow-clad mountains of Transylvania. The scenery is magnificent. In clear weather, the plains of Hungary as far as the Rez promontory may be seen from the summit of the mountains.
I cannot easily conceive our working ourselves up to such enthusiasm as the Hungarians lately displayed over the jubilee of Jokai, an enthusiasm that resounded even unto this country, and shook the lacunar aureum of the Holborn Restaurant with shouts of "Eljen." The peculiarity of the Hungarian temperament does not, however, entirely explain their joy in Jokai.
"And Hieronymis Janos, who wrote such eloquent proclamations and calls to arms? Kossuth was very fond of him." "He is busy, with Maurice Jokai, preparing a great book upon the Austro-Hungarian monarchy, a book patronized by the Archduke Rudolph. He will doubtless edit the part relative to the kingdom of Saint Stephen." "Ha! ha!
Only he must be careful to preserve his seclusion. Leigh Hunt made his cell the artistic centre of London, but I doubt if he got through much work; and more recently, when Jokai was in gaol, he was compelled to insist on two hours' privacy and confinement per day. To be a "first-class misdemeanant" seems to me the height of happiness for a literary man.
Carl poured himself some whiskey and pushed the decanter toward his guest with a significant glance. Jokai of Vienna poured and drank with a shudder of nausea. "We've a new chessboard," said Carl. "It's most ingenious. Hunch spent a large part of his valuable morning shopping for it. The board and chessmen are metal and I myself have added one or two unique improvements.
My dear Jokai, that's absurd. As for your singular indifference to the burning car that's easy. You'd stolen it. But why?" He smiled slightly and picked up his flute. With infinite softness a waltz danced lightly through the quiet room. To such a fanciful, eerie piping might the ghost of a child have danced.
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