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To-day our father had the call from our dear Father-town so long awaited. In two hours we are ready. I pray to the Virgin to keep you ever safe, and that you do not quite forget me. Your unforgetting good friend, ROZSI." When Swithin read it his first sensation was that of a man sinking in a bog; then his obstinacy stiffened. 'I won't be done, he thought.
Often in the mornings he would go to the Mirabell Garden to smoke his cigar; there, in stolid contemplation of the statues rows of half-heroic men carrying off half-distressful females he would spend an hour pleasantly, his hat tilted to keep the sun off his nose. The day after Rozsi had fled from him on the stairs, he came there as usual.
'What? he thought, 'more of that infernal music! Margit, leaning over him, whispered: "Listen! Racoczy! It is forbidden!" Swithin saw that Rozsi was no longer in her seat; it was she who was striking those forbidden notes. He looked round everywhere the same unmoving faces, the same entrancement, and fierce stillness. The music sounded muffled, as if it, too, were bursting its heart in silence.
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