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"I'll have the whole village round us in a few minutes." Gyuri shook his head doubtfully. Had Sztolarik gone mad to think he could call all the people together from the fields, from the woods, from everywhere round about? But the old lawyer was as good as his word. Veronica must be found at any cost. "Where is his reverence?" he asked of the bystanders.
So one day the brothers came to terms, and Sztolarik was very surprised when, the next day, the door opened, and in walked Boldizsár and announced that he had thought things over, and come to the conclusion that "Lebanon" was decidedly not worth 50,000 florins, and he had given up all idea of buying it. "That does not matter," said Sztolarik, "your brother will give us 48,000 for it."
"I knew this would be the end of it. A legend should never be tampered with by a mortal's hand, or it will fall to pieces. Oh, our dear young lady! She was God's bride, and they wanted to make her the bride of a mortal, so God has taken her to Himself." Sztolarik sprang toward her, and caught hold of her hand. "What is that you say? Have you heard anything?"
And he waited impatiently till he had a chance of speaking to Gáspár about it. But that good man calmly answered: "It was very stupid of me to offer so much for it, and I am really grateful to you, Sztolarik, for not taking me at my word at once. Why, I can buy a good-sized estate for the money I offered for it." The lawyer hardly knew what to do next.
"Why, this is dreadful!" exclaimed Gyuri, turning pale. Sztolarik smiled. "That is only why I said, my friend, that we had better wait a bit before deciding anything." "Let us go at once to Father János and ask him to show us the umbrella." He could not wait a minute longer.
He had tried to grow cedars there at first, but the soil of Besztercebánya was not suitable for these trees, and the sarcastic inhabitants of the small town christened the orchard "Lebanon." Mr. Sztolarik showed no surprise at the offer. "So you want to buy 'Lebanon'?" he said. "It is a good orchard, and produces the finest fruit imaginable.
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.
Gyuri's eyes shone with delight. "Bravo, Sztolarik!" he exclaimed, "only the gods had such memories as you have." "You are a lucky fellow, Gyuri. I have an impression we are on the right track at last, and that you will find the money." "I begin to think so too," answered Gyuri, who was in turns optimist or pessimist, as the occasion presented itself. "But what can have become of old Müncz?"
"Well," said Sztolarik, "if he had intended the boy to have his money, he could have given it straight into his hands, no one could prevent it." This was quite true, and that was the very reason it seemed so strange he had not done so. The house in Vienna had been sold for 180,000 florins, the Privorec estates for 75,000, which made over a quarter of million florins. Good heavens!
Sztolarik sent back word he expected a letter every minute, and thanked him very much for the wine; he also remarked to the footman who had brought it that he hoped it would go smoothly, but whether he meant the wine, or something else, the footman did not quite understand.
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