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Updated: June 20, 2025
And when she felt the approach of death, she had herself taken to Levetinczy, that she might not be placed in the tomb where God knows who mouldered away under Timar's name.
Only that he could not always understand it is a strange language. Moonstruck people perhaps comprehend it, for they follow it; only they, as well as the sleep-walkers, remember nothing of what was said when they awake. It was as if the moon answered Timar's questions. Which? All. And the beating of his heart? or his calculations? All. Only that he could not put these answers into words.
They deliberated with Imlac what was to be done, and finally resolved, when the inundation should cease, to return to Abyssinia. Timar's Two Worlds Maurus Jokai, by common consent the greatest Hungarian novelist of the nineteenth century, was born at Komarom on February 19, 1825. Trained for the law, as an advocate he achieved the distinction of winning his first case.
On the site of his Komorn palace stands another building, and the Levetinczy tomb has been removed on account of the fortifications. Of all the former splendor and riches not a trace remains. And what is passing meanwhile on the ownerless island? Since Timar's disappearance from Komorn forty years had passed.
And by what right do you deny her to me? Am I not Noémi's betrothed, who would make her my legal wife and bring her to honor, while you can never marry her, and can only make her unhappy?" The man drops boiling oil on Timar's heart: he wrung his hands in agony. "Will you write to Noémi, or shall I take these four letters over to the cloister?"
It was cold in the room, whose windows were covered with frost-flowers. And yet sweat dropped from Timar's brow, as he strode up and down the narrow space. So, then, every one is consecrated to misfortune to whom he gives his hand on that hand is a curse. Oh, what an awful night this is! Will it never be day? He felt as if this room were a dungeon or a tomb.
Hitherto he had only had to contend with passive resistance; but as soon as Timéa had swallowed the hot and bitter decoction of Mocha, she pushed Timar's hand with such strength that the cup fell; then she drew the quilt over her, and her teeth began to chatter. "Thank God! she lives; for she is in a high fever," sighed Timar, "And now for a sailor's funeral."
But first she pulled down the lace of her sleeves, which had fallen back from her wrist. The major entered. He was a fine man, with a handsome, soldierly face. Timéa did not go to meet him, but stood by the lamp; Timar's eyes never left her. Damnation! what did he see? As the major entered Timéa blushed.
Then he began to put on Timar's clothes in a leisurely way. On the mantel-piece he found Timar's watch: this he put in his waistcoat-pocket, and inserted Timar's studs in his shirt-front, finding time to arrange his hair in the glass. When he was quite ready, he threw up his head, and placed himself before the fire with outstretched legs and folded arms. "Well; now then, comrade."
From that day all Timar's undertakings flourished, and step by step he reached the summit of an ordinary successful business man's ambition the title of nobility. At the same time Brazovics, who had treated Timar with brutal inconsiderateness because of the wreck of the St. Barbara, went steadily down-hill, borrowing and embezzling trust monies in his fall.
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