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Szliminszky's voice; she evidently objected to her husband drinking, and her neighbor, Mr. Mokry, the lawyer's clerk, objected to her constant distractions, in spite of the interesting theme they were discussing. "That strong cigar will harm you, Wladin; you had better put it down. Well, and why did you go to Besztercebánya, Mr. Mokry?"

"I want to see that it is not too cold." Wladin handed over his glass of water. "You may drink a little of it, but not too much. Stop, stop, that will do!" Poor Wladin! He was a martyr to conjugal love!

He felt that Nature had bad intentions toward him. "Take care, Wladin, or the dog will bite your foot!" One of the watch-dogs was under the table gnawing at a bone he had possessed himself of, and a little farther off the cat was looking on, longingly, as much as to say: "Give me some of that superfluous food." Now began the so-called "amabilis confusio."

"Klener has a tailor working for him, a certain Kupek, who used to work at one of the court tailors' in Vienna, and he said to me: 'Don't grudge the money, Mr. Mokry, for this is such a durable stuff that your own skin will wear out first. Please feel it." "It's as soft as silk. Wladin, my dear, I think you had better change places with me. You are in a draught there each time the door is opened.

After the shouts of acclamation had died away, Wladin Szliminszky called out: "Now it is my turn!" "Wladin, don't make a speech!" cried his wife. "You know it is bad for your lungs to speak so loud."

Szliminszky had no answer ready, so, according to her usual custom, she turned to her husband and began worrying him. "Wladin, cut the fat off that meat." Wladin frowned. "But, my dear, that is just the best bit." "Never mind, Wladin, I can't allow it. Your health is the first consideration." And Wladin obediently cut off the fat bits. "Why is your coat unbuttoned? Don't you feel how cold it is?

It is even printed in Slovak verse." "What is printed?" "Why, the story of the umbrella ... Wladin, you are very hot, your face is the color of a boiled lobster. Shall I give you my fan?" "What about the umbrella?" queried Gyuri impatiently. "It is really strange you have never heard anything about it.

Every one spoke at once, and every one about a different subject. The Senators had returned to the important question of the corpse hanging in the wood; Mrs. Mravucsán complained that no one was eating anything, and looked as wretched as she could. Each one drank to the other's health, and during the quiet moment that followed, a voice was heard: "Oh, Wladin, Wladin!" It was Mrs.

Soon after the Szliminszky pair started for home, accompanied by a man carrying a lantern. Mrs. Szliminszky had made Wladin put on a light spring coat, hung a long cloak over his shoulders, tied a big woollen scarf round his neck, and having ordered him only to breathe through his nose, once they were out, she turned to Gyuri again.

Button it up at once, Wladin." The forester did as he was told, and with the pleasant feeling of having done his duty, turned his attention to his plate again. "Not another bit, Wladin, you've had enough. We don't want you to dream of bulls to-night." Wladin obediently put down his knife and fork, and prepared to drink a glass of water. "Give it me first," cried his wife excitedly.