em. Every day to
wander out of doors till after nine, hoc non pergit.--Scio, scio, what
you wish to say. You were at the P. C.'s. That is 'unum et idem' for me.
The other 'asinus' has been learning his lessons ever since midday, so
much has he to do, while you have not even so much as glanced at them;
do you wish to be a greater 'asinus' than he? Now I say 'semel propter
semper,' 'finis' to the carnival! Don't go any more a-dancing; for if
you stay out once more, 'ego tibi umsicabo.' Now 'pergus, dixi.'"

Old Marton during this well-deserved drubbing kept moving the scalp of
his head back and forth in assent, and then came after me with a candle,
to light me along the corridor to the door of my room, singing behind me
these jesting verses:

"Hab i ti nid gsagt
Komm um halbe Acht?
Und du Kummst mir jetzt um halbe naini
Jetzt ist de Vater z'haus, kannst nimmer aini."[41]

[Footnote 41: "Did I not tell thee, 'come at half-past seven?' and thou
comest now at half-past eight? Now the father is at home, thou canst no
more come in."]

And after me he called out "Prosit, Sir Lieutenant-Governor." I had no
desire to be angry with him. I felt too sad to quarrel with any one.

Henrik was indeed slaving away at the table, and the candle, burnt to
the end, proved that he had been at it a long time.

"Welcome, Desi," he said good humoredly. "You come late; a terrible
amount of 'labor' awaits you to-morrow. I have finished mine: you will
be behind with yours, so I have written the exercises in your place.
Look and see if it is good."

I was humbled.

That heavy-headed boy, on whom I had been wont to look down from such a
height, whose work I had prepared in play, work which he would have
broken his head over, had now in my place finished the work I had
neglected. What had become of me?

"I waited for you with a little pleasant surprise," said Henrik, taking
from his drawer something which he held in his hand before me. "Now
guess what it is."

"I don't care what it is."

I was in a bad humor, I longed to lay my head on the bed.

"Of course you care. Fanny has written a letter from her new home. She
has written to you in Magyar, about your dear mother."

These words roused me from my lethargy.

"Show me: give it me to read."

"You see, you are delighted after all."

I tore the letter from him.

First Fanny wrote to her parents in German, on the last page in Magyar
to me. She had already made such