ind my way to his place as bailiff, or servant, whichever he will
accept me as, and then I shall write to you once every month. You will
tell my loved ones at home what you know of me. And they will love you
twice as well for it: they will love you in place of me."

[Footnote 49: A name peculiarly Magyar.]

I hesitated. It was a difficult promise.

"If you love me, you must undertake it for my sake."

I clung to him and said I would undertake to keep the secret. For ten
years I would not say before mother or grandmother where their dearest
son had gone.

Would they reach the end of those ten years?

"You undertake that--on your word of honor?" said Lorand, gazing deeply
into my eyes; "on that honor by which you just now so proudly appealed
to me? Look, the whole Aronffy name is borne by you alone. Do you
undertake it for the honor of that whole name, not to mention this
secret before mother or grandmother?"

"I do--on my word of honor."

He grasped my hand. He trusted so much to that word!

"Well, now be quick. The carriage is waiting."

"Carriage? With that I cannot travel far. Besides it is unnecessary. I
have two good legs, they will carry me, if necessary, to the end of the
world, without demanding payment afterwards."

I took a little purse, on the outside of which mother had worked a
design, from my pocket, and wished to slip it into Lorand's side-pocket
without attracting attention.

He discovered it.

"What is this?"

"A little money. I thought you might want it for the journey."

"How did you come by it?" enquired my brother in astonishment.

"Why, you know, you yourself paid me two twenties a sheet, when I copied
those writings."

"And you have kept it?"--Lorand opened the purse, and saw within it
about twenty florins. He began to laugh.

How glad I was to see him laugh now, I cannot tell you, his laughter
infected me too, then I do not know why, but we laughed together, very
good-spiritedly. Now as I write these words the tears stand in my
eyes--and I did laugh so heartily.

"Why, you have made a millionaire of me."

Then cheerfully he put my purse into his pocket. And I did not know what
to do in my delight at Lorand's accepting my money.

"Now comrade mine, I could go to the end of the world. I don't have to
play 'armen reisender'[50] on the way."

[Footnote 50: Poor traveller.]

When we stepped out again through the low door into the narrow dark
courtyard, Marton and Moczli we