a gypsy,
he was something more than a mere musician. But Lorand did not betray
the slightest emotion: he did not even take down from his shoulder the
stick, on which he was carrying his boots. He was walking bare-footed.
It was cheaper.

"Oh, you are proud of your red boots!" sneered the rider, looking down
at Lorand's bare-feet.

"It's easy for you to say so," was Lorand's sharp reply; "sitting on
that hack."

But "hack" means a kind of four-footed animal which this rider found no
pleasure in hearing mentioned.[54]

[Footnote 54: The Magyar word has a double meaning; besides a horse it
means a peculiar whipping-bench with which gypsies used to be
particularly well acquainted.]

"My own training," he said proudly, as if in self-defence against this
cutting remark.

"I know. I knew that even in my scapegrace days."

"Well, and where are you hobbling to now, student?"

"I am going to Csege, gypsy, to preach."

"What do you get from the 'legatio' for that, student?"

"Twenty silver florins, gypsy."

"Do you know what, student? I have an idea--don't go just yet to Csege,
but turn aside here to the shepherd's where you see that fold. Wait
there for me till to-morrow, when I shall come back, and preach your
sermon to me: I have never yet heard anything of the kind, and I'll give
you forty florins for it."

"Oh no, gypsy; do you turn aside to yonder fold. Don't go just now to
the farm, but wait a week for me; when I shall come back; then you can
fiddle my favorite tune, and I'll give you ten florins for it."

"I am no musician," replied the horseman, extending his chest.

"What's that rural fife doing at your side?" The gypsy roared at the
idea of calling his musket a "rural fife!" Many had paid dearly so as
not to hear its notes!

"You student, you are a deuce of a fellow. Take a draught from my
'noggin.'"

"No, thanks, gypsy; it isn't spiritual enough to go with my sermon."[55]

[Footnote 55: Lorand really quoted a sentence from a popular ditty, but
it is impossible in such cases to do proper justice to the original.

The whole passage between Lorand and the gypsy is full of allusions
intelligible only to Hungarians, _in Hungarian_, a proper rendering of
which, in my opinion, baffles all attempts. Of course the force of the
original is lost, but it is unavoidable.]

The gypsy laughed still more loudly.

"Well, good night, student."

He drove his spurs into his horse and galloped on along the high-