hosen
for my constant companion only my brother. He was so good to me. For he
was terribly strong. I thought there could not be a stronger fellow in
the whole town. His school-fellows feared his fists, and never dared to
cross his path; yet he did not look so powerful; he was rather slender,
with a tender girl-like countenance.

Even now I can hardly stop speaking of him.

As I was saying, our family was very happy. We never suffered from want,
living in a fine house with every comfort. Even the very servants had
plenty. Torn clothes were always replaced by new ones and as to
friends--why the jolly crowds that would make the house fairly ring with
merry-making on name-days[1] and on similar festive occasions proved
that there was no lack of them. That every one had a feeling of high
esteem for us I could tell by the respectful greetings addressed to us
from every direction.

[Footnote 1: In Hungary persons celebrate the name-day of the saint
after whom they are called with perhaps more ceremony than their
birthday.]

My father was a very serious man; quiet and not talkative. He had a pale
face, a long black beard, and thick eyebrows. Sometimes he contracted
his eyebrows, and then we might have been afraid of him; but his idea
always was, that nobody should fear him; not more than once a year did
it happen that he cast an angry look at some one. However, I never saw
him in a good humor. On the occasion of our most festive banquets, when
our guests were bursting into peals of laughter at sprightly jests, he
would sit there at the end of the table as one who heard naught. If dear
mother leaned affectionately on his shoulder, or Lorand kissed his face,
or if I nestled to his breast and plied him, in child-guise, with
queries on unanswerable topics, at such a time his beautiful, melancholy
eyes would beam with such inexpressible love, such enchanting sweetness
would well out from them! But a smile came there never at any time, nor
did any one cause him to laugh.

He was not one of those men who, when wine or good humor unloosens their
tongue, become loquacious, and tell all that lies hidden in their heart,
speak of the past and future, chatter and boast. No, he never used
gratuitous words. There was some one else in our family just as serious,
our grandmother; she was just as taciturn, just as careful about
contracting her thick eyebrows, which were already white at that time;
just as careful about uttering words of an