beforehand, he would, if unmarried, go and look up a 'best man,' or, if
married, would go and sue for a divorce; but kill himself he would not."

The two friends drank to each other's health, and Gregorics smacked his
lips.

"It's devilish good," he said.

Then he gave the lawyer a sealed packet.

"In that you will find my will," he said. "I sent for you in order to
give it you."

He rubbed his hands and smiled.

"There will be some surprises in that."

"Why are you in such a hurry with it? There is plenty of time," said
Sztolarik, taking the packet.

Gregorics smiled.

"I know more about that than you, Sztolarik. But take a drop more, and
don't let us talk of death. And now I'll tell you how my father got this
wine. Well, he was a very sly customer, and if he couldn't get a thing
by fair means, he got it by foul, and I have inherited some of his
slyness from him. But mine is not the genuine article; however, that
does not matter. In Zemplin there lived a very, very rich man, a count,
and an ass into the bargain; at least he was a good-hearted man, and
liked to give pleasure to others, thus proving that he was an ass. My
father used to buy his wine of him, and if they had struck a good
bargain the count used to give him a glass of this nectar. Being an
assiduous wine merchant, of course my father was always worrying him to
sell him some of the wine, but the count would not hear of it, and said,
'The Emperor Ferdinand has not enough money to buy it!' Well, once when
they were drinking a small glass of the 'Life-giver,' my father began
sighing deeply: 'If my poor wife could only drink a thimbleful of this
every day for two months, I am sure she would get quite well again.'
Upon which the count's heart softened, and he called up his major-domo
and said: 'Fill Mr. Gregorics's cask with the "Life-giver."' A few days
later several visitors arrived at the castle, and the count ordered some
of the wine to be brought. 'There is none left, sir,' said the butler.
'Why, what has become of it?' asked the count. 'Mr. Gregorics took it
with him, there was not even enough to fill his cask!' It was true, for
my father had ordered an enormous cask of Mr. Pivak (old Pivak is still
alive and remembers the whole story), took the cask in a cart to
Zemplin, and, after filling it with the wine, brought it home. Not bad,
was it? Drink another glass before you go, Sztolarik."

When the lawyer had gone, Gregorics called his man-servan