guests rose in the morning, they found
the whole household on foot, and a comfortable breakfast prepared, of
coffee, rolls, cold meat, and plum brandy. This time, Uncle Lorincz
gave his bashful nephew no peace until he had actually forced down his
throat all that was eatable and drinkable--seeing that he was in the
habit of being thus treated. When breakfast was over, there was a
mutual interchange of affectionate speeches, and Uncle Lorincz once
more packed up his guests in their cloaks and furs, thrusting a long
cylindrical bottle of plum-brandy into Uncle Menyhert's pocket, while
his wife put a large, fresh-baked cake into Aunt Zsuzsi's hand, and
little Klarika provided the young Sphinx with an ample supply of cold
pastry; and after exacting from their guests a promise to visit them
again on their return, they all took leave--Uncle Lorincz accompanying
them a few miles on horseback, to point out the best road across the
plains.

* * * * *

And now we must beg our readers to draw on their three-leagued boots,
and step into the neighbouring county. Here, too, the roads lie deep
in mud; for the rain continues during seven weeks in these districts,
as it does in the East Indies. Here, too, are villages on the
highroad, and houses with open doors, and travellers hastening towards
them. But now it is question of a house whose doors are shut, and of
travellers who do not stick in the mud.

A handsome carriage, drawn by four spirited grays, was driven by a
young gentleman, while the smart-liveried coachman sat beside him.

The youth was slightly flushed with the exercise: he wore a
low-crowned hat, and light summer dolmany, while his embroidered fur
cloak lay across the seat. Guiding the horses dexterously over the
difficult roads and rickety bridges, he finally turned aside about
half way through the village, and drove rapidly towards a dilapidated
house, before which he was obliged to rein up his horses, as the
_porte-cochere_ was closed.

"Hej! ho!" cried the coachman, leaping from the box, and knocking at
the door.

"Go in at the side-door, and open the _porte-cochere_ yourself, Matyi;
but take the whip with you, or else the dogs will tear you to pieces."

The coachman did as he was desired. No sooner had he reached the
court, than a terrible encounter took place between the dogs and
Matyi, who swore and lashed away with his whip until he had succeeded
in opening the gate.

The t