said he, "you ask too much of me. You seem to expect
that folks will talk of nothing but your beggarly duel for a whole
twelve-month. Why, it is as much forgotten as if it had never been. Look
now! you killed Fennimore, and Fennimore had a younger brother who by
his death succeeded to the family estates. They asked him a little time
ago why he did not pursue the action brought against you. 'I am not so
mad,' said he, 'as to take action against my benefactor.' You can meet
him at my place this very evening. He is a much finer fellow than his
brother, and he'll be very glad to see you."

"The luck's on my side then, but let us talk of other things. It looks
as if Pest were now becoming the nest of the elegant world, or you would
not have established yourself in it. What are you doing here?"

"We are spreading civilization. It is a somewhat poorer diversion than
spending the season at Paris, but a few Hungarian magnates have taken it
into their heads to live henceforth at Pest, and for their sake others,
and for these others' sake others still have pitched their tents in this
little town, in which there is as much pleasure as you'll find at
London, and as many illusions as you'll find anywhere."

"That's all right. And what do you know about the Karpathys?"

Mr. Kecskerey blew himself out haughtily like a frog, and grunted in a
strangulated sort of voice, "My friend, for what do you take me, pray?
Am I your spy, that I should go ferreting into family secrets in order
to betray them to you? What sort of an opinion can you have of me?"

Abellino, with a feeling of satisfaction, launched the remainder of the
crumpled-up visiting-cards in his fist at Joko's head. He knew the
manners and customs of Mr. Kecskerey thoroughly. He was wont to fling
back every dishonourable commission and query with the utmost
indignation, into the face of their proposer, but he executed them all
the same, and reported accordingly.

"What business is it of mine what the Karpathys are doing? The world
says, however, that Madame Karpathy has a fresh lover every day. At one
time 'tis Count Erdey, at another 'tis Mike Kis. It says, too, that old
Squire John himself invites his cronies to Karpatfalva, and is quite
delighted if his wife finds any among them worthy to be loved. He lets
her go visiting at the neighbouring villages with Mike Kis hundreds of
times, and much more is said to the same effect. But what has it all got
to do with me? I think a