at interest have you in the matter?" inquired the
astonished Kecskerey.

"This much--I am a man and will not allow a woman whom I respect to be
vilified in my presence."

That was saying a great deal, and there was no blinking it, not only
because Rudolf was right and enjoyed the best of reputations, but also
because he was known to be the best shot and swordsman in the place, and
cool-headed and lucky to boot.

So from henceforth Madame Karpathy's name ceased to be alluded to in the
club.

CHAPTER XIX.

ZOLTAN KARPATHY.

What Abellino had cause to tremble at had really happened. Madame John
Karpathy had become a mother. A son was born to her.

Early one morning the family doctor invaded the sanctum of the Nabob
with the joyful intelligence--"Your wife has borne you a son!"

Who can describe the joy of Squire John thereat? What he had hitherto
only ventured to hope, to imagine, his hardiest, most ardent desire was
gratified: his wife had a son! A son who would be his heir and
perpetuate his name! who was born in happier times, who would make good
the faults of his father, and by means of his youthful virtues fulfil
the obligations which the Karpathy family owed to its country and to
humanity.

If only he might live long enough to hear the child speak, to read a
meaning in his sweet babblings, to speak words to him that he might
understand and never forget, so that in the days to come, when he was
the _feted_ hero of all great and noble ideas, he might say, "I first
heard of these things from that good old fellow, John Karpathy."

What should be the child's name? It should be the name of one of those
princes who drank out of the same wine-cup with the primal ancestor of
the House of Karpathy on the fair plains of Hunnia. It should be
Zoltan--Zoltan Karpathy--how beautifully that would sound!

Presently they brought to him this new citizen of the world, and he held
him in his arms and kissed and embraced him. He could scarce see him for
the tears of joy that streamed from his eyes, and yet how greatly he
longed to see him! With twinkling eyes he regarded the child, and a
fine, vigorous little lad it was, like a little rosy-cheeked angel; his
little hands and neck were regularly wrinkled everywhere from very
plumpness, his mouth was hardly larger than a strawberry, but his
sparkling eyes, than which no precious stone was ever of a purer azure,
were all the larger by contrast, and whenever he drooped t