ed and insisted upon getting up.

"I am going. I am going for her. Lead me to her. I will fetch her."

"Softly, softly, sir. Lie down again! Remember that I am a doctor, and I
have still to cure you. You must continue to lie in bed for some time,
and cannot yet see your grandchild. The girl is with folks who love her.
Her adopted father is all love, you have been all hatred. You must first
be cured of that evil sickness."

"Of what sickness? I am no longer sick. I am quite cured."

"Of hatred. You have a cast-off son who perhaps at this very moment is
standing on the threshold of destruction. You have no thought for him.
You have still some hard stones in your heart. Those stones must first
of all be pulverized and dissolved. Now if this son of yours were
standing here, and you were to stretch out your arms to him and say, 'My
child!' then you would be cured, then you might very well say, 'I am no
longer sick.'"

"And shall I not see my child till then?" wailed Szephalmi.

"Sir, you are very exacting."

"Ask of me what you will, I place all my property at your disposal. If
you will not bring my child hither, at least take me where I may see
her. You need not tell her I am her father, I only want to exchange a
word or two with her. Whatever price you may put on such a service I
shall not consider it too great."

"Sir, I am no impostor who wants to make money out of you. The only
recompense I claim for restoring to you your lost child is that you
welcome back the youth who was driven from this home. I have odd desires
sometimes, but I stick to them."

The young man shrugged his shoulders, refolded the little pearl-trimmed
cap, thrust it into his bosom again, and coldly replied:

"And if we cannot save this young man?"

"Then I shall keep my secret and you will never know where the girl is."

Old Hetfalusy sighed deeply.

"Bring me pen and paper," said he to his son-in-law.

The latter looked at him as if he did not understand.

The old man insisted impatiently.

"Place the table here and give me writing-materials, I say."

When he had got what he wanted he beckoned to the stranger.

"Listen, sir, to what I write," said he. Then he arose from his bed,
took up the pen, and wrote with a trembling hand the following letter:

"TO GENERAL VERTESSY,

"SIR,--By a divine miracle I have recovered within the last hour
my power of speech, and the use of my fingers. The very first
word I am