the wife
of one of her sons, a pretty young woman, who was trying to teach a
little prattler at her side to use the golden spoon which she had
placed in his small, fat hand, while he laughed and crowed, and the
family did their best to guess what he said, or what he most
preferred.

Opposite to them there sat two gentlemen. One of them was the husband
of the young mother, Jozsef Bardy--a handsome man of about
thirty-five, with regular features, and black hair and beard; a
constant smile beamed on his gay countenance, while he playfully
addressed his little son and gentle wife across the table. The other
was his brother, Barnabas--a man of herculean form and strength. His
face was marked by smallpox; he wore neither beard or mustache, and
his hair was combed smoothly back, like a peasant's. His disposition
was melancholy and taciturn; but he seemed constantly striving to
atone, by the amiability of his manners, for an unprepossessing
exterior.

Next to him sat a little cripple, whose pale countenance bore that
expression of suffering sweetness so peculiar to the deformed, while
his lank hair, bony hands, and misshapen shoulders awakened the
beholder's pity. He, too, was an orphan--a grandchild of the old
lady's; his parents had died some years before.

Two little boys of about five years old sat opposite to him. They were
dressed alike, and the resemblance between them was so striking that
they were constantly mistaken. They were twin-children of the young
couple.

At the lower end of the table sat Imre Bardy, a young man of twenty,
whose handsome countenance was full of life and intelligence, his
figure manly and graceful, and his manner courteous and agreeable. A
slight moustache was beginning to shade his upper lip, and his dark
hair fell in natural ringlets around his head. He was the only son of
the _majoresco_, Tamas Bardy, and resembled him much in form and
feature.

Beside him sat an old gentleman, with white hair and ruddy complexion.
This was Simon Bardy, an ancient relative, who had grown old with the
grandmother of the family.

The same peculiarity characterized every countenance in the Bardy
family--namely the lofty forehead and marked brows, and the large
deep-blue eyes, shaded by their heavy dark lashes.[1]

"How singular!" exclaimed one of the party; "we are thirteen at table
to-day."

"One of us will surely die," said the old lady; and there was a
mournful conviction in the faint, trembling