it is no farther from him to me, than from me to him. If he
wishes to speak with me let him take the trouble to come here."

"I understand, Dumnye Macska." In his terror the peasant had called
Clement by the name used by the peasants for the Lieutenant of the
Rounds, and at once he hurried out of the room.

Clement drew himself up with a great effort in his high-backed chair,
and placed two large books on the floor before him that his visitor
should not notice that he was barefooted.

Heavy footsteps were soon heard on the street before the house, and
when he looked from the window he saw to his great dismay that his
visitor was no other than Count Ladislaus Csaki, attended by two
Hungarian foot-soldiers with gold lacings.

"Now, Clement," said the poet to himself, "maintain your dignity. It
is true he is a Count and a distinguished man, but one who has fallen
into disfavor with the Prince while you are in his favor, and besides
that are in an official position." So he hid his feet under the books,
placed his pen between his lips and bade Csaki come in. He did not
even rise at his entrance. Csaki appeared displeased at this
reception.

"You know how to maintain your official dignity," he said to Clement.

"What I am, I am, thanks to the favor of the Prince," he replied, with
affectation, and folded his arms proudly.

"I have come to you only at the bidding of the Prince. His Highness
has intrusted me with a very delicate affair in which I need your
help. The affair must be managed with the utmost secrecy and for that
reason I could have wished that you should come to me."

At this explanation Clement suddenly lost his insolent manner.

"I beg your pardon," he stammered confusedly and with head humbly
bowed. "I did not know-- I pray you be seated."

But as the chair in which he sat was the only specimen of the kind in
the room, he jumped up to make room for the Count, and in so doing
displayed his feet without their customary covering, at which Csaki
burst into a hearty laugh.

"What the devil does this mean, Lieutenant," he exclaimed. "Are you
like the Turks who take off their boots in excess of reverence?"

"I beg your pardon. I have not taken them off but they were stolen
from me by my servant while I slept. This was my only reason for
making your Grace such a rude reply. But I dare hope that your Grace
has already pardoned me."

Csaki's good-humor was only increased by this explanation.

"Certainly,