go right round the pool to the "hotel," which
strangers always named the "Frozen Sheep," in reference to the story I
mentioned before. The gypsies were still playing inside, and outside
several couples were turning in time to music, and some peasants were
standing about drinking their glass of "palinka" (a kind of brandy),
while a wagoner from Zolyom sat alone at a table drinking as hard as he
could. He was already rather drunk, and was keeping up a lively
conversation all by himself, gazing now and then with loving eyes at the
lean horse harnessed to his cart, and which, with drooping head, was
awaiting his master's pleasure to move on.

"My neighbor says," philosophized the wagoner aloud, "that my horse is
not a horse. And why is it not a horse, pray? It was a horse in the time
of Kossuth! What? It can't draw a load? Of course not, if the load is
too heavy. It is thin, is it? Of course it is thin, for I don't give it
any oats. Why don't I give it any? Why, because I have none, of course.
What's that you say? The other day it couldn't drag my cart? No,
because the wheel was stuck in the mud. My neighbor is a great donkey,
isn't he?"

Upon which, up he got, and stumbled over to the dancers, requesting them
to give their opinion as to whether his neighbor was a donkey or not.
They got out of his way, so, like a mad dog, which sees and hears
nothing, the wagoner rushed upon Madame Krisbay.

"Is mine a horse, or is it not?"

Madame was frightened, and the smell of brandy, which emanated from the
good man, made her feel faint.

"_Mon Dieu!_" she murmured, "what a country I have come to!"

But Mrs. Mravucsan, gentle as she was generally, could also be energetic
if necessary.

"I don't know if yours is a horse or not," she said, "but I can tell you
you're a drunken beast!"

And with that she gave him a push which sent him rolling over on his
back. He lay there murmuring:

"My neighbor says my horse is blind in one eye. Nonsense! He can see the
road just as well with one eye as with two."

Then up he got, and began to follow them, and Madame Krisbay, leaving go
of Mrs. Mravucsan's arm, and in her fright forgetting her wounded
shoulder, took to her heels and ran. The dancers seeing her went into
fits of laughter at the pair of thin legs she showed.

"How on earth can she run so fast with such thin legs?" they asked each
other.

Still more surprised were Veronica and Gyuri (who had seen nothing of
the incident wi