Part 2 (1/2)

Uncle Lorincz, seeing that the conversation was taking rather an unparliamentary turn, endeavoured to revive the former subject. ”And probably my nephew has pa.s.sed his examination too?” he asked.

”And with great credit,” replied his father, forgetting the burnt coat; ”that severe G----, who puzzled all the young men, was an examiner. Tell us what he asked you, Sandor; come, say it off.”

Sandor was quite ready to say it all off, but he required to be pressed.

”Well: _Quomodo_”--

But at that instant the wood-basket swallowed up our nephew, who had sat down upon it, and, unfortunately, not having been intended for such service, the lid had broken under him, and he disappeared inside, with the exception of his hands and feet, which still remained without.

At this sight Uncle Lorincz could no longer contain himself, but burst into such a hearty laugh that he almost rolled off his chair. Happily, by dint of struggling, the basket overturned, and Sandor succeeded with some difficulty in creeping forth.

His father, having first looked to see that no bones were broken, prepared to make a terrible explosion; and it is impossible to say how the affair might have ended, had not the footman entered to announce that supper was ready.

Meanwhile Aunt Zsuzsi had also initiated her hostess in the mysteries of their journey, with all its circ.u.mstances, and various innocent additions, such as, that her son Sandor had attained the highest honours, and that all the girls in their neighbourhood were desperately in love with him, although he never looked at one of them, considering it his duty only to fall in love with whoever his parents should choose for him, and so forth. This interesting conversation was suddenly interrupted by loud cries issuing from the nursery; and little Klarika appeared, sobbing out that Peterke had first twisted her doll's neck, and then threatened to strike her.

”You naughty boy!” said mamma, as the little urchin came sliding in behind, ”where shall I find a rod to punish you with? Is this the way you behave in your aunt's house? Come here, directly.”

Peterke not only would not come out, but retreated under the bed, looking out from below at dear mamma, and neither threats nor entreaties could prevail on him to quit his position. Supper was now announced.

”Just stay where you are,” said mamma, ”and I shall lock the door till we return from supper.”

The head of the family having entered with his guests, the whole party proceeded to supper, with the exception of little Peterke, and took their places round the table, which latter ceremony, however, did not take place without a good deal of trouble, each person paying compliments to his neighbour, during which the lady of the house was obliged to use force to make her guest sit at the head of the table; while a complete struggle took place at the opposite side between Uncle Lorincz and Sandor; the former, however, being the stronger of the two, at last succeeding in placing our nephew beside him.

”You must learn, my dear boy,” said Uncle Lorincz, ”what the high sheriff of Bihar taught me while I was his clerk; when I was invited to my princ.i.p.al's table, and I too pleaded for the lowest place--'Just sit down where you like,' said the excellent man, 'and rest a.s.sured, wherever that is, it will always be the lowest place.'”

When a blessing had been asked, the savoury gulyas hus[2] was brought round, the very name of which, even on paper, seems to emit that delicious flavour which every Hungarian housewife knows so well to give it.

[Footnote 2: A favourite national dish. It is a stew or hash of beef, with onions and red pepper, and other spices.]

After the gulyas came the fogas;[3] fortunately the footman carried it round, otherwise the company would have been obliged to draw lots who should be helped first. When it came to Sandor's turn, he declined, to the surprise of every body.

[Footnote 3: A fish said to be peculiar to the Balaton or Platten Lake in Hungary, and to the Black Sea and the Wolga. It is the _Perca Lucioperca_.]

”You don't eat fogas?” said Uncle Lorincz, opening his eyes wide.

”Thank you,” replied his father for him; ”he eats very little in general.”

”Hm! perhaps the boy is particular,” thought Uncle Lorincz.--”Well, there may be something else which he will be able to eat.”

Then came a dish of good turos galuska,[4] the crisp pastry smiling from out of the rich curds and cream, and still hissing on the dish.

[Footnote 4: b.a.l.l.s of pastry in curds.]

”You will eat some of this?” said Uncle Lorincz, turning to his neighbour, as the dish came round.

”I thank you, I am not hungry; and I have a little headache.”

But our nephew was as hungry as anybody else, and had not the slightest headache. The fact was, he was not accustomed to eat till after he had been pressed a dozen times, and his plate filled perforce.