The father undressed the child, and put him to bed; then he drew the curtains aside; the child knelt in bed, folded his little hands, and evidently said his prayers, for I saw his lips move; but I could not hear a word. After he had finished, his father kissed him tenderly, covered him up with the angora rug, and, letting down the curtains, returned to me.
He had hardly sat down, when the bed-curtains moved, and the cherubic little head peeped out. "Papa! Papa!" said the child.
"What is it, darling?" his father asked, going back to him.
"I want you to kiss me again," he said, with a little mischievous smile.
After the boy had had his wish, he crept below the covering, and was soon fast asleep. Mr. Dumany observed that my cigar had expired, and that I looked rather drowsy. "You are tired," he said; "let me lead you to your room."
"I have not slept for the last two nights," I replied; "but I shall not trouble you, as I can find my room easily, or else I can ask the valet. Pray stay and rest yourself."
But however sleepy I had been the moment before, these few words were enough to drive sleep from my eyes for ten nights to come, and to raise my curiosity to the highest pitch, for they were spoken in clear, well-pronounced Hungarian.
I gazed at him in utter astonishment, and he smiled. "You did not recognise me," he said, "but I knew you at once. I knew you very well, too--at one time: we have been colleagues once."
"Indeed? And how is that possible? Pray where was that?"
"In Budapest, in the Sándor Uteza Palace, the House of Commons."
"You have been a member of the Hungarian Parliament? When? And what name did you then bear?"
"The name I bear now, which is my own. Only I used to write it in Hungarian, Dumany Kornel."
"Still I don't remember. Neither your name, nor yet your face is familiar to me."
"Naturally enough. I was in Parliament for only one day; the next day they conducted me out again."
"Ah, now I know you! You were the dead man's candidate."
Well, this was indeed a surprise. All the drowsiness had entirely gone from me, and, turning back into the room, I asked, eagerly--
"Sir, have I some claim on your generosity?"
"Oh sir! my dear friend!" he cried, extending both hands to me, "I am your most grateful and obedient servant for ever. I hand you a blank sheet, and, whatever you may be pleased to write upon it, I shall most willingly subscribe to."