"So I am. Still it makes me laugh to think that the very men who now divide the county trace their origin as political parties to an idle controversy on the uniforms of the county-hussars. Hence the yellows and the blacks. I am sure your Excellency would laugh if you had seen their committee-rooms. Rety's head-quarters ring with high praises of his patriotism, for his having at the last election fixed the price of meat at threepence a pound; while in the next house you find all the butchers of the county for Bantornyi, the intrepid champion of protection and threepence-halfpenny. Just now, at the café, I overheard an argument on Vetshöshy's abilities, which were rated very low, because he is known to be a bad hand at cards. In short, your Excellency can have no idea of the farce which is acting around us. Slatzanek called half an hour ago, lamenting the lose of two of his best Cortes. They were stolen."
"They were—what?"
"Stolen, your Excellency. One of the men is forest-keeper to the bishop. He is a powerful fellow, with a stentorian voice, strongly attached to his party, and very influential in his way. He is a black. The yellow party surrounded him with false friends; they made him dead drunk, and in that state, in which they keep him, they take him from village to village, with the yellow flag waving over his head, thus showing him off, and making believe that he had joined their party. The thing happened a week ago, and the fellow, fancying that he is with the blacks, shouts 'Eljen!' with all the fury of drunken enthusiasm. The blacks have made several unsuccessful attempts to rescue their leader, and three noble communities, who were wont to vote with the bishop's keeper, have joined Bantornyi's party. The other man is a notary at Palinkash. They have put him down to a card-table, and whenever the wretched man thinks of the election, they cause him to win or to lose, just an it serves their turn to keep him there."
The lord-lieutenant laughed.
"Have you spoken to Tengelyi, the notary of Tissaret?"
"He is coming. To see that poor man lose his time and labour is really distressing. I never saw more sincerity of enthusiasm and more manliness of feeling. The good man is almost sixty, and still he has not learnt that a village notary cannot possibly be a reformer."
"I am afraid he's tedious," said his Excellency; "but we must bear with him, since you tell me he is a man of influence."
"So he is, and more so than any notary in any county I know of. Vandory, by whom the clergy of this district are wont to swear, votes with the notary."
"He is a demagogue, I am told."
"No; I do not think that name applies to him. The principles, which demagogues make tools of, are the grand aim and end of his life. In short, he is half a century in advance of his age."