He pulled hard at the crook, but at that moment a strong hand seemed to pull him back, and he awoke.
Some one was knocking at the door.
"Come in," he said sleepily.
It was the Mravucsáns' farm-servant.
"I've come for your boots," he announced.
Gyuri rubbed his eyes. It was day at last, the sun was smiling at him through the window. His thoughts were occupied with his dream, every incident of which was fresh in his mind. He thought he heard St. Peter's voice again saying: "Marry Veronica, my friend, and then you will have the umbrella too."
"What a strange dream," thought Gyuri; "and how very much logic it contains! Why, I might have thought of that solution myself!"
By the time Gyuri was dressed, it was getting late, and every member of the Mravucsán household was on foot. One was carrying a pail to the stables, another a sieve, and near the gate which last night's wind had partly lifted off its hinges, Gyuri's coachman was examining the damage done. Seeing his master advancing toward him, he took off his hat with its ostrich feathers (part of the livery of a Hungarian coachman is a kind of round hat, with two ends of black ribbon hanging from it at the back, and some small ostrich tips in it).