"There's plenty in him, sir," he used to say. "He'll be a great man, sir. What will you bet, sir?"
Gregorics was always delighted, for he loved the boy, though he never showed it. On these occasions he would smile and answer:
"I'll bet you a cigar, and we'll consider I've lost it."
And then he would offer the old professor, who was very fond of betting, one of his choicest cigars.
"I never had such a clever pupil before," the old professor used to say. "I have had to teach very ordinary minds all my life, and have wasted my talents on them. A sad thing to say, sir. I feel like that nugget of gold which was lost at the Mint. You know the tale, sir? What, you have never heard it? Why, a large nugget of gold was once lost at the Mint. It was searched for everywhere, but could not be found. Well, after a long examination of all the clerks, it turned out that the gold had been melted by accident with the copper for the kreutzers. You understand me, sir? I have been pouring my soul into two or three generations of fools, but, thank goodness, I have at last found a worthy recipient for my knowledge. Of course, you understand me, sir?"
But Pál Gregorics needed no spurring on in this case; he had fixed intentions as far as the boy was concerned, and folks were not far wrong when they (mostly in order to vex the other Gregorics) prophesied the end would be that Gregorics would marry Anna Wibra, and adopt her boy. Kupeczky himself often said:
"Yes, that will be the end of it. Who will bet with me?"
It would have been the end, and the correct way too, for Gregorics was fond enough of the boy to do a correct thing for once in a way. But two things happened to prevent the carrying out of this plan. First of all Anna fell from a ladder and broke her leg, so that she limped all her life after, and who wants a lame wife?
The second thing was, that little Gyuri was taken ill very suddenly. He turned blue in the face and was in convulsions; they thought he would die. Gregorics fell on his knees by the side of the bed of the sick child, kissed his face and cold little hands, and asked despairingly:
"What is the matter, my boy? Tell me what hurts you."