"But I want to settle it as soon as possible."
"I'll write about it to-day."
Gáspár did not wish to say any more about the matter, for fear of awakening the lawyer's suspicions, but a day or two afterward he sent a tiny cask of Tokay wine to him (some Pál Gregorics had left in his cellar, and which they had divided among them), with the inquiry as to whether he had any answer from Budapest. Sztolarik sent back word he expected a letter every minute, and thanked him very much for the wine; he also remarked to the footman who had brought it that he hoped it would go smoothly, but whether he meant the wine, or something else, the footman did not quite understand.
Hardly had the man gone, when the expected letter arrived, containing the news that Gyuri agreed to the sale of the orchard, and Sztolarik was just going to send one of his clerks to Gáspár, when the door opened, and in walked Boldizsár Gregorics, puffing and blowing from the haste he had made.
"Pray take a seat, Mr. Gregorics. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
"I've brought you a lot of money," gasped Boldizsár, still out of breath.
"We can always do with plenty of that," said the lawyer.
"I want to buy that poor orphan's little bit of property, 'Lebanon.'"
"'Lebanon'?" repeated Sztolarik, surprised. "What on earth is the matter with them all?" he muttered to himself; then continued out loud: "Perhaps you want it for your brother?"
"No, no, I want it for myself. It would suit me nicely; the view from there is so lovely, and the fruit-trees are so good."