"Of course, sir, I understand. How stupid of me! I have heard of you, sir, and I knew your poor father; dear me, how very like him you are, and yet so handsome. I knew him very well," she added, smiling, "though he did not leave me 2000 florins. I was an old woman when he was still young. Well, sir, please go up and look at the umbrellas. I will show you the way, and tell you just where to look for them. Follow me, please, and I hope you will find the old gentleman's umbrella."
"I would give you fifty florins for it, Mrs. Müncz."
At the words "fifty florins" the old woman's eyes shone like two glowworms.
"Oh! what a good son!" she sighed, turning her eyes up to heaven. "There is nothing more pleasing to God than a good son, who honors the memory of his father."
She got quite active and lively at the thought of the fifty florins, and shutting the door of the shop, she tripped across the yard with Gyuri to the ladder of the loft, and even wanted to go up with him herself.
"No, no, stay down below, Mrs. Müncz. What would the world say, if we two were to go up to the loft together?" said Gyuri jokingly.
Old Rosália chuckled.
"Oh, dear heart alive!" she said, "there's no danger with me. Why, your father didn't even remember me in his will, though once upon a time ... (and here she complacently smoothed her gray hair). Well, my dear, please go up."
Gyuri Wibra searched about among the rubbish on the loft for quite half an hour, during which time the old woman came twice to the foot of the ladder to see if he were coming down. She was anxious about the fifty florins.
"Well?" she asked, as he appeared at last empty-handed.