[2] Relay of horses: Ger. Vorspann.
"That's it, that's it. A forspont! I want a forspont immediately."
"I have none, sir; all my horses are out to grass."
"C'est triste! Then here I'll remain. Tant mieux; it will not bore me. I have travelled in Egypt and Morocco. I have spent the night in as deplorable a hut as this before now; it will amuse me. I will fancy I am in some Bedouin shanty, and this river here is the Nile, that has overflowed, and these beasts that are croaking in the water—comment s'appelle ça?—frogs? oh yes, of course—these frogs are the alligators of the Nile. And this miserable country—what do you call this department?"
"It is not a part of anything, sir; it is a dam, the dam of the cross-roads, we call it."
"Fripon! I am not speaking of the mud in which I stuck fast, but of the district all about here. What do they call it?"
"Oh, I see! They call it the county of Szabolcs."
"Szabolcs, eh? Szabolcs? C'est parceque, no doubt, so many szabos[3] live in it, eh? Ha, ha! That was a good calembourg of mine, c'est une plaisanterie. Dost understand?"
[3] Tailors.
"I can't say for certain, but I believe the Hungarians so called it after the name of one of their ancient leaders who led them out of Asia."