"Why, what great misfortune can have befallen Abellino that our friend Kecskerey can speak of him so lightly?" inquired Livius, turning towards Rudolf. "Generally speaking, he is in the habit of treating him with greater respect in view of his ultimate claims to the Kárpáthy estates."
Rudolf shrugged his shoulders. What did it matter to him what befell Abellino?
Look; now he is coming in! He had still that defiant, devil-may-care step, that haughty, insolent look, as if the whole world were full of his lackeys, that repellent beauty, for his features were as vacant as they were handsome.
"Ah, good evening, Bélá; good evening, Bélá!" screeched our friend Kecskerey, while Abellino was still some distance off; he did not move from his place, but sat there with his arms embracing his legs like the two of clubs as it is painted on old Hungarian cards.
Abellino went towards Kecskerey. He attributed the fact that he drew after him a whole group of gentlemen, who quitted the tea-tables and the whist-tables to crowd around him, to the particular respect of the present company to himself personally.
"I congratulate you," cried Kecskerey, in a shrill nasal voice, waving his hands towards Abellino.
"What for, you false club?"
Thus it was clear that Abellino also was struck by Kecskerey's great resemblance to the historical playing-card already mentioned, and this sally brought the laughter over to his side.
"Don't you know that I have just come from nunky, my dear?"