I AND THE DEMON
It was already late in the evening when Bálnokházy's butler brought me a letter, and then hurriedly departed, before I could read it.
It was Lorand's writing. The message was short:
"My dear brother:—I have been betrayed and must escape: comfort our dear parents. Good-bye."
I leaped up from my bed:—I had already gone to bed that I might get up early on the morrow:—and hastened to dress.
My first idea was to go to Bálnokházy. He was my uncle and relation, and was extremely fond of us: besides, he was very influential; he could accomplish anything he wished, I would tell him everything frankly, and beg him to do for my brother what he was capable of doing: to prevent his prosecution and arrest, or, if he was convicted, to secure his pardon. Why, to such a great man nothing could be impossible.
I begged old Márton to open the door for me.
"What! discipulus negligens! To slip out of the house at night is not proper. He who wanders about at night can be no Lieutenant Governor—at most a night-watchman."
"No joking now; they are prosecuting my brother! I must go and help him."
"Why didn't you tell me at once? Prosecute indeed? You should have told me that. Who? Perhaps the butcher clerks? If so, let us all six go with clubs to his aid."