"A little money. I thought you might want it for the journey."
"How did you come by it?" enquired my brother in astonishment.
"Why, you know, you yourself paid me two twenties a sheet, when I copied those writings."
"And you have kept it?"—Lorand opened the purse, and saw within it about twenty florins. He began to laugh.
How glad I was to see him laugh now, I cannot tell you, his laughter infected me too, then I do not know why, but we laughed together, very good-spiritedly. Now as I write these words the tears stand in my eyes—and I did laugh so heartily.
"Why, you have made a millionaire of me."
Then cheerfully he put my purse into his pocket. And I did not know what to do in my delight at Lorand's accepting my money.
"Now comrade mine, I could go to the end of the world. I don't have to play 'armen reisender'[50] on the way."
[50] Poor traveller.
When we stepped out again through the low door into the narrow dark courtyard, Márton and Móczli were standing in astonishment before us. Anyone could see they could not comprehend what they had seen by peeping through the window.