We embraced each other. We had to part. And who knew for how long?
Márton was nervous. "Let us go! Let Lorand too hurry on his way."
Why, ten years is a very long way. By that time we should be growing old.
"Love mother in my place. Then remember your word of honor." Lorand whispered these words. Then he kissed me and in a few moments had disappeared from my sight down the lower road among the hills.
Who knew when I should see him again?
Márton's laugh awoke me from my reverie.
"You know—" he inquired with a voice that showed his inclination to laugh—"You know ha! ha—you know why I told Master Lorand not to go in the same direction as the carriage?"
"No."
"Did you not recognize the coachman? It was Móczli."
"Móczli?"