[15] A popular air sung in the streets.
Two or three assistants joined in the refrain, of which I did not understand a word; but as Márton uttered the final words, "Alas Mr. Dintenklek," his gestures were such as to lead me to suspect that this Mr. Dintenklek must be some very ridiculous figure in the eye of baker's assistants.
"Why, of course, Henrik must learn law. The old man says he, too, might have become a councillor if he had concluded his studies at school. What a blessing he did not. As it is, he almost murders us with his learning. He is always showing off how much Latin he knows. Yes, the old man Latinizes."
As he said this Márton could scarcely control the skin of his head, so often did he have to twitch his eyebrows in order to express the above opinion, which he held about his master's pedantry.
Then with a sudden suspicion he turned to me:
"You don't wish to be a councillor, I suppose?"
I earnestly assured him that, on the contrary, I was preparing for a vacancy in the county.
"Oho! lieutenant-governor? That is different, quite another thing; travelling in a coach. No putting on of mud boots when it is muddy. That I allow." And, in order to show how deep a respect he bore towards my presumptive office position, he drew his eyebrows up so high that his cap fell back upon his neck.
"Enough of dough-kneading for the present, Master Henrik. Go back to your room and write out your 'pensum,' for you will again be forbidden breakfast, if it is not ready."
Henrik did not listen to him, but worked away for all the world as if he was not being addressed.