After the boy had had his wish, he crept below the covering, and was soon fast asleep. Mr. Dumany observed that my cigar had expired, and that I looked rather drowsy. "You are tired," he said; "let me lead you to your room."
"I have not slept for the last two nights," I replied; "but I shall not trouble you, as I can find my room easily, or else I can ask the valet. Pray stay and rest yourself."
"Well then, good-night and sleep well!"
But however sleepy I had been the moment before, these few words were enough to drive sleep from my eyes for ten nights to come, and to raise my curiosity to the highest pitch, for they were spoken in clear, well-pronounced Hungarian.
I gazed at him in utter astonishment, and he smiled. "You did not recognise me," he said, "but I knew you at once. I knew you very well, too—at one time: we have been colleagues once."
"Indeed? And how is that possible? Pray where was that?"
"In Budapest, in the Sándor Uteza Palace, the House of Commons."
"You have been a member of the Hungarian Parliament? When? And what name did you then bear?"
"The name I bear now, which is my own. Only I used to write it in Hungarian, Dumany Kornel."
"Still I don't remember. Neither your name, nor yet your face is familiar to me."