"Well, what have you got there?" said Mistress Debora,—instead of wishing me good morning.
I advanced, and, taking up her bony fingers, pressed them against my teeth—bah! I have never been able to pick a bone since. "Ah! my dear, worthy aunt, have you forgotten me? I am that little, fair-haired Peter Csallokozi, who used to bring young pigeons so often to his dear aunt."
"And who used to break my windows so often with pebbles. Well, you have grown big enough, at any rate."
"But my dear aunt has preserved her looks quite wonderfully, or rather I should say, grows younger."
"Ay, I was handsome enough in my day; folks can tell you that I used to wash my face every evening with warm milk, which made my skin so white, one can see that still—(it required imagination); there is not so handsome a girl in the country as I was in my young days—your father may remember that—('when you were young the priest was not born that christened my father,' thought I, but did not say it). For some years past I have lost much of my looks, certainly. Ay, ay, there is nothing lasting under the sun!"
Meanwhile I had been drawing nearer to Esztike, which the dragon observing, desired her to go out and see if the labourers were come. Esztike rose and went out.
"Well, let me hear what you have to say, nephew; and tell it quickly, for we are always busy here."
"To come to the point then, I must observe, dear aunt, that in these days we cannot be too cautious; misfortune meets us at every step, and"—
"Therefore we should stay at home and mind our business. Nothing can happen to us at home."
"Not to ourselves perhaps, but there are other creatures about us, aunt; for instance, you have cats and so have we"—