"Yes, he is quite well," replied the man, glad to have found his voice again; "he respectfully kisses your ladyship's hand. He also bade me say that God is good!"
"But what do you keep looking sideways for? At whom are the dogs barking?"
"At the black horse perhaps; it is a long time since they saw him."
"And you gave the purse to the Mirza?"
Instead of answering this question, Andy began to fumble about in the pocket of his sheepskin jacket, and as this pocket was very high up, narrow and deep, his features expressed the most exquisite torture till he had fished up the parchment, and he trembled all over as he handed it to his mistress.
"Is there still much in arrear? What says the Mirza?" asked Lady Apafi, with a very shaky voice.
"There is not much more. One might even say there is very little," replied Andy, with downcast eyes, fumbling in his confusion with the rim of his hat.
"But how much, how much then?" they all cried together.
Andy got very red.
"Well—well, there is nothing at all!"