Ödön's hand was over his eyes and he was weeping.
"What is the matter?" cried the other in amazement. Ödön handed him the letter without a word, and he read its brief contents, which were in French.
"Your father is dead. Come at once.
"Your affectionate Mother."
Leonin's first impulse was one of resentment. "I'd like to get hold of that blockhead of a courier who brought you this letter. Couldn't he have waited till morning?"
But Ödön arose without a word and left the box. Leonin followed him.
"Poor fellow!" he exclaimed, seizing his friend's hand. "This letter came very mal à propos."
"Excuse me," returned the other; "I must go home."
"I'll go with you," was the hearty response. "Let those stay and see Mazeppa who care to. We promised that we would go with each other to hell, to heaven—and home. So I shall go with you."
"But I am going home to Hungary," said Ödön.