"Yes, yes, she promised to be like that!" stammered Széphalmi, pressing the stranger's hand to his heart.
But old Hétfalusy was sitting up in bed and insisted upon getting up.
"I am going. I am going for her. Lead me to her. I will fetch her."
"Softly, softly, sir. Lie down again! Remember that I am a doctor, and I have still to cure you. You must continue to lie in bed for some time, and cannot yet see your grandchild. The girl is with folks who love her. Her adopted father is all love, you have been all hatred. You must first be cured of that evil sickness."
"Of what sickness? I am no longer sick. I am quite cured."
"Of hatred. You have a cast-off son who perhaps at this very moment is standing on the threshold of destruction. You have no thought for him. You have still some hard stones in your heart. Those stones must first of all be pulverized and dissolved. Now if this son of yours were standing here, and you were to stretch out your arms to him and say, 'My child!' then you would be cured, then you might very well say, 'I am no longer sick.'"
"And shall I not see my child till then?" wailed Széphalmi.
"Sir, you are very exacting."
"Ask of me what you will, I place all my property at your disposal. If you will not bring my child hither, at least take me where I may see her. You need not tell her I am her father, I only want to exchange a word or two with her. Whatever price you may put on such a service I shall not consider it too great."
"Sir, I am no impostor who wants to make money out of you. The only recompense I claim for restoring to you your lost child is that you welcome back the youth who was driven from this home. I have odd desires sometimes, but I stick to them."