"To General Vértessy,
"Sir,—By a divine miracle I have recovered within the last hour my power of speech, and the use of my fingers. The very first word I am able to speak and to write I address to you who have such good cause to hate me, and that word is—mercy! I ask of you mercy towards that son of mine to whom I myself have never shown mercy. I ask for mercy from you who in your judicial capacity have never shown mercy to anyone. You know full well that all the faults of this child of mine are due entirely to me. You know that my cruelty has made life a wilderness to him and filled him with cynical bitterness—he who was always so tender-hearted that even an angry look was pain to him. Behold, sir! the one man who could venture to insult you with impunity now lies in the dust before you, and begs for your compassion. And in order that such compassion may not appear as rust on your iron character, show this letter to the world and say: 'My mortal enemy has wept before me in the dust in order that I might condescend to stoop down and raise him up.' Your humbled, eternally faithful servant,
"Benjamin Hétfalusy."
"Would you look at this letter, sir?" asked the old man, turning towards the stranger—and there were tears in his eyes.
"I thank you," faltered the stranger, and he himself hastened to fold up the letter and seal it.
"Széphalmi will deliver it."
"Nay, sir, I will see to that myself."
"You will? But who, then, are you?"
"That I will tell you—perhaps—some day."
The old man took the youth's hand in both his, and pressing them warmly, said in a voice that trembled with emotion:
"God help you!"
At that moment Dr. Sarkantyús peeped in at the door, and was amazed to see the old man talking and writing the address on a letter with his own right hand, while his whole countenance was warm with feeling. This magnetic cure was truly marvellous.