He approached the youth and, bowing respectfully, remarked,
"Mossoo! vooz ate oon anshantoor!"
"Possibly, but why should we not speak Hungarian?" replied the other smiling.
"Then you are not French?" asked the dumfounded doctor.
"Why should I be? It does not follow because a person may have just come from France that therefore he is a Frenchman, does it?"
"All the better pleased, I am sure, my dear colleague!"—and then it suddenly occurred to him that only a short time ago he had said to him in Hungarian: "The Devil may be your colleague, I'm not!"
"All you have to do now is to give the patient tonics; that won't interfere with my cure. I shall come back again in a few days, and by that time I hope he will be quite strong. Till then, let us trust in God!"
The young unknown then hastened to his carriage, Széphalmi accompanying him the whole way.
Everyone who had recently seen the old man apparently on the verge of the grave, and now beheld him completely changed, going about with a lively irritable temper and rosy cheeks, were amazed at this wonder-doctor who could perform cures by the mere touch of his finger-tips.
"He must be a magician!" said they.