CHAPTER XVIII.
Ráby could hardly bear the delay in getting home. When the open verdict was pronounced, a coach was already at the door of the Assembly House, to bear him on his way: he threw himself into it, while the sparks flew under the swift hoofs of his horses.
Szent-Endre was not, after all, the other side of the world, but the distance seemed endless. On the way, he racked his brains as to how he would find Fruzsinka. Yet he could not have possibly dreamed of what his actual home-coming would be.
As he sprang from the vehicle, to knock at his house-door, he found the summons of the court nailed under the knocker, with all the misdemeanours and crimes whereof he had been falsely accused before the tribunal, set forth at length. As is well known, these kind of summonses were fixed to the house-door, were there no means of presenting them to the person cited.
Rage drove every other thought from Ráby's mind when he found this disgraceful document fluttering over his door. He tore it down indignantly, and beat with hand and foot at the entrance to gain admission.
Poor Böske, the maid-servant, at last opened it, looking white and frightened. "Why had they allowed this thing to be fastened to the door," he inquired angrily.
"I humbly beg pardon," stammered the girl, "the gentleman who brought it nailed it there with a hammer, and said if I tore it down I should be hanged."
"Why did your mistress not do it?"
"The gracious lady-mistress?"
"Yes, my wife, where is she then?"