First of all you made all four of Hatszegi's horses lame; in the second place you compelled his poor wife to spend a night in a _csarda_ of the _puszta_, and in the third place you got so drunk that you began to quarrel with her and at last did not know whether you were boy or girl.

The poor little woman has grown almost grey with terror, and after you had fallen to the ground in liquor she sent the coachman to town for fresh horses and, leaving you under the table, tried to make her way back to Arad." "That is not true," interrupted Gerzson, his whole face purple with rage.
"What is not true ?" "Where is the baroness ?" "Stop, stop, my friend! Don't run away! You'll never catch her up, for, early this morning, she drove back to Hidvar in a postchaise with her husband." "That can not be true.

Did you see her ?" "I saw her through my own field glass.

But we all saw her--did we not, gentlemen ?" Many of those present admitted that they had indeed seen the baroness.
"But my dear fellow," said the perturbed Gerzson, "this is no joke.

On the contrary, my adventure with the baroness is somewhat tragical, and I'll trouble you to expend no more of your feeble witticisms on me." Kengyelesy shrugged his shoulders.