CHAPTER XIX.
ZOLTAN KARPATHY.
What Abellino had cause to tremble at had really happened.

Madame John Karpathy had become a mother.

A son was born to her.
Early one morning the family doctor invaded the sanctum of the Nabob with the joyful intelligence--"Your wife has borne you a son!" Who can describe the joy of Squire John thereat?
What he had hitherto only ventured to hope, to imagine, his hardiest, most ardent desire was gratified: his wife had a son! A son who would be his heir and perpetuate his name! who was born in happier times, who would make good the faults of his father, and by means of his youthful virtues fulfil the obligations which the Karpathy family owed to its country and to humanity.
If only he might live long enough to hear the child speak, to read a meaning in his sweet babblings, to speak words to him that he might understand and never forget, so that in the days to come, when he was the _feted_ hero of all great and noble ideas, he might say, "I first heard of these things from that good old fellow, John Karpathy." What should be the child's name?
It should be the name of one of those princes who drank out of the same wine-cup with the primal ancestor of the House of Karpathy on the fair plains of Hunnia.

It should be Zoltan--Zoltan Karpathy--how beautifully that would sound! Presently they brought to him this new citizen of the world, and he held him in his arms and kissed and embraced him.

He could scarce see him for the tears of joy that streamed from his eyes, and yet how greatly he longed to see him! With twinkling eyes he regarded the child, and a fine, vigorous little lad it was, like a little rosy-cheeked angel; his little hands and neck were regularly wrinkled everywhere from very plumpness, his mouth was hardly larger than a strawberry, but his sparkling eyes, than which no precious stone was ever of a purer azure, were all the larger by contrast, and whenever he drooped them the long lashes lay conspicuous on his chubby cheeks.