"
"Good gracious!" cried the itinerant actor, thrusting his hands deep
down into his empty pockets, "what then do these big wigs call
considerable amounts. Very well, sir. I had no idea that the Baroness
Hatszegi was _so very poor_. I will try to recover the bill, and it
shall be the first thing I will pay off with my benefit money."
Szilard could not help being struck by the terrible comicality of the
idea.
"But, my dear young friend," said he, "if you had two benefits every
year and got a clear forty florins at every one of them, it would take
you at least a hundred years from to-day to discharge the amount."
"What?" cried Coloman with wide open eyes, and in his amazement seizing
the candlestick instead of his fork.
"Why, don't you know that the bill is for 40,000 florins?"
"What?" thundered the young vagabond. And kicking aside his chair, he
snatched up a knife lying by the side of his plate and, bareheaded as he
was, rushed towards the door. Szilard had need of all his dexterity to
catch him before he reached it and prevent him from rushing into the
street like a madman.
"Let me murder him, let me murder that villain," he cried.
Szilard was a strong man so he easily disarmed the youth.
Then Coloman began to weep and fling himself on the ground. Szilard
seized him by the arm and hoisted him on to a chair again.
"Be a man!" he cried.
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