Sipos.
He was wearing mourning in his hat and tried hard to lend his face a
funereal appearance also.
"Have you heard the news?" he asked.
Mr. Sipos had heard nothing.
"Don't you see the mourning in my hat? Alas! my poor niece, unhappy
Henrietta!"
"Well, what has happened?"
"Hatszegi has been drowned in the Maros."
"Impossible, he was a first-rate swimmer."
"His horse ran away with him, he had lost all control over it. When he
saw that the horse was determined to plunge into the river from the
high bank, he tried to spring out of the saddle, but his spur
unfortunately caught in the stirrups and the horse dragged him down with
it into the water. There in the full stream, with his head downwards and
his legs in the air, he vainly attempted to extricate himself. The
frantic horse swam with him to the opposite shore, dragging the poor
wretch after it, and before the opposite bank was reached, his head was
so shattered that it was impossible to recognize his features. It is now
a week since they buried him in the family vault at Hidvar. Poor
Henrietta! So young to be left a widow! And to have lost so handsome, so
beloved a husband through so sad a death! Really lamentable!"
"I wonder what the rascal is after now," thought Mr. Sipos.
"My heart really is breaking for her! If only there were not these
unhappy money differences between us.
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