Debts of Honor, by Maurus Jókai
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Title: Debts of Honor
Author: Maurus Jókai
Translator: Arthur B. Yolland
Release Date: September 24, 2007 [EBook #22757]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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HONOR ***
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Team
WORKS OF MAURUS JÓKAI
HUNGARIAN EDITION
DEBTS OF HONOR
Translated from the Hungarian
By ARTHUR B. YOLLAND
[Illustration: Publisher's logo]
NEW YORK DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
Copyright, 1900, by DOUBLEDAY & MCCLURE CO.
TRANSLATOR'S NOTE
In rendering into English this novel of Dr. Jókai's, which many of his
countrymen consider his masterpiece, I have been fortunate enough to
secure the collaboration of my friend, Mr. Zoltán Dunay, a former
colleague, whose excellent knowledge of the English language and
literature marked him out as the most competent and desirable
collaborator.
ARTHUR B. YOLLAND. BUDAPEST, 1898.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Journal of Desiderius 1 II. The Girl Substitute 30 III. My Right
Honorable Uncle 59 IV. The Atheist and the Hypocrite 71 V. The
Wild-Creature's Haunt 104 VI. Fruits Prematurely Ripe 114 VII. The
Secret Writings 122 VIII. The End of the Beginning 131 IX. Aged at
Seventeen 143 X. I and the Demon 148 XI. "Parole d'Honneur" 172 XII.
A Glance into a Pistol Barrel 185 XIII. Which Will Convert the Other
199 XIV. Two Girls 225 XV. If He Loves, then Let Him Love 240 XVI.
That Ring 249 XVII. The Yellow-robed Woman in the Cards 258
XVIII. The Finger-post of Death 266 XIX. Fanny 281 XX. The Fatal
Day! 285 XXI. That Letter 299 XXII. The Unconscious Phantom 306
XXIII. The Day of Gladness 322 XXIV. The Mad Jest 330 XXV.
While the Music Sounds 341 XXVI. The Enchantment of Love 351
XXVII. When the Nightingale Sings 360 XXVIII. The Night Struggle
370 XXIX. The Spider in the Corner 383 XXX. I Believe...! 397 XXXI.
The Bridal Feast 407 XXXII. When We Had Grown Old 413
DEBTS OF HONOR
CHAPTER I
THE JOURNAL OF DESIDERIUS
At that time I was but ten years old, my brother Lorand sixteen; our
dear mother was still young, and father, I well remember, no more than
thirty-six. Our grandmother, on my father's side, was also of our party,
and at that time was some sixty years of age; she had lovely thick hair,
of the pure whiteness of snow. In my childhood I had often thought
how dearly the angels must love those who keep their hair so beautiful
and white; and used to have the childish belief that one's hair grows
white from abundance of joy.
It is true, we never had any sorrow; it seemed as if our whole family
had contracted some secret bond of unity, whereby each member
thereof bound himself to cause as much joy and as little sorrow as
possible to the others.
I never heard any quarrelling in our family. I never saw a passionate
face, never an anger that lasted till the morrow, never a look at all
reproachful. My mother, grandmother, father, my brother and I, lived
like those who understand each other's thoughts, and only strive to
excel one another in the expression of their love.
To confess the truth, I loved none of our family so much as I did my
brother. Nevertheless I should have been thrown into some little doubt,
if some one had asked me which of them I should choose, if I must part
from three of the four and keep only one for myself. But could we only
have remained together, without death to separate us or disturb our
sweet contentment, until ineffable eternity, in such a case I had chosen
for my constant companion only my brother. He was so good to me.
For he was terribly strong. I thought there could not be a stronger
fellow in the whole town. His school-fellows feared his fists, and never
dared to cross his path; yet he did not look so powerful; he was rather
slender, with a tender girl-like countenance.
Even now I can hardly stop speaking of him.
As I was saying, our family was very happy. We never suffered from
want, living in a fine house with every comfort. Even the very servants
had plenty. Torn clothes were always replaced by new ones and as to
friends--why the jolly crowds that would make the house fairly ring
with merry-making on name-days[1] and on similar festive
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