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Debts of Honor   By: (1825-1904)

Book cover

First Page:

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... Continue reading book >>




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