Baroness Orczy,
A Son of the People — Chapter 4
(1913)
“ Bideskúty had become purple with rage. “You confounded dog, and is not the word of a Hungarian nobleman enough? What can your greasy bits of paper compel me to do, if my own word of honour does not bind me to it?” “You see, my lord,” said the Jew, with the requisite amount of softness that turneth away wrath, “it is not for myself. My friends will require some guarantee from me. They are not used to dealing with honourable lords like yourself.” ”
