Sándor Petöfi

“ The old man drew a deep breath of relief.
“I am going to tell you the whole story,” declared Carl. “You will see then that you ought to pity me, and not take revenge upon me. I can’t tell you how I have suffered. My happiness did not last long. I lived in a veritable hell. Your wife has the face of an angel—but all the devils there are, dwell in her heart. She is the worst tempered woman I have ever known in my life. I could not stand it a day longer—I had to run away and leave her—”
“My poor nephew—I do pity you from the bottom of my heart. ”

“ Now they could live happily. They had no material cares to worry about. And they thought now of course that the merchant did not recognize them. If he had, would he not have told M. Andrew von Csornay?
“And at the end of the year,” explained Carl, “the stranger will come again, and we shall have more money. Is not that what he said?”
“Yes, indeed.”
Six months after the departure of Madame Anna with her nephew, a young man appeared suddenly in the home of old M. Andrew von Csornay. His face expressed suffering and a decision reached in a mood of despair. ”

“ Only twenty-six years were his in which to live and purchase fame. Despite the fact that he took an active part in the wars which were numerous during his brief day, and was active as an editor and politician, he found time to write some of the finest lyric verse of his race, and tales in prose, and to leave a considerable correspondance with the distinguished men of the period. ”