"
"What is his name?"
"I don't think any one around here knows it. That is why his residence
has been called the Nameless Castle."
"But how is it possible that the name of a man who has lived here three
years is not known?"
"Well, that is easily explained. He never goes anywhere, never receives
visitors, and his servants never call him anything but 'the count.'"
"Surely he receives letters by post?"
"Yes, frequently, and from all parts of the known world. Very often he
receives letters which contain money, and for which he is obliged to
give a receipt; but no one has yet been able to decipher the illegible
characters on the letters addressed to him, or those of his own hand."
"I should think the authorities had a right to demand the information?"
"Which authorities?"
"Why--'he,' Bernat bacsi."
"I? Why, what business is it of mine?"
"The authorities ought to inquire who strangers are, and where they come
from. And such an authority is 'he'--Bernat bacsi!"
"Hum; does 'she' take me to be a detective?"
"But you surely have a right to demand to see his passport?"
"Passport? I would rather allow myself to be thrown from the window of
the county-house than demand a passport from any one who comes to
Hungary, or set my foot in the house of a gentleman without his
permission!"
"Then you don't care what people do here?"
"Why should we? The noble does as he pleases, and the peasant as he
must.
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