Even his shoes were inventions of his own, for no regular
shoemaker could have fashioned them. He held between the fingers of his
right hand a bit of lead-pencil, with which he would illustrate what he
described on the palm of his left hand.
"You come in good time, Master Matyas," said the count.
"Yes--yes. If only I had been in good time at the battle of Marengo!"
sighed the singular man.
"Too late now for regrets of that sort, Master Matyas," smilingly
responded Count Vavel. "Facts cannot be changed! I have a task for you
which I desire to have completed as quickly as possible. Come, and I
will show you what I want you to do."
It was the hour Marie spent in her garden; consequently the count was at
liberty to conduct the jack of all trades to the young girl's apartment,
and explain what he wished to have done.
Master Matyas listened attentively to what the count said, and took the
necessary measurements. When he had done so, he turned toward his
patron, and said in a serious tone:
"Do you know why we lost the battle of Marengo? Because General
Gvozdanovics, when Napoleon's cavalry made that famous assault, was not
clever enough to order three men into every tree on that long
avenue--two of the men to load the muskets, while the third kept up a
continual fire.
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