One day, then, worthy Gregory Biró appeared before the kiosk of Feriz Beg and asked to be admitted.
At these words a Moor popped out, and, seizing him by the collar, conducted him to a room where a half-dressed man was standing before a fire cooking black potions in all sorts of queer-shaped crooked glasses. The Moor presented Gregory to the doctor as another messenger.
"What is your name?" he asked, venomously regarding him from over his shoulder, and treating him to the most terrifying grimace he could think of.
"Gregory Biró," replied the Szekler, nodding his head twice as was his custom.
"Gregory, Gregory, what do you want here?"
Gregory twisted his mug derisively at these words, and immediately reflected that the business was beginning badly, for the person before him did not in the least resemble Feriz Beg as described to him.
"I have brought a letter--from a pretty girl."
Gregory twisted round his short jacket that he might get at his knapsack; but while he was fumbling inside it he was cute enough to extract the contents of the letter from its cover, and only handed the empty envelope to the doctor.
"'Tis well, Gregory, now you may go," said he gently, and without so much as opening the envelope he thrust it into the fire and held the blazing paper under a retort which he wanted to warm.
"Is that the way they read letters here?" asked Gregory, scratching his head, and he crept to the door; but there he stopped, and while half his body remained outside he thrust his arm up to the elbow into the long pocket of his _szüre_,[17] drew from thence a diamond-clasp, and holding it between two fingers cried: "Look! I found this ring on the road not far from here, perchance Feriz Beg has lost it."
The doctor took the splendid jewel, and feeling convinced that only a nobleman could have lost such a thing, he said he would show it to Feriz Beg immediately.
"Ho! then you are not Feriz Beg after all!" cried the humorist.
"Gregory! Gregory! don't jest with me. I am the cook, and if I like you I will let you stay to dinner."
Gregory pulled a wry face at the sight of the doctor's stews.
The doctor thereupon took in the diamond-clasp to Feriz Beg, after bidding the Moor, whom he left behind him, not to drink anything out of the glasses standing there, or it would make him ill.