poor woman perished in the flames. Has no one of his many attendants and
servants escaped?"

"It seems not. But pray come in and listen to him; perhaps you will
understand him."

I went in, and found my practical Englishman beside the child, but
incapable of arriving at a mutual understanding. The injured travellers
and the hysterical women passengers were already snugly stowed away in
the ambulance carriages and well taken care of. The goats were again
under the protection of their legitimate shepherd, and that temporary
official, the long-legged son of Albion, was addressing all kinds of
questions in English to an obstinate little boy.

As I entered, and the child caught sight of me, the little face lit up
at once. He extended both his little arms in joy. "Please come," he
said; "I will be a good boy. I will speak!"

It is marvellous enough when a dumb child speaks; but what was my
surprise when I recognised these words, uttered in my own native
Hungarian tongue! Just imagine the five-year-old son of a wealthy
American, whose entire _cortège_ had been German, French, Italian, and
English, speaking Hungarian!

I took the little fellow up in my arms, and he put both his little arms
around my neck, and, leaning his soft cheek on my bearded face, he said
again, "I will be good, very good; but please take me to my papa. I am
afraid!"

"Who is your father, my child?" I asked. "What is his name?"