in Szent-Istvánhely, year in and out—who were not as lucky as my friend. She is absolutely charming—of high rank—an old Bohemian family—beautiful, talented, with the best heart in the world..... and—Istenein!» he exclaimed in a sudden, enthusiastic retrospect... «how she sings Brahms! They are the model of a match.... the handsomest couple that you could ever meet.»
«Ah ... is your marine friend of uncommon good-looks?» He glanced across at the acacia-tree opposite, as if not having heard my careless question, or else as it momentarily abstracted. I was about to make some other remark, when he replid, in an odd, vaguely-directed accent. «I beg your pardon! Oh, yes, indeed...my friend is of exceptional physique. In the service, he is called «Hermes Karvaly»... his family name is Karvaly.... though there's Sicilian blood him too—because he looks so astonishingly like that statue you know—the one by that Greek—Praxiteles, isn't it? However, looks are just one detail of Karvaly's unusualness. And to carry out that, never was
