Peter was quite anxious for him to be off that he might hear the sooner; but it struck him that, as Father Roger would be in Pest long before the end of the month if he made the journey on horse-back, and yet could not present himself at Court until the time appointed, he might perhaps be glad of a lodging of his own, though, of course, there were monasteries which would have received him. He offered him, therefore, the use of an old house of his own (in much the same condition, he confessed, as his present dwelling had been in), but in which he knew there were two habitable rooms, for he had lived in them himself on the occasion of his last visit to the capital. All was settled before supper-time, and Master Peter was just beginning to wonder when that meal would make its appearance, when the sharp, shrill sound of a horn gave him something else to think of. "Someone is coming! They are letting down the drawbridge," he exclaimed, with much satisfaction at the prospect of another guest; and shortly after, ushered in by Talabor, there entered the hall a young man, somewhat dusty, but daintily apparelled. His black hair had been curled and was shining from a recent application of oil, and in his whole appearance and demeanour there was the indescribable something which tells of the "rising man." "Ah, Clerk, it is you, is it?" said Peter, without rising from his seat. "My brother is well, I hope?" "Master Stephen was quite well, sir, when I left him three days ago," returned the youth, as he made an elaborate bow to the master, another less low, but delivered with an amiable smile to Dora, and bestowed a careless third upon Father Roger. "Well, and what is the news?" "Both good and bad, Mr. Szirmay," was the answer, with another bow. "Out with the bad first then, boy," said Master Peter quickly, knitting his brows as he spoke. "Let us have the good last, and keep the taste of it longest! Now then!" "You have heard, no doubt, sir, what rumours the land is ringing with?" began the clerk with an air of much importance. "We have!" said Peter, shrugging his shoulders; "let them ring till they are tired! If that is all you have jogged here about, gossip, you might as well have stayed quietly at home." "Matters are more serious than you are perhaps aware, sir," said the clerk; and with that he drew from his breast a packet done up in cloth, out of which he produced a piece of parchment about the size of his first finger. This he handed proudly to Master Peter, who snatched it from his hand and passed it on to Father Roger, saying: "Here, Father, do you take it and read it! I declare if it does not look like a summons to the Diet! There, there! blowing the trumpet, beating the drum in Pest already, I suppose!"