71

“This is such a terrible story that happened in our area,” Imre Shandor finished his story with a sigh. “Now Istvan and I are comrades in misfortune, the crazy countess killed, among others, my daughter and his father.

The three of them were sitting in the Shandor library, sipping a honey drink. Father Paul, a short, plump priest with a good-natured face, pressed his hand to his chest.

“It’s terrible to imagine what you had to endure, gentlemen. Especially to you, Monsieur Nagy. How are you not afraid to poke your head in this lair?

“I had no choice, Reverend Father,” Isstvan replied simply.

The priest's eyes shone with sincere sympathy. He looked at the young man as if he wanted to take his pain upon himself.

- Do not despair, my son, the Lord is merciful, and in time your wounds will heal. Ah, if only I could help you!

Istvan, sincerely touched by the kindness of the churchman, looked at him gratefully.

Yes, I believe everything will be fine. However, let's talk about something more
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