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"Penknife," said the Seneschal, "though he did not go into exile,

nevertheless feared the result of an investigation, and hid

himself from the Muscovites; all winter the poor fellow roamed

about the forests, and he has only recently come forth from them.

In these times of war he might have been good for something, for

he is a valorous man, only he is unfortunately a trifle bowed by

age. But here he is."

Here the Seneschal pointed towards the vestibule, where servants

and peasants were standing crowded together. Above the heads of

all a shining bald pate showed itself suddenly like the full

moon; thrice it emerged and thrice it vanished in the cloud of

heads; the Warden was bowing as he strode forward, until finally

he made his way out of the press, and said:-