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Leaning on the table, Robak was discoursing in a low voice; a

throng of gentry surrounded him and pricked up their ears, and

bent down their noses to the Monk's snuffbox. Each took a pinch,

and the gentlemen sneezed like mortars.

"Reverendissime," said Skoluba with a sneeze, "that is fine

tobacco, it goes way up to your topknot. Never since I have worn

a nose"-here he stroked his long nose-"have I met its like"-here

he sneezed a second time. "It is real Bernardine, doubtless made

in Kowno, a city famous throughout the world for tobacco and

mead. I was there in--"

"To the health of you all, my noble gentlemen!"