perhaps, exactly merit such an appellation, but who would dare to call
otherwise the dwelling of the lord of the domain?

On the morning when our tale opens, there had issued from this palace
the common enough command to the superintendent of the estate, to
furnish the master with a couple of strong boys, for service in the
stables, and a young girl to be employed in the wardrobe. Accordingly,
a number of the best-looking young peasants of Olgogrod assembled
in the avenue leading to the palace. Some were accompanied by their
sorrowful and weeping parents, in all of whose hearts, however, rose
the faint whispered hope, "Perhaps it will not be _my_ child they will
choose!"

Being brought into the court-yard of the palace, the Count Roszynski,
with the several members of his family, had come out to pass in review
his growing subjects. He was a small and insignificant-looking man,
about fifty years of age, with deep-set eyes and overhanging brows.
His wife, who was nearly of the same age, was immensely stout, with
a vulgar face and a loud, disagreeable voice. She made herself
ridiculous in endeavoring to imitate the manners and bearing of the
aristocracy, into whose sphere she and her husband were determined
to force themselves, in spite of the humbleness of their origin. The
father of the "Right-Honorable" Count Roszynski was a valet, who,
having been a great favorite with his master, amassed sufficient money
to enable his son, who inherited it, to purchase the extensive estate
of Olgogrod, and with it the sole proprietorship of 1600 human beings.
Over them he had complete control; and, when maddened by oppression,
if they dared resent, woe unto them! They could be thrust into a
noisome dungeon, and chained by one hand from the light of day for
years, until their very existence was forgotten by all except the
jailor who brought daily their pitcher of water and morsel of dry
bread.

Some of the old peasants say that Sava, father of the young peasant
girl, who stands by the side of an old woman, at the head of her
companions in the court-yard, is immured in one of these subterranean
jails. Sava was always about the Count, who, it was said, had brought
him from some distant land, with his little motherless child. Sava
placed her under the care of an old man and woman, who had the charge
of the bees in a forest near the palace, where he came occasionally to
visit her. But once, six long months passed, and he did not come! I