t accursed appetite or
hereditary perversity constrained even them to feed upon such meagre
fare, when the granaries and bacon-larders were in such tempting
proximity, Heaven only knows.

Master Jock, on perceiving the approaching steward, leaned forward in
his armchair, and held out his hand. Peter, however, instead of
advancing straight towards the hand extended towards him, retreated
backwards all round the large oak table, to avoid the discourtesy of
approaching his honour from the left hand; and, even when he got where
he thought he ought to be, he remained standing before him, at three
paces' distance, and bowed with deep respect.

"Come, come, man! Draw nearer!" cried the confidential heyduke
Palko,[7] who was also present. "Don't you see that his honour has been
holding out his front paw for ever so long?"

[Footnote 7: _I.e._, Little Paul.]

"Crying your pardon," said the worthy steward, drawing his hands away,
"I am not worthy of so much honour!"

And not for the whole world could he have been brought to extend his
hand towards Master Jock, to whom he alone of all the world gave his
proper title. It was also impossible to ever get him to sit down by the
side of his honour. Palko had to hold him down in a chair by main force,
but he would always jump up again, and remain standing before his master
as soon as the pressure was removed.

And, indeed, his honour, the steward, and the heyduke made up an
odd-looking trio between them. Karpathy's face, at such moments, was
always unusually serene, his great bald forehead shone like the cupola
of a temple, the scanty remains of his grey hair curled round his
forehead and the nape of his neck in silvery wisps; he was shaved
beautifully smooth, save for a well-kept moustache curling elegantly
upwards at both ends; the fiery redness of his eyes had vanished, and
there was no longer any trace of deforming wrinkles.

Opposite him stood the worthy steward, with the old-fashioned,
scrupulously obsequious, and infallibly respectful homage of a former
generation writ large on every feature of his bronzed countenance. His
moustache was clipped close to save trouble, but all the more care had
he bestowed upon his marvellous powdered top-knot--itself a
survival--which respectable elevation the worthy fellow revealed to the
light of day, neatly bound up with a black ribbon. Behind him stands
the old heyduke Palko in a laced dolman. He is just as old as they are.
All three