blows of the carpenter's hatchet; at their ends hung
balls, somewhat resembling the buttons that the Jews hang on their
foreheads when they pray, and which, in their own, tongue, they call
_cyces_. In a word, from a distance the tottering, crooked tavern was like
a Jew, when he nods his head in prayer; the roof is his cap, the
disordered thatch his beard, the smoky, dirty walls his black frock, and
in front the carving juts out like the _cyces_ on his brow.

In the centre of the tavern was a partition like that in a Jewish school;
one portion, divided into long and narrow rooms, was reserved exclusively
for ladies and gentlemen who were travelling; the other formed one immense
hall. Along each wall stretched a many-footed narrow, wooden table; by it
were benches, which, though lower, were as like the table as children are
like their father. On these benches around the room sat peasants, both men
and women, and likewise some of the minor gentry, all in rows; only the
Steward sat by himself. After early Mass they had come from the chapel to
Jankiel's, since it was Sunday, to have a drink and to amuse themselves.
By each a cup of greyish brandy was already frothing, the hostess was
running about with the bottle, serving every one. In the centre of the
room stood the host, Jankiel, in a long gown that reached to the floor,
and was fastened with silver clasps; one hand he had tucked into his black
silk girdle, with the other he stroked in dignified fashion his grey
beard. Casting his eye about, he issued orders, greeted the guests who
came in, went up to those that were seated, and started conversation,
reconciled persons quarrelling, but served no one--he only walked to and
fro. The Jew was old, and famed everywhere for his probity; for many years
he had been keeping the tavern, and no one either of the peasants or of
the gentry had ever made complaint against him to his landlord. Of what
should they complain? He had good drinks to choose from; he kept his
accounts strictly, but without any knavery; he did not forbid merriment,
but would not endure drunkenness. He was a great lover of entertainments;
at his tavern marriages and christenings were celebrated; every Sunday he
had musicians come from the village, including a bass viol and bagpipes.

He was familiar with music and was himself famous for his musical talent;
with the dulcimer, his national instrument, he had once wandered from
estate to estate and amazed his heare