"Can I have a room!"
"Certainly! If the gentleman will kindly go upstairs," was the reply, delivered in excellent German, although with a strong accent. "Mizka, show the gentleman up to Number Two."
Mizka, a pretty slender girl, tripped lightly before me up the stairs leading up two flights directly from the kitchen to a wide entry, where she threw open the door of Number Two, and courteously held it open for me to precede her.
The room was large, low, and square, with two small windows, looking out upon the street. It probably looked larger than it really was from the absence of much furniture along its walls. Between the two windows there was an old-fashioned sofa covered with gay chintz, and above its high back hung an oval mirror in a black varnished frame, while before it stood an extension table, which if pulled out to its fullest capacity would have accommodated twenty-four persons. A tall cedar clothes press, a washstand, six chintz-covered cushioned chairs, and a huge bed which had to be clambered into by the help of a chair, completed the furniture of the room. The walls, painted light green, were adorned with four gaily colored prints, each portraying a quarter of the earth in the guise of a very ugly and scantily clothed dame, whose distorted limbs reclined upon a fantastically shaped couch.
This was Number Two, my room. It certainly did not look inviting for a long stay; it was too bare, but it as certainly possessed the unexpected attraction of perfect cleanliness. Not a speck of dust lay upon the few articles of furniture, the bare floor was spotless, and the creases in the white bed linen bore testimony to its freshness.
"Will the gentleman take his supper here, or below in the dining-room?" Mizka asked me in very good German.
"I will come down as soon as I have washed," was my reply.
"I will bring fresh water immediately;" and she hurried away, returning presently with a can of crystal-clear water, and a supply of fresh towels, and followed closely by two gigantic porters, each of whom bore upon his shoulders one of my heavy trunks. Assuredly thus far I could not complain of lack of promptitude in the service of a Slav inn.
When I had freed myself from the dust of travel, and had changed my coat, I went down to the dining-room; the way led through the kitchen, where several men were sitting or standing around the hearth, talking familiarly with the hostess, who was busy meanwhile with her cooking. All greeted me politely as I passed through the room.
When Mizka showed me into the spacious dining-room, I took it all in with a rapid glance. Its arrangement could not be called elegant, but the cleanliness of the scoured tables atoned for its simplicity. There were but a few persons present. At a table near a window a young man sat alone, apparently absorbed in a newspaper. He looked up for a moment as I entered, disclosing a singularly handsome face, which was immediately hidden behind his paper. The face was thoroughly German. Such deep blue eyes, such fair, close curls are to be found nowhere save in Germany. He was certainly handsome, but his expression was too grave, perhaps even too stern and hard to allow of his being thoroughly attractive.