"I'm talking about Mr. Governor Libor, and I say that he has turned Tartar!"
"Turned Tartar!" exclaimed several in amazement.
"It's fact," said the lad. "He has cast off his 'menti' and 'suba,' and doffed his great plume, and now he is going about like a reverend friar, with a cowl large enough to hold myself."
"Turned priest then, has he?" asked Master Peter.
"Priest to the devil, if he has any of that sort down below," said Matykó. "Priest, not a bit of it! He has turned Knéz! that's what he has done! The Tartars wear all sorts of church vestments, even the Khans do, blight them!"
"Knéz! what sort of creature is that, Matykó?" asked Ugrin.
"A sort of governor, something like an 'Ispán' (i.e., Count, or head-man of a county)—I don't know, but he has some sort of office, and our poor gentlemen prisoners must doff their hats to the wretch!"
"Well, nephew!" said Master Peter, with a laugh, for this was water to his own mill, "so you have chosen a pretty sort of fellow indeed to entrust your castle to!"
The King meantime had turned away to speak to the Knight Commander of the Templars, and Paul was able to go on questioning Matykó. He was beside himself with astonishment.
"How long has he been in such favour with the Tartars?" he asked.