"Oh, the silks in fashion!... ornaments—sets of jewels!"
"All of them for your——?"
"Yes, all for my most noble sister, the devout matron Bezilla; one must help one's near relatives! She trusts nobody's taste but mine for choosing stuffs. From early morning I am under her orders. My head goes round, but I don't complain. No!... No!... Bezilla is so good ... such a holy woman!"
"Unfortunately old," laughed Krokala. "Here, boy, wipe the sweat off the black mare with fresh fig leaves."
"Old age also has its virtues," replied the sub-deacon, gently rubbing together his white hands; they were loaded with rings.
Then he whispered in Krokala's ear: "This evening?"
"I'm not sure ... perhaps. Are you going to bring me something?"
"You needn't be afraid, Krokala, I won't come empty-handed! There's a piece of stuff ... a quite marvellous pattern."
He kissed two of his fingers, adding: "Something perfectly dazzling!"
"Where did you pick it up?"