"Ay, by the beard of Moses! it is; and one could wear the beard of Aaron, too, with comfort—Aaron's beard was longer than Moses' beard; is not that what the priest says?" said Kabilovitsch, veiling his excitement under forced indifference of manner, at the same time making room for the visitor, who, without ceremony stretched himself by his side, bringing his face close to that of the old man, and glaring into it. Kabilovitsch returned his gaze with equal sharpness.
"What know you of the beard of Moses?" said the stranger. "Was it gray or black?"
"Black," said Kabilovitsch, studying the other's face with suspicion and surprise. "Black as an Albanian thunder cloud, and his eye was as undimmed by age as that of the eagle that flies over the lake of Ochrida."[14]
"You speak well," replied the stranger, pushing back his hood.
His face was massive and strong. No peasant was he, but one born to command and accustomed to it.
"You are——Drakul?" asked the man.
"No."
"Harion?"
"No."