But even if Michal had wished to take off the clothes there was no time to do so, for the housekeeper now said that supper was upon the table, and that the master of the house awaited his guests in the dining-room. Michal meekly bowed her head on her husband's shoulder, and allowed herself to be led into the presence of the great and terrible man.
The dining-room was in every respect like the other rooms. It had just as many angles and arches, and was whitewashed in precisely the same way. In the middle stood a table laid for three persons, each cover consisting of two pewter dishes, one on the top of the other. There were also two big-bellied, glazed jugs, with pewter lids, a chased silver tankard for one of the guests, a Venetian crystal glass for the other, and a wooden mug for the master of the house.
The master of the house already stood beside the table with his hands resting on the back of his chair. He was a tall, commanding figure, with very broad shoulders. He wore a brown Polish jacket with long sleeves, a broad, buckled girdle, and long jack-boots. His features were hard and angular, his hair short and bristly; but his beard, already grizzled, hung down in two long flaps, the ends of which were stuck into his girdle. His look was grave and tranquil, but without the slightest trace of human feeling.
Michal felt that her husband's hand was trembling as he approached the master of the house, though he made superhuman efforts to appear calm.
"Peace and blessing rest upon this house!" stammered Henry, whereupon the old man sighed deeply but without returning the salutation.
"Is your reverence the pastor of Great Leta?" It was the first time he had addressed Henry. His voice was deep and sonorous as if it proceeded from a bronze statue, his whole body seemed to reëcho the sound.
"I have been elected the successor of the late pastor. Forgive me, master, for causing you so much inconvenience!"
"Your visit is nothing unusual," returned the old man, "the late pastor of Leta was often a guest in this sad house," and he thereupon beckoned to his guests to be seated.
"This is my wife," stammered Henry.
The old man did not even affect the bare semblance of cordiality. He coldly said: "Women also, nowadays, seem to love sad spectacles." Michal, however, before sitting down, folded her hands on the back of the chair, and piously inclining her head said grace.