"I have also cigar-cases," said the peasant, humbly raising his hat. But his face was far more interesting than his wares. You rarely see such features! However great the misery on earth, this pale, pain-stricken countenance was unique in its kind, revealing yet traces of sullen defiance, and the glance of his eyes moved instantly the heart of the beholder—a weary, almost fixed gaze, and yet full of passionate mourning.
"You are a Pole!" I observed after a pause.
"Yes," he replied.
"And do you live in this neighbourhood?"
"At the inn eight werst from here. I am the keeper."
"And besides wood-carver?"
"We must do the best we can," was his reply. "We have but rarely any guests at our house."
"Does your hostelry lie outside the main road?"
"No, close to the high road, sir. It was at one time the best inn between the Bug and the Dniester. But now carriers do not like to stay at our house."
"And why not?"