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 an indulgent ruler to his subjects, made a gesture with his hand towards both old and young Nešněra.

“Well, how is it, old man? Did we come to an agreement?” he asked with a hard foreign accent.

“The gentleman hasn’t been making any propositions to me,” answered old Nešněra, gazing with significant intimation at Schlosser’s hat until the latter grasped the reproach suggested and removed it from his head.

“Good, good!” nodded Nešněra contentedly. “We have on the walls pictures of our sainted protectors and they, at least, deserve that all who enter should bare their heads in greeting!”

A rustle of delight was heard from the doorway.

Schlosser, a little disconcerted, turned vexedly towards the door and asked young Nešněra, “What does this gaping crowd want here?”

“I say, sir,” the old man answered for his son, “they are not ‘a gaping crowd.’ They are neighbors. It’s an old custom here that when transactions like this are taking place, we never close the doors before our neighbors. After all, you know, it’s the affair of the entire community whether the estate is to be occupied by one of our own kind of people or some alien!”

Schlosser bit his lip, but he did not desire to quarrel with the old man.

“And you? Will you keep your agreement and ride with us?”

“I’ll go, gracious sir. I’m only waiting. It’s no