ace, that on account of serious disputes between the father and the daughter the Count had imprisoned Maria Felicia in her chamber and threatened, if she would not submit to his desires, to take her to a convent, disinherit her, and bequeath her inheritance to his cousin’s son.
“So it is not yet decided who the real master of Hlohov is?” the stewardess said.
At these words the porter, still stupidly gazing, fiercely broke out:
“How dare you talk so before me? The master of this castle is my Andrew, and you all, as you stand here, are his dependents and his servants. You should have long been obeying him, and not he you; he should have long been commanding you, and not you him.”
Notwithstanding the solemnity of the moment, unstifled laughter broke out. The old man had been for some time more irritable and cross than usual, and so, according to their views, more amusing.
But their laughter for once provoked and infuriated him. He screamed, waved his hands,
