a great curiosity, and a wish to obtain more exact information regarding the colonel's daughter. In order to lead the talk back to the subject, he turned to his next neighbour and said, "I should like to know why all the people here think that the young lady was a witch. Has she done harm to anyone, or killed them by witchcraft?"
"Yes, there are reports of that kind," answered a man, whose face was as flat as a shovel. "Who does not remember the huntsman Mikita, or the"
"What has the huntsman Mikita got to do with it?" asked the philosopher.
"Stop; I will tell you the story of Mikita," interrupted Dorosch.
"No, I will tell it," said the groom, "for he was my godfather."
"I will tell the story of Mikita," said Spirid.
"Yes, yes, Spirid shall tell it," exclaimed the whole company; and Spirid began.
"You, Mr Philosopher Thomas, did not know Mikita. Ah! he was an extraordinary man. He knew every dog as though he were his own father. The present huntsman, Mikola, who sits three places away from me, is not fit to hold a candle to him, though good enough in his way; but compared to Mikita, he is a mere milksop."
"You tell the tale splendidly," exclaimed Dorosch, and nodded as a sign of approval.
