Then he came in--gentlemen, if I hadn't just heard it with my own ears!--holding out his hands, his old sinner's face beaming, his dachs eyes blinking slily, but with a beam of pleasure in them. "My dear sir, delighted." "See here, Krakow," I said, "look out. I heard every word just now." "What did you hear, what did you hear?" "The epithets you bestowed on me--dirty blackguard and heaven knows what else." "Oh that," he said, without a twitch of his lids. "I tell my wife every day that the doors are no good. But, my dear sir, you mustn't mind what I said. I always _have_ been angry that you stood by Puetz. And I tell you, sir, my womenfolk mix just as good punches as he. If you had come to us--Iolanthe!--Iolanthe's my daughter. Iolanthe!! The comfort of my soul! Doesn't hear, doesn't hear. Didn't I just say the doors are no good? But both those women are at the keyhole now! Will you get away from there, you hussies? Do you hear their skirts rustling? They're running away. Ha--ha! Those women!" Gentlemen, who could take offence? I couldn't. Perhaps I'm too thick--skinned? But I couldn't. What did he look like? The creature didn't reach much above my waist-line. Round, fat, bow-legged. But that absurd body of his was topped by a regular apostle's head, either St. Peter's or perhaps St. Andrew's, or somebody's of the sort. A fine, round, broad beard, with a band of white running down from each corner of his mouth, yellow parchment skin, thick crows' feet at the corners of his eyes, the top of his head bald, but two huge grey bushes over his ears. The fellow danced about me like wild. Don't for a moment suppose, gentlemen, that I was taken in by his goings-on. I had known him long enough. I saw through and through him. But--call me a simpleton if you will--I couldn't help it--I liked him. And I liked his surroundings. There was a little corner at the window with carved oak cabinets all around--the window overgrown with ivy--very cosy. The sun shone in bright and clear as in an arbour, and on the table in an ivory bowl was a ball of worsted, and a copy of _Daheim_, and a piece of nibbled cake. As I said, altogether comfortable and cosy. We sat down in the corner, and a maid brought cigars. The cigars were no good, but the smoke curled so merrily in the sunshine that I did not pay much attention to their burning away like matches. I wanted to begin to talk about my business, but Krakow laid his hand on my shoulder and said: "After the coffee!" "If you please, Krakow," I said. "After the coffee!" I courteously enquired about his farming and pretended great interest in his innovations, about which he boasted extravagantly, though they were as old as the hills to me. Then the Baroness came in. A fine old piece. A slender dame. Long narrow blue eyes, silver hair under a black lace cap, a melancholy smile, fine yellow hands. A bit too dainty for a country gentlewoman, and especially for such a boor of a husband.