"Oh, there is no reason," said the prelate, with joyousness. "There is no toast yet, though the time will come soon for it. I see some of you gentlemen rubbing your heads rather early, and the Kohanovskis are whispering as well as counting on their fingers. It is difficult to expect rhymes from any if not from the Kohanovskis. I wish to say only that it is an old Polish and praiseworthy custom to leave thus a place for a guest who is unexpected." "Oh," answered Pan Gideon, "as the house is lighted up some one may come from the darkness." "And perhaps some one is coming," said Kohanovski. "It may be Pan Grothus?" "No-- Pan Grothus has gone to the Diet. If a man comes he will be unexpected." "But the earth is soft, we shall not hear him." "Well, a dog is barking under the window, so some one is coming." "No one will drive in from that side, for the windows look into the garden." "But the dog is not barking, he is howling." That was the case really. The dog had barked once, twice, a third time, then the barking turned to a low, gloomy howling. Pan Gideon quivered despite himself, for he remembered how years and years earlier in another place, at his house, which stood five miles from Pomorani, in Russia, dogs had howled in the same way before a sudden onrush of Tartars. The thought came to Panna Anulka, that she had no cause to expect any one, and that should any man come to her from the darkness to that lighted mansion he would be late in his coming. But it seemed somehow strange to other guests, all the more as the first dog was joined by a second, and a double howl was heard now near that window. So they listened in disagreeable silence, which was broken only after a while by Martsian Krepetski,-- "A guest at whom the dogs howl is nothing to us," said he. "Wine!" called Pan Gideon. But the glasses were full, hence there was no need to pour at that moment. Old Krepetski, father of Martsian, rose from his chair somewhat heavily, wishing to speak, as seemed evident. All turned their eyes to him. Old men began to surround their ears with their hands to hear better, but he only moved his lips after long waiting, his chin almost meeting his nose, for he was toothless. Meanwhile, notwithstanding the fact that the earth was soft from thawing, there came from the other side of the house, as it were, a dull clatter and it was heard rather long, long enough to go twice round the courtyard. Hence old Krepetski, who had raised his glass, held it a while, looked at the door, and then put the glass down again; other guests acted in like manner. "See who has come!" said Pan Gideon to his attendant. The youth rushed out, returned straightway, and answered,-- "There is no one." "That is strange," said the prelate. "The sound was heard clearly." "We all heard it," said one of the twin Sulgostovskis. "And the dogs have stopped howling," said others.