As for utensils, there was only one gridiron hanging before the mouth of the oven, which was wide open, under the mantle-piece, and a great turnspit operated by a dog. A quarter of venison, like that before the fire, was hanging, all bloody, on an iron hook near the door. Thanks to the combined odors of the venison, the bacon, the sauer-kraut, the beer, the wine, and the kirchenwasser, the atmosphere of the room was so thick, or perhaps we may say, so nourishing, that a very little of it would have satisfied a delicate stomach. Without, the rain, mingled with hail, fell violently, pelting the windows. Two white-haired old Germans, clothed in loose gray coats, fastened at the waist by belts of buffalo hide, were preparing the repast of the lord of Henferester, who had been out hunting since the morning, and had not yet returned. These preparations were simple. The domestics drew towards the fireplace a long and massive oak table; at the upper end they placed the master's oaken seat, coarsely sculptured with his coat-of-arms, the back carried up to form a canopy, and to which no cushion gave ease. Before this seat they placed a plate, or rather a great dish of silver, a piece of bread weighing about two pounds, and three tankards, also of silver, which served at once as glasses and bottles. The first, destined for beer, held two pints; the second, for wine, one pint, the third, for kirchenwasser, half a pint. These tankards were generally filled a second time during the meal. Table-cloths, napkins, and covers were things merely remembered, and were deemed ridiculous superfluities. Hunters of that day always carried two knives in their belts; one straight and long, for stabbing the beast; the other, thick, curved, and a little larger than an ordinary table-knife, was used for cutting him up. This last they invariably employed for carving their meat at table. The servants then laid pewter plates and pieces of bread at each side of the table. These inferior places were reserved for the servitors of the baron, according to their rank. The lord of Henferester, faithful to old and patriarchal traditions, ate with his domestics. On his right was the place of Erhard Trusches, his huntsman; on the left that of Selbitz, his major-domo. This last-named personage, having set the sauer-kraut to boil, and the venison to roast, aided Link, an old groom, in preparing the table. As to women, they were never seen in the castle. Every Saturday, old Wilhelmina, the minister's housekeeper, came to make and bake the bread for the week, while the baron was at the council at Vienna. Wednesday, the other council day, she put in order the linen of the castle, always in the absence of the governor, who regarded the fair sex with profound dislike. "The master is late to-night," said the major-domo, sadly looking at the quarter of venison, which was beginning to dry up.