To this speech courteous Prince Vladimir said nothing in reply. The guests looked at each other at a loss for the next event, and then feeling hungry and thirsty again fell upon the banquet with heroic strength. But Diuk sat at the board sad and silent until Vladimir spoke to him. "What ails your sad heart, bold youth?" he asked gently. "Is the feast not to your taste? Or do you fear the boasting time which is surely coming, when you shall have nothing of which you may brag?" "Prince Vladimir," said Diuk, "I am wealthier far than you are. For my father left me great riches, and I am used to fine white bread made from flour of Turkish wheat." Then courteous Prince Vladimir ordered his servants to bring wine of the greenest and cakes of wheaten flour. Diuk drank one half of the wine and poured out the rest upon the table as if its value were of no account, and some of the dogs licked the drops and then lay down to sleep. He took off the top crust of the fine wheaten cakes, ate the middle, and flung the rest to the other dogs. And even yet courteous Prince Vladimir blamed him not at all. But another Russian hero sprang to his nimble feet and cried, "What boorish fellow is this? He is not really Lord Diuk from India the Glorious, and for the first time to-day this fellow has drunk green wine and eaten fine wheaten cakes. He is a cow-herd, a fugitive serf from the castle of some nobleman, who has done his master to death, dressed himself in his embroidered garments, and stolen his goodly steed. He is not of noble birth, for as he walked I noticed that he looked not straight before him but at the shoes upon his feet. He has come here in order that you, Prince Vladimir, may feast him honourably and then give him a rich gift in accordance with your courteous custom." "I desire no treasure which can be given to me here," cried Diuk, "for I have wealth untold at home, and rich food and green wine in abundance. I had heard tales of wonder concerning Kiev city and came here to test the truth of what I had heard. But it is not with you as it is with us in India the Glorious." And even yet Prince Vladimir parted not from his courteous bearing but said gently: "Why did you stare about the church at Mass this Easter morning, instead of reverently bowing your head in the company?" "I stared about, Prince Vladimir," said the young man, "because I had heard tales of Kiev churches and of the richness of their beauty. But in this matter also, it is not with you as it is with us in India the Glorious. Your churches are of wooden beams with domes of timber, but ours are of stone with roofs of beaten gold. Our meanest houses are finer than your palaces of white stone. Your streets are foul with mire, but ours are cleanly swept and strewn with dry yellow sand.