looked astounded to see a man with a valise—evidently, guests were not an event of everyday occurrence. But his countenance quickly assumed its professional smile and, with a nod of his unkempt head, he invited Morton in. To Morton’s inquiries, he responded in a curious jargon of German and Roumelian, which Morton understood sufficiently to be satisfied that he would find the accommodation he needed.
Bearing aloft an ill-smelling and smoky tallow candle in a tin receptacle, the landlord led the way up a stairway, the walls of which had been anciently plastered and whitewashed. Arrived at the upper floor, he entered a room and placed the light on a small table and the guest’s bag on a most uninviting looking bed. Then, turning, he gave vent to some more guttural sounds and left Morton alone. The sounds were intended to convey the information that the gentleman’s dinner would be ready in half an hour in