But don't think, dear soul, that his features are black, oh, dear, no! I call him 'Blackey' because he always wears a mask of black velvet lest he should be recognized, only his eyes and mouth are ever visible." And with such comforting assurances she escorted Henrietta and Clementina up the narrow staircase.
They had to pass through the long tap-room before they came to the inner parlour.

At the guest table were sitting three hardy looking young fellows and an old pock-marked man, a foxey-eyed rascal who drank out of the others' glasses from time to time and kept the conversation going.
"Come! shut up, Ripa!" said the landlady to the old man.

"This is no Jew-Madame, but the spouse of my lord, Baron Hatszegi.

Show your manners if you have any and thank her for the honour." The old rascal rose from his bench with cunning humility and twisting up both ends of his gray moustache, politely kissed Henrietta's hand, and would have paid the same compliment to Clementina if the landlady had not prevented him by shouting: "Leave her alone, she is only a sort of servant!" With that she led the ladies into the inner room, where were two lofty bedsteads reaching to the beams above, covered with bright bedding and prettily painted over with tulips and roses.

In the window screens were wide-spreading rosemary and musk plants.