manner that many of the citizens burnt their tongues by forgetting to blow upon their broth.
"Ah, well," said one of them, as he made a brave attack upon a great sirloin of beef, "Vasily may be here but he wasn't invited, while we were invited,—in fact I invited myself."
"Ah, yes," piped the small rag-merchant, who wore a coat of greater value than any, "we were invited but he wasn't." And with this consolation they went on with their feasting, Vasily being served as nobly as the rest with meat of the richest and wine of the greenest.
As the banquet went on the spirits of the citizens arose, and the small rag-merchant began to think that he might some day be bold enough to challenge even Vasily to mortal combat. As for the turbulent lord himself, he stood up when the merriment was at its height and issued a mighty challenge. He would go, he said, with his brave bodyguard on the following day to the bridge over the Volkof river, and would hold his own against all the men of Novgorod. Then he stalked from the room and across the snow-covered streets to his own palace.
At the doorway he was met by his widow mother, who noticed at once that he was aroused to turbulent anger. "Did they pass you with the dishes," she asked, "or did they jeer at you?" Vasily was too much moved to reply, but the bodyguard told her all the truth. Then the widow mother put her shoes upon her bare feet, cast her mantle of fine sables
