A company of jackdaws sat on the top of the tower, looking
down in amazement on the strangers, and every now and then one flew off,
screaming loudly, to contemplate the intruders from a new point of view.

"A house for crows and bats, not for human beings," said Anton. "At
least, I see no way of getting into it."

The landlord now took them round the building. Behind, where the two
wings made a sort of horse-shoe, there were low entrances to the cellars
and offices; beneath which, again, were stables, great arched kitchens,
and small cells for the serfs. A wooden staircase led to the upper
story. The door turned creaking on its hinges, and a narrow passage took
them through a side wing to the front part of the house. There all was
at least magnificently planned. The circular entrance-hall--an arched
room of the old tower--was painted in mosaic, and through the great
doorway-opening was seen a wide expanse of country. A broad staircase,
worthy of a palace, led up to another round hall, with narrow windows,
the second story of the tower. On each side lay suites of apartments:
large, lofty, desolate rooms, with heavy oak folding-doors, and dirty
plastered walls, the ceiling made of fir branches arranged in squares;
in some rooms colossal green tile stoves, in other rooms no stoves at
all; in some, beautiful inlaid floors, in others rude deal boards. An
immense saloon, with two gigantic chimney-pieces, had merely a
provisional ceiling of old laths. The castle was fitted for a wild
Asiatic household, for hangings of leather and of silk from France, for
costly woodwork from England, for massive silver services from German
mines, for a proud master, numerous guests, and a troop of retainers to
fill the halls and ante-rooms. The builder of the castle had looked back
to the wealth of his wild ancestors when he devised the plan; he had had
hundreds of trees cut down in the woods, and his hereditary bondsmen had
kneaded many thousand bricks with their own hands and feet; but Time,
the inexorable, had raised his finger against him, and none of his hopes
had been realized. His ruin first, and then his death, occurred during
the progress of the building; and his son, brought up among strangers,
had, as fast as one fool could, hurried on the ruin of his house. Now
the walls of the Slavonic castle stood with doors and windows gaping
wide, but no guest spoke his good wishes as he entered; only wild birds
flew in and out, and the marten