trovato/."

"By my soul, it is true," cried the Dutchman; "but, hush!--see, they are
going to cut up that great pie."

I turned my eyes to the centre of the table, which was ornamented with a
huge pasty. Presently it was cut open, and out--walked a hideous little
dwarf.

"Are they going to eat him?" said I.

"Ha! ha!" laughed the Dutchman. "No! this is a fashion of the Czar's,
which the Admiral thinks it good policy to follow. See, it tickles the
hebete Russians. They are quite merry on it."

"To be sure," said I; "practical jokes are the only witticisms savages
understand."

"Ay, and if it were not for such jokes now and then, the Czar would be
odious beyond measure; but dwarf pies and mock processions make his
subjects almost forgive him for having shortened their clothes and
clipped their beards."

"The Czar is very fond of those mock processions?"

"Fond!" and the little man sank his voice into a whisper; "he is the
sublimest buffoon that ever existed. I will tell you an instance--Do
you like these Hungary wines, by the by?--On the 9th of last June, the
Czar carried me, and half-a-dozen more of the foreign ministers, to his
pleasure-house (Peterhoff). Dinner, as usual, all drunk with Tokay, and