As Your Honour
    only came to the Blue Mountains recently, and as no occasion has been
    since then of illustrating the custom since the Voivode was away, and
    the Voivodin then believed to be dead, perhaps I, who have lived here
    so long, may explain:

    When to an old Blue Mountain house a guest comes whom it is wished to
    do honour, the Lady, as in the vernacular the mistress of the house
    is called, comes herself to meet the guest at the door--or, rather,
    _outside_ the door--so that she can herself conduct him within. It
    is a pretty ceremony, and it is said that of old in kingly days the
    monarch always set much store by it. The custom is that, when she
    approaches the honoured guest (he need not be royal), she bends--or
    more properly kneels--before him and kisses his hand. It has been
    explained by historians that the symbolism is that the woman, showing
    obedience to her husband, as the married woman of the Blue Mountains
    always does, emphasizes that obedience to her husband's guest. The
    custom is always observed in its largest formality when a young wife
    receives for the first time a guest, and especially one whom her
    husband wishes to honour. The Voivodin was, of course, aware that
    Mr. Melton was your kinsman, and naturally wished to make the
    ceremony of honour as marked as possible, so as to show overtly her
    sense of her husband's worth. When we came into the courtyard, I held back, of course, for the
    honour is entirely individual, and is never extended to any other, no
    matter how worthy he may be. Naturally Mr. Melton did not know the
    etiquette of the situation, and so for that is not to be blamed. He
    took his valet with him when, seeing someone coming to the door, he
    went forward. I thought he was going to rush to his welcomer. Such,
    though not in the ritual, would have been natural in a young kinsman
    wishing to do honour to the bride of his host, and would to anyone
    have been both understandable and forgivable. It did not occur to me
    at the time, but I have since thought that perhaps he had not then
    heard of Your Honour's marriage, which I trust you will, in justice
    to the young gentleman, bear in mind when considering the matter. Unhappily, however, he did not show any such eagerness. On the
    contrary, he seemed to make a point of showing indifference. It
    seemed to me myself that he, seeing somebody wishing to make much of
    him, took what he considered a safe opportunity of restoring to
    himself his own good opinion, which must have been considerably
    lowered in the episode of the Wine Master's wife. The Voivodin, thinking, doubtless, Your Honour, to add a fresh lustre
    to her welcome, had donned the costume which all her nation has now
    come to love and to accept as a dress of ceremonial honour. She wore
    her shroud. It moved the hearts of all of us who looked on to see
    it, and we appreciated its being worn for such a cause. But Mr.
    Melton did not seem to care. As he had been approaching she had
    begun to kneel, and was already on her knees whilst he was several
    yards away. There he stopped and turned to speak to his valet, put a
    glass in his eye, and looked all round him and up and down--indeed,
    everywhere except at the Great Lady, who was on her knees before him,
    waiting to bid him welcome. I could see in the eyes of such of the
    mountaineers as were within my range of vision a growing animosity;
    so, hoping to keep down any such expression, which I knew would cause
    harm to Your Honour and the Voivodin, I looked all round them
    straight in their faces with a fixed frown, which, indeed, they
    seemed to understand, for they regained, and for the time maintained,
    their usual dignified calm. The Voivodin, may I say, bore the trial
    wonderfully. No human being could see that she was in any degree
    pained or even surprised. Mr. Melton stood looking round him so long
    that I had full time to regain my own attitude of calm. At last he
    seemed to come back to the knowledge that someone was waiting for
    him, and sauntered leisurely forward. There was so much
    insolence--mind you, not insolence that was intended to appear as
    such--in his movement that the mountaineers began to steal forward. When he was close up to the Voivodin, and she put out her hand to
    take his, he put forward _one finger_! I could hear the intake of
    the breath of the men, now close around, for I had moved forward,
    too. I thought it would be as well to be close to your guest, lest
    something should happen to him. The Voivodin still kept her splendid
    self-control. Raising the finger put forward by the guest with the
    same deference as though it had been the hand of a King, she bent her
    head down and kissed it. Her duty of courtesy now done, she was
    preparing to rise, when he put his hand into his pocket, and, pulling
    out a sovereign, offered it to her. His valet moved his hand
    forward, as if to pull back his arm, but it was too late. I am sure,
    Your Honour, that no affront was intended. He doubtless thought that
    he was doing a kindness of the sort usual in England when one "tips"
    a housekeeper. But all the same, to one in her position, it was an
    affront, an insult, open and unmistakable. So it was received by the
    mountaineers, whose handjars flashed out as one. For a second it was
    so received even by the Voivodin, who, with face flushing scarlet,
    and the stars in her eves flaming red, sprang to her feet. But in
    that second she had regained herself, and to all appearances her
    righteous anger passed away. Stooping, she took the hand of her
    guest and raised it--you know how strong she is--and, holding it in
    hers, led him into the doorway, saying:

    "You are welcome, kinsman of my husband, to the house of my father,
    which is presently my husband's also. Both are grieved that, duty
    having called them away for the time, they are unable to be here to
    help me to greet you." I tell you, Your Honour, that it was a lesson in self-respect which
    anyone who saw it can never forget. As to me, it makes my flesh
    quiver, old as I am, with delight, and my heart leap. May I, as a faithful servant who has had many years of experience,
    suggest that Your Honour should seem--for the present, at any
    rate--not to know any of these things which I have reported, as you
    wished me to do. Be sure that the Voivodin will tell you her
    gracious self aught that she would wish you to know. And such
    reticence on your part must make for her happiness, even if it did
    not for your own. So that you may know all, as you desired, and that you may have time
    to school yourself to whatever attitude you think best to adopt, I
    send this off to you at once by fleet messenger.