emely disagreeable that the tobacconist drew back a little,
not knowing what to expect.

"I will tell you something," said Schmidt, savagely. "You will have to
change your manners if you expect any of us to work for you."

"What do you mean?" stammered Fischelowitz, in whom nature had omitted to
implant the gift of physical courage, except in such measure as saved him
from the humiliation of being afraid of his wife.

"I mean what I say," answered the Cossack. "And if there is anything I
hate, it is to repeat what I have said before hitting a man." His fists
were clenched already, and one of them looked as though it were on the
point of making a very emphatic gesture. Fischelowitz retired backwards
into the front shop, while Vjera looked on from within, now pale again and
badly frightened.

"Herr Schmidt! Herr Schmidt! Please, please be quiet! It does not matter!"
she cried.

"Then what does matter?" inquired the Cossack over his shoulders, "If
Vjera has cut off her hair," he said, turning again to Fischelowitz, "she
has had a good reason for it. It is none of your business, nor mine
either."

So saying he was about to go back to his work again.

"Upon my word!" exclaimed the tobacconist. "Upon my word! I do not
understand what has got into the fellow."

"You do not understand?" cried Schmidt, facing him again. "I mean that if
you laugh at Vjera I will break most of your bones."

At that moment Akulina's stout figure appeared, entering from the street.
The Cossack stood still, glaring at her, his face growing white and
contracted with anger. He was becoming dangerous, as good-tempered men
will, when roused, especially when they have been brought up among people
who, as a tribe, would rather fight than eat, at any time of day, from
pure love of the thing. Even Akulina, who was not timid, hesitated as she
stood on the threshold.

"What has happened?" she inquired, looking from Schmidt to her husband.

The latter came to her side, if not for protection, as might be
maliciously supposed, at least for company.

"I cannot understand at all," said Fischelowitz, still edging away.

"You understand well enough, I think, and as for you, Frau Fischelowitz, I
have something to talk of with you, too. But we will put it off until
later," he added, as though suddenly changing his mind.

The Count himself had appeared in the doorway behind Akulina. Both she and
her husband stood aside, looking at him curiously.

"Good