c room. Besides the Russian and the Cossack, there were three
public porters seated at the next table, dressed in their blue blouses,
their red cloth caps hanging on the pegs over their heads, all silent and
similarly engaged. Each had before him a piece of that national cheese of
which the smell may almost be heard, each had lately received a thick,
irregularly-shaped hunch of dark bread, and they had one pot of beer and
one salt-cellar amongst them. They all had honest German faces, honest
blue eyes, horny hands and round shoulders. Another table, in a far
corner, was occupied by a poorly-dressed old woman in black, dusty and
evidently tired. A covered basket stood on a chair at her elbow, she was
eating an unwholesome-looking "knoedel" or boiled potato ball, and half a
pint of beer stood before her still untouched. As for the Cossack and
Dumnoff, they had finished their meal. The former was smoking a cigarette
through a mouth-piece made by boring out the well-dried leg-bone of a
chicken and was drinking nothing. Dumnoff had before him a small glass of
the common whisky known as "corn-brandy" and was trying to give it a
flavour resembling the vodka of his native land by stirring pepper into it
with the blade of an old pocket-knife. Both looked up, without betraying
any surprise, as the Count entered and sat himself down at the end of
their oblong table, facing the open window and with his back to the room.
A word of greeting passed on each side and the two relapsed into silence,
while the Count ordered a sausage "with horse-radish" of the sour-sweet
maiden of five-and-thirty who waited on the guests. The Cossack, always
observant of such things, looked at the oddly-shaped package which the
Count had brought with him, trying to divine its contents and signally
failing in the attempt. Dumnoff, who did not like the Count's
gentlemanlike manners and fine speech, sullenly stirred the fiery mixture
he was concocting. The colour on his prominent cheek-bones was a little
brighter than before supper, but otherwise it was impossible to say that
he was the worse for the half-pint of spirits he had certainly absorbed
since leaving his work. The man's strong peasant nature was proof against
far greater excesses than his purse could afford.

"What is the news?" inquired Johann Schmidt, still eyeing the bundle
curiously, and doubtless hoping that the Count would soon inform him of
the contents. But the latter saw the look and glanced