at he gives you and drink what there is in the
bottle as he directs you, the baby will die--you understand? You must
give nothing away; nothing even to your husband."

The next patient was the man whose voice had been heard from the safe
retreat of the background. His dominant malady was obvious. A shaky
hand, an unsteady eye, and a bloated countenance spoke for themselves.
But he had other diseases more or less developed.

"So you have no good to tell of your prince," said Paul, looking into
the man's face.

"Our prince, Excellency! He is not our prince. His forefathers seized
this land; that is all."

"Ah! Who has been telling you that?"

"No one," grumbled the man. "We know it; that is all."

"But you were his father's serfs, before the freedom. Let me see your
tongue. Yes; you have been drinking--all the winter. Ah! is not that so,
little father? Your parents were serfs before the freedom."

"Freedom!" growled the man. "A pretty freedom! We were better off
before."

"Yes; but the world interfered with serfdom, because it got its
necessary touch of sentiment. There is no sentiment in starvation."

The man did not understand. He grunted acquiescence nevertheless. The
true son of the people is always ready to grunt acquiescence to all that
sounds like abuse.

"And what is this prince like? Have you seen him?" went on Paul.

"No; I have not seen him. If I saw him I would kick his head to pieces."

"Ah, just open your mouth a little wider. Yes; you have a nasty throat
there. You have had diphtheria. So you would kick his head to pieces.
Why?"

"He is a tchinovnik--a government spy. He lives on the taxes. But it
will not be for long. There is a time coming--"

"Ah! What sort of a time? Now, you must take this to the starosta. He
will give you a bottle. It is not to drink. It is to wash your throat
with. Remember that, and do not give it to your wife by way of a tonic
as you did last time. So there are changes coming, are there?"

"There is a change coming for the prince--for all the princes," replied
the man in the usual taproom jargon. "For the Emperor too. The poor man
has had enough of it. God made the world for the poor man as well as for
the rich. Riches should be equally divided. They are going to be. The
country is going to be governed by a Mir. There will be no taxes. The
Mir makes no taxes. It is the tchinovniks who make the taxes and live on
them."

"Ah, you are very eloquent, little father.