were indeed in London so much the worse for him. The chosen hand would
strike him down when his hour had come--even if it were not the hand of
the man he had wronged. In so far as Boriskoff betrayed intense emotion
before them, it may be that they despised him. What nation had been made
free by tears? How would weeping put bread into the children's mouths?
This was the sentiment immediately expressed by a lank-haired Pole who
followed the speaker. Let Paul Boriskoff write out his case and the
Committee would consider it, he said. If Maxim Gogol were adjudged
guilty, let him be punished. For himself he would spare neither man,
woman, or child sheltered in the house of the oppressor. A story had
been told to them of an unusual order. He did not wholly regret that
Paul Boriskoff had not made a fortune, for, had he done so, he would not
be a brother among them to-night. Let him be assured of their sympathy.
The Committee would hear him when and where he wished.

There were other speakers in a similar mood, but the immediate interest
in the dramatic recital quickly evaporated. A little desultory talk was
followed by the serving of vodki and of cups of steaming coffee to the
women. The younger people at the far end of the hall, who had been
admitted to hear the music which should justify the gathering, grew
weary of waiting and pushed their way into the street. There they formed
little companies to speak, not of the strange entertainment which had
been provided for them, but of commonplace affairs--the elder women of
infantile sufferings, the girls of the songs they had heard on Saturday
at the Aldgate Empire or of the shocking taste in feathers of more
favored rivals. But here and there a black-eyed daughter of Poland or a
fair-haired Circassian edged away discreetly from the company and was as
warily followed by the necessary male. The dirty street caught snatches
of music-hall melodies. Windows were opened above and wit exchanged. A
voice, that of a young girl evidently, asked what had become of the
Hunter, and to this another voice replied immediately, as though
greatly satisfied, that Alban Kennedy had gone down toward the High
Street with Lois Boriskoff.

"As if you didn't know, Chris. Gawsh, you should 'ave seen her feathers
waggin' at the Union jess now. Fawther's took wiv the jumps, I hear, and
Alb's gone to the Pav to give her hair. Oh, the fine gentleming--I seed
his poor toes through his bloomin' boots this night