Louder and louder this cry arose, now here, now there, and when our guest took it up even the gloomiest faces brightened. We broke the sacred wafer, then we emptied the first glasses. My industrious scullion had been deeply moved by a folk-song from the Ukraine, one of those songs rich in poetical feeling and simple metaphor which go straight to the heart; he therefore got up to make the welcoming speech, and, encouraged by the tears of joy which rose in the eyes of our guest, he quite took possession of him. He told him that he and I had worked uninterruptedly for two days and nights in the sweat of our brows, so as to give him a noble repast after his many days of privation and hunger; he forecast the whole menu, beginning with his favourite Kutja, he drew close to him and put his arm round his neck, laughing gaily, and seemingly inspiring him so that he wept tears of joy. Our animated mood rose higher and higher. A storm of applause greeted the first course. The student filled the guest's plate to the brim. At last the harmonious rattle of the spoons replaced the laughing and talking. 'Excellent,' was the universal verdict. My scullion was in raptures and loudly assented; finally he too became silent and applied himself like us to his plate. But what in the name of God did this mean? We were all eating, only our guest fumbled about with his spoon and stirred his soup without eating, laughing the while with a suppressed, hardly audible laugh. 'My God, what is it? why don't you eat, comrade?' several voices called in unison. 'The scullion has been exciting him too much! Off with him! Our guest must have serious people next to him.' The student obediently changed places, and we turned to our food again. But still our guest did not eat. What was the matter? We stopped eating and all eyes were turned questioningly upon him. Our silent anxiety was sufficiently eloquent. He perceived, felt it and said: 'I... forgive me... I... my happiness... I am so sorry... I do not want to trouble you, and I fear I shall spoil your pleasure. I beg you... I entreat you, dear brothers, take no notice of me...it is nothing, it will pass,' and he broke into a strange sobbing laugh. 'Jesus, Mary!' we all cried, for we had not noticed before how unnatural his laugh was; there was no further thought of eating; and he, when he saw the general anxiety, mastered himself with an effort and said rapidly amidst the general silence: