The man was standing near the door, stolid apparently, but with his small eyes keenly watching. Reitzei said a word or two to him. Instantly he went--he almost sprung--forward; and this movement was so unexpected that the equanimity of the pallid young man received a visible shock, and he hastily drew out a drawer a few inches. Brand caught sight of the handle of a revolver. But the man was only eager to tell his story, and presently Reitzei had resumed his air of indifference. As he proceeded to translate for Brand's benefit, in interjectional phrases, what this man with the trembling hands and the burning eyes was saying, it was strange to mark the contrast between the two men. "His name Kirski," the younger man was saying, as he eyed, with a cool and critical air, the wild look in the other's face. "A carver in wood, but cannot work now, for his hands tremble, through hunger and fatigue--through drink, I should say--native of a small village in Kiev--had his share of the Communal land--but got permission from the Commune to spend part of the year in Kiev itself--sent back all his taxes duly, and money too, because--oh, this is it?--daughter of village Elder--young, beautiful, of course--left an orphan, with three brothers--and their share of the land too much for them. Ah, this is the story, then, my friend? Married, too--young, beautiful, good--yes, yes, we know all that--" There were tears running down the face of the other man. But these he shook away; and a wilder light than ever came into his eyes. "He goes to Kiev as usual, foolish fellow; now I see what all the row is about. When he returns, three months after, he goes to his house. Empty. The neighbors will not speak. At last one says something about Pavel Michaieloff, the great proprietor, whose house and farm are some versts away--my good fellow, you have got the palsy, or is it drink?--he goes and seeks out the house of Pavel--yes, yes, the story is not new--Pavel is at the open window, smoking--he goes up to the window--there is a woman inside--when she sees him she utters a loud scream, and rushes for protection to the man Michaieloff--then all the fat is in the fire naturally--" The Russian choked and gasped; drops of perspiration stood on his forehead; he looked wildly around. "Water?" said Reitzei. "Poor devil, you need some water to cool down your excitement. You are making as much fuss as if that kind of thing had never happened in the world before." But he rose and got him some water, which the man drained eagerly; then he continued his story with the same fierce and angry vehemence.