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.
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