The colour on his prominent cheek-bones was a little
brighter than before supper, but otherwise it was impossible to say that
he was the worse for the half-pint of spirits he had certainly absorbed
since leaving his work. The man's strong peasant nature was proof against
far greater excesses than his purse could afford.
"What is the news?" inquired Johann Schmidt, still eyeing the bundle
curiously, and doubtless hoping that the Count would soon inform him of
the contents. But the latter saw the look and glanced suspiciously at the
questioner.
"No news, that I know of," he answered. "Except for me," he added, after a
pause, and looking dreamily out of the window at a street lamp that was
burning opposite. "To-morrow, at this time, I shall be off."
"And where are you going?" asked the Cossack, good-humouredly. "Are you
going for long, if I may ask?"
"Yes--yes. I shall never come back to Munich." He had been speaking in
German, but noticing that the other guests in the room were silent, and
thinking that they might listen, he broke off into Russian. "I shall go
home, at last," he said, his face brightening perceptibly as his visions
of wealth again rose before his eyes. "I shall go home and rest myself for
a long time in the country, and then, next winter, perhaps, I will go to
Petersburg."
"Well, well, I wish you a pleasant journey," said Schmidt. "So there is to
be no mistake about the fortune this time?"
"This time?" repeated the Count, as though not understanding.
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