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.
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