th speaking of, for he had been
nothing but a noncommissioned officer. "Pray don't speak so loudly.
Don't shout out the names like that!" he exclaimed, jumping up from his
seat and closing the door into the tap-room.

It vexed him to think that his pale face had grown scarlet. This
Schmielke was certainly held in high esteem by everybody, and of course
it would not be wise to quarrel with a representative of the Prussian
Government. Still, it was very impertinent of him even to think of Mrs.
Tiralla, of that educated woman, the daughter of a schoolmaster,
extremely impertinent. Really, you couldn't help laughing at it. And he
gave an angry laugh.

"You seem to be enjoying yourselves here," said a voice at that moment;
and, looking round in surprise, the men caught sight of a head covered
with a mass of white hair, that stood up like bristles round an angular
forehead, and a pair of lovely brown eyes. It was the priest who had
opened the door softly and had stuck his head in. "Let me see, who are
you all? Mr. Boehnke, _dobri wieczor_." He nodded somewhat
condescendingly to the schoolmaster who had jumped up from his chair,
and then gave a very friendly nod [Pg 55] to Mr. Schmielke, the
tax-collector, who was leaning back in his tilted chair with two
fingers thrust into the front of his uniform.

"How do?" said the tax-collector.

Zientek, who was a good Catholic, felt very much annoyed at his
heretical friend Schmielke's off-hand behaviour. Zientek was a clerk at
the post office in Gradewitz; but he enjoyed himself better in
Starawie['s], where he was not so well known, and often cycled over
late in the evening. He had jumped up from his chair like the
schoolmaster, although perhaps not quite so quickly, and had shaken
hands with Father Szypulski, the priest.

Father Szypulski now stepped up to the table, for he saw that they were
all good acquaintances, with whom he felt quite at home. He had been so
lonely in his small study, where there was hardly room for so big and
broad a man as he. He couldn't always be reading, and it was impossible
to go to the neighbouring farmers for a game of cards, as the roads
were at present in a frightful condition. He couldn't even get to his
colleague in Gradewitz, which was only a few miles distant by the
highroad. Besides, what would have been the good of it? They couldn't
have gone to the hotel in the market-place, as there were always too
many people about. Oh, there really we