se and exploded with wrath:--

"Are you mad, Rykov? This is the Imperial service, and service is not
friendship, you idiotic old Rykov! Are you mad? Shall I discharge rebels!
In these warlike times! Ha, my Polish friends, I'll teach you rebellion!
Ha, you rascally Dobrzynski gentlemen; O, I know you--let the rascals
soak!" (And he guffawed, as he looked out of the window.) "Why, that same
Dobrzynski who is sitting with his coat on--hey, take off his coat!--last
year at the masked ball started that squabble with me. Who began it?
He--not I. I was dancing, and he yelled, 'Turn the scoundrel out!' Since I
was just then under investigation for stealing from the regimental
treasury, I was much embarrassed; but what business was it of his? I was
dancing the mazurka, and he shouted from behind, 'Scoundrel!' The gentry
after him cried 'Hurrah!' They insulted me. Well? The beggarly gentleman
has fallen into my claws. I said to him: 'See here, Dobrzynski, the goat
will come to the butcher's waggon!' Well, Dobrzynski, switches are cut for
you, you see!"

Then he bent over and whispered into the Judge's ear:--

"Judge, if you want to have this matter hushed up, a thousand rubles cash
for each head. A thousand rubles, Judge, that's my last word."

The Judge tried to bargain, but the Major would not listen; once more he
stalked about the room and puffed out clouds of smoke, like a squib or a
rocket. The women followed him, imploring and weeping.

"Major," said the Judge, "even if you go to law, what will you gain? There
has been no bloody battle here, and no wounds; for their eating of hens
and geese they will pay fines according to the statute. I shall not make
complaint against the Count; this was only an ordinary squabble between
neighbours."

"Judge," said the Major, "have you read the _Yellow Book_?"161

"What yellow book?" asked the Judge.

"A book," said the Major, "that is better than all your statutes, and in
it every other word is _halter_, _Siberia_, _the knout_; the book of
martial law, now proclaimed throughout all Lithuania: your tribunals are
now on the shelf. According to martial law, for such pranks you will at
the very least be sent to hard labour in Siberia."

"I appeal to the Governor," said the Judge.

"Appeal to the Emperor if you want to," said Plut. "You know that when the
Emperor confirms decrees, he often by his grace doubles the penalty.
Appeal, and perhaps in case of need, my dear Judge, I shall