Why don't ye shtay like a man by yer childer an' tell me that ?" "My affairs--" began the Russian, with a touch of hauteur in his tone.
"An' what affairs have ye needin' ye more than yer childer?
Tell me that, will ye ?" And truth to tell, Mrs.Fitzpatrick's indignation blazed forth not only on behalf of the children, but on behalf of the unfortunate Paulina as well, whom, in spite of herself, she pitied.
"What sort av a heart have ye, at all, at all ?" "A heart!" cried the Russian, rising from his chair.

"Madam, my heart is for my country.

But you would not understand.
My country calls me." "Yer counthry!" repeated Mrs.Fitzpatrick with scorn.
"An' what counthry is that ?" "Russia," said the man with dignity, "my native land." "Rooshia! An' a bloody country it is," answered Mrs.Fitzpatrick with scorn.
"Yes, Russia," he cried, "my bloody country! You are correct.
Red with the blood of my countrymen, the blood of my kindred this hundred years and more." His voice was low but vibrant with passion.
"You cannot understand.

Why should I tell you ?" At this juncture Timothy sprang to his feet.
"Sit ye down, dear man, sit ye down! Shut yer clapper, Nora! Sure it's mesilf that knows a paythriot whin I sees 'im.
Tear-an-ages! Give me yer hand, me boy.

Sit ye down an' tell us about it.