Mishka Tsiganok entered, stamping noisily with his heels, breathing loudly and spitting.

He cast a swift glance and stopped obdurately.
"No room here, gendarme!" he shouted to the tired gendarme who looked at him angrily.

"You make it so that I am comfortable here, otherwise I won't go--hang me here on the lamp-post.

What a carriage they gave me, dogs! Is that a carriage?
It's the devil's belly, not a carriage!" But suddenly he bent down his head, stretched out his neck and thus went forward to the others.

Out of the disheveled frame of hair and beard his black eyes looked wildly and sharply with an almost insane expression.
"Ah, gentlemen!" he drawled out.