Meanwhile the master of the house never left off wringing his hands, lamenting his misfortunes and those of the firm, welcoming, and, in the same breath, regretting the arrival of the principal, and every now and then assuring the young officer, with choking voice, that he too was a patriot, and that it was only owing to an unaccountable mistake on the part of one of the maids that the cockade had been taken off his hat.

It was plain that the man and his whole family had quite lost their wits.
The merchant had much trouble before he could get him into a corner and hear some business details.

It appeared that the wagons had arrived in town on the very day that the insurrection broke out.

Through the foresight of one of the wagoners, they had been taken into the great court-yard of a remote inn, but as to what had become of them since then the agent knew nothing.
After some further conversation the merchant said, "We shall not claim your hospitality to-night; we shall sleep wherever our wagons are." All the persuasions of the agent were peremptorily rejected.
This worthy but weak man seemed really distressed at the new danger into which his friend was determined to run.
"I shall call you up early," said the merchant, as he left; "I propose setting out to-morrow with my wagons, but first I wish to make a few, as you know, necessary visits to our customers, and to have your company during them." The agent promised to do his best by daylight.
Again our travelers went forth into the night, accompanied by the Pole, who had scornfully listened to the half-whispered conversation.

As they went along the street, the principal, angrily throwing away his cigar, said to Anton, "Our friend will be of little use to us; he is helpless as a child.