"Half the year they smuggle and swill, the other half they starve.

They are freezing a little just now." "Could one not have a caldron full of soup made for them ?" inquired Anton, compassionately, putting his hand into his pocket.
"Why soup ?" replied the other, coldly; "a drink of brandy would please the whole fry better.

Over there they all drink brandy, even the child at the breast; if you are inclined to spend something upon them in that way, I'll give it out, not forgetting a loyal old soldier at the same time." "I will request the landlord to have something warm got ready for them, and you will have the goodness to see that it is all right." And again Anton's hand went into his pocket, and the watchman promised to keep his warlike heart open to compassion.
An hour later the travelers were rolling along in an open britzska.

The merchant drove; Anton sat behind him, and looked eagerly out into the surrounding landscape, where, through darkness and mist, a few detached objects were just beginning to appear.

When they had driven about two hundred yards, they heard a Polish call.